#in other words i thought about crash 1996 for too long

[oscarpiastriwdc]

we'll meet again when both our cars collide

[jodilin65]

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 31, 1996 I finished their cage and am satisfied with the results.

I’m glad Andy’s journal is done. Now all I have to do is copy the rest of it in 125. If there are any pages left over, I’ll use them for email or maybe Kim’s letters.

Just thought I’d write a little as ‘96 nears its end.

Tammy called to wish us a happy new year, but he was asleep. She says Mom and Dad are at an all-night bingo marathon. This sounds like fun and I do like bingo, but I’d rather be home watching the ball go down with no crowds.

Tom’s still sick, as usual, but I don’t know. As I said, at times he seems to go out of his way to prove me wrong and at other times prove me right, as far as stuff I say will or is happening.

So, the question is, is he pretending to be sick cuz I said he’d be sick again and so he can avoid sex? What a hard, long boring act to keep up, though. He doesn’t look or sound too bad, but he even said it wasn’t as bad as his last cold.

Is this gonna become a regular pattern, though? Is he gonna have a cold, get over it, make a duty, screw me, then get sick all over again?

I can handle the lack of sex cuz of how long we’ve been together, but it gets hard to deal with him being sick so much. He’s crabby, we don’t get much done around here and we don’t have as much time together for cards, chats, and stuff like that.

He should really see a doctor. It’s been quite a while since he’s had a check-up.

Our little welfare bums have been quiet, but who knows what tomorrow will bring? It’s to be in the mid-70s, so they may be barbecuing with their pals, screaming as loud as kids do.

All I heard from over there was (no music) a vehicle pull in, a door shut, the kid cried for about 10 seconds, then the recycle bin was wheeled up to their carport. Then about 10 minutes later, I heard them pull out but never heard any music or adult voices. I’m not sure if they’re there now, but it’s been quiet.

Once again, I’m gonna try to get in the habit of remembering to write my entry dates differently. I’d like the year to be included. It’ll make the typed versions much easier to deal with, so I don’t have to scroll up to the beginnings of large documents if I forget the year it covers. Or years.

He slept for about 4 hours, but he’s asleep again now out in the living room.

I think perhaps I’ll go listen to music or do something.

Later…

Well, it’s 1997 where my parents, Tammy and Larry are.

I got till 11:35 here till Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve comes on. I really wish it were the same time in the whole country, though. It’d be easier.

At the stroke of midnight here, we’ll see if I “see” anything. I remember the baby vibe being quite a negative dive as ‘95 came in and nothing much for ‘96.

I guess this will be the last time I write in 1996.

They’re definitely not home next door, cuz the house was dark when I went out to see if I could hear where the firecrackers I heard were coming from.

Watch. With my luck, they’ll use the New Year as an excuse to come blasting in at 4:00 or 5:00 in the morning, just as I’ll be crashing.

Well, until next year!

MONDAY, DECEMBER 30, 1996 Tom’s home now and what does he have? Another cold. God just insists there’s one thing after another going on with us, huh?

Well, the good of it is, is that I’m in the right time frame for getting pregnant and after Tammy and others’ words played through my head constantly, that’s a scary thought. That’s good, though. This is exactly what I hoped would happen.

The question is, though, will I always be able to dodge getting pregnant? I know God gives kids to those who don’t want/fear that, but he never did 10 or so years ago when I was foolish to fool around a few times unprotected. Therefore, I’d say I’m sure I have nothing to worry about. Besides, since I’ve been out here, God’s done a wonderful job looking out for me.

Mid-cycle is such a scary time, though! I always have to hope he’s too tired or make up an excuse myself.

At least he rarely cums and if I pray to God to continue keeping me from getting pregnant, I’m sure he’ll listen. I mean, he has protected me from that for years now, so I’m sure he’ll keep on doing so.

I used the popcorn thing again and this time I put oil in it and it was so much better.

Anyway, Tom’s New Year’s resolution is to clean his car out and keep it that way. He asked me if I thought he was in over his head. Yes, I told him. That’s biting off more than he can chew. And the same goes for how he says he’s gonna cum more often, too.

Mine is to accept and live with fate and not try to change, control, or alter my body/life/being.

Then he says, “Oh, then our dream (the kid) will take care of itself.”

Sorry, but that’s not my dream anymore, any more than the singing is, and I’m sterile cuz that is what’s fated and that is my body.

Then he said he didn’t know for sure, but felt there was a good chance that due to the way I’d get worked up over the kid is why there hasn’t been one yet.

Yeah, right. Then why wasn’t I pregnant at 21 when it was the least of my worries, desires, and workups?

That’d be one hell of a powerful person, to have her beliefs come true. Then, if I could just believe I could quit smoking, for example, I would.

Guess I’ll go on decorating their cage some more.

Later…

Wow. God really is looking out for me. I’m sorry Tom’s not feeling well, but I felt those mid-cycle cramps, along with a temperature of 98.8, which tells me I’m ovulating now. So, I shall surely see my January period with no problem.

Stupid me, though. I really should get on some form of birth control and end these monthly fears and worries, but I just don’t want the hassles and side effects. I’d rather trust God to take care of me and yes, I know he will.

It’s only a 24-hour period I have to worry about, so if we have sex tomorrow evening, it’ll be safe.

Anyway, their cage outline is done, so now all I have to do is color the leaves and flowers.

Later…

Just took a bath and in a little while, I’ll make some popcorn.

I was gonna say that the reason why I have not heard those freeloaders is cuz they haven’t been there, but someone had to be there last night. That’s cuz someone took their recycle bin out front.

Every Monday, they get the recyclable stuff from the front. On Thursdays, they do the back regular garbage. They normally do that on Mondays too, but I guess they’re gonna drop Monday’s regular trash pick-up.

Actually, there’s a light on over there now and I think he may’ve just pulled in. I said I “think,” cuz it was such a reasonable volume that I’m not sure.

Tom and I have our theories as to why the music’s been turned down over the last few months.

Maybe they got sick of the 5-6 times I asked them to turn it down and don’t care to see me again.

Or maybe someone else took my honor and really shook him the hell up to get him to tone it down.

Tom says he could’ve blown his speakers or had an ear infection or maybe the woman and kid ride with him more often and they don’t like it.

A 3-month ear infection? I don’t think that or the woman and the kid would stop him.

If he blew his speakers; he seems the type that’d get them fixed or replaced that day. Well, I hope it isn’t blown speakers that’s simply a case of him not having the dough to fix at this time.

I hope he was threatened, but I’m not worried, cuz if he starts up again, I’ll take care of it permanently.

Later…

I was gonna try calling Paula again but forgot. I’ll give it till after the New Year, then see if I can reach her.

Andy left a message earlier saying the “gerbil” cage sounds nice. He calls Piggy a gerbil deliberately as a joke. I told him he’d have to start calling Bunny a hamster.

He also said Tom would have to build him one too, to protect him from the world. He said he got so emotional at work last night that he even let a customer have it. It was over Quinn, but he says his boss let him get away with it cuz she likes him and he also says he’ll impersonate how he went off the next time he sees me.

He also says that after 3 years of loving the wrong person, he’s now even more determined to get over Quinn. He says Laura found him a new dealer. Well, I hope he uses this new dealer, if he has to smoke pot, so he won’t have any ties or need to be around Quinn.

Like I told Andy, it’s OK to have feelings for Quinn, he can’t help that, but he really should see the guy for the scum he is and move on and not settle if Mr. Right is not a part of his destiny.

What was that I just heard? Was that the little freeloader next door? Guess not. I think it’s sirens off in the distance, actually.

I hear sirens much closer now, but unfortunately they’re not close enough to be arresting next door, so I really don’t hear them for quite a while.

I wouldn’t be too surprised if I heard from them tomorrow night or Wednesday.

I’m looking forward to New Year’s Eve. It’s always been my favorite holiday and I love to watch the ball go down at Times Square. Since being out here, I can laugh at how cold all those poor, crazy souls will be. I don’t know, though, they’ve been having an easy winter with much less cold and snow.

I guess God’s compensating them with the really killer winter they had in ‘93 and ‘95.

Yes, I still have a good feeling about ‘97. I wonder what it’ll be. I also wonder if I’ll be wrong about what I think it’ll be. I don’t think so, cuz there just doesn’t seem room enough for my guess to be that off.

Well, I guess I’ll go and wash the dishes now and work on their cage design.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 29, 1996 Piggy and Bunny’s cage is all done and they love it. Bunny sure has lots more room to run around and now I don’t have to worry about her escaping or it stinking up so fast. It’s so huge and it looks awesome! The only negative to it is that they have more things to chew on, such as the chicken wire, the wood base, and the burrow. This can really bug me at times and it’s not especially good for the stuff to be chewed on too much.

I’m decorating some of the front strips of wood with flowers and vines. What I’ve got done so far looks nice. It really takes that plain wood and fancies it up.

I moved my worktable. The cage is on the wall between the kitchen doorway and the back door. This is where my table had been, but now it’s where their old cage was. Along the inner wall which runs by the kitchen, bathroom, and music room.

Another freeloaderless weekend, thankfully.

That trailer across the street has been here a few times since I mentioned them and their dog with that obnoxious screeching bark. I only heard it once for a few minutes, but if it becomes a regular occurrence, I will go over there to talk to them about it.

Anyway, it’s pretty cool to see Bunny run up and down the length of the cage. At one point, she nearly trampled Piggy. Poor pig.

Tom picked up the microwave popcorn popper. It’s a lot easier to clean than the older ones and it’s cheaper than microwave popcorn in bags, but it’s pretty bland. I’ll have to use oil or something.

I think that’s it for now, so I’ll go finish my John Saul book.

Oh, I finished Andy’s journal.

I also haven’t heard from Paula, so who knows if she got my message, where she is, or what she’s up to. I never get an answer when I try calling. Hopefully, she’s not in any more trouble.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 28, 1996 Right now Tom’s building the frame of the cage. It may not be completely done today as I had expected. I told Tom that having it done today seemed too good to be true. We’ll see what the hell’s going on as we get further into this hefty project. If a guinea pig and a rabbit are this much work, time, and money, think of what a kid would’ve been like. No thanks.

Got a letter from Bob yesterday with the same old shit.

Last night we took some of my money that was from the holidays and my birthday and we went and picked up a few things. I’ll be getting more stuff in a few weeks. Meanwhile, I got 4 pairs of underwear, that cactus mug I said I wanted with all kinds of cactus drawings on it, and a harness and leash for Bunny.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 27, 1996 I’ve got a few minutes to write, but my pizza will be ready anytime now. After I eat and straighten my hair, I’ll write more.

I haven’t heard from Paula, so I guess she’s busy. I was gonna wait till I heard from her, but maybe I’ll give her a call to see if she got my letter.

Later…

Just ate and called Paula. I got her machine, so I left a message saying hi, Merry Christmas, and I hoped she got my letter OK. I told her I’d be up and here all day and night, so she could call if she wanted to.

Last night I was writing when Tom said he was gonna go make a duty, then he hoped I’d be taking a break soon.

At first I said to myself, oh no. I’m not going back to him doing a duty, then us having sex and opening the door again for possible trouble.

You know, problems with sex, another spotting incident, or some other kind of tease from God where I’m a few days late for my rag, get to thinking, well maybe… then in comes my rag. Also, I still didn’t like the fact that I had to be put on hold and have Christmas be our one and only priority. Nor did I like the waves of sex.

Then I told myself, hey, we both need a break. Take all the breaks you can get before she shit hits the fan again. He’ll be sick or having some kind of problem or project going on that’ll put sex on hold, so just enjoy each chance you get and take it when it comes.

So like an asshole, as I was in bed waiting for him, I said to God to please let me be ovulating and let him cum and let us have a child (all things are supposed to be possible with him, right?). So, just like always, I was ignored by God and got absolutely no help from him whatsoever. He didn’t cum. I could tell he wasn’t going to from the get-go, as he wasn’t too hard for the most part. Well, it was still fun for me.

I’ll be mid-cycle this Sunday, but as I’ve learned, there is no right time for me, so it doesn’t matter when we have sex. All I can do is hope he’s available to take care of me when I’m most horny.

I found myself thinking about March again last night. They say God helps those who help themselves, but first of all, I already feel we’ve both done whatever we can to help ourselves. Second of all, should we need medical help, I’m still certain God won’t help us help ourselves that way. He’ll either block us completely (the doctor will say there’s nothing they can do for us) or if there’s a chance in hell that God gives in, we’re in for major trouble. Oh, what he’d do to us and that kid if he ever changed his mind! He’ll compensate the hell out of all of us in some terrible way.

This is why I’m still not sure I’ll be able to seek any medical help. In a sense, he’d be more willing than I’d be. I know the consequences of fucking with fate. Or trying to.

What I’d like to be able to do more than anything, and even more than God giving us a kid, would be to just learn to settle, accept fate, not try to change or mess with it in any way, and just accept the fact that we’ll be childless and be OK with it. God made me the way I am for a reason, be it fair or not, therefore, if I mess with the way I’ve been made, I’m asking for trouble. If God let a doctor impregnate me, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he took it away. If they could impregnate me, God would just make sure I lose it. If he’s never given me my choice of occupation or personal lifestyle yet, why should he start now?

The easiest thing to do would be to accept God hates me, isn’t gonna let me have what I really want, and just move on. Then I could at least still have my life. We’d have our lives, we’d have more time, we’d have more money, I could sleep, etc. Marla said we make our choices in life, and since everything has its ups and downs, I choose to look at my built-in birth control system as a blessing and not as a curse and just live with it and accept it and look at its good sides. It’d be a hell of a lot easier than trying to fight God in a losing battle. He won’t give in. He won’t change his mind.

When I look back to Tom’s cumming on my birthday, I’m trying to see what I did leading up to my birthday to get that wish granted, I can’t see anything I did differently that got that wish granted and not the baby wish granted. If I could’ve seen anything I may’ve done differently, I’d apply that to the baby wish, but I just can’t see what, how or why I got that wish of him cumming granted. The only thing I can think of is that it was a tease from God. And a punishment, too. Every time I heighten my begging God for a kid, he seems to tease me more and get my hopes up a few percent, so I can come crashing down even harder than when I have no hope. It’s as if he’s trying to prove a point to me and send a message saying, “You get on my case about this shit you can’t have and try fighting me, you get punished by my teasing you in some way so you can be even angrier and depressed than you usually are.”

Anyway, I still have a wonderful feeling about ‘97 and I think I’ve had that since ‘94. I had that wonderful feeling about ‘94 since around ‘88 but was wrong about the events that ‘94 would entail. If I had to guess what the good vibe about ‘97 is, it’s that this is the year I’ll really come to accept and live with my sterility and get on with life. I don’t know how I’ll be getting on with life and what I’ll be doing, but this is it, so to speak. Then God can send me a new problem to have to deal with for 2-10 years. Then I’ll have another losing battle to fight, and then have to learn to live with and accept.

Well, in just 5 days, we’ll have 365 days to find out what ‘97 holds for us that’s so wonderful, but if it isn’t the end of this baby phase and my learning to live with it and accept it can never be, with or without a doctor, then I’d say it’s got to do with some wonderful new job for Tom. Or maybe someone like Anne & Harry will visit. Or maybe I’ll have my old body back and be thin and fit again. A new home? No way. Too soon. I don’t see how we could move for another 2-5 years. My guess is that we’ll move just before or just after the turn of the century.

Well, I’m gonna do, say, write, and try everything I can possibly do to “brainwash” myself into believing sterility’s good, I’m OK with it, etc. It’s the easiest, best, and only thing I could do. I’m sick of having it torture my mind, body, soul, and life and I choose to help myself get over it.

Got a newsletter from Gloria. I guess there’s gonna be some remixes coming out of new and older stuff she’s done. Also, a new album.

I’ve got the bulk of Linda’s stuff on CD now but would like to get at least one more that I can think of on CD.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 26, 1996 Maybe Tom’s right about this being the first phase of getting into some kind of schedule. Yesterday, I got up at 9 AM and was tired pretty much throughout the whole day. I’m usually up 16-18 hours before falling asleep, but I fell asleep last night after being up for about 14 hours and got up earlier today. At 8:15.

Except for being tired and hating to be around groups of people, whether they’re assholes or sweethearts, I had a nice time yesterday at Mary and Dave’s and I feel so much at home and comfortable around everyone. We laughed, joked, chatted, ate and just had a fun time.

We made out very well yesterday, better than I thought we would.

I can’t remember who got us each gift and which things are for us, him or me, but some of it’s obvious.

It’s obvious that the microwave hotdog skewer and the toolbox were for Tom. He also got some T-shirts.

Ma gave her traditional $50 bills and we each got $10 certificates for Walmart.

Some of the things we got, were this Nintendo-type game called Lights Out. It’s got really pretty pink and purple lights and you have to figure out which buttons to hit to get all the lights out. We also got a really pretty cactus picture and blue and yellow checkered placemats and napkins. A strawberry candle and a picture of Mom and Dad. I’m so glad we got this picture, cuz we don’t really have any older pictures of just them. I’d say this one couldn’t be more than a couple of years old. It’s in a gold frame and it’s about 5x7.

Ma said she ran out of wrapping paper, but at her house, she’s got a microwave popcorn popper waiting for us. That ought to be different and interesting to try out.

Stuff I got: slipper socks, body wash, a small round puzzle of a butterfly, and a magnet with my name in pretty colors.

Mary and Dave got me a Gloria video. I didn’t even know they knew I liked her, but Tom obviously slipped the word to them. It’s the Evolution tour I saw on HBO. This is the one where she didn’t look too good or sing too good, but it’s still really cool to have.

Ma got me a journal, so that makes a total of 10 for my birthday, Chanukah, and Christmas. 1 from Mom, 2 from Tom, 3 from Andy, and 4 from my parents.

Oh, before I forget yet again, my folks sent Tom another package containing cakes, fruits, and nuts.

We didn’t end up getting Mom puzzle books. She got a calendar. However, the good thing about it is that she told me she finished the ones I’d last given her. Good, cuz I’ve got tons of them for her in a manila envelope that’ll go to her the next time we’re over there.

Tom got candy and cards from work, so we ended up getting a total of 12 Christmas cards this year. That’s more cards than Chanukah and birthday cards I’ve gotten in the last 5 years.

I guess pigeons can swim to a degree. The other day, there was one that jumped off the wall that divides the pool and spa and he flapped around in the water for a few seconds, then hopped back up on the wall. I’d like to find them something easier to bathe in. Something shallow, yet wide enough to give them room.

I talked to Tammy and told her what we got and I called Mom like I do at times, and thanked her again for the journal. Hers will be next.

The freeloaders have still been nice and quiet. Guess they weren’t around yesterday.

Got a message from Marla, wishing us a Merry Christmas. Her husband’s not Jewish, too, so they had a Christmas party somewhere yesterday themselves. She says she’s going to Springfield for a week Friday morning. Oh, God! At this time of year? She’s gonna freeze her ass off.

We had these fluorescent labels in yellow, green, and pink and I relabeled my CDs yesterday. I decided that the journal sheets I cut to fit the covers, looked really tacky, so I took them out and put labels on them. I like that better than any kind of inner jacket, cuz they always slip out and are a pain. I cut out some old Linda pictures from some jackets and put them in my next journal.

It says ‘Fantasies’ on it. How appropriate for a person like me. All I ever do, anyway, is live on dreams and fantasies, but hey, that’s life and what they’re for.

Yes, I still want a kid and would take it if it came, but I still have my times where I have mixed emotions about that and getting tested or helped in any way. I still fear what a kid would do to our lives and our marriage. There’s no way we could do as many things or be as spontaneous or have each other’s time and attention so easily. I couldn’t write like I do or listen to music whenever I wanted to. Sometimes I don’t know if I really want our lives to be completely changed and so different and I don’t know if I want us to have to give up our freedom and our lives. On the other hand, I still suppose it’d be a worthy sacrifice and I still feel a lot of the time like I don’t have a life and like I’ve got too much free time. Well, this is up to God. Always has been, and always will be.

Also, I don’t know if I’m still brave enough to let them do in vitro or whatever would need to be done to fix us (if possible). I still think that unless something’s necessary, you shouldn’t go against God and fight him and alter the way you naturally are. If I’m as sterile as I believe I am, then that’s how God made me and wanted me to be and there’s a reason for it, or else my plumbing would be fine and I’d have been pregnant by now. I don’t see how it just “hasn’t been the right time” yet.

Tom still disagrees, of course, says we’re fine and that I’ll be pregnant by March. In March, though, and realistically speaking, I know I won’t be pregnant, therefore I’ll just get a pap done and decide then whether or not to bring it up to the doctor Tom’s never been right about us having a kid and after all this time, I don’t see how he ever could be. He may be right about most other things (certainly not the timing), but this is something that’ll go on and on forever and I’m sure he’ll always say we’re fine unless I get brave enough to mention it to a doctor and they say something’s wrong. Tom says I’ll be pregnant by March, but then of course, when March comes, he’ll say I’ll be pregnant by June, then by September, then by December. Every few months. Still, I’m glad he says he’ll do whatever we need to do. That really makes me very pleased and very happy to know that he’s willing to get us help, even if he believes we won’t need it and I believe I’ll chicken out of that. I’m not saying it was wrong of Linda and her husband to get the help they needed to have the kids that they wanted, it’s just that for me, I’d be afraid of what God would do to the kid or us for going against him and changing the way he made my body. All this and the other things I fear about it - the physical toll it’d take on us both, but naturally, mainly me.

Evie said she didn’t plan or expect Nickolena or the one she’s carrying now. Yeah, it fucking figures and I believe it. In other words, they were accidents. A good 90% of our lives are just not what we plan, expect, or want it to be. My horoscope had said not to live a life of settlement or else I’d be bored to tears. Gee, like some of us have a choice?!

I’ve also changed my mind about posting some of my drawings on AOL, as we discussed doing so. If God wouldn’t let me be a singer when I wanted to, or have a child, why should he let me be an artist? This can’t be something he’s been trying to “guide” me into. He hasn’t been trying to guide me into anything and if he won’t help me, why should I?

Besides the longer we go without something (like a child), the harder it is to adapt to the idea of it or having it. Hell, we haven’t had sex since the 5th and it’s not gonna be that easy for me to just fall back into that. I also still have a problem with that, cuz I don’t like the idea of knowing that maybe we’ll have sex for a while, maybe we won’t. I want to either have sex or not have sex. Not do it for a week or two, then not do it for a week or two, and back and forth like that. Tom’s just got too many excuses and lately, he’s become quite the hypochondriac himself. Little did I ever think that my husband, of all people, would turn out this way. I can see people like Tammy being this way, but Tom? He’s always got something going on and some of them, like Christmas, are obviously more important than our time together to screw or whatever. I’ll give him credit for this: he said he wanted to take a break, so we played cards. Still, he could’ve easily made enough time for sex during the last week or two once he started feeling better. We could’ve had some quickies. He could’ve offered to go down on me which takes only about 10 minutes. Just 10 minutes of his time was such a big deal. Once again, I still think he’s trying to instill patience in me and uses stuff like Christmas as an excuse to bail out of sex for a while, cuz I still think he’s not totally ready for a kid. He’s never gonna be able to cum more often with the way he starts and stops sex and has so many problems and excuses.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 24, 1996 Last night, either a dream or something woke me up at 9:00, just two hours after crashing. I thought I heard/dreamt one big bang of some sort. So, I got up to pee, went out, and asked Tom if he heard anything and he said no. I asked if next door’s been back and he said that he thinks she’s been there, cuz he sees lights on here and there and that the old black guy (not white guy, like I had thought and I think they don’t like whites), picks her up in the mornings and brings her back at night. Yeah, but they come and go quietly. He had said he was pretty sure there was no vehicle there and that if there was music loud enough to wake me up, he’s sure he’d have heard it and he insisted there was no music. He said maybe it was a car door, real soft, but loud enough to filter into a dream of mine.

Well, I just checked this morning and that jeep is there. I think it was him, and Tom covered for him so he wouldn’t have to deal with my reaction. Tom knows that if I catch them waking me up for sure, I’ll go over there and set that dude straight for once and for all. We’ve already established that 9 PM is one of the times he’s come in and Tom always swore he’d tell me if they woke me up and that he has told me when they’ve been loud.

Well, if it was him, he must’ve just got back last night, cuz I haven’t heard any music for several days. He couldn’t have been around since at least last Thursday, cuz I haven’t heard any music. Not even soft music.

I just wish I knew how truthful Tom’s been about next door, cuz I know he’s on their side, no matter what he says, and I know he’ll do whatever it takes to keep me from going over there and letting them have it. And also, the more I think about it, there have been too many “bang dreams.” I’ve had at least 5 of those since they’ve been here, that I can remember of. There was one, though, I did have and after checking, there was no vehicle there.

Well, if they are up to their old shit, they’re gonna get it, cuz no one fucks with my sleep. Also, why would they quiet down for a few months, then go back to the same old shit? Well, I’m gonna be up this morning and tonight around that same time, and if I hear them, not only am I gonna think Tom lied about last night, but I’ll be visiting them. If they want to play music coming and going, fine. They can do that all they want, but it better not be so loud that it can be heard/felt over that fan and wake me up.

I did manage to get back to sleep, though, and thank God, too, cuz that would’ve really fucked things up around here. I wouldn’t have been able to help much with the Christmas presents, much less go over there tomorrow.

I woke up at 103 pounds. Fuck!

Tom said, “I’ll bet you haven’t seen this number in quite a while,” then he stepped on the scale and it said 200. He said that that was OK, though, cuz it’s the holidays, so it’s to be expected.

I told Tom this morning that I was still bummed that I couldn’t get him anything for Christmas and he didn’t tell me what he wanted. He said that that was not my fault that he couldn’t think of anything and he didn’t get me any material things for Chanukah. True, but I’ll make him up something. I may take a full-size sheet of paper, draw something nice on it, and on it write “Merry Christmas.”

Tom also has a point about why we couldn’t get the presents for our families earlier - we didn’t have the money then.

Yesterday, I got an old Linda CD from the club and another copy of that Madonna one, but that was our fault. We ordered it on the computer too soon after mailing the wrong one back that they sent with a note telling them what I really wanted. So, it’s more than likely going to Andy for his birthday. If not, we’ll sell it at Zia’s.

Tom says yes, he’ll be doing the same job, processing canceled checks. He’s not sure when he’ll be starting or exactly what his hours will be, but it’ll be happening soon. He thinks he’ll have Fridays and Saturdays off and that he’ll be working Sundays from 8 PM-4 AM, then Monday - Thursday from midnight-8 AM. He’ll be getting $9.24 an hour, but it’ll soon go up to $9.68 an hour.

Another reason why I could’ve been wrong about my vibe saying he wouldn’t get the job is cuz I didn’t believe, logically speaking, due to how much he wanted it, that he’d get it. I noticed that a lot of the time I’m wrong on the things I don’t believe will happen, so they creep up on me without warning.

If I believed I could get pregnant, I’d think that now would be the time for God to see to it, due to this schedule that’ll make making appointments easier to get to and the extra money, which always helps with a kid/kids. You can never get enough money when you’ve got a kid. There’s another reason, too, but we don’t know if this is necessarily the case yet.

For about a week, the longest time in quite a while, my schedule was the same. I was getting up at around 1:30 AM. Tom says he thinks it’s time now, where little by little, my body will naturally adapt to a schedule. But getting up at that hour? I asked. He said that once I get into a schedule, I could pick and control the scheduling of when I go to bed and get up. Well, I don’t see it or believe it, but I hope he’s right.

I called Tammy yesterday and told her, sorry I hadn’t been in touch much, but we’ve been busy. I updated her on finding Paula, Tom’s new schedule, and told her about the calendar we’re making for his immediate family. Then, right away, it was all about the sickness/problems going on in that household. Now, once again, I know most of the problems she says that are going on are true and I believe she and her family is cursed, but yet she bitches to me about the same old shit? Oh, please! It’s nothing but the same old shit over and over again with her. I’m sure, though, that that’s perfectly fine with Mom and Dad. That’s their favorite daughter, remember?

Later…

Just heard next door leave without one note of music, so that’s cool.

I finished the nighttime cactus scene in the living room. I drew up a floral vine for Tom that said: Merry Christmas, I Love You. The flowers/leaves shape the letters.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 23, 1996 Before getting into Paula, I’ll update stuff around here.

It was a very peaceful weekend and next door’s been gone. Tom says they’ll probably be gone through Christmas. Good. New Year’s Eve, though, oh God! They are gonna freak. Still, that’s acceptable and understandable, even if I still wish we lived somewhere where you had no idea if your neighbors are freaking out or not.

For Tom’s immediate family, I may or may not have mentioned that he’s doing a family calendar. He videotaped his ma’s photo albums, then ran them through the computer. He had made up a calendar program where he inserted people’s pictures into the calendar on their birthdays. So, on June 28th, for example, there’ll be a picture of Tom. In text, he’s also writing in people’s anniversaries and major holidays. He’s been doing the bulk of it since I’m not the expert he is, but I’ve helped with font suggestions and spelling.

Tom also got toys, plants and stuff like that for Nickolena, Jackie, Pam, Ryan and Jennifer. Ma will still get a variety of puzzle books.

Marla and I still exchange messages and they’re gonna need Tom’s help with their computer but they said no hurry and after the holidays is fine.

I’m surprised Marla hasn’t suggested adoption. Black babies, as Andy had said. Yes, black women have babies like rabbits! Also and once again, I know there are good, hard-working blacks and Hispanics, but so many bring these 3 words to mind: poor, crime and drugs. Although, I think it’s the Hispanics that have first prize for drugs (also not working and having way more kids than blacks and anyone else. They’re up there with the Mormons, as far as big families go). The blacks get the top prize for crime.

Not much else is going on that I can think of or remember. Just that it’s a good thing I’m not too horny now, cuz Tom’s not taking his own advice too well right now at all, where he says we can do/work on things, but to live life in the meantime. Since the 5th, it’s been all about doing for Christmas. Nothing for us in the midst of what we can do for Christmas. Since when does Christmas have to mean no sex, no playing card games, no long chats? I told him that next year, we should really start buying/making stuff for the holidays earlier, instead of waiting till the last few days.

I had two chats with Paula yesterday morning, and the morning before, and I sent her a 4-page letter.

Yes, her life’s still shitty and hard and she’s still the same old ditzy Paula, but it’s still been so great to have finally found her and chatted with her. She says she tried getting a hold of me twice, the day I discovered her number, but the doofus she’s with gave her the wrong number.

She’s living in a family house that’s $600. I didn’t know she didn’t have section 8. Still, she gets about $600 a month and she gets $535 for Justin, who’s 5.

Her boyfriend, Francisco, doesn’t live there. I guess he’s one of her boyfriends. I guess you could say Paula’s a “picky slut,” but she says she may marry someday.

Not surprisingly, her son Robert who’s 8, has been in foster care for about 4 years. What I don’t understand is why she says she regrets having kids, they drive her crazy, they’ve got all these problems she can’t deal with, yet she wants to fight to get Robert back. She says she almost lost Justin and I wouldn’t be surprised if she did. I can’t see her ever getting Robert back, or Justin if she lost him too, but who knows. The courts are so favorable to natural parents. I personally think that having her kids live elsewhere would be best for both her and the kids. She’s just that kind of mom that I get on God’s case about, even though Paula is a dear friend of mine. She just can’t handle it and she’s a lousy mom. Always yelling and threatening. She’s so irresponsible and undependable, too. God loves giving kids to her kind. I still tell her to go for it, follow her heart and fight for him, if that’s what she truly wants.

Her mom died of cancer a year ago, her father lives in Florida and she says she found her real mother in CT. Her real mother’s in a mental home and I guess, has been for years. She says she’s got a lot of real sisters (I don’t know about brothers). She was adopted and she has a twin brother named Paul and I think another adopted sister named Brandy. I guess her real dad is nowhere to be found. Viola C is her real name.

As I figured, she’s been trying to find me too, but had no idea of where to even begin. Trust me, she wouldn’t have the mentality to do so. Anyway, she’s pretty hyper, like me, and we were both psyched to talk to each other, but we were jumping around from subject to subject, getting sidetracked and forgetting things we had to say/ask. There’s lots of catching up to do. I think, though, that between our two chats and my letter, most of the things that have been going on with us have been covered.

She says she did some porn movies, but from what she says, she doesn’t have any of them. I guess the guy who was shooting the movies was mixed up in the mob and was killed. She says the wife’s got them and she doesn’t know how to get a hold of her. Whatever. She says she was only intimate with men and that she was asked to be with the women, but she said no cuz they were all fat. Since when would they use fat women for porn movies? Anyway, I don’t know if or how much money she made off of this. Guess it was just something for her to do.

And she also was in jail for a month. She said she was in jail for fighting. I told her I had thought the Paula that went off on people for no reason was long gone. She says it is, but that some girl kicked her pregnant friend in the stomach and made her lose the baby, so that’s why she went after her. Oh, that explains it. I would beat the snot out of anyone who did that to a friend of mine, too. Anyway, she’s on probation and has to do community service. From what she tells me, the girl isn’t the only one she went after. She said she threw a cop down and that 3 cops ended up having to restrain her. Yeah, I can see this. Oh Paula, please! Are you ever gonna grow up, get mature, and grow a brain?

She says there were several 300-pound mamas that tried raping her in jail. She says she’s got both male and female gay friends, but that the woman’s a butch, so she doesn’t dare bother with her. I’m surprised she hasn’t experimented with women yet, but she said that if there were a fem around, it’d depend. Those fems are still hard to find. I wonder, though, why she never hit on me back in Springfield? Maybe she doesn’t think I’m as pretty as I thought she did or as I thought she was. Maybe it was cuz of Brenda. Who knows? Well, I suppose I wouldn’t have stopped her if she had, but I never could’ve had a relationship with her. She’s too flaked out.

Here’s a classic example of how ditzy she is. I said I wanted to get it straight, for once and for all, where the hell she’s from cuz I’ve heard different things. I thought she was from MA, but she’s from Enfield, CT. She thought I was from CT, but then right after I told her I was from MA, she went on to ask me if I remembered certain teachers back in Enfield High. Dah!

Anyway, Paula is 29. She thought I was 28, not 31. She said she knew there was about a couple of years difference there, but forgot which direction that went.

Paula always had nice white teeth, like Tom. And also, nice dark eyes and nice long brown hair, that’s straighter than mine. I asked her if she still had that pretty long hair and she said, no, she was with her boyfriend in Puerto Rico for 4 months, her hair turned red there, burned off, so she cut it and it’s now to her shoulders.

Whatever. I guess she had chemicals in her hair at the time from perming it.

She says she fucked around with diet pills a while back and is now 110. Wow, I remember her to be slightly chunky (mostly muscle) I thought she’d be in the 120s - 130s like before.

She got her phone a few months ago and she almost got it unlisted. Thank God she didn’t cuz I’d have been really bummed to have finally found she had a phone, just to not be able to get the number.

She also says she moves around a lot for the same reasons I used to. Problems with landlords/neighbors. This place she’s in now is pretty condemned and she says she has no heat/hot water. Oh, I remember that one all too well. Anyway, she says she’s looking to move somewhere nearby and that if my letter gets returned to me to mail it to a friend at a Liberty Street address she gave me in Springfield.

She asked for pictures and I said I’d get some off to her (and Mom and Dad B) as soon as I can. She wants pictures of Arizona, too. I told her, too, to please send pictures of her and her boys. I said I’d not only like current pictures of her, but ones of her with her long hair. I’d also love a letter, too, I told her. Our chats stick in my memory after we hang up the phone, but they are gone. A letter would be a special thing from her to me that’s tangible that I could hang onto.

She also asked about Tom and I told her how wonderful he is. I also told her we live in a house with a private yard/pool/spa.

In my letter to her, I told her about my ear surgery and the trouble I got into in Deerfield, as well as the hell I went through in CT. She knows about the dancing, too.

Well, I think those are the highlights of our chat. If I remember anything else, I’ll include it.

Oh, I not only thanked her for looking out for me, keeping me company, and letting me bitch to her about my life but I asked her why was she so nice to me? Why didn’t she think of bullying me around or screwing me over? She said probably cuz I was the only one who’d take her shit. Meaning, listen to her bitch about life, too. Yeah, I’ve been told I’m very easy to talk to. She’s a lot like me in the way that you can tell/ask her anything and she’s very open-minded and accepting. She’s also pretty understanding too, what with all she’s gone through.

Later…

Just remembered something else she told me that was sweet, yet funny. She says she’s gonna save up money to come see me out here in the summer and that Justin’s dad, already said he’d babysit while she’s gone. Anyway, I let her know that Tom told me he’s sure that somehow, we’ll see each other again someday (and Mom and Dad B), whether it’s out here or there.

Another funny thing is that Francisco the boyfriend said he’s known Paula for 4 years. But then Paula said he was Justin’s dad. Yeah, well, Justin’s 5 and a half, according to Paula. Like I said, this guy’s perfect for her!

Also, Tom not only still thinks we’re fine and that I’ll be pregnant by March, but he explained more about that chart Marla told me about. First of all, I know Tom will be wrong about March, even if I knew I was OK. He’s never been right about the timing of anything. He may end up being right about most things, but not the timing of them.

As far as the chart goes, he says it’s something you do for a while to see when you ovulate and if there are any inconsistencies or not. You don’t just do it, hope your lover’s available when the time looks right, then fuck.

There’s also gonna be something coming up that’ll show if my strong vibes are still as accurate as they always have been. Tom’s got a possible position opening up for him on third shift. He wants it so it’ll leave us more time to do stuff in/out of the house during the day. I hope he gets it if it’s what he wants and if it’ll improve our lives, but I don’t see it. I have a strong vibe he won’t get it, cuz he really wants it. God doesn’t work that way. God would be much more likely to give the job to someone who doesn’t give a shit either way. For his sake, I hope I’m wrong, though, and then that might show that my 80% - 90% accuracy rate with strong vibes would be dwindling. Most of the time, I think that’d be nice if it did dwindle.

Later…

Yay! He did get the job. He’s not sure when he’ll start or what his hours will be, but we’re psyched for 3 reasons. 1. More money. 2. More time in the days to do stuff. 3. I was just wrong with a very strong vibe! Finally. If only I could be wrong with the kid, but I still just don’t sense, see or believe it. I haven’t been wrong yet. And remember, just cuz I was wrong a few times; I was still right on many, many things I felt strongly about, like it or not.

Tom would’ve loved the answer I gave Paula when she asked if we had any kids. I normally would’ve said, “No. And we’ll never be able to have any,” but instead I told her, “I don’t think I’ll be able to, but we’re working on it.”

Speaking of Tom and his timing, he says we’ll have Piggy’s and Bunny’s new cage built on Saturday. Right! This I’ve got to see, but I hope he’s right.

My losing weight looked promising and I even woke up at 100 pounds 2 days in a row. However, I’m right back up to 104. My metabolism started to speed up but slowed back down again. For a while, I was starting to be able to eat and stay the same weight. Today, though, I weighed 102, then ate a baked potato and was at 104. The only way I’m gonna lose the weight and speed up my metabolism is to only have just liquids for 2-3 days; no food. For now, though, I’m just gonna have to let it ride. Most of the times I’ve lost weight, it’s been without even trying, anyway. Maybe if I just forget about it for a while, it’ll come off on its own. Meanwhile, the pressure I put on myself when I go to try to lose weight, usually never seems to work. I’ve lost weight more often by not trying than by trying.

Andy’s on the phone with me now, going on and on about problems with Quinn. I thought he was starting to get over him and I thought he was spending more time in the bars trying to meet other people.

Now he’s reading me a letter from his gay friend Sandy from Hyannis, MA. She sent him a 10-minute phone card. How nice.

About the wackiest, ditsiest thing Paula asked me was this: Her boyfriend is Puerto Rican and she asked if Tom was white. I said yes, then she goes, “Is he Irish like you?”

I said neither of us was Irish, then she goes, “Oh, you’re Korean, right?”

“No,” I said, “I’m Jewish.”

I told Tom and Andy this and I burst out laughing when she said this. And the cool thing about it is that you can laugh at Paula all you want and she won’t take it personally, cuz she’s too dense to get it.

This new job schedule of Tom’s will prove how serious he is about “living life,” as he seems so obsessed with saying, and if he’s that serious about us having more sex. He’s proven to me that he can cum and that he does want a kid (he still has to show me he can cum more often), but he still seems to have this thing with stopping and starting sex. I mean, we get on a roll with it, then something comes up where he just can’t seem to make the time for sex.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 21, 1996 I have some really exciting news. First of all, I called my other mom and dad to say hi (Anne B). I tried the house in W. Springfield first and got no answer, so I called LaRagione’s and got her there. She has quite a cold but told me she got half a letter started to me and mentioned something about sending pictures which would be wonderful. I’d love to have pictures. Then Tom can see what they look like. Some of her relatives who help out there and work there, too, remember me, cuz she said Pauline wanted to know if I still played the guitar. I believe Pauline is Ma’s cousin.

She asked if I was coming in ever and I told her I had no plans to, but if I ever did, could I call about us getting together? She said she’d expect me to. Cool. And Tom said, of course, we can meet with them. She says their friends in Tucson are on their case about coming out to visit them, so I told her I hope they succeed, so we can see them too.

Now, here’s my awesome news! Well, I got to wondering about how Jessie’s doing these days and Steve and Jai and I still wonder who the hell Robin really was at times. Remember Shelly? I know I mentioned her before. She was at Dotty H’s with me in Springfield when we were both 16. She really looked out for me and protected me from Dotty and Valerie. I never could find her to thank her for this, but I still wonder whatever came of her.

I check once or twice a year and there’s never a listing for Paula, but when I last checked, I was like, holy shit! There was a listing in W. Springfield! So, I called the number, and her youngest of two sons, Justin, answered (I guess Robert would now be around 7 and Paula’s probably around 29).

Then a guy took over the phone who sounded Puerto Rican, but also ditzy and perfect for Paula. She wasn’t home, he said, and he also said he’s known her for 4 years. I don’t know if he lives there, but I think he does. I don’t know if he’s the father of Justin, or what, or how serious they are. Paula doesn’t usually get serious and she doesn’t play around either. At the same time, though, I’m sure she’d love a guy around to use for help with the kids, money, and sex, and who knows if she’s ever experimented with women. According to the guy, she was out getting toys for the kids and isn’t working still.

I told the guy to tell her she can call collect if she wants and he said she usually calls in when she’s out and that he’ll pass the message along. So, so far, we’ve been playing phone tag and haven’t managed to talk yet. When I called there to check and see if she was in yet, he said she had called him and she then turned right around to try to call me. Cool! She didn’t even wait till she got back home. The thing about it was that I was listening to music when she tried to call and you can’t leave messages on machines when you make a collect call. I’m sure she tried calling from a payphone. I told the guy to tell her that I’m married, so if she called directly, got the machine, which has Tom’s voice on it, to know she didn’t dial wrong (they now have voicemail there, too).

So, the last time I talked to the guy, I was exhausted. I thanked him for being so patient with me and being such a good messenger, but that I’d have to try again tomorrow (today). If Tom got any calls from her last night, I don’t know. I’ll have to wait till he gets up to find that out.

I’m still so psyched that I finally found her. I never did get to say goodbye and she was such a nice person. She really looked out for me, kept me company and she never hurt me in any way. She never asked to constantly borrow things, either, like I initially thought she would. All she wanted, like I did, was someone to talk to.

Well, since she has a phone, I guess she’s doing better these days and I hope she is and that her relationship is a happy one. It’s been 6 years. We’ve got lots of catching up to do and we’ll see if she’s the same old flaky, spacey Paula or if she’s grown or changed in any way.

I’m sure Paula was shocked to hear that I was trying to get a hold of her. I’m sure that “Jodi” and “the Harley Hotel” and “Locust Street” rings a bell in her head, but “Arizona” and “husband” are gonna shock her. She may think, is this a joke?

Got a message from Marla too, but first, two nights in a row I got instant messages from two different people. One said, “Hi,” and the other said, “Good Evening.” I never bothered to respond, though, cuz that just isn’t my thing anymore and I just figured that they were just your late-night perverts.

Marla didn’t have much more to say. Just that she agrees with us that last August was probably a miscarriage (I don’t think that any egg of mine that could get fertilized will ever hook to the womb and stay that way. I think my body will always reject any fertilized egg).

She also said she didn’t mean to scare me with the story of the baby kicking through its mom’s womb and that she isn’t trying to be a know-it-all. I told her I knew this but hey, she is smart in many ways.

She says that spotting during pregnancy is usually a one-time thing and that it usually occurs for a day or two.

Then she mentioned a Mary L, and a Rosalie and Lenny who were somehow associated with our parents and Charlotte and Jim.

Andy just called and I asked him who the hell Mary L is and he says that’s his friend Mary back in MA. Oh. I’d always only known her as just Mary. I didn’t know her last name.

Also, Andy says that Rosalie and Lenny were a couple that was friends with our parents, Char and Jim, and others till Ma decided to ban them from their little clique and everyone, still unable to break free of Ma’s power and influence, went along with it.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 20, 1996 This morning was both nice yet a little tense with Tom. Still, I miss spending time with him so much and I miss sex. Well, I do and I don’t. I just wish he’d get to feeling better and stay that way! It seemed like there’d have been plenty of time for sex this morning, but he said that he wasn’t sure how his tooth would end up feeling (now that his cold is over, his tooth is bugging him again, but we’ll get it taken care of if we need to) and by the time he realized his tooth was fine, we didn’t have enough time for fun. Yes, we did. We could’ve had a quickie, or he could’ve gone down on me.

So, I asked him why I was feeling horny at this time. I’m not usually horny after my period, but he said that it was probably cuz we hadn’t spent too much time together. Then suddenly, his tooth started hurting him and at first, I thought he was trying to put a guilt trip on me for mentioning the fact that if we didn’t have sex, we avoid possible problems it can and has brought, but that if we don’t, we go horny. I’m pretty sure now, though, that his tooth was really hurting him.

Then I got a little annoyed when once again he said, “I know there’s no problem” (with my plumbing).

The reason why I’d gotten annoyed was cuz he always tells me after I say, “I know I’m sterile,” not to assume I know something, either way, cuz no one’s supposed to know what the future holds. Then he told me I could say whatever I wanted and that when he said what he said, it went without saying, in his mind, that there’s a slim, remote possibility there is a problem. So I guess what he’s saying, is that we can believe whatever we believe, but to know that there’s always a chance we could be wrong.

I got to thinking about that brainwashing thing. If I can brainwash myself into thinking God hates me (I still think this is true for the most part anyway), then why couldn’t I brainwash myself into believing I didn’t want a kid? I asked him if he thought Andy could brainwash himself into believing he didn’t want a boyfriend, since he doesn’t think he could get that any more than I think I could get a kid, and he said no. I wonder why? What’s the difference?

Anyway, it’s been absolutely freezing out at night these last couple of nights, and the days have been chilly.

After Tom left for work, saying he was looking forward to the weekend which I agree with, a pipe was leaking out back where one of the faucets is. It was spraying a mist and it was so cold and there were even icicles forming off of the hose and the wet grass below it was all icy. Yuck! Totally like being in Massachusetts. So, I tried to turn it off, but when I couldn’t, I called Tom and he told me which valve to turn and in which direction and told me he’d call back. I got it off with a pair of pliers, then he called back saying I was a wonderful wife for getting it off so he didn’t have to come home and do it.

I’m still working on losing that extra weight, but I haven’t been totally able to “liquidate” myself. I’m at 102 now, but I’d like to get it down to the upper 90s. Even if I could just drop 3-5 pounds, that’d really make a difference at my height and with how I looked, felt, and how my clothes fit.

A couple more comments about Marla’s letter - we heard that making love more often, increases the amount of live sperm, not decreases it, but oh well. And that graph thing seems pretty complicated, but of course, I can’t count very well. Also, if it said I was likely to be ovulating, that doesn’t do me any good if he’s either at work, asleep, busy, sick, tired, or unable to cum.

I was also shocked at how she said 70% of pregnant women experience some kind of bleeding episode during early pregnancy. 70%?! That’s an awfully high figure and if it were that common, then why isn’t it common knowledge? I mean, that’s like saying I could be pregnant, since I had a light period which was mostly spots, both brown and red and I think I saw some tissue, too. I know better, though. I don’t sense any major change, so trust me, my womb is still empty.

I was also surprised she said she blocked out stuff that happened to her as an adult. I thought that the only ones who could really block anything out were those no older than about 10. I wish to hell I could’ve done that throughout most of my life. I envy her. My problem has been remembering. I’m able to remember every single rotten thing that’s ever happened to me and mostly in full detail, too. I wish I could’ve taken and blocked out shit that happened to me as it happened. A lot of the time, especially when the past seems to play on my mind and creep up on me, I wish that even now, I could block out all the bad things I’ve gone through, one by one. That’d have to be the bulk of my life, though.

I also told Marla that she can bash my mom in any way shape or form. Even if I didn’t agree with her (yet I do), she has a right to her feelings and she can speak her mind. It’s fine with me.

My dad’s pretty persuasive too, but not like my mom. Even my dad can’t stand up to my mom and I think this is a big reason why he didn’t stick up for me, Larry and Tammy, besides his own weakness. See, I just know that Tom, being as strong as he is and as loving and protective of me as he is, won’t even be able to stand up to them. If she started to cut me down, he may say in his mind, say something in defense of your wife! But will never be able to do so. My mother could convince most of the world that she was God if she wanted to, but thankfully she and dad aren’t cops cuz if one of them did something cops aren’t supposed to do, the other would never blow the whistle. Hell no! They’d stand by each other and back each other up like the staff in places like Valleyhead and Brattleboro do. That’s what Marla meant when she said Dad was in the same boat, different level. He too, was under the domination of Dureen.

Anyway, speaking of my weak, intolerable parents, they sent Tom candy for Christmas. 3 different kinds of chocolates.

And, speaking of Tom’s mom, remember how I said she showed me a funny letter she got from her cousins? They live in either Virginia or Tennessee, somewhere around there, but there were 16 “Ha’s” throughout the whole letter and I thought it was pretty weird/funny. Anyway, she just got another letter from them and there were no HAs, but it was a pretty bragging, conceited letter. They started off by saying they hoped all was well with “you and yours.” What a hell of a thing to say to someone whose husband just died 6 months ago.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 19, 1996 I went online, saw that Marla was online, and sent her an instant message. Then I sent her an email and am now waiting for her to reply.

I think I’ll go cruise the Internet while I await her reply.

Later…

Still waiting for Marla’s reply. What’s taking her so long? She obviously types fast too, and is an excellent speller. Very literate, just like Andy told me she was.

When I’m not waiting for her or something else, I’ll write more about stuff we’ve talked about.

I downloaded more games, but don’t know if I can remember how to unpack and decompress them.

Later…

Marla better hurry up and get her message to me, but I’ll have to reply to her some other time. A message just popped up saying that the system’s going down in 30 minutes and won’t be back up till 7 AM ET. That’s 5 AM here.

Right now I’m downloading those files which should take about 8 more minutes.

Later…

Got Marla’s reply, but I let her know I’d write back some other time since the system was to go down.

She and I have discussed all kinds of things (mainly about pregnancy). I didn’t tell her about our past sexual lives, of course, but I told her about the DES, my beliefs about God, and my life in general. I made it clear to her that I do have my blessings and how wonderful Tom is. I also told her how positive Tom is and that he agrees with her. That God isn’t punishing me or us and that we’ll succeed whenever.

She gave me Linda’s number, but I don’t think I’ll ever need to call her.

I can’t remember everything we discussed in the last couple of letters. She just told me to get tested and I told her that if we haven’t had any luck by March when I’m due for a pap, that’s when I’ll casually mention it, get the ball rolling and that we both agreed to do whatever it takes if we can’t manage on our own.

I’m still shocked that Marla had such an easy time with childbirth and said it was easier than having her 4 impacted wisdom teeth pulled, but like Tom said, everyone’s different. I had thought that nothing was more painful than having a kid. I may be a toughie in many ways, who’s not as sensitive as she used to be, but I still can’t imagine a drugless, easy birth like Marla had, with only a few stitches down there. I’m not that tough and I’m not as big as she is. She did say, though, that with her second boy (she has two) the labor was sharper, so they gave her something that’s supposed to take the edge off the pain and it didn’t help much. Yeah, I heard that the drugs really don’t help much and that all they do is prolong the process and up the risks to the mother and the child. I always swore that if I were pregnant, I wouldn’t bother with those birthing classes. If childbirth is supposed to be natural, I don’t see why I should have to be “taught” how to have a kid if I could have it vaginally. I’d still want to find out all my options and see what the doctor recommended but have the drugs available to me if and when needed. Still, I already know how to take some good, deep breaths, so like Tammy said, it’s kind of obvious and I don’t see why I’d need classes.

Shockingly, Marla said she thought it’d be so painful and when she saw an instructional video, the lady looked like she was gonna die of pain and yet they said the woman was having a fairly easy labor.

Marla also told me that before Linda had in vitro, she attempted two failed surrogates for Linda.

Anyway, the more I think about it, the more I realize that Tom really truly is right on just about everything he’s ever said would happen. All he was really wrong about was the timing of these things, but so far, even though we have gotten me pregnant, we did get him on top, we did get him off, etc., just like he said would be the case. As I told him, the more I remind myself of this, the more I hope it’ll help me to deal with our situation and to move on. Talking with Tom, Andy, and Marla have really helped.

I told Marla that I wasn’t ashamed of my past experiences with women, that I never believed God hated gays, and that I believed that those who say he does just want to cut down gays and try to scare them, so she responded to that in her letter I’ll copy in here.

Tom says that I may have always believed God had it in for me, but that lately, I’ve come to be obsessed with the idea of him hating me and that I brainwashed myself into believing he hates me. Yeah, I think he’s right, but I still can’t help but believe this. I wish I didn’t, though. I wish I just believed that I do have more control over my own body and life than I’ve had in the past and that it just hasn’t been the right time yet. They say there’s a time to die and a time to be born. I’m sure I’d believe in God for the better much more if I do get pregnant. If not, I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait and see.

The good thing about it is that between what Tom, Andy, and Marla have had to say about it all and the procedures available, and that there are places guaranteeing a visible pregnancy and your money back, has helped to boost my hope up a little. I don’t know how the hell we could afford any procedures, but I just hope we’ll never need it and that Tom will be right yet again about not needing anything.

Meanwhile, all I can do is wait, try to hope things work out, and take Tom’s advice about God and living life. It may not be easy, but I guess that the more often I can live out his advice, that that’ll be better than nothing, even though I agree with Tom and myself that what we think, do or say, doesn’t dictate the future. It may just make it easier to deal with and maybe speed things up, but who knows for sure?

I also agree with Tom, Andy and Marla, that the past can’t be changed, even if it plays on our minds periodically. And that also, I don’t have to be like my mother. God, I hope not! I don’t see how I could live with myself if I did a fraction of the things she’s done and we’re already quite different.

I really am lucky, like Marla said, that Tom doesn’t judge me by my past and I’ve told Tom this.

Another cool thing about Marla is that she doesn’t just know what Andy’s told her since he and I met up in ‘88. She knows how my mom was/is. She saw how she was with us.

I agree with her about there usually being a reason for the way people are and she asked me about my mom. Well, that’s easy. Her parents were just like mine. Her mom was mean, negative and domineering and her dad sat back and acted like nothing happened while using his heart as an excuse to not get upset. Yes, my dad had/has a bad heart and it’s not good for him to get all emotional, but if I had been him, I would’ve set that Dureen straight on how she treated our kids. I don’t mean violently, either.

I also agree with Marla that all parents make mistakes, but trying your best and trying not to repeat mistakes and apologizing for your mistakes and letting your kids know you love them no matter what, is the best.

Lastly, she gave me all kinds of news, advice and stuff like that on pregnancy. I’ll show Tom her letter and ask him what he thinks. He says we can let it happen on its own (by March) and I trust his judgment with his track record of being right (whether it be on time or not), so I’ll ask him if he thinks we should take her temperature advice or wait on it, but keep it in mind as something that may help in the future if we have no luck on our own.

We definitely need and want to have more sex and yes, I fully believe Tom when he says he can get to the point where he gets off every time we have sex. I believe this after how right he proved to be in saying we could get him on top, off in the first place, etc. I just think it may take many months, but like he said to remind myself, I cannot know this for sure. I may be wrong when I say I think it’ll take a long time for him to do. Or maybe I’ll be right. Don’t know. Time will tell.

We do agree with Marla - we choose to help ourselves get me pregnant. I ain’t giving up no more. I shall fight tooth and nail for what I, he or we want, whether or not it comes quick and easy, or over time with lots of hard work. Tom and Marla are right - we deserve happiness, we deserve our dreams, and we don’t have to be childless by fate.

That story Marla told me about that woman Linda knows sounds horribly scary and painful where the baby kicked through the womb.

Later…

Right now I feel a little dizzy. Or would lightheaded be the proper word?

I was surprised to spot some mistakes in Marla’s letter to me. No hyphen in between the words ‘self’ and ‘esteem’ and she put an apostrophe in the wrong kind of ‘its’. Still, she is an excellent typist/writer. Especially when compared to people like Fran, Bob, Alex and Tammy.

Tom took care of unpacking a few new games I zapped over.

He says he still feels like he was just getting over his cold, only to get hit with a new one. I worry about him. I hope he’ll be OK. I’d literally die if anything ever happened to him.

He’s been grouchy a bit here and there, but I understand. I only wish I didn’t talk so much. I should really work on not overwhelming him with so much show and tell when he first wakes up. He’s overwhelmed enough what with his cold and Christmas coming up. I should understand, too, cuz I really like to be left alone myself when I first get up. I need more time than he does. I need an hour or two to just be left alone.

I also should try harder to take his advice when he says that it’s not that I have to really change myself or hold things in, but lessen the kid talk. He says we can discuss it, but we have to live life and not put all our energies into making a kid. This doesn’t mean he won’t or can’t do whatever we may need to after the holidays are out of the way. We really don’t want to make any kind of plans till after the New Year.

He has a point about living life, but a lot of the time, I feel like I don’t have enough of a life to live and too much time on my hands. Well, when I feel this way, I try to do the things I enjoy, besides stuff that needs to be done around the house.

I agree with him as far as taking any old out-of-the-house job at this time. I don’t know about the future, but right now it would eat our money initially and rob us of a lot of our time together. It’d make it harder for any needed appointments, too. It would make my free time more special, though. Perhaps too special and I don’t think a job is worth it. A kid, yes. That’d be worth any free time being special. Besides, we’re not like Tammy and Bill or other couples, necessarily. If one of us really needed free time, I’m sure the other could help with that. If he needed free time on the computer, I’m sure I could entertain the kid in another room. Neither of us would be able to wake up in peace, though. Maybe we could take turns with that.

Yesterday, it was my left nipple’s turn to have that weird burning feeling. Also, my rag, which was a typical 3-day rag (although very light), is over.

I told Tom we should wait till after the holidays too, to screw again, but he said that wasn’t what he wanted to do. OK, I told him. I’m not only used to not doing/having what I want, but I truly love him so very much that I want to do whatever I can do to make him happy and what he wants, whether I like it or not.

Marla went through a lot of shit in her life too, and like me, wishes she had Evan a long time ago like I wish I had Tom a long time ago. She wishes Andy had Mr. Right, too.

Is she serious, though? Andy had told me the boys really put a strain on their marriage and that Evan would get jealous of the attention she gave the kids (what else is new?).

Marla has a point too, when she mentions God having a hand in our sexual orientations. I agree with that.

I heard, also, that Ma treated me better than Larry and Tammy due to her guilt over my ear when I was really little. Then, I personally think she treated me worse. She didn’t send Larry or Tammy away or have them doped up. Better to have stayed home with the negative, insensitive bitch than to have been put away in funny farms, schools, and foster homes, but I’m glad I met Anna and Harry.

Tom and I have been playing the doggie mug game. He picks a different one out every day for hot chocolate. He’s picked 3 out of the 10 so far, so he’s got 7 more to go.

Every day I’ve been emptying our little pail into the big blue dumpster they gave us which’s out in the corner of the patio. That’s my job. Late tonight, I’ll reply to Marla’s letter.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 18, 1996 I was not only gonna say how each period gets lighter but how I also hadn’t had the grand finale but I just did. I usually spot the first day, have a healthier flow the next day, then nothing for a while on day 3, then a few final spots. I had a weird experience last Saturday or Sunday that I don’t remember ever having before. I suddenly felt a strong and steady pain in a small area (seemingly my uterus), that felt like immense cramps. Between Tom and two Ibuprofen, it went away after about 20 minutes.

Another thing Marla pointed out is that you get breathers between contractions, unlike period cramps. True, but I still can’t imagine drugless, natural childbirth being half as easy for me as she says it was for her.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 17, 1996 Well, they finally delivered our recycling pail. We agreed, though, we’re not gonna make a big deal of it. Obviously, glass jars, soda cans, and shit like that are recyclable, but if we’re not sure, we’ll just throw them in the regular pail.

On Sunday, next door threw the quietest party ever. There was no music, ball playing or loud yelling. I would’ve easily slept through it. I hope all their parties are like this where they keep themselves inside their place and not take their party out directly by our windows. These are definitely summer people, so I’m sure that from around May to Labor Day, there’ll be some major outbursts.

Bunny finally had to go into the bomb tank. She was well on her way out of Piggy’s cage when I finally realized there was no keeping her in there. So, after I put her in Piggy’s old aquarium, I put the screen over it, taped two sides of it to the glass, then tucked the other two sides under the cage. I also put heavy boxes on top. Something I couldn’t do with the other cage.

I can’t wait till their new cage is built!

Once again, this period is so light and while my boobs aren’t sore anymore, I never lost my water weight gain. I still weigh the same before, during, and after my rag. I gotta do something about this. Otherwise, in a few months, I’ll steadily weigh 108, then a few months later I’ll weigh 110 for a while and this will go on till I’m 130-150 pounds all over again.

There is a part of me that’s doing a lot better, though. My hair. Yes, I still have some split ends, but not as many, and I really believe this will prevent split ends before they start. Anyway, all of it, from roots to ends, is so much softer. It looks and feels much healthier. Even when I don’t straighten it, it no longer feels like straw and it’s not so frizzy anymore, either.

Later…

I’m still not as happy as I’d like to be now. I still have that doomed, hopeless feeling and it’s got me both sad and angry. Marla’s been a good listener through AOL. She told me about Linda, which I already knew, of course, and told me to get tested and do whatever it takes. I told her that that’s what we intend to do, but I also told her, that even though Tom disagrees, what my belief is about God, curses, punishments and how you can’t fight fate and that I fully believe it’s not meant to be.

What she had to say about childbirth shocked the shit out of me. She thought it was gonna be so painful, but she says she had no drugs and that it was easy. She said she only ripped 2-3 stitches down there but wasn’t sore down there at all. Of course not as she's huge? Me? I’m so small that if I could have a kid regularly, there’d be no way I wouldn’t be in utter pain and not rip to pieces, cuz I’m small and sensitive. Maybe not as sensitive as I used to be, and yes, I may be a toughie to a big degree, but not like that. Back when there were no drugs, which I hear doesn’t help much, how could people push a kid out through the agony of a torn pussy?

She said that easy births run in her family, but that Linda had a long, painful ordeal. Well, of course she did. She fought God and had in vitro. She fought God and won, though, and got him to break down and give in. He wouldn’t even do that for me. If he did, though, I’m sure he’d make it the worst possible labor anyone could have, in exchange for giving in, and I probably wouldn’t be able to shit or pee for weeks. Even worse, he’d probably make sure I really did have to have a C-section, so I could still feel like I didn’t experience the process naturally and do my job right, so to speak. I still wish he’d give in for me, too, whether I had an excruciating vaginal birth or a C-section. He won’t even go so far as to let me get pregnant.

Like I said, 90% of my life is what God says it is. I just have no say at all when it comes to making major decisions about my life or body. It’s all up to him.

I’m on a liquid diet till Saturday, but who knows if he’ll let me have my way with that? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was pregnant, cuz my body’s just like it was before my rag (even my emotions are). Except for the sore boobs and pre-cramps being gone, I just never lose my post-period water weight gain anymore. I still keep bouncing between 104-106.

So this is what Tom’s cum has done for me - not made me pregnant, but has made my period light, made me constantly watery and I look like shit. I look like I weigh 120. Well, if I don’t do anything about it (that is, with God’s permission), it’ll get up there eventually. As long as I can never have a child, there’s no reason why I should be fat. I know it’s got something to do with Tom’s cum, but I certainly don’t want him to go back to not cumming, either, even if we didn’t want a kid, so I can feel inadequate in bed again. He’s been right about the cumming issue, but I just hope it doesn’t take another two years to step up in bed to where he’s cumming more than once or twice a month.

My body’s acting like it did in my late teens - early 20s. I just look at food and gain a pound or two. I’ve got to reverse my thyroid and speed up my metabolism, so I can go back to staying at the same weight, no matter what I eat and how much I eat. If I can just get down to 98 pounds, I should look and feel much better and my clothes should fit me better. Meanwhile, I suppose I should try to tighten things up since except for the arms, that doesn’t seem to come as naturally anymore.

I’m just so fucking pissed, it isn’t funny. I’m sick of having no control. Will God ever let me do something I really, really want to do soooo very, very bad?! I just wish he’d leave me the fuck alone and let me live my own life the way I want it to be. Everything’s got to be his way and I’m just so sick of it! I just want to live for Jodi for once and do what Jodi picks out as far as her destiny or occupation goes. I’m tired of knowing what I want, wanting it really bad, doing whatever I can do to get it, and having him say no and throw it up in my face. If I’m such a piece of shit to God and if he hates me so much, why does he bother with me? I’m tired of having to be his little piece of clay that only he can mold into whatever he wants. I’m tired of being his slave.

I just wish to hell I knew Tom was gonna be as right about this as he was about the cumming. If he was right, when would that be, though? How many years from now? Would I be around 35? Would I be around 40? Better later than never, but I’m sick of waiting. Why can’t anything ever come easy and quicker to me? Why is it that I never get 90% of what I want and the things that I do get that I want take years? I’ve wanted this long enough. We shouldn’t have to wait. We don’t deserve to wait. Oh, I know, we’re not 16, we didn’t kill anyone, rob a bank, or sell crack, but can God ever do anything fair? Is he that miserable himself, that he has to make most people miserable, too? If he was such a good loving God like people say he is, then why doesn’t he prove it? Why doesn’t he be fairer? Why doesn’t he listen to me when I’ve talked to him? Why does he ignore most of us like he doesn’t give a shit or care and like our problems/dreams mean nothing to him?

I just wish I could see into the future and see if Tom’s right about us having no problem at all getting me pregnant, but I’m still pretty sure that if I could see into the future, I wouldn’t like what I was seeing at all. If only I could see what he sees, though. If only I could see a miracle and eat my words. That’d make all this waiting a lot easier to deal with.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 16, 1996 I sure do have a lot to write about and most of it isn’t very good. Let me get the other things out of the way before I get into the same old shit.

We’re making a family calendar for Christmas. Tom went over to Ma’s to videotape her photo albums. We’re getting ma puzzles, but anyway, we’re gonna have family pictures by each month and a picture of those whose birthdays or anniversaries are on certain dates.

I got restocked on my markers and did a couple of really neat envelopes for Larry. On the front of one of them, I did a line of crayons all lined up and wrote the names of their colors on them, just like they are written on crayons. I also did one of a nighttime desert scene on the back. That one, Tom really loved. He liked the crayons a lot but thought the desert scene was excellent.

I started this desert scene on the living room wall across the back of the couch.

Tom’s cold is just starting to taper off, but Larry sure had quite a cold when I called him last night.

Larry says they warmed up again to 40°, but that it’s to get cold again. I gave him my laugh, anyway.

We got a few Christmas cards from Tom’s family and I got a card from Kim today, too.

I just did up letters to Larry and Kim.

The John Saul fan club thing I sent away for was returned to me, cuz that address was closed out.

I renewed our library books by phone.

I think that’s the trivial stuff that’s been going on.

Anyway, the reason why I haven’t been too happy, naturally, is cuz of that faithful red friend I knew I’d get. It started last night. Tom said this could be good, cuz we screwed when I was 14 days after my period, so all this means is that we didn’t hit it right and I wasn’t on a 28-day cycle. I know what this means. That God still hates me and will never love me enough to bless us with a child.

Anyway, he had just gone to bed last night before 8:00 and I decided to watch a movie. So, I sat down to do so and of course, the first set of commercials had to be all about pregnancy tests. Then I felt wet down there, went to check, and saw that it was starting. So this was an instant end to my good mood. Then the next set of commercials was about the power of prayer. The only power I have from prayer is the power for them to be unheard and unanswered. I thought it just wouldn’t be fair if I’d gotten a period, but even Andy agrees that God controls our bodies and that life’s not fair. It’s like it’s deliberately designed to be unfair.

The thing about it is that for about two days prior to my period, even I had a slightly positive vibe picking up. The scale said 106 steadily and my boobs were so sore and I was so watery that even I began to wonder. Stupid me, though. The thought of having a child brought tears of joy to my eyes as I realized how complete I’d feel to have such a great husband and a child. I kept telling myself I was a silly little dreamer and to get real and then reality came alright Even my horoscope said to hang onto reality and don’t do too much wishful thinking. Tom would agree with the part telling me to reevaluate and change my belief system, though.

God just doesn’t want me to move on. He’s so determined to keep me right where I am.

I just don’t see how Tom can believe I’m fine and that we just haven’t hit it right yet. He says that he too, feels that same emptiness and void I feel, but due to the fact that he believes our dream will be granted, he’s not as upset as I am. OK, I know he’s cum only about 8 times since last July, but he’s done so 10 days after my period, 12 days after it, 14 days after it, 15 days after it, 16 days after it, and about 18 days after it that I know of. One of these should have hit it right. I know something’s wrong. I asked him if he thought that maybe I could be one of those women who just never ovulate and he said no, cuz that’s just so unusual. Then all the more likely this is for me since being unusual is the highlight of my life.

So, this is the deal we made, which I also told Andy. In March I’ll be going for a PAP and at that time I’ll casually mention we’ve been trying for several months and haven’t hit it right and see if they’ve got any suggestions for us. I’m sure, though, that they’re not gonna suggest anything we haven’t already heard of. If we ever stood a chance in hell, he’d need to cum 5-7 days in a row during that time frame and I told him I just can’t see him doing this. He says, though, that his amount of cumming will increase and that he’ll eventually be getting off every time we have sex, then he reminded me I also could never see him ever cumming or us getting him on top. True, and I hope I’m dead wrong and that he’s totally right when he says that for March we’ll need to turn around and make me an appointment with an OB.

Anyway, he and I agreed to do whatever we need to. He’s willing to get tested, go through in vitro, etc. However, I still say you can’t fight fate and that not us, nor any doctor, nor God could ever help us to get this child that just isn’t meant to be. Yes, I fear punishment from God for rebelling against what he’s set my fate out to be, but I guess that at this point, like I told Tom and Andy, I’d rather take whatever punishments God’s gonna dish out to me cuz he can’t punish me any further than he already has. I still know, though, that this void will never be filled. I’ll always live with this empty, incomplete, cheated feeling.

Andy’s glad we’re gonna be going to a doctor and he says that it’s not that he doesn’t believe what I have to say as far as my 6th sense, my woman’s intuition, and the DES, but that he’ll really believe whatever a doctor has to say. He reminded me about his sister Linda who needed in vitro. But Linda’s not a DES daughter. See, I think that the problem with DES daughters isn’t that the egg can’t be fertilized, it’s that the tissue lining the cervix and uterus is so inflamed, that the embryo can’t get a grip on the wall of the uterus.

Andy asked me how I can be sure that Tom isn’t shooting blanks. Cuz if he was, God couldn’t have used him to tease me with that spot attack last August. I know he’s fine.

Andy said that even if a doctor told me yes, I’m sterile, that should help to really finalize it in my mind so I can move on. Yeah, I suppose, but in my mind, it’s already final enough. I fully believe 1997 will definitely be the year that this thing fully plays itself out. A miracle is either gonna happen and I’ll be proven more wrong than I ever was before, or a doctor will confirm my worst beliefs and fears.

I really believe the doctor will be telling us he’s fine and that there’s nothing he can do for me, so we should look into adoption. Andy said I should adopt a black baby since I’m not prejudiced and since there are so many out there who need homes and that God would love me doubly for it. First of all, God never has and never will love me 1 ounce and adoption is fine, but it’s not for me. If I can’t have my own - forget it.

I’ll have to choose between the two choices I’ve always had and will only always have - do I work doing some loser job, or do I just stay the way I am and clean the house and do my hobbies? Tom and I also agreed that come March, I’ll decide this.

Why should I settle, though, and live the life God wants me to live? I swear this body doesn’t belong to me. It’s God’s body. Everything of mine is his. His body, his mind, his life. Nothing’s up to me. Nothing belongs to me.

Anyway, Andy was a really good listener last night. I certainly didn’t want to wake Tom up with his cold, which is coming to an end now (it’s a miracle that I didn’t catch his cold!). Andy offered to treat me to Denny’s, but he got tied up at Quinn’s place. This worked out well, though, cuz I was just too drained physically, cuz my emotions just totally exhausted me. I ended up sleeping 12 hours, which I really needed. Especially since I had only slept 6-7 hours the previous two nights.

Got another letter from Marla who said she understood being sterile is personal and she doesn’t mean to pry or hurt me. I told her, though, that there’s nothing I haven’t been asked or heard, so she can ask me anything she wants to, and I told her the scoop on the DES and our plans for March. I also told Tammy, too.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 14, 1996 Just got done brushing my teeth and flossing them, too. After getting them all so clean, I want to keep up on them. Instead of just brushing them once daily, I want to brush them twice daily and floss them weekly. I’m also using the tooth whitener Kim sent eons ago.

I had some pretty serious pre-cramps for a minute there. Felt like my period was just 5 minutes away.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 13, 1996 Tom’s cold has set in. Hopefully, he’ll be better soon.

I’m still doing well with my teeth.

The pre-cramps are back. I had a few today, a few 2 days ago and a lot 3 days ago. Well, this half-woman will surely be ragging soon enough. If I rag on Wednesday, that’ll push me further into phase 3. So, let’s see, phase 1, when he didn’t cum at all, lasted about 3 years. Phase 2, where he cums once or twice a month, lasted about 6 months. Phase 3, where I can see that I’m sterile by not conceiving, will last forever and I’ll be deeper into it with each passing year. I need to go as deep as I can go to continue to help get me through this and move on however I can and even if it does mean a new curse. Due to being totally sure I’m sterile, I do hope for my period on Wednesday, to push me deeper into that final phase.

Got another message from Marla. She says she’s paying for that trip to Hawaii with a cold. That’s something God would do - let someone win a trip, then compensate them with a cold.

Looks like they just went to bed next door. There were lights on about 10 minutes ago and I thought I heard him rummaging through his car, but now the lights are off. I hope they stay the way they have been and don’t turn up the music and throw a few parties from May to September like they did before.

Anyway, Marla didn’t have much to say. She did ask me how I could be fine after having wisdom teeth pulled. She said she had all 4 of hers yanked when she was 17 and that she suffered for months and that childbirth was easy compared to that. Really?! I thought nothing was more painful than childbirth. Well, it sounds like her wisdom teeth were impacted.

I began drawing a new round of envelopes for Jenny. I usually do 5 at a time.

Almost down to 4 more days left till I get my best friend who loves me sooo much and who’s ever so faithful and dependable. Even though I’d prefer to get it on Wednesday, I may get it early cuz physically I’m really, really PMSing. The fucking scale said 106 earlier cuz I’m so bloated. If I hit 110, I’ll starve myself.

Shall I pray to God for my period so I can feel loved by him? Nah, I know he really hates me. Also, there’s nothing to pray for. My periods are inevitable. Totally etched in stone.

Once again Tom contradicted himself. When I had that spot attack, he told me he’d have been a bit concerned if my period hadn’t been different in some way. Oh yeah? Well, this is news to me cuz I asked him earlier if he’d be worried if all my periods had been normal since he began getting off and his answer was no. Not at this point.

Trust me - 10 years from now, he’ll still say everything’s fine - we just haven’t hit it right yet.

On January 1st, I’m gonna begin working out again, and am gonna stick to it no matter how boring it is.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 12, 1996 Those wisdom teeth are gone! Finally. They can’t bug me anymore every month or so like they had been for the last two years or so. Anyway, I ended up needing no sedation at all. No laughing gas or IV sedation. Just the Novocain. I was first brought into a room where this lady cleaned my teeth. What a difference! They look and feel so much better and they can actually be flossed now without getting hung up on built-up gunk. She didn’t use the ultrasonic machine, cuz she didn’t think I needed it. She hand-scaled the teeth with that pick they use. Then she polished them, then flossed them.

Then I was moved to another room for the extractions. It wasn’t like when I had the first two pulled, but at least it wasn’t painful. He just had to apply a lot of pressure, cuz they were a little crooked, unlike the others.

In East Longmeadow, the dentist who pulled my teeth did it in about 5 minutes. She just did 3 quick shots of Novocain and then it only took her 3 seconds to pull one tooth, then another 3 seconds to pull the other tooth, but this was different. He first swabbed on some numbing stuff that’s like Anbesol. Then he did give me 3 different Novocain shots, but he held the Novocain gun in position for several minutes after he did each shot. Then he left the room for about 10 minutes to let it get working. This is also something new to me.

Then it came time to pull them and they were much more stubborn than the last two. Once again, the pressure was more uncomfortable, but I couldn’t feel it. It took about 40 seconds for the top one to go, then about two minutes for the bottom one to go.

Then I bit down on some gauze, but it quickly stopped bleeding. After barely an hour, it stopped oozing blood.

I saw the teeth too, and I didn’t know they were as big as they were. I could see all the grayish ugly decay that was on one of them.

So, Tom was really proud of me, and Andy couldn’t believe I just had Novocain. He needed Valium and laughing gas.

Shortly after we got home, the numbness wore off and it was a bit achy, so I took some Ibuprofen, but I’m sure I won’t need the prescription Tylenol he gave me at all. Then after a couple of hours after being home, I felt as good as new, as I do now. If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t know I had teeth pulled today. Guess that after breaking a bone and having my head drilled, it makes things like this pretty tolerable, but I still couldn’t have a kid naturally. I’d either go into shock or go crazy, but Tom disagrees. He thinks I’d say that it wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be. I don’t see how, though. Also, if I knew I was gonna break my arm again and couldn’t do anything to stop it, I’d be scared shitless.

Tom was so good at helping me out. He got me a milkshake and some cheesecake when he stopped at Jack-n-the-Box after bringing me home. He also said that the waiting was a breeze after having to wait for me for 5 hours when my head was rearranged.

Tom said, “I know this may sound selfish, but better you than me since you’re a toughie.” He said he’d no doubt need IV sedation. I let him know, though, that if he ever needed his teeth yanked, I’d be there to hold his hand.

We called my parents and let them know everything went well. Ma said I should’ve brought them home for the tooth fairy.

They won’t be calling on New Year’s Eve cuz they won’t be there, but we’ll talk again next year.

Now I have some weird news. I’m gonna get my period, cuz that’s logic, but the weird part is that I’ve had no pre-cramps today and my tits feel better. Usually, it builds up, then the day before your period, it eases up. I wonder if this means I’ll get my period tomorrow. That’d be 5 days early, though.

Tom just thinks it’s only a matter of us hitting it right and that if he got off in me when I was ovulating, I’d probably be pregnant.

I just remembered something Kim told me. I had asked her if a woman gets laid 14 days after her period, wouldn’t she be pregnant? Kim said, yes, if she’s on a 28-day cycle. In other words, if I get my period on the 18th, that’d be really bad and that’d really prove my belief right all the more, cuz that’d be a 28-day cycle.

I just wish God would give Tom and I a break! We really do deserve it with all the shit we’ve been through since we’ve known each other, let alone all our lives.

Anyway, he and I checked out those games I downloaded and most of them are so cool. Tom showed me how to unzip, unpack and install them. He even likes some of them, too. A lot of them have really nice graphics and colors and one of them has really pretty music to it. I got lots of dice games, card games, shapes games and puzzle games.

I went on AOL an hour ago and on my buddy list, which tells you if anyone on your list is currently online, I saw that Alex was online. I sent him an instant message and he sent one back. After sending each other a few messages, we said goodbye and went back to doing what we were doing.

I also got a reply from Marla, which I read to Andy, as she asked me to. She and her husband won a contest for a trip to Hawaii. Lucky them! Other than that, she has a cold, just like Tom does, but Tom’s always got something going on with him when there’s something going on with me. Anyway, she told me about going snorkeling in Hawaii and just stuff like that. It was nice hearing from her for once.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 11, 1996 Awesome! I went to AOL to see if I could find some interesting games. I like games that are fairly simple, yet fun and challenging enough without lots of detail in their graphics. So I went to the kid’s games and found tons of neat stuff. It all takes just over an hour to download. Can’t wait till Tom can unzip and unpack them, cuz this is something I don’t know how to do. I do know how to delete games that I don’t like, though.

Kim called last night and I got an email from Alex. Both say they’ve got tons of snow. Of course, I rubbed into them how beautiful it’s been here at nearly 80º.

I’ll probably get a letter from Kim today. She can’t type me any letters yet. Her mom gave her an ancient computer and soon she’ll get her ancient printer.

No pre-cramps yet today, but I had them yesterday and then, even more, the day before. Still I’m 1000% sure to get my period in about a week.

After the first of the year, I’m gonna get all the birthday cards I’ll need for January - February. Those will be for Larry, Lisa, Jenny, Sandy and Andy.

Later…

I finally finished my proofreading project. Now Tom can make backups again.

No mail from Kim, but I got a Chanukah card from Larry and his family.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 10, 1996 Once again, I’m as sterile as I always knew I’d be. For the last two days, I’ve felt pre-cramps and you know you can’t have one without the other. Meaning, pre-cramps and periods go hand in hand. It’d be like trying to have feet without legs. The good side to having those inevitable monthly rages is that in 8 days I’ll get some tit relief. They’ve been very sore.

Once again, Tom’s in denial, telling me we can never know when I ovulate, everything’s fine and we’ll have a kid someday. Is he that blind to reality, or does he really just not want to deal with it?

Now that God’s graduated me to the final step after so long, it’s time for me to start seriously thinking about what to do with my life. It’s obvious I don’t have a destiny, cuz while God kept a child from me, he hasn’t led me into anything else. I have no idea what he wants me to do or what I’m supposed to do. Guess I’m still meant to do nothing and to just keep things the way they are, cuz I still don’t want to settle, either. Most people, like Tom and Andy, may have no choice, but if staying home means not doing something my heart isn’t into, then I’m sure that’s what I’ll always do.

I did a little bit of ‘roof picking’ from the yard and some more proofreading. I only have about 8 left to go.

It’s actually kind of hot out there today.

I think the freeloaders haven’t been home today or yesterday. Someone’s been there daily, cuz I see lights on, but it seems that for the last few weeks, the asshole’s been gone Monday - Wednesday. If so, I hope this continues. They’ve really been great since around Labor Day.

I cleaned like hell yesterday, so for now, I think I’ll go read and do some word puzzles.

Later…

Yup, the time has surely come to be compensated for those wonderful few days and to be slapped back into reality. I’m so mad right now! All I want to do is sit here and bash God right now. I hate him sooo much! In fact, I’m so mad right now, that I can’t even concentrate.

Later…

Tom managed to cheer me up, even though we still believe differently about a kid in our lives and about God.

Tom also took the blinds down from outside the living room window. Then he fixed its inner blinds which were half off the rod. Afterward, I put tinfoil in the window. So now all the windows are foiled, except for the back room.

I also tried out a game I downloaded from AOL, but it sucked. Too much like a math project.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 8, 1996 Wow! I got a reply from John Saul and he gave me his website info. I called Tammy and told her about it and I’ll mention it to my folks in my next letter to them.

I checked out his website, which was nice.

Also, we were curious and looked to see if there were any Ronstadt or Estefan members. There was an Evelyn Estefan in Miami, whoever the hell that is. Also, Linda’s niece Melinda and her brother Mike, both in Tucson, are members.

The backyard looks great. Going out for a ciggie now.

Later…

What a gorgeous day it’s been. It nearly hit 80º. It’s been nice and quiet, too.

My search of the Internet for anything on Norah (Jenny Seagrove) turned up nothing. Guess Tom and I will have to search together, but it’ll be more fun that way.

Tom’s been off to a wonderful start on his Chanukah present to me. Yesterday was a really fun and productive day.

He managed to scrape off the sticker that was on the back of this book. I wish they’d quit putting stickers on journals.

The only other thing I’d like Tom to do is to take the blinds down from outside the living room window. The last of the monsoons really tore them up and half of the blinds are scattered all over the front patio.

Now this pen’s dying. He may be bringing me home a new one, or else I’ll just have to ballpoint it. He’s at his ma’s now and he’s pretty sure she’ll pay him for helping her out. She can drive herself to work, but she needs help getting new curtains.

There goes those fucking dogs. I swear if I didn’t know any better I’d say they were in our yard and not two yards away.

Later…

Got a new pen. Just in time, too.

Tom’s home now and we just got done discussing plans for the pig and bun’s new cage. Rather than having one that’s 4’ x 4’, we’re gonna make it 8’ x 2’.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1996 Tom’s out getting groceries but will be back soon.

The last few days sure have been wonderful and surprising. I just hope to hell I’m not in for any killer compensation. Getting my period on the 18th should be enough. It’d be nice if it were the other way around, though. This should be my compensation for all the tough times I’ve had! (having this lucky spell).

We’re gonna screw when he gets back. I wonder if he’ll cum. It seems too soon, though, and I figure he won’t cum till right before my period. Hope I can eat my words, though. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. I’m on an “eat my words” streak.

If I get a journal as a gift from someone, I don’t care if they’re ugly or duplicates, but no, I wouldn’t have picked the 4 my parents sent me. Instead of describing them as old or ugly looking, I’d describe this one as cute and the next 3 as different and interesting, cuz they’re from someone else.

Later…

I don’t have that much to write now, cuz soon we’ll be screwing.

I still don’t see why he has to always make “pre-sex duties.” He says he does it so he doesn’t have to worry about feeling like he has to take a dump during sex, but I still wonder about it. How can you time when you’re gonna take a dump, anyway? You can’t make yourself shit if you don’t have to.

Now that we can stay on AOL as long as we want, we did some interesting research, but I’ll get into it later.

Later…

Well, no eating my words about the last thing I wrote about. He didn’t cum. He will, though, in about a week.

We just ate some of the pies he made. One vanilla one and one chocolate one. We had some of the vanilla one, but it tasted like butterscotch. It was still really good.

Right now he’s watching some TV while I write. Later we’ll do some yard work. He’s gonna hammer up the last piece of wood over a portion of the patio with which he had run out of wood to cover. He’s also gonna cut a notch in it for the flag to go through. We’re gonna fix the flag with the flag unfurler (is that even a word?) that my folks sent and he’s also gonna edge, trim the hedges and clean up the patio a bit. Then, I’ll continue on with picking up shit from out there every so often.

My weight has still been the same as it has been since around last August. That’s another way I know that nothing hooked, cuz by now I’d have a few extra pounds of water on me. I also don’t “sense” or feel anything different about my body. The only weird experience was the day my nipples burned, but it hasn’t happened again since.

What did we do on AOL? Well, we were finally able to find out that that song of Linda’s called Dreams to Dream is from a soundtrack called An American Tail: Fievel Goes West. I was also shocked to see that she’s been on 108 albums. That many?! These extra songs I didn’t know about, though, are either from soundtracks or her doing backup on other people’s albums.

We also checked into information about John Saul and found that quite a few people had comments to make about him. Even more shocking, he has his own email address. It’s gotta be him, cuz he said he used the name John Saul, lives in Seattle, was born in 42, and lists his occupation as a writer.

In fact, I’m gonna go leave him a message now, and one for Marla, too.

Later…

OK, I just left Marla a message, but I’m pretty sure I won’t hear back from her. She’s too busy. In fact, I don’t see how any mom could have the time to play around on a computer.

I also left John a message. I told him I wasn’t sure if he was the one who wrote all those great books, but that he’s a fantastic writer, anyway. I also asked him about the set of 6 books I hear he’s supposed to be putting out. I told him that my husband basically reads computer books, but that I was gonna convince him to read his books one of these days. From what I’ve heard, Black Lightning, his latest book that I haven’t read yet, is a bore. I hope not, but there were about 3 other books of his that were sort of a bore.

I wonder if he’ll reply to my message, but I doubt it. He’s probably a very busy person. Hopefully, I’ll hear from his fan club soon.

Tom also created what’s called a buddy list. That tells you if any of the people you have in your address book come online while you’re online, like Tammy or Alex.

Tom’s out fixing up the last touches to the roof over the patio.

Earlier, we also ordered another CD for me for just $2. This is from Columbia House. That fucked up record club we’re in. You can order from this shady club on AOL. I got another old Linda CD.

Yesterday I chatted with Larry, Tammy, and my folks and that was nice.

Tammy says they got a huge snowstorm and naturally, I burst out laughing. She said driving was miserable and that there were tons of accidents. Well, the accidents are no laughing matter, but it sure sounds like they got much more than just a dusting of snow. I told her to be careful driving. She wouldn’t want to be killed and not be around to hear my laugh she loves so much. She was like, yeah right! So, I let her know how nice it is here. It’s a lot nicer than it was a couple of days ago.

When I talked to Larry, his son was there, too. I started off by saying I’d heard about the snowstorm and burst out laughing. Then he kept upping the amount of snow and cold to get me to laugh more and he said they were gonna get 6 feet of snow by the weekend.

Larry also read me the funniest Christmas poem, but I can’t remember it. I told him to type it up for me and send me a copy of that and some other poem, but I know he won’t. It was so funny, too. It was dirty with all kinds of swears. All I remember is something about Ma being a whore, Dad smoking grass and in a Christmas sock, a big rubber dick for his brother who’s queer, and Santa blowing up the chimney with one great fart that ripped the chimney apart.

I talked to his son briefly, too. He’s lucky, cuz he says he loves the snow.

I don’t know if Tammy got her mugs yet due to the snow, but Mom and Dad did and they love them. I called them again, cuz I just had to thank them for my journals. I was flying for quite a while after receiving them.

They say Tom’s got a Christmas present coming.

They also had a picture frame that matched two of the journals (the ones with stamps). She said to leave it blank and that there’s a reason for it, so obviously she’s sending some picture for it.

Also, I told her I had tried to reach Marty and Ruth and she said I could send them a Chanukah card, but that they acknowledged my letter and know I made a "mistake” in my “accusation” towards them. In other words - don’t call, cuz they still don’t want to know me and they’re still hung up on our past problems.

Fine with me.

Later…

Just got a hold of Tammy, who got the mugs and said never to write their address on boxes with markers again, cuz the snow washed part of it off. Also, she says I looked awful and Tom looked fine. I don’t know if she was joking about my looking awful, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she were serious, cuz I really did look awful. Just about every picture I’ve ever taken looks shitty. So, I told her we were microwave and dishwasher safe, so not to worry about zapping us or throwing us in the dishwasher.

We didn’t talk long, cuz she was doing paperwork. One of her patients is almost out the door, but that’s her job; to deal with people dying of cancer. I know she can relate to these people after Bill went through his ordeal, but I’d think she wouldn’t want to be reminded of cancer patients and see what they go through, after dealing with what Bill’s gone through. Hasn’t she had enough of the subject?

Later…

We just put the new stuff on the flag to make it pivot and not get all wrapped up and got the flag up. It looks nice. I’ve got one up there now with white flowers on a pink background.

Gotta go check the mail.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 5, 1996 I have so very, very much to write about. I hope to hell I can remember everything cuz the last couple of days have been the best in so very long. God, I needed this break! And I needed this string of great luck!

The night before last, Andy sang me the funny farm song and a few clips from other songs. He even wrote a love song about Quinn that he sang on his machine. He played that for me and it was so well written, as usual.

The happiest part of my birthday was when Tom came. I couldn’t believe it! Boy, was ever wrong for the better, huh? I know what this means, though. It’s time for phase 3. That final step. It’ll be a miracle if God changed his mind and allowed me to get pregnant now and that would be the ultimate way for me to really eat my words, but I know better. I don’t see my period on the 18th and I haven’t had any dreams about it, but I’m sure that I’ll sense my period stronger as we get closer to the 18th. How I wish I could be dead wrong yet again in the greatest way ever! Stop it Mystery, don’t dream too much!

Still, it was so nice to get both second-best birthday wishes and first-best birthday wishes granted. I thought that if I got really damn lucky, he’d screw me without getting off, during one of the prime conception days. I never imagined we screw this much and that he’d get off, too. Today we’re building up for some more fun tomorrow. He’ll break another record if he cums tomorrow, cuz he usually only cums once every couple of weeks.

The feeling I had yesterday, and even today, is just wonderful. It’s so great to feel like such a winner who’s having everything work out great and not be blinded by feelings of anger, sadness, and frustration. I needed this change so bad. I was so overdue for it. I hope God really will have a change of heart and let me move on. He’s “tested” me enough.

Also, there’s no more room in my mind for doubting Tom. There’s no way he’d have cum yesterday if he really wanted to stall the kid and remember, he thinks I’m perfectly fine, as far as my plumbing goes.

Yes, I fear compensation for this wonderful spell, cuz that’s just how life works, but I hope that this great feeling lasts longer. It’s so great to once again feel like God may not hate me that much after all. Like I said, though, I’m not sure how he’s gonna end this baby quest thing. I could have a regular period, I could spot, I could get pregnant and lose it or I could suddenly need a hysterectomy. We’ll just have to wait and see which one happens, but I’m pretty sure I’ll just keep having regular periods. Tom said not to worry if I get a period, cuz we can’t know when I’m ovulating, so don’t give up. I’m sorry, though, but any woman who went through that “change” at my age and who doesn’t get pregnant at this time, is definitely sterile.

Anyway, when Tom left me a happy birthday message two nights ago, he said something about screwing up something. He went into his little room in back and pulled out two journals I already have that are the same as 99 and 111 (cats). That’s fine, though, and I wondered what was taking so long as far as someone getting me one I already had. I mean, I’ve been writing for just over 9 years, and have over 125 journals, so I figured that it’d have to happen anytime now. I could change the cover, but why bother? They’re nice covers.

I got another dupe journal from Andy, too, but I’ll get into that later.

So, Tom cleaned the printer with alcohol on the morning of the 4th and I used my pretty new paper to do letters up to my folks, Tammy & Bill, Lisa, Becky & Sarah, Kim and Andy. Soon, I’ll do one for Larry.

Also, my parents called yesterday and we really did have a very pleasant chat. Ma was a lot like Dad. She didn’t seem like the typical hostile bitch she is and like she wanted to hurry me off the phone. She was even joking along with Dad. She wasn’t that all too serious, impatient tyrant. They called at 8:30 AM our time, wished me a happy birthday, and asked how Tom and his mom were.

I asked how their store was doing and it’s picking up, I guess, due to the snowbirds coming in.

Goldie and Al aren’t going down there this year. They’re going to Hawaii. Lucky them! Boo and Max are coming down. They didn’t say a word about Marty and Ruth, so I guess they don’t want to bother with me.

Whatever.

I was gonna tell them about how Larry tells me it’s freezing there, no matter what time of year it is so I can give him my laugh, but they said they knew about it. He told them.

If it’s not personal, they can usually keep a secret so I told them we sent Chanukah checks to Tammy’s kids in the amounts of their ages and they thought that was a lovely idea. Ma then said that they got checks for $275 for their ages.

Ha, ha, ha.

Dad was on TV again the other night. A rerun of America’s Most Wanted.

They were joking about them getting old and how their kids were supposed to take care of them. I told them that when they end up in wheelchairs, I’ll take them back to Woodside Terrace and roll them down that hilly street, across Locust, and down into the Mill River.

Those were the highlights of our conversation and they say they want both Tom and I to call them around the New Year. We can call as late as 11 PM their time. Dad pretty much crashes at 11:00, but Ma’s up till midnight or 1 AM watching TV or reading.

This pretty much covers yesterday’s events.

When I got up last night, there was a package from my parents. They sent two checks that were each for $25 for both my birthday and Chanukah. A birthday and Chanukah card, too.

First of all, Tom said Tammy called last night. She wanted to wish me a happy birthday, but I had crashed already. She teased me and they talked about the computers for a bit. Also, she claims to have gotten me a card, but it came back to her cuz she forgot to put a stamp on it. Right! She never got a card. I know her and she does this every year. Lisa accidentally threw it out, or it got lost, or some excuse, but that’s OK.

Ma sent mostly household items. Why do they keep sending me perfume stuff? Don’t they listen? Better yet, don’t they know their own daughter’s got allergies?

Anyway, there were about 3 perfume candles and two candleholders. I kept one of the candleholders but gave the other one and the candles to Andy. He and Laura love that kind of stuff.

She also sent some little glass bottles I had no use for, so Andy took those, too.

She sent a little pen holder that I kept and two really pretty little tiny plant pots. They’ve got flowers painted on them.

She sent 5 T-shirts and I gave one to Andy. I have sooooooo many of them. So I went and gave Tom some old T-shirts to use for rags. The T-shirts she sent, though, were really nice.

Lastly, if I’ve remembered everything, she sent stuff for fixing the part of the flagpole I broke. The round cylinder that goes around the pole to make the flag pivot and not wrap around the pole like it’s been doing.

Tom says he’s gonna mow this weekend and then we can fix the flag. I hope! Then I’ll begin picking up stray materials over the yard that were from when he was doing the roof.

Also, when I got up, Tom had left a message saying that Bunny kicked the side of the cage out and was out in the back room. I really wanted to beat the shit out of that rabbit. Better yet, throw her out back, but Tom taped the side of the cage up really well. We also discussed building their new cage, once again, and it should be cheaper than we anticipated since we can use parts from this cage. I really want to get Bunny a bunny harness and we probably will be getting that in a couple of weeks, along with just two kitty mugs, since I’m stocked up on journals. We still need to use any money we get for Christmas presents for his family and my teeth.

Miraculously, once again, it doesn’t look like Bunny hurt anything.

Tom and Andy think Bunny may be a boy and Tom thinks Piggy may be a girl. Piggy’s a boy, I still think, but yes, Bunny could be a boy.

Last night at 2 AM, Andy came over. He and I had some coffee and some spag I made, while we exchanged stuff. As I knew he would, he loved the Halloween stuff Ma sent me. He didn’t really care for the pineapple flags any more than I did, so that and one of Laura’s shirts will be left in a bag by the mailbox that he’ll mail my NPNs from.

Laura had two shirts, a long pair of gray jeans and a white pair of shorts for me. Like I said, I didn’t like one of the shirts and that’ll be by the mailbox. One of them was OK. It was a flannel, long-sleeved shirt with tiny black numbers on a pink background. I was shocked that the shorts and the pants were too big on me, as he described Laura as Brenda - tall and bone thin. Tom could wear the shorts and if I get fatter, I could wear them. The pants, I can wear with a belt, but they’re awfully long and baggy.

So, what did Andy get me? A birthday card, which I’ll copy in what he wrote in it in a minute, a candy bar, and 3 journals. He wrote on one of the pages in one of the journals, too. The journal Andy got me that I already have is the one I’m currently in with the fairies and the stars and the bumpy purple-lined paper. So, now I’ve got 3 journals that I have two copies of. They’re all really nice and it’s nice to be stocked up on journals. I have 5 blanks after I finish this fairy one.

Tom wrote a page in one of the journals he got me, too. Here’s what Andy wrote in his birthday card to me:

Dear Jodi,

To my best friend in the whole wide world! I love you. I got your birth date right this year and I sang on key too and wrote a new song all within minutes. Totally inspired by having to sing They’re Coming To Take Me Away and wanting to sing it a new way, I came up with more magic. If not for you I would not have that new song. I would have just two words lying under the jellyfish in the sand. Bee’s learn how to use algebra while stinging people playing golf in Lexington, Kentucky but right now I’m in Pompano Beach, FLA on my imaginary tour.

Andy

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 4, 1996 When I got up, stickers were waiting for me. Tom got me these and musical note computer stationery. The notes go around the border. I hope I can get him to clean the printer, cuz when I use manual feed and not the tractor, it keeps going offline. He also made me a really nice cake and I got a $31 check from his mom.

Later…

Yes! Yes! Yes! Thank you, Tom, and thank you, God! I not only had not one bit of irritation this morning when we screwed, but he got off!!! I’m so psyched and so happy right now, but I’ll write more later. I’m getting kind of beat.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 3, 1996 Sex this morning was fine. I felt a bit of irritation when he first went in there, but once he got moving, no problem. He didn’t get off, but I could tell he was really close. He said he wanted to, but just couldn’t get off and that he was frustrated. Do I believe him and that he didn’t fear getting me pregnant? Yes. He really seemed truly bummed, but we’re gonna be screwing again tomorrow. I don’t expect him to get off tomorrow and grant me my wish (I’ve wished for a month he’d get off on my birthday which is mid-cycle), but at least I was wrong about suspecting he wouldn’t touch me. Wouldn’t it still be just wonderful if he did get off tomorrow? Since I still don’t see how a miracle would happen if he did, I guess that’d mean entering that final step. However, I’m sure God’s not ready for me to enter that final step and I’ve got to remind myself not to get my hopes up of him cumming tomorrow, let alone a baby. I believe that God’s not done with me yet as far as this current step I’m on, though. I don’t think he’s done either punishing me or “testing” me, but oh how I wish I could know and see that I’ll be dead wrong! Please, God! For once, won’t you have a heart and let me move on? Let me have my dream and move on? Please don’t hold me back anymore!

I also hope that given the fact that Tom should be less worried about my irritation down there, pretty horny, and that we’re at the perfect angle for him to get off, he doesn’t consciously or subconsciously fear making a kid tomorrow, he should have no problem. I just hope to hell he isn’t teasing me by getting my hopes up, but I don’t think so. I think he honestly tried today and gave it his all, and I’m pretty sure he’ll do the same tomorrow.

I just hope and I wish – oh – stop it, Mystery! Remember what dreams are for and past patterns pertaining to your wishes and dreams and the fact that God still may very well hate you and have you under a curse or some kind of punishment.

Tom told me his opinion about the saying ‘God doesn’t give us any more than we can handle’. He thinks that’s just people’s way of encouraging others. You know, as if to say, go for it! That makes more sense, like I said, due to the fact that there have been plenty of suicide and homicide victims in this world.

I contemplated praying to God about tomorrow’s sex but opted not to. Why? Cuz if he really does get mad at me when I talk to him or ask him for something, I don’t want to egg him on. Also, fate is still fate, whether I pray or not and he already knows what’s gonna happen tomorrow. I can’t change his mind about what’ll happen tomorrow, either.

I talked to Andy last night and he said that tonight he’ll sing the funny farm song. My birthday song, more or less. He’ll also be over Thursday night.

Andy gave me Marla’s screen name over AOL. I could swear I’ve tried to find her over the membership list, but couldn’t, so Tom’s gonna help me on the 6th. As of the 6th, it’ll be unlimited service at a flat-rate fee. Andy also gave her my screen name.

Tom read what I wrote in my last entry.

Anyway, I’m gonna go do some cleaning, then I’m just gonna read and do puzzles.

Later…

Thanks, God. Now I can’t even watch TV while I’m eating popcorn or potato chips. I went to turn the TV on to an old rerun of Charlie’s Angels while I ate, but the reception was screwed up. Then I went to run through an old Norah tape of edits I’d made from different movies of hers and the tape got eaten up. Ironically, right before this, I didn’t pray to God for a kid, but I prayed for him to keep the irritation away cuz we wanted to have fun and try to make a kid tomorrow and this is what I get for it. This is no coincidence, either, and no one can convince me otherwise.

Why did I even bother? This is really all my fault. I should’ve known better and instead, I got what I asked for. Trouble. I hope I get compensated for this tomorrow, somehow, but I still feel quite certain of what tomorrow will bring - sex with no cumming. Not by him anyway. Oh, how I still wish I could end up wrong!

I think I’m gonna go do some singing in a while. Meanwhile, I wonder if my parents or anyone else will call tomorrow? If they do, though, they’re not gonna get me, cuz I’ll be asleep. I’ll tell Tom to tell anyone who may call that I’ve got a slight cold; no big deal, though.

I called Mom earlier. Tom’s mom, that is, and the people behind her dumped two more bunnies. One just like my bunny and a full-grown white one that’s about 4 pounds. I wouldn’t mind having the white one, but Bunny stinks enough, so we don’t need two bunnies stinking up the place.

Ma says she really likes the puzzles I gave her. She likes number puzzles and now that she’s got a lot of them, she won’t have to worry about running out of puzzles for a while.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 2, 1996 I already know now, that yes, my suspicions of what Tom’s gonna do over the next 5 days will be correct. He’s already proven this to me and his actions are just way, way too obvious about what he’s doing. I got up last night at 10:30 and guess who was still up? He was in the bathroom which I kicked him out of cuz I had to go. Then he told me he was just on his way to bed. See? It’s like he was waiting for me. Waiting to show me how late he’s gonna be staying up so he can be all the more tired in the mornings. Yet what did he say to me yesterday afternoon? That he was going to bed fairly early. Is this the kind of man I really want to have a child with? Can he handle it any more than I could? I don’t think so. If he can contradict the things he says to me, he’s just gonna do the same to that child. If he can promise me time and time again that he’s gonna finish the back room and other projects we started, what’s he gonna promise the kid? Well, it’s obvious to me that the TV, the computer, and doing for others are more important to him than any plans we’ve made. This doesn’t help me with being more consistent with things myself and of course, I could go through the list of reasons why I would make a lousy mother, but I won’t. You already know them.

He’s just gotten way too obvious about the fact that he does not want a child. Once again, I wish he would just stick to his word and the deals we make and fully level with me. Why does he have to jerk me around like this? Does it really give him such a laugh? He’s not even gonna try and I’ll bet he’ll be up before 4 AM, too.

I did not like what I saw at all when I checked the horoscopes on AOL. Like I said, they seem to be right on when they get into all the negative stuff. They did contradict themselves, too, and make references to things working out and getting what’s wanted, but for the most part, both our readings were all about arguments, tension, and turmoil in the household, not much romance in the marriage and marriage threatened by unpleasant suspicions. Well, I certainly do have my unpleasant suspicions and they began 2½ hours before they were supposed to. Actually, they began 6 hours earlier than they were supposed to, but I should’ve known he’d be up. He’ll be up till 10:00 or 11:00 for the next 4 days or so. Even his horoscope said he’s gonna feel pressured and to not give in to it or try to fulfill impossible dreams in romance. See, anyone who’s so pressured by something they claim to want obviously doesn’t want it. I can smell the fear within him from a mile away. Well, he can rest assured, cuz once again, I don’t want to have a child with the way he is or with the way I am and the longer things stay the same, the harder it is for me to handle changes, anyway.

Now’s my chance to go along with God and maybe get some respect from him. I wonder if I should tell him when he gets up that I don’t want to have sex over the next few days and beat him to it. I’ll tell him I’ll explain this in January. He told me in January I could strike any deal I wanted with him and he’ll stick to it no matter what. Right! He couldn’t stick to anything anymore than I could. In January, I’d tell him just what I’ve written. I don’t know what to do for sure. A part of me says to not jump the gun and to just play it by ear, but I already know what’s gonna happen over the next 5 days - nothing. Why wait and see what happens when I’ve already seen it and will continue to see it?

Besides, like I said and like I know, I’m sterile, anyway. And also, dreams are dreams. Dreams are for dreaming and not for reality. If dreams were for reality, no one would have any dreams.

I just don’t know what to do or say for sure. Asking God’s useless, cuz there’s no getting help from him, that’s for sure. He and Tom already have their minds made up for me and my fate is sealed.

I wonder what Tom would do if I was all over him this morning. Let me guess - he’d say he was too tired, but if he did screw me, he’d never get off.

I told Tom before Thanksgiving that I didn’t look forward to going cuz I knew I’d be bored shitless. The night before I wasn’t feeling good at all emotionally and physically and had been up 20 hours. He said that cuz I didn’t want to go, my body was making excuses. That’s just what his body and mind are doing right now.

How much do you want to bet, though, that if I told him what I just wrote, he’d deny it and say I was being cruel and that I was all wrong and turn it into an attack on me? Well, of course he’s gonna say that. Did I ever expect he’d come out and tell me, “Yes, you’re right? I stalled it all I could, due to still believing you’re fertile, but not wanting to deal with the possibility with you that you’re right about being sterile. Also, I do like to tease you and I do like to instill patience in you and try to control and change you. Also, I’m not sure I really want a kid all that bad. I had just been too afraid to tell you all this for fear that you’d leave me.”

The bottom line is this, I can’t help being angry at Tom and God. It’s the principle of the point. Even though I know I’m sterile, it still really pisses me off to see what they’re doing. It’s mean, it’s unfair and it’s depressing. I don’t want to pressure Tom into doing stuff he doesn’t want to do, but he makes it awfully hard for me when he won’t fully level with me and stick to his story or whatever he decides. Still, I have to try my hardest, harder than ever, to keep in mind that I’m sterile and just let God and Tom do their thing and not give in to it or let it get to me. This is gonna be a very hard task that I don’t know if I can ever do, but I’ve got to try.

I think what I’ll do is this. When he comes out staggering and moaning about how tired he is, that’s when I’ll tell him I don’t want to screw till after the 6th, and that I’ll explain how I feel after the first of the year.

Later…

I hate it when doctors’ offices call to reschedule appointments, cuz it’s not always easy for Tom to get me to them. We had to cancel Nielsen and bump him up to January 9th. This is cuz it’d be easier for Tom and there’s no way I could be there with the way my schedule is now. I just hope to hell I can make it to the dentist. These wisdom teeth have got to go.

Tom and I had a very nice chat this morning that really helped to clarify a lot of things in my mind and that helped make me feel much better. First of all, when he got up, it seemed like he was yawning big time and as I said before, I figured he was tired and wanted to be so it’d be impossible or hard to screw. So, I asked if we could lie down together at around 5:30, figuring that’d be enough time for him to digest. I thought then when I asked him this, there was a bit of reluctance in his voice, but he said yes. When we were lying down together, I felt tempted to tell him that I felt guilty and like I was pressuring him or making him feel uncomfortable. That’s the last thing I want the poor guy to have to feel. He said he was OK, though, so we got on with playing.

As I’ve mentioned before, I sometimes get irritation right around the opening, but it’s never prevented me from screwing before. Usually, I’m just somewhat aware of it as he first goes inside there, but once he starts moving, it’s fine. This time, though, it was pretty darn irritated from the get-go. I was gonna stop him a few different times, but then it got really uncomfortable, so then I stopped him. I was just really horny, needed to get off as I did, and didn’t want to deprive him. However, as the irritation escalated, he didn’t seem like he was into it, anyway. Panic gripped me right away after we got up. I really felt like it was God adding insult to injury (hurting me for having unprotected sex and not “obeying” him, even though I’m sterile. Also, cuz the birthday I wasn’t supposed to have is coming up). This is how I felt. Then, I let it all out about all I’d written earlier and he explained how and why I jumped the gun and he got me to see things I never saw on my own. For starters, he told me that due to my being wound up all night, that’s why the irritation was worse. I never would’ve thought of that as a reason if he didn’t point it out and he said I don’t have to wait a couple of weeks before we screw again.

At that moment, I also swore we’d always use rubbers cuz of the way I felt both he and God were either out to get me or had more on their minds about the idea of a kid than met my eye. Tom swears, though, that he isn’t trying to stall the kid, isn’t trying to change or control me before making the kid, and that the number of times we screw and screw with him getting off will increase.

He also explained to me that he wasn’t tired, he was into it, the sex was fine, and would’ve initiated sex if I hadn’t. He said that the reason he stood up last night was that he was caught up on his sleep and planned to go to bed earlier tonight, so he’d be up earlier on Tuesday. I told him I understood Tuesdays were out of the question and he said that’s not necessarily the case. That’s cool.

He told me that last night he was working on getting things done around here at a time when he felt awake enough and that there wouldn’t be any distractions. I guess he is really making more of an effort than I realized and gave him credit for, as far as getting stuff done around here and projects for us. I guess in a lot of ways, he really is more consistent than me. I couldn’t hold a job like he can.

I have mixed emotions about jumping the gun and being wrong like I was. I was wrong in a good kind of way, cuz I certainly wouldn’t want to be right about a bad feeling I had, but I feel bad about it all the same. I tried to think in my mind of ways in which it would appear in my mind that I was dead wrong. I thought of the shakes he’s been taking. I know they give him more energy, so I tried to ask myself if maybe that’s why he was awake. I think, though, from what he told me, he’s taking the shakes to have the energy for us to do stuff we like and want to do. He also likes the taste of those shakes.

Instead of getting mad at me and making us both feel worse, he really opened my eyes and made me feel better. I hope I didn’t hurt him, cuz that’s the last thing I’d ever want to do, no matter what I felt about him, and no matter if I was wrong or right. He said not to worry, things are still progressing nicely, and that we all jump the gun here and there. He's even jumped the gun on me, he told me. He said that when we were going to the dentist, he thought I’d get all worked up over it and assume the worst, but I didn’t.

I still feel, though, almost like I’ve got to be this whole different person, with a whole different set of beliefs and attitudes in order for us to have a chance at achieving our dreams. I just wish I had his attitudes, beliefs, and way of thinking. I wish I wouldn’t feel like I was gonna freak out and like it was the end of the world every other day. He says he understands, though, and is trying to make this a good week. I want it to be. I want us to be as happy as we can as often as we can. I don’t want to keep feeling like our sex lives, sex parts or reproduction parts are hexed, and that God hates me. I think Tom knows that even if said every day that I wanted to use rubbers, no matter what mood I was in, I don’t really want to do that anymore than I want to be a lawyer. I said that, though, out of fear and panic. I felt that if I didn’t, God would do something else to me or us that could be much worse than before. Tom says, though, we don’t have to use rubbers. I think he knows, too, that no matter what I say, I do want a kid, I think he does, too (more than I realize at times) and I think we both also know, that we wouldn’t quit on the kid or stall on taking care of it, just cuz I may stall on exercising and he may stall on the back room, yard or whatever. I think we both know that the more something’s important, the more we have to deal with it and keep up on it. I know, for example, that he’d never stall on getting my meds, just cuz he felt like watching TV or playing on the computer. If we put off stuff like that, then we could worry about ourselves.

I just hope from now on that I won’t get these paranoid feelings about Tom or God and that they’ll lessen, but I know I can talk to Tom as soon as they come on. And better yet I hope that our sex lives will increase in both frequency and juice volume and even better yet, I hope it produces a kid. I have my fears about a kid. We all do, and mine are just as normal as anyone else’s. However, I still want it and I still think that while it may ruin most couples, it’ll help Tom and I both together and as individuals probably more than we ever thought. I don’t know how I’d get on schedule, but if Tom says I will, I have to try to give him the benefit of the doubt, cuz he’s been right before on things I doubted would or could work out.

I also hope that I can adopt more of a wait-and-see-what-really-happens attitude. Maybe if I remind myself more often of how I swore I’d never get out here, get married, or that he’d cum, it’ll help wean me over to a maybe I can get pregnant after all kind of attitude. I hope so, but I hope even more so that it happens, cuz then I’d have no choice but to believe it. Then I could move on to fearing a miscarriage, but at least I’ll have moved on and at least I’ll be pregnant and know I can conceive.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 1, 1996 I finally got the 21 puzzle books I ordered a long time ago. Great deal for only $14. I went through them all and picked out the ones I don’t want for Ma. Also, there’s an all-number-find one I’m gonna give me and a soap opera one for Andy.

I’m gonna have a lot of stuff for Andy. When I see him soon, I’ll give him a show I taped for him and my nearly 30 NPNs to mail out. I’ll show him new journals and mugs, as well as Bunny, of course. I’ll show him the upside-down mug, too. For his birthday, I’ll give him all that Halloween stuff from my folks, the soap puzzle book, and the journal.

I took down my “self-improvement” list from the bathroom. I don’t want Andy to see it and I have it in my journal, anyway.

Got most of the laundry done and the grocery list made up. Now I’ll back up to yesterday morning.

Tom got up at 6:30 and didn’t touch me, as I figured. Before he went to bed at 9:00 last night, he did say something about how he wanted to catch up on his sleep, but we’ll see, like I said, how serious he is about that and what he has in mind.

I was very tired but managed to drag my ass outa here, nonetheless. We went to see Carol and Steven before they left for California. I’m glad I got to see them. Matthew’s really grown since I last saw him. It was nice to see Ma, too.

We also stopped at an auto parts store, cuz Tom needed something for the car.

We agreed I’d get two journals and a kitty mug for now, but we didn’t go to any bookstores yet. We did go to Pet Smart and I got my first mug with a puppy and a kitty on it. It’s really cute and has lots of detail in it, too. They’re sitting in a wicker basket with a blue/white checkered cloth. There are also green and red apples with jars of jam. It’s taken against a window, so you can see the trees in the background just outside the window. The only thing about it that’s not too cool is the way it’s centered. The dog and cat are in the middle of the mug, more or less, so when you’re holding it, you see a part of the basket and mainly the fruits.

Tom brought up examples of what he calls cranky. Well, Lisa called and wanted to sing me a song. She does sing better than most people. Especially for her age, but hit a lot of notes off-key, to my surprise. I told Tom this. Then I asked him why a certain picture on the computer of Gloria seemed long. He calls this cranky? How can expressing an opinion and asking a question be called cranky? He says it’s in the tone of voice. Well, then I guess every word I say must sound cranky to him, cuz I talk louder and more aggressively than some people. Especially him. So, that’s when I broke down and asked him why his story about the job changed since we were on the subject of explaining things to each other so we could better understand each other. I forgot what he said about it, but it did make perfect sense. Something about the job becoming more spontaneous to him so we’d spontaneously have sex more often and, therefore, not have to worry about hitting it right. I asked him if wanted to pick up on the job again, or just have sex whenever, and he said it was too complex of an issue to get into at that time. Personally, I’m still sick of the whole thing and I don’t care what we do or what happens. I just want to get on with life and get out of past ruts that are too old and that have bad emotions that go with them.

Later…

It’s been nice and quiet around here, except for the constant intrusion of those two dogs.

Tom’s gone now to drive his mom to church, then to go to the racetrack.

We screwed earlier, but he didn’t get off. Remember, he believes I can get pregnant, so maybe my approaching this time frame either consciously or subconsciously got him a bit nervous. Tomorrow will begin his 5-day test to see if he’s more serious than I thought, or does appear to be stalling. My guess is there’ll be a 50/50 chance we’ll screw over the next 5 days and a 0% chance he’ll cum over the next 5 days. What a wonderful birthday gift it’d be if he came on my birthday! I know better, though, cuz I want him to bad enough. If he did, though, that’d mean entering that final phase. He’d deny it, though, and say we just didn’t hit it right. Or maybe I’d have another two weeks of spots. I wish so bad that he’d cum on the 3rd, 4th & 5th! He could never cum 3 days in a row, though. He can’t even do it two days in a row. It seems he only does it once every two weeks. He did mention something about going to bed fairly early, but I don’t know. I still say he’s gonna be hurting and awfully tired starting tomorrow. Having sex on Tuesdays is out of the question, though, cuz that’s the day he gets up really early and works long hours.

[anokaiwritingblog]

A Villainess's Mutiny- Prologue

A/N: I posted my project a long time ago. I decided to post my prologue here to show what I've been working on privately on the side. Idk, I just feel like sharing.

Prologue

Every story has a beginning.

Some stories start traditionally. That key event that kicked off everything in motion or the hero’s humble beginnings. Sometimes they start in the middle, at the heart of all the action or close to the climax… medias res as those snobbish literature majors like to state. Flexing their knowledge on a vocabulary word that everyone knew if they ever took eighth grade English. Other times, they start with the end, flashing a conclusion to make the readers wonder “how did this happen?” Slow burn. Fast-paced. Shocking. Humorous. Beginnings come in a million different shapes and flavors.

Mia’s story started with her body getting crushed in a metal death trap by an oncoming Freightliner when her friend thought she could beat the red light.

Okay.

So, this might sound bad but depending on how Mia looked at things, this event could be her beginning, middle, or end. This could be the start of a compelling story about how the heroine managed to overcome her disadvantages to lead a fulfilling life. Perhaps this was the climax where Mia “learned about the beauty of life” and turn a new leaf. As for the end… she didn’t even want to humor the thought. With all these possible paths opened before Mia (thanks to her misfortunate accident) why the hell was the triggering event just so happened to be the most overly dramatic, cliched opener ever?

Thinking back on it, Mia wondered how this all even came to be and how she ended up watching her inevitable death inched towards in her slow motion while her oblivious friends horribly sang Bad Guy by Billie Eilish that played over the radio. Mia couldn’t even scream a warning before the two vehicles collided. The resounding impact caused Mia's ears to pop; making all the following sounds of girls screaming, the breaking of glass, and the tires screeching as her friend’s 1996 Toyota Corolla spinning out of control all the more real. Each time Mia blinked, she saw a new angle of the four-way intersection they were just passing.

First blink. She saw the stoplight.

Second blink. She saw the other side of the intersection.

Third blink. She noticed how close the dashboard was.

 There was no fourth blink as her head crashed forward on the front dash of the car.

Just like that, a young life was snuffed out. The smoke rising from this unlit candle escaping through unseen gaps of reality, only to be captured and bottled. When Mia’s eyes closed for one last time, they opened for the first time once again.

People wondered what happens once you die, which religion got it correct? But Mia here got to experience it for herself. Opening her eyes, she expected the void, yet she found herself in some sort of limbo. It was blindingly bright. Her brain couldn’t process what she was seeing. It wasn’t fathomless darkness but inescapable light. Despite the overwhelming visuals that she couldn’t comprehend, Mia wasn’t alone.

A leap of logic that assertion was, even by Mia’s eccentric standards. There was only herself and the white void. No evidence would suggest that someone was keeping her “company”. Yet Mia can’t shake off the distinct feeling that she wasn’t alone. Call it her sixth sense or a woman’s intuition, but Mia had the feeling that she was being held in place by a sentient, unseen force. She looked around for what it was that made her feel uneasy.

Was this heaven, purgatory, or nothingness? There was too much to grapple with. Her death, afterlife, her friends’ well-being, and the suffocating feeling of being watched. No one would blame Mia if she broke down under the weight of problems on her shoulders, but she rejected such unfiltered emotions to overwhelm her and ultimately decided to categorize them in levels of importance to deal with. Her death was the last on that list as that was an unhelpful pandora’s box to unpack. If this was eternity, then Mia had eternity to accept her death.

This pushed the mysterious presence that refused to leave her alone was at the top of her to-do list.

Mia looked around for this… thing. Angel, demon, devil, or God… Mia refused to let it escape her perception. But it didn’t seem like the mystery of the universe intended for it to be discovered as an echoing voice spoke up. “Oh! Are you ready? Just give me a moment to move things around for you,” the disembodied voice said. It was a soft, masculine tone but Mia had a sinking suspicion that the person speaking to her wasn’t the same being that was watching over her. It was gone now, much to her annoyance but at least now she can have some answers.

As the light receded away, the place Mia found herself in wasn’t pearly gates with clouds as flooring nor was there brimstone and fires. Instead, it was a remarkably bland home office. Not just any home office but white suburbia architecture with beige walls, cheap beige carpeting, and a mixture of artificial wooden furniture from Ikea and Staples. Leaning her back just a little, Mia could spot the signature copy and paste housing you would see in any gated community between horizontal blinds. It didn’t look like hell, but it sure felt like it if Mia was forced to encounter the (one of many) things she hated the most: entitled rich folks.

            Sitting behind a desk was an older man who was no doubt pushing past late fifties judging by his sagging face and salt-and-pepper colored hair. He sat awkwardly with his head propped up straight up with his mouth partly slacked open while holding his reading glasses up on his nose. Mia couldn’t help but think he looked like every aged father when looking at something presented to them on a phone. Even though Mia was in the room with the man, he didn’t look at her no matter how much she waved her hand at him. For some odd reason, he stared at the computer screen instead.

There were several strange machines hooked up to the computer he was looking at. Mia couldn’t put an exact term for each device, but she could tell one was meant to be a motor, another was a miniature data bank, a camera of some kind, and some strange whirling attachment. It was weird, but considering that she just died, Mia decided not to question what she was seeing.

“There you are! You calmed down a lot sooner than I expected. The other souls tend to be more erratic when we first unzip them. You know what it’s like… traumatic deaths and missing loved ones. Et cetera, et cetera,” the man said while waving his hands around in an animated motion as he spoke to the web camera above the PC. There was nothing hostile about his body language; he came off friendly or homely.

If Mia was the ‘emotional hot-headed’ sort, she could have been easily offended by how he nonchalantly spoke about death to a deceased soul like her. But she felt eerily calm as her prerogative was survival and not pride. “I usually just keep them in quarantine until they’re a little calmer to modify their file. So, I was so surprised when Ouroboros alerted me that you’re ready for extraction!” he continued, “I nearly dropped my daughter’s birthday cake! I just had to interview you personally— Oh look at me. I’m rambling. How are you? Do you speak hu-man?”

Mia stared at the man in disbelief. How can he be brazenly offensive without realizing it? For a moment, Mia really wanted to believe that this was some sort of fever dream. That she was in a coma or having an extravagant prank being pulled on her. But the fact that she could think critically with a clear head only grounded her in this new reality. “Okay, Mia. This is really happening. I died and it turns out the afterlife involves the suburbs and something to do with a computer,” she thought. Mia set her skepticism on the side, letting the cosmos take the wheel and follow this strange path laid before her to see where it went. Everything will be revealed in due time if she allowed it to.

Hopefully.

The man impatiently waved his hand before the webcam, as if to catch Mia’s attention even though she was standing on his right. She considered not answering him but considering how this guy treated souls like computer files, she quickly spoke up before her soul got tossed in the trash bin. “Um. Yeah, yeah. I can speak… human? I’m just overwhelmed. Confused. In disbelief. Et cetera, et cetera,” Mia said, “As you put it.”

“Great! You can talk loud and clear too! Wow, this is amazing. All the other souls were too stressed out to run on their own without fixing their properties. If my wife was still alive, she would have been fascinated by you,” the man said. Mia snapped her fingers to see if it will catch his attention to turn towards her, but he didn’t seem to register it.

“Right. So, mister…?” Mia asked, trailing off for him to pick up. She moved her hand in front of his face but got no response. Yup. She was definitely a spirit alright.

“You can call me Mr. Mitchell.”

“Ooookay. So, Mr. Mitchell. Lots of questions, as you’re aware. But I gotta ask, you can’t see me at all. Right? Because I’m in this computer —­ yet somehow, I can see you and your entire office. Like… I’m in the room. Right now,” Mia said. It seemed to be counter-intuitive to give this knowledge to Mr. Mitchell if she wanted to gain an upper hand but knowing more about her incorporeal body was going to be important.

She attempted to place her hand on the computer, but her hand went straight through. “Ah! Ah! Ah! What the fuck?!” Mia thought, pulling her hand back quickly. Her hand felt like fuzz and static when it briefly went through. She was worried that she would lose her ghost hand, but it came out unscathed. Mia inspected her hand for any signs of damage but found none. She could wiggle her fingers and ball her hand into a fist like nothing happen. “What was that?” she thought.

Raising his hand, Mr. Mitchell smacked the side of the monitor mutter about ‘glitches’ under his breath. Mia was startled by the sudden violent action from the seemingly amiable man though, she quickly settled as his reaction was telling. She was a ghost/computer file, but it seemed like she was capable of affecting the real world. It got the gears turning in her head but what she could do was yet to be seen. For now, Mia was focused on squeezing out as much information from this bumbling fool while pretending to be a lost and naïve soul. An act Mia didn’t have to work much for as Mr. Mitchell didn’t think of her highly, based on how he addressed her.

Mr. Mitchell’s eyebrows were burrowed as he attempted to figure out what caused the issue, but they soon raised up to his warm facial expression once again. “What was it you asked again? Ah, right! About the room!” he said, recognition flashing in his eyes as he remembered the question asked. He leaned back on his chair as he looked around the room. He seemed to be both searching and not searching for where Mia was possibly standing. “You’re able to see this place, eh? I have a possible theory as to what you’re seeing,” he said, “Before my wife passed away, she did a scan of her office. I think she wanted it to be a central hub, but things didn’t fall through since you ‘soul files’ weren’t able to properly manifest.” Mr. Mitchell rubbed his chin between his index and thumb as he held a thoughtful look in his eyes. Mia was worried for a moment that he picked up on the fact that he spilled sensitive information to her and was overall unprofessional about the whole thing but as the dumb look returned to his face, Mia knew that she was in the clear.

“Ouroboros must have turned on the hub function for some reason, that rascal. But seeing how you’re fine— as in, very lively for a dead person, this arrangement should be okay,” Mr. Mitchell said, “My wife scolded me in taking spirits for granted but you guys are dead! Not like you could do something in the real world. And I trust Ouroboros to prevent anything risky.

“Um well…” Mia thought, finding it laughable that he wasn’t a little wary of the uncommon happening. Or at least wary of a stranger. Mr. Mitchell’s naivety was far too convenient for her. It made Mia doubt that Mr. Mitchell was telling the truth but a part of her really believed that he was that simple-minded. Plenty of people were and she knew to keep her expectations low. “You keep on mentioning your wife and this ‘Ouroboros’. Is it— I don’t know… something to do with your “PC of the Dead” here?” Mia said, taking control of the conversation in the direction she desired. It was time to finally get some answer.

Mr. Mitchell's expression turned serious at her question. Worry began building inside of Mia as she thought surely this was the question that would catch Mr. Mitchell’s attention that something wasn’t right. He leaned forward to the computer; an action that cause alarm to Mia as she knew that her soul could easily be tossed into the recycle bin. But that concern was quickly deflated as he sternly said, “Please don’t make fun of my wife’s work. She devoted a lot of time and effort to this.”

Really?! That was what he was focused on?!

Mia knew how to remedy this to keep Mr. Mitchell’s lips flapping. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to take this work lightly. I was simply… um, amazed! Yeah, that’s it. I was amazed by whatever this is. No words come to mind,” she said. She was glad that she was invisible, it only meant that Mr. Mitchell couldn’t catch her silently laughing from the side. Her shallow praise worked as Mr. Mitchell visibly relaxed and leaned back on his computer chair.

“Yes. You’re right. Sorry for being defensive. This was the only thing she left us before passing away,” he said, “It’s difficult to explain. But you know about that theory where we don’t know if our perceived reality is a simulation, yes?”

Mia nodded her head to answer though she was quick to recall he couldn’t see her. “Yes. The Simulation Theory,” she responded to him.

“Well. This invention isn’t quite like that.”

“Then why the hell did you bring it up?” Mia thought but decided to keep that to herself. She didn’t want to suddenly lash out in the middle of an exposition.

“Okay, that’s a bit misleading as it’s technically applicable right now. You see, my wife’s original goal was to bring to life a functioning and realistic simulation using AI so we can simulate events for, well, anything!” he explained, “But she found that the line between reality and a simulation was extremely thin before accidentally breaking a wall between the two. And because of that crack, things tend to slip through.”

“Okay. I’m getting confused by the genre. Is this sci-fi, fantasy, or supernatural?” Mia thought with some dry humor.

“It’s not common for things to slip out but it’s common for things to slip in. Most importantly, “souls” that aren’t bound to their reality,” he said, “To keep control of this space and plug the hole, my wife programmed this AI called Ouroboros. As it’s the first thing created in this cyberspace— it is effectively God in there. But out here, we’re its god. With Ouroboros, we can use these people to create these simulations since the thing that these simulations lacked was the human factor.”

“Wow, that is setting yourself up for disaster,” Mia thought.

“Unfortunately, my wife passed away before completion. I didn’t know much about her work and being left with a six-year-old daughter, all I knew was that this thing can talk with dead people,” Mr. Mitchell said. He affectionately patted the computer. “Booted it up, I tried looking for my wife. But Ouroboros contacted me instead. It taught me how to use it and how we aren’t restricted by realistic laws in what is simulated. Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to talk to my wife,” he said. There was a long pause from him before continuing his story with a lighter tone. “I’m a bit of an author, you know. So, I decided to use this, thing to simulate my stories. See if it’ll catch something I didn’t see,” he continued, “I found it hard to make my characters life-like. So, using real people to simulate my scenario was eye-opening. But most importantly, using this made me feel a lot closer to my wife.”

Mia would point out the ethical question in doing such a thing but thought better of it. He was the man who was her executioner if she slipped up just once.  It’s better to let him monologue. “Later, I found out that my wife was working for a way for us to enter the simulation without, you know…dying. Her colleague finished it and left it with us,” he said. Mia noticed that Mr. Mitchell lied for once. It was an obvious nervous tick where he pulled on his loose cashmere sweater’s collar as if it were tight. It might be a fluke but considering how he mostly kept his hands on the keyboard and mouse, it was an action that caught Mia’s eye. “My daughter had a hard time without her mother. Hard time making friends. Hard time with everything,” he said, “I am too old to use it, so I allowed her to go in and play. Then as she got older, she showed that spark of a writer. Stories about knights and fallen gods. A haunted mansion and more.”

“Sounds like cliched pieces of shit,” Mia thought.

“Her and Ouroboros got along well, at first. But suddenly Ouroboros went silent. God knows what that thing is thinking,” he said, “It still listens to us but doesn’t talk anymore. But I know it’s there somewhere.”

Looking at the computer, Mia considered the possibility of the presence she encountered to be this AI that Mr. Mitchell was referring to. She was about 99% certain that it was it but there was always wiggle room for doubt. Regardless, she got the answer of how this was all possible but now she needed to know why she was here. The question hung in her mouth, but Mr. Mitchell needed no prompting from her to reveal the information. “Today is her 21st birthday and I decided to let my daughter take over Ouroboros and become the sole admin. She has this huge story planned with all the souls but were missing one,” Mr. Mitchell said, “We’re missing a villain.”

Mia nearly laughed at the dramatic reveal. They need a villain?! God, someone has been reading way too many otome villain isekai mangas. She hoped it was a joke, but Mr. Mitchell had been honest for almost the entire talk so far. “You’re the best candidate so far. Score fairly high on the dark triads but not too high. Around the same age as my daughter and, well, a girl!” Mr. Mitchell said, “We have to be very picky about the type of dark souls we let in. Let in one serial killer and we have a disaster going on. The last villain we had was pretty solid. But her file ended up corrupted after dying too many times.”

“I’m so flatter,” Mia said. Sarcasm dripped in every word, but the airheaded father didn’t seem to notice.

“I know. That’s why I must interview you. I want to make sure her special day is perfect,” he said. Mia watched Mr. Mitchell move the mouse and click around the screen. “Numbers on a screen don’t tell a lot about a soul. So, tell me about yourself,” he asked.

“Oh, I’m no one special. I enjoy long walks on the beach, kicking puppies, and stealing candy from children,” Mia said before she shook her head. She got the answer she desired and didn’t have the need to humor him anymore. There was something else she wanted from him now but she needed to wait for the proper moment to bring it up.

Mr. Mitchell picked up quickly that she wasn’t being truthful (obviously) as she can see him looking back and forth between her unseen file and the webcam. “Wait a minute… you’re answer doesn’t match the file!” he said. Mia rolled her eyes as if to silently say ‘go figure’ to this unaware audience member. If he could verify her information, Mia was baffled as to why he was interviewing her?  Curious, she moved to stand behind Mr. Mitchell and study what was on the screen.

It was a file of her which came to no surprise but from one quick look, it was incomplete. There was a download bar as new information about her came up every minute but there was still an invasive amount of information about her. There was some of the basic stuff about her such as her birthday and height. The file even included questionable factual information such as her zodiac sign, Myer-Briggs type, and even what Hogwarts house she belongs to? What does that have to do with anything? It even conveniently had a set of photos of her but unfortunately, it captured every flattering and unflattering angle. Hell, she doesn’t remember taking any of these photos! It had to be current as well since she recently cut her hair and she had yet to take a picture of it yet. Based on the lighting on her dark brown hair and the confused look in her brown eyes, Mia suspected it was taken when she was in that white limbo.

Leaning forward, Mia noticed an odd shape can be seen on her glasses. A reflection of someone. She could just barely make out that it was a person but her attention was soon broken when Mr. Mitchell suddenly moved and phased right through her. Startled, Mia jumped back and inspected her body. It was fine but, unfortunately, Mr. Mitchell scrolled the page onto something else. The opportunity to inspect was now lost.

Bummed out on the lost chance, Mia was even more reluctant in answering Mr. Mitchell’s bizarre and useless questions. “Okay, then answer me yes or no. Your full name is Mia… Hashimoto? Is that correct?” he asked.

“Yes. My father was Japanese, and my mother was Mexican.”

“A bit surprising there. You wouldn’t tell from how you look— your eyes are quite wide.”

“Highly racist comment but go off, I guess.”

Mia watched as Mr. Mitchell fumbled from her comment. He attempted to sputter out a mixture of ‘It’s not racist’ and ‘I’m sorry’. She hoped that the shame was enough to back his verbal inquires but it seemed she underestimated his audacity. “And you’re 21, as well?”

“I guess.”

“I see you were a computer science major but switched to film last minute. You also dabbled in your minors in criminology or psychology. Why is that?”

“I’m just bored.”

“Uh, I see. You worked at a movie theater. Did you learn anything there?”

“These aren’t yes or no questions, Mr. Mitchell. If anything, these are the wrong questions to ask. We both know you have these answers on your computer.”

Mia came into this conversation with a business exchange in mind. Mr. Mitchell won’t get anything while Mia walked away with everything. She intended to test the man now and see how many buttons she could push. As dense as he was, he was quick to anger if not obeyed as he slammed his hand on the desk. “Stop playing around. This is very important for my daughter,” he said, “I’ll delete you and your soul will be forever gone.”

Ah, the ultimatum scare. Just what Mia was waiting for. She got her information and now it was time to strike a deal. Mia wasn’t sure if she had anything to leverage until Mr. Mitchell talked about her being the perfect soul for a certain role. Might as well use it. “Go ahead. Delete me. I’m already dead. What are you going to do? Make me extra dead?” she taunted. Mia very much did not want to die. Again. A bluff like this seemed incredibly stupid, even for an overly cautious person like her. But despite all the logic and reason she liked tossed around, doing something risky was the “human factor” he mentioned.

Mr. Mitchell considered the threat carefully, not saying anything as his mouse tightly clutch the mouse. Finally, he relented and turn his head away from the webcam. “Let’s make a deal. I don’t want my little girl to miss out on celebrating a perfect birthday,” he said. Mia did a small victory dance. Man, she should take advantage of more loving fathers more often!

“First, tell me what happened with my friends,” Mia asked.

“What—? I can’t… hold on. Let me ask Ouroboros,” Mr. Mitchell said. The sound of typing filled the silence between the two of them. It felt like five minutes passed before Mr. Mitchell answered Mia’s question. “They’re alive. Mostly. One is in a coma, two are in critical condition and the other one got away with some light injuries. A miracle,” he said. Mia covered her mouth to hide her relief but also her grief. They’re alive but no one was in a good condition. No doubt the one who survived was facing some massive survivor’s guilt. What Mia would give to be there to comfort her and be by their bedsides. The only silver lining was that it was only her who died.

Despite not letting a single sound escape, Mia’s silence gave Mr. Mitchell a foothold to gain control of the conversation. “Let’s make this the deal. If you survive my daughter’s story, then I’ll return you to your world. As if you never died in that car accident,” Mr. Mitchell offered. Mia looked to see he was lying but he didn’t tug on his shirt.

“Is it… really possible for you to return me home?” Mia asked cautiously. Something felt off about how readily Mr. Mitchell gave her the opportunity to escape. There was always a catch in these types of situations.

“Of course. Let me ask Ouroboros to send you back… hmm, one minute before your death,” Mr. Mitchell said. He adjusted his chair before the computer and type something that Mia couldn’t see. She attempted to take a peak but was overwhelmed by a sudden dizzy spell. She snapped an arm out for something to hold on to but found herself sitting down.

Snapping out of it, Mia looked around in a panicked craze to figure out what happened now. The busy city streets zoom past her as Billie just reached the chorus. One of her friends in the back attempted to hit a low note but only let out an unsatisfactory grunt. She was back… back in her homeworld. Kicking into action, Mia turned to the driver— a Korean girl who could have been mistaken as Mia’s sister with her brown hair and circular glass. She was distracted by singing along with the group and didn’t notice Mia’s stare. Grabbing the girl’s arm, Mia drew her attention before hissing out, “Minnie! Stop the car right now!”

It was too late.

A minute was not enough time to pull off to the side to avoid the accident. Just like before, a truck crashed into the car and caused it to topple over. In a blink, Mia found herself back in Mr. Mitchell’s office on her hands and knees, shaking and breathing heavily. The paralyzing fear of dying struck her all over again though she recovered from the shock of it just as fast as the first time. Looking back up to the older man who was contently waiting behind the screen, Mia cleared her throat to catch his attention.

“I… I believe you. And all I need to do is play a role in your daughter’s story, right?” Mia said. She was still a little breathless from the experience, but she pushed herself from the floor. She rubbed her head as she stood next to Mr. Mitchell, her forehead throbbing with phantom pains from the accident.

“Yes. That’s all you need to do,” he said, nodding his head.

Mia still felt that something was off even after being shown the evidence. An icky feeling of doubt welled up inside of her but wasn’t this what she intended? “And there’s no catch. Nothing else to this deal,” she asked, having her doubts.

“It’s entirely a fair deal.”

There it was. Mr. Mitchell tugged on his shirt just then.

A lie! This wasn’t a fair deal, but she couldn’t figure out what’s about the deal was wrong. Was it the wording of the deal, the requirement, the reward, the lack of repercussion? More importantly, why does Mr. Mitchell need her consent to participate? This entire process seemed unnecessary to someone who can treat her soul like a file. Too many questions yet she doubted Mr. Mitchell would answer them now. It was a risky play, but Mia couldn’t imagine asking for more or how to re-phrase the deal. With her current situation, she couldn’t demand more even if she wanted to. This was the deal she desired, and if he didn’t intend to play fair then—

“DAD. THE CAKE IS BURNING.”

“Coming, Lily! I’ll be right there!”

Standing up, Mr. Mitchell darted for the door. He pointed to the computer to silently say ‘stay right there’ before leaving Mia alone in the room. As if she could go anywhere else, hah. But this was a fortunate chance to appear. Mia was this close to accepting Mr. Mitchell’s proposition without any tricks up her sleeves. Recalling how she affected the computer, Mia decided to place all her marbles in this one basket to see if she could gain admin rights. The system currently must be vulnerable if there was going to be a trade of hands.

Moving in front of the computer, Mia inserted her right hand then her left hand to shake things up. It was just as weird as the first time but as she submerged herself into the feeling, the sight of codes filled her vision. It was complex to read but given the chance, she could possibly decode it to see what Mr. Mitchell’s wife created. But that was far too time-consuming for what Mia needed at the moment. Pulling up a command prompt, she was quickly greeted with a password to type in. Password? That was easy. What loving parent doesn’t set up their child’s birthday as their password. Coming back to reality, Mia looked for a calendar.

Pinned to the wall way a hanging cats’ calendar with the date ‘May 14’ circled with a picture of a birthday cake. There it was. Putting it in, Mia now had access to making her own account. Copying and pasting her folder into the information request, Mia was nearly sucked into the computer by this action. As if the process was eating her soul and there was nothing, she could do about it.

Elbow deep. Arm deep. Shoulder deep. And finally, head deep.

Mia desperately attempted to pull herself back before it was too late. With a heave, Mia finally freed herself and fell backward onto the floor, falling straight through the computer chair. She let out a groan as her mind spun in circles with visions of numbers swirling. “Ugh, I think I’m going to be sick,” she said, covering her mouth. Taking several breaths, she took a moment to compose herself as she watched the PC go on the fritz. The screen flickered as it seemed to be processing her data as a viable user but the fact that she was a soul and not alive probably overwhelmed the purpose of the system. For a moment, the image of a snake eating its tail was on the screen before it blacked out.

“Oh shit! Am I going to die-die now?!” Mia thought. Scrambling to her feet, she patted her body to see if she was fading or turning into particles. From what was told, she assumed the PC was her lifeline but it became apparent that she wasn’t going anywhere. It seemed like it worked? The PC suddenly blinked back to life and back to the home screen as if nothing happened. Waving her hand through it once more, the PC signaled that it recognized her as a user before going back.

It worked.

IT WORKED. WOOH! FUCK YEAH!

Jumping up and down, Mia was far too consumed by her victory that she ended up letting out a startled scream when Mr. Mitchell entered the room again. He looked around confused as to where the strange sound came from. Once again, the blessing of invisibility saved Mia once again. “Did you decide on your answer?” he asked, pulling out the chair so he could sit.

If he asked that before, Mia wouldn’t feel confident in agreeing though, she would ultimately be forced to do so. But now that she had control within the system, she was confident in winning now. Hell, she doesn’t even need this stupid deal if she can just control Ouroboros. All she needed to do now was to lower Mr. Mitchell’s guard.

“Of course. What’re the rules?”

[creativeashproductions]

What If...? II // Alive!Luke Patterson

Summary: After playing The Orpheum things were looking up, Sunset Curve bought the house that owned the studio the band used. Alex lived in a safe environment will only love, Reggie didn’t feel like a ghost in his house and Luke was no longer sleeping on a couch. Life is good until it isn’t.

Warnings: Swearing, accident, injuries, angst, car accident (this was written before If I Stay)

Words: 2.7k

Requested: By @beautifulblogsblog . There will be more parts, total coincidence that it has a car accident. Also appears when I try solely fluff it turns into painful angst. My apologies, the next part will be better but also prepare for it too.

A/N: Sorry for disappearing. I have Lost Time Part 2 finished, If I Stay Part 2 is also finished but I really want to put a new part out for What If...? so here you go!

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Hollywood, 1996

A hot cup of your morning brew cradled in your hand you stared out the window to the garage where Sunset Curve had practiced for years. A year had passed since The Orpheum; the band got signed to a label with an EP being dropped. The moment money came to the band Luke, Alex and Reggie had pooled money to buy the house the garage belonged to. You just happened to be over a lot still being seventeen.

“Hey,” Luke spoke, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his body tight against yours. His chin resting on your shoulder as his hand swiped the mug to take a swig from it.

“Hey!”

“Don’t sound so offended.” Luke chuckled, “I’ve tasted other things that belong to you.”

“Disgusting.” Alex gagged walking by the couple with distaste written clearly all over his face. He adored you two together, but he didn’t like the activities that you frequently did behind closed doors.

“Yeah, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t play wrestle in the middle of the night.” Reggie scoffed heading up the stairs to his room while Alex blinked after him.

“I- and he wonders why he’s still single.” Alex sighed, heading to the living room to watch a film whereas Bobby was grabbing a quick drink before leaving. The only member of the band that didn’t live in the house but then again, he didn’t have issues with his parents; well if he did, he never told anyone else.

A snicker fell from your lips as a deep chuckled vibrated through the body courtesy of Luke’s close quarters with you. His arms tightened when you shifted in his arms, glancing at his watch before you pushed the mug back into his hand.

“Gotta go.” You sighed, pressing a kiss to Luke’s cheek and freeing yourself from his warm embrace to nab the bag from the chair. Luke released a whine detesting the emptiness in his arms, “As much as I would have to stay and cuddle all day, I have plans.”

Luke released a long sigh with a nod glancing as Bobby’s gaze fixated your form heading for the front door. He snapped out of it when Luke hit his chest.

“C’mon man! That’s my girl.” Luke scoffed, making his way for the stairs, “Go, home, dude.”

Bobby did as he was told glancing up at the ceiling where each boy would be in their bedrooms until practice later that night. Bobby couldn’t help that he found you attractive, but he would never step over the line with his bandmate. You were already gone when Bobby got outside and the harsh glare on the back of his head from Luke.

Lance had picked up his daughter itching to play you the bones of the new song he had recorded with the band. It was by far his favourite one given that it was centered on you growing up which he both hated and loved. He had missed more of your life than he cared to admit so it is the last year before you would leave the house, he had taken a break from touring.

“It’s not fully finished. The working title is Bittersweet.” Your father spoke glancing over, “It’s slower than our usual song, but I have ideas.”

“What was the inspiration?” You questioned leaning your head back to glance over at him. A small smile tugged at the rock star in the driver’s seat.

“Almost twenty-years ago a struggling musician snuck into a concert he couldn’t afford. A struck of luck had a pretty ballet dancer attending too. It was an odd love story, and that musician had a double miracle. Eighteen years ago, he met the second love of his life.” Lance had a way with words that entranced anyone, whether it be musically or not.

“That musician was you.” You took a guess that ended up being right when Lance nodded, “Dad.”

“I was hoping you would harmonize on it with me? My sound guy is incorporating your voice as a baby, and in the ending, I want you to say something.”

A bright smile turned the corners of your mouth up while silent tears rolled down your cheeks at the idea he had. At that moment, you also decided to keep the collaboration and song a secret from your boyfriend and friends.

“I’d love to.” You spoke swiftly hugging his arm before he was shoving you back to your seat and his arm slung in front of you.

A blindly light made its presence known for a second before a loud crack shattered around you and your body was slammed the dash—a scream coming from your father before everything went quiet. You prone form slumped onto the crushed door unaware of the cries taking place outside the car.

Lance moaned fluttering his eyelids as consciousness brought him into the world again. His brain struggling to make sense of why the car was on its side. It connected when his first thought was his daughter.

“Sweetheart.” Lance’s tongue caught the copper taste in his mouth, but it was the petrifying taste fear that lingered as he received no response.

Straining his neck, he could see now you were laying against the crushed passenger door of the car; the car on its side with Lance strapped to the seat. A sharp cry released as he caught the blood coating the profile of his little girl. A haunting sound of Bittersweet filled the car among Lance’s sobs.

In the home of Sunset Curve, it was notoriously known that the only channel on TV was MTV, never the news. As usual, the guys were fighting over what kind of pizzas, they should order unaware of the countless news reports on a car crash. It wouldn’t be under hours later that they found out.

“Guys!” Alex’s head snapped up as Bobby struggled to breathe in the entrance of the kitchen, leaving the front door wide open.

“Mushrooms Bobby?” Reggie inquired oblivious to the tension radiating off the rhythm guitarist. Bobby had enough sweat it was like they had just finished a fifteen song setlist under boiling lights.

“Have you guys seen MTV?” Bobby demanded gaining the attention of his three bandmates as looking lost at the uncharacteristic anxious boy.

“Is our song playing?” Luke spoke, leaning over the island with a grin. His messy hair almost covering his hazel eyes.

Bobby didn’t reply other than to rush over to the tv to get to MTV. Instead of music blasting the house, a somber person was sitting on a chair.

“The musical world is struggling as the world waits for news on musician Lancaster Jameson following a car accident early this afternoon. Little news has been released on the circumstances leading to the crash on the occupants with both vehicles.” The man spoke sitting on a stool behind a makeshift desk.

Luke’s heart dropped at the words that rocked him to the core. His body working on autopilot was already moving to the door, he needed to be there for you. You must be terrified for your father. Luke had to be there for you. He just didn’t know you were in the car as well.

“An emergency response official revealed, however, that as they used the jaws of life, a song was still playing. A song very unlike anything Lancaster’s band has released before.”

A taxi, courtesy of Alex, pulled up beside the lead singer with his friend helping him into the backseat before joining him as well. Little did they know about the scene at the hospital.

Your mother, Nancy, sat silently ripping apart a Kleenex a nurse had graciously given the woman as she waited with bated breath. Her pallor pale and gaunt under the harsh hospital lights where she waited to hear the news for her family. Her tears began to fall as Luke, and his bandmate appeared in the ER.

“Mrs. Y/L/N.” Alex spoke, heading straight for the woman pushing the fears and anxious feelings to be dealt with at another time.

The woman couldn’t look Luke in the eye, knowing that the media had been issued legal documents to ensure you were kept out of the news. The lawyers had swiftly jumped on that part of the accident while your mother worried herself with the what-ifs swirling in her head.

“Luke.” She breathed, leaning to pull the teenager into a hug, “I’m sorry I couldn’t call.”

“I understand. You need to focus on Lance.” Luke supplied, stepping back to look around the room for you. His brows furrowed at the lack of evidence you were there, “Where’s Y/N?”

Nancy’s eyes watered further at the mention of her daughter still in surgery looking over to Alex, who collapsed into the chair understanding the look. Luke didn’t see it.

“I suppose the lawyers did an excellent job.” Nancy sighed, digging deep inside herself to lead the teenage boy to the chairs be had settled into, “I’m very sorry, Luke. Our lawyers reacted to the accident, but Lance’s name was already released. He wasn’t alone.”

“Y/N-“

“She’s in surgery right now.” Nancy’s voice broke slumping into the chair, returning to shredding the Kleenex in her hand. Alex was stock still in his chair, “I’ve been told she was lucky. There hasn’t been news on Lance yet.”

“Oh my god.” Luke breathed, staring at the scuffed shoes he had had for years by now with a little doodle you had done one night. The world faded as Luke went over a single moment, he had shared with you, and something burned; something he had carried for months now felt heavier than ever before.

Hours went by for Luke, Alex and your mother slowly the ER waiting room grew to have Reggie for support. He was the most serious he had been in his entire life; he had contacted the Patterson family but pleaded they wait for news at home. Reggie knew Luke wouldn’t be able to deal with his unresolved issues with his parents and the grief.

“Mrs. Y/L/N.” A doctor wearing scrubs called outgaining the attention of Nancy who rushed up to the older doctor, “Please follow me.”

Nancy wavered in her steps as the doctor brought the middle-aged woman to a quiet room where the sound of a heart monitor beeped. Nancy was quick to rush over to the body, resting still out from the medication.

“Y/N.” Your mother breathed collapsing into a chair where she grasped your hand tightly. Her eyes took in the superficial cuts on your face and the brace on your wrist.

“She’s miraculously lucky for the severe car accident, she has a minor concussion along with a broken wrist. We had to remove her appendix or spleen, but she’ll be fine. The seat belt, however, snapped upon impact.” The doctor spoke facing the sobbing woman with pity in his eyes, “By the bruise across her chest we can see that your husband protected her, the media calls with ‘being soccer mom’d’ or my daughter does. Had he not done that the injuries would have been too severe to survive or she would have been in a vegetative state for the rest of her life.”

“Lance. Is he okay?”

“We need to talk about that. If you could follow me, we’ll let your daughter rest.”

Sunset Curve came to an early hiatus in their music career as Luke refused to leave your room from the moment he was allowed. When visitor hours were up, you could find him in his car struggling from sneaking into your room, but the warning of charges from the guard kept him in his place. For the first time in his life, Luke had no urge to put pen to paper or strum a single tune on his guitar.

He would stay silent in the chair beside your bed, holding tight to your hand in despair and guilt. He would, of course, visit Lance when your mother came to see you, they traded off not wanting either one to be alone.

A moan from the bed brought the attention of Luke and Alex, who had visited today to convince his best friend to come home for a shower.

“Baby?” Luke lunged closer as your eye fluttered open scanning the room with bleary eyes and sadness, “Hey.”

“Why are you holding my hand?” You questioned glancing at the hand intertwined with yours. Luke’s face dropped stumbling back at the look you cast him.

 “You don’t-“

“I woke up from an accident, and you can’t hug me?” You finished staring at the boy down, unaware the delivery of the question could very well be better than it was. Luke heaved a sigh gently, pulling you into a hug.

“That was cruel. I thought you didn’t remember me.”

“Luke forgetting you is like forgetting what the moon is.” You spoke wincing as you leaned back, “What’s the damage?”

Luke’s eyes glared at the nonchalant behaviour you displayed. At the same time, he was an utter mess from a week of sleeplessness and crippling fear. Alex’s deep sigh as he pushed down on Luke’s shoulders to place him back in the chair.

“The damage is you’ve been unconscious for a week with a minor concussion, a broken wrist, a bruised knee that was recently diagnosed, you are one spleen less, and you won’t have to worry about getting appendicitis. You will be incredibly sore from the bruises as well.” Alex supplied leaning to gently hug your form for even if you were dating his ex you had quickly grown to be a surrogate little sister.

“Oh.” You blinked, turning to stare at the wall, “What about my Dad?”

“He’s fine. He’s been struggling with orderlies every day to escape to check on you.” Luke spoke, “Your mom and I have had to do shifts between rooms during visitation hours. Security wasn’t happy to find me in here after hours.”

“Good.” You nodded leaning back in the bed staring up at the ceiling muttering a reply when Alex murmured, he would head to tell your parents you were awake.

Luke once had romantic plans before the accident, but when he found out about your accident, everything hit him. What-ifs of never living his dreams with you, of the things he might never get to do.

“Your hand better heal fast so that brace can come off.” Luke spoke, keeping his gaze on your face entirely in love with you. Your look of confusion amusing him, “Well how will the ring fit?”

“Ring?” You questioned becoming owl-eyed when Luke pulled out a stunning ring from his pocket, “Oh my god.”

“You tend to change my plans with everything you do. I was going to have this big speech and a romantic dinner, but I can’t wait.” Luke spoke, leaning to wipe away a tear from your eye, “I never want to be that scared again so until I can blow your socks off with a better proposal will you marry me?”

Your hand cupped the smooth cheek of the boy you loved more than words could ever say, “No.”

Luke’s heart broke at the words he never anticipated to hear, “What?”

“I say this because I love you, but I don’t want to go into an engagement with bad blood between you and your parents. You’ve shown them that your dream was worth it, but now you have to reach out. I want only happiness when we get engaged.”

Luke nodded his head, putting the ring back in his pocket, disappointed in the response, but what could he do? You gave a reason, and while definitely annoyed him he couldn’t fault your compassionate nature. For once in your entire relationship, the silence was awkward.

“So…” You trailed off, avoiding looking at Luke, “Have you decided on a tracklist for the album?”

“Huh? Oh, no.” Luke shook his head only to be relieved when your parents came into the room. Nancy was already crying as she collapsed into the chair.

“Oh baby.” Nancy spoke, pressing a kiss to the bruised forehead you currently rocked. Lance scowled as he was rolled closer to the bed by the orderly.

“I’m fine.” You grumbled as your mom scanned every part of you, “Seriously!”

“I almost lost my baby.” Your mom snapped before apologizing at raising her tone, “Let me coddle you.”

You resigned yourself, but there was a sadness inside as Luke shared a goodbye before leaving you alone with your parents. You really wished you hadn’t been wrong in your decision.

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[prose-for-hire]

Star Cross’d Lovers

Pairing: Spike x reader (gender not mentioned)

Request: Could you do a Spike x female reader where she just started collage and had a night out with her friends and her and Spike noticed each other and couldn’t stop staring at each other but then she gets dragged away by her friends and then for the next few days tries to find him again and when she finally does tries to subtly catch his attention and he sees her after he’s been doing the same and then they are both so stunned by each other?

Requested by: Anon

A/N: I got Romeo and Juliet (1996) vibes from this request (you know when they look through that fish tank in the Baz Luhrmann film?). I listened to kissing you by Des’Ree a lot while I wrote this lol.

Again, with all of these I’ve been posting recently sorry about the wait!! I’ve had this real sudden surge of inspiration and I’m just rolling with it and hoping it doesn’t run out ! 💜

You were enjoying college so far. You hadn’t really been one for going out much before you moved to UC Sunnydale. However, you went out more often now. Especially because your new friends all went out so often – if you didn’t come you would only miss something important.

Usually, you would read. Romantic novels, epic sweeping tales that filled the emptiness you felt from that particular emotion. There was a void that needed filling. You felt somedays as if nobody truly saw you. As if there was something about you that didn’t fit the way it did with everyone else.

You wished you didn’t feel so lonely some days. Even when you were in a room with friends you felt it. This feeling inside that was told you there was something missing. Something lost in the back of your mind that you knew intrinsically but it just would not come to the forefront.

To prevent yourself from dwelling on this, you often filled your moments with distraction. Reading and learning. Meeting your friends and dancing at the local club on the weekend.

Upon moving to Sunnydale, you had noticed something odd about a good amount of the population you now lived alongside. After dark in the demons began to rise. You had researched it extensively and heard snippets when people dared to mention it.

Contrary to popular opinion, humans all knew about it, but rarely spoke of it. It was an unsaid rule that you didn’t express interest or date anyone that was a vampire or you suspected was a vampire. It could be hard to tell sometimes, but so long as you stayed with your group of friends at least one of you could usually identify one. Protect the rest.

It was Friday evening and you were getting ready to go out with your friends. The whole group had crashed your dorm and the music was loud as you got dressed and some did makeup. You had a little to drink, a pre-game before the real night out. You laughed and enjoyed the buzz around you.

It was a themed club night, a ‘masquerade ball’ kind of vibe. Except, all you needed to get in was a mask that at least resembled what it was supposed to. You took it a little more seriously, dressing and finding a mask that you thought was stylish and yet accurate.

When you finally got in, after waiting around the block to enter, the atmosphere was electric. There was live music and everyone seemed to be in a good mood.

The air crackled with life, the possibilities endless. The night was young and so full of promise. So many vibrations ran through your body as you swayed between the crowd, soaking up every second of the atmosphere.

You went straight to the bar to get your drink of choice. Smiling and laughing as your friends spoke about their plans for the evening. You smiled at them, chipping in when you could.

You were on the periphery. You felt it so acutely. Something nibbling on the back of your mind. Your insecurity gnawed into, releasing slight electricity shocking your nerves.

You shook your thoughts away. Smiling as your friend took your hand. Pulling you towards the dancefloor. The music was so loud it was deafening. You swayed and jumped, trying to let yourself go. Let your thoughts roll off you.

Spike was watching the dancefloor from afar. His eyes had scanned the crowd. He was stood in the shadows, on the peripheries of the bar. His surroundings were monotonous. Nothing he hadn’t seen a million times over before. The landscape could have been baron for all he cared.

It was the same night in and night out. He had reluctantly slipped a mask on his face because this bar sold spirits that hadn’t been as watered down as the rest in the area.

He shrugged some drunk guy off him as he tried to lean in and tell him something that he had heard in every language. Every accent before. A comment on how hot the people surrounding them were, how he was going to take as many home as he could. That he wanted to know Spike’s opinion.

But he just ignored the human, pushing him back into the crowd. He took a gulp of beer, eyes still just watching. Everything was bland, tasteless. He wanted more. He wanted to live, despite his current lack of life. He wanted love, despite his broken and walked over heart.

He found his bottle was empty. Again. He rolled his eyes. Staring into the emptiness. He threw it to the ground, ignoring the shouts as the glass smashed against the wall near-missing some masked strangers.

He stalked back to the bar, just as you fought with the sea of dancers to take a break from all of the bodies writhing against yours on the dancefloor. You leaned in, over the bar to try and get someone’s attention. But upon this action was when your life drastically changed course.

You saw him. On the opposite end of the bar. The man that your dreams would dream of.

Your eyes met his. And time stopped. You began drowning in the blue of his eyes. These striking eyes were so blue you were sure they would rename the colour after him should any other gaze into his soul this way.

The music around you slowed. You felt the vibrations through you but it was as if the volume was turned all the way down. As if they knew this was your moment. That it would only now be you and him.

All you could see was him, he was fast becoming in every sense of yours. You wanted to be consumed by him, completely. When his eyes met yours he had he gasped, without need. He was instantly in awe of you. He had never seen someone with such beauty. Such radiance without

You glowed with the incandescence of the sun he could not cast his eye upon. But he would no longer wish or think of this insignificant mass of light. When there you were. Now the very centre of his universe. His sun.

You inspired awe. Your features were perfection, he wished to trace his fingers along your cheek. Your jaw. He wished to press his lips to yours. To unite in a way that was so intimate. He wanted all of you. He needed you.

He knew. He knew you were everything he could ever want. More, even. One look was all that it took.

You smiled, looking down slightly, rubbing the back of your neck at his penetrating gaze. This meant something. This was love, he had never been so sure of it. Or at least the potential for that to blossom. He had never felt anything like it. It was new. Refreshing. You were everything he had been waiting for.

For centuries. Even beyond that.

He began to move with purpose, towards you and you opened your mouth as if to speak. His heart would have skipped a beat if it could as he anticipated how your voice would sound. What beautiful words you could bestow upon him. What syllables he was about to treasure for the rest of his existence.

Just as you took a breath to speak, to put your affections into words, your friends surrounded you. They giggled and hollered and started to pull you back towards the dancefloor. You giggled along with them, but turned back to try to move back towards him. One of your friends saw him and stopped laughing, tugging your arm more urgently to come away with them. You turned to look at him over your shoulder, giving an apologetic look before you were pulled away by the current of people.

You couldn’t enjoy yourself now you had been torn from him. You looked for him the entire night, after that. Your eyes scanning the crowd but you had no luck. You would know him no matter what, you were sure of it. Your heart was promised to his. There had been nobody that you had felt such a connection with before.  

You didn’t realise, but he was looking for you too. Nobody had made his spirits rise the way you had with just one look. Nobody had made such an impression. He was admittedly love’s bitch, but this feeling was a complete revelation. He felt the Earth shifting. He was transfixed on your face, memorising your features. You glowed, igniting something deep in his soul. Something he had long since lost.

You were just missing each other each time, eventually the night came to a close and you went home, as did he, your separate ways.

You had heard what your friend had thought of him. Hinting that he was a demon, not the kind you could possibly fall in love with as a human. But that didn’t matter to you, you were so sure he was the answer to a question you had never had the words to even ask before.

The way he had looked into your eyes, he saw you. More than the people you had known for years. Perhaps more than you knew yourself. You were so sure of it. So sure that you were meant to be with him. To hold him and to be held by him. To adore and cherish. To love and be loved.

You were back in your dorm. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you looked out into the night. You sighed, wishing he would be there waiting. Having found you somehow, some way. Having heard your heart calling out to his. But he wasn’t, he was on the other side of town, hoping that every stranger he passed was you. That every voice he heard would be the one he had so sorely missed out on hearing.

In the bleak, lonely light of the following morning you had decided you weren’t going to be able to rest until you saw him again. Spoke to him, laid your intentions bare to him. Just as he was thinking the same.

Where you had gone out only a handful of times, you started going out every night. Hitting every dive bar and club that you could find in the town you now called home. You searched, your heart aching.

You went to a bar and he was scanning the crowd at a different club. You were walking through the streets almost stopping every stranger you could find and he was doing the same but on the college campus. You circled each other, a well-choreographed dance. Neither of you gave up. You couldn’t, you knew you would never rest until you found him.

One night, your dreams came true. His hopes, his pining for you reaching its peak as he caught a glimpse of you. His heart ached for you. He wished to drop to his knees, take it from his chest and hand it to you. He could only wish you would take it. Look after it the way he felt deep within that you would.

He had pressed your image into his mind. You lived there, in his head. As if he could conjure you up just by wishing it. But nothing could compare to the vision before him.

He knew it was you straight away. He called out and you turned. As if you knew.

Neither of you cared about those that would not trust this union. Your human friends. The demons that hated his affection for a human. Some had already tried to fight him over it.

You saw his face and smiled softly, your legs moving towards him of their own accord. As if you were being pulled by an unstoppable force. But you never willed it to stop. Only to bring you closer. To be by his side. In death, in life. In any way. You would surrender it all. For him.

His face lifted as you stepped closer. His hand reached for you. To dare graze his thumb along your cheekbone. You leaned into his touch. Eyes closing and breath catching.

You yearned for him. Almost wept at the contact. You slid your hands, resting on his elbows as both hands now reached for your face. His hands felt rough, but his touch was gentle against your skin as they slid against your cheeks.

His lips caught yours. Soft and urgent. Desperate and reluctant, as if he was worried he would break you. You were lost in this kiss.

Time stopped and nothing could ever be the same. It was your first meeting but one so familiar it transcended this mere moment. This was forever.

An eternal love. You felt whole. It had the power to ensoul. To renew each other’s faith in love and life itself.

Little were you aware that the stars had plans for you both, the fates were aligning and you were not aware in which way they would sway. You didn’t care.

All that mattered was him.

[allsassnoclass]

okay so re: smutless long fics, I’ve tried to compile a list of fics as close to 50k words as possible since that’s the wordcount the anon cited and tbh my friends there really are not that many that I personally have read but I did my best.  All fics under the cut are over 30k and have either been verified good by me or my trusted friends

delete this transmission by @anxietycalling: 67k mashton sci-fi. I reread this one recently and it’s just as amazing the second time around I very highly recommend it

“Yeah,” he says, catching sight of his reflection in the dimly reflective surface and running fingers through his hair to fluff it up. And instead of getting on the mag-train home like he wants to, he catches the northbound train to the greenlawn with Calum. “You know, I think I might not go through with it,” he tells his best friend, meaning his activation. They sit together across from the back doors of the car and watch the adverts for an upcoming showing of ‘Titanic’ at the interactive theater. While Calum sits beside him silently he gnaws on a thumbnail and wonders whether it’s too late to get his money back.

“You can’t go back on it now,” Calum tells him.

And it’s true: His payment has already been processed, the credits removed from his profile. The invoice showed up in his e-net overnight and he’d added it to his encrypted folder. “It’s just - weird,” he says, weighing each of the words on his tongue before he speaks. “To be in charge of another person like that. I don’t want that responsibility.”

I’m a Falling Star by @pixiegrl: 55k lashton fantasy, very cute and sweet

A philosopher once asked, “Are we human because we gaze at the stars or do we gaze at them because we are human?” Pointless really. “Do the stars gaze back?” Now that’s a question.

Or: Ashton’s a shop boy setting out on a adventure to find a star to help grant a wish. Luke’s a star crashed to Earth looking for some help to get back home. They’re both in for more adventure than they bargained for.

I Wanna Sleep Next to You... by milecgv: 54k malum college au.  I read it over a year ago but I’m pretty sure I enjoyed it then

"Cuddle buddies, how can I help you?"

Pausing, Calum thought, he could just hang up. Get over the moment of weakness and face the rest of the night alone. He could do it. But the idea of spending one more second alone, brought a fresh pang of hurt to his heart and really, he couldn't bear it. Before his thought process could spiral out of control, the calm voice repeated itself.

"Um, yeah. I-, I need someone to-" He cut himself off because really, how was he going to phrase this?

Chuckling softly, the man on the other line interjected. "Sir, do you need someone to cuddle you?"

Shit, it was now or never. "Yeah. I-uh, I do." His voice came out so small, and he really hoped the man on the other side wouldn't pick up on how desperate he was.

~~~

Calum gets the opportunity to live out his dreams in New York City but it proves too much for him, and on a lonely night he ends up calling the professional cuddle service he swore he'd never call.

those are the only three completed fics over 50k that I personally can vouch for, but here are a few more longer ones I’ve read and I’ll link some over 50k that have gotten good reviews from my friends after those.

Destination: Perth by onlythevoid: 34k lashton 

The stranger swung into the seat next to him and sighed contentedly. Luke stole a glance from under his hat. It was a boy with light-brown messy hair, reminiscent of surfers Luke saw on the beach in Brisbane - he had a t-shirt on and black jeans, and fade-tint round-frame sunglasses propped on his straight nose.

The stranger caught Luke’s eyes.

“Hey?” The stranger asked. Shouldn’t have looked at him, Luke thought. Too late.

The stranger had set his sunglasses on his head and was peering below Luke’s cap. “Dude. You look terrible. Are you okay?”

Oh, so the stranger was one of those guys. Too friendly and ever-inquisitive. Yes, Luke looked like shit; he’d been crying for an hour at a time, every few hours, and all he’d had to eat in the past two days was some wet broccoli at the hospital and a bag of chips he’d bought that morning in Brisbane, and there were bruises all up and down his right arm from a car crash he wished he’d died in.

Luke didn’t say any of that. He prayed his voice would be steady and said, “Yes. Thanks.”

The messy-haired boy did not seem convinced. After a pause, he offered, “My name’s Ashton, by the way.”

hello, hello by @clumsyclifford: 30k lashton

For one long, blinking minute, Luke stares at Ashton and wonders if he’s hallucinating. Because that’s definitely Ashton. That’s Ashton Irwin, his former best friend from Sunny Days, the show they co-starred on as children.

But it’s also definitely Ashton Fletcher, professional film actor worth many millions, possibly hundreds of millions, of dollars, standing on his doorstep, wind ruffling his hair.

Now for the fics that I haven’t read but can confidently say are good through a rigorous peer review system (aka I have friends who read them/I have read and enjoyed other works by these people)

home is wherever you are tonight by @lifewasradical: 72k lashton. this one is on my tbr, I have only heard good things, and I’ve read other things by Amanda and trust her as a writer

Life has become so mundane in the past few years that there’s very little that sends a thrill up Luke’s spine anymore. It’s that idea that had him saying yes to the idea of moving out here for a few weeks anyways: the knowledge that this was a completely new place where no one knew his name. He could be anyone he wanted to be here, within reason. He wouldn’t be seeing any of these people again after May, so what’s the harm in becoming a new person for a bit? Someone not so bogged down by the shit in their head that they can’t get out of bed some mornings. Maybe this is a step in the direction of the person Luke wants to be in the future anyways.

Or, Luke inherits a beach house on a tiny costal island that needs some work. He didn't plan on falling in love with the guy at the hardware store.

world war series by prettyluke: 58k lashton historical au. Megs really likes this one and I trust her judgement

Even after months of seeing bodies ripped apart by bullets and bombs, Ashton still isn't prepared to be ripped apart by the fragile German soldier who has seen far more than any child should.

and

Luke shows up in Britain after 25 years right in time for World War Two to start, and Ashton has been waiting for someone to yank him from his melancholy since Christmas of 1914.

i’ll keep on fighting (just to make you believe) by @squishmichael: 33k muke I have heard good things about this one, have read other works by Taylor and trust them as a writer, and also I did skim this one when it first came out and it’s good I just need to sit down and fully read while paying attention

“Hi, Mike,” Luke says softly.

Michael might have cried from hearing his voice so clearly, not through a phone line, but instead his smile just gets bigger and bigger until his cheeks hurt.

“Hey, Luke,” he replies before throwing himself at Luke, arms looping around his neck and holding tight.

“Easy there, tiger,” Luke says with a chuckle, but he hugs Michael back.

It feels so different, all the shapes and sizes wrong, yet Michael has never felt so at home, melting right into the hug. Luke still fits so perfectly against him despite everything. Because it’s them, and they’re meant to be, and Michael never wants to let go.

*

In which Luke is finally coming home to Australia for the summer after two years, and everything should be perfect. Michael quickly realizes nothing is.

Under the High Low Lights I See You There by @pixiegrl: 33k lashton 90s bar au. I have heard a lot of good things and I have read and enjoyed Emily’s writing

Luke moves onto cleaning the glasses, sneaking glances over at him, admiring the open blue flannel he’s wearing with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his chest in the white tank top he’s wearing and the pull of it over his muscles, the acid wash denim pants straining over his thighs. He’s attractive and Luke knows he shouldn’t be looking, shouldn’t be so obvious in his stares, but he can’t help it. The man was made to be admired.

Or: It’s the summer of 1996 in New York City when Luke meets Ashton at his bar. Things aren’t always as they seem.

He Did Ballet by @kaleidoscopeminds: 34k cake. people love this one and meg is a great writer

Like the way he danced, everything in Luke's life was perfectly placed, an allegro exercise all on beat, an enchainment with no mistakes. The last thing he needed was a distraction, something to pull his attention away and make him stumble, like losing your spot during a series of fouettés. He glances back towards the bar and sees Calum still looking in his direction. Luke catches his eye again by mistake for just a second too long and Calum smiles slowly and winks at him. Luke shivers slightly and already feels slightly unbalanced. Calum is definitely not a good idea.

Luke's life is perfectly on track. He is about to get everything he's ever wanted, to become a Principal dancer for the Royal Ballet. He's focused, determined and nothing will get in his way. Then he meets Calum, a smooth-tongued barman with dangerous eyes, and suddenly not everything's so simple.

The Sun Is Burning Down Los Angeles by @burstingsunrise: 40k cake. have heard good things and Molly is a good writer

Calum probably signed a form saying he wouldn’t fall in love with the lead singer of the band. And he really doesn’t want to. What a cliché. It’s just…people get famous for a reason. This guy got famous for all the reasons.

***

Calum moves to LA to work for 5SOS.

[crashdevlin]

Centerfold 5- Waiting For You

Centerfold Masterlist

Author’s Note: Written for Meghan who requested some fluffy A/B/O smut and then I came up with an idea and ran with it. Smut will start after the plot is established. Also, this is gonna go toward my @spnabobingo​ squares. This chapter fills my Motor Oil/Cut Grass/Gunpowder square and is rated T for Teen.

Summary: Dean heads to Vegas with Sam to crash the AVN Awards in the hopes of meeting up with Taffy Rose.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Reader

Word count: 2069

Story Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, pornography, mentions of multiple partners, Sam being a bit of a creeper asshole

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

Dean was sure it was a bad idea. There were a thousand ways it could go bad, taking his soulless little brother on a trip to Vegas. But Lisa was pretty much done with him, hadn't answered the phone since he was a vampire, Sam's loss of soul was stressing him out, and he needed a break. The fact that the AVN Awards were going to be taking place the next day was a coincidence...mostly.

"So, you're taking your soulless brother to Vegas to chase down some porn star?" Sam asked, amused. "I can think of a dozen reasons why this would be a bad idea."

Dean sighed. "Yeah. Well, we're going because Vegas is tradition, soul or no soul, and Taffy isn't just 'some porn star'. Jenna Jameson is 'some porn star'. Lisa Ann is 'some porn star'. Taffy Rose is the woman of my dreams and the future mother of my children, okay? She just doesn't know it yet. When I find her and remind her who I am, she's gonna be mine."

"Yeah. 'Cause all the porn stars wanna settle down and have a bunch of pups with some hunter they knew for a week of high school in 1996."

"'95, Sammy, and she's gonna remember me. No way I'm the only one who remembers that." Dean sighed heavily and shook his head. "I mean, I was her first! No way she forgot about me."

Sam just shrugged and pulled out his phone to distract himself. Porn awards could be fun. He could find some willing woman to sink into. It'd been a few days since he got laid, he was itching for some relief. Some tiny thing with giant fake tits would be perfect. And if there was an entire category of omega actors, maybe he could find a nice omega to fuck.

Dean got two rooms when they got the motel. He was confident he wouldn't want anything to do with whatever Sam picked up at the AVN Awards and he didn't want Sam interrupting when he managed to get Taffy, Y/n, back to his room.

Dean had trouble choosing what to wear. Plaid seemed too hunter, too redneck, too Kansas to approach a Cali-based porn star at an awards show. His FBI suits and his old Homeland Security suit both seemed to strangle him with formality. The Pink Floyd concert tee was too casual. All of his tees were. It took a while but eventually he settled on his best jeans, the ones that made his ass look awesome, and his light grey Henley. Nothing that said he was trying too hard, but also not something that made him look like a lumberjack sans the beard.

Sam was already in the Impala by the time Dean left his room. Sam was in a dark red v-neck shirt and jeans and had obviously not agonized over his wardrobe. "Took you long enough, Dean. What, were you rubbing one out so you'd last longer than five seconds when you meet up with her?"

"No!" Dean exclaimed, but he couldn't help but think that was a missed opportunity. "Shut up. Let's go."

They talked their way in, it was second nature to lie to get into places they weren’t supposed to be, and the guard really had no problem believing that the two imposing alphas were bodyguards for some of the actors.

“All right. Let’s split up. If you find Taffy, call me...then, ya know...have at it,” Dean said, gesturing to the right side of the theater before taking off to the left.

Sam rolled his eyes and walked away into the theater. There were hundreds of attractive actors mulling around and they were all wearing various revealing, shiny outfits...all of whom Sam would be willing to nail. He stopped a particularly busty redhead and smiled. “Have you seen Taffy Rose? I’m supposed to deliver a message.”

The redhead looked him up and down like she wanted to eat him and licked her lips. “Taffy’s on the mezzanine with the other omegas. They won’t let an alpha through the door. I could go get her for you,” she offered, her voice seductive.

“That would be great, actually.” Sam let his eyes run down her body. “But don’t stray too far.”

She bit her lip as she walked away on six inch high heels. She was hot as fuck, her dress tight and riding up as she walked. Sam could definitely see her wrapped around his cock. She would be fun to play with. She would be more than satisfying. She would be-

Sam’s jaw dropped a little as a small woman in a light pink crossover dress with a pink plaid skirt walked out. She had nude colored Mary Jane shoes on, natural tits...and looked so completely out of place surrounded by half-dressed, silicone-filled women that it was like a beacon of light shined on her. Sam wanted her. Dean would forgive him for having a little fun before he delivered her to him, right? And if not, Sam didn’t care.

“Hi, Sunny said you had a message for me?” she said, approaching him. Sam loved the size difference between them. Even in heels, he eclipsed her.

“Taffy, right?” Sam asked, stepping closer. He’d seen the pictures, he knew exactly who she was, but he wanted to talk to her longer, get a bit more time to scent her. She was something floral and pretty.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

Sam stepped closer again and she cleared her throat. “You don’t remember me. You shouldn’t. I was, what, twelve when we met.”

“We’ve met?” she squeaked. She swallowed and took a step back. Sam could smell arousal leaking into her scent and he smirked. She was so easy. Dripping slick already. This is what an omega gets for staying unmated so long.

“Yeah. Back in Olympia. Seems like a million years ago, Y/n.” Sam stepped closer again and Y/n gasped as she backed away and her back hit the wall behind her. “Neither of us were presented back then. I didn’t realize how good you smell.”

“S-sorry, I...who are you?”

“Always knew you were pretty, though.”

She took a deep breath and put her hand on his chest, lightly pushing him away. “I don’t recognize you and you’re making me uncomfortable so if you don’t back up and say what you came to say, I’m gonna have to-”

“Sam, you soulless bastard, get away from her!” Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s voice and stepped back as Dean ran up. “I told you to call me if you found her, dammit!”

Sam shrugged. “She’s hot. Had to try it.”

“Go...away,” Dean growled and Y/n shivered. He watched his brother’s large frame disappear into the crowd before he turned to the omega, his omega. “Taffy, sorry about him. He’s...got some issues right now. Mental...issues. Um...I…” His words faltered as he looked into her eyes. She was right there in front of him. “Y/n,” he whispered and she gasped.

She took a deep breath and stepped close. “Dean?”

“You remember,” he whispered, taking his own deep breath of her floral scent. There was a tinge of arousal to it and he almost whimpered.

“Of course I remember. I’ve been waiting to smell that special blend of motor oil and fresh cut grass and…” She leaned up and groaned as she sniffed at his neck. “...burning gunpowder. I’ve been waiting for you for half my life.”

“That’s what I smell like to you?” Dean asked, smiling. “And you know what burning gunpowder smells like?”

She licked her lips and let out a small giggle. “I got shot...in one of my films. They shot a blank at me, I recognized the smell immediately...so I started to hang out at the range every once in a while.”

He smiled proudly. His omega liked guns. Awesome. “I saw you in last August’s Playboy. I never thought I’d see you again and...there you were in the centerfold, lookin’ so much hotter than you did in high school. But somehow just the same. You looked, you look amazing. So beautiful and...somehow innocent.”

“I’m very good at that. It’s my signature look.”

“I don’t know how you pull it off, buck naked, but you do.”

“So...um...I…” She looked away, trying to clear her mind. “So...You saw my Playboy and had to come find me?”

Dean licked his lips and stepped closer. He wanted to touch her, grab her waist and pull her against his body, but he didn’t. Not until she was ready. “I saw your Playboy and I went home and watched every clip of every video I could find with your name. ‘Taffy Rose’, huh?”

“Well, I really like pink. Taffy, rose, they’re shades of pink.”

“I remember. I see you still favor pink clothes,” he said, gesturing at her dress. “It’s a cute dress.”

“It’d look better on your floor?” she guessed, looking up into his eyes. His cheeks burned at her words. “I’m sure it would. Your freckles still pop when you blush.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, some things never change.”

“So, your omega didn’t mind you coming to Vegas to see me?” she asked, biting her bottom lip.

“No omega. No wife, no girlfriend. You?”

She giggled, setting her hand on his shoulder. “No wife or girlfriend for me either.”

“Seriously, Taffy.” His voice went soft. “You got somebody waitin’ at home for you?”

“Yeah.” She smiled as his stomach dropped, and ran her hand up his shoulder to the back of his neck. “I have a husky dog named Wolf. Real original, I know, but she was a rescue...already named.” She pulled his head down and bumped her nose against his. “No husband, no boyfriend...no alpha.” He gasped as she kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’ve been waiting for you, Dean.”

His head went a little dizzy at her words. “Y/n.”

“Have you been waiting for me?” she whispered into his ear.

“Betas only, baby. Never had a ‘mega. Only ever wanted you,” he answered.

She smiled bright as she pulled back and looked into his eyes again. “I’ve only ever really wanted you, too. I think about you all the time, Dean. Never thought…” She looked soft and innocent as she sighed. “I’m so happy you found me.”

“Me, too.”

“I might be getting an award, so I...I can’t leave yet, but...after the show’s over...why don’t you come back to my hotel with me?” He was just about to say ‘God yes’ when she finished with, “I can show you all the things I’ve learned over the past fifteen years.” His jaw dropped, words frozen in his throat. All he could do was nod. “Good. I’ve been dreaming of this since high school. Put my number in your phone. You won’t be allowed on the mezzanine with me, so I’ll have to find you after.”

Dean pulled out his phone and entered her number as she rattled it off, immediately sending her a text so that she had his number, too. She shined as she looked down at her phone screen to see the text ‘Hey mega <3’. “God, you’re cute.” She giggled and wrapped her arm around his neck again, pulling him down for a quick kiss.

What should have been a quick kiss, anyway, because he couldn’t let her go once he had her on his lips. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. She tasted just like he remembered. Her hands buried in his hair as he pushed her against the wall and licked at her tongue. She moaned as his hands moved down her back to grasp at her ass. He was panting when he pulled back. “Sorry. I...suddenly, I’m sixteen with no control of myself again.”

She giggled that laugh that he loved with all of his heart and patted his cheek. “Well, I just can’t wait to see you really lose control, Dean,” she said before spinning away from him and the wall, her skirt twirling as she headed back toward the mezzanine.

Dean sighed and watched her until she disappeared from his sight. She was so much better than he remembered. She was perfect. She was his.

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

The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth​ @flamencodiva​ @wasabiwitteks​ @rainbowkisses31​ @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661​ @officiallyunofficialperson​ @dolphincliffs​ @mrs-meghan-winchester​ @gayspacenerd​ @foxyjwls007​ @ilovefanfic86​ @marvelfansworld​ @f-yeahfandoms​ @wonderlandfandomkingdom​ @hhiggs​ @sev3nruby​  @hobby27​ @paintballkid711​ @divadinag​ @thewhiterabbit42​ @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @superfanficnatural​ @letsby​ @supernatural-bellawinchester​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @swinchester27​ @chalicia​ @sunnyroadtrips​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @dayasvalkyrie​ Hunter Tags - @atc74​ @sandlee44​ @spnbaby-67​ @kalesrebellion​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @hoboal87​ @stoneyggirl​ @kbl1313​ @cookiechipdough​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ @holylulusworld​ @pretty-fortune​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @we-are-all-a-bunch-of-idjits​ @imperiusimpala​ @supernaturalenchanted​ Gaga For Green Eyes Tags- @typicalweirdbookworm​ @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @jadesupernatural​ @stoneyggirl​ @4fareader​ @squirrelnotsam​ @lyarr24​ @akshi8278​ @pretty-fortune​ @we-are-all-a-bunch-of-idjits​

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[aion-rsa]

How Final Destination Went From Real-Life Premonition to Horror Phenomenon

https://ift.tt/30jSLcc

The year 2000 was a scary one for horror films and not always in a good way.  

While American Psycho and The Cell offered up visually striking nihilistic thrills to genre fans, the majority of horror movies released at the dawn of the new millennium were at best forgettable and, at worst, lamentable – yes, we’re looking at you, Leprechaun in the Hood.  

This was the year of duff sequels like Book of Shadows: Blair Witch 2, Urban Legends: Final Cut and, though it is painful to admit, Scream 3. Horror fans were screaming out for something different, something exciting. They found it with Final Destination.  

Discarding the stalk-and-slash thrills that had enjoyed a revival in the years following the release of Scream, Final Destination centered on a group of high schoolers who end up avoiding a fatal plane crash thanks to a premonition, only to discover there is no escaping death’s plan as one by one they are offed in a variety of brilliantly inventive “accidents”.  

Released in March of that year, Final Destination was a sleeper hit with word-of-mouth helping the film to clean up at the box office, earning $112 million off a $23 million budget with more than half of that coming internationally.  

To date, it has spawned four sequels as well as a variety of novelisations and comic book spin-offs while a franchise reboot is also on the horizon.  

Read more

Movies

The Final Destination Movies, Ranked

By Sarah Dobbs

Jeffrey Reddick has worked on several films during his career to date but he’s probably best known as the creator of Final Destination. It’s something he has come to terms with.  

“It’s probably going to end up on my gravestone, it’s such an ironic title,” he tells Den of Geek.  

“Sometimes I’ll be out and I will hear someone say ‘you just had a Final Destination moment’ and it will make me smile. The whole thing just took on a life of its own.”  

Nightmarish Origins  

A screenwriter and director, Reddick recalls how his neighbors in rural Jackson, Kentucky, would laugh when his six-year-old self would tell them about his plans to work in the movie business.   

An avid writer and reader of Greek and Roman mythology, he recalls spending his formative years watching horror movies with his friends. His mother was only too happy to indulge his burgeoning interest too, knowing it kept him out of trouble elsewhere.  

Reddick’s life began to change after he saw A Nightmare on Elm Street.   

“That film cemented my love of horror. I was this 14-year-old hillbilly from Kentucky but I decided I was going to write a prequel. I went home, banged it out on my typewriter and sent it to Bob Shaye.”  

The legendary head of New Line Cinema initially dismissed Reddick’s draft out of hand, returning it with a note explaining the studio did not “accept unsolicited material.”  

Undaunted, Reddick sent the script back with a note telling him “Look mister, I spent three dollars on your movie and I think you could take five minutes on my story.”  

Shaye was impressed and struck up a bond with the youngster that saw him sending everything from scripts to posters to Reddick during his teenage years.  

When Reddick moved to New York to study acting, age 19, he was offered an internship with New Line, which would become a full-time role despite acting being his “main passion.”  

“Diversity in casting was not a thing at that time,” he recalls.  

“My agent was like ‘I don’t know what to do with you as an actor. We can’t put you up for gangsters or pimps and you don’t rap and you don’t play basketball.”  

“So  I figured, screw it, I will just write stuff and put myself in it.”  

Reddick was present at New Line during their company’s early 90s creative heyday and credits the experience with helping him get Final Destination off the ground.  

“I learned a lot about how to get a movie made. I knew that to make a movie that connected with an audience you had to tap into something that was universal. Death is the ultimate fear.”  

As luck would have it, the idea actually came to Reddick while on a flight back to Kentucky.  

“I read about a woman who was on vacation and her mother told her not to take the flight she was planning to take home as she had a bad feeling about it. The woman changed it and the plane she was supposed to be on crashed.”  

At that point however the idea wasn’t Final Destination. It wasn’t a film either. It was an episode of The X Files.  

The Truth Is Out There  

“I was trying to get a TV agent at the time and they recommended I write a spec script for something already on the air. I was a huge fan of The X Files and thought about a scene where somebody has a premonition and gets off the plane and then it crashes and used that as the plot.”  

“It was going to be Scully’s brother Charles who had the premonition. He gets off the plane with a few other people but they start dying and Charles blacks out every time there is a murder so people suspect he is doing it.   

Read more

TV

I Still Want to Believe: Revisiting The X-Files Pilot

By Chris Longo

“The twist at the end was that the sheriff who had been investigating alongside Mulder and Scully the whole time had actually been shot and flatlined at the same time as the plane crash.  Death brought him back to kill off all the survivors, including Charles.”  

It would have made for a great episode except it was never submitted to The X Files. Reddick showed his spec script to some friends at New Line who were so impressed, they told him to develop it into a treatment for a feature, which was eventually purchased by the studio.  

Producers Craig Perry and Warren Zide were brought onboard to develop the story and set about tweaking his idea.  

“Originally the cast of survivors were adults because I wanted to explore more adult themes but Scream had come out and teenagers were hot again so New Line got me to change it”  

In a twist of fate, two established writers from The X Files, James Wong and Glen Morgan, were brought onboard to rejig Reddick’s script.   

“My version was definitely darker and more like A Nightmare on Elm Street,” he says.  

“In my script, death would torment the kids about some kind of past sin they felt guilty about. They would then die in these accidents that ended up looking like suicides.”  

For example, Todd’s death saw him chased into the family garage by an unseen specter where he accidentally ended up rigged in a noose triggered when his dad opens the automatic garage door.   

Death is all around us  

Ultimately that death scene and several others were ultimately scrapped in favour of what would prove to be the franchise’s calling card.  

Reddick credits Wong and Morgan with coming up with the idea of having the film’s key death scenes kicked off by a Rube Goldberg machine-like chain-reaction that would see everyday things colliding to create a lethal scenario. It was nothing short of a masterstroke.   

“It created this notion that death is all around us,” Reddick says.  

“Death would use everyday things around us. It made it more universal and allowed us to set the deaths in places where people go all the time. The payoff would be fun but it was the build-up that had you on the edge of your seat.”  

There was one major sticking point for the studio though: the presence of death, or rather the lack of.  

“I fought really hard to make sure we never showed death because for me, if you didn’t show it, it could be something someone, no matter their belief system, could project onto our villain. That was a tough sell for the studio. They would be like ‘this doesn’t make any sense, you can’t see it and you can’t fight it’ but that’s the point, it’s death.”  

“Luckily both James Wong and Glen Morgan were very insistent we never show it and tie it in to a specific belief system.”  

Reddick credits the move with helping Final Destination become “an international phenomenon”.  

“It struck a chord with people around the world. It broke out beyond the horror audience.”  

Casting dreams   

When it came to casting, Reddick had a clear idea of who he wanted in the lead roles, even if the studio’s opinion differed drastically.  

“I had a wish list with Tobey Maguire and Kirsten Dunst as my two leads but New Line was like ‘well…’”  

He might not have got his first pick but Final Destination boasted an impressive cast of up-and-comers who had already made waves among teen audiences.   

Devon Sawa had starred in Idle Hands, while Ali Larter was known for Varsity Blues and Kerr Smith was a regular on Dawson’s Creek. There was even room for Seann William Scott, fresh from his breakout turn in American Pie who was drafted in on the recommendation of producer Craig Perry, who told Reddick “you’ve got to get this kid, he’s going to be huge.”  

Even so, Reddick was left a little unhappy.  

“One of the conversations we had early on was like ‘Just remember this is set in New York, which is one of the most diverse cities in the world so let’s make sure we have some diversity in the cast’ and they were like ‘oh we will’ and then there wasn’t anyone who wasn’t white in it.”  

New Line chief Bob Shaye did find a way to make amends on some level at least, casting Candyman horror icon Tony Todd in a cameo role as a mysteriously foreboding mortician.  

“He called me up and said they had got Tony Todd and I flipped out. He is an icon. Such a talented, serious actor.”  

As well as co-write the film, Wong took on directorial duties while each of the film’s death sequences would require careful planning, his first aim was to have the film start with a bang by creating as terrifyingly realistic a plane crash as possible.  

“We want to do for planes and air travel what Jaws did for sharks and swimming,” he declared in one interview.  

Yet the film would later garner criticism for its eerie similarities to the explosion and crash of TWA Flight 800 off East Moriches, Long Island, New York in 1996 where 16 students and five adults died.  

“There was some criticism that the movie was written to exploit this real-life crash,” Reddick recalls.  

“I even realised later they used footage from one real-life crash which I wasn’t particularly happy about.”  

Indeed, much of the news footage shown in the film actually came from the 1996 crash.  

That didn’t stop the film becoming a major hit and spawning a sequel within three years.   

Final Destination meets Game of Thrones  

Reddick returned to write the treatment for Final Destination 2, determined to move the franchise away from its teen Scream origins.   

“We had tapped into that zeitgeist and didn’t have to do that again. I wanted to expand the universe and subvert it, so I had it open by following a bunch of teens who are then killed off.”  

Once again, divine intervention led to divine inspiration for the opening set piece.  

“Originally, I was going to have it open with some kids going to spring break and they stop off at this hotel and there is a fire but the producers were not sure. Writers always say you should go out and live life – life informs you and a lot of inspiration comes out when I go out for a walk.  

“I was driving back to Kentucky to see my family and I got stuck behind a log truck and the idea just came to me. I pulled off the highway and called Craig and was flipping out with this idea for a log truck on a freeway.”  

The resulting freeway pile-up that leads to multiple deaths is one Reddick ranks as his “favourite scene in the entire franchise.”  

“The second film is my favourite. I wanted to create a sequel that didn’t feel like a remake of the first. It went in a more fun direction – but it’s still scary.”  

That first sequel also represented the last of which Reddick was formally involved in, though he remained very much in the loop as the Godfather of the franchise, revealing that producers had been “looking at scripts before Covid hit.” 

He also revealed that, at one point, things looked to be heading in an altogether different and thoroughly fascinating direction.  

“There was talk about setting a Final Destination back in Medieval times. Like Game of Thrones in Final Destination. Craig Perry worked with a writer and they talked about the idea and put a teaser trailer together [which has leaked online].   

“I would go and see that movie in a heartbeat but the studio said that the reason Final Destination was so popular was that element of deaths in normal, everyday situations.”  

Future Destinations  

Reddick hasn’t given up on a return to the franchise though, hinting at a “unique” idea he has for a new film that is simply too good to reveal yet.   

In the meantime, he has been busy writing and directing Don’t Look Back, a film that shares some surface similarities with Final Destination and is painfully relevant to society today.  

“It’s a mystery thriller about a group of people who witness someone getting fatally assaulted in a park and don’t help the person and somebody films them and puts it online. The public turns on the witnesses and someone or something is coming after them.”  

Eager to make more horror films and celebrate diversity in his work, Reddick remains immensely proud of Final Destination and the impact it has had on audiences.  

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

“It’s cool. To have one movie that is going to be talked about after you die is a life goal. If that’s what I leave behind as a legacy that’s enough – but I still want more.” 

Don’t Look Back is available on DVD & Digital from 14th June

The post How Final Destination Went From Real-Life Premonition to Horror Phenomenon appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3oUb1UD

[crystal-soba]

Susie x reader

. Susie's life hasn't been the same without you. She missed you every moment she spent in the realm of the entity. Sure she had her best friends with her, and she did have fun. But still she felt something missing from her life, she never told anyone for fear they'd think of her as weak. They'd tell her to move on and forget about you. And to some degree it made sense, if you were here that would mean that she would have to... No, she wouldn't. She could never hurt you. She needed you with her, she could feel her sanity draining with every moment of slashing and killing. If you were here it wouldn't matter to her. The group must have noticed her not so bright and cheerful mood lately. She sat on the edge of the broken railing for the balcony holding her knife and staring down at the snow. Alone. With no one around. The others were probably busy.

.You walked around with posters of your missing friends, Susie, Julie, Frank, and Joey. Other people assumed that they ran away, but you knew that they wouldn't leave you behind. Especially Susie, you missed her the most. The past few weeks were emotionally draining without her by your side. You weren't able to get an hour of sleep, you've missed days of school. The pain and nervousness caused you to throw up, you often get caught up in overthinking making the whole situation worse. It never stopped, what if they were dead. They might of been too reckless and crashed. Your panic came back, you needed a break.

.You sat on the bench Infront of the block busters. Your song came on. Well it was Susie's and your song, the song you were playing when you bumped into her. You couldn't help but remember the place you would meet her. The ski resort... The ski resort? You hadn't checked on it in a few weeks now, maybe she was there waiting for you. Although you never got a text back from the countless calls and messages you sent her, they might be at the abandoned resort.

.You ran to the resort, not stopping for a second to catch your breath. Your legs and arms begged you to take a break, but you didn't listen. As your lungs burned from the cold air you noticed the feeling of a strange aura coming from the area. The building felt stranger... empty. It looked the same, but it felt odd. The air felt off, not it's usual fresh self. You looked around the outside for any clues, nothing. And when you went inside you couldn't remember weather or not the building always looked this messed up... sure they got a little rough with some of the furniture, but now everything looked more frantic and speraticly thrown around. Maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you. You needed to rest, calm down for a second and have time to really think. Plus, maybe they'll come back at some point. Nothing wrong with trying. You started a fire with the small fireplace, luckily there was still a small box of matches on the mantle. No footprints, no sign of anyone being here, dust covered the box of matches you used to light the fire. It was unlikely they had been here.

.You stared Into the bright flame while over thinking again. All the horrible possibilities and explanations for the missing group. Susie would usually be able tell when you started to get like this, she'd calm you down no matter how hard or bad the anxiety got. Your not sure how long you could really make it through life without her. At this point she was the only person who cared about you. You relaid the moment of crashing into her in your head, closing your eyes. She was beautiful, her pink hair and wide smile. Eyes teal, pure and angelic. She was wearing her silver nose piercing and black choker with her nails painted black. It made your stomach fill with butterflies when she held her hand to you, when you accepted it she only widened her smile and showed her silver braces. And you probably looked like a stuttering mess the whole time. It was a nice few hours of ice skating with her on the pond a block away. Eventually you were introduced to her friends and they tolerated you. More and more hangouts and movie nights lead to the both of you to start dating. She's the beam of light through the dark night, your knight in shining armor.

.You slowly drifted off to sleep, the fire added to the only bit of comfort you had with thinking about Susie and the others. But your eyes got heavy and you felt tired, you couldn't stop the overwhelming exhaustion. Instead of fighting it, you let it take you. Hopefully bring you a few hours of sleep.

.Of course waking up in a wooden shack was not expected. You didn't understand who or what brought you to the rickety old wooden shack, but it wasn't good. You stood up and looked to see a basement next to you. You slowly walked down the creaking wood floor boards to figure an explanation. You peeked around the corner to see four meat hooks. Blood everywhere and the sound of screams coming from nowhere. Needles to say you ran out of the shack. You were still at the resort. Only it was darker, a brick snow covered wall surounded the area, and strangely placed walls with windows were put in strange spots. More meat hooks could be found scattered around the outside of the resort. Walking into the resort blood smears on the floor boards and strange pallets didn't exactly sit well with you. You ran outside past the locker room, in search of an exit.

.All you found was a large metal gate with a electric switch. You pulled the switch as hard as possible, it didn't budge. You sighed and started to look for a new exit. You did take the possibility of somehow climbing up the tall brick wall, but your thoughts were cut off from you when you heard something running towards you, your heart rate shot up with no explanation for why it's so loud. You of course booked it, not knowing where it is your running to but just running. Whoever it was, they were gaining on you.

."(Y/n)!?" The voice made you stop dead in your tracks. You whipped around to look back. "Susie?" A mask made of gaps of wire and nails, pink smooth hair, and a dirty Fairview hoodie with -1996- printed on. Definitely Susie no doubt. You both ran to each other, you knew your eyes were starting to water. She jumped into your arms as you caught her hips. She ripped of her mask and let it drop to the side, after weeks of not seeing her it almost felt like a dream to see her again. She seemed to agree as she leaned into a kiss. It felt like every burden you carried was lifted from your shoulder, every worry and guilt you've been feeling was cleansed.

.When you two stoped you both took a second to look at each other a second time. Her expected scent of her usual perfume had faded and instead smelt faintly like dried blood. You gave her a worried look when you saw the sleeves of her hoodie had blood stains. She gave you a soft smile and cupped hand to your cheek to show she was okay. Neither of you said anything as you walked into the resort. Of course the place looked about the same from when you you feel asleep, except for the occasional blood smear on the wall or floor. "...What...What happened." You were almost scared to ask.

.You both sat at the bar next to each other, most of the chairs were broken with either legs missing to be used for fire wood. "We all woke up here in the lodge together, but things felt different... We started to hear things. We started to see things. It's like a supernatural being called the Entity... It asked us to complete certain things, almost like a game. We weren't alone, another group called ''Survivors'' were there... Well we listened to what the entity told us to and..." She looked down at the floor, avoiding your gaze. She didn't have to say anything more about it for you to understand what happens next. You pulled her into a hug, letting her cling onto you.

."How is the rest of the group?" She took a second to think. "Well they're fine. It's like there's nothing wrong. The only thing wrong is when they don't do enough for the entity and it gets displeased with us. But they're fine." You nodded, you grabbed her hands to hold them in yours. They were cold and scratched up. "You look a bit tired. Do you ever sleep?" She had faint dark circles under her eyes, not makeup of course. She nodded "sometimes, I've been problems sleeping lately...I can't sleep unless your next to me..." Pink blush spread through her cheeks, the both of you cuddled but neither of you slept with each other. Your face also changed in hue, you weren't going to say no.

.You followed her up the stairs with broken pieces of railing and let her lead you to a private room. It wasn't much, but you can't expect a fully furnished room from this place. An old hotel bed with knife carvings covering the frame and a broken lamp. The lights didn't work and the walls wallpaper was starting to peel off. You guessed Frank or Joey must have punched a hole in the wall at some point, and graffiti covered one side of the room. "This is it. The only other place to sleep on is the couch downstairs." You nodded while starting to settle down with her in the bed. It dipped in the middle and the springs made it uncomfortable, the mattress could be compared to sleeping on the hardwood floor. But either way, it was a bed. You stared at the back of the door for a second, the word legion carved over and over again into the wood.

.It sent butterflies to be holding her as both of your breathing patterns synced together. You held her close to you, holding her waist with your legs tangled together. She had her face near your chest listening to your heart beat slowly beating to a march. Everything felt right, like nothing mattered more than the two of you. You didn't care if the group came back to see the both of you in such a soft moment. Everyone was safe, and really that's all that matters to you. You both felt the warm embrace of sleep follow as you played with each others hair silently. Before you went to sleep you could hear the faintest "I love you" slip from her mouth before she also fell asleep, it may have been the best nights sleep you have ever had. All the worry and anxiety left when you had each others company, everything would be alright as long as she was by your side.

[merakiclosed]

Wonwoo - My Light

》Pairing: Wonwoo x reader

》Summary:  Why was fate so cruel to bring two people with limited time together?

》Genre: Heavy angst, fluff if you squint, Non-idol

》Word count: 1617

》Notes/Warnings: Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with any of the following: terminal illness, major character deaths, not a happy ending.

If you want to make it more sad listen to Twenty One Pilots cover of cancer (i think it's sadder)

Tagged:  @lavforreal​ @shuatoyou​

Masterlist | All messages and requests are open <3

All rights reserved © Merakiiverse. Do not repost, translate, or claim as your own. 

He was only 20 when his life got taken. Too much to see, too many dreams. But he never got to accomplish them. Silent tears make their way down your face as you stand on top of the hospital building, the breeze kisses your skin in comfort. You know what today is, but you can't bring yourself to go there yet. The thought of seeing his family and friends. The thought of seeing him. Standing here as the sun descends should bring you comfort, he always enjoyed these times. Yet the soft rays only solidified reality. It was such a contrast than the white walls, and the suffocating smell of bleach. But the once bold colours, that hold so much life are dull.

Watching him, you see the light in his eyes as the sun casts a golden hue onto his face, a contrast to his sickly, pale skin. - Much like your own. He looks his age in this light, you realise. Carefree, the wind causing his hair to go haywire. But you can see the sheen of sweat covering his forehead and his sunken cheekbones. His arm that is around you provides warmth, snuggling deeper into him. “Where would you go on holiday?” The question showed how much he was wishing to be somewhere other than this deathly hospital.  

“Hmm. I would like to go to Hawaii.” You hummed.

“That would be nice, we would be able to properly see the sunset.” Closing your eyes, you can imagine being stood with him on the beach, the sand dancing in between your toes, the soft sound of the ocean. And for a second, everything would be alright. Just the two of you with nothing to worry about. But reality sets in with a honk of a car and the light cough that comes from you, his hand rubs your arm comfortingly.

“Where would you like to go?” You question, looking up at him. His eyes are soft when he looks at you, and with a small smile on his face he says, “Anywhere, as long as I’m with you.”

His arms are warm, wrapped around you as you laid on his bed. The doctors allowed you to move your beds in the same room, it wouldn't cause any harm. The sunlight filters around the room, the fan in the corner accompanying the sounds of the machines beeping. You both never talked seriously, it was too heavy on your hearts as you both know what was inevitable. As you lazily looked around the room, you found that he had more machines hooked up than last time creating a stab to your heart. This wasn't what love should look like.

“Would you say yes if I asked your hand in marriage?” His words shock you, but the thought of being with him forever, longer than this life you were given, causes butterflies in your stomach. Imagine falling asleep and waking up next to him, mini version of you and him running around the house. Laughter and shouts that would echo across the house. It sounds like a dream.

You nod, “Of course I would. I love you.”

He whispers the words back, “till death do us part.”

Your chest felt like it was being stabbed, your head spinning as you can feel bile rising in your throat. But you won't vomit. No, there's no time for that. Pain pulsates in your entire body, your heart beat rapid as it tries to pump as much blood as possible. You know you should go back to your room, call a doctor. But you won't. You don't want to die on a hospital bed, hooked up to multiple tubes and monitors just like he did. You wanted to stand here, where your last moments were shared. When you were happy.

Cold and bare your feet led you down the path, it was easy to get out of the hospital unnoticed. Your destination wasn't far, only a couple of minutes. You didn't care for the rocks and twigs that stabbed your feet, too busy with the memories that crashed in your head like a tsunami.

He wears a hat on his head this time, matching the one you adorn. His hair had been falling out in chunks, but you had already been prepared for him by buying couples hats. He laughed when you showed him it, a little note tucked inside, ‘couples who wear hats together stay together.’ You had always been goofy and happy around him, he was your light so you would be his.

Your fingers are tangled together, a strong hold on each other, almost like you'd lose each other at any given second. The stars were up, keeping the moon company. Wonwoo, even though he looks ill, was as handsome as ever. You can't stop yourself when you lean up and kiss his cheek, a small smile on both of your faces. He ponders for a moment before taking his phone out of his back pocket and plays soft piano music. Softly, he grabs your hand as you connect your hands around his neck, smiles not faltering for a second. Lightly you begin to sway to the music.

“I will always love you. Remember that.”

“And I will always love you.” The words you spoke were bittersweet on each of your tongues. He leans down to kiss you and like always fireworks erupt in your stomach as your heart pounds.

It's cut off quickly with a cough, his throat burns as he wheezes, blood accompanying the food coming out. He doesn't stop. Shouting of nurses and doctors that rush towards you both as he’s taken out of your arms. One last longing look at you and that's the first time you cry in front of him.  

Who knew that, that would have been the last time that you would see him.

You can see Wonwoo’s family, his mother shaking in her husband's grip, hearing her gut wrenching cry. Faintly, you can hear his dad, “he’s not in pain anymore. He loved you now and forever.” You couldn't agree more, he adored his parents and you hoped they liked you. They were so loving and caring, gushing over the both of you and sneaking in homemade food. It felt like a real family. Your feet are stuck to the ground, you'd break down if you saw them now. The coffin is lowered, the shiny gloss of black descending into the ground, somewhere in you is glad that you didn't see his face. - blank and void of life.

It felt like hours once you watched them walk away, your footsteps slow and hesitant, the leaves under your foot crunch. Softly, you graze your hand along his headstone, soft marble under your fingertips. The pain of knowing he’s here is overwhelming, the carving of his name, Jeon Wonwoo. Born 17th July 1996. Death 28th August 2016. Breathing out heavily you remember when he seemed so alive and free, the first time you met him.

Dying was a weird concept. It was inevitable to all, but some had shorter lives than others. How does that happen? Did they complete everything they wanted; dreams, goals? Some know when it's going to happen, some don't. That’s life, you guess. The good thing would be that no one would miss you. Your family never bothered to come and see you anyway. So, maybe dying wouldn't be a bad thing. Maybe you'd have a better life in the next world.

“You shouldn't be up here.”

“Yeah. Well neither should you.” you retort.

“It's beautiful, right? It feels like you’re on top of the world.”

The dying sun ignites the sky in a mix of amber and blood-red, causing your silhouette to seep behind you. Sadness pours into you, another day is lost in the circle of time. You can’t run away from fate. Maybe that's what dying would be like because when the sun has its last breath, somewhere in you, doesn’t want it to go and disappear.

“Yeah. It does feel like that” you breath, smiling for the first time in years. 

“I’m Wonwoo.”

“I’m Y/n.”

Your knees buckle underneath your weight, body feeling heavy as your lungs heave. Begging and pleading for more oxygen. Your once silent tears turn into sobs as your grieve. What did you both do to deserve this? Why did fate decide to bring you together? The both of you sick and ill, no treatments and no cures. You started to wonder, was it better or worse that you met him in these circumstances?

Feeling your lungs collapse, you finally fall to the floor. You reach your hand out to touch the tombstone, wishing that you were holding his hand instead. Panting, you find it hard to open your eyes, a singular tear escaping, with a small smile on your face, you whisper up into the sunset, “I told you that I would follow you, till death do us part”

And as you lay alone, with your heart gradually slowing you agree that it was better that in these miserable times he was with you for he was your light.

[storysofmyown]

Obey me! Scarred, Chapt. 9

Plot:  It’s time for the next step in Diavolo’s plan to unify the  realms. But, in order to work, the demons would be subjected to confront  their worst fears, and in some cases, who they are.  

Trigger Warning: Manipulation, some cussing

Word Count: 1996

Mc found themselves up in the human world. They stood right across from a coffee. The place looked like something that one would visit in France, some tables right at the side of the street with the shining sun looming over their head. The noise of the cars becoming overwhelming as they tried to figure out what was happening. One moment they were at the Devildom, the next here they were. Feeling the shining sun in forever. People were walking all around them. And although they should be overwhelmed with happiness being back at their world, it was all far too strange.

 Before they could even move from their spot. They closed their eyes taking a deep breath. It was different than what they had grown used to. Upon opening their eyes, they found themselves sitting in one of the tables, which had a small paper with their name and another name. Mc didn’t recognize it, but the name brought upon them comfort and warm. Like the name of the person one loves would, it rolled on their tongue like a name meant to bring peace. Mc looked up from the paper and right across the small table, there sat God.

 “Mc.” Was all he said with a curious smile on his lips. Eyes so white it made Mc uneasy. God starred down at Mc, the being seemed quite unbothered. For him, it might be just like meeting with an old friend to catch up. But for Mc, well, they were being faced by the known creator of all. Knowing damn well what he had done to his own daughter. Mc sat there, mouth slightly agape, hands shaking ever so slightly.

 “God?” Was all they could muster. God laughed.

“There is no need for such formalities here, we do not want any other human to hear us, do we?” God slightly looked around, and upon further inspection, Mc noticed some people starring at them. Perhaps it was because of the almost 9 feet man that sat there unbothered, or perhaps it was that since they had arrived there everyone seemed to be walking on eggshells. Almost like they knew they were being watched.

 “What…what should I c-call you?” Mc spoke softly, still not over their initial shock.

 “Whatever you would like. I go many names after all.” God started to stir his coffee with s mall spoon. Had he always had that coffee there? “The Africans call me something, the Asians another, the old native had me many names. You may know me as Zeus based on the Greeks, Brahma based on the Indians, The Nordic used to call me Odin. Some gave me other attributes, some divided me, some unified me.” For a moment he stopped, and even with all the people walking around, all Mc could hear was the sound of Gods voice and the spoon clicking against the cup. He sighed, before smiling again at Mc, cup now close to his lips.

 “I…uh, what?” Mc was confused, they looked at God once again. They could swear the being had just rolled their eyes.

 “If it makes you comfortable, you call me-”

 ¨What are we doing here?” Mc finally managed to ask. Eyes locking with Gods.  

 “I figured you would like to visit your own world. After all, you have been stuck in that wretched place far too long.” Mc thought for a moment about Gods choice of words. He had referred to the Devildom as a “wretched place”. It made Mc wonder why the being would even consider an alliance between the realms if that is how he saw the place.

 “I…guess so but…uh- wouldn’t people be suspicious of seeing you here? I mean…” Mc looked down for a moment. “You kind of standout…a little.” Mc’s voice was soft and trembling a little. They were nervous about this whole interaction. God only sighed, putting a hand on his temples.

 “Please, you actually believe any of those humans are smart enough to know I’m not like them?”

 “I…guess not.” God looked at Mc, a blank expression in his face before smiling, barely.

 “Besides.” He looked around. “It has been years since I last saw this world or any human, besides yourself. I was curious to see what had happen to it.” Mc would have expected to find a longing expression in Gods face. The expression of a father who was watching as his child’s accomplished their dreams but remembered them as little kids. Perhaps a nostalgic yet proud look. But no. The man had an expression between disgusted and no emotion at all.

 “Wait- any human? Weren’t there human exchange students in the Celestial Realm?” God seemed uninterested in this conversation. Only half committing to answering.

 “Ah, yes. Them.” God grunted, he seemed mildly annoyed at the mention of the humans. “I stayed out of their way. I figured they would not need to know me, in order to their year to be productive.” If there was a way to measure Gods annoyance level, Mc would be too afraid to use it because they were certain the seeing would be close to a hundred. If the way he was gripping the sides of the table was anything to go by, that was.

 Mc opted to stay silent. Their eyes scanning the place the were currently in. Mc was trying to figure where exactly they were. The sign of the place was no indication, since the letters were unreadable. Mc wondered if that was the owner’s fault or Gods, preventing them from knowing where they were so they wouldn’t run away or something. With every minute that passed Mc noticed the same people walking the same steps. The same lady walking her dog, the same man still smoking his cigarette. The delicate orange glow as the sunset fell upon them.

 Wait, sunset? When they started this conversation, it was still the middle of the day. Why had the sun set so quickly? Mc’s eyes fell on God, the being had his eyes stuck on Mc’s every move. It made them feel this nervous vibe set in the air.

 “Why am I here?” God placed his elbows on the table, leaning in, head resting in his palms as he watched Mc very intently.

 “Straight to business? Not even hoping for me to answer some questions that your kind would kill to have the answers to?” God starred at Mc in the eyes. Of course Mc was curious, there were thousands of burning questions in their mind, ever since Mc saw the man for the first time they had been more aware of the world around them and the life they were leading. It was a weird sensation. Mc had the answer to a question millions of peoples asked themselves. Is God real? They knew that answer. Not only did they know that, but they also knew what a terrible father the man was. “All in due time, deary. No need to hurry this encounter. After all, we are having such a great time.”

 “Answer my question.” Mc spoke firmly. Even if the being that sat across the table was God, they were not interested in playing his games. They wanted to know what was happening. Gods expression shifted. Their chill demeanor suddenly gave off this weird vibe as he starred fire into Mc’s soul.

 “Tone, child.” His voice was stern. Almost as that of a father punishing his own child for misbehaving. He scoffed, looking mildly annoyed. “You humans are so troublesome. I once considered destroying the whole place. Just as I created all of it, I could have turned it into cosmic dust or something with more use. But I opted to just stop intervening. And look how well that turned out? I literally had to do nothing, and this place is close to extinction.”

 Flashes of destruction became present in Mc’s mind. Volcanic eruptions, contamination, wars, death, blood, fire. All the images ran through Mc’s mind almost as if they were present in the moment. Like they were standing right there, as it all happened. Mc’s heartbeat was accelerated once the images stopped.

 “You have no idea, absolutely NONE about how much I enjoy hearing your pathetic selves cry for help.” God laughed, loudly. “The moment they know they have lost everything, and they cry for forgiveness. They call for ME! HAHA! Like I give a FUCK about them.” God kept laughing. The people around starring at the table as Mc’s hand were shaking. They wanted to be back at the devildom, now. “Humans, haha, what a joke. But sure, lets talk about why you are here. You see, human, I need you to do something for me.”

 “What? Do…something for you?”

 “Yes, yes. You see, the ball is tomorrow.” God reclined back into his chair. Taking the characteristically uncaring mannerism Mc had associated with the being to another level. “I want to talk to Mammon there. Think you could give him a heads up?”

 “Mammon?” God nodded. “What do you want with him?” Mc blurted out.

 “As I said, I just want to have a little chat with him. But since he is always with the others it will be practically impossible for me to reach him. Think you could do that?” Mc did not need to think about it, before their mind even processed why God might want to talk with Mammon words had already left their lips.

 “No.”

 “N…no?”

 “I will not help you traumatize another member of this family. You already hurt Beelzebulb and Satan by just talking to them.” Mc had a fire on their eyes. The fact that God thought Mc would help him get close to hurt someone they cared about was outstanding.

 “Is that so?” God sighed. “I was hoping you would be more…understanding. But I guess I’ll just have to find a way to reach Mammon tomorrow at the ball, on my own.” God stood up, looming over Mc as menacingly as possible.

 “Don’t you dare get close to him.” Mc slammed their hands on the table. Making the cups in it fall over. “I will not let you hurt him.” God turned around; a smile Mc was not able to see plastered on his lips. He had done it. He had planted the seed of worry on Mc’s mind.

 “It pains me to know you think I would never do anything to hurt my own son.” God sighed, or more like faked sighing. That much was evident to mc. “But at least now I know something.” He turned around, and all the bravery Mc had felt a second before while they were defending the people they loved so much came crashing at the hate in Gods face.

 Mc had seen that look before. They had seen it on Belphegors face after he had been freed from the attic, Mc had seen that same look on Lucifers eyes when the man found out Mc knew about the seventh brother. The difference? Even if it was dumb, Mc trusted those two demons. Even if they had tried to hurt them, they trusted the others will help. But here? Mc was alone, none of the demons were here to help them. They were powerless daring the possibly most powerful creature in the universe. But after the initial shock Mc recovered their composure. They were defending the people they considered now as family. And no amount of threats would make them back down.

 “And what is that?” Mc asked, the same furious tone as Gods.

 “Now I know where your loyalty lies.” Mc blinked, right in front of them was a mirror, their reflection starring right back at them. They looked around, recognition filling their worried heart s they let out a long sigh.

 “I’m back.” Mc spoke, with a hand over their chest, feeling themselves breath. That had been stressful. But now, now all they cared about was keeping the demons they cared so much about safe.

Aight! This chapter is a little different than the others. I wanted Mc to have some kind of interaction with God that was one on one. This could have been much longer and have Mc ask God a lot of stuff but it kind of felt...off somehow. I don’t know if its clear but Gods whole thought process here was “I need them to be out of my way when i go after the actual target.” And what better way to do that than having Mammon, a demon who will try to avoid Mc at every turn distract her. But, if y’all have any questions for God he might be up for answering them lmao. Also, don’t mind me being lazy and not actually giving him a name cuz none of the ones i came up with was good. Nonetheless i hope y’all enjoyed this chapter, and I’m not sure when the next one will be posted, but I’ll try my best for it to be before Friday lmao.

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven

Chapter eight

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

[particularemu]

Bad Guy | A Hwang Hyunjin Scenario

Prompts: 7 (Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy) 

Word Count: big ass fic (10,673)

Type: ANGST/FLUFF/SMUT

Warnings: Home intrusion, cursing, violence, smutty talk, suicide, mentions murder

Author’s Note: I won’t lie I’m going to miss writing this monster. 

I’m not taking requests from this list anymore because I reblogged a different one, but the prompts are from this prompt list.

Also, another note, I WILL NOT be writing fics this long for every prompt I get requests for. I just got mad inspiration when writing this one. 

You didn’t intend to fall for the bad boy in your neighborhood — no... it was as if a freight train hit you at 200 mph sending your mind straight into a frenzy of Hwang Hyunjin. 

The ebony-haired beauty was everything a girl could want in a man. He was beautiful, strong, protective, and over the past year, you found he had a wonderful personality. You were smitten with him as soon as you met him. 

The first time you met Hyunjin was at dinky little bar down the corner of 72nd street. You went out with a group of girls to celebrate your friend’s promotion, when your friend whispered, “Hey Y/N, that guy is staring at you.” 

Sure enough, when you glanced over your shoulder, Hyunjin’s eyes were focused on you, brown orbs looking you up and down before he turned and walked over to the pool tables. You couldn’t help but feel attracted to the stranger, but you were too nervous to go up and talk to him. After all, the boy was wearing ripped jeans, a leather jacket, a distressed T-shirt, and was sporting a pretty good scrape on his cheek. He didn’t look like the kind of guy you’d want to take home to your parents. 

This became even more clear when Hyunjin started to sweet-talk one of your friends. Great! So he was a fuckboy… That didn’t stop your raging hormones, nor did it stop you from wanting to walk up to him and offer to suck his dick. 

If you did — even though you knew full-well that you wouldn't — find the courage to strut up to the badass, you figured he’d shoot you down almost immediately. Sure, you looked good, but you didn’t really look like the other girls in the small bar. 

Suddenly, investing in a healthy collection of fishnet stockings and corset bustiers sounded like a good idea. Then you could look like that bitch Miranda, who had her boobs pushed up to her face thanks to the triple push-up bra she was sporting. Maybe then Hyunjin would be talking to you instead of her?

Your inner-turmoil managed to keep you occupied long enough for someone to slip some powder into your drink. The man had time to dump, stir, and walk in the amount of time you caught Hyunjin’s eyes in your direction. 

Shit! Were you staring too much? He must have noticed. You weren’t exactly being subtle. 

Well… perhaps the only way to play this off is to drink and pretend you were watching that super interesting pool game going on in the background. As soon as you grabbed your drink and placed the cold glass against your lips, you heard a man’s voice from across the bar. 

“Hey don’t drink that!” Hyunjin yelled from across the bar. 

Your eyes widened as you set the glass back on the table, trying hard not to be extremely attracted by the ebony-haired boy walking towards you. God he was beautiful — not that it mattered. 

Your chest tightened as you looked around the bar, trying to place who could have done something to your drink. In the movies, the guy would look like a drug dealer with face tattoos and beefy muscles. Unfortunately, you couldn’t find someone who fit the role in the bar. 

“What the fuck are you looking for?” Hyunjin’s brow creased as he slammed the glass to the floor, making you flinch. 

You huffed. “I’m looking for whoever drugged me.” 

Hyunjin merely chuckled and grabbed the jacket of a man sitting next to you. “Pay more attention to your surroundings and you just might find him.” 

Ok then… If Hyunjin could stop being an asshole for two seconds, you could explain that you were simply noticing that he has the perfect distance between his hairline and his eyebrows. 

Wait… no that’s weird. 

You backed away from the bar, watching Hyunjin pull the guy towards his face. “What did you have planned with her?”

The man grabbed Hyunjin’s hands, hoping to get the boy to release his iron-like grip. “I didn’t do anything!” He looked panicked. 

“Stop!” You felt horrible for the guy. He was just standing next to you drinking his beer the whole time. 

Hyunjin turned his head to you and snapped. “Shut up!” 

Now… You couldn’t exactly explain the logic behind your actions, but in that moment — and only in that exact moment — you thought it was a good idea to push yourself between the two furious men. So that’s exactly what you did. You somehow managed to slide your body underneath Hyunjin’s arms and push on his chest, hard enough for him to release his grip on the other man. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Hyunjin snapped, looming over you to appear intimidating. 

Your hands rested on his shoulders. “I’m trying to keep you from beating up an innocent man.” 

Hyunjin scoffed and spun you around, forcing you to look at the fallen man. As the man stood up to leave, a bag of powder fell out of his jacket pocket. The guy’s eyes widened as he picked up the bag and ran out of the bar. Hyunjin instantly let go of your arms and ran after the man. 

“Wait!” You called after Hyunjin and ran out of the bar, shivering as the cool air hit your skin. After turning the corner, you saw Hyunjin throwing something — you couldn’t quite make out what it was — down the alleyway. The large crash made you yelp, turning Hyunjin’s attention towards you. 

He sighed, rubbing his hands over his eyes before speaking in a soft voice. “I’m not going to hurt you.”  

You nodded and walked over to the beautiful, yet obviously frustrated, boy. “I’m so sorry I got in the way.” 

“Why did you step in the way? Do you know what could have happened to you if things escalated?” Hyunjin sighed once more. “How could you do such a stupid thing?”

“I was scared!” You blurted out, startling Hyunjin a bit. “I almost got drugged. The last thing I wanted to do was watch someone get hurt.” Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes. 

Oh no! You were NOT going to cry in front of the prettiest man on earth. 

Hyunjin chuckled and walked by you, pausing to place his hand on your shoulder. “Just pay more attention next time, yeah?” His hand slipped off your shoulder to slide in his pocket as the boy headed back to the bar. 

“Wait!” Hyunjin looked over his shoulder when he heard your voice. “Thank you.” You smiled at him, hoping your small thanks would brighten his mood. 

“You don’t need to thank me.” Hyunjin chuckled. “I’m no prince.” 

“Who are you then?” You were dying to know the pretty boy’s name. 

“Hwang Hyunjin.” He smirked and walked away, hoping you’d find your way home without getting into any trouble. 

You were pretty much head over heels in love with him since — which sounded real dumb considering the fact that you hadn’t known him long. Still… there was something about him. Something that told you that you’d be happy with the boy. 

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

The second time you saw Hyunjin was when you moved into his apartment complex. When you first moved out of your parent’s house, you couldn’t afford anything special, so you moved into an apartment building that was in — to put it nicely — a rough part of town. You figured you’d be safe because you were in a complex with many others… one being the infamous Hwang Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin happened to spot you when you were unloading boxes from your 1996 Subaru SVX, a piece of shit car that isn’t exactly worth bragging about. The boy couldn’t help but chuckle at your sad attempt at lifting a heavy box out of your vehicle. He watched you struggle from afar, before deciding it’d be best to help you out. 

“If it isn’t the troublemaker.” He chuckled, plucking a box from your hands. 

“I’m no troublemaker.” You couldn’t help but grin when you saw Hyunjin. The boy was just as beautiful as he was nearly a month ago. How did he remember you?

Hyunjin sighed, “Are you going to tell me what number you’re in or am I going to have to guess?

He couldn’t help but chuckle when the realization hit you, eyes going wide as you blurted out. “I’m so sorry. I live in apartment 3B.”

“Ah. That’s right across from me.” Hyunjin walked over to your apartment, setting the box onto the floor as you followed behind him. 

“Really?” You gawked. 

“Yeah. If you need anything, feel free to knock.” Hyunjin pointed towards his door across the hall. “I’m pretty handy with a hammer, and by the looks of it, you’re going to need one.��

He wasn’t wrong… You weren’t exactly the best at fixing things. Once you tried to help your father hang shelves, but you somehow missed the nail and slammed a hole in the wall with the hammer. You shivered at the memory of your father’s frustration. 

Of course, having a handsome handyman living across the hall wasn’t a bad thing. Now you had a handful of excuses to invite him over. Someday… somehow, you planned to woo the boy. 

But that’s besides the point. You were, in fact, really happy to have someone across the hall if something were to go wrong in this shitty apartment complex. You felt safe knowing he was there, even though he was a complete stranger. Well... it wasn’t as if he was a complete stranger. He protected you before — surely he’d do it again right?

Not that you planned on getting into trouble. 

“Are you done with your war flashbacks?” Hyunjin chuckled as he leaned against the door frame. “I plan to help you with the rest of your boxes, but I can’t help you if you’re just going to sit and stare at me.” 

Fuck he noticed. 

“I wasn’t having war flashbacks.” You lightly smacked him on the shoulder, making the tall boy giggle. Wow his giggles sounded so boy-ish… so happy. You couldn’t help but wonder what drove him to become a fight-happy drinker. 

“So you admit it?” Hyunjin picked up another heavy box. “You think I’m attractive.” 

“Fuck off.” Your cheeks flushed, making Hyunjin laugh. 

“Wow, you can’t hide it either.” He snickered some more. “Don’t worry sweetheart. I think you’re pretty cute too.” 

He thinks you’re cute? Yes! You couldn’t stop the dorky grin that took over your face.  

Hyunjin helped you unload the rest of the boxes, which you were EXTREMELY grateful for. You were five seconds away from leaving them in your car, figuring you had all the important stuff in your apartment already. Who needs post and pans? 

Oh yeah… People who eat. 

“Alright. That was everything from your car.” Hyunjin paused before reaching out to you. “Give me your phone.” 

“Why?” You questioned, handing over the device.

“Why do you think?” Hyunjin added his contact into your phone, then called himself so he would have your number. “If you need anything, give me a call.” He handed your phone back to you. 

Ok, so he thinks you’re cute AND you have his number. Fuck yeah! 

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.” You smiled at him, hoping he couldn’t figure out the nasty things you wanted to do to him behind closed doors. Your mind has the worst habit of thinking the dirtiest thoughts at the worst times. 

Hyunjin nodded and turned to leave, pausing when you held onto his sleeve. After a moment of silence, Hyunjin chuckled, “Is there something you wanted to ask me sweetheart?”

Fuck there’s that name again. He’s got to stop calling you that or you’ll combust. 

“Do you want to stay for dinner? It’s the least I could do after all you’ve done.” Your cheeks flushed. 

Hyunjin paused a minute before responding, “Thanks, but I already have plans tonight.”

You felt your heart drop into your stomach. Oh yeah — why wouldn’t a hot guy like him have plans? He probably had plans to go snag a girl for a quick fuck. 

Why couldn’t you be that girl?

Oh yeah — you’d be crushed if he only wanted you for one night. But what if once was enough? Maybe if you spent a glorious night with the boy, you’d get him out of your system. Then you wouldn’t be acting like a blushy teenager every time he looks at you. 

Before you could say anything else, Hyunjin left the apartment with a short wave and a “See ya around kiddo.” 

Kiddo? You were no kid. In fact, you were the opposite of a kid. The things you wanted to do to that boy were far from innocent. 

You sighed and plopped in the rickety dining room chair, yelping when the damn thing collapsed under your weight. 

This place was going to need a lot of work. 

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

Hwang Hyunjin was known for his charms and his dashing good looks. He could bring home any girl with a flirty pick up line and a wink — or so you assumed. You were never actually there when he convinced some poor girl to come home and fuck him. 

Well… Maybe he didn’t have to convince them. He had you wrapped around his finger and all he did was look at you, help you bring in boxes, and punch a guy out for you.

Over the next few months, you noticed him bringing girls to his apartment for, what you assumed was, hazy drunken sex. 

Fortunately, the two of you had gotten close. You asked the boy for his help fixing the sink in your apartment, and he happily obliged. Hyunjin ended up staying over for a while, making small talk, much to your surprise.

“So, Princess.” Hyunjin grunted as he hit his head on the cabinet making you snicker. “Oh hush.” He pouted. “You’ve done dumber things.” 

“Oh like what?” You giggled. 

“Like jumping between two fighting men when—” 

“Alright alright. I’ve apologized like eight times for that incident. Please don’t bring it up again.” 

Hyunjin laughed. “Fine fine. That’s fair. Anyways...” He couldn’t help but chuckle at your pouty face as he wiped the sweat off his brow. “Why’d a girl like you move out here?” 

God he looked way too good for a sweaty man in sweatpants and a hoodie. 

“A girl like me?” You crossed your arms. “I’m not a priss.” You tossed him a bottle of water from the fridge.

Hyunjin caught the bottle and unscrewed the lid. “Never said you were.” He took a sip of the water you handed him. “People like you usually don’t come here.” 

Of course you were aware that you didn’t fit into this town. After all, you came from a middle to high-class family. Your mother often gifted you with pretty jewelry and high-end clothes, so you could understand why you looked out of place in a town like that. 

Is that how he saw you? Nothing but a high-class priss looking to call daddy every time she needs something? Unfortunately, even if you did need help, you were positive your father wouldn’t come for you. Not after the way you left home. 

“Okay, I’m curious. Who do you think I am?” You cocked your eyebrow at him. 

Hyunjin laughed. “Look at you sweetheart.” He gestured to the picture of your family sitting on the counter. “You come from a nice family yeah?” 

Your cheeks flushed at the nickname that slipped past his lips so easily. “What about it?”

“Why wouldn’t you want to live in a place like the Northwest Hills?” He couldn’t help but laugh as he saw your whiteboard. The board had your chicken-scratch handwriting that read, ‘Get the lock fixed before the crazy neighbor murders me.’ 

“Is this your way of saying you’re worried about me?” You grinned, making the ebony haired boy’s cheeks flush red. 

“No, I just don’t get it.” Hyunjin sat on the dining room chair, taking another sip of water.

An awkward silence filled the room — the only sounds being the corny rom-com you had going in the living room, and the sound of Hyunjin’s soft breathing. Now that was a sound you could get used to hearing. 

Although you didn’t really feel like dumping your family problems on the boy, something about him seemed… approachable… comforting almost. Perhaps you could trust him with your deepest thoughts. 

“Just because we look like we have our shit together in that picture doesn’t mean we do.” You sighed. 

Hyunjin turned his attention to you, eyes practically begging for you to continue. “Yeah?”

“We’re actually pretty fucked up.” You turned the picture face-down. “My father cheated on my mom, my brother committed suicide last year, my mother drinks so much wine that she’s borderline an alcoholic, and I’m practically disowned.” You couldn’t help but chuckle. 

Hyunjin’s eyes widened at your words. “Oh…” He paused, trying to find the right words to say. “I’m sorry.” 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” You smiled at him. “There’s nothing I can do about it.” 

“Yeah but…” Hyunjin trailed off. He got up and stood next to you, leaning on the counter as he mumbled. “It must suck.” 

You leaned your head to the side, resting your forehead on his shoulder. The boy froze, muscles tightening as he awkwardly stood there in silence. Your hand bumped into his, suddenly thrusting you back into reality as you realized — oh shit… people don’t typically do that.

“Oh I’m sorry.” You pulled away from him. “You probably didn’t want to hear all that.” Your cheeks flushed bright red. 

Great! Now he thinks you’re crazy. 

“No I don’t mind.” Hyunjin smiled. “We all need to talk about our feelings sometimes.” 

I love you. 

Hyunjin chuckled, making you panic a little. Did you say that out loud?

“Quit giving me the heart-eyes.” He snickered. “If I ever need a confidence boost I’ll have to come over to your apartment.” 

“Shut the fuck up Hwang.” You shoved his shoulder. “I’m not giving you heart-eyes, I’m just surprised.” 

“At what?” Hyunjin smiled. 

You thought a moment before responding, “I didn’t think you had feelings.” 

“I have feelings.” Hyunjin dramatically gasped, pretending to be hurt. “I have lots of feelings.” 

Like love?

Hyunjin’s giggles died down. “Sweetheart?” 

Your heart panged in your chest at the sweet name. His voice sounded so small. Maybe — just maybe… he had the same feelings you did. Maybe he was going to confess?

“Yeah?”

“What happened between you and your parents?” Hyunjin’s curious eyes bore into yours, noticing the way your arms wrapped around yourself for comfort. 

“I don’t want to get into that.” You bit the inside of your lip. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright princess.” 

“Don’t call me that.” You snapped, startling the boy. 

“Alright.” Hyunjin lifted his hands up in surrender. “Sweetheart it is.” 

You rolled your eyes at him. “My name isn’t sweetheart either.” 

“Yeah, but it fits.” Hyunjin chuckled, leaning back in the chair. “Look, if you have an opportunity to make things right with your parents, you should.” He smiled, a somewhat sad expression taking over his typical carefree features. “I wish I had the opportunity to fix things with mine before the accident.”

Wait… Accident? 

“I’m so sorry Hyunjin.” You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed tight. 

“Woah! They’ve been gone for almost ten years!” Hyunjin scratched his head nervously. “It doesn’t bother me anymore.” He loosened your arms and lightly pushed your body away from his. He was pushing you away. 

Oh no you don’t. 

“It should.” You lightly smacked his shoulder. “Hyunjin that shit doesn’t just go away.” 

“Why are you so violent?” Hyunjin laughed when your cheeks flushed red. “I fixed your sink, you should be nice to me.” 

“You should stay over tonight.”

Wait what? 

Did that really just come out of your mouth? Did you really just ask him to stay the night. 

Hyunjin’s eyes widened. Clearly the inner dialogue in your head was going on in his as well. You couldn’t help but notice his tongue run across his lips before he chuckled. “See you later sweetheart.” 

Your heart shattered. He didn’t want you. He wanted every other girl in town, but he didn’t want you. 

Well fuck. 

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

An hour or so later, after drowning your sorrows in vanilla bean ice cream and Cheetos, you heard a knock at your door.

Who the fuck is coming over? You didn’t have friends in this godforsaken town. 

You grabbed the baseball bat by the door and swung it open, ready to beat down whoever was on the other side. 

Hyunjin merely grabbed the other end and tossed it in your room. “You invited me over and you’re going to beat me at the door?”

“What the fuck Hyunjin you scared me.” You rubbed your eyes, trying to calm your beating heart. “Why are you here?”

“You invited me, remember?” He chuckled. “For fixing your sink? I went to get snacks but it looks like you’ve started without me.” 

You were beyond confused. One minute he didn’t want to stay the night, and now he does? Did he seriously just take an hour to go get snacks and movies for the two of you?

“Hyunjin you’re ruining your bad boy image.” You sighed as he pulled out vanilla bean ice cream and shoved it in your freezer. “Wait? How did you know I love vanilla bean ice cream?”

Hyunjin snorted. “I didn’t. I like vanilla bean ice cream. After nearly hitting me with a bat, you don’t get any.” 

“Don’t be a jerk or I’ll take all the blankets.” 

“Not if I get to them first.” 

“What?” You giggled when Hyunjin ran to your bedroom and grabbed an armful of pillows and blankets from your bed. 

You followed behind, grabbing what was left on your bed and heading to the living room. Hyunjin tossed the blankets and pillows on the floor and slid your coffee table to the side of the room. You helped him scatter the bedding across the floor until you two were comfortably surrounded by cushions and blankets. 

The two of you picked a movie — well, more like you picked a corny rom com to watch and Hyunjin complained. Despite his protests, he seemed to be really into the film, constantly laughing at the stupid jokes and gasping when there was a plot twist. 

When that movie ended, Hyunjin picked a romantic drama film, cheeks flushing when you teased him about it. You two joked with each other throughout the movie, poking each other’s sides and hitting each other with pillows. 

You were having a great time with the boy — you really were… but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was going on. “Why’d you come over?” 

Hyunjin’s eyes widened a bit before scrunching up when he smiled. “You invited me over. Did you forget?” He ruffled your hair. 

He looked so happy. Has he always looked this happy? 

No… no he didn’t. When you met him at the bar, he had a permanent scowl plastered on his face. You never saw those lips turn up into a smile unless you were in the room. So maybe? Maybe you actually had a chance with the boy?

Okay, if you were going to test this out, you had to be slick, otherwise you’ll scare him away. While his attention was turned to the movie, you slid to the side slowly until your head rested on his shoulder. Bingo! 

“Are you getting tired?” Hyunjin lifted his arm and draped his arm across your shoulders, pulling you closer. 

Fuck yes. 

“No I’m just…” Fuck what do you say? “Tired.” 

Yep. That made you look intelligent. 

“That’s what I just said dumbass.” Hyunjin pulled you closer. 

“Let’s talk.” You mumbled. 

Hyunjin paused, wondering what you’d say. “What do you want to talk about sweetheart?”

“You.” 

Smooth.

Hyunjin chuckled at your honesty. “We’ve already talked about me. I want to know more about you.” 

You sat up and looked at him. “What do you want to know about me?” 

You had an idea of what he’d like to know, but you still weren’t sure you wanted to tell him about your family drama. 

“What’s your favorite color?” He asked, throwing you off guard. 

Really? That’s what he wanted to know? Okay, that’s better than you thought. 

“Pink. Yours?” 

“I like black and white.” He smiled. 

“Those aren’t colors.” You giggled. “Come on what color do you like? Green? Red? Blue?”

“I like black and white.” He repeated. “Those are colors.” 

The two of you sat and giggled about whether or not black was a real color before you guys hit a wall. Hyunjin’s head dropped back onto the pillows behind him, right as you slowly leaned onto his chest. The two of you laid in silence for a while, enjoying each other’s company before you decided to come clean. 

“Don’t talk for a minute.” You mumbled into his chest. The only response you received was his arm squeezing you closer to his body. “My brother used to be the favorite in our family.” You sighed. “I got in a fight with him before he died.” 

You could feel Hyunjin take a deep breath, thumb rubbing gentle circles in your arm as you spoke. “I told him that he was just a money-hungry rich boy who didn’t care about anyone but himself.” Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as you sniffled. “He committed suicide that night. My parents haven’t wanted anything to do with me since.” 

Hyunjin pulled you closer, adjusting your position so you were laying across his chest. Your small voice broke his heart. “Sweetheart, it wasn’t your fault.” 

“How was it not?” You sobbed. “He killed himself right after. Hyunjin I killed him.” 

Hyunjin sat up a little bit, pulling you closer to his chest when you started to shake. “Love, you didn’t kill him. You weren’t the reason he killed himself.” Hyunjin paused, trying to find the right words. “He was probably dealing with a lot more than he let on.” 

“He used to call me his little princess.” Your hand grasped his shirt, as if the thin cotton fabric would help bring you back to earth. 

Hyunjin’s heart dropped, guilt consuming him as he rubbed your back. “I’m sorry sweetheart.” 

If you weren’t so distraught over past demons, you’d probably be giddy. The bad boy in the neighborhood is holding you closer AND letting you snot in his chest, like… wow you were in love with him. 

Wow… you truly were in love with him. Was that weird? Were you moving too fast? You’ve only known the guy for like a week. He helped you a handful of times around the apartment and sat here all night watching movies with you. What were you to him?

The thought of being nothing to the ebony-haired man made you even more depressed. You pulled away from his embrace, wiping your tears away as Hyunjin moved closer. 

“Sorry I guess what they say is true. 2 AM truly is the honesty hour.” You chuckled, trying to hide your sniffles as you rubbed your eyes. 

“Hey…” Hyunjin’s concerned eyes watched for any signs of hesitance as he kept sliding closer to you. “Come here.” He reached his hand out. 

You sighed and rested your hand in his, allowing the boy to pull you into his embrace once more. 

“You and I are kindred spirits.” Hyunjin chuckled. “So I know you’ll make it through this.” He squeezed your body tighter. “You’re doing so well.” 

“M’not.” You mumbled, exhaustion beginning to take over your senses. Hyunjin’s body felt so nice and warm — so comfortable. You couldn’t help but sink into his embrace. 

Hyunjin laid you down onto the blankets and pillows, chuckling when you whined and reached for him. “I’m coming sweetheart. Don’t worry.” 

He laid beside you, pulling your body flush against his as his chin rested on your shoulder. “Is this okay?”

“Mhm.” You mumbled, leaning back into his embrace. 

The sounds of his gentle breathing mixed with the feeling of his body pressed against yours put you to sleep almost instantly. You could swear you felt his lips against your cheek before you drifted off, dreaming about a simpler life where you could be with him. 

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

Fortunately your breakdown that night didn’t scare Hyunjin off. In fact, he became a frequent visitor. Movie nights, game nights, and random dinners were common with the two of you. At some point, boundaries completely disappeared and Hyunjin started to just barge into your apartment whenever he needed something. 

Usually he was barging in after a fight, asking you for first aid supplies and a bag of frozen peas to ease the pain of his black eye. 

Speaking of barging in…

“Hey do you have some frozen peas?” You heard Hyunjin’s voice echo in the apartment as he strolled in.

“How many times have I told you to at least knock?” You pulled the peas out of your freezer, gasping when you saw his face. “Hyunjin what happened?” 

“Don’t worry it’s not serious.” He laughed and grabbed the peas, resting the bag over his black eye. 

You scoffed. “Not serious my ass. What did you do this time?”

“Some asshole wouldn’t take no for an answer so I shut him up.” He said matter of factly. “I’m not a fan of men who push themselves on women.” 

You shook your head and grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink. “You need to be careful. One of these days you’re not going to come back home and I-” You paused. 

“You what?” His eyes watched your every move, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

You wanted to confess, you really did. This would be a great opportunity to tell him that your friendship meant the world to you and you wouldn’t be able to live without him in your life. 

After that night you practically cuddled with him, your heart would go into overdrive when he came around. It had been a few months since then. You guys were constantly hanging out. You should tell him how you feel.  

“Who would fix my sink when it goes to shit?” 

Nice. 

Hyunjin threw his head back and laughed. “That’s what you’re worried about?” He chuckled. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll teach you how to fix things before I die.” 

“No you aren’t going to die. I’ll kill you if you do.” You poured some rubbing alcohol onto a cotton pad. 

“Sweetheart, your logic confuses me.” Hyunjin laughed. 

“Whatever, quit moving so I can fix your face.” The close proximity made your face heat up. He really was gorgeous. 

Hyunjin lowered the bag of frozen peas, showing you the rest of his battle wounds from the fight. He had a scratch over the bridge of his nose, a scrape over his eyebrow, and his lower lip was busted. Hyunjin winced when you pressed the cotton pad over his scrapes and scratches. 

“Does it hurt?” You asked. 

“Not too bad.” Hyunjin closed his eyes. 

“I mean, when you get into these fights. Do they hurt?” You had a feeling he’d respond with a sarcastic comment. You were surprised when he was honest. 

“Not really. I don’t feel it until after. In the moment, I’m usually trying to protect someone, so I usually don’t focus on how many hits I take.” His voice was small. 

You gasped dramatically. “So you don’t get into fights for fun?”

“Ha ha, very funny.” Hyunjin chuckled and shoved your shoulder making you drop the cotton pad on the floor. You quickly leaned down to go grab it, not realizing Hyunjin did the same thing. When you lifted your head to make a snide comment, your lips brushed against his. 

Your heart stopped as he froze, his plump lips gently resting upon yours. You could see his cheeks heat up as he pulled away. “I’m sorry. That was an accident.” 

“No it’s fine.” More than fine actually. Please come back. 

“I’m going to head home. Call if you need anything.” And just like that… he was gone. 

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

That accidental kiss was all that was on your mind the entire night. You’ve wanted to confess to the boy for months. Perhaps it was time? 

You weren’t sure if confessing would take your relationship to the next level, or if it would destroy your friendship. Either way, you knew it had to be done. Your heart longed for something more. The more you got to know the boy, the more you wanted him for yourself. Which led you to this moment. 

Your inner turmoil lead you to seek out some liquid courage. A bottle of wine later, you found yourself standing in front of the love of your life’s door. You pulled your hand up, ready to knock, until Hyunjin’s neighbor stepped out with her little dog. 

“Young lady, what are you doing out here dressed like that?” Mrs. Robertson shook her finger at you, scowling at your choice of attire. 

Yeah she had a point. You were out in a shitty apartment complex wearing just your shorts and a tank top. Your little outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination. But that didn’t matter. If the night went well, you wouldn’t be wearing anything soon. 

“I wanna see Hyunjin.” you slurred as you pulled your hand back to knock once more. 

“Honey.” Mrs. Robertson looked sad. “You don’t want to be messing with that boy. He’s no good for you.” She shook her head. “That boy constantly comes home with cuts and bruises. Do you really want to be with someone so violent?”

“I love him.” You mumbled. “I love him so much it hurts.” 

Mrs. Robertson looked disappointed. “Well, I’m just an old lady. What do I know?” She chuckled before exiting the apartment complex. 

Before you could knock, your mind started to wander. What if she was right? Hyunjin doesn’t hesitate to get into fights. Would he ever do that with you?

You could remember all the times Hyunjin stuck up for you. He went out of his way to make sure you were safe and happy. If you ever needed anything he’d be there, no questions asked. After all the nice things he’s done for you, you found it hard to believe he’d ever hurt you. 

Fuck it.  

You knocked anyways. 

You couldn't stop the wide grin that took over your face when Hyunjin opened the door. Seeing his beautiful face after daydreaming about him all night made you want to kiss him even more. Hyunjin’s brows creased when he saw how obviously drunk you were. 

“What on earth are you doing here?” He chuckled a bit as his eyes raked over your body. “Go home and get some clothes on, you dork.” He ruffled your hair. 

“No.” You nearly fell forward, making the boy reach out and hold your arms so you could steady yourself. You went with the flow and wrapped your arm around his shoulders. “I want you.” You paused for a second, trying to find the right words. ���I don’t care what happens in the morning. I want to be with you tonight.” You pressed your lips against Hyunjin’s. 

Hyunjin grabbed your hips and pushed you away, causing you to fall backwards onto your butt. For a second you saw worry flash in his eyes, but the look of concern was quickly replaced with something you couldn’t quite place… Hurt? Disgust? You couldn’t tell, but you knew exactly how he felt when he said, “Get out.” 

Hyunjin immediately shut the door on you, leaving you heart-broken and dizzy on the floor. You couldn’t believe he shut the door on you. Your stubborn side came out and you stood up, knocking on the door once more. 

Hyunjin opened and immediately lifted you over his shoulder, making you yelp in surprise. He walked right over to your apartment and opened the door, walking over to your bedroom. Hyunjin tossed you on the mattress and tucked you in bed, ignoring your pleas for him to do something — anything to let you know that he wasn’t upset. 

“Hyunjin please!” You reached out to him as he walked away. “I love you. Please don’t leave me.” 

Hyunjin paused, looking over his shoulder before saying, “I could never love someone like you.” 

“Why?” You sobbed. You didn’t understand. The two of you got along so well. You were positive he felt the same.

“I could never love someone who murders their own brother.” 

Ouch.

Your heart completely shattered in your chest as you watched him walk out. You fell back in bed, mind blank as you heard the door to Hyunjin’s apartment slam shut as he left to do what he always does when he’s upset. He went to drink and start a fight. 

Tears ran down your cheeks as your mind played through the amazing memories you shared with Hyunjin. All those great memories couldn’t have been for nothing. If he really hated you because of what you did to your brother, he wouldn’t have been friends with you for this long right?

Maybe it was wishful thinking? Maybe you were being stupid? You were praying that all of this would end up being a dream. Why can’t you wake up from this nightmare?

Your mind raced and raced as you cried in your pillow, praying that Hyunjin would come back and comfort you. You cried until exhaustion took over, helping you drift off to sleep. 

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

CRASH! 

You gasped and sat up in your bed, sweat trickling down your brow as you listened for an intruder. The door creaked in the living room, quiet footsteps echoing throughout the small apartment. Pure panic took over your senses as the footsteps moved closer to your bedroom door. 

Fuck what do you do?

Sure it could be Hyunjin… but after that stunt you pulled tonight, you’d be surprised if he even wanted to talk to you again. 

Your hands ran along the sheets, hoping to feel the familiar plastic case your phone was in, but your phone was nowhere to be found. Shit! You couldn’t even call or text anyone. If you screamed for Hyunjin, the intruder would hear. 

The apartment complex was shitty. It wasn’t likely that anyone was coming to steal. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this guy was some sort of murderer, coming to take you from the world for all the stupid shit you’ve done to Hyunjin over the past year. 

The doorknob turned. You moved faster than you ever have before, sliding off the bed and pushing your body underneath the bed frame. Hopefully this serial killer would assume no one’s home and leave. 

Your heart beat against your chest so hard, you were wondering if he could hear it form the other side of the door. The door opened, and you saw two muddy-ass boots step into the room. You clamped your hand over your mouth as tears rolled down your cheeks.

This was it. 

You were going to die. 

The man walked around the bedroom, pausing to knock a picture frame to the ground. 

That fucker. 

A picture of you and Hyunjin slid underneath the bed, reminding you of everything that happened between you two. While the man was going through your underwear drawer, you pulled the picture towards you, tracing your thumb over Hyunjin’s smiley face. You prayed that you’d survive the night so you could see his face again, even if it was just to apologize for your reckless behavior. 

A loud crash startled you. More tears rolled down your cheeks when you saw your jewelry box, shattered on the floor. Your jewelry wasn’t the most expensive things you could find in a store, but they still had value. The man picked up everything, from the cheap Claire’s jewelry to the fifty year old ring your grandmother gave you when she passed. 

You yelped when the man made eye contact, an evil grin taking over his features as he grabbed your arms and pulled you out from under the bed. You screamed, but he clamped his hand over your mouth. “What do we have here?” The man snarled. “Don’t you look pretty?”

Tears ran down your cheeks as you pushed on his hand, trying — and failing — to get away from him. You felt his nose running across your neck, breath ghosting across your skin as he inhaled your scent. “You smell nice princess.” 

He threw you to the floor. You cried out in pain as your head hit the dresser, the corner cutting your forehead. You could feel the blood drip down your face. Head wounds bleed a lot. If you did make it out of this alive, this was going to be a bitch to clean up. 

You couldn’t help but wonder why no one came to investigate. Your screams weren’t quiet. 

“Someone help me! Hyunjin please.” You screamed, only to be kicked in the stomach. 

“So you’re Hyunjin’s girl?” He smirked. What? How did this man know Hyunjin? You shouldn’t be surprised considering the man was known for hanging out with the wrong crowd, but you couldn’t imagine him being friends with such a horrible human being. 

Hwang Hyunjin wasn’t like the other horrible men in that town. He was kind and caring. The dude got into fights to protect young unsuspecting women at the bar. He wasn’t a bad man. 

A picture frame flying across the room, nearly hitting your head making you realize that — shit, you really had it bad. There was a man robbing you blind and you were sitting here thinking of Hwang Hyunjin. You wanted him to randomly show up and beat this fucker up, but deep down you knew that wasn’t going to happen. 

After all, he was pissed off after your little stunt earlier. That’s probably why he’s choosing to remain in his room, oblivious to it all. 

“You have more valuables than this. Where are they?” The man growled as he pulled slid everything off of your dresser, various glass knick knacks shattering on the hardwood floor. 

“I don’t have any more.” You wrapped your arms around yourself. You didn’t. The asshole probably already found your phone and laptop. There wasn’t much else in that apartment that had value. 

The robber grabbed you by your hair, yanking you up in front of his face. The incessant burning in your scalp made you whimper in pain, tears rolling down your cheeks. Your hands pushed on his as you tried to get away from him, but he was too strong. “Where are they?!”

You cried out in pain before yelling “My laptop! My laptop is all I have left. It’s on the couch.” You sobbed, hand shakily pointing to the living room. “Please don’t hurt me.” You begged. 

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t lie to me princess.” 

That fucking pet name... 

Suddenly a brute force knocked you into the dresser. Were you just punched? You could make out a slight stinging in your cheek, but otherwise you felt fuzzy. It felt as though your brain was shaking in your head. You couldn’t make out anything other than the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. 

A kick to your leg brought you back from the dizziness, sudden pain taking over your senses. It was as if someone flipped a switch, allowing you to feel all the pain at once. Your hands rested over your thigh, hoping the soft rubbing would soothe the pain. You heard the robber say something, but what was it?

Next thing you knew he was gone, and it was only you laying on the floor, attempting to regain some form of control over your body. You felt confused. You felt alone. Your mind wandered — once again — to the ebony haired boy you fell in love with... the one who broke your heart.

How on earth did Hyunjin go through so many fights? That shit was painful. As if on cue, your head started to throb. You weren’t even hit multiple times. How was he able to withstand all that pain? Especially for someone else?

Why did he want to protect every other girl in town except you?

Anxiety hit you suddenly, leaving you sobbing uncontrollably on the floor. You were just robbed. You could have been murdered. What if the man comes back? What if he wants to beat you more? What if he wants to kill you so you can’t go to the police?

Where was Hyunjin?

God, you can’t even go five minutes without thinking about Hyunjin. You wanted — no, NEEDED to see him. Even if it was just for a moment. Despite the little disagreement you guys had earlier, he had to be there for you right? You’ve patched him up several times. Surely he’d at least help you now?

You slowly stood up, wincing when your head started to spin. You couldn’t really focus on anything, so you ended up stumbling across broken glass  and bumping into everything in your apartment, but you still ended up in front of Hyunjin’s door. 

You slowly lifted your hand and knocked three times. “Hyunjin? Are you there?” You sniffled. Jesus you sounded horrible. You knocked once more. “Please be there.” Your voice was small as you banged on the door once more. 

So he wasn’t home.

It was a bittersweet feeling. Hyunjin wasn’t ignoring your cries for help, like everyone else in that apartment complex. He was just out. But still, you felt conflicted. 

You sunk down the door and sobbed as the emotions hit you. Your whole body hurt, you were scared and alone, and all you wanted was Hyunjin. 

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?” Hyunjin rushed to your side. “Oh my god, sweetheart who did this?” His hands rested on your cheeks, eyes filled with a mixture of anger and concern. 

You opened your mouth, but no sound would come out. Your chest felt tight as you started to hyperventilate. You wanted to hug him — hold him, but you couldn’t get your body to move. 

“Sweetheart? What happened?” Hyunjin’s eyes went wide when he saw your feet, cut-up and bloody from the broken glass on the floor. “Okay, we’ll talk about it inside. Let’s go.” 

You threw your arms around his shoulders, sobbing when his arms wrapped around your back. This was all you wanted. To feel safe in his arms. 

“Let me unlock the door.” Hyunjin quickly unlocked the door with one hand and carried you inside. One hand left your waist to turn the lock once more after he kicked the door shut with his foot.

You sniffled as you looked around the apartment. Despite being close with the boy over the last year, you never went to his place. He always barged into yours, claiming it was more homey. 

Hyunjin’s apartment was fixed up nice, furnished with nice furniture and decorated with various vases, house plants, and a cute little dog dancing around his feet. 

How the fuck did he manage to get such a nice apartment? Well… he was pretty handy. Hyunjin probably fixed this place up on his own over the years. The apartment looked like the ones you’d see in the expensive apartment complexes. 

When Hyunjin set you down in his bed you couldn’t help but panic. Your hand darted out grabbing his. 

As Hyunjin set you down on the bed, you felt yourself panic. Your hand darted out, grabbing his when he went to leave the room. 

“Hey it’s okay. You’re okay.” Hyunjin rubbed your back gently. “I need to get the first aid kit.” 

“Stay with me.” Your voice broke his heart. 

“I have to leave for one second sweetheart. I just need to get the first aid kit, then I’ll be back. I won’t leave your side after I clean you up okay?” Hyunjin’s voice was so soft, sweet, and caring. Your hand slid out of his, allowing the boy to rush over to his bathroom. 

You rested on the bed while Hyunjin rummaged through the bathroom for the first aid kit, anxiety bubbling in your chest as you waited for him to return. What was going to happen? You thought Hyunjin didn’t like you… Why was he acting so loving?

“Got it!” Hyunjin rushed back into the room, eyes widening when he saw the blood on the mattress. “Oh my god you’re bleeding a lot. Hold on sweetheart, I’ll get you fixed up.” 

You panicked when you saw the blood on his blanket. “Oh my god I’m so sorry.” You broke down, sobbing as your thumb ran over the blood spots on the blanket. 

“Sweetheart it’s okay!” Hyunjin pulled you into his arms, gently rocking you back and forth as he tried to talk you through your little panic attack. “Breathe for me baby. Breathe with me.” He pulled your arms up around his neck, coaxing you to straddle his hips. His hands rested on either side of your face as he took deep breaths, hoping you’d follow his lead.  

“You’re okay love.” He wrapped his arms around your lower back, pulling you closer to his body. “It’s okay. You’re safe with me. I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

“I was so scared.” You whimpered. “It hurt so bad.” 

Hyunjin’s eyes closed as he listened to your sobs. “You were so brave. You did so good sweetheart.” 

“I’m not strong like you.” You held him tighter. 

“You shouldn’t have to be.” Hyunjin whispered in your ear. “I’m only strong because I have someone to protect.” 

“Who?” You wondered who he was so desperate to protect. 

Hyunjin merely chuckled and gently rested you on the bed. “Let me clean your cuts.” 

“Hyunjin.” You grabbed his collar, pulling him closer. “Who?”

Hyunjin pursed his lips and pulled your hands off his collar. “Let me clean you up first. Then we’ll talk.” 

What on earth does he want to talk about? All you wanted to know was whether or not he was in love with someone else. Sure, him loving another woman would suck, but at least you knew he didn’t hate you. 

Well… that was pretty obvious by the way he was taking care of you. 

His soft hands pulled your foot onto his lap as he poured some rubbing alcohol onto a cotton pad. You winced when he pressed the pad to your foot, the sharp sting making you yelp in pain. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart.” Hyunjin shot you a concerned look. “It’ll be over soon.” 

Once he finished fixing you up, he allowed you to sit up and collect your thoughts. He wanted nothing more than to dart to your side and pull you close, but he knew you were probably confused. 

“Who?”

Hyunjin couldn’t help but chuckle when you asked once more. “Are you an owl love?”

“Dammit Hyunjin!” You shoved his shoulder, eyes tearing up once more. “You can’t tell me I’m a horrible person and then treat me like this.” You sniffled and wiped your tears.

“It hurt when you left.” Tears rolled down your cheek as you recalled the painful memories. “You told me you’d protect me.” You sobbed. 

You knew it was unfair to blame him for the night’s events, but you were upset with him. It wasn’t fair for him to play with your feelings like this. 

“Baby, I’m sorry.” Hyunjin teared up as he rested his hand on your thigh. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.” 

Your eyes widened as a tear fell down his cheek.

“You were never supposed to get hurt.” He wiped his cheek. “I left you so I wouldn’t hurt you anymore.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Baby.” Hyunjin’s voice was soft. “You think I didn’t notice? You always looked so upset when I came over for first aid.” 

“Because I don’t want you dead in a ditch!” You straddled his hips, resting his cheeks in your hands. “I love you dammit.” 

Please love me back... 

Suddenly, Hyunjin’s lips were on yours. The hands that were resting on your waist were now pulling you closer to him as his soft lips danced with yours. 

You could hear a muffled. “I love you,” against your lips as Hyunjin kissed you passionately. 

“Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy.” You mumbled against his lips. “You’re so sweet.” 

I’m glad you think so.” Hyunjin chuckled and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. “Look at me love.” Hyunjin tilted your chin up, smiling when your eyes met his. “I need you to tell me what happened so I can fix this.” 

“You don’t need to fix anything.” You leaned into his chest, enjoying the feeling of his arms around your waist. “Please just stay with me. Don’t do anything.” You pressed a kiss to his lips. “Just love me.” 

“I do love you.” Hyunjin kissed you. “But that man hurt the one I love.” He kissed you once more. “The one I want to protect the most.” 

“Hyunjin please don’t.” You pulled him closer to your chest. “Just stay.” You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. 

“Just tell me what happened.” He leaned forward into your touch, resting his head against your chest. “I’ll stay. Just tell me what he did to you.” 

“He broke in and tried to take all my stuff.” Your head shook a couple times as memories from the robbery flooded your brain. 

Hyunjin chuckled a bit against your skin as he pressed soft kisses to your collarbone. “Why didn’t you just let him take everything love?”

His eyes widened when he felt you shake in his arms. “I did. He hit me anyways.” 

“Shhhhh. You’re safe now.” He pressed soft kisses up your neck, trying to distract you from your thoughts. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not again.” 

You felt shivers up your spine as Hyunjin pressed sloppy kisses along your neck. His hands ran along your back as you unconsciously ground your hips against his, coaxing a quiet moan from the boy. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Hyunjin’s doe eyes watched yours. “We can wait. You’ve been through a lot.” 

“No.” You pressed your lips against his. “I want this.” Your hips shifted once more. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” 

Hyunjin chuckled at your confession. “How long?”

“Since I met you at the bar.” You kissed him again. “I’ve loved you ever since.” 

You gasped when Hyunjin pushed you down onto his groin. You could feel how hard he was through his jeans as the rough fabric rubbed across your groin. “Please I can’t wait anymore.” You moaned when Hyunjin lifted your tank top over your head, leaving your breasts bare before his wandering eyes. 

“You’re just as beautiful as I thought you’d be.” Hyunjin’s cheeks flushed as he leaned forward, taking one of your nipples in his mouth. His tongue swirled around the bud, giving one gentle suck before releasing your nipple. Your back arched into his touch as his hands gently squeezed your breasts, until he leaned forward, dropping you onto the mattress below. 

Hyunjin hovered over you, pressing soft kisses to your lips. His tongue ran across your lower lip, slipping into your mouth with ease when you parted your lips. Feeling his tongue swipe against yours sent your body into overdrive. You moaned into his mouth, back arching into his body as you wrapped your legs around him. 

Hyunjin sat up, pulling your legs away from him before he spotted the large bruise on your left thigh. He leaned down, softly running his index finger around the dark purple bruise. “This looks painful.” 

“It’s fine.” You smiled at him. “Trust me Hyunjin. Everything’s fine. I have you now.” You reached up to him, untucking the shirt from his jeans. “Please get your clothes off so I can stop imagining what your body looks like.” 

Hyunjin threw his head back and laughed, a high-pitched, boyish giggle echoing throughout the room. “What have you been imagining?”

Your cheeks flushed red, sending the boy into another fit of giggles. “I don’t know…” 

“Okay, if you tell me what that mind of yours has daydreamed, I’ll take off a piece of clothing.” Hyunjin smirked. 

“I’ve been through a lot.” You pouted. “Are you really going to force me through this mental trauma.” 

Hyunjin chuckled and pulled your shorts and underwear off in one go, making you flush and close your legs. “If you want me just as naked as you are, you’ll do it.” 

“I imagine you have abs?” You questioned, reaching for his shirt. 

Hyunjin laughed and pulled his shirt off, revealing a toned stomach, yet no abs. “Sorry to disappoint my dear. I eat too much to have abs.” 

“Fuck you.” You leaned up and ran your hand along his stomach. “You eat like a garbage disposal. How the fuck are you this thin?”

“I can thank my genetics for a fast metabolism.” He laughed and kissed your forehead. “What next?”

You flushed as you thought about his thighs and how much you wanted to run your hands along them. “You have muscular thighs?”

“Do you think I’m some beefcake?” He giggled as he pulled his pants down, revealing fairly thin, but muscular thighs. 

“Oh hush.” Your fingertips ran along his thighs, making the boy visibly shiver underneath your fingertips. “You’re beautiful.” 

Hyunjin flushed red. “Thanks, but you’re prettier.” 

It was your turn to flush bright red. You giggled as you hooked your fingers in his boxers, ready to pull them down until he grabbed your hands in his. “Ah ah ah. We had a deal.” 

Hyunjin smirked when you stuttered. “You… um…” 

Hyunjin couldn’t help but chuckle. “Let me give you a hint. I’m not average sized.” 

Oh that’s big dick energy right there. 

“You have a massive cock.” You giggled as the embarrassment hit you. “God it feels so weird to say that.” 

Hyunjin laughed. “You’re adorable.” He pulled down his boxers, allowing his pretty cock to spring up. 

Yep… Hyunjin was pretty large. If you had to guess, he was probably 7 ish inches. The boy’s dick was long and fairly thin, but you could tell that he’d fill you up just right. 

“You’re hot.” you blurted out, facepalming when you realized how juvenile you sounded. “You’re sexy. You’re beautiful... You…” 

“Thanks for all the compliments, but tonight is about you.” Hyunjin smirked and crawled up the bed until he was hovering over you. He kissed you softly before resting his forehead against yours. “Are you sure you want this?” 

“Yes baby, I already said yes. Please, I need you.” You pulled him closer, kissing him deeply. 

Hyunjin parted, kissing your forehead before whispering, “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t hurt me.” You ran your hand along his cheek. “I’m not made of glass.” 

“No sweetheart.” Hyunjin rested his forehead against yours once more. “You were beaten like an hour ago. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Baby.” You brushed his bangs out of his face. “I’m not made of glass.” You repeated. “I’ll be okay.” 

Hyunjin nodded and connected your lips in a soft kiss. You moaned as he kissed down your body, hooking your thighs over his shoulders. You shivered in anticipation as Hyunjin’s breath ghosted over your core — each puff of breath sending waves of arousal coursing through you. 

“Fuck Hyunjin please.” You moaned. “I’ve waited so long for you.” 

Hyunjin smirked and mumbled, “You don’t have to wait anymore.” 

As soon as the words left his lips, he dove into your folds, causing you to jerk and moan underneath his tongue. He slurped loudly at your clit as his hands held your hips down. Hyunjin smirked as he pulled away. “What do you think baby? Am I as good as you imagined I would be?”

You let out a loud moan, hands tangling in his hair as you replied, “Even better.” 

Hyunjin dove back in, rolling his tongue across your clit as your thighs shook on either side of his head. His tongue worked magic on your core while your hands dug into his scalp, scratching lightly. He could tell you were getting close, so he pulled away, making you groan in frustration. 

“Why did you stop?” You panted. 

“I want you to cum around my cock.” Hyunjin crawled up your body and hovered over you, resting his hips against yours. You could feel his hard cock press against your folds as he leaned down to kiss your lips. “Are you sure -”

“For the love of god yes!” You snapped. 

“Fine.” Hyunjin snapped his hips into yours, shoving his entire length inside you in one go. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, loud moans escaping your lips when he set a harsh pace. Your hands practically clawed at his back, trying to hold on as he moved against you. 

Finally, after one whole year of daydreaming and hoping you’d end up with Hwang Hyunjin, you had him to yourself… and his eyes were only for you. The boy’s hips slammed against yours, the tip of his cock ramming into your cervix with each thrust. You felt so close to him, yet you wanted more. “Please Hyunjin, I’m close.” 

“Me too.” Hyunjin grunted, long eyelashes drifting shut as he shifted his hips, allowing his cock to hit your g-spot. You reached between your bodies, rubbing your clit frantically as you chased your release. “I’m cumming.” you gasped. “Oh!” You clenched around Hyunjin, milking him into his own orgasm as he continued to thrust, helping you ride out your high. 

Hyunjin pulled out and slowly lowered his body on top of yours. The boy’s hair tickled your nose, making you giggle as you ran your fingers through the ebony locks. 

“What are you laughing about?” Hyunjin looked up at you, a soft smile gracing his lips. 

“Nothing.” You smiled. “I love you.” You watched the boy’s eyes close as you scratched at his scalp lightly. 

“Mmmm. That feels good.” Hyunjin smiled and kissed your collarbone. 

You continued running your fingers through his hair. “Jinnie?”

Hyunjin looked up at you and cocked an eyebrow. “That’s new.” Your cheeks flushed as you suddenly got shy. 

“Sorry, uh. Hyunjin.” Your eyes met his, nearly making you a puddle of mush on the bed. 

“I never said I didn’t like it.” He smiled at you before rolling off your body and pulling you on top of his. 

Being on his chest was amazing. You nearly forgot what you were going to ask him, until he asked, “What did you want to ask love?” 

He ran his hands across your back, as your arms wrapped around him. “You have no idea how much I love you. You won’t leave me right?”

You were beyond tired at this point, half-asleep as you mumbled the words into his chest. You wondered if he ever heard you. After hearing your boyfriend beam and kiss your cheek, you figured he heard you just fine. 

“Want to know the truth?” Hyunjin whispered in your ear.

“Mhmm.” You mumbled as you started to drift off. 

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I would never leave you.”

[tblpress]

The day before James Spader won an Emmy for his portrayal of Alan Shore, the morally dubious lawyer on “The Practice,” the actor was at the Franklin D. Murphy Sculpture Garden at UCLA, admiring the statues -- especially the female forms. “Look at the beautiful curve of her back, right at the base of her spine,” he said, noticing a dancer at the top of Robert Graham’s “Dance Columns.” “It’s the most perfect curve in nature.” Then Spader felt a breeze and started ambling in the other direction. “I just want to walk into it,” he explained. “Oh, my God, that is nice.”

The sculpture garden, a favorite hideaway of Spader’s, brought out in him a charming mix of formality and earthiness. When Gaston Lachaise’s bronze powerhouse “Standing Woman” caught his eye, the memories rushed out. “My sons, when they were growing up, always enjoyed her rather ample” -- here he used a word not proper for this newspaper but that means “derriere” -- “and her rather ample breasts,” he said. The boys, Sebastian, now 15, and Ellijah, 12, would come here with their scooters. “So you come around,” Spader explained, “and lo and behold, you have that beautiful” -- that word again -- “over there. You can hardly resist scootering by and giving her a poke. She has nice calves too. She’s ample everywhere. She’s spectacular.”

James Spader, network TV star: To anyone familiar with the 44-year-old actor and his work, it sounds almost absurd. With the outre air of highbrow naughtiness and deep but slightly distracted intelligence he’s been known for since his 1989 big-screen breakthrough in “sex, lies, and videotape,” Spader could hardly have cooked up a more improbable career move. And yet starting tonight on “Boston Legal,” the new David E. Kelley show spun off from “The Practice,” TV viewers will get a weekly taste of the actor who has specialized in finding an endearing human side to wealthy school bullies, creepy cocaine dealers and sensuous sadomasochists.

Spader headed toward a section of the UCLA campus blanketed by California sycamores that he and his sons, he said, often climb and swing from. “See that?” he asked, pushing a branch down. “This is a perfect perching spot. I’d do it more aggressively, but there’s people around and it makes them nervous.”

Making people nervous is, of course, a Spader trademark.

“When we first went to the network about James, they shrieked in horror,” Kelley said. “James Spader is not a network face. They didn’t think he was the kind of persona American audiences would want to welcome into the living room on a weekly basis. But once we began to focus on him, he was the only choice. What James does so well is there’s a nucleus to this character that is humane and decent. He manages to let that nucleus shine through even when he’s committing egregious, contemptible acts. You don’t know if you like him or not, but you can’t wait to see him next.”

Kelley hired Spader to play the brilliant agitator whose dirty ways forced the firm of Young, Frutt and Berluti on “The Practice” to close its doors last year, after ABC slashed the show’s budget, forcing Kelley to fire half his cast. Spader, whose most recent television appearance had been a guest spot on “Seinfeld” in 1997, was supposed to play Alan Shore only long enough to shake things up.

“The goal in the beginning was to bring new life to the show, and the luxury we had as storytellers was that we didn’t have to protect the character for the sake of a long series run,” Kelley said. “You can only do so many things with a character that are overtly unlikable and still keep him redeeming and a character that people want to tune into and cheer for. Since we didn’t have that burden, we could swing away with him.”

The high-end firm of Crane, Poole and Schmidt might prove a better fit for Shore, who will be surrounded by other conniving legal eagles, including William Shatner as his boss, Denny Crane, and colleagues played by a cast including Rhona Mitra, Lake Bell, Monica Potter and Mark Valley. Alan Shore, Kelley promised, will “defy this law firm as he defies the conventions of regular characters on television.”

“When we watch James, there’s a lot of unknown complicated stuff in his mind, but we don’t know what that stuff is,” said Steve Shainberg, who directed Spader in “Secretary” (2002). “There’s something very unusual about him we can’t put our finger on, but that makes it more intriguing and exciting -- God help us.”

Yet for all the unpredictability that comes across on screen, Spader’s “Boston Legal” co-stars described him as meticulous, exact and particular on set.

“He’s always looking for the truth of the moment, and he gets fidgety when it’s not there,” said Shatner, who won a guest actor Emmy for his portrayal of Crane on “The Practice.” “He becomes as recalcitrant as a donkey until he can find the right way to deliver a line. He never says a word that doesn’t seem to come from the organic character. That’s because James himself is a little weird. But we love him for it.”

The Un-Brat Pack career

Two days after Spader nabbed the top acting award for a drama series, beating out television heavy hitters James Gandolfini, Martin Sheen, Kiefer Sutherland and Anthony LaPaglia, he was on the “Boston Legal” set at Raleigh Studios in Manhattan Beach. Three episodes of the show were being shot simultaneously, and he had found no time yet to contemplate his win. The Emmy, he said, was tucked away in a corner full of boxes as Spader, who recently separated from his wife, Victoria, waited to move into a new house.

“I was surprised at how quickly I lost the feeling of stunned confusion and ignorant bliss and how quickly it turned into work and pragmatism,” Spader said. “The award doesn’t mean anything to me -- and I don’t mean that in a derogatory sense. I just haven’t had time to go there yet. Even when my older son called to congratulate me, we moved rather swiftly on to the subject of an upcoming concert” -- the Pixies at the Greek Theatre -- “and the best way to score tickets, which is a much more constructive conversation for us.”

Like other actors who started taking shape in the ‘80s, Spader could easily have cultivated a Brat Pack aura. Instead, he went for a more original brand of alienation, playing seemingly WASPY characters with a devious air and an anti-WASPY erotic charge to them. The roles he took in movies such as “White Palace” (1990), “The Music of Chance” (1993), “Stargate” (1994) and “Crash” (1996) didn’t always hit big but always set him apart -- none more so than “Secretary,” in which Spader played E. Edward Grey, a lawyer who draws his self-mutilating young secretary into a joyful S&M; relationship.

“James is very formal and specific and respectful,” said Maggie Gyllenhaal, his costar. “I remember when we shot a five-page scene in which Mr. Grey asks me not to cut myself anymore, James noticed and responded to everything I did: every breath I took, every shift of my gaze, every movement of my hand. His work is very specific.”

And that, according to Camryn Manheim, who starred on “The Practice” for eight years, can be intimidating. “After you saw ‘Secretary,’ wouldn’t you be scared to go on a date with him?” Manheim said, laughing.

“I was scared of him,” she added. “He’s weird and strange and eccentric, and I mean a lot of that in the very best way. He plays all of these sexually charged characters. He looks at you too hard, like he’s got your number. But behind all of that, he’s a very simple man who is very thoughtful and insightful about the world and humanity.”

Confronted with the praise of his colleagues, Spader took a deep breath and looked skeptical. “Maybe this thing they are describing is just obsessive-compulsive. It just seems to be what the job is, to just try and get the right intention of whatever ... you’re saying. Who is to say if whether what you end up tumbling toward is the right place when you’re standing on your feet in the middle of it? I’ve had a lot of fun acting, and that’s been the only reason to continue doing it.”

Spader, who dropped out of the 11th grade to pursue acting in New York, attributes his interest in acting to the love of storytelling he inherited from his family. The son of teachers Todd and Jean Spader, the actor grew up with two sisters on the campus of Phillips Academy, a fancy Massachusetts prep school. “My father was an English teacher and he taught literature and poetry, and my parents would read aloud and my grandparents read aloud,” Spader said. “My grandfather would write stories and we would make up little plays to read and perform during the holidays. There was always a tremendous amount of humor in all the households I spent time in.”

But there were other reasons for wanting to become an actor. “I started doing theater when I started thinking of nothing but girls,” he said. “I can’t imagine that the two don’t relate. I don’t mean to be glib. In sports and in many other areas, girls and boys are separated. But in theater, you’re all mixed in together. How can it get any better than that?”

Being an actor, for Spader, has never been about celebrity. The press tent for interviews with winners at the Emmys came as a surprise and an “indignity,” he said jokingly. When someone at the Governors Ball on Emmy night remarked how rare it is that Spader has succeeded at being famous and simultaneously living a private life, the actor was incredulous.

“I don’t try to be mysterious,” Spader explained later. “I just protect my private life very carefully. I don’t go out a great deal. To see and be seen I could care less about. I don’t go to see movies at big premieres. If I go out, I go to a quiet place for a meal or I might go to listen to live music with a whole lot of people who are more interested in listening to the music than who is sitting next to them at the show.”

His new TV world

Spader may be on his way to television stardom, but he has never followed a television show from beginning to end -- the way he hopes viewers of “Boston Legal” will.

“That’s something I had no concept of,” Spader said. “Working on the show, I was experiencing the same anticipation for what was going to happen from week to week as the people who were watching it. When you do a film, you know what is going to happen to your character from start to finish. I knew very little about Alan Shore at the end of last season, and I still don’t. I like that constant shift because what I like the most about all of this is the telling of the story.”

What he likes the least is the fuss. He refused to hire a stylist for Emmy night, picking out his tuxedo and shoes himself. He did not prepare a speech. When his name was announced, Spader charmed the crowd by complimenting the women in the room: “You’ve all made wonderful choices in shoes and dresses tonight, and you all look absolutely beautiful.”

“I realized I was going to have to put together some sentences quickly and I wasn’t going to be yet another person to make a music joke,” Spader said. “It worked so well when the gentleman from ‘Arrested Development’ made the singing reference, but I knew that that couldn’t be used again, and certainly not by me. I really don’t have any idea what ... I was saying. Certainly, during the course of the four hours that I was there I had spent enough time admiring women’s shoes and dresses and how well they filled them.”

But as offhand as he may be about that trophy, it’s fitting somehow that Spader will be in the rare position of starting his new gig already having won an Emmy for the role. To his surprise as much as anyone’s, the TV gods have smiled on him. “Does anybody have any illusions about the fact that the Emmys come at the beginning of the television season? The timing seems precise to me,” he said. “And I think it’s grand.”

[nctbythemoon]

     hello,  hello,  fellow  aliens  !  you  can  call  me  nochu  n  i  reside  on  the  gmt+1  timezone  (  i  was  hella  confused  for  a  moment  about  openin,  i’m  not  very  smart  )  .  either  way,  my  discord  is  𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙞'𝙢 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙨𝙝#6348  so  if  you  rather  there  ...  ya  know,  i’m  all  in  !  either  way,  hang  with  me  while  i  try  to  uncover  this  paradox

     ˙✫*ﾟJEON JUNGKOOK,  MALE  ,  HE/HIM  :･ did  you  hear atlas moon is  joining  the  cast  of  exposed  after  word of an orgy house party  was  revealed  ?  the  twenty-four  year  old  musician  with 10m is  trying  to  clear  their  name  .  they've  become  known  as  the  resident  bohemian  in  the  mansion  ,  and  it's  clear  that's  spot  on  because  they're  quite -  obsessive & -  possessive ,  but  also +  charismatic &  +  creative .  you  know  they're  heading  to  the  confession  booth  if  you  hear  if you can’t hang  by  sleeping with sirens  blasting  ,  most  likely  talking  about  how  they're  more  than half  tattooed  sleeves  enlaced  with  intoxicated  drinks  and  loud  music,  quiet  studios  filled  with  troubling  thoughts,  empty  hospitals  at  5am,  half  -  drunk  whiskey  bottles  and  unfinished  manuscripts  with  coffee  stains .

          triggers  might  include  :  heavy  drugs,  schizophrenia,  anxiety,  neglect,  toxic  relationship,  attempted  suicide,  death

full  name  :  moon  joonhyun

nicknames  /  stage  name  :  atlas  moon,  moon,  moonie

age  :  twenty  -  four

date  of  birth  :  april  25th  1996

zodiac  sign  :  taurus  sun,  capricorn  moon,  gemini  rising

place  of  birth  :  busan,  south  korea

occupation  :  songwriter  /  singer  /  performer

claims  :  patrick  stump  (  fall  out  boy  ),  jungkook’s  covers  (  because  ...  they’re  gorge  )

tattoos  :  jungkook’s  tattoos  (  reference,  reference,  reference  )

piercings  :  tongue  piercing

romantic  orientation  :  panromantic

sexual  orientation  :  demiromantic

mental  illness  :  schizophrenia,  anxiety

     brief  family  history  (  triggers  :  schizophrenia,  anxiety,  neglect,  attempt  suicide,  death  )

unlike  many  think,  atlas  was  born  in  south  korea  ;  youngest  to  of  three  ,  one  could  discuss  the  moon’s  were  never  truly  happy  .  since  early  age  atlas  was  forced  to  understand  his  mother  was  extremely  ill  and  that  most  were  times  where  she  would  express  her  anger  towards  him  than  love  .  but  whatever  love  wasn’t  given,  it  was  replaced  by  the  many  nannies  and  many  material  items  they  were  drowned  with

their  father  was  always  too  busy  working,  merging  with  international  companies  and  searching  for  the  best  medical  treatments  for  his  mother  ,  so  they  barely  saw  him  either  ,  finding  comfort  with  each  other  and  the  maids  ,  trying  to  grow  apart  from  that  world  that  was  his  mother’s.  yet  it  was  quite  impossible  ,  as  the  several  treatments  pulled  them  apart  from  korea  and  all  over  the  world  .  but  alas,  his  mother’s  health  was  more  important

schizophrenia  trigger  //  but  something  felt  odd  to  atlas  and  it  started  very  early  as  well  .  however  busy  his  mind  seemed  to  be  with  other  things  ,  voices  ,  energies  ,  always  seemed  to  pull  him  to  his  mother’s  room  .  not  in  search  of  love  ,  of  comfort  ,  but  in  pure  hatred  .  he  couldn’t  help  it  ,  these  voices  and  delusions  mostly  told  him  to  end  the  family’s  issue  ;  and  one  day  ,  he  tried  ,  finally  caving  to  them  .  but  at  the  same  time  ,  he  wasn’t  ready  to  see  what  he  saw

attempt  suicide  trigger  //  blood  ,  all  red  ,  against  the  purest  of  skins  .  atlas  was  only  seven  years  old  when  he  found  his  mother  trying  to  commit  suicide  .  for  the  next  ten  minutes  ,  he  stood  there  ,  unable  to  think  through  .  and  then  ,  a  shout  ,  but  not  belonging  to  him  .  his  older  brother  was  quick  ,  oh  so  quick  ,  to  cover  his  eyes  and  pull  him  out  of  the  room  ,  but  the  damage  was  done  :  atlas  had  been  in  there  for  to  long  .  his  father,  a  strict  but  caring  man  ,  was  quick  to  hire  a  therapist  for  his  youngest  ,  but  oh  ,  how  many  more  trouble  would  that  arise  

schizophrenia  trigger  //   the  voices  .  when  someone  asks  you  what  made  you  go  to  that  room  ,  when  being  told  since  birth  not  to  ,  the  last  thing  you  should  answer  is  the  voices  .  but  a  young  child  like  atlas  did  intend  to  lie  ,  did  not  know  it  wasn’t  normal  .  nor  the  therapist  ever  told  him  directly  ,  scribbling  away  on  her  notepad  ,  but  later  ,  much  later  ,  after  several  testing  ,  the  terrible  words  were  spoken  .  joohyun  is  schizophrenic  .  yes  ,  like  his  mother  .  it  was  more  than  his  father  could  take  .  one  ?  he  could  handle  .  but  two  ?  no  boy  of  his  would  have  it  .  atlas  was  then  sent  to  psychiatric  hospital  ,  away  from  everyone

atlas  spent  seven  years  on  that  hospital  (  from  7  to  14  )  ,  alone  and  isolated  from  the  world  .  the  only  people  he  came  in  contact  with  were  the  maids  and  his  elder  brothers  when  they  could  escape  ,  but  his  father  never  visited  .  that  grew  resent  and  strain  in  their  relationship  ,  but  atlas  found  peace  in  the  two  things  the  hospital  supported  :  drawing  and  music  .  self  -  taught  himself  to  play  the  piano  and  guitar  and  took  weekly  violin  classes,  to  better  express  his  hatred  and  less  than  ideal  emotions  .  in  a  way  ,  he  was  the  best  -  behaved  patient  they  had  and  with  some  convincing  and  medication  ,  the  hospital  convinced  his  father  to  give  him  home  again  ,  to  let  him  live  a  normal  life  .  he  finally  accepted

death  trigger  //  there  was  a  catch  ,  however  .  the  only  reason  why  he  was  allowed  home  was  because  his  mother  had  passed  .  despite  hating  everything  about  his  father  ,  he  attended  the  funeral  out  of  respect  for  his  brothers,  promising  himself  he  would  never  let  his  life  out  of  control  like  his  mother  had  .  he  was  enrolled  in  the  same  private  school  as  his  brothers  and  the  three  agreed  to  conceal  the  fact  he  had  spent  the  last  7  years  in  an  “  asylum  “  and  he  adapted  pretty  decently

his  social  skills  weren’t  as  damaged  as  he  thought  and  he  got  himself  involved  with  sports  and  art  ,  forming  the  band  would  become  fallen  ,  making  sure  he  kept  up  with  his  studies  ,  but  again  ,  tragedy  struck  again

death  trigger  //  his  older  brother  ,  liam  ,  was  killed  in  a  car  accident  ,  taking  all  the  breath  and  floor  from  atlas  .  their  elder  sibling  had  always  taken  care  of  them  ,  making  sure  the  communication  between  him  and  his  father  were  clean  ,  among  many  other  things  ,  and  it  was  gone  .  atlas  took  it  very  personally  ,  going  without  his  medication  and  resorting  to  other  ways  to  numb  that  pain  ,  almost  failing  to  graduate  .  his  life  turned  around  in  2  seconds  and  his  father  finally  was  ready  to  send  him  back  to  the  hospital  ,  but  this  time  ,  atlas  was  ready

leaving  home  was  one  of  the  best  decisions  he  took  ,  crashing  at  one  of  his  bandmate’s  homes  .  this  situation  only  lasted  a  couple  of  months  ,  as  a  scout  found  them  in  one  of  their  underground  performances  and  was  quick  to  sign  them  .  atlas  quickly  kept  spiraling  down

     thus  the  orgy  story  ...

it  wasn’t  meant  to  blow  up  .  whenever  his  brother’s  death  comes  around  ,  he  does  anything  to  just  stop  the  pain  .  he  knows  very  well  he  can’t  use  drugs  to  the  point  of  overdosing  but  he  also  can’t  deal  with  himself  .  not  when  his  own  illness  feeds  into  his  pain  ,  increasing  ,  especially  if  he  drops  his  meds  .  which  he  does  ,  too  often  .  he  was  a  little  too  high  when  a  phone  was  turned  on  ,  he  didn’t  realized  that  flash  was  of  someone  filming  ,  taking  pictures  ,  and  his  pleased  smile  just  becomes  so  much  prominent  among  warm  bodies  and  loud  sounds  .  was  his  label  even  surprised  ?  not  anymore  ,  but  they  needed  to  improve  his  image  .  fast  .

     small  details  about  his  personality  ?

he  doesn’t  take  his  meds  .  nope  .  but  if  you  tell  him  to  take  his  meds  ?  he’s  gonna  sulk  all  day

not  that  many  people  know  he  suffers  from  it

doesn’t  like  shoes  for  life  of  it  .  if  he  can  go  barefoot  ?  he  will  ,  without  a  second  thought

much  life  of  the  party  ,  much  nice  and  much  liking  to  have  fun  ,  however  his  mood  falls  really  quick  out  of  nowhere  ;  check  him  locking  himself  in  his  room  if  this  happens  ?  he  doesn’t  allow  anyone  to  see  him  like  that

will  kill  for  his  friends

his  fans  are  his  family  ;  cares  so  deeply  for  them  ,  loves  interacting  with  them  ,  just  overall  thriving

black  clothes  ,  black  hair  ,  black  everything

tattoos  are  his  healing  process

     well  ,  this  sucked  so  much  ,  please  bare  with  me  ,  i  promise  i  plot  good  (  do  u  rlly  ,  nochu  )  .  SO  .  yea  .  do  it  .

[creativeashproductions]

What If...? III // Alive!Luke Patterson

Summary: The aftermath of both the car accident and the proposal is something Luke struggles with dividing you two for the first time. With an ultimatum in place Luke finds himself standing in front of his childhood home but can he open the door he had locked and shut?

Warning: Swearing, talk of injuries, self-guilt, angst, Unsaid Emily (I’m a terrible person), and fluff (I SWEAR THERE IS FLUFF IN THIS)

Words: 4.0k

Requested: By @beautifulblogsblog . There will be two more parts at least.

A/N: Grammarly estimates that this will take a little over 15 minutes to read. I also almost made you not get an answer to a make or break question somewhere in here but I wanted to make up for the cliffhanger in part one.

*Bobby’s last name in this is Willis, it will come clear why soon.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist (other parts for What If can be found in the masterlist)

(This goddamn shirt is also a warning holy christ)

Hollywood 1996

Life after the car accident was strange, to say the least. You lived with the guilt that your father couldn’t pick up a guitar. He had severely broken his arm in the crash in the instinctive moment to protect you. Your mother hovered, and Luke was there, but something changed since his hospital proposal.

There was a weird tension between you and him that concerned Alex because Luke wouldn’t talk about it. He would change the subject whenever Alex inquired about that empty ring box he found. Luke hadn’t told the guys he planned to propose and being rejected wasn’t something he wanted to share. However, one night he finally did.

“You could propose at the Eiffel Tower!” Reggie suggested having seen a commercial with the tower in the background. His excitement was visible to the band members in the living room.

 “Too cheesy.” Luke grumbled, rolling his eyes slouching down on the couch, “I’m not proposing.”

“I understand it’s a big step b-“

“I’m not proposing because I already did.” Luke snapped running hand through his messy hair with a glower. Alex was quiet, taking in the news and watching Luke’s body language.

“Oh congrat-“

“Read the damn room.” Luke snapped, slamming his pen on the coffee table as he stalked up the stairs to his bedroom. The resounding slam of his door marking his anger more prominent. Alex flinched at the sound.

“Was it something-“

“Seriously man?” Alex groaned, shaking his head at the bassist standing up from the armchair leaving the bassist the lone sitter, “You are so lucky you can play bass.”

Alex left Reggie downstairs to enter Luke’s room where he was throwing darts at the board harshly. Luke didn’t need to turn around to know Alex was in his personal place with one goal in mind, to cheer his bandmate up.

“What happened?” Alex asked, sitting in the second-hand office chair with a hole in the seat. His blue eyes watching the jerky movements from the obviously frustrated guitarist.

“She said no.” Luke whispered, rubbing a hand over his weary hazel eyes, more of a blue with the sadness he felt, “I proposed, and she said no.”

“I’m sorry. Did Y/N say why?” Alex hesitated to ask the question fearing Luke would fully snap as he had down a few times in the past. The one time was when he found Alex crying as an asshole overheard Alex admit to his crush on Jonathan Taylor Thomas after seeing him on Home Improvement. Courtesy of Luke, that asshole never breathed a word about it.

“An ultimatum. She won’t say yes until I fix things with my parents.” Luke sighed collapsing onto his bed, staring at the blue ceiling. Going back home after hurting his mom was something hard to do.

The night he left had been filled with a lot of words he regretted saying, he can’t even remember the last time he told his mom he loved her. The last time dinner hadn’t been tense and filled with anger. There was a pang of deep guilt for running out on his family, his mother and seeing the missing person posters further hammered the guilt in.

“She has a point.” Alex admitted, “We made it. We proved to our parents that this band was worth it. Take it from me. I would give anything for my parents to be the way they were before I told them I’m gay.”

Luke was quiet.

“You have a chance to fix things and Luke, that’s something you’ll regret. Remember the night of The Orpheum? We were gonna get street dogs? If we had, we would have died man.”

“I guess we got lucky?” Luke half-smiled remembering when they had been walking near the Orpheum a few days after performing.

The guy that sold the street dogs was arrested, and an ambulance was taking a couple to the hospital. The couple died, and it made the guys think how close they could have come to dying all the times they ate out of the Oldsmobile.

“We did. She loves you, Luke, but if you love her. You’ll reach out to your parents. I know they would love it.” Alex spoke, squeezing his best friends’ shoulder before he let himself out of the bedroom.

Alex joined Reggie in the living room watching a VHS they had rented from Blockbuster this morning. A smile appearing on Alex’s face as the muted familiar sound of a guitar came from upstairs. The sad melody Luke had taught his band playing.

“So, what year do you think we should release a country album? I can play the banjo.” Reggie asked, looking over at Alex with a thoughtful expression, “I’ve been writing this wicked song. I’m thinking of calling it ‘Home is Where My Horse Is’? How long would it take you to learn how to fiddle?”

“Reggie. I love you man, but I am not gonna be barefoot in overalls fiddling.” Alex spoke, shaking his head at his bandmate who pouted softly.

Alex and Reggie fell asleep on the couch that night while Luke worked tirelessly through the night on Unsaid Emily. It was by far the most personal song he had ever written, but it was the only way he could release the feelings he had. By the time morning came, his eyes had turned bloodshot and swollen.

Luke’s hands trembled at the sight of the childhood home he hadn’t been inside in months, not since that cold December night he left. The car was parked in the very same spot with the front bumper still dinged from when Luke was practising for his license.

Luke had developed a streak to avoid the bitter taste of disappointment from his parents. He would sneak out to gigs or little known locations with Alex; either for the band and his secret relationship. Luke never breathed a word of the relationship for the safety of Alex and avoid anything that would spike his boyfriend’s anxiety. The guilt died down when he and Alex mutually decided to be friends instead, but the band topic was different. At fourteen it was becoming apparent to Luke’s parents that this band wasn’t a hobby to him anymore, the first time his parents regretted buying the guitar.

“C’mon!” Bobby hissed from the safety of the curb. Luke was behind the wheel of his family’s station wagon in the dead of night. Reggie stationed in front of the car and Alex behind it, “This is stupid guys!”

Luke shakily took a breath in putting the car in drive to align with Reggie before he placed the vehicle in reverse. Learning to parallel park seemed to be going well as Luke did okay pulling into the parking spot. He got ahead of himself; however, when he moved to drive forward to center between Reggie and Alex. He may have hit the gas too hard.

“Ah!” Reggie screamed as the car bumped in him in the leg. The boy went down shuddering while his three friends hurried to his side.

“Are you okay?” Luke asked not minding the sting of the asphalt on his covered knees seeing as he just hit his best friend.

“I’m good.” Reggie raised one thumb in the air. Each boy leaned back in relief confirming the bassist was as good as Reginald could be.

 “Why the hell didn’t you move out of the way?” Luke demanded helping the boy up from the ground with a deep frown.

 “I was a traffic cone. Cones can’t move unless they get moved.” Reggie proudly announced with his typical oblivious attitude. Reggie wasn’t stupid, he was definitely the comedic relief in the band and prided himself on it.

“I-what. Okay..” Alex whispered to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Sometimes I don’t know Reg.”

Reggie shrugged it off while a familiar girl jogged down the road with a furrowed brow, a girl that had lived in Luke’s neighbourhood for a while. She was moving to a bigger house soon, but she was an acquaintance that had never acknowledged the group.

“Are you okay?” The girl, you, questioned the bassist scanning him over as Luke stared dreamily at her. His ever-changing eye colour turning a soft mossy green at the girl that had held his heart for years; only temporarily vacating it for Alex.

“Oh, totally. This doesn’t hurt as much as the amp.” Reggie supplied waving it off whereas you were more worried the guy hit his head. Your gaze scanned the boys of Riot Curve. A deep developing on the pale cheeks of the Patterson boy.

“Aren’t you guys in my grade?” You questioned pursing your lips together, “You’d be like thirteen. Why are you driving? Aren’t you a little short to see over the steering wheel?”

A bark of laughter fell from Bobby Willis’ mouth, earning him a glance from you, closing his mouth as Luke’s look of disgust.

“I’m not short!” Luke shouted, “I’ll have you know I grew!”

You snickered at his offended expression, “Dude, I’m joking. You’ll get a growth spurt soon. Besides, I think you have bigger issues than your vertical challenge.”

A question fell from Luke’s lips before he followed your view. The bumper of his parent’s car had a small dent that his father would most definitely discover at some point.

“Oh, I am dead meat.” Luke sprouted just before the guys started brainstorming explanations that didn’t include four fourteen-year-old boys out after curfew driving.

“Hey, I have a little experience with bands and whatnot. Just a suggestion, maybe consider changing your band name from Riot Curve to something else.” You suggested starting to jog back to your house, “See you in class!”

Luke once again stared dreamily after your form forgetting what he should be worried about.

“Our name is already-“

“Sunset Curve.” Luke shouted, earning weird looks from his bandmates at the rather uncharacteristic change of mind, “We are renaming the band.”

“Why?” Bobby scoffed, “We agreed on Riot Curve!”

“Uh, no. You two did. Reggie and I weren’t there.” Alex raised one his eyebrows facing Bobby, “I was sick with the flu, and Reggie was at his aunt’s second wedding.”

“Why the name?” Reggie asked his pining lead singer flicking his gaze between Luke and the empty place where you had been.

“Because that was the first time, she talked to me. A sunset behind her brightening the pretty curve of her smile.” Luke sighed scrambling when the front step light at his house turned on. Each boy running for the safety from the Patterson windows.

“I like the name! I didn’t like the violence in the other name!” Alex shouted, rushing towards his bicycle to head back home. 

That was also the last time Luke saw you until 1993 at that concert as you moved to the medium-sized mansion by then.

Luke grinned at the memory of how he actually spoke to the girl of his dreams before everything went full to shit. Reggie’s parents started fighting, Bobby grew more into girls than music, Alex told his parents he was gay. Luke finally sat down with his parents telling him that he wouldn’t go to college and didn’t want to finish high school. He did finish high school to appease his parents even after running away.

“Luke?” The breathless question brought the guitarist back to the present time and to the blue eyes of his father. The shock on the man’s face preceding the tears building up, “Son.”

“Hon?” Luke’s knees collapsed as he heard the soft voice that had read him stories and sung lullabies when he was a child. Emily gasped as she saw the one person she had wished to find for so long, “Luke.”

“Mom.” Luke choked, raising his hands to press them to his face, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t-“

“Sh. Baby.” Emily wasted no time in scooping her son into her arms, so thankful nothing terrible had happened to him. She didn’t care where or what he had been doing as long as he in her arms again.

A hand clapped his shoulder to squeeze, announcing his father silently thanking whatever God there was for bringing his son home. That they didn’t have to worry blue and red lights would precede news no parent wanted to hear.

“Can I come in?” Luke asked tentatively. A soft hand brushing his hair away from his eyes for his parents to finally see the unique eye colour their son had inherited.

Emily ushered her son into the kitchen that hadn’t changed in the time Luke had been gone, the only difference being the Christmas decorations put away. They would reappear the last week of November; Emily wouldn’t have to struggle to put the ornaments on the tree without her son.

“I don’t know how to say what I want. Could I…could I sing please?” Luke murmured to his parents. It was a question he wasn’t sure he wanted to be answered. He hadn’t brought his guitar just in case it was the wrong move. His parents regretted buying him that guitar.

“Of course.” Mitch spoke, climbing to his height, “Just one moment.”

Luke watched his father leave the kitchen only to shortly return, holding a beautiful acoustic guitar. He had never seen it in his life either. He was confused when Mitch set the guitar into Luke’s lap.

“You’re like your mom. When she worries the only thing that can help calm her is knitting. I figured the guitar is your way of knitting.” Mitch calmly told his son choosing to not bright attention to tears in either of the Patterson men’s eyes.

Luke settled on the couch in the living room while Mitch and Emily took to their respective long known spots. Ones that faced the windows perfect for knitting and reading with natural light. Emily reached over to hold her husband’s hand while Luke started strumming.

First things first

We start the scene in reverse.

 All of the lines rehearsed.

 Disappeared from my mind

When things got loud

 One of us running out

 I should have turned around.

 But I had too much pride.

No time for goodbyes

 Didn’t get to apologize

 Pieces of a clock that lies broken

Not a dry eye in the Patterson home as Luke gave the best performance of his life. Performance didn’t build a bridge between him and his parents, why make a new bridge when the first one only needs repairs.

“Please record that.” Emily choked wiping her face of tears, “I want that on your first album, I loved it. I’m going to buy the first CD it’s on.”

Luke Patterson smiled a piece instead of healing at her words and the acceptance he had craved. Now he just had to propose again.

The cosy soft knit blanket Emily gave you at Christmas the first time you met Luke’s parents when it became clear that the relationship was serious. It was one that you cuddled into for a sense of comfort, eyes focused on the demo the song was waiting. Fingers itching to put in the CD player and listen to the finished product.

“Hey. Sweetheart you gotta stop blaming yourself.” Lance spoke coming to sit beside you on the piano bench. The bench you had learnt how to play directly across from the couch that you spent hours with him on learning the guitar.

“How can I? I asked for a ride, and you might never play again.” You scoffed, bringing your knees to your chest. Lance’s heart broke, hearing the guilt leaking from your words and the slump on your shoulders.

“I picked you up because I love you. You’re my daughter, my baby and I’m gonna tell you something that hope knocks some sense in that head.” Your Dad sternly spoke, taking your hand to place on his cast, “This? This doesn’t matter. If I hadn’t done this, you would be dead, and I wouldn’t be able to hold a guitar because you wouldn’t get to hear me play. I’d rather not be able to play and have my daughter alive.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks as your hero wiped your tears tugging you in his arms, “Besides I’m a Y/L/N, we don’t let other people tell us how to live.”

Lance leaned over to insert the CD into the machine before pressing play bringing a soft melody in the room. You snuggled into his side as his rich voice broke through into the most beautiful song you had ever heard. Unbeknownst to you, Luke stood in the doorway with his bandmates listening to the gorgeous record.

“I love it.” You whispered glancing over your shoulder, feeling the gaze of someone, and while you expected your mother, the sight was welcome. Not a dry eye in the room as the last chord rang with the joyful voice of a little girl; your voice from a family video.

“That’s beautiful.” Luke breathed grinning when you swiftly made your way into his open arms, “I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you like I should have been. I was hurt, and I didn’t want you to see that.”

“Was that the song that was playing- OW!” Reggie exclaimed rubbing the back of his head that Bobby had thumped. The bassist grimacing at the pain clueing that it wasn’t the greatest question he had said.

“Bittersweet was the song playing. This is the finished product.” Lance confirmed standing to his full height, “How about I let you see some unreleased songs?”

Lance ushered everyone but you and Luke from the room for privacy only winking before closing the door. Luke breathed out, leading you back to the couch with his hands squeezing your own.

“You were right,” Luke announced brushing the pad of his thumb under your eye to swipe an eyelash. His hazel eyes showing more of the green with the adoration gleaming from them, “It hurt being rejected but you were right about it. I hurt my parents by running out one them, especially my mom. I don’t want to hurt her more by excluding her from the biggest moment of my life.”

Your own hand raised to cup his cheek heart bursting when Luke turned his head to press a chaste kiss to the palm.

“You couldn’t guess how much it ached telling you no. I wanted to so badly, but your mom was always so good to me. I didn’t want her to miss out on anything.”

“She won’t miss out.” Luke replied, tugging you to your feet, “I went home, and we talked it through.”

Your feet cemented to the floor, “You went to see them?”

“I did. I was no sure Mom and Dad hated me for running away, for choosing music over them.”

“You didn’t choose music over them, Lu. You made a decision that they didn’t like, but you did what you were raised to do. They taught you to stand up for yourself, never second guess or quit.” You passionately told him, “They love you with their whole heart, they just didn’t understand how important music is to you at the time.”

“God, I love you so much. I would do anything for you.” Luke tugged you into his arms, bringing your attention to his different outfit choice.

He was wearing his best black jeans with no holes but still the chains, but his wallet wasn’t on display. His lucky blue rabbit’s foot was clipped to his necklace laying over the long sleeve purple corduroy shirt. The shirt he wore a lot when he wanted to be wanted to a little more dressed up.

“You’re wearing that shirt.” You stated glancing up to the boy, “And your lucky rabbit’s foot is not on your chains.”

Luke smirked, leading you through the house to the backyard where Luke had asked Nancy to be. Your mother sat at the piano with your father beside her, Nancy and Lance Y/L/N hadn’t sat at a piano together since you were tiny. Tears built up as Luke gently brought you into his arms entirely in time with the notes that Nancy began.

Heart beats fast

Colors and promises

How to be brave

 “Are you trying to make me cry?” You choked as he used the dance lessons he took with his mom twirling you around. As if you couldn’t cry more your gaze found Reggie strumming the acoustic guitar. Alex waiting at his drums with a grin at Luke and you.

I have died every day, waiting for you.

Darling, don’t be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years.

I’ll love you for a thousand more.

Everything faded as you two gazed into each other’s eyes, in his you swore you saw every moment with Luke play. The sweaty palms shy to hold each other to the first kiss, the second kiss, sharing the most vulnerable time at sixteen, his serenading at seventeen after signing with a label and everything between those precious moments.

Time stands still

Beauty in all she is

I will be brave

I will not let anything, take away.

What’s standing in front of me

Every breath, every hour has come to this.

Bobby made his presence known harmonizing with you mom so low you barely heard, but it was Luke singing that enthralled you. Everything about this moment you would remember for the rest of your life.

The music faded as Luke took a step back to kneel down in front of you with the ring he had yearned to give you. The ring his mother had held on to for the girl Luke would fall in love with. She had given it a few days previous so thoroughly happy she got the opportunity to pass it down.

“Luke.” You breathed cupping your hands, one still in a brace, over your shocked face. His expression softened into the most loving one you had ever receiving in the years you had been together.

“My life has been leading me to this very moment. I believe that I was guided into music because of this absolutely perfect moment. Surrounded by the people who cheered us on and gave wisdom. The people that gave us a look at what true love is supposed to be.” Luke began keeping his entire focus on the love his life, “I knew about you before you knew me. I was ten when I saw you during recess sitting up against the tree with your walkman. I fell for you at that moment, but it wasn’t until I hit Reggie with the car that I got to talk to you.”

You giggled as you remembered running to a group of guys after seeing one get hit. If only you knew who they were at that time.

“Our first real conversation was at a concert, and I fell in love at that moment, and I am so thankful you gave me a chance. There isn’t anyone else, sorry, Alex!” Luke teased over his shoulder, earning a chuckle in response, “There isn’t anyone I want to spend my life with. You are my muse, the person I share every lyric with, my love and my soulmate.”

“Luke.” You choked reaching up to cup his cheeks so close not a single sheet of paper would move between you.

“Will you marry me? In front of our parents and our friends?” Luke shakily questioned begging for his rabbit’s foot to work with it being close to his heart.

“Yes.” You answered, reaching up to pull his face down to yours. The most passionate kiss of your life he wrapped his arms around you waist lifting you in his arms; he twirled around with you.

This was his most significant moment ever. The Orpheum could never live up to this.

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In the Shadows Lies a Secret

A rewrite of an old idea I had for Halloween! And I finished it this time!

Word Count: 4762

Warnings: Creepy, disappearances, bad ending, no one technically dies I guess?, shadows

Pairings: none

Summer, 1987

“I’m telling you, I know what I saw!”

“I believe you, I’m just saying! How could you have seen him if he’s been missing for years? No one’s seen him in decades!”

“I don’t know, Rem, but I know it was him! I’m sure of it!”

“Just… Drop it? Please? I don’t like this, it doesn’t feel right.”

“....”

“Look, I just don’t want something bad to happen to you and this whole thing is creepy. I know you like creepy things but… You know I wouldn’t speak up otherwise.”

“... Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I… I should just forget about it.”

“I doubt you’ll be able to forget but just… try and let it go?”

“Sure. No more ghost hunting. Come on, let’s get home before the sun goes down.”

“Hey.... Thanks.”

“Yeah, shut up and let's go.”

Present day, 2017

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Patton.” The man leered into the studio apartment, scanning it carefully. “It’s rather… small.”

“Sure it is, but it’s mine!” Patton walked over and sat down on the couch facing a tv stand that held no television itself. “This is a futon so this is where I’ll be sleeping until I can get an actual bed.”

“That is where you’re sleeping? That can’t be healthy!”

“Roman, it’s fine!” Patton leaned back into the couch and grimaced a bit. “Besides, I have my eyes on a few of those city yard sale sites for a new bed. I snagged this for like, twenty bucks!”

Roman’s nose scrunched up at the unruly sight of the futon and sighed. He had helped bring it in the first time before the apartment was cleared out and it didn’t look any better in its new surroundings than it did the first time he saw it. “I mean, it’s not the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen… and as long as you plan on getting an actual mattress, I can let it slide. I don’t know why you didn’t just wanna crash at my place!”

“Because, Roman! I can’t keep relying on other people. You and Logan have been roommates for years and there’s hardly enough room for the two of you!” Roman sighed and nodded, agreeing with that statement. “I’ll be fine. It’s just until I can afford some real furniture.”

“I don’t know how you found this place.” Roman walked over to the only window in the apartment and pulled back the blinds. “It’s the creepiest part of town!”

“I think it just gives it character!” Roman looked over to his best friend as he smiled optimistically on his second hand couch. “Don’t you?”

Roman shook his head and let out a sigh. “I don’t understand how you’re never bothered or creeped out by things like this.”

“I dunno, never have. My parents even told me stories as a kid where I just unplugged my night light and hid under my bed. Said I was looking for my imaginary friend made of shadows or something silly.” Patton turned and fell back onto his couch, staring up at the ceiling. “I just find the dark comforting.”

“You’re a weird cookie, Pat, but I wouldn’t have you any other way.” Roman turned and looked around the empty apartment, one box of Patton’s clothes still not put away into the closet and a small box simply labeled ‘kitchen’ sitting on the counter. “Well, I have you all moved in since there wasn’t much. I’ve got practice I need to get to but you can always call me to come back if you snag anything else for this place, okay?”

“Okay! Thank you, Roman!”

“I’ll lock the door on my way out!”

Patton listened to the sound of the door closing shut with a click before he smiled. “Worrywart.”

Patton enjoyed the silence around his apartment, the passing of cars on the busy street below mixed in with a few faint voices as they walked by. It was a nice ambient noise, one he was going to have to get used to but certainly didn’t mind.

It was sweet of Roman to be concerned. After all, after Patton’s last job laid him off with no notice, he had to scramble to find a new place he could afford. He didn’t know what he would do without his two best friends helping him out. They had been living together for convenience for years while Patton had a solitary apartment by himself. They always thought it was weird since Patton was very social, but even he needed to recharge his batteries in solitude once in a while.

He decided to get up and sort through what little he still had before making an early dinner. There wasn’t much he could do for entertainment until the internet was hooked up, but he had his laptop and a few things on that he could still play without internet. Or he could always open the browser and play that game with the cute little dinosaur!

Sure, things weren’t perfect, but he had gotten through worse! He just hoped he was able to sleep well that night.

Spring, 1996

“Patton?! Sweetie, where are you?! Come to mommy honey!!”

“Mommy!”

“Oh, Patton, don’t run off like that, you scared me!”

“Sorry, mommy. I made a friend! He was super nice and said we can play later!”

“Not today, sweetie. You know you shouldn’t talk to strangers, okay? Come on, let’s go home. And don’t run off on me like that again!”

---

Patton woke up the next morning exhausted. He blinked and groaned, his back crying out in pain. Slowly, he stretched and realized that he was no longer on the futon but on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. 

Not exactly how Patton wanted his first night to go, but he was determined to not let that bring him down! He slowly sat up, wincing as his back cracked, and looked up at the futon. Maybe he just rolled out of bed? There was a discount store a few blocks over, perhaps a few spare pillows would help him sleep better. Besides, he didn’t have anything for breakfast anyway. Time for an adventure!

Much more optimistic about everything, Patton got up and dug through his box of clothes to get dressed since he didn’t have a dresser yet. He looked out the window at the slightly windy and chilly air and threw on a light jacket as well. Maybe a coffee wouldn’t be too bad with his breakfast…

---

Patton?” Logan called out. “Patton, are you alright?” 

Patton blinked a few times quickly and looked over at his friend. “Yeah, why?”

“You seem to keep spacing out. Have you been sleeping properly?”

Patton let out a humm and shook his head. “Not really. I can’t seem to get comfy on the futon. Half the time I wake up on the floor! And I keep having weird dreams...”

“Has this been happening only since you moved into your new abode?”

Patton frowned and shook his head. “No. I mean, I was worried about moving so I was having troubles then too, but I’m sure it’ll pass eventually.”

“Perhaps you should look into other methods to help you sleep?”

Patton sighed and looked at Logan before smiling. “Sure, lay it on me, Lo.”

“Oh. Well, if you’re looking for something to lay on top of you, a weighted blanket may be helpful.”

Patton chuckled at his friend’s misunderstanding. “Sure, I’ll keep that in mind. What else do you suggest?”

---

Late Summer, 1987

“Woah, babe, you look awful.”

“Wow. Thanks, Remy. I feel so much better now.”

“Look, I’m just worried! You look like you didn’t sleep at all last night!”

“Ugh, yeah. It doesn’t feel like I did. I’ve been having this weird dream this week and last night I just couldn’t fall asleep at all. I felt like someone was staring at me.”

“Well, it wasn’t me! And no one else was in our apartment last night.”

“I know, I know…”

“What was your dream about?”

“I just was staring at my bed and not moving. And I kept trying to but it was like I was paralyzed and I start to panic. Then I wake up.”

“That’s… a bit weird.”

“Yeah, it’s really freaky when it’s happening but it sounds so stupid talking about it.”

“It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you that much. Come on, we can go to the library and check out one of those books on dreams and laugh at all the stupid stuff it says.”

“Yeah… sure, why not?”

---

Patton woke up on the floor, once more and groaned. Luckily, he had thought ahead and started placing cushions down where he kept waking up. He groaned and got up slowly, his feet protesting like he had been on them all night. 

“Roman was right. I need an actual bed…”

He reached up to his side table to turn on the lamp before he froze. The table was bare except for his phone that sat faced down. He looked up and around his barren apartment before he saw it, sitting underneath the window with the blinds closed.

“How did you manage to get over there?” He slowly walked over, his feet protesting the movement. He reached out and opened the blinds, not sure how they were closed in the first place. “A bit of light makes everything better! Now, come on, lamp. Back to your post.” Patton chuckled at his little joke as he picked up his lamp and put it back on his table.

He was getting ready for his day when his phone started to ring. Running over, he was careful to pick it up and leave the lamp where it was before answering. 

“Hello? Roman! Sure, I’d love to come over for dinner after work tonight!”

---

“Patton, we’re growing more concerned for you lately. You haven’t been sleeping properly in weeks!”

“I’m fine, really. Besides, I think I finally found a bed! It’s more than I want to pay but I honestly think I need it.”

Roman let out a sigh of relief and put down a bowl of dinner rolls on the table. “Good. I’ll help you pick it up and bring it to your place, just let me know when, okay?”

“You got it, Ro! I can’t wait to sleep in a bed again. I’m sure everything will go back to normal after.”

Logan furrowed his brows but kept quiet, still wary of what was to come.

---

Roman let out a groan as he awoke to the sound of a chime ringing out repeatedly. “Logaaaan. Answer your phone.” He nudged his roommate in the back who woke up abruptly with a gasp. “Logan!”

“I got it…” Reaching out, he swiped on his phone, the screen too blurry to read without his glasses. He let out a soft hiss at the bright screen before answering. “Hello…?”

“Oh, sorry to wake you Logan. Um… It’s Patton, by the way.”

“Patton, are you alright?” Logan rubbed his eyes before sitting up, reaching out for his glasses carefully in the dark. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Yeah, right, sorry. Um, I didn’t really plan on calling or anything. You know I’d let you sleep unless it was an emergency. Oh gosh, is this an emergency? I’m so sorry, I should have just let you sleep I’ll just go and--”

“Patton. PATTON! Breathe. Nice and slow.” Logan put on his glasses and stared at the clock, trying not to panic with his friend. “Now, tell me what’s wrong?”

“Um… I’m not at home.”

“Then where are you?” Logan looked over at Roman who was staring up, confused as to what was going on. Hearing half of the conversation didn’t help calm his worry. 

“The, uh… You know the woods at the edge of town?”

“The--why are you in the woods?”

“I don’t know… I woke up here and I had my shoes on and I left my phone in my jacket and it’s almost dead but I’m freaking out and I don’t know what’s going on…”

“Roman and I can be there shortly to pick you up, okay? No need to panic.” Logan heard a gasp and a ruffled static noise coming from the other side. “Patton?”

“Please hurry… I don’t think I’m alone.”

Fall, 1987

“Remy, wake up!”

“Vee, do you have any idea what time it is?” The man grumbled into his pillow. “Let me sleep.”

“No, Rem, please wake up.” Virgil reached out and shook his friend frantically.

“Okay, geeze. What’s the emergency?” Remy looked up and blinked the sleep from his eyes, staring at his roommate. “Virgil, what’s wrong?” Remy immediately sat up, looking at his friend’s panicking eyes. “Hey, are you okay?”

“No, I’m really not.”

Virgil looked like he had been in full blown panic mode for a while. His hair was wild and he didn’t look like he slept in a week. Remy looked down and noticed he had his shoes on of all things. 

“Wait, where did you go?”

“The woods.”

“What for?”

Virgil looked up at his friend as a tear slipped down his face. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I woke up there, Rem… and I wasn’t alone. I saw him again…”

---

“Unacceptable, you’re staying with us tonight.”

Patton sat huddled in the back seat of their car. Roman had brought a spare coat as the seasons changed and wrapped it around Patton’s shoulders. 

“Okay…”

Logan sighed and glanced in the rearview mirror. “We’ve been really worried about you, Patton, and you keep shrugging these things off.”

“Yeah,” Roman turned around and looked at their friend. “We know creepy stuff never really bothered you, padre but… this has got to be weird, even for you.”

“Yeah…”

Roman turned to Logan who tensed up but kept his eyes on the road. “What do you remember, Patton? About tonight.” Roman asked, turning back to him as he spoke.

Patton shrugged and held the coat closer, staring at the floor of the car. “I dunno. I went to bed like normal and woke up standing in the woods.”

Roman nodded and frowned a bit. “And… were you alone?”

Patton opened his mouth to answer and froze, growing still. Roman patiently waited until Patton looked up and their eyes met. 

Patton’s eyes were red from exhaustion and tears. His face still wet from the tracks that ran down them that he was too tired to wipe away. He sniffled and took a shallow, stuttering breath before he shook his head. “I saw someone.”

“And did you know them?”

“Um… No, not personally. But I think I’ve seen them before.”

“How about we go home and try to sleep?” Logan glanced in the mirror briefly again. “I’ll take the couch and Patton can share the bed with you, Roman.”

“Logan, no-”

“I’m not taking any arguments on this.” Logan cut him off. “You need to sleep in a real bed.”

“I have been sleeping in a real bed!”

Roman scoffed. “That hand me down is hardly even a bed, Pat. I would know, I helped you bring it into your apartment!”

“Right…” Patton leaned back into the cushions and sighed. “Fine. Just for tonight.”

“We can talk about this in the morning, okay?”

Sleep didn’t come easy to any of them that night. Patton called into work and his tired voice made him sound off enough that they wished him well. They charged his phone for him and let him lay in bed, scrolling through the internet absently while his best friends cooked him breakfast.

They ate in silence around the table, Patton poking at his food and taking small bites, eating more of it than he thought he would be able to.

“So,” Logan finally spoke up, breaking the silence. “About last night.”

Patton dropped his fork and sighed. “I think it’s best we go back to my apartment. There’s something on my laptop I want to show you guys.”

Roman looked over at Logan concerned before nodding. “Okay, let’s finish up and we can go.”

---

Patton turned the knob of his apartment door and tensed as it opened, his keys still in his hand. “Looks like I didn’t lock it…”

Logan and Roman shared a concerned glance as they all headed in. Roman reached for the light switch Patton seemed to have ignored and blinked at the state of the small apartment.

The lap was sitting tipped over underneath the window and all the blinds were closed. “A bit dark in here, huh Pat?”

Patton ignored them, reaching for his laptop and pulling it open. The futon was still pulled out and he turned to sit on it, waiting for it to boot up. 

“What is it you wanted to show us, Patton?”

“This.”

Patton clicked away a few times before turning his laptop around.

Man Goes Missing in Woods, Never Found

Logan approached and scanned the news article that Patton had pulled up on his laptop. “Virgil Stone, 24, was last seen entering the Ward Lake Woods on late Friday morning. Witness says he followed after him but lost his trail. A search party was started--Patton, this is where we found you but… why do you have this on your laptop?”

“Because,” Patton scrolled and pointed to the photo of the missing person. “That’s who I saw in the woods. Virgil Stone.”

“That’s impossible!” Roman cried out. “This article is from thirty years ago! There’s no way this is the same person!”

“I know what I saw! This is him, I’m sure of it! And isn’t it weird that I saw him in the same exact woods I ended up in?”

Logan frowned as he stared at the face of the young man that went missing years ago. He looked up at his best friend, watching as he braced himself for what they had to say next. “Fine, if this is who you think you saw, then I’ll believe you.”

“Wha-Logan? You believe this?” Roman said, shocked. 

“Well, Patton isn’t known to lie and if that’s who he thought he saw, then I’ll believe him. There’s enough weird stuff going on already, don’t you think?”

“Well, yeah. Sure, I’ll give you that.” Roman held a hand out, silently asking for the laptop. Patton handed it over and watched as Roman scrolled down, pausing at the bottom. “There’s a name and contact here in case anyone sees him.”

“Yeah, Virgil’s best friend Remy. He was the last one to have seen him.” Patton spoke. “I’ve read just about everything about this disappearance. What about him?”

“Well,” Roman motioned to the screen. “You saw him, didn’t you?”

---

Fall, 1987

The disappearance of Virgil Stone

“Remy, this didn’t work the last two times we tried. Why would it now?”

“Because I don’t have any other ideas!” Remy cried out, frustrated. “I don’t know what keeps happening other than you seem to sleepwalk right out the front door past me. So this time, I’m gonna sit right here!” Remy sat down, leaning against Virgil’s locked door. “And watch you to make sure nothing bad happens!”

Virgil let out a sigh and laid down on his bed, pulling the blankets over him. “Thanks for trying anyway, Rem. I really appreciate it.”

“I’m not giving up on you, Virgil. You’re my best friend, okay? We’ll figure this out.”

Virgil decided not to answer.

---

“Hello? Is this Remy Picani?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve come to talk to you about, um… Virgil Stone?”

Patton froze as the line grew quiet. Eventually, he heard a sigh from the other end. 

“If you’re doing some paper on it, I’m not up to talking…”

“No, nothing like that! Um, my name is Patton Morales and I think I may have seen him?” 

“If this is some kind of prank-”

“No!” Patton cried out. “No, it’s not! I’ve been having these weird dreams and I guess I’ve also been sleepwalking? But I woke up in the woods the other day and he was right there, I swear! Oh, goodness, this sounds crazy now that I’ve said it out loud…”

“Sleepwalking?” Remy whispered. “You were sleepwalking and ended up in those woods.”

“Um, yeah. I know it sounds weird, but trust me! I know what I saw!”

“Tell me, Patton. Has this happened before? Weird dreams, sleep paralysis, exhaustion after you’ve woken up? Lighting fixtures moving around or breaking?”

Patton felt a cold sensation growing in his chest. Pure panic as everything the older man described was repeated back to him. “Um. Yes, actually.”

“You need to leave that city immediately.”

“E-excuse me?”

“This goes farther back than you can imagine. Virgil went through all the same stuff. He even saw someone else too.” Patton froze at the news. “His name was Thomas Sanders. He went missing back in the 50’s. No one ever found him. He just vanished from his home one day. Then, Virgil tells me he was searching the library and found an old news article. Turns out, this Thomas guy was who he had seen in the woods. I begged him to just drop it, but it wasn’t enough. Whatever he found had decided he was their next target.”

Fall, 1987

“Virgil!” Remy shouted, cursing himself for falling asleep. He didn’t expect his roommate to go out of the window on the second story, but it was too late for that. Somehow, he made it down relatively safe. Besides the slight limp he had at first, he seemed okay.

But now Remy had to run after him into the woods, desperately trying to catch up.

“VIRGIL!” He was so close, too. While Virgil seemed to be in a hurry, he was merely speed walking. Remy had woken up to an open window and empty bed, but just in time to catch his friend.

He reached out, grabbing his wrist and spinning him around. “Virgil, let’s go back, okay?” Remy couldn’t hide his own panic anymore.

Virgil stared at him, his eyes blank as he shook his head. “I made a promise…”

“V-virgil?”

“I have to keep it. I made a deal. I have to go.”

“A deal? What kind of deal? When?!” Virgil ripped his hand out of his friend’s grip and turned, sprinting off into the woods. “Virgil?! WAIT, COME BACK!”

“I spent hours looking for him after that. I called the cops and explained he went missing. They searched those woods for days. No one ever saw him again.”

“Oh my…”

“You need to leave that town immediately before the same thing happens to you, got it?” “Remy dear, who are you on the phone with?”

“No one, Em, I’ll be right there! …. Good luck, Patton. I really hope you make it out of this okay.”

---

Patton sat down and talked to Logan and Roman about what he had learned. While still a bit skeptical, their worry and concern outweighed everything else.

“Luckily, you’re on a month to month basis with your rent since you never signed a lease. We can have you moved out by the end of the month.”

Patton nodded as Roman gathered his things. He had only been on his own for a few months and now he was back to square one. “Okay.”

“I can help sell your stuff while we try and search for a job for you a few towns over. Hopefully that’s far enough that whatever is going on will pass.”

“Sure.”

Roman stopped and approached Patton carefully. “I’m sorry about all this, Pat, but we just care about you. This is some strange stuff going on.”

“I know.” 

Roman stared at his friend, his bags under his eyes were deep and his eyes were glassy and tired. “We’ll treat you to dinner tonight and you can stay with us. Then, tomorrow, we’ll start getting you away from this place.”

Patton looked up and smiled. “Thanks, Roman. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

Roman smiled back and went back to packing things up. As soon as his back was turned, Patton’s smile fell. 

“Patton, there is one thing I am still curious about.” Patton turned to Logan as he spoke. “You had all those articles because you had seen Virgil before. If the forest wasn’t the first time… when was it?”

“My name is Patton! What’s yours?”

“.... It used to be Virgil.”

“Well, what is it now?”

“I… don’t know.”

“Well, how come you came outta nowhere?”

“... I came from the shadows.”

“Wow! That’s so cool! Can you teach me to do that?!”

The man smiled and held out his hand. “Do you promise to come with me one day?”

“To play? I have to ask my mom first! But then can you teach me the shadow trick?”

“Of course.”

“Then I promise!”

“Patton?! Sweetie, where are you?”

“Sorry, I gotta go! Bye!!”

“Come to mommy honey!!”

“Mommy!”

“Oh, Patton, don’t run off like that, you scared me!”

“Sorry, mommy. I made a friend! He was super nice and said we can play later!”

Patton blinked and shook his head. “A long time ago… and in some of my dreams, I think.”

“Well, that doesn’t matter. We’ll get you sorted out of here in no time.”

Patton turned to the corner near the window and watched the curtains move with a breeze. He blinked and wondered if there was a draft, since all the windows were closed. It was too cold to have any of them open. 

The curtain slowly drifted, pulling itself closed a bit before it stopped.

Patton smirked. Definitely not a draft.

“I think we should go.” The two turned to Patton who was still staring out the window. “It’s been a long day, you know? I just want to hang out with you two for today and try and forget about all of this.”

“Of course.” Roman put a few things down in a box and dusted his hands. “Let’s go have some fun.”

Patton held open the door and let both his friends leave before turning back into the apartment. He flicked the lights off and stared as it grew dark, suddenly seeing the shadows in his apartment shift around. With a nod, he closed the door and locked it before taking his key and placing it under the doormat before turning around and catching up to his friends.

---

“Good night, Roman. Good night, Logan.” Patton curled up on the couch and smiled at them. “You guys are the best, you know that?”

“Anything for you, Pat.” Logan nodded, agreeing with Roman’s statement. “Just wake us if you need anything.”

“Sleep well, Patton. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Patton waited in the dark for a while, staring at the ceiling of the living room. He heard his friends walking about until they finally settled in themselves. He sighed and sat up, getting to his feet quietly. He made his way to the front door and gathered his shoes before quietly opening the door, sneaking out into the night.

Once outside, Patton slipped on his sneakers and made his way down the street. His hands started shaking and his heart was pounding in his chest as he walked, Remy’s words still ringing in his head. 

A promise.

Patton barely made it to the park where the woods stretched before he saw him. A dark figure made purely of shadow standing at the edge of the woods. Patton froze and stared, blinking a few times to make sure it was actually there before he started walking closer. 

“Patton.”

“Virgil, right?”

The figure slowly started to look like the missing man as Patton approached. “His name was Virgil once, yes.”

“S-so… W-what are you?”

The figure didn’t answer.

“I… I don’t want to do this.”

“But you promised. It’s your turn. You made the deal.”

“Virgil” held out his hand and stood there, waiting. Patton stared at it, trembling in fear of what he was doing. “If… If I ran away…”

“It wouldn’t have mattered.”

Nodding, Patton slowly reached out and took the hand, gasping at how frozen it felt.

“Thank you, Patton.”

Virgil smiled and closed his eyes, the darkness taking his form as he slowly began to disappear. Soon enough, Patton stood at the edge of the field alone. His hand still stretched out as if holding another and his eyes wide in surprise. Then, it fell and he blinked before slowly walking into the woods.

Patton knew that it was his turn, and the next person to see him wouldn’t be for a long while.

----------

Happy Halloween!

This was the old In The Shadows taglist. Sorry if you’re no longer interested <3

@ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @up-at-3-am-reading-fanfic @the-gayest-one-of-them-all @randomfanderfriend @queer-human-being @fantazyiskey @rememberfateau-nowoffical @vulnerablevirgil @justanotherpurplebutterfly @conversationswithamilennial @ravenclawicecream @bubblycricket @curlycutiekinz @noahlovescoffee @bunny222

General:

@helloisthisusernametaken @entitydark @lightningbug04 @moonstone-fox @another-sandersidesblog @thesynysterunknown @singingjo @unikornavenger @rememberfateau-nowoffical @sanders-sides-trasshcan @sleepyssnail @jemthebookworm @spectralheartt @fandomsofrandom @johnlaurensadmirer-johnsenpaiowo @rosie601 @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @izzyfandoms @zaidiashipper @enbyamy @romanmustberomantic @daylnvale @that-one-sunfish-with-a-wig-on @squiddney69 @decayingfoxx @watchoutforthefanfics