#maybe the bi flag was too much of a statement but what can i say. these are my colors indeed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jodilin65 · 30 years ago

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SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 1995 I cannot believe I started another story, but I did. I’ll write about it soon.

Tom’s eating now which takes him forever.

He just got in from working for 4 hours. At the end of each month, they all go in for 4 hours on a Saturday.

The first thing he said was how tired he was, and I told him - don’t worry, I won’t hit him for sex. The guy’s been displaying very low interest in me sexually these last several days, but I got him to go down on me last night.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 1995 I thought I heard tweak daddy either coming or going.

I just typed up my story ideas for Tom and put boxes in front of poor, fair, good, and excellent for him to rate his opinions on them. I’ll also probably write it in regular story form rather than script form and have an anonymous narrator, rather than be a self-narrator if I do a story.

Oh, how I want to wake Tom up for a good screw, but I’m not sure if he’d want that.

Another pair of underwear of mine is ripping. I’ve gotta stop buying cheap pairs and pay a little extra money to have them last longer.

Did I mention yet what Tom said he’d like to do occasionally? I always wished for this to be the case here and there, too. He says he wants to have sex just for him once in a while so he can go slow. (I like it fast) This I’ve got to see! I think he brought this up cuz of how I’ve commented on how sex is for me. All he’ll do is bang away hard, then that’s it.

Again I’m glad I’m sure to win this bet for two reasons. I can’t go 24 hours without smoking! Also, how do you think I’d feel if he could cum for me to quit smoking for 24 hours and he couldn’t cum for the fun of it and to try making a baby? That’d convince me all the more he’s holding back, severely against a kid, and I’m already pretty damn convinced!

Later…

Tom, who’s home now, rated my story ideas. Maybe I’ll do something later.

I just logged off from AOL only to continue getting nowhere with it.

Got the two flags from my parents today, but there were no pictures. They sent two packets of daisy seeds, a Halloween flag, and a cat flag. No flamingos.

What amazing luck. Andy had heard about the letter of mine he posted. If it were me who lived there and posted it, I’d never hear a damn thing about it.

Anyway, there had been this guy Andy liked who lived right near him so Michelle went over and told him. It turns out that this guy’s also gay, his name’s Andy too, but is fucked up. He hacked his wrists up over losing his job, a boyfriend, and a girlfriend. This guy’s bi, actually. So, the guy mentioned how someone wrote no fudge packers on the sign with all the pool rules and how he found an anti-gay poem by “Mystic” and was very nerved up about it. This is stupid of Andy, which he now realized, but he told the guy it’s not an anti-gay letter, it’s a letter and not a poem, and I’m Mystery, not Mystic. He probably thought it was anti-gay cuz of the way I began the letter, Yo Femmy! We gays/bis do that at times like blacks call each other niggas.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 1995 “Last night I got so bad I kept hitting my head on the bunk above mine. One time I almost knocked myself unconscious. Not intentionally, I just keep forgetting to duck.”

The above was Bob’s latest funny statement to Kim. She sent me a letter along with a 9-page letter he wrote to her.

I will be back to write more later.

Later…

There have been so many things I planned or thought of writing but never got around to it for various reasons, so I’ll just try to remember as much as I can.

I called my parents. They got the envelope with the flowers and fish I drew. He says they’re sending me two flags. A Halloween one and a flag of pink flamingos. Tom and I will like that.

He also says Ma may have thrown in some pictures.

Now for last night’s observation of tweak daddy. Between 10 - 11 PM, the newspaper was gone. Tom said he saw the blinds being washed out back when he went up on the roof. After midnight I saw him painting. It’s amazing how this guy never sleeps.

Tom says that means it’s not selling as fast as they’d like and that they’re getting anxious. I’m surprised they didn’t paint right away with the way kids scribble on walls and smear food all over them.

This is day 4 of having only 20 cigarettes a day. Yesterday I had 1½ leftover.

I saw a commercial about an ovulation predictor test. I knew the couple weren’t actors since the woman was huge. The funny thing about it was when they said it pinpoints the 72 hours a woman is most fertile.

“Most” fertile? I thought you were either fertile or not fertile. I didn’t know you could be kind of fertile. Also, why do people need these ovulation predictors when all they need to do is count 14 days after the first day of their period?

Speaking of my period chart - I checked and realized I counted some of the numbers of days between periods wrong, so I’m not even gonna bother counting my 1996 periods. Just mark the dates I’m flowing.

Checked AOL’s newsgroups and got knocked offline twice. Still, I never found anything of interest. Tom said don’t worry about that, just get familiar with it. Is he covering up his patience game by having me do useless stuff?

Last night we were talking about how we grew up differently and how material things spoil you. Is he trying to “unspoil” me by putting off stuff if he isn’t trying to instill patience in me? I reminded him, though, that I never did get a lot of the things in life I’ve wanted. I’ve gotten very far from all I’ve ever wanted.

Later…

I’d really like to screw now, but Tom needs his sleep. He’s a lousy pussy licker when he’s tired, too. Then he’s either not quite in the right spot, too slow, too light, or too hard.

Andy mentioned going job hunting the other day. I wonder if he found anything.

I stood on the chair by the window in the music room to spy on next door. I didn’t see anyone or any vehicles. A dim light was on and the windows were wide open. Not open to the screen; nothing was covering them. They haven’t put the blinds back up yet. Must be waiting for the paint to dry.

Earlier, when I came into the living room, Tom teasingly asked, “Did you come to fight with me?”

So, I asked him if he was trying to unspoil me and if he isn’t trying to instill patience in me. He said no, but I’m not so sure he’d admit to it if he really was.

In one more month, I’ll have been writing for 8 years. Wow!

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 1995 I can’t sleep, so I thought I’d write. Boy, am I gonna be exhausted when that alarm goes off in 7 hours!

How fucking weird. At 10:00, I saw tweak daddy next door, but I never saw a car or van. It looked like he was doing something to the poster that was in the front living room window.

Just now, though, I noticed he put newspaper over the two side windows facing our house. With blinds in there, why would he do that? Did he take the blinds down, but put up the newspaper to hide the fact that the house is vacant which is very obvious anyway?

I highly doubt anyone noticed me spying.

Now there’s a white car in the driveway.

I’ll bet he took down the blinds and put up sheets of newspaper for privacy for meeting a mistress in there. That car must’ve been hers. Or his. You never know. Or maybe he’s doing something illegal in there of some kind. All I can say is that these people are weird! Always have been, and always will be. If he’s screwing someone in there, why go to the extreme of putting newspaper up? Why not just get down on the floor and screw with the lights off? Maybe the newspaper is so they can talk, eat, drink something or do whatever after they screw, but they want light for it and not to be seen. Why put newspaper on the sides of the house, though? What does he think I’d do - try finding a way to tell Lenore? Maybe it’s the girl next door on the other side of their house. Maybe they don’t want her boyfriend or husband to peek in on her if he were to go looking for her if she does have a boyfriend or a husband.

Later…

I woke up sooo tired at 7:15. Then at 8:50, I napped for a little over an hour. I prayed for help on this yesterday just to end up taking a nap. It sure makes me feel like a failure. If being a mom means being more tired than that 7 days a week, then there’s no way I can do it. There’d be absolutely no way I could ever handle it. Even when it does get to the point where they sleep all night, for the first 4-5 years they’re home all day. I couldn’t be sleeping when I’m supposed to be tending to its needs and keeping an eye on it.

What I need to do, though, is to stop saying what I would not be able to do with a kid, cuz there’s never really gonna be a kid no matter what he says or what I sense.

I sensed Robin after I prayed, which I’ll expand on later. Meanwhile, I find it ironic that videotapes are all playing with white fuzzy lines of static through them right after she visits.

Also, I think over the last couple of days since I prayed God did give me a sign and answer some questions.

Cutting down smoking was so much easier yesterday, suggesting that God just might want to help me with that and that He does think it’s an important issue.

Today’s sign was definitely reminding me that I can’t handle a kid. Maybe that saying about how God doesn’t give us more than we can handle is true for some people and I’m one of them. Should I even ask Him for a child when the answer seems so obvious? Should I just stick to the smoking, the Robin case, and do whatever I can do about the sleeping schedule?

Later…

I hope this journal will bring better luck with the issue of smoking, sleeping, and Robin. Yes, the kid is hopeless and I do see more and more why it’s not meant to be. Do I still have hard feelings, though? Yes. Especially when I see people with worse problems than I’ve got getting pregnant.

Right now I’m gonna go begin searching through those thousands of newsgroups.

Later…

I searched through some newsgroups for a while until I got knocked offline. So far I haven’t found anything.

I forgot to mention more about next door (my other case). When I saw him in there last night, I thought I saw the handlebar of a bike and saw him ride away on a bike this morning. If he could ride here by bike, then I don’t think they moved very far. But whose car was that which left shortly after he did? Why would he come stay at the house from 10 PM - 8 AM? He couldn’t have gone to sleep before I did which was around 1 AM, cuz I saw lights on through the newspaper. How the hell does this guy manage to sleep 4-5 hours every night? I’ve seen lights on very late at night and Lenore says he played the piano late at night.

If they weren’t desperate for a bigger house right away and if they are staying in Phoenix, why did they move before the house was sold? It really does sound like they’re running from something and hiding out.

Tom said the poster in their living room window has been gone for 3-4 days (the poster that mentioned the house’s features).

I still am baffled as to why he put newspaper up when all he had to do was pull the blinds down. He must’ve either taken the blinds or is trying to hide the fact that the house is vacant. Newspaper doesn’t do it, though. It’s obviously vacant without newspaper and even more so with it.

Tom said maybe he saw me spying. I highly doubt it. Plus, I saw him put newspaper in the front window which I can’t spy through.

When I got up the first time this morning, Tom was getting ready to leave. I commented that I wasn’t sure about the smoking and schedule thing and that there was no way I could have a kid. He said, “OK,” in such a relieved tone of voice. A tone that said, “Yeah, I know that’s not what I want. Thanks for saying that, though, cuz I haven’t been able to tell you the truth.” He’s told me by his actions and in his own little subtle ways. Like when he says shit like, “What are you gonna do? Go out and cheat on me to get pregnant?”

Well, I don’t feel good enough to be a mother cuz of my sleep schedule, he won’t quit playing his games, so I guess I would rather be miserable with wanting one here and there than miserable every day due to never sleeping enough and all its other hardships.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 1995 The good news is that the sleep schedule’s going well, as well as cutting down on smoking. My lungs already feel a great deal better. I haven’t been waking up wheezing and this morning I only needed one shot of my inhaler. However, I am so tired this morning. I could’ve easily slept until around now. I had the alarm set for 8:00, then when it went off I hit the snooze for half an hour. Soon enough, though, I’ll wake up and feel more alert. The important thing is that I don’t feel sick. Thank God Tom hasn’t woken me up like I figured he wouldn’t. All he does is brag about the idea of sleeping a few hours, getting up and screwing, then falling back asleep for a few more hours. I said, “Tom, you’ve never woken me up for that and I certainly can’t see it as something you’d do.” His answer to that was, “You don’t know me.”

Ah, but I think I do.

I wish I knew what in the hell happened to a certain diary I had when I was around 13. I was in 7th or 8th grade and we lived in the second house we had in Longmeadow. We lived on Berkeley Dr. till I was around 12 and then on Birchwood Ave.

Anyway, in the second house, I remember having a small diary. I remember writing all kinds of BS in it, mainly about fantasies of women I had crushes on. I don’t remember what I last did with it. I never remember throwing it out and I never saw it again after becoming a ward of the state and leaving home pretty much permanently till age 18 at 15. During the ages of 15-18, I’m sure my mother went through whatever stuff of mine that was still left at the house. That diary included. How embarrassing! If my mother really did get ahold of it, and I can’t see who else could’ve, I’m sure she read it.

Later…

I’m making a chicken pot pie now. In the meantime, I found something Sarah said in her letter pretty ironic. About how she wants to feel and believe in God. Wants a sign that He exists, but sometimes she doesn’t have faith cuz of certain things that happen. Does that sound familiar, or what? So, anyway, I finally decided to do what I’ve been debating on doing for some time now and that’s to pray consistently. The worse that can happen is nothing. In my prayer, I explained my feelings. I don’t feel it’s necessary at this time to pray for help with the singing. Not with Tom around and his equipment and our plans and ideas combined. I did pray, though, for help on being able to keep cutting down on the cigarettes and possibly quit eventually. For help in finding out Robin’s name and if she’s dead or alive. For help getting pregnant or being able to accept and deal with never having a kid if that’s not in the cards. Tom told me yet again the other day that he felt God wanted and had it planned for me to be a mother, but wait till I tell you this! I know this sounds crazy and it really shocked the hell out of me. Tom didn’t seem shocked at all and it very well could be a false vibe, cuz that can happen when you want something. Although slight, I had the surest vibe ever that I may have a kid in 1997. The first month that came to me was January. The second month that came to me was September. How weird, huh? Like I said, though, it may be a bogus vibe, cuz I don’t see how the hell a child could fit into our cards. We don’t “qualify” and due to already being blessed with so many other things, what makes me think He’ll spoil me? No one gets it all.

Later…

Just ate that chicken pot pie. Now I think I’ll go start a letter to Sarah.

Later…

Shit! Fuck! Damn! Someone’s moving in. I thought I heard a dog in the truck or house which I assume will be kept out back 24/7 like all dogs are out here. All I saw was one guy around 25. He looks like a roughneck. The type to drink, do drugs, be a slut, and blast his music. He’ll probably have shitloads of company. This guy definitely looks like the dog and kid type. Don’t get me wrong, I believe 80% of the male population is anti-daddy. It’s just that most guys are irresponsible sluts who don’t give a shit how many women they knock up. He also looks like the type to attract irresponsible women. The type that doesn’t want kids, don’t think they’ll get pregnant cuz they don’t want them, but get pregnant anyway. Either that or they’re all too drunk or stoned to be responsible. I know I’m sounding very paranoid and judgmental, but I know just the type God would send me for a neighbor. Also, the M’s were quiet for 5-6 months, the music people have long been gone, so now it’s compensation time.

Later…

I just talked to Andy quickly and now he’s off to work. He’s vibeless as far as next door goes, but now is the perfect test for Robin. She told me I had nothing to worry about, so we’ll see. Andy said that maybe the guy lives there by himself. I doubt it. If so, all the more he’s gonna have company like crazy. Especially at his age. He could just be helping whoever else moves in there but doesn’t live there himself.

I also don’t remember seeing a sold sign out front and Tom didn’t mention seeing one, so who knows the scoop on that?

God’s gonna get me on this either way. If it isn’t lots of noise from whoever lives there, then it’ll be lots of noise from visitors. What’s weird is that so far I haven’t heard a damn thing. No dogs or kids, so obviously they’re not over there yet. They must be staying back at the old place so as not to get in the way of moving.

One good thing about our illiterate, game-playing mailman is that within a month or so, I know I can expect a piece of their mail. This way I’ll know their name which is always a nice thing to know.

When the M’s moved in, it was like, damn! They came in slamming, shouting, screaming, sliding, knocking, and banging up a storm! The whole street had to know when they arrived.

I’m gonna go out back now.

Later…

I didn’t hear anything out back. When I went to check for packages, all I saw was the truck with its back door open, but no people. I’m now sitting by the window in the music room and I still can’t hear anything going on, so obviously they haven’t brought the kids and dogs. I never heard any kids looking at the house with anyone, so the kids never came with them, or I was asleep. If the guy I saw is gonna live there, then at his age, what does he do to afford the down payment? He looks like he might be a construction worker. It’s so much easier to afford a house here in AZ and the down payments are so much lower, but 2-5 grand is still a lot of dough by itself.

I know it sounds funny for me to ask this, but why is it so quiet? I don’t even hear furniture moving, let alone voices. I’ve just got to enjoy it while it lasts cuz I’m sure that either later today or by tomorrow, those dogs and kids will have arrived.

Later…

Oh, goody! It was just a false alarm next door. I’ll get into that after, but first I’m gonna write my usual prayer to God and show it to Tom.

Dear God,

They say that Jewish people don’t usually pray, but a friend said it’s OK for anyone to do so.

I know there are people out there who need Your help more than I do. Also, I fully intend to put forth every ounce of effort I possibly can to obtain the following goals. However, if You (along with my husband) can provide me with extra strength to accomplish these goals, I’d really appreciate it.

Please help me keep doing well by cutting down on cigarettes and even possibly quitting someday.

Please help me to keep a schedule Monday - Friday.

Please help me find out who “Robin” is and to make contact with her by mail or phone to thank her for being so kind to me years ago if she’s alive.

Please help my husband and I complete our sex life and please allow us a child. If a child is not in our cards, please help me to be able to accept it and deal with it.

Later…

Right now Tom’s setting up the computer to show me how to research the Robin case.

Anyway, when Tom came home he told me there was no sold sign and that someone just used the driveway to park there. The truck left at 3:30. No wonder I heard no dogs or kids.

I have a moderate vibe of someone moving in in mid-October which makes sense. It’s cooler then, so all the more the kids can be out playing. I believe October is when the M’s moved in in 1993.

Later…

I’m out in the living room now with the TV on.

Tom showed me how the newsgroups on AOL advertise and leave messages about all kinds of things. There are people looking for pen pals and there are groups for businesses and just about every subject imaginable. So, my job is to find a group that may contain someone who may have attended the camp. Once I find the most promising areas, we’ll post the message and hope that someone will know something. Tom’s still sure that we’ll get a name. I asked him what the chances of people who were at that camp back then would be at having computers. He said pretty high since it was a Jewish camp that wasn’t publicly run like Girl Scouts or something like that. Also, he says that other campers that were there in the mid-70s are now young to middle age and according to Tom that’s the prime age group for those who own computers.

Later…

I’m watching an old rerun of Law & Order.

I didn’t write about the “thought test” Andy and I did yesterday. I told him to think of me anytime between 3 PM - 9 PM and that I’d let him know if I sensed it and at what time. I also told him to think of me before he was going to bed when I’d be asleep to see if I dreamt of him. I didn’t have any dreams at all and I sensed him thinking of me at 4:50, but he said he did at 3:30. Oh, well. Maybe it takes time for the thought waves to travel, as Andy said.

Later…

I’m watching Dateline now, a news show. The talk show business sure has grown. Just a few years ago there were only about 5 talk show hosts. Now it seems there are 15-20.

Soon I’ll be listening to music, then hopefully falling asleep not too late.

I just watched an interesting case. A guy was charged with assisting the suicide of his wife for the first time in Florida’s history. She was really upset, threatened suicide, the guy threw her a loaded gun and she shot herself. Naturally, he got off. Also, naturally, the guy jurors were more on his side than the woman jurors.

Tom read my daily prayer which I’ll do as consistently as I can for a while. He liked it and he believes my praying will work. That’d be nice, but we’ll see.

Earlier I made the comment to Tom that I hoped that I didn’t get my period too early again next month. We’re in the 9th month of the year, but I’ve already had 10 periods. He said he didn’t think I would, and that was just his opinion. Really? How does he come to that opinion? I never bothered asking. Is he considering the deadline for his date and other reasons why he just may let himself go? Nah - I’m not gonna bother trying to read silly things into his opinion due to my wishful thinking.

Now they’re discussing how closing arguments in the OJ case have begun. Closing arguments will go on for weeks. They say he’ll either be convicted, acquitted or there’ll be a hung jury.

He won’t be convicted.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 1995 Got my period two days early.

At the end of last week, I got another 10-page letter from Sarah. It was really great. She really is a great writer and the best pen pal I’ve ever had for sure. Today I’m sending her 6 drawings. One of a girl I copied and some of Linda and Gloria. I’ve also got 10 animal pictures that I’ll be sending her in the near future.

Last Saturday at 5 PM, a couple of kids started to play basketball next door. Tom said that kids aren’t stupid and that if they see an obviously vacant house, they’re gonna want to use their basketball hoop. Great. That’s all I need till there are kids living over there that’ll be doing this every day for hours. The good thing about it was that they quit as soon as they started.

Tom put up the little white plastic shelf that I had in the bathroom on the wall by the side of the waterbed. This way I can have coffee without having to always hold it in my hand and worry about spilling it on the bed.

More accident news concerning Gloria. She and her husband are fine but apparently, their boat collided with someone else’s. I believe another couple was on the other boat. The woman survived, but the guy’s dead. Authorities say that Gloria and Emilio did nothing wrong, but they’re still investigating it and Tom said he heard that they’re gonna check Emilio’s alcohol level. I’ve never heard of him having a drinking problem, but we’ll see. You never know.

See what I mean about every blessing coming with a burden? Gloria got to break her back for reaching the peak of fame, and now this for having Emily, which was very doubtful cuz of her back. Makes me wonder what would happen to me or both Tom and I if we could have a kid and that kid would be a miracle kid too, just like Gloria’s what with the way he is and cuz of the DES.

We started yesterday with a new experiment as far as cigarettes are concerned. For a while there, I had been smoking approximately 25-30 cigarettes a day. We’re starting with a pack a day. I take a pack for the day and he’s gonna find a place to hide the rest of them. We’re gonna do this for a while till I get used to that, then we’ll probably have me smoke less. Also, if I have cigarettes left over from certain days, that gets taken and hidden away by Tom. He said once it equals 5 packs or so, I can buy something with that money. 5 packs usually cost about $8.

Tom said, “I could take all your cigarettes and tell you that I’m not buying anymore, but that way you’ll just freak out and crave one till you can get one.”

This way, we’ll wean me down without freaking me out and hopefully, I’ll be able to deal with the cravings without going bonkers.

Tom thought it’d be best if I do what he does and catch up on my sleep on the weekends like most people do and like I used to do when I was in school. So far it’s been working out fine and I hope it stays that way. Another scary thing about having a kid is that there’d be no catching up on sleep for years!

Tom said that tomorrow or Wednesday he’s gonna show me how to do the next step as far as finding out about Robin over the Internet without having to wait on him. He said it will be time-consuming, but this way I can be a detective on my own and have fun doing it and surprising him with whatever I may find out like I love to do. Great!

Later…

I just talked to Tammy who had her woodstove on! Haha! It’s only 50º there and it’s around 30º at night.

I also asked if Bill was OK, and she asked what kind of vibe I felt. Nothing too serious, but we’ll just have to wait and see.

Anyway, last Friday night wasn’t too cool for me. I was PMSing pretty good and the anger at Tom and God was pouring right through me. I told him to stop teasing me with sex and the kid. I got the same reply as I always do.

I asked him what he thought about going to a doctor and telling them about our situation and seeing if they can find a way to get his sperm into me. I’m sure they can. He said not till we try ourselves. Oh yeah, that’s right. We’ve only screwed a few times. All the times before didn’t count.

In fact, just the very next day he teased me again. We were lying in bed discussing how great it’d be if I could quit smoking. Then I said, “So, give me a reason to quit for 24 hours.”

He said OK yet he never came a drop.

Then he told me later how I “misunderstood” him and that when he said OK, he meant he was trying to by Oct. 15th. Whatever. Then I said, “I know you. You’ll only do it once, when I can’t get pregnant, just to have me stop smoking for 24 hours, but not cuz you want to.” Then he said that a bet is still a bet. Fine.

Sometimes I just can’t deal with this alone and it just freaks me out. I feel that all I can do is get through the 5 days or so out of every month that this happens all by myself till it goes away. When I’m having anxiety about these issues, it feels like they’ll never go away.

No, we didn’t end up screaming and swearing at each other or threatening to leave each other and I felt better soon enough, but I just wish there were an end to this shit!

The weekend was great, though.

Later…

About the weekend - Tom recorded himself playing some keyboards. He says he’s so out of shape playing, but he sure is better than I ever was. The difference between my playing nowadays and back in 1989 is pretty sad.

We went over to his parents, but they were out. So, Tom took his key and we went in anyway. Tom did about 20 minutes of work on their computer.

She really did hang up the puzzle in her hall. Very crooked, though.

I can see where Tom gets his living style. Their house is absolutely filthy! Not one picture on the walls was straight. There were food crumbs all over the table and windowsills. They obviously quit dusting and vacuuming a long time ago. There was clutter everywhere and papers all over the floors. The walls and ceilings are peeling and dirty. I’ll bet that the only reason why that house never reeks is cuz they always run their EC or have the door and windows open. I guess raising 5 kids will do that to you. You get used to living where things are messy, cluttered, and even filthy, cuz that’s how it is with kids. Unless you’ve got a mother like I had. No thanks.

Afterward, we went to Denny’s, then to Old America where I got a puzzle. It was of paperweights of 35 different colors, designs, and patterns. I finished it in less than 5 hours and it’s now on the wall in the music room.

Surprisingly enough, I am seeing a slight improvement in my nails. Tom noticed it, too. Guess I’ll keep taking those calcium tablets.

Tom’s not home now. He will be soon, though.

I threw Tom off. I really began my period on the 24th, but said I began it on the 23rd. On the 8th, which he’ll think is 14 days after my period, we’ll see if he’s conveniently unavailable to screw for whatever reason.

God, cutting down on the cigarettes has been hard! I want one now but know I should wait at least 45 minutes.

Later…

I spoke to Andy earlier who agrees more and more that thought vibration really exists. He said he had been thinking of Marla a lot the night he had me call her and that when she called him, she told him the same thing. So, if Robin’s really alive, she was thinking of me for sure when I first wrote about her, according to Andy. Yeah, I believe thought vibration could really exist, but only if the two people know each other. For example, I don’t exist in Gloria’s life, she doesn’t know me, therefore if I were to think of her, she couldn’t possibly think of me, too. Andy said you just don’t always know who starts it. However, it seems that all my thoughts and experiences with Robin just came to me suddenly. No events or anything seemed to lead to it. I asked him, if she were alive, does he think this means that she started to think of me first? He said yes.

Later…

Got a letter from Kim. She also sent two pictures of her with two other fat ugly women. She and one of the women were wrapping the other woman’s hair. This was in Greenfield. She said that if I send the pictures back, she’ll send them to Michelle. She didn’t look too bad in these pictures. I’ve seen her take worse pictures. Her hair still looks the same, as well as her clothes. She still wears that beeper that goes off every 5 minutes.

Andy and I were discussing what little we know so far about Gloria and Emilio’s boating trouble. He said their boat didn’t look as spectacular as he thought it would and it reminded him of the cabin cruisers we’d see around the beaches in CT. He pointed out how those things can go pretty fast and therefore, someone had to be going really fast and maybe was drunk for such an accident to occur. The other couple was actually riding a water jet skier and it sounds to me like they may have been drunk or careless cuz it’s a lot easier to maneuver a 32-inch boat such as Gloria has. I’ve never heard of any report concerning Gloria or Emilio drinking or doing drugs, but they’ve got kids, so who knows, even though I doubt it as Tom does. I told Tom and Andy that I felt that even if the pigs found they were obviously drunk, they wouldn’t get arrested. Every pig loves a show. Especially one that’ll give them publicity, but mostly I feel they’d let them off the hook cuz they’re rich, famous, and have kids. Tom said it’s the other way around. That pigs are more conscious of shit involving the rich cuz they don’t want the rich to feel they can get away with shit. Maybe, maybe not, but O.J. Simpson’s gonna walk, I’m sure. The jury is probably terrified to render a guilty verdict due to fear of another riot.

We screwed earlier and now Tom’s watching TV before he crashes. At 8:00 I’ll be watching a movie, then will probably crash around 10:00.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 1995 Tom’s in the shower now. After, we’re gonna go over to his parent’s house, then out to eat.

I have a lot to write about, but I’ll have to do it later.

Oh, got another letter from Sarah yesterday.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 1995 It sure is hot out. There’s not one cloud in the sky, yet it feels humid.

Boy, was I sexually frustrated this morning! And a bit confused last night. Last night I thought we both understood that he’d go down on me and then we’d screw. Well, he went down on me but said he’d prefer to screw in the morning. I thought it was cuz he was tired, but then he was working on something in the back room. So then I said I’d like to ask him a question so I could better understand him. He said sure. I asked him how he had the gusto to work on stuff, but not to screw. He said, “I do have the gusto. I just prefer the morning. Can’t we do what I want?”

But all we do is what he wants.

Then he also said he still enjoyed going down on me, even though he was the doer and not the receiver. It got him hard and feeling good.

Weird!

Afterward, he did go in the bathroom for a good 10-15 minutes or so and it didn’t smell like he took a dump, so he very well could’ve relieved himself.

My guess as to why he chose not to screw last night is probably cuz he was built up enough and feared he’d lose control and cum. He really does seem to not only enjoy making me wait on stuff but also enjoy teasing me sexually. I don’t think he enjoys teasing me sexually as much as whatever’s up there, though.

Also, we discussed this waiting shit which I’ll get into in a little while.

Later…

Tom brought up a good point about why things get delayed. It’s hard to prioritize them at times. For example, the bed is a high priority, but we can’t treat it that way cuz we won’t have $600 to spare soon. Especially if we’re gonna save up to go back east in May. Priorities can abruptly change too, throwing off all the original plans. I may prefer a kid over going back east, but I know that’s just a fantasy, therefore, I’m gonna strive for the trip in May. Now, he says he prefers the kid over the trip too, but I know that’s bullshit, therefore, I’m sure he’s really knowingly, intentionally, and willingly doing all he can to enable us to go in May.

Well, I covered what was confusing and weird last night about sex (that’s Tom for you) and now I’ll cover what had me frustrated and a bit pissed. We fell asleep together last night saying we wanted a romantic morning (this morning). But what did I do at 5:00 when his alarm went off? Woke up wheezing. And he says it’s not a coincidence and that nothing’s trying to get in our way and tell us something? Fuck that shit!

Again, I ask myself - why do I set myself up? Why do I let myself be let down? Why do I let myself be sexually teased, be it by Tom or by upstairs? Why do I let him tease me about a kid? Don’t I have more respect for myself than that? How can sex be so great, yet so complicated?

I made an appointment to see Dr. Rausch on October 16th at 4:40. Hope that’ll be no problem for Tom.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 1995 I’m working on a project for Tom. I’m going through my signing book and picking out the most common words used. Then I’m typing them up for him to film me signing the list so he can learn some signs. I told him, though, we’re talking about 400 or so signs and I’d appreciate not having to do all this work for nothing. So, I let him know that if he really wants me to do this and isn’t gonna just let the tape sit around and forget all about it, I’ll do it. He says he wants me to do it, but I still wonder just how many months it’ll be before he checks it out once or twice. Everything’s a waiting game for him. All he can do to put off anything and everything, he does. He’ll never read my story and if he says he’s got no time, it is an excuse to me. He could read a few pages before bed and while he was watching TV.

If only he was neater and didn’t procrastinate or play sex and baby games with me, he’d be perfect. But none of us are perfect, right?

He’s got me by the neck on Robin’s case. As long as he takes to do the next step which I can’t do myself, I’m stuck.

Later…

See? It always works. I hadn’t heard from Sarah in a while, so I sent her two envelopes two days ago and just got a 10-page letter from her today. I had feared she may have written and that her letter didn’t get here. The mailman fucks up still and today I got a piece of mail to Irene Wheeler. I don’t think anyone can be so stupid that often and that it’s accidental. I think he’s playing games.

Later…

Andy called for me to read him Sarah’s letter, so that’s why I didn’t write much before. I hope Sarah writes to Andy, cuz he’ll read it to me. Sarah really loved my letter and hers was friendly, open and honest. She’s definitely the best pen pal I’ve ever had and says to look for another letter.

I sure got some color today. The pool’s pretty cool, but not yet unbearable. I’ll have to tell Tom that the thermometer in the spa’s broken. The one in the main part of the pool’s OK, though.

Tom says the U-Haul leaves daily, but someone parks it there at night.

I have an idea that I’m gonna experiment with to keep myself on a day schedule. Every day, except on Fridays, I’ll set my alarm for 7 AM. Fridays will be catch-up days, so I’m not beat and bitchy over the weekend. This way, if I end up only sleeping from 3 or 4 AM to 7 AM, I can catch up. I think that’ll be better and less stressful for me if I do it that way, rather than every day.

I asked Andy if he thinks I’ll get Gloria’s introductory kit soon. He says that could be bullshit. It’s been about a year, so yes, that could be bullshit.

As I figured, Tom said it’d be fine if I used the Christmas cards. I’m sending 1 to Alex, 1 to Andy, 4 to Kim, and 4 to Bob.

Later…

Tom’s digesting his dinner. Then we’re gonna play around and after I cum and he doesn’t, I’ll start winding down till I crash.

Law & Order was disappointing. The 4th cop on the show is gone. Why does everyone quit that show? That’s 6-8 people that are gone now and have been replaced.

I forgot to make an appointment with Dr. Rausch after October 1st. I’ll do it tomorrow.

What else can I say at this time? Not much. I’ll have all the signs typed up tomorrow. I told that to Tom and he said he wants to go over it with me then and give me feedback.

I also got my puzzle book in the mail today.

Andy’s roommate Michelle has also been in fan clubs of various people. She says the response time varies from when you fill out a form to join. She said Fleetwood Mac took a while. She never heard from Laura Branigan, but Pat Benatar and Sheena Easton were punctual.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 1995 My day’s been off to a fun and romantic start.

The U-Haul is still next door, but now the blinds are shut.

I just came in from outside. This winter I don’t want my tan lines to get barely noticeable like all the other winters I’ve been out here.

That damn cat Oreo is beginning to be a problem and I wish I had a pellet gun or a bow and arrow. It shits all over the yard and it fucking stinks!

Andy was right when he said Marla was full of hot air about leaving me a message on AOL. I’ve gotten nothing from her. I haven’t even heard from Alex lately. Did he go to Alaska yet?

I tried to look up Marla and Evan, but couldn’t find them. Also, for the hell of it, I tried looking up different spellings of the name that came to me and I found some, but nothing really meant anything to me. There wasn’t even any in Maine or Massachusetts. There were a few in New Jersey, one in Connecticut, and a few in a few other states.

Later…

Someone may have been working around the house next door, but I’m not sure where it was coming from. It could’ve been from one of several different houses. As close as these houses are, there’s no way to tell for sure.

I left Andy a message and read him the sexual bullshit stories of two women I’m writing Sarah. I can only think of so many serious things to write her, so I asked Andy what’s the best bullshit topic to write about and he said sex. I’m sending Sarah two envelopes today. One contains a 4-page letter and the first 4 pages of Robin’s story. The other envelope contains the remaining 8 pages of Robin’s story.

Did I send Bob the Robin case? Yeah, I think I did, but he hasn’t said anything about it. That’s the thing with Bob - I ask him to tell me what he thinks of a certain thing or ask him a question and most of the time I get no answer.

Later…

I just threw a TV dinner in the mic.

I’m pre-cramping, bloated and constipated - yuck! The low-grade fever was back earlier at 99.1. Luckily, this cold was so barely noticeable that I don’t even know if I can call it a cold. After I cranked up the EC, splashed cold water on myself, and laid down for a few minutes, I felt much better.

Later…

I just ate whatever I could of my TV dinner. I don’t have too much of an appetite.

It’s amazing how every time I go outside, there are flocks of birds and pigeons on the loose block wall pieces where I feed them. Even if there’s no food, they’re there.

I beaded two 2” strands to hold all my barrettes since I’ve decided I want them all in the same area. I only left 3 barrettes in the bedroom that are uglier. I have these strands holding about 20 barrettes in the music room and there are also about 8-10 on the cord to the blinds.

Tom and I only slept for about 6 hours. He got up at 11 PM and I got up at 4 AM. I could tell he was instantly horny, which was nice, and he was rubbing against me. He told me to have my coffee and wake up and that he’d wait for me in the bedroom. He went to pee first, and I could be wrong cuz I was still half asleep, but it seems to me he had plenty of time to beat off. The other day I asked him if a guy could cum, then reharden and cum again a few minutes later. His answer was, “Yeah. It varies.”

I don’t know what to think or do, but I’m completely powerless over him. He won’t budge. It’s sad too, cuz this isn’t some asshole that’s doing this. This is a great person.

He told me the other day that he was honored that I love him enough to have a kid with him. It’s sweet to hear this. Then again, it doesn’t mean anything. When someone’s actions don’t go with their words, then what are you supposed to feel and think? His actions say to me, Hey, I’m scared. More so than you and that’s pretty damn scared. I have no faith in you as a mom, I don’t want it, etc.

He also told me the other day that since we’ve been sleeping together, the sex has been better than he ever imagined it could be. Yeah, so much better that he forgot to cum.

Also, as far as he’s concerned, two good screws are all we’ve had. Now that’s pretty low and insulting. So is he saying that all the other times we screwed didn’t matter or count in any way? Did he lie all those times he said it was great?

He also told me we are trying for a kid, and not to give up after only “two good screws.” Whether or not he thinks we’ve had one good screw or a million good screws, we’re not trying for a kid. We’re just fooling around and having fun. Trying for a kid means having fun and cumming in my book.

He just loves to insult and tease me with the issue of sex and a kid which he’ll deny all his life. Also, if God isn’t a hoax, then He really is damn against me having a kid. I haven’t prayed consistently, but I’ve made my wish, along with other wishes, well enough known to Him. The answer’s obviously no. If He really exists, then He knows I can’t quit smoking on my own. He obviously doesn’t want me to quit or else wouldn’t He give me the strength I need to quit? Tom said if he were God, he’d want the prayer asked every day for a while. Would God really interpret that as the person really wanting it that much? Or would He feel the person was being pushy, demanding, and selfish?

This is a long shot, but if Tom’s planning on cumming and us having a kid, he may have reasons for wanting to wait. Although he strikes me as someone who will always have reasons to wait.

We set a goal for me to make a CD by September 1996. As far as I’m concerned, it’s never gonna happen or will happen way later. I feel this way due to so many other things taking so much longer to happen. There are still things we said we were gonna do when we first met that we haven’t done cuz he’s either busy or not in the mood. I know it’ll be months before he ever helps me continue with the Robin case.

Anyway, he may want to wait cuz of my needing my teeth worked on, cuz of the trip in May, and cuz of the CD and other things like getting the business started and getting more money.

He swears we can afford a kid now, he knows money, etc. But $16,000 a year for 3 people? I don’t think so. We’d need more like $25,000 - $30,000.

He said, though, that the only way to get me going and motivated is for us to try for all our goals at once. Please! Does he think I’m stupid? I can just see myself trying to tell someone that. Oh yeah, we’re trying for a kid now. He doesn’t cum, but we really are trying for that kid! Right! Sounds pretty off the wall and ridiculous to me.

The trip in May could only be canceled by a lack of time and money. Nothing else, unless one of us gets in an accident or deathly ill, or if there were a crisis in his family. As I told Tom the other night, I have mixed emotions about that trip, whether or not we had a kid. I’d have preferred them to come out here first. We’re gonna be totally bored at the Bat mitzvah (I will be). Tom will hate the food. I’ll hate that climate and worry about my asthma and allergies. I’ll hate the bad memories from the place as well.

Later…

Well, well. The U-Haul’s gone. Someone’s definitely over there cuz their screen door’s open. It’s got to be only one adult. Probably the Realtor. They have a really nice security door. The kind we hope to get one of these years. However, due to the antics that’ll be part of everyday life moving in next door, I doubt I’ll want the door open.

Tom can also procrastinate trying to fix the bent window in the music room for all I care. However, it’d be nice to have it open late at night. If they have their window open late at night, though, which is only about 20 feet away, and if they’re up - forget it.

An organization for paralyzed veterans sent 10 free Christmas cards which I’m sure Tom will let me have for Kim and Bob. I loved the way they printed up the free address labels they also misspelled the last name. Haha

Tonight begins the season premiere of the new shows, including Law & Order. So, I’ve got a whopping 10-15 new shows to look forward to.

Mom S. called last night with nothing important, just a funny story about the cable guy. I guess he confused certain wires with phone wires.

She liked the squirrel and the other animal I shaded in (can’t remember what the other animal was) and is going to crochet it. She also liked the puzzle and hung it on her wall in the hall.

Lastly, she said the video of me at age 4 looked like a miniature of me today. She says when she looks at her sons’ pictures at that age, she isn’t sure who’s who.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 1995 It’s much dryer out, or drier, out there today, so that’s good.

My cold (if it really is one) is so barely noticeable and a joke compared to colds I’d get back east and when I first came here.

It’s very unusual for me to sleep 8 hours, then sleep for 4 more 4 hours later, but I obviously needed it and it helped.

Again - thank God for no baby at this time, cuz I wouldn’t have been able to get that sleep I needed. Especially with Tom going off to work.

I’m gonna go try to sing a bit, then I’ll update stuff after.

Later…

Just sang about 5 songs which didn’t make my throat sore like it did yesterday.

Earlier I cleaned the bathroom and vacuumed all the carpet. That made me feel a little hot and dizzy, so I revived myself by throwing myself in the pool as chilly as it’s gotten to be.

I’m still feeding our local birds here, which includes about 8 pigeons. Yesterday morning when I went outside there was not one bird in sight. Seconds later, they lined up on the electrical lines one by one to be fed. Now they’re always out there, even if there’s no food. I took a few pictures earlier.

Goldie called last night at about 6:30. I was asleep, but Tom talked to her. She was calling to say goodbye. They’re home now and hopefully, they got my letter.

I don’t believe I’ve written about the “echo edits” yet. Tom made an echo effect with an old monitor.

I just had to stop to sneeze and blow my nose. Then when I stuck a Band-Aid over the bridge of my nose it stopped instantly. I wish I knew this trick in Springfield! However, I was severely cursed there and was destined to suffer.

I’m making Tom Hamburger Helper for when he comes home.

Anyway, Tom and I sang into the mike which I recorded off of the living room stereo speakers. I sang and laughed and we both said whatever. I mocked a few edits. It sounds really cool and I love how each thing overlaps the different things we recorded.

I’ll write about what Kim sent after I finish cooking.

Later…

Well, someone’s watering the yard next door. If it’s not a Realtor, then I think it could be someone the M’s know. There’s a blue Blazer parked in front of the U-Haul that I think I’ve seen before. I hear someone rustling around out there, but that’s all.

Oh, how I wish it could stay this way forever! Soon the peace will be shattered by the constant sounds of kids and dogs. How much do you want to bet that God will have them move in right as the weather cools down? Even if there were one unpopular kid over there who’s an outcast, there’ll be dogs to deal with and then, in that case, I’m sure they’ll have way more company than the M’s.

Anyway, Kim sent me a letter and 4 pictures of her apartment It’s not as dumpy as she made it sound, even though it’s not like the ones we had on Elm St. It’s small but more modern than I thought.

She sent me the rappers. You take a ¼-½” piece of hair and wrap different colors of embroidery floss around it. It looks a little tacky and is sort of heavy if I do a piece from the root to the end, so I did 2 partials. At my left temple, I did a braid, then wrapped 2 inches about 2 inches above the ends. Under my right ear, I wrapped it 2 inches below my roots to 2 inches above my ends. I used pink and blue that came with the pamphlet for the one that’s braided. Then I used blue, black, yellow and orange for the other one. I ran out of red, purple and other color flosses. It’s pretty easy to do, but it takes time. Since I don’t need the pamphlet, I’m sending it to my nieces.

Since we’re not rich, I wish I could just quit smoking! A catalog came today with all kinds of clothes that are totally me. I added up everything I liked and it came to $600. Good, God! Why must everything be so expensive?

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 1995 Yesterday was a pretty good day. We screwed and he also went down on me. If he wasn’t really aroused, then he was doing a fine job of acting. Every time he was getting really close, he’d slow down or stop. And I thought I was scared to get pregnant! I am, even though it’s what I want, but little did I know I’d meet anyone more scared. Hey, he’s a guy and that’s how most guys are about the issue.

It’s nearly impossible to get pregnant 9-10 days before your period, anyhow. However, I wish there were a way to compromise with him, even though you can’t compromise about a baby. You either have one or you don’t.

I’m trying not to be so obsessed with the issue, as well as to continue to accept that it can never be. Sometimes it’s as easy to do as it is to say. Other times I feel like I’m just gonna freak out cuz I can never have a child. It’s sooo hard sometimes. Like I’ve said before, though, I do not doubt in my mind that this will get easier each year and that when it’s too late to get pregnant anyway, I’ll be very happy and grateful it turned out that way, just as I’m very glad and grateful that I never got pregnant by Ron or Bruce.

Late last night and yesterday afternoon, Tom said he saw a U-Haul parked in the driveway next door. We haven’t seen or heard anyone, so who knows what the scoop is?

I wonder if I’ll get Kim’s package today.

I’m rather surprised I haven’t heard from Sarah yet. I only hope to hell she didn’t send her second letter and that it didn’t get to me. I think I’ll start a letter to her.

Later…

Andy’s on the phone now, so I left him a message about what I’m about to say. Sarah likes serious letters but I can only think of so much serious stuff to write about, whether a lot’s going on or a little’s going on. Therefore, since I’ll never really be friends with her and probably never meet her, I’ll just type up some serious-sounding tall tales for her. Gotta wake Tom up at 5:00, but for now, I’ll go start Sarah’s letter. Watch, I’ll get one from her the day I mail hers out. I’m holding off on Kim’s till I get her mail.

Today, tomorrow, or the next day, Tammy should get the 3 disks we’re sending her.

Later…

Sarah’s gonna be happy. She’s gonna be receiving two envelopes from me. One will have the Robin case, the other a letter.

That U-Haul is still over there, but I haven’t heard any kids or dogs yet.

I don’t feel too great right now and have a sore throat, so I will write later.

Later…

I’m already feeling better. The fact that Goldie and Al are leaving today was on my mind, and so was the fact that I can never have a child. Nonetheless, my sore throat is better and my temperature has gone from 99.4 to 99.1.

I managed to dust the place, clean the microwave, and vacuum and mop the kitchen floor. Tomorrow I’ll do the bathroom and vacuum the rest of the house.

Just called the weather line to see what they say. Yuck! 47% humidity, only a high of 100 dgs. The bright side of it is that in a couple of days, it will be drying up.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 1995 I was up for quite a while yesterday (20 hrs) but got a lot done.

We didn’t have sex yet, but we’ll see. I asked him if the bet I know I’ll win is still on. He says yes, but give him an extra week. That’s fair, but fair or not, he’ll always need an “extra week” till the day he dies.

I got up shortly after midnight and was shocked to find Tom up.

He went to his parents’ house to work on Mary’s car. She was there as well as Nickolena. It took hours and hours to work on the car. Much longer than anyone anticipated, but Mary gave him $40 which was nice.

He showed his parents the video and his parents agreed that I looked Nickolena’s age of 16 months when I was 4. Also, Tammy looks older. She seems to be the only one in the family who looks either her age or older.

She was also happy with the puzzle.

Bad news for the printing program. It won’t run on certain older computers with certain software. Now who knows how long it’ll take him to find the problem and fix it? His attitude is absolutely amazing, though. He feels setbacks help him learn so he can move forward. True, but I’d really want to throw in the towel, if not then, drop dead. I tend to believe that the longer something doesn’t happen or go right, it wasn’t meant to be and in a sense, I’d be going against God and fighting His wishes. Tom says don’t try so hard and then things will come to you, but most people say you have to try and work for what you want. It won’t just come to you on a silver platter.

Got a postcard from Gloria’s fan club saying my introductory order will arrive soon. I’m looking forward to it, but I hope all her pictures aren’t current ones.

I got an herb catalog too, that I’d like to check out with Tom.

Later…

After Tom had a shitty day yesterday, I decided he shouldn’t have to have anything to do with laundry or making food. So, I washed and hung both loads of laundry out on the line, made spag, and made him a sandwich.

Just as the sun was on its way up was when I was outside. There must’ve been 100 birds out there with that same look Piggy gives me when I get up that says, feed me! There were 8 pigeons, so that was cool.

Tom’s in the shower now, then he’s going food shopping. Then I assume we’ll do some playing around. Well, there is a bright side to sex being only for me and that is that I enjoy it and love to get off. Better that one of us is into it than neither of us, huh?

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 1995 When Tom came home last Thursday he said I was gonna say, I told you so! Then he told me they offered him a full-time position at work. I told him I had a strong feeling he wouldn’t have to get a part-time job and that almost all of my strong feelings are right.

Yesterday we had a long talk about our situation that I wrote about and even read him what I wrote. I know nothing can ever be consistently good, but I just wish there weren’t so many things getting in the way of good sex. Why can’t we go for longer periods where sex is good? It’s not that I don’t ever want to have sex again, it’s just that I want to feel that he’s a part of it too. I want to feel more pleasing to him.

He brought up a point when he said, “I just couldn’t get into it, but it wasn’t your fault. We all have our days when we can’t get into a lot of different things.”

True.

He brought up another good point when he told me to imagine how I’d feel if he were the one giving up on me as far as the sex goes, the singing, the business, and whatever else. True as well. I don’t want to give up, but I don’t want to go running around in circles with him all my life, either.

Early in the morning, we’re gonna do some recording and videotaping of us playing guitar, keyboards, and singing. If we don’t complete the video this weekend, then we agreed on a goal of completing it by next weekend.

He set up an awesome thing, though. We talked, laughed, and sang through the mike and out the speakers and it came out with reverb and would echo about 5 times. It makes you sound edited, but each edit overlaps the other, unlike my edits. I ran an old edit tape from one box, through the mike and out of the speaker and into another box. It sounded OK but was a little distorted and bassy. There was static too, or buzzing or hissing, or whatever the hell you want to call it.

I left Andy a few messages with my evil laughter as well as me singing and talking. He thought it was cool. I’ll have to play some for Tammy and my parents one of these days. For Kim, too.

I wonder if tomorrow or Monday I’ll get that hair thing from Kim. Probably Monday.

Tomorrow is when we’ll probably send Tammy’s disks out to her.

There’s something set up wrong, cuz I can’t get into AOL to see if there are any messages from Marla or Alex.

Got a letter from Bob today who had nothing new to really say. He also sent me an article that he wants me to send to Kim. The girl in the article, Tom and I agreed, was pretty stupid for bringing her stuff in and not just the auto registration. Tom says he thinks it’s another visitor who stole her stuff from the prison she visited.

Later…

I’m making a chicken pot pie now.

I began to type up the beginning of this book, but now that I’ll be done with it, it’ll make it easier. It’s a pain in the ass when I want to write, then realize it’s out by the computer, just when I made myself comfy. I know my next book won’t include Tom cumming, but I sure hope it brings better sex. I just want to feel normal about it like a whole woman. Not some freak of a sexual outcast. Yes, it’s true that when we start sex we may not be able to get into it. Or, don’t think we can get into it, but do, but I just don’t want these weekly setbacks with problems and excuses of various kinds.

How can it be so muggy with the EC on? Even Tom had said it felt muggy earlier, but it doesn’t feel muggy outside. Better go switch the AC back on now.

Later…

I just ate and had a cigarette which I’m trying not to do much of.

It’s a pretty dark night out. Can’t read the writing on the top step of the pool, let alone see the drain. There are several stars out. It’s cloudless, though, which makes it darker. Clouds seem much lighter than the dark sky with no clouds.

Anyway, I began a letter to Bob which I’ll go finish. That’ll go out tomorrow, along with Goldie and Al’s welcome home letter.

Later…

Just finished Bob’s letter.

I can’t believe there’s still no one next door, but oh how I love it!!!!!!!! It’s great not hearing dogs and van doors that sound like they’re right in front of my face! Boy, am I gonna get compensated for this! Thank God I love music and fans, cuz I’m gonna really need them. I’ll miss these quiet peaceful nights. And days, too. I’ll miss the times of hearing only Tom talk if that’s all I want to hear. Soon enough I won’t be able to hear the TV and TV alone. There’ll be bouncing balls, screaming, and car doors with it. Oh, how I’ll miss these times!

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1995 I was just too goddamn fucking out of it to write earlier. Plus, Tom wanted to talk. Before I write up on what blew my fuse, I’ll mention a few other things.

Andy said he heard that Karson moved to Paysen. This is just a rumor, but I hope it’s true.

Andy loved the artwork on the envelope I sent. That striped design I put on the cover of the journal he gave me. The funny thing about it is that he’s posting it in the laundry room of his complex.

Mom and Dad called us tonight. They got their bird to say a few things. It will be on America’s Funniest Videos soon.

Mom gave me an awesome suggestion, and once again, it feels so good to have her bring up suggestions about stuff I’m into. She said she got the idea from a picture of me that I sent her with me standing in front of the block wall by our pool. She said there was a block wall around their pool on Nettles Island (I don’t remember it) and that people into art painted it a solid light blue-green, then painted in fish, manatees, lobsters, seaweed, etc. That’s an awesome idea! In fact, I want to go check something out, so I’ll write about other bullshit later.

Later…

I think my parents will like their next envelope. Bordering the bottom of the back of it, I drew fish, seaweed, and a starfish. Also, I’ve outlined that scheme on the wall in the music room.

Andy was supposed to call at 5:00 for me to call his dad. Guess he fell asleep.

Now I’ll get into the shit that began yesterday morning. I had been feeling so good. So much better about our sex lives than ever, and Tom had said he felt the same way. Last night, though, I got to wondering - what if he feels like he’s losing control and may cum and is therefore scared of me getting pregnant? So, yesterday morning I started doing him with my hand, then he came out and said he couldn’t get into it cuz it was too planned and not spontaneous enough. There’s always a fucking excuse!!! So, finally I told him. “Look, I’ve had it. Just when I felt better than ever, you pull this and make me feel like a freak.”

All cuz our sessions are sometimes planned? Give me a break! I’m so psychologically sick of this and these sex and baby games. I can never be good enough or do anything right sexually for long enough. There’s always got to be a problem, excuse or setback and I’m so fucking sick of it.

Why do I bother? Why should I bother when all will go well for a week or two and then there will be another problem that he’ll swear isn’t my fault but will imply otherwise that he may as well say it’s my fault?

He does a great job of making me feel like I’m not good enough sexually. We’re just not compatible sexually. I never had this fucking problem with women.

Then he tells me that in his mind, we just started. Every fucking week he’ll say that!

He tells me he won’t ask me for sex, but he’s not afraid of me having a kid, don’t give up, it’ll get better, everything has its setbacks. Fuck this shit! There are too many setbacks and I’m fed up. I’ve had all I can take and refuse to go through this month after month and year after year.

He told me that the only negative thing about when I woke him up for sex was that it seemed to him like I came into the room, we did whatever, then I left.

Now he tells me this? Why didn’t he tell me before?

So, I was right. Sex is all one big act on his part. He’s not really into it. He just does it to please me. I wonder how many other hidden negatives he has. From what I’ve learned and have seen, people who lust or lust and love each other can get off anywhere whether it’s planned or not.

I’m just sick of feeling like an isolated freak who’s all alone in this situation. Things go OK for a while, then there’s a problem and while he swears he’s not blaming me, it’s here’s what I can do to help him. But only HE can help himself! If he doesn’t want to cum, I can’t make him do it or help him.

He explained his weird feelings about the injection. He said my getting the injection would block/pressure him during sex cuz he’d be sad we couldn’t start a family and he’d have to adapt to that. Oh, boo hoo, poor baby! Well, how the fuck does he think I feel knowing, OK, we’re gonna screw now, but we can’t start a family cuz he won’t cum?

Then I also have to go through the feelings of feeling like half a woman. I don’t feel one bit sorry for him. Not one fucking bit and how the hell can I ever have any kind of sex with him again with all this shit hanging over my head? There’ll just continue to be one problem after another where I’ll feel like a sexual outcast. Well, I’m retiring from this game. I’m not gonna have my head played with and I don’t care whether it’s intentional or not. I’m sooooooo fucking sick of it!!!!!!!!!!

He tells me that by not trying to improve our sex lives and have a kid I’m punishing him. Yeah, I’m punishing him. Just like he punished me with these issues, but that’s a small part of it. The big part of it is that I cannot have sex with someone who I feel is literally abusing and playing with my head with it. I can’t let someone touch me whose heart I feel really isn’t in it, who’s doing it for me and not us, who says they want a kid but doesn’t.

Then he has the nerve to totally contradict himself by saying I have more hope for better sex and a kid than he does and that’s why I’m more emotional about it and how he feels trapped and hopeless. Bull fucking shit! I have below 0% hope and that’s how I know it’ll always stay. How the fuck can he think I don’t feel more trapped, powerless and hopeless, cuz that’s exactly what I am!

There will be no kid with or without sex. There will be no sex, cuz I can’t fucking deal with it anymore. We’re just gonna have to deal with taking care of our own sexual needs.

He also came out and said that by throwing away the sex and kid I’m throwing away the singing and the business. Yeah, right! What the fuck have they got to do with each other?

Can’t this guy be as good, sweet, and as loving in bed, as out of bed? Well, I gave him two years’ worth of a chance and he blew it. He’s never even been half as physical with me as most couples are. He’ll just never open up, loosen up and let go sexually. I did try to help him, but only he can take charge and do that. He never did, so I’m beyond caring or wanting to bother. He’ll have to think of new games to play with me.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 1995 Hey, I just wrote 3 songs!

Got some fairly shocking, yet nice news to start with. This may happen once a year, but yesterday’s sex was awesome. As soon as he was inside me, I said to myself, wow! He’s closer than he’s ever been. Then I said, nah. He tells me he’s almost always close. Sure enough, though, when we were done he said he’s never been that close and that there’s no comparison to how close he was then within the past. I know not to count on this being a common occurrence, but it sure made me feel good. More normal and womanly, I guess. He took my hope of having a kid which is usually between 0% - 1% and made it 2%. I had about a second there where I feared possibly having to go with no smokes for 24 hours.

He said to me, “I’m doing lousy with the weight bet, but I’m gonna win this one, so you better get used to the idea of that 24 hours with no cigarettes.”

I’m still 98% - 99% sure he won’t cum, but if he only cums once at a time of the month that I can’t get pregnant only for the sake of me having to not smoke for 24 hours, I’m gonna be pissed!

I spoke to Andy who’s thrilled that his money problems are solved due to Michelle moving in. Now his rent will only be $175. This is also a good way to see how well they can live together for the next 6 months when his lease is up. We both think it’ll work out fine cuz he gets along better with Michelle than he did with Bug.

I called Marla for him cuz he wanted me to have her call him. Marla says she’ll be sending me an email on AOL. Tomorrow at 2:00 I’ll be calling his father so he can wish him a happy birthday, and he’ll pay us back.

I haven’t read Andy my songs yet, but Tom saw them, of course. He rated Walk Towards the Light a 7, Entity an 8, and Unplanned Fate a 9 with the potential to be a 10.

I sang earlier and recorded myself singing and playing the guitar to The Sweetest Gift.

Later…

Andy’s gonna be calling, so I may get cut off.

I asked Tammy if she got a tape from Mom and Dad and she got the same one I got on her birthday.

Tom got more work done on the back room and with other stuff than I thought. I guess the reason it seemed differently is cuz I’ve never been that busy or had so much stuff.

I took those same plastic notes I traced on the wall and traced them on an all-white T-shirt. Then I colored them in. I’ve had these notes for 10 years and little did I know just how useful they’d be.

Later…

I finally got ahold of Kim who’s doing fine and miraculously will be able to have kids. She’ll be out of work for one more week. She said she got all kinds of single sheets of stationery for 37 cents apiece in Maine before her surgery. She stood with her mother the first night, was throwing up and sore, but is much better now. Afterward, she stood with her grandmother in Maine for 3 days.

She also received that hair thing, so she’s gonna send me that, pictures, and a letter.

Later…

I am so fucking miserable right now. I mean, I feel like a total failure. I should’ve known better. Why did I set myself up to fall?

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 1995 Well, well. I just checked the period & sex chart. Never have we screwed right smack when I was mid-cycle. Like I should be surprised, right? Did it just happen that way? Did Tom plan it that way? Did God plan it that way? Well, it doesn’t matter when we screw since he doesn’t cum anyway. I also still wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if I were sterile, either.

Back to the tape Ma sent. It was pretty cool to see, but those clothes, bathing suits, and beehive hairdos - gross! I admit to crying when I saw Nana and Pa. I miss them. Especially pa.

Boo, who’s married to Max, was Pa’s niece and is my mother’s cousin. Boo, whose real name is Dorothy (how she got her nickname beats me), has a son Kim and a daughter Rhoda.

At the Passover party, when we lived next to Nana and Pa, were my cousins Lori and Lisa, my mom’s brother Ronnie and his ex-wife June and a few others who I don’t know. My parents, Larry and Tammy were there too, of course.

Tom asked if I thought there was other stuff they cut out or if I was the bulk of the filming. I said I had no idea and asked him what he thought. He said he thought I was the bulk of the filming cuz I was the youngest and that’s how it usually works in families.

He also said he’d like to show the tape to his parents.

Tom said I looked more like I was 2, not 4, but as Goldie and Al reminded him, I was always small and never looked my age. I wasn’t always small widthwise, though. Al was saying how everyone else in my family is big and how even though Tammy was premature, she grew up tall and wide and was pretty heavy the last time they saw her.

We met them at a restaurant called Chili’s and we pretty much chatted about family and friends and places. Ruth was tired, so she stayed home.

I told them about the journals and the tape. She said she hasn’t seen this tape but is sure she will.

I’m gonna ask Tammy if she got any tapes, when she got them, and what’s on them.

We were all pretty teary-eyed when we said goodbye.

I asked them if they will be at the Bat mitzvah and Goldie said yes, if she’s invited. I’m sure she will be. So we’ll probably be seeing them again in 8 months, cuz if we don’t make it there it won’t be cuz I’m pregnant.

I put clear contact paper on the front and back of Ma’s puzzle, but we’ve got to get that glue and more contact paper anyway.

I did try calling 1411 to see what address they had for the M’s. It seems I remember hearing it takes 10 days for 1411 to update addresses and numbers, and they left on the 1st. They gave the same address, though, which is weird. Maybe they are staying with someone till they move out of state, but kept their phone and forwarded their calls to where they’re staying. At 7:30 yesterday morning I called (didn’t say anything) and Dean answered and said in a cheerful voice, “Hello, it’s Dean. This is not a machine. What’s up? What’s the deal?”

Now I’m gonna go type a list of the most commonly used words for Tom to film me signing.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 1995 I’m pretty frustrated right now. Do you have any idea just how much easier my life would be if I didn’t want a kid? Why do I want a kid, anyway? I wish I could figure that out. Why would I want to put myself through all it entails?

On Fridays, we make a list of stuff to do. Well, I’m so sick of him not doing all he says he’s gonna do or only doing a part of things.

He tells me I can always talk to him, but talking with him only makes him feel pressured and I know it turns him off and brings him down. He also feels like I’m attacking him. I’m trying to deal with this in silence, but it’s sooo hard. Are there any others out there with guys who get hard, but won’t cum? Am I really as alone as I think I am? I asked Alex if he’s ever heard of a guy like that. He hasn’t.

Why me?!?! Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

Later…

I just finished putting together Ma’s 1000-piece puzzle. Tom can still get glue for puzzles, but with a puzzle this big and loose, I think it’d be best to put clear contact paper on the front and back. I’ll get Tom’s opinion when he gets up.

I think I may have had another memory of Robin, but I can’t be too sure. It seems the night I was with her when we were on our beds before falling asleep, I was playing the game most kids play. The game of - guess what color, or number, or animal I’m thinking of?

No wonder Karson hasn’t called me or Andy. Her phone’s been disconnected. Andy said she wouldn’t just blow us off forever.

Great.

Later…

As I knew real damn good and well - no getting pregnant this month. I must’ve ovulated for a short time which was this morning. This morning my temperature was 98.7 and now it’s 97.5. Plus, I was mid-cycle yesterday, so even if he’d cum, it’s too late.

I took a swim an hour ago and the pool water’s already cooling down. It was slightly chilly. It’s getting down to 40º at night back east.

I still haven’t been able to reach Kim. I sure hope she’s OK. It was nice of Tom to ask if I’d heard from her this morning and reassure me about her and say we’ll see each other again.

This weekend we hope to make a video of me singing The Sweetest Gift and White Rhythm & Blues. Tom will play the keyboards for both songs and I’ll play the guitar for The Sweetest Gift. It’s mainly for Lisa, but the other kids, Tammy and Bill will see it too, I’m sure. Maybe we’ll send my parents and Goldie and Al a copy.

Speaking of tapes - got a real surprise from my parents. Here’s what the tape contained: Nana & Pa in Florida in 1959 with Cousin Boo & Rhoda, Passover of 1968, Old Colony Beach in 1969, Nana & Pa at White Mountains in New Hampshire, and my 4th birthday

I’ll write much more later about that and our visit with Goldie and Al later.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 1995 Damn, am I getting gray hairs! Shall I dye it? Nah, not yet. I just trimmed my bangs a little while ago.

Tom’s still certain he’ll win both bets.

We began playing around earlier, but I had to stop cuz of knee pain I’ve had for about 4-5 days now. See? There’s always a problem with one of us, though it’s usually with him. Always something gets in the way. I find it ironic too, seeing how I could be ovulating right around this time. Coincidence? Doubt it. Anyway, I obviously pulled a ligament or something like that and it didn’t quite tickle earlier. I had it in an ace bandage and had to take an Ibuprofen.

After we screwed around the other day, Tom said it was almost perfect. He said the only two things about it he didn’t like were that the angle was off and that he didn’t cum. Yeah, right! I’ve won this one!

Kim was supposed to call me on the night of the 6th and have surgery on the 7th. I haven’t heard from her, though. Tom says he’s sure she’s OK, can have kids, and probably got talked into staying with someone at the last minute.

Soon enough it’ll be pleasant at night, so I’ll have to have Tom fix the bent window frames in the music room. He unbolted them, but they’re very old single-paned windows that are a bit crooked. I’ve never lived anywhere where I had such old shitty windows to deal with.

Tom refreshed me on how to use the Melody Maestro. However, every time we hummed The Sweetest Gift, it played back what sounded like a totally different song. I sang earlier while he played the keyboards. I even played a little guitar.

There was a problem with launching the print program. A message came up after we sent it saying it’d be reviewed by the staff, but we never heard anything about it. Meanwhile, he re-sent it an AOL as well as CompuServe and whatever else.

As for Robin, well, we browsed through AOL last night and got some ideas as to where we’d leave a message to try to track down others who may have attended this camp in ‘74. Who knows when Tom will do his part in this case as he says he will or try hypnotizing me? He’s always busy and 80% of the time he either procrastinates or can’t come through at all for whatever reason. I can tell you right now, the bee and cigarette machines are a bust. A big joke as far as I’m concerned. Also, if he wants to stall Robin’s case to do his “instill patience�� thing, he’s got me. There’s nothing more I can do in this case without him.

We’re gonna see Goldie and Al one last time before they leave for Boston Tuesday night at 7:00.

Later…

I’ll have to ask Tom to open the music room vent a bit more. I have the EC on now which blows very hard, but I can’t feel a thing and it’s a bit stuffy in here.

I did that strip of musical notes/G-clefs I said I was gonna do in the hall between the living room doorway and the linen closet. Almost a week ago I traced them in, but last night I colored them in with pretty pinks, purples and blues, then covered them with clear contact paper.

The hair that was shaved around my ear is on its way back. It can almost reach a ponytail. It still looks pretty funny, though.

Someone was definitely next door earlier, cuz the sprinklers were on and there were lights on over there till 8:30 or so. We’re pretty sure it was the Realtor or a neighbor trying to keep the place up. I’m sure no Realtor wants to show a house with either a brown lawn or an overgrown lawn. Plus, it was too quiet. No sounds of trucks, moving, kids or dogs.

Later…

I just woke Tom up for some tongue action, but personally, he did a shitty job, even though I did end up cumming, and doesn’t seem too happy right now. He said he likes that and that I could wake him up every night, even though I wouldn’t if he were really backed up in his sleep. Maybe he doesn’t feel well.

I forgot to mention this a few days ago, but no more Karson for me. She told Andy and me on our machines she was pissed and for us never to call her again. Neither of us did anything to her and Andy and I are sick of her. She does this constantly and God only knows how Andy’s put up with her for over a year. She’s always whining and bitching, and I smell Fran in her. I always have, but the scent is getting stronger and I don’t need any Fran’s, Nervous’s, Ellie’s, etc. in my life. I’ve come too far for that.

Later…

Tom opened the vent in here. Much better.

Tom also told me he’s just very tired and it’s a dismal feeling to know he’s gotta get up super early the next 3 days. I said, “Then how will we manage a kid?”

He said, “You can’t compare that, honey.”

How can you not? I guess it’s a matter of how much you want something. For example, I’ll do more to see to it that I’m awake and functional to see Goldie and Al, rather than Andy cuz Andy lives here and isn’t going anywhere. Who knows how many years it’ll be before I see Goldie and Al again after Tuesday? The next time I do see them, whenever I do, it’ll probably either be in Florida or MA.

My encounters with Robin aren’t as frequent as they were in the beginning and I don’t think I’ll ever get her name, but I’m still so curious. If she’s alive - who is she? What is she? Where is she? What does she look like? Will I ever really know for sure? God, please! If you really exist, God, and aren’t a hoax, please help me! Help me find the answers!

Later…

I can’t believe it’s not even 11:00 yet. It feels like it’s 1:00 or 2:00 in the morning.

Today and tomorrow, when I’m most likely to ovulate (if I do), Tom will be too tired. He’s getting up at 4:00 and won’t be home till 5:00. Then we’ll be seeing Goldie and Al and by the time we get home, he’ll have been up for almost 18 hours. I used to believe Tom might try avoiding me at those times and still do. However, I also believe some kind of outer force is gonna see to it that we can’t get together during the times I may be ovulating. God really insists on keeping me childless, but why give me a guy who won’t cum and do all this shit? All He has to do is sterilize me. On the bright side - I’ll never have to worry about Tom winning our bet and having to go 24 hours without smoking.

I was shocked at who I saw at 8:30. First, though, when I first met Dean, I could’ve sworn he had blond hair and wore no glasses. For the last several months, the guy I’ve seen over there had brown hair and wore glasses. Was I wrong about his being a non-four-eyed blond? Did he change his appearance cuz of something wrong he did that he’s hiding from? Is it a different guy?

Anyway, at 8:30 I noticed the lights were on. I saw him in there, but the place was still empty. All I saw was what looked like a small shelf or table with some magazines or books on it. I didn’t see his van at all.

Holy shit. I dialed their number wrong the last time I called, thinking their number was disconnected. No wonder I saw Lenore on the phone. This means they either left it connected or moved somewhere else in Phoenix cuz their phone is connected. They have a regular answering machine. I’d say the phone goes next door cuz they hardly ever sleep, so I’d assume they could answer their phone anytime for the most part. If they moved out of state, maybe he stood here but is staying somewhere else to take care of selling the house. When the new kids, dogs and whatever adults get there, I’ll settle my curiosity and call info. By that time, they could tell me if they were still in Phoenix.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 9, 1995 I’m lying in bed now next to Tom who’s going back to sleep. I had woken him up cuz I saw a huge black bug of some kind in the kitchen.

OK, here are the bets, but the first one’s not all that far out or impossible. Tom wants to get under 200 pounds (he’s now 206) within a few months as a short-term goal. His long-term goal is to get to 175, so that’s about 35 pounds he wants to lose. He said if he loses, he’ll be my sex slave for a week, even if he’s tired. He hasn’t figured out what I’d owe him if he wins yet.

As for the bet, I’m 100% sure to win – well – I made my thing to do if I lose impossible for me cuz I know I can’t lose this one. If he loses what I’m about to tell you we bet on, I told him he owes me nothing. If he wins, I have to quit smoking for 24 hours. When I made this bet with him, I was astounded he went for it and agreed with it. I was almost certain he’d say no to it. I bet that he has to cum within 30 days and it’s got to be something I can see or feel, but be absolutely sure of. Can you believe he agreed to it?! It could be a good cover, though. He knows I know he wants me to stop smoking and he knows he owes me nothing if I win and I will win this one. The weight one, who knows?

Earlier I asked him, “If you knew you needed the closeness of sleeping together to cum (so he says), then how can you have assumed my being pregnant last spring when for all we knew back then, it’d be quite a while before we were sleeping together?” His answer was that he had no idea that not sleeping together would bother him so much. I fully believe him cuz neither did I. I always had wished there was a way we could’ve slept together, but it didn’t really start becoming such a big deal to me till a few months ago. I feel so much more normal now. Different is good, but different can also make you feel a bit weird and freaky. There have always been things unique about me that I was happy and comfortable with, as well as stuff that’s unique in what I feel is an uncomfortable way.

I still can’t believe my parents got me journals!

One of the 20 hair accessories they sent is a round gold thing for when you put your hair in a bun. It’s not easy to use when your hair is so thick and long, but I managed. The thing is like half a hollow circle with a pin-like thing you slip under the bun and through it. It’s a hard thing and style to describe, but it’s been around for eons.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 1995 Got the package from my parents today and am totally astounded at what they sent.

They sent me 20 black and blue pens. I’m writing with one of them right now, but it blots so badly that I’m gonna switch. I think I’ll use this Bic cuz it blots less, and I tend to write sloppy when I have so much to say. I write neater with these than I do with the Precise markers. They also sent a pack of 6 markers, watermelon seeds, a notepad, and a planner, which is great for the business.

They sent 20 different barrettes which are beautiful.

Now here’s the shocker - they sent 3 gorgeous journals! I can’t believe my parents sent me journals! I’d cherish them forever if they were ugly but they’re not. They’ll be numbers 99-101. I always hoped they’d send me journals cuz most of us always love it when our parents take some kind of part in the things we love to do. In the almost 8 years that I’ve been writing, they never asked or said a word about it. Throughout the years, I’ve picked out most of my journals, but when Tom, Andy, and now my parents have gotten me any, it makes it all the more special. I am so very touched and I told them this in my letter to them and thanked them like crazy.

Tom guesses that I’ll hit 100 this November. My guess is January of ‘96, but we’ll see. It’s cutting really close.

As for the Gloria fan club - the check hasn’t even been cashed yet.

I did what I said I was gonna do for that journal Andy brought me. It looks a million times better.

Today I sent Larry a letter. Tomorrow letters will go out to my parents, Kim, Tammy, and I’ll also send Sarah’s birthday card. Monday I’ll send Kim’s birthday card, Bob’s letter, and maybe one for Andy.

Goldie and Al are flying back on the 18th, so on the 16th, I’ll send their letter which they’ll get right around their arrival. I’ll P.S. it at the end and put: Al, what do you do with coffee?

Before I get to the outrageous bets Tom and I placed, let me get into a couple of outrageous nightmares I had.

In one of them, Tom got pissed at me for who knows what. I guess this happened at night and when I awoke in the dream he had already gone to work. Meanwhile, he had trashed and smashed the entire house.

In the other nightmare, we both decided we didn’t want Piggy anymore, but neither of us wanted to bother to find someone to take him. So, we threw him in the dumpster. A few days later I changed my mind and decided I wanted Piggyback. Tom said he was missing him, too. So, we went out to the dumpster and Tom peered in it. He then turned to me saying it was too late. Then, I peered inside the dumpster. Piggy was all covered with maggots. How gross!

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 1995 I told Tom of my current news as to finding Robin yesterday. He says he expected it to go this way and that this part of it had to be played out. He said there was no need to give up and that we can put a message on the Internet looking for anyone who may have been at that camp during that era. He still feels that if I don’t give up, and that if he bet money on it, we’ll get her name. Oh, I sure hope so! Right now I feel it’s a long way away if we do get a name.

Lenny K said not only could she have been a supervisor, but some kind of specialist. A specialist? What kind of specialist?

Later…

Tom just ate and is digesting.

Meanwhile, Andy brought two boxes of Cocoa Krispies, his tape for his messages, and that shirt and journal. The shirt is too big and too lacy. He can give it to Pam. The journal is ugly, but I can always get contact paper for it. It obviously belonged to an Arab guy who I’m sure will be happy to know that a Jew has it now. He wrote a few pages in the front which I tore out cuz their corners were ripped. They had several names of different colleges and universities. The last 3 or 4 pages, which I left in, had names and numbers that were out of state.

I just got an awesome idea for that ugly journal cover! I’m gonna draw up designs or whatever on paper, then attach it with clear contact paper. That’ll act as a protective coating since taping or gluing it on will be useless. Plus, the paper would rip in no time. I’ve got a couple of design ideas that I’ve been decorating envelopes with. On Larry’s envelope, I drew a musical note with an underwriter marker. Then inside of it with an overwriter, I wrote: Oh, no! Tammy called! I’m sure he’ll get quite a kick out of it. Sandy, too.

I had two really raunchy nightmares, but I’ll write about them later.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 1995 Oh, I’m so fucking frustrated now! No package or mail of any kind today. Of course, the mailman’s still delivering other people’s mail, too.

Anyway, Andy told me yesterday that he had a better vibe for if I called Lenny tomorrow. That’s what I was gonna do, but when he called me today, he said he had just as good of a vibe. Well, believe me, I would’ve gotten the same results on either day. He was right, though, when he said I’d get more than I expected. I didn’t expect another wild goose chase, that’s for sure.

I called Lenny with Andy on the phone. Lenny said his records only went back to 1980, but that I could call his predecessor. His name was Herbert K. He lives in Wellesley, MA. He said he left the camp in 1963 and that he’s not quite Lenny’s predecessor. After Herbert and before Lenny, there was an Al K, but I can’t find this guy who’s supposedly in the Newton, MA area. Maybe I should try seeing if the Jewish welfare board has records. He also gave me the name and number of a Ruth T in Framingham, MA. She registered all the kids. When I mentioned the name Robin, she threw the last name R at me which does ring some kind of a bell in my head. She mentioned something about this person attending the University of Nebraska. Also, something about this person’s house looking like a castle in Lyn, MA when she drove her home from the camp.

I could only find one R (a slightly different spelling, though) in Lyn, but the woman who answers says she’s not affiliated with the camp and knows nothing about it.

I went through all this bullshit all summer long just to get nowhere.

Later…

Tom will be home any minute now, so I’ll write till he gets here.

I was gonna try recording with the Melody Maestro but was totally stumped.

Tomorrow I’ll call Barbara and let her know I’m at a dead end again.

Tom just called. He’ll be home in half an hour. Andy will be over tonight or tomorrow night.

Why does R sound familiar? Why do I still sense her? It isn’t that often but last night and today I have. She’s basically said don’t give up and don’t worry about the new neighbors.

Is Robin, or whatever the hell her name is, just a joke? Is whoever it is just posing as Robin? Who is this? What do they want from me? Why do I have this feeling her last name really could be R? What do I do now? I never wanted to give up, but do I really have a choice? I wish we had one of those national phonebooks, but would that really do me any good?

When they first moved out next door, Andy and I both felt the new neighbors would be a nightmare. Well, I know they will be, but right now he’s clueless as to how they’ll be.

I can’t believe that remodeled 3-bedroom house is only going for $67,000. It’s been great, though, not having them over there. Well, I’ll just enjoy it while it lasts, cuz it’ll only be a matter of time before I’m dreaming, wanting, and fantasizing for these quiet peaceful days to return.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 1995 I’ve been too busy, tired, and lazy to write much and I still am. Our visit with Goldie and Al was great.

I feel so much better now. Much more awake and my lungs are less tight. I ate, swam, and Tom whacked my back. It’s been kind of humid, so after being out for quite a while it caught up to me. Even Al’s allergies were bugging him. Also, I could afford to sleep for a good 10 hours or so the next time I fall asleep.

Sun City is absolutely gorgeous. I’d love to live out there. However, old people are the only ones in society who are allowed to live as they want without kids around and you must be 55 or 65 to live there.

Ruth was a very nice lady. Her house wasn’t too impressive, but very nice still. It’s still amazing to know that she lived here for 23 years and is returning to CT.

We had fruit and macaroni salad for lunch topped off with apple pie and ice cream for dessert.

Goldie told me an interesting thing about my mother. Well, as far as I always knew, Mom always hated to write. And when I was just a baby our family went to Florida. Goldie said she began to write a book all about it but never finished it. Wow. I’ll have to ask my mom about it, but I doubt she’ll say much about it, knowing her.

They also said Ma’s afraid of flying. Really? That’s news to me since I know she’s flown before. I think the main reason she won’t fly, whether it makes her uncomfortable or not, is cuz she couldn’t take her dogs that way. She could, but she’d never allow those dogs to be flown.

They also started to bring up the subject of wild parties about 40 years ago. Hmm… I wonder what that was all about? Al didn’t want it brought up, though.

Anyway, they were thrilled about my ear. I blocked my good ear and had Goldie say something. I heard her say I looked beautiful.

It was funny at one point when we were discussing Al’s allergies. First I suggested he put his face over a steaming pot of water and also told him coffee helps. Then he goes, “What do you do with coffee?”

“You drink it,” I said.

Everyone cracked up.

So, we were visiting for 2-3 hours, then we went to Walgreens where we got birthday cards for Kim and Sarah. Both their birthdays are on September 14th. Sarah will be 5 and I believe Kim will be 26.

We also got two pool noodles. Those long skinny Styrofoam-like things. We got a purple one and an orange one and they’re both about 5” long. We finished a roll of film with us playing with those as well as me doing my excellent pool handstands.

Tom put rubber rings around the screws that hold the ceiling fan’s light fixture, but it still makes this squeaking sound here and there, so he’s gonna investigate some more.

For $13 Tom got a CD with 1,000 disappointing fonts. There are only a few new ones I’ve never seen. The rest, we either have them or they’re rip-offs of other fonts. There are a few symbolic ones called harmony and dingbats and I went through and picked out and printed out some I like. There are musical notes, palm trees, stars, flowers, etc.

Andy and I have 3 things to swap with each other which we’ll probably do tomorrow night or the night after that. I have for him his message tape, that uncomfortable lace teddy, and some NPN envelopes. For me, he has that shirt, his new message tape, and that journal. He said the journal has dandelions on it.

I certainly didn’t buy this journal for its cover. I liked its quotes. The cover’s ugly, actually. The woman on it looks like a typical fat, plain-looking mom.

Later…

Last night Tom put a Band-Aid over his nose so I could see if he still snored. He did and I insisted there’s no cure for snoring and as long as we have the fan, it’s OK. He says he just needs to lose weight. I let him know he doesn’t have to, but he says he wants to and will be my sex slave for a week, even if he’s tired. I said that wasn’t good enough, he’s got to get off, too. He said OK. HA HA HA HA!!! This I’ve just gotta see!

This may shock you (it shocks me) and it may only be cuz this is how I want to feel and believe, but I’m starting to think he just may be getting closer to cumming after all. He says there’s no doubt in his mind, but for me, the real belief won’t “cum” till I see him cum.

Andy told me two strong feelings he had today.

Later…

Cool. Tom just showed me how to print out samples of each font. I’m gonna do that with my favorite ones.

So far, Andy was right on 1 of 2 predictions he’s made. He said I’d get no package today. He was right.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 1995 Kim had called so that’s why I ended up getting cut off yesterday.

Basically, my mom and I acknowledged that we each made mistakes, tried our best, and are appreciative of each other’s accomplishments.

Why not Valleyhead, though? She admitted Brattleboro was a mistake, but she never said anything about Valleyhead, which was a million times worse.

Kim’s going in for surgery on the 7th and will probably call me the night before. She may be a nurse, but she’s only human and will no doubt be quite anxious.

She’s also gonna call that night to see if I got anywhere with Lenny K. Oh, I hope! I can’t wait!

Kim said she did mail that secret admirer letter out, so Bob’s probably too shy and embarrassed to bring it up.

Yup, I’d say they’re definitely gone next door. I just hope and pray that we can have a month or two of peace before the new kids and dogs move in over there. I wouldn’t be surprised, though, if the peace is ruined by the new nightmare before I finish this book. I sure hope this is the book where I find out Robin’s full name. Then, if she’s dead or alive.

I finished typing journal 94.

Yesterday, when I talked to Andy, I sure was shocked to hear what he found for me in his apartment dumpster. A journal in perfect condition. He said a few pages were written in. That oughta be neat to check out.

He also found a thin sleeveless shirt that was pink with lace.

Later…

I’ve been busy doing various things, and Tom left for work an hour ago, so now I’ll write some more. Every so often they’re gonna ask Tom to work 2nd shift.

Now for some wonderful news. Goldie and Al called. They’re in Sun City and Goldie’s sister-in-law Ruth (Al’s sister) is selling her house and moving to W. Hartford. W. Hartford! Yuck! That’s no better than Springfield. They’ll be flying into Boston on the 18th of this month. Meanwhile, Tom was here, luckily, to take down directions on getting to the house on Monday at about noon.

That day I’ll also get birthday cards for Sarah and Kim. Also, glue for Ma’s puzzle cuz there’s no way I can flip it. It’s too big and the pieces are loose. They’re definitely not as snug as all the other ones I’ve done. I think I’ll go work on it now and enjoy the peace and quiet. No dogs. No vans.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 1995 I flushed the remainder of my Theodur down the toilet!

I was wrong. Those dogs are still there. I just heard them. I also heard the baby cry. Are they living in their trailer for now? But why would they do that, rather than stay in the house? And why disconnect the phone so early? I thought they were staying with someone else till they moved out of state. Or at the new house if they were staying in the area.

Last night they all drove in and I spied on them with the lights off from the window in the music room. I could see partly into the house. Their living room is a good size and it looks like it’s connected to their kitchen like the apartment I had on Bell Rd. was. I could see a few folding chairs, a radio, a plant, and that was it.

The weird thing was, though, I saw Lenore pick up what I think was a phone. She looked like she held it up to her ear for about 20 seconds, then she moved out of view with it. If she went to pick it up to see if it was disconnected, then why did it take her so long? It only takes 1 second. Not 20 or 30.

Tom just left for work and I’ve got the music cranked louder than I ever have before.

Now they have their trailer hitched to their van, and Tom says they’ll probably leave today. I wonder how well they can hear this music over all those screaming kids? If they can hear the words, then I’m sure they’ll really appreciate Sexy Motherfucker by Prince.

Later…

Holy shit. I just went out back to see if I could hear the music and I couldn’t. How weird. I mean, that music’s too loud even for me. I moved on out to the kitchen.

Today I’m gonna figure out the chords to the song The Sweetest Gift on the guitar, cuz I really love that song and want to record it. A couple of days ago we videotaped me singing Allison while he played keyboards and some of it was pretty good. There were a few notes that were pretty nasally, too. As a trained singer, certain things become so much a part of you that you can’t deprogram. Subconsciously, we breathe differently than those who don’t sing. Other things take serious focus and concentration, so when my mind wanders, or if anything sidetracks me, I get lazy and screw up some of my vowels.

This morning Tom sealed up the cats and the notes but when he went to seal up the notes some of them ran so I’ve got to color in a background.

Later…

I’ve got to clean my CDs. Some of them are really skipping. Soon I’ll call AOL now and see what mail is there.

I’m on the phone right now with Karson who’s not in a great mood. Right now I’m playing her a song she likes by KC and the Sunshine Band that I think sucks. After I get rid of her, I’ll write all about my phone conversation with my mother.

Later…

The van and trailer are gone now. Maybe all of them, their dogs, and stuff are gone. I can’t believe the house hasn’t sold yet, although Tom said the house was for sale for months before they moved in. I didn’t know that. Oh, it’d be so wonderful if no one was there for 4-6 months. Either way, though, whether the house sells now or in a few months, I must face and go through the inevitable, as I said before. There’s no avoiding it. It can be delayed, but not avoided. Oh, how I wish one of the 4 houses across the street with no dogs, no kids, or older kids all grown up could be plopped down next door and their house thrown across the street! I can dream, can’t I?

I had a great talk with my mother, but there’s one thing she said that’s got me contemplating lying to her and telling her I’m dancing. She said, “Get a little job, work with kids or at a hospital. Be a little more independent.”

She knows I am independent and that I have my share of responsibilities around the house, but since there’ll be no kid, I may as well make them a bit happier with a little lie and say I’m dancing part-time which I told her I was thinking about. It won’t hurt anyone.

Why is it that people think that those who are home with no kids are doing either nothing or not enough? Just cuz I don’t have a child doesn’t mean I can’t occupy my time well today, next week, next month, next year, and every year after that. It’s not always easy, though, and I have my moments of laziness and boredom, but I try. I try as hard as I can. Tom and I share our lives together and do things together, but aren’t each other’s parents. He can go to the racetracks or do whatever he wants and so can I cuz we know we’re #1 to each other and where our top priorities are. If he wanted to go out, but I was sick and needed him, I know all I’d have to do is ask him to please stay home and help me out and he would. The same goes for if he were sick. Meanwhile, we’re free agents with excellent judgment as to what to do and when to do it.

First Mom told me she sent out a package to us yesterday. She was teasing me by saying it was many bars of soap, toilet paper, and other non-edible stuff. Get it? She’s referring back to the days when I was broke. That’s the type of stuff they’d send me. If I don’t get the package tomorrow, I’ll probably get it Monday.

Naturally, I’m skeptical when she says that next summer is her target for coming out here, but nonetheless, she tells me she always thinks of me and has never stopped loving me.

Later…

I was talking with Andy, so I’ll finish with what my mom and I were talking about before I get into what Andy and I were talking about.

Mom said she realized the Brattleboro Retreat was wrong, but that she (cut off due to phone call)

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mysmorgasbordoffantabulosa · 2 years ago

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I was the anon asking is Tae could possibly just be supportive of his gay friends. It's okay to assume my sexuality, I don't mind but I'm bi. The reason I'm saying this is because as a bi woman, I don't go out of my way to consume lgbtq media. If I like a piece of art, I like it regardless of the artist's/character's sexuality. How should I put this... me being bi is not the most interesting thing about me, and for example, I'm also a painter, but I wouldn't want someone to buy my paintings just because I'm part of the lgbtq but because they have been moved by my art. So I consume art the same way as well. However, if I had a friend who wanted to see more representation, I'd search more media with people like my friend to show it to them, while if it's just for myself, I don't really care 😄 I don't know if I made sense but that's why I assumed Tae could be like me 🤷‍♀️ but I know a lot of lgbtq people are in fact not like me so 😅 different peopl, different opinions, different desires

Hello there,

I do agree that as queer people we consume all kinds of content, and gravitate towards various individual/artists we generally have interest in regardless of gender/sexuality. For example, I love Star Trek, Doctor Who and Harry Potter (despite J. K. Rowling's recent proclamations), Kandinsky, Bauhaus, Derek Jarman, Andy Warhol or Annie Leibovitz (I'm old school what can I say lol), additionally, I like Ed Sheeran, Rag'n'BoneMan, and I've recently fell in love with Sam Fender's music too.

However, I still stand by thoughts on straight people not actively seeking out queer content and culture, and then consuming it in great quantities.

You even said yourself that you don't go out of you way to consume lgbtq media, but that still suggests you still consume it, and you may have been more proactive about earlier in your life. Which is something a lot of straight allies wouldn't do, IMO.

A straight person my come across queer culture, may like it maybe share it, but a queer person is more likely to do that.

That's why I would find it strange that a straight artist would spend so much time quoting and highlight queer films/actors in the words and actions in the way that Tae does. An ally in my eyes just doesn't do that, yes they might promote the film a few times, or like I said wave a flag or even make a statement in support of us. For a straight artist to do what Tae does, in relation to queer content, could come across a little bit like queer baiting to me.

#my asks #taehyung

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incoherentbabblings · 3 years ago

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Are…are we allowed to ship TimSteph anymore???! 😭 do you think they are sunk forever?!

You're asking me - a gal who ships DickKory and DickRoy: two ships that we are most definitely never going to get/have be endgame once again - if a ship being sunk stops it from being shipped? Ohohoho my friend. You take what you can get after a certain point. T_T

Just because they're broken up doesn't mean it's the end. Remember they weren't a couple between 2004 and 2016 technically - that was 12 years! Admittedly Steph was dead or literally did not exist for a chunk of that but... You see! Not even death can stop those two. A part of me thinks give it four years and they'll be making out in front of Batman again.

To be more serious, Tim is very likely attracted to more than just women or men. Admittedly we haven't had his sexuality confirmed yet, but he's stated that he broke up with Stephanie despite still loving her, and the concept art for the Wayne Family Adventures webcomic has Tim with a little bi flag sticker on his laptop. You can argue against both of these for shaky canon status, but despite the lack of confirmation, most media outlets are claiming Tim to be bi. It's a pretty big oopsie for DC to let slide if wrong. Or at least I would consider it one.

Steph is Steph and had been written finding both men and women attractive with varying levels of 'how serious am I supposed to take that statement' for several years now.

We don't really know how she feels about being broken up with, especially as Tim won't speak to her. I have to say, that's my biggest bugbear with the whole situation really. I understand what they're going for, that Tim is still figuring it out himself, but I genuinely think Steph could help him. She's already offered help multiple times. It makes me sad for them both. Tim doing the thing where he withdraws emotionally and gets stuck in his head, Steph left wondering what she did wrong and how Tim doesn't trust her. It's not that simple obviously, but it must sting. It's a pattern with those two so it's in character, but frustrating nonetheless.

I really don't know if DC will ever put them back together again. I would very much like to hope so. I wonder if there's a fear of Tim being less valid as a queer character if he - a (assumedly) cisgender male - is dating a (assumedly) cisgender female. I think it's reductive and narrow minded to think of romantic relationships like that: trying to fulfill a criteria and tick certain arbitrary boxes for it to be valid. It crosses into biphobia to say the very least. But I can only speculate. And I try not to speculate because I just spiral and think DC as a headless chicken running around making things up as they go. Which they are a bit.

So long as Tim and Steph are canonically attracted to men and women I will still be that person going ahhhh when they stand next to each other. It is sad we won't be getting canon romantic moments, maybe for a while, maybe forever, but that won't stop me from enjoying their dynamic. I hope you can too!

The good news is now that there's no canon I am not constrained by my obsessive need to make things adhere to canon so I can go a wee bit bonkers with characterisation or plots as and when I write fanfiction. So that's neato.

#dc #ask and I'll babble #TimSteph

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bluejayblueskies · 4 years ago

Text

philautia

n. a love based on deep connection to one’s well-being and built upon a love for one’s self; a centered wholeness

Words: 2.3k

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Relationship: Sasha James & Tim Stoker & Martin Blackwood & Jonathan Sims, Past Tim Stoker/Sasha James, Minor Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood

Characters: Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood, Jonathan Sims, Sasha James

Additional Tags: AU - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff and Humor, Statement Fic (but not in the way you expect!), Aromantic and Asexual Characters, Implied/Referenced Homophobia (very minor), Implied/Referenced Arophobia (also very minor)

Summary:

SASHA

So, according to Tim, I’m supposed to be recording a statement on, quote, my “most swashbucklingest experience as an esteemed member of the LGBT community.” He left this recorder on my desk and stole my scone. Timothy Stoker, I will not forget that.

---

Statements of members of the archival staff at the Magnus Institute, London, regarding certain facets of their aspec identities. Statements compiled by Timothy Stoker on 10th June, 2016. For personal use only.

Ao3 link in reblogs

Or read below:

[CLICK]

MARTIN

—really don’t think this is necessary—

TIM

Aaaaand we’re recording!

MARTIN

(exasperated) Tim.

TIM

Oh, come on Martin, it’s more fun this way!

[MARTIN MAKES A NOISE OF DISAGREEMENT]

TIM

You cannot look me in the eye and tell me that this doesn’t appeal to your, and I quote, “retro aesthetic.”

MARTIN

(reluctantly) It… might.

TIM

See! So it’s perfect!

…

[HE SIGHS]

Obviously you don’t have to if you don’t want to, Martin. I just thought it might be nice—to have something to look back on when we’re all old and sick of each other, you know? Here, I can go first.

MARTIN

Tim, you don’t have to—

TIM

(overlapping, adopting the ‘Archivist’ voice) Statement of Timothy Stoker, regarding the first time he went to Pride with his brother, Danny. June 10th, 2016.

(cheekily) Statement begins.

TIM (STATEMENT)

(in his normal voice) I realized I was into blokes too when I was 15, you know. Think it took me a while because of the whole ace thing, though that took me until I was in uni to really figure out. I was still fine with sex, you know, always enjoyed it when it came up, just… never really wanted it with anyone in particular. So I suppose I’d assumed for a while that the things I was feeling toward other guys weren’t romantic because I never had the sexual parts to go along with them. (with wry humor) Almost ruined a few relationships that way, actually.

But I’m getting a bit off-topic. Can’t be one of those rambling statement givers Jon hates. God, I can see his face now, that thing he does with his nose—Martin, you know the one, the- the way it looks like he’s just smelled something really, really rank.

MARTIN

I thought you said you weren’t going to ramble.

TIM

Cheeky, cheeky. Okay, where was I. Right.

TIM (STATEMENT)

Mom and Dad weren’t real big on the whole bi thing, so the first time I got the chance to go to Pride was in uni. The first time I got the chance to go with Danny was after he turned 18 and got his first modeling gig. At least, I think he was already modeling back then. Point is, we were both out of the house, and Danny had been dying to go to Pride with me ever since I sent him pictures of me and Sasha eating an entire box of rainbow-colored donuts that first year. I’d figured out I was ace by then, but it had been pretty recent, so when we got there, I found one of the vendors selling those big flags you drape over your shoulders and got an ace one. Felt a bit weird having the ace flag instead of the bi one like the other years, but I had worn that pink, blue, and purple button-down Sasha got me for Christmas once, so overall, it felt all right.

And Danny—god, he loved it. Pretty sure he ate his weight in fried food that day.

[HE LAUGHS]

Almost got the aro flag he’d borrowed from Sasha dirty, actually, when he—

(quickly changes course) Ah, nothing! Sasha, if you’re listening to this, absolutely nothing happened to your flag, and I definitely did not have it laundered before I returned it to you.

TIM

Aaaaand that’s it! Statement ends, I guess.

See—easy! (a bit more seriously) But really—you don’t have to record one if you don’t want to, Martin.

MARTIN

…

No, I- I want to.

TIM

Are you sure? I don’t want you to do that thing where you just do something because you think someone else wants you to.

MARTIN

I do not—!

…

Okay, okay, fine. Point taken. But yeah, I- I’m sure.

[RUSTLING AS THE TAPE RECORDER IS PASSED FROM TIM TO MARTIN]

MARTIN

(with an audible smile) Statement of, er, Martin Blackwood. Regarding… a crush. No, no, wait—god, that sounds so juvenile. Regarding himself, and a person who- er, someone whom he—

[HE SIGHS]

Fine. Regarding a crush. Statement given June 10th, 2016.

Statement begins.

MARTIN (STATEMENT)

I’m always a little embarrassed to tell people that I’ve never dated anyone before? Okay, a- a lot embarrassed, actually. I try not to bring it up, but people will say things like, oh, you know how it is to shop for a partner or meeting her parents is definitely nerve-wracking—which is wrong on, er, two accounts, actually—and then I feel more awkward not telling them that I don’t know, actually, because I’ve never been in a relationship longer than a week or so. Then, they’ll get all sympathetic, like it’s some- some tragedy that I’m not involved with someone, and that’s worse, because then they’ll offer to set me up with people, or say that they don’t understand why I’m single because I’m a catch or whatever, and I have to give them some excuse about not interested at the moment.

It’s not that, not really. Dates with strangers, they- they just never work out for me.

I think I fall somewhere on the aromantic spectrum? I didn’t think about it much until Sasha mentioned it once over drinks—I think you were there, Tim, although you were (laughs) very drunk by that point. I told her I hadn’t had a crush on anyone since sixth form, and she threw around a bunch of terms. I- I honestly don’t really remember, it was kind of overwhelming and (laughs) I was also pretty drunk as well. But yeah, it… it sounds about right.

(hesitantly, as if bracing himself for impact) So… this person. Who I, er. Recently, that is, who I��

[HE CLEARS HIS THROAT]

It’s really strange, that’s all. And a- a lot. I—heh—I don’t really know what to do about it.

MARTIN

…

Uh, statement ends? I guess? I, uh, don’t really have anything else to say. (jokingly) It’s not like there’s any, er, follow-up or whatever. (to Tim) Was- was that okay?

TIM

(audibly smiling) Yup! Most excellent, Marto. (more seriously) You felt okay, right?

MARTIN

(huh) Yeah. Yeah, I- I did. A bit nice, actually. (quickly) As- as long as this stays in the archives, though. It… it is staying in the archives, right?

TIM

Oh, definitely. Right next to the section on love potions, I think.

MARTIN

Tim!

TIM

(laughs) Yes, Martin, it’s staying in the archives. Pinkie promise. Just you, me, Sasha, and Jon. (in the tone of a man who knows a great secret and wants nothing more than to share it) Speaking of Jon—

MARTIN

(quickly) Uh, recording ends!

TIM

(undeterred) —is he the—?

[CLICK]

SASHA

Right. So, according to Tim, I’m supposed to be recording a statement on, quote, my “most swashbucklingest experience as an esteemed member of the LGBT community.” He left this recorder on my desk and stole my scone. Timothy Stoker, I will not forget that. It was white chocolate raspberry, and I’m stealing the money it cost out of your wallet.

…

Anyway.

[SHE CLEARS HER THROAT]

Statement of Sasha James, given 10th June 2016. Subject of statement is… hmm. Let’s say… (laughs) A brief relationship with one Timothy Stoker.

Statement begins.

SASHA (STATEMENT)

Tim, I know you’re listening to this, and I just want to preface this by saying that yes, it was Italian that we had for dinner that night, not Greek. You’re thinking of a different friendship-turned-hookup-turned-awkward-aftermath-turned-friendship.

[SHE LAUGHS QUIETLY]

Anyway, I guess the best place to begin with this whole thing is by saying that I’ve known I was aro since I was 16 and that I’ve never been very good at talking about it. I’ve ended plenty of tried and failed relationships with the it’s-not-you-it’s-me talk because I didn’t know how to explain that I just… wasn’t interested in romance.

I wanted to explain it to you beforehand, Tim, I really, really did. We’ve had this conversation, I know I know—I won’t rehash it over tape.

[SHE SIGHS]

But the important thing is that I like you so, so much, and—god, this is stupid—I guess maybe I thought that it wouldn’t matter with you? That you could like me romantically and I could like you platonically and it would be fine. Like I said, stupid, but you asked me out to that Italian place—yes, Italian, for god’s sake, I had the chicken parm and you had some sort of lasagna abomination—and I just… couldn’t say no. And it was nice, really. I had a lot of fun.

And then we slept together. And… that was really nice. But then, the next morning, the… the guilt set in. Because I felt the same as I always had about you—which is to say that I loved you, just not in the same way you loved me—and I became convinced that I’d gone and ruined the whole thing.

Ignoring you for a week was probably not the correct response. (quieter) Yeah, definitely not my finest moment. But I’d gotten it in my head that the moment I told you that I didn’t feel that way about you and that I would never feel that way about you—or about anyone—you’d hate me. And you don’t have to say that you’d never hate me—I know you wouldn’t. I think I knew it then, too. But fear is a powerful thing.

…

Anyway, you know how it all turned out. You finally dragged me out to coffee and I finally told you why I’d been avoiding you and it was really, really awkward for about a month after that and then it just… wasn’t anymore. (audibly smiling) And you’re still my best friend, Tim. Even if you did steal my scone.

[THE SOUND OF PAPERS RUSTLING AND A CHAIR ROLLING BACKWARD]

Recording ends.

[CLICK]

ARCHIVIST

Statement of Kyle Henning, regarding a strange mushroom he found growing in his garden. Original statement given April 15th, 2011. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begi—

[DOOR OPENS]

TIM

Hey boss! Got a moment?

ARCHIVIST

(irritated) Tim, please at least knock when the door to my office is closed. I was just about to record a statement.

TIM

(unbothered) So if you were about to, that means you’re not recording one right now, which means you do have a moment.

ARCHIVIST

(flatly) Shut the door on your way out, Tim.

TIM

(brightly) Right you are, boss! Juuuust going to leave this here on your desk. Bring it back whenever you’re done!

[PAPERS RUSTLE AS SOMETHING IS PLACED ON THE DESK]

ARCHIVIST

(dryly) I’m fairly certain that I’m the one who assigns you tasks to complete, Tim.

TIM

That you do! I guess I better get back to them then. Have fun!

ARCHIVIST

(firmly) Tim—

[DOOR CLOSES]

[HE SIGHS]

ARCHIVIST

Right. Well, given that this recording is essentially useless now and I hadn’t even gotten to the statement, I may as well start over. (mutters under his breath) Bloody waste of tape and my time—

[CLICK]

[PAPERS RUSTLE. FOR A MOMENT, THERE IS ONLY THE SOUND OF BREATHING. THEN, JON SIGHS.]

ARCHIVIST

Before I begin, I would like to make it very clear that this is not an appropriate use of working hours or the tape recorders, which should be used for statements that won’t record digitally as per Elias’s request.

…

That being said, I am… not entirely opposed to this project. So, I suppose…

[HE CLEARS HIS THROAT]

Statement of Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London, regarding… regarding a black ring worn on the middle finger of his right hand. Statement recorded by subject, June 10th, 2016.

Statement begins.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)

I’ve often been told that I am not a very open person. I don’t necessarily intend to be closed-off, but I’ve also never found the need to disclose every aspect of my personal life to everyone I come into contact with. And yes, Tim—because I trust that you and you alone will be listening to this tape—that is a perfectly respectable way to live one’s life. Not everyone needs to know what I ate for breakfast that morning or who my favorite primary school teacher was.

…

I… will admit, though, that in certain circumstances, I… could probably stand to be more transparent regarding aspects of my personal life. Perhaps that’s why Georgie bought me the ring.

It wasn’t a special occasion. She just brought it back from the shop one day, a few weeks after a… particularly illuminating conversation about certain sexual identities, and dropped it atop my copy of Wuthering Heights. Honestly, I had no idea what it was at first. I- (heh) I tried to make a joke about unorthodox proposals, but I- I don’t really think it landed. Georgie just looked at me and said that she’d seen it on one of the online forums, that it was called an ace ring, and that she thought I might like it. I think I was more surprised about the fact that the ring fit perfectly than at the fact that she’d bought me the ring in the first place.

So I wore it. And it felt… nice. Understand, I don’t keep quiet about my romantic and sexual identities out of shame or embarrassment or indecision; I simply don’t feel the need to announce them at any given moment. So I’ve always been fond of small things—pins and stickers and such—that I can incorporate into my life, insignificant enough that they aren’t readily apparent to anyone but me, as they’re for me more than for anyone else. My ring is one such thing.

[THERE IS A MOMENT OF SILENCE. MORE WORDS SIT IN THE AIR, WAITING. EVENTUALLY, HOWEVER, HE SIGHS, AND THE WORDS REMAIN UNSAID.]

ARCHIVIST

Statement ends.

…

Right.

(with something that might be a smile) As for your other request, I do have a prior engagement with Georgie and Melanie this weekend. Though if you’re willing to accommodate two more, I’m sure they wouldn’t be opposed to coming along. Georgie’s always telling me that Pride is more fun when you’re with a group, after all.

End recording.

[CLICK]

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #the magnus archives fic #AspecArchives #asexual jonathan sims #gray-aro martin blackwood #aromantic sasha james #asexual tim stoker #sex-favorable tim stoker #biphobia //#arophobia //#(minorly for both)#my fic #my writing

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casmybelovedass · 4 years ago

Text

The Destiel Folder: Season 10

[Season 4; Season 5; Season 6; Season 7; Season 8; Season 9]

Episode 1:

Cas is slowly dying, practically naked, in a bed, and the first thing he says when talking about Dean is "I miss him" (6:35), with a soft smile. "Why would he just disappear?"

... I'm sorry but If Cas Were A Woman, this would look like a scene from a movie or something, where the wife talks to a friend over the phone about her missing husband. JUST SAYING

Crowley: "The girl seemed nice. Slightly damaged. I could see the old you falling for that." (9:29) uhm... who else is "nice and slightly" damaged? I don't know... CASTIEL??!!!

So... these two men (actors Todd Mann and Brad Mann) we see with the DemonGang, are real life twins (9:14).

At (27:18), Crowley states him and Dean did "extroardinary things to triplets" ... and, well, the only twins with a possible other sibling we see are... them

And this is not the first time we hear about Dean doing "things to triplets" with a buddy of his (15x07)... and the first time he was NOT a demon... so, there's that. And triplets don't necessarily mean "all females"

Cas, while talking about the good things that come with choices, mentions "hope, love, dreams" (39:06), and Hannah points out that "those are human things". Human things...

Cas is talking about his own personal experiences with creating chaos, so those are the things he felt after rebelling for... Dean... WOW. ICWAW, it would totally be read it as a reference to Dean. A romantic one. Fight me

Episode 2:

Cas is dying, just got back from a fight that left him wounded, doesn't have enough power to heal himself, is on a mission to restore Heaven, and once again he chooses to go save Dean (9:35), and the way rage builds in his eyes when learning Dean has become a demon. Look at this shit

I might be crazy, but this feels like a touching metaphor to me:

"I think you don't know what you want. Tell me, Dean. What are you? A demon? [...] Maybe you're human. [...] Why don't you do us all a great, big favor... and pick a bloody side!" (22:22)

METAPHOR

Episode 3:

We are reminded that, even tho in terrible conditions, on the verge of death, Cas is willing to risk it all to save Dean, and is devastated by the thought of Dean not making it (4:47 - 5:17)

This is so funny to me, I'm sorry, but Cas is so visibly uncomfortable with Hannah touching him, it's hilarious (15:58)

"I've been around humans for long enough to see how easily distractions occur. Emotions, feelings... They're dangerous temptations." (22:32) like rebelling against your own kind, destroying your home, falling... all for a human?

"I'm trying to keep our priorities clear." Moments earlier, Cas listed "Getting to Dean" (22:17) before anything else. In fact, Hannah says "I am very clear of my priorities... and yours." = Dean (23:00)

Cas is not sure whether the cure will kill Dean or not, and in any case, he wraps his arms around him, and softly says "It's over... Dean it's over." (35:40) as if hushing him to sleep, in what could have been their last moments together... wow. Think about this ICWAW

"Well, I can see his point. Only humans can feel real joy, but... also such profound pain. This is easier." (36:17) Look at the way Sam is looking at Cas looking at Dean

BITCH OKAY!!

SAM KNOWS

POSSIBILE future Empty reference "real joy"

Cas already stated he misses being human, but knows how fragile they are in both body and spirit:

Castiel really wants to be with Dean. For real. But maybe he thinks (see season 9) him being an angel is an obstacle to their feelings.

Only by being human he can truly be happy (MMMMMMHH SEASON 15), but isn't sure he could handle the pain that comes with it. A possible rejection, the thought of Dean dying, him leaving Dean... MMMMHHHHH

"You look terrible." [...] "Well, you, on the other hand, you... *checks out Cas* Looking good." (39:09) full homo right there. Also parallel with Ketch in 13x18 ("You don't look good." "Yeah, well, you're not my type, either.")

The way they are looking at each other here... man.

Cas is so happy to have Dean back, and Dean looks hurt about Cas leaving so soon.

"So... so, you're back?" "At least temporarily." (39:27) bitch, you know that's not what he ment.

In all of this, Cas is trying to make Dean feel better about the whole situation (DAT SMILE 40:18), and Dean replies with "I'm glad you're back, man.", basically no-homoing himself...

Cas starts walking out of the room, but stops and turns back [insert concerned husband here] (40:27), and Dean has that hopeful look in his eyes, like Cas is going to stay, and the hurtful look comes back as soon as Cas is gone

Episode 4:

"On your knees!" "Wow, I'm awfully flattered-" (34:33) SASSY BI DEAN IS THE DEAN WE DESERVE

Episode 5:

Fucking kill me NOW!!! Dean's reaction to Destiel is PRICELESS!! And even before he learns what that is, he just looks at the girls playing him and Cas and... freezes for a moment (13:18) And the eyebrow raise thingy at (13:34)... what's going on in your brain, Dean?

I'd like to point out that the Italian translation for "You can't spell 'subtext' without S-E-X" is, for once, AMAZING:

"It's just that... their bond is so strong it has subtext of a... sexual nature."

THANK YOU ITALIAN DUB! JUST THIS ONCE, THANK YOU! (13:43)

Also at (9:44) Dean immediately reacts to the implication of Wincest subtext, shutting it down and telling the girls to take a step back, but with Destiel he is like... alright

... this is so fucking cute, (25:54) Dean adjusts the girl playing Cas' tie so that it's messed up like the real Cas'. ADORABLE

SAM SHIPS IT (13:57) and is teasing the SHIT out of Dean, who reacts like someone being teased about their crush. Just saying (14:08 - 14:52) [AND THIS HAPPENS IN FRONT OF A PINK-BLUE WALL]

"I know I have expressed some differences of opinion regarding this version of Supernatural." (26:44) ... oookay meta? *turns to "Cas"* "And I want you to put as much sub into that text as you possibly can." ... oKAY?!

Episode 7:

Cas being extremely uncomfortable with women is too fucking funny to me (5:03 - 12:51)

Episode 9:

(15:13) Alright, so, this is a date... what now? Anyway, nice bi flannel, Dean. And the little sweet smiles you two are giving each other? So fucking precious (16:01)

"I ain't exactly a role model." "That's not true." (16:07) how Dean looks at Cas right after that? BABIES!

"How are you, Dean?" "Fine." "*I-call-bullshit look*" "I'm great!" "No, you're not." (16:18) #MARRIED

As Cas is choke-holding a guy, Dean, clearly amused (almost proudly), says "I'd do what he says." (22:17) Like that time with Raphael in 5x03, Dean likes it when Cas gets rough

Episode 10:

Shut the fuck up and marry each other already so you can finally actually BE the old married couple™️ you ALREADY ARE (22:17)

This is the "My husband is so FUCKING STUPID" look (22:30)

"I was hoping you might reach out to her." "... Me? I'm probably the last person she'd want to hear from." [...] "All I know... is she won't talk to me." (23:03) #MARRIED, PARENTS, PERIODT

Shut the fuck up. Cas is the dad trying to figure out technology (23:36) "I'll text you her number. I like texting. Emotions!" DAD

Cas worries about Dean like a wife would with an alcoholic husband

Of all the things Dean could be MAD about at Metateon... the first thing he can think of is him stealing Cas' grace (31:33) (okay, maybe he is going in chronological order but STILL)

Episode 11:

[I AM SO SO SO SORRY BUT DEAN USED THE ALIAS "PRESLEY" (18:55) I AM NOT OKAY]

Episode 14:

Have this deleted scene: Castiel and Crowley bitching over Dean, and Crowley calling Dean Cas' boyfriend

This is some hell of a goodbye-eye-love-making scene (26:57)

Cain compares himself to Dean... and CAS TO HIS WIFE COLLETTE [PARALLELS]

"You're living my life in reverse [...]

First you'd kill Crowley. You'd get it done, no remorse. (Cain had been killing his descendants, for whom he didn't care much)

And then you'd kill the angel, Castiel. Now, that one... that, I suspect, would hurt something awful. [And than Sam is Able, bla bla...]"

AM I WRONG?! YOU'RE GONNA LOOK AT ME AND TELL ME THAT I'M WRONG??!!!

Dean gives the First Blade to Cas... oKAY (37:10)

Worried brother-in-laws (41:27)

Episode 16:

This is such a good source of hidden meanings scene! Dean starts his "confession" as a scam. Everything he says at first is to attract the spirit.

He starts talking about seeing lots of women, not being able to control himself, and being sick of it. Then the real confession begins...

Dean feels he's going to die soon, and fears not death itself, but what he would be missing from his life.

"There's things... people, feelings that I... I would experience differently than I had before. Or even for the first time." (25:28) and the priest believes Dean is talking about love.

Well... "people, feelings"... who could he be referring to? Does Dean want love all of a sudden? People he wants to experience for the first time... uhmmmm... Is Dean opening up to his attraction to MEN??!! Or one angel in particular?

ICWAW we would guess Dean was talking about Cas

"Who mixes their blood and bones into paint? No woman has ever done that for me." (39:19) UHM- Dean, what about

6x20 "He has bled, died bla bla bla for us",

7x21 "I'm always happy to bleed for the Winchesters" or

9x22 "You just gave up an entire army for one guy"

ICWAW we would ALL roll our eyes at this statement and scream CAS

THE GUY BLED, LOST HIS HOME, REBELLED, DIED FOR YOU!! HE REBUILT YOU PIECE BY PIECE FROM HELL- SAVED YOU DOZENS OF TIMES!!!

Episode 17:

About saving Dean from the Mark: "We won't- (free Metatron)" "Yes, you will... because you're desperate." (9:44) Hannah knows. Let's remark that

"All I'm getting from you is... colours." (14:26) bitch he is a walking 🌈PRIDE FLAG🏳️‍🌈

Notice how, when we get a Sam-Cas centred episode, we don't get the same interactions with Dean-Cas? Why this?

Dean is always ready to call Cas a "brother", but the only one true bromance here is Sam and Cas'. There are no longing stares, no weird sexual filled dialogue nor tension, NO LONGING STARES

Facts, my people. Facts

Episode 18:

"You killed my friend." "Oh, pff, Dean is fine, mostly. Can't you get past that?" "Never." (12:39)

Charlie being excited about meeting Dean's famous boyfriend is WHOLESOME (37:34)

To have Cas back, 100%, safe and sound, is a win for Dean (38:58) and the face Cas makes after Dean hits him with another no-homo "It's good to have you back, pal." is "UHH not this again". Charlie already ships it

Episode 20:

A #MARRIED couple and their daughter. NO ARGUMENTS VALID (7:06)

Look at how they enter the motel (16:22)

OH MY GOOOOOD!!! #PARENTS coming back home from shopping!! THE HAND ON THE SHOULDER!!! Also

"Happy birthday. I got it at the Hot Topical" DAD

Dean: "Imma head back over there." Cas: "I'm coming with you." Claire: "I'm coming with you too." (17:24) #FAMILY

A fucking family comedy about a dad confronting the daughter's boyfriend and the other dad scolding him:

"What did you do to him?" "I didn't lay a hand on him!" "Dean, that isn't exactly true." "... Well, I didn't kill the guy." (17:14)

Surprisingly enough, this is not the first nor last time Dean acts like a dad to a lost child (AND TWO OF THESE TIMES THE KID IS SOMEHOW RELATED TO CAS) (21:54)

Episode 22:

C: "Claire, you are not going out there. [...] It's too dangerous. I can't let anything happen to you." D: "Claire, you're not going." C: "You're not either, Dean." D: "What?" (19:29)

#FAMILY DON'T TALK TO ME!

"No fighting. [...] Both of you." AAAAAA

This doesn't fucking matter, but Dean just said "... for the ladies. Or the fellas. I don't judge." (36:23)

Cas' speech to Dean... wow. "So if there's even a small chance that we can save you... I won't let you walk out of this room." (39:20)

I hate this scene. (40:11)

Dean is overwhelmed by Charlie's death, Sam and Cas' betrayal, the Mark changing him and all the other shit.

The Mark is taking over, and Dean can't (and won't) help it. Cas knows it. He doesn't want to hurt Dean. He is not even resisting. Doesn't put up a fight.

And just like Colette with Cain, Castiel only asks Dean one thing: "Stop." (40:38) [9x11]

Parallel to 8x07:

The only thing that stops Cas from killing Dean, is him begging, clutching onto his sleeve.

"Dean... please..." (41:08) Cas pleading Dean, clutching to his arm, makes him resist the urge to kill him.

Episode 23:

You can find gifs and the script of some deleted (destiel) scenes in this post by @charlie-minion

As the Mark eats Dean... he starts feeling guilt for the people he hurt... first on the list: Cas (14:54)

(This gif is not mine)

Well... what a season.

[Season 11>>]

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bisluthq · 4 years ago

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So idk I am feeling conflicted bc you know how there’s a sect of the lgbt community who are all like “go listen to real queer artists and stop trying to make Taylor seem one of us through your lyric analysis” like.

I mean I get what they’re saying and it’s not even like Taylor presents as a great ally lmao but like... I feel like that argument just forgets that 1) closeted people exist and 2) straight people can write songs that can be analyzed through a queer lens

Like I mean there is a severe lack of out mainstream artists and I get we should absolutely support the ones that are Bc it makes it easier for closeted people to come out the more mainstream it is... but like... idk. I do think some people take Taylor’s sexuality too far and to consider her a gay icon is just like not it right now... but like her music slaps and you don’t have to be straight to relate to it. There are so many of her songs that I listen to and think of my ex gf when I do so it’s like? Maybe Taylor didn’t write DBATC for a woman but I ascribe it to one when I listen to it and like that’s the point of music you know?

Idk I get why some lgbt people are annoyed by her but like... I just feel like no one considers that being closeted is a thing and I think some lgbt people fall into the same default that straight people do and just assume everyone is straight unless they have a huge coming out announcement. And like that’s not fair to anyone tbh.

Yeah look I mean I have MANY thoughts on this:

1) shit doesn't need to be canonically gay in order for it to be relatable. Same as how straight people can and SHOULD relate to queer storylines too because WE ARE ALL HUMAN. No one is ever going to write a banger of a breakup song like Adele. Do I think she has a fruity bone in her body? I mean like maybe she's kissed a girl at a party one time but like all her songs are for her about boys. But they're not necessarily about boys for me. And that doesn't make them worse or less relatable. I'm allowed to ugly cry and listen to Turning Tables and I don't have to picture a bloke when I do that.

2) that's true for minority/majority art in general. Minority groups generally find ways to identify to majority groups, but I LOVE it when majority groups identify to my minority identities. Like yaaaaas goy straight bitches please go stan Broad City. The girls are SO Jewish and... so bi... but like I WANT YOU TO LIKE IT and relate. And most people I've spoken to feel that way regardless of identity. Like, obvi the point is not to appropriate but like yes I'm going to bop and sing to Formation and I'll not say the hair line when I'm singing it in my car - y'all should lowkey know by now Lemonade is like one of my favorite albums because I reference it that much - there are lines I skip but the PREMISE of like being with your group of girls is completely relatable to me. Do I get the nuance she's communicating? Cerebrally but obvi not like to my core, but it's a dope song, and I can have fun singing it.

3) those are two important sidebars and bring us back to Taylor. IMO it's okay to like Taylor's music in a gay way in the same way we queer people like Adele's or even in the way goy straight girls like Broad City. Like it's okay if she didn't mean it that way and she didn't mean to speak to us but did via the human experience and that's like beautiful y'know and makes her a phenomenal artist.

4) it's also important to realize that yes Taylor could be closeted but besties she's not like... revolving her life around it. She has made a choice to live a hetty presenting life and - here's where we get to the kicker - she has fostered the bullying of queer fans who pick up on themes in her music and ship while having no issue with hetty weirdos. And that makes me HOPE she's queer in some way and not homophobic because if you are an ally and you're letting people speculate about EVERY boy you're in contact with but lose your shit when it looks like you kissed your female friend, ehhh that's on you. You're a bad ally and a bit homophobic.

5) which brings me to "why I hope she's queer": fundamentally because it'd make her less stupid and more likable, and it'd make her faux pas missteps more understandable because it was like ~personal and she struggled, and it'd make the signaling she's done (and don't start this I never include ship shit I always talk about sus statements and flag usage etc and it's in my nat talks gaylor tag) more understandable.

6) if she's straight eh people have just as much right to queer read her songs as we do with Adele and Lana. It doesn't matter.

Maybe Taylor Swift is straight. If so she has a LONG way to go in terms of allyship, and a long way to go compared to just about every pop star who has come before her. Like she's a problem dudes. She's a homophobe because she's allowed a fandom which allows folklore songs to be assigned to HARRY but freaks at Wonderland being assigned to Dianna Agron.

Maybe she's bi, and I wish society would allow for that but I don't think it does especially not in her case.

Either way I wish hetlors would get off truthering because it doesn't matter.

So someone thinks she's gay. Cool. Make like Elsa and let it go, why can't that be the case? Again, I am CONVINCED Blake, Scarlett, Emma W, and a host of other celebs are straight. I won't truther someone who's saying Emma and Bonnie shared rooms together because I'd be like "lol Bonnie has the range but Emma doesn't but fair enough" and leave it at that.

Being OBSESSED with this issue is weird.

And before some anon says - I'm not obsessed. Maybe she's straight, I think she could be bi, maybe she's a lesbian dealing with comphet. I'm not her and I don't know! But what I am veeeery convinced of is she ain't no gold star.

#nat talks gaylor #nat talks swiftdom

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hazelcephalopod · 3 years ago

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the following is mostly rant and mildly criticism, but ultimately Hannibal is a fine show. This is just how it makes me loose it. Also if you have contradictory opinions or head canon enjoy, these are mine. If you agree cool.

I have once again begun trying to watch Hannibal. Just starting on s1e4 where I left off and getting to e7. And once again have made the mistake of reading the creators statements.

Which, oops I’m autistic so when the show opens with a character saying I’m closer to autistic than sociopathic (not an actual sliding scale between those so first red flag right there, but ok next) I’m looking to see how the show displays that. And first off, Will. Loner dude, with many dogs and overly brusk demeanor. Obsessed with murder and fishing, and again dogs considering he has like 7. Very perceptive, possible sensory sensitivity -which as an adult may not be very apparent. Unusual trauma responses, appears to be recovering from burn out, sorta highly empathetic but no idea what to do with that -except teach crime solving and solve murders. Does not like change. Seeks to do the right thing (maybe arguable) by solving murders, to his own detriment. Being pushed too far by himself and others. Ok, yea sounds like a strong possible autism, in an adult man. Personally, the manipulation from others resonates with me for this reason too. As do his relationships and interactions with other people. His brusk and straightforward communication style, interpreted as callousness which may or may not be that. It’s a lot basically. I could continue far too long.

Like, this show has barely a basic understanding of psychiatry IMO. So the show runner and actor saying (summarized) “nope he is not autistic. That was a misdirect, it was an act”. Im very curious and concerned where the show is going to go from where it is now to get to that being… true? Like the statements seem so strong too, why? It’s ok for the fictional maybe evil bi possibly murderer/cannibal and/or lover of a cannibal to be autistic on your campy little horror show. Say maybe and let people interpret what you put into the text. Bare minimum imo.

B/c that does not make sense. I can not stress enough what I’m seeing. Will clearly has moments of hyper focus and deep social awkwardness. He just does not pay attention if he has something else, like a case before him, at all. Or his deep interest with murder (cases) and the Chesapeake Riper. And hyperempathy can be a trait of autism -or other neurodiversities. (I mean Wills thing is also very much superpowers but set that aside). He feels very disconnected from other people. Half his conversations he’s talking to someone, but it sounds like two different conversations. All the ablism, so much -which clearly is in part due to ignorance- that I’m like “yup allistics be like that” Again there’s more! And maybe it’s something else, sure ok different neurodiversity -including mental illness. Or it’s more likely several.

TL:dr there is a lot of evidence that Will is autistic and I find the response from people on the show rude and ignorant when asked about it. Like idk if that’s good or not on the cannibal murder show, but the handling of it is not good in the irl realms.

PS if you plan on watching this show in the now or future remember, everyone is an asshole. That may be the point.

#I doubt this is what anyone else it here for so Not main tagging #I take that tag back #hannibal #but this is the reason this show makes me go off #not the many others #ok fine everyone is an asshole #and half the source material is very silly and it is used #because this is camp #someone take this always from me #let the man be autistic it’s ok yes there are bad stereotypes but let autistic people be evil in fiction #and also good #and neutral #everyone on this show is a bit evil at least Will feels somewhat conflicted about it #that’s enough

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herstarburststories · 5 years ago

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Something About Pride

Summary: It's Pride Month! Dean tries to make sure you feel celebrated today, while Sammy has an inner dilemma about Castiel.

Pairings: Bi!Reader x Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester x Castiel

A/N: I had more alternative titles for that one (too in love to think straight and the gay angel), but this one fits a lot! A bit late, I know.

"Shouldn't you buy him a gift or something? It's like a full on gay Valentine's Day," Dean said in a husky voice, barely functioning in the light of morning as he prepared the daily coffee for him and Sam along with your cold lemon tea.

His little brother didn't bother giving him an articulate answer other than a mild glare at his back. (Y/N) simply rolled your eyes at your boyfriend's statement, a small grin on your lips. Dean could be simultaneously clueless, dumb and cute sometimes.

‘’I doubt Cass knows what pride month is, honestly.’’ You glance at Sam, resting your hand on his arm with a friendly smile. “But I think it would be cool if you somehow celebrated with him.’’

‘’Wait,’’ Dean interrupted the conversation, placing the coffee pot and your cup of tea on the table. ‘’Do you want to celebrate it?’’ he asked, suddenly worried about somehow being negligent on something important to you.

‘’Nah, I'm good. Being myself is all the celebration I need right now.’’ You grinned at him, withdrawing your hand arm to grab the cup full of chilled tea. It was adorable how caring Dean was. ‘’Besides, your gift this morning was good enough.’’

The wink you offered, followed by Dean's double-meaning smirk caused Sammy to huff lightly and purse his lips. ‘’Leave the weird kinks for the bedroom, guys. And more silently. I can hear.’’

His elder brother rolled his eyes and claimed the seat next to you. ‘’And I thought he would get some after he got with Cass.’’

‘’I think he would like it,” you continued after taking a sip of your tea. ‘’Maybe you could bring him to a parade?’’

‘’And explain him that pride month happens because people were killed and tortured for loving someone?’’ Sam replied, a hint of harshness in his voice. It was obvious he didn’t want to snap, but it could be a delicate situation when the brunette male thought about it. Castiel clearly knew that love has no boundaries regarding to gender — his angel nature and the fact that he had various vessels through the ages made him indifferent when it came to sex — but he probably wasn't aware that it hadn't been always like this on earth. Part of Sam didn't want to explain too much. For once, he wanted to make himself believe that not knowing could be a blessing.

You laid your eyes on him, a frown on your face. Dean was silent like he usually would be during conversations like this. Rather, he was pouring coffee for him and Sammy.

Sighing, the taller man tried to reason with himself. "I'm sorry, it's just — "

‘’It's okay. I get it,” you said, refusing further explanation. You remembered how nervous Sam was to tell Dean and how broken he was after realizing that John would never know part of what made him who he was. He was paralyzed, even, spine chilled with horror as he’d considered how his father could react. ‘’The accumulation of history, this heteronormative society. it’s buried deep inside everyone. It makes coming out necessary and scary, and even sometimes it backfires as if we were doing something wrong. Some people even tell us it’s something wrong, but that doesn’t make all that we have achieved any less important or beautiful.”

Dean's hand found your high under the table. It’s a soft squeeze and not in the teasing manner that you’re used to. His own little way of supporting you, of saying I'm here if you want to talk or drink about it. I have your back. He has been always supportive when it came to your bisexuality and his brother's sexuality. You pecked his cheek.

‘’I know, it is just…’’ Sam shrugged, his hazel eyes getting puffy. ‘’What Cas and I have — It's innocent. It's good. I don't want him to doubt it or something because of what a bunch of ignorant people think. Does that make sense?’’

‘’Cass has had the hots for you for years, dude. He didn't run away from us when he had to go against Chuck, go to the purgatory or when you offered him rabbit food. He won't leave anymore.’’

Although he coated his tongue with a humorous truth, it broke Dean's heart to hear the fragility in his little brother's voice. For as much as Castiel was his best friend, he was ready to punch the grace out of that angel if he hurt Sammy.

‘’He is right, Sam. Castiel wouldn't doubt your relationship for that. It's Pride Month. History isn't known for being pretty, but victorious. And we won.’’

‘’Sometimes I just wish we didn't have to fight,’’ Sammy said quietly, shrugging while he grabbed the cup of coffee to bring to his lips.

You gave him a solidary glare, an empathetic smile adding in your expression. You held his huge hand in yours, rubbing your thumb into Sam's palm.

‘’I know.’’ What was left to say? It was unfair as most things in centuries. It was revolting. But above all, it was changing. Love was finally being seen in every way. Things were slowly getting better. ‘’But we keep fighting, right? And we get something good.’’ You pulled away, drinking more of your lemon tea. Sam nodded, sniffling a bit while he recomposed himself. ‘’You could keep it simple if you explain, like…’’

‘’Tell him it is a full-month of exclusively gay Valentine,’’ Dean suggested, smiling genuinely at his idea and wiggling his eyebrows.

Sam sighed and you scrunched your nose, but had to agree with your boyfriend. That would be a good way to describe it to Castiel.

‘’You could bring him to a parade or give him one of those tiny rainbow flags, like Captain Holt’s. It's cute!’’

Dean grimaced. ‘’Don't be that chick flick, Sammy.’’

‘’How is that chick flick, Winchester?’’ You arched your eyebrow, almost challenging him to continue.

The long-haired brother just chuckled at you two, rising from the chair with his cup in hand. He needed to think about Castiel and the whole month's explanation deal.

‘’All right, I'll let you two argue alone.’’

Sammy could hear the words that grow more quietly as he stepped away from the kitchen.

‘’Are you sure you don't want to go to a parade or something?’’

It brings an amount of pride that he didn't think he would feel, just like the joy.

Sam Winchester wasn’t the kind of man to get nervous mincing words, especially near his family. That was why he almost felt ashamed when the faint tremble in his voice became noticeable enough for even him to detect when he spoke to his boyfriend.

‘’So, Cass, I wanted to talk to you about something.’’

The hunter wanted to scream stupid at himself for the tiny frown on Castiel's usual tranquil expression. When Sam said similar words to the angel, it was most likely to be a life or death situation, or a Dean becoming a demon situation, or a Chuck about to destroy the world situation.

And he certainly wasn't this anxious when he first brought it up to his brother and you.

‘’What is this about?’’

‘’Full-gay Valentine's Day, but it's a month.’’ Dean arched his eyebrows, pursed lips parting into a proud smile. You slapped his arm. Unbelievable. ‘’What? You agree!’’

You held his arm and dragged him out of the room. Sam needed privacy. As you and his brother walked away between whispers, he let out a breath that he didn't even notice the holding.

For a split of second, Sammy almost followed you two to bring Dean and his stupid jokes back to the subject.

The hunter coughed, but his angel lover just remained standing there; calm blue eyes waiting for his next speech, head subtly titled to the side because of his curiosity.

‘’Uh, Pride Month.’’

For his surprise, Castiel answered with a nod, ‘’The month of love, I believe? It is very colorful to see.’’

‘’You know what it is?’’ Sammy frowned in confusion, approaching his boyfriend with a soft smile. It was a weird relief. He wouldn't dare to tell Cass how some humans saw their relationship. Not that they mattered, anyway. But it'd haunt him how his lover could react. After all, Castiel was still considerably new to the human world as a dweller.

‘’Yes, I do. A month to celebrate romantic relationships,” the blue-eyed man said. Once he saw the look on Sam’s face, he quickly added, ‘’I saw it on the television.’’

‘’Yeah, it's, huh, kinda like that. But not fully.’’ He gave him a tight smile. Sammy was close enough to hold his hand, and so he did. God, it was possible to feel his body relax just with that mere touch. If Samuel didn't know any better, he'd theorize that he could sense Castiel's grace. But no, it must've been love in its purest form. ‘’It's important for relationships too, but it is mostly about self pride. Like accepting and praising part of who you are.’’

Cass intertwined their fingers, enjoying the way Sam's soul shone brighter to his closeness. It was such a majestic view.

‘’I was thinking, maybe we could go to one of them. Or just have a date. It's kind of our special month on earth. Well, the backstory isn't that nice, but — ’’

‘’Many things in humanity aren't, Sam. You are not a harmonic kind. Like bees,’’ Castiel said, butting into his human's babbling as he noticed how agitated his aura became. As if he was scared for some reason. Sam gulped, the prior anxious feeling crawling back in a bigger form. ‘’Although, it is an honorable celebration for a great cause. I would like to enjoy this with you.”

Sammy's mouth was open in a perfect shape of an O. Features echoing his mixed feelings of intrigue and shock, he had to make sure of what he heard by asking: ‘’You would?’’

‘’Yes, Sa — Honey.’’ The graceful being was still learning the perks of being in a romantic relationship. Pet names were a new thing to him, but honey was his favorite. Mostly because of its association with his favorite insect. ‘’We could go for one of the group walks on the street? The sensation to be there seems — ’’

“Freeing?’’ He smiled, pulling Castiel closer to his taller figure with a free hand. Not a worry in earth, hell and heaven catching his mind now.

Castiel curved his lips into a smile. It was tiny, but it was there, just like the hold on his waist. Would every move of his angel make him experience this peaceful embrace? He believed so. Perhaps that was the happiness that he found in the chaos of his life. That his brother found. And it was good. God, it was amazing. Heaven in one angel, just for him.

‘’Exactly, like pride.’’ Sam's words come only to be soon replaced by his lips pressing against Castiel's in a kiss.

He felt so proud to love him. No one could take it away.

And they wouldn't.

Masterlist

Dean's Sweetheart: @akshi8278

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Thirty Six

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

June 23rd, 1998

“Hey, kid!” a protester yelled rather loudly as Emile was walking by.

Emile paused and turned to the guy. “Can I help you, sir?” he asked.

“You’re too young to be throwing away your life like this! You’re condemning yourself and you can’t be more than what, eighteen?”

“I’m seventeen, and Catholic, and pretty sure I’m going to Heaven no matter what you say,” Emile said.

The man sneered and Emile felt his stomach sink. There were others joining the man, all seeming ready to argue with him. Someone grabbed his arm and he looked over. Faith was guiding him away by the elbow. “C’mon, Emile, those types don’t even deserve the time of day.”

Emile turned to look back at the man, who was glaring at him until some other poor person walked up and he resumed his shouting at them. He winced. “Are there always people like that?” he asked.

“Not by the entrance, usually,” Faith said. “But yeah. One day, though, they’ll be the minority of the situation.”

June 1st, 2001

Emile was doing the dishes in their apartment with a small smile on his face. Ever since they had gotten back from Emile’s parents, Remy had been acting a lot more animated: getting excited about cooking, going off on tangents about how nice Emile’s parents were, them introducing him to badminton properly, Emile’s mom’s garden and how she grew a few ingredients to use in recipes (and asking if they could translate that to the apartment because then we wouldn’t have to pay for groceries as much, Emile! which Emile was still skeptical about).

It was a Friday, but Emile was officially out of school for the summer, which was very exciting. He could spend more time with Remy because working part time meant they both had a couple times a week where they would have nowhere in particular to be. He paused in washing. It was Friday, but it was also the start of June. Pride month. Emile had been to a pride parade or two, but he doubted that Remy had. And if they were careful, they could go out to one to celebrate!

He grinned. Oh, he’d have to go to the library and get on one of the computers to see if he could find a good pride parade nearby. He definitely wanted to introduce Remy to the joy that was pride parades!

As the last of the dishes in their apartment were drying, Remy walked in with his signature “work was awful” sigh. Emile strode over and gave Remy a light hug. “Hello, my love,” he said. “Would you be willing to go with me to the public library today?”

“I mean, I guess,” Remy sighed. “I’m really tired, though. Would it take long?”

“That depends,” Emile said with a shrug. “I’m not sure how easily I could get access to whichever site the pride parade information might be on.”

“Pride...parade?” Remy asked.

“Yeah, I wanted to take you to one. I figured you’d never gone before, and it’s super fun, and you get to be yourself with no judgement,” Emile said.

Remy’s blank expression had Emile confused. “Emile...what’s a pride parade?” Remy asked.

Emile blinked. “Have you really never heard of a pride parade before?” he asked. “I assumed you would have never gone, but you never even heard of it?”

Remy just continued to stare blankly at Emile.

Emile took a deep breath. “Okay, okay. The short version: a pride parade is where people who are gay or bi or trans or lesbian or whatever can go and celebrate who they are without worrying about what other people will think. If we went to one in a nearby city but not here, it’s unlikely anyone you don’t want to know you’re gay would be there. And they’re super fun! They have all sorts of pretty pride flags, and sometimes they have free buttons or stickers, and you can of course buy some stuff, too, from certain vendors, once the literal parade is over but the celebration is still going on. It’s really cool and I’d love to take you.”

“Emile,” Remy held up a hand. “Information overload.”

Emile pressed his lips together but he was practically vibrating in anticipation. He really wanted Remy to come with him. Remy did that blinking thing he sometimes did as he processed information, then looked at Emile. “And no one would fire us over going to this parade?”

“If we’re careful, no one will know we went to it, and no one who’s part of the parade would ever fire you for being gay,” Emile said with certainty.

“And...there’s like, no drinking or anything involved?”

“Not if you don’t have an ID,” Emile said. “Some vendors won’t sell to you at all until you’re twenty one.”

Remy hummed in thought.

“Would you...want to drink at pride? Rem? If you were able to?” Emile asked.

“I...don’t know. Alcohol is...clearly a depressant for me, and I don’t really want to be depressed at something you find fun,” Remy said with a shrug. “Honestly drinking is...kinda boring. Like, if I had some sort of food to go with it? Maybe. That could complement the food and make the meal taste even better. But drinking on its own is...eh. Not interesting. I’d only do it if I didn’t want to remember the night I drank.”

Emile relaxed at that. He knew that a drunk Remy had plenty of issues both with memories and in whatever situation the two of them found themselves in. If Remy decided he’d rather not drink, that was one less thing that Emile would have to worry about.

Remy frowned. “You’re relieved. Why are you relieved?”

Emile forgot that Remy could read him like an open book at the most inopportune times. “It doesn’t matter, Remy. Let’s just go to the library.”

“It matters to me,” Remy said stubbornly. “Why are you relieved?”

“Remy...” Emile sighed. “This is a conversation that is doomed to be really long and I really want to get to the library before it closes.”

Remy stood his ground, searching Emile’s eyes. Emile resisted the urge to squirm. “Why are you relieved?” Remy pressed.

“I’m relieved because you don’t want to drink,” Emile said.

Remy blinked. “Do you think I’m irresponsible around alcohol?” he asked, jutting his chin out in challenge.

“I think that considering both your past with your family and your identity you’re extremely likely to develop a drinking problem in order to self-medicate. That’s not healthy. Hearing that you don’t want to drink just because is a relief. Sure, hearing that you’d use it to forget a stressful night isn’t great, but you’re not going to become addicted to alcohol because of one bad bender,” Emile said.

“I’m perfectly healthy, Emile. Sure, my life wasn’t the easiest, but I wouldn’t resort to alcoholism.”

Emile ran a hand down his face. “This is why I didn’t want to get into this,” he muttered. He kissed the crown of Remy’s head. “I know you’re smart, honey. I know you know that alcohol isn’t an answer. But that doesn’t mean it can’t look tempting after a particularly bad day.”

Remy crossed his arms and Emile knew that Remy’s stubbornness was in full swing. “You’re dangerously close to controlling territory, Emile,” he growled.

“Controlling would be guilt-tripping you into not drinking. I’m just pointing out what I think about your statements. Not trying to guilt-trip anybody,” Emile placated.

Remy continued to snarl and Emile sighed. “Rem, I’m not your...I’m not your babysitter, I can’t tell you what you can and can’t do. I’m just trying to express my thoughts. It clearly came across wrong. For that, I apologize. But I would never intentionally want to guilt-trip you.”

“You were about to say you’re not my parents,” Remy growled.

“A habit I’m trying to kick,” Emile replied smoothly.

Remy ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t like it when you say that, Emile,” he warned.

“Which is why I’m trying to kick the habit. It won’t leave overnight,” Emile said.

“It should never have taken root in the first place,” Remy accused.

“You know what? You’re right,” Emile said. “It doesn’t do anything other than upset you and try to boost my ego. I shouldn’t have started saying it. But I did. So now the only thing I can do is try and stop it.”

Remy crossed his arms, scrutinizing Emile. Eventually, he sighed. “So, the library?”

“Yeah,” Emile agreed. “I can drive us over, or we could walk. It is a pretty nice day.”

“It’s a little hot to me,” Remy said.

Emile rolled his eyes. “Well, duh, you’re always wearing that leather jacket when you go out. You’re gonna overheat in that thing.”

“It’s a price I’m willing to pay for the aesthetic,” Remy said, face expressionless.

Emile sighed and walked out the door as Remy grinned and followed him. “You worry me, Rem. Like, a lot.”

“Aw, come on, the aesthetic is amazing! It makes me look cool,” Remy said.

“I would argue it makes you look hot, and not in the attractive sense,” Emile argued, even as he kissed Remy’s cheek. “Either learn to drink more water during the summer, or lose the jacket.”

“How much water would I have to drink, exactly?” Remy asked.

“At least eight cups,” Emile said.

Remy tilted his head back and groaned. “That’s so many,” he complained.

“The price to pay for the aesthetic,” Emile teased.

Remy scowled before grabbing Emile’s shoulders and leaping on top of him. Emile squawked and nearly fell over right outside the apartment complex, where two of their more...conservative neighbors were currently walking in. Emile waved to them. “Hey, Grace, Roy! How are you?”

They didn’t reply to him, not that Emile minded. He was a little busy trying to get Remy off him. Remy was laughing maniacally as he had his legs wrapped around Emile’s torso. “Remy, Remy! Re—oof! Remy! Don’t kick there!” Emile protested.

“I wouldn’t have to kick you if you didn’t squirm so much!” Remy argued.

“I am not a jungle gym! Off! Now!” Emile shot back.

Remy sighed and put his legs down. “I didn’t hurt your back, did I?” Remy asked.

“My back? No. My kidneys? Give me three to five business days,” Emile drily replied.

Remy winced. “Sorry.”

Emile waved off his apology. “Let’s just get to the library, okay?”

They got in Emile’s car and drove over, Emile immediately heading to the queue for the computers. When he put his library card on the list, he waited for a computer to open while Remy went to look at books. As soon as he was allowed to get on a computer, he did, waving Remy over. They went online and Emile searched for local pride parades. “There’s this one we could go to, it’s two towns over,” Emile said softly.

“Two towns over still seems kinda close,” Remy murmured.

“Well, there might be protesters around but I don’t know any people out here who would go out of their way to drive over there to wave around a sign about going to Hell,” Emile said. “And we don’t want to go too far away. It would be a one-day thing, it’s not like we have the money to rent a room at a hotel.”

“Okay, that’s a valid point,” Remy muttered. “Do we have to make reservations or anything? RSVP?”

“Nope, all we have to do is show up and not bring anything they don’t allow,” Emile said, grinning. “You’re gonna have a great time, Remy, I already know it.”

Remy shifted where he stood. “I guess I have to take your word on that, because I don’t have a reference point,” he said. “But I’m still not sure.”

Emile sighed and clicked around the site, making note of what the parade did and didn’t allow. “If you don’t want to go I understand,” Emile said. “But it would be way more fun with you, and I promise it’s safe.”

Remy chewed his lip. “I really want to believe you, Emile. It’s just...it’s hard. Not because of you, necessarily. It’s just hard in general.”

“Yeah,” Emile agreed. “I was super nervous my first Pride. A few protesters got close to me, tried to shout me out of going in. But my friends kept me moving, away from them, and I had the time of my life, getting to be myself, loud and out and proud of it for just a couple hours. And I couldn’t wait to go back to it the next year.”

“And you didn’t...?” Remy paused. “You don’t worry that the protesters are right?” He was hugging himself as he softly asked, “You know you won’t go to Hell for it?”

“Honey...” Emile chewed his lip, before standing and hugging Remy tightly. “They’re wrong, they’ve always been wrong and always will be wrong. It doesn’t matter who the protesters are, either. Catholic, Protestant, Muslim, Jewish, or just plain old homophobes without much inclination towards any religion. They aren’t in the right. You won’t go to Hell for loving me or any other man. Okay?”

“Okay,” Remy said softly.

“Okay,” Emile repeated. “Now, are you going to come with me to Pride?”

Remy smiled softly and nodded. “I’ll give it a shot.”

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

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gofancyninjaworld · 5 years ago

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Meta: What rough beast slouches to be born?

Right, webcomic chapter 125 has raised quite a few questions about cyborgs and I purposely left it aside. Until now. I’m sorry for the length, but I’m only allowed one ‘readmore’. :(

What we knew

Many moons ago for us, 9 or so weeks ago for them, Genos showed up at Saitama’s doorstep like a refugee from another world, telling a tale of destroyed towns, rampaging cyborgs, and desperate revenge quests. It’s seemed rather far-fetched, particularly as not much has happened on that front. Over the course of the story, we’ve had little bits of independent corroboration about the veracity of his story. The town that he was born in was definitely erased from the map. Yes, a cyborg is wanted in connection with the incident.

But where is that guy? Does it have anything to do with the powered suit-flogging cyborgs seen early on the series? Does it have anything to do with the ‘glimpse behind the scenes’ chapter the manga offered us with Drive Knight (but no context as to how that glimpse fitted into the wider story)? Come to that, where are all the cyborgs?

To start with, there are a lot of cyborgs of various sorts in OPM. Quite a few moons ago, I wrote a bit about them, drawing a distinction between those who used parts to replace lost function and those who looked at it as a change of identity: “Is the Organization a Claw Analogue?”

Chapter 125 has been surprisingly good about confirming some of what I surmised about cyborgs, but it’s brought some very good additional information! On we go!

There are cyborgs; and then there are Cyborgs

Our ambassador through the world of cyborgs is new Neo Hero recruit Koko (Solitude), who modified his body for the world of cyborg fighting, only he was a little too successful and no one would bet on him. We see him scanning various people and passing commentary on them.

The first to give him serious pause is Webigaza, who lost six months of life to getting her body modifications done -- no wonder she’s pissed off that her rival has self-destructed in the interim.

Koko is shaken by her having 71% of her body modified.

obsessive determination is terrifying to look at

Percentage body modification of the sort Koko is used to seeing, 30% maximum, you can do right here right here and now. It’s equivalent to losing a leg and most of the other. Here and now, we can also do brain implants to control tremors or fits or some neurological conditions, replace part of the heart, spine fusions, quite a few bits and pieces. The sort of modifications Koko is used to seeing are very functional ones that make sense for someone looking to get an edge in fighting for money. They’re also along the lines of what we’ve seen with One-Shotter or Death Gatling.

If you lose and replace all four limbs, that's 50% of your body modified. While quadruple amputees unfortunately exist IRL, I don’t know if anyone has had the kind of money, physical fitness and pure grit to do that. Nevertheless it’s not technically impossible. 60% sounds about right before you're now looking at breaking into the more vital parts of your body. The point at which the risk involved just can't be justified in terms of restoring function or health. I’m emphasising that because I’m going to come back to this point. He’s shaken because modifications that extensive aren’t about simply gaining an edge; they’re being willing to exchange serious bodily harm for serious power. It says a lot about who Webigaza is.

Within the Hero Association, I think we do know a hero round about that 60% mark. Jet Nice Guy comes to mind. He sports an armored exterior, powerful artificial limbs (which will need internal reinforcement to not just rip up his body), but his innards are all human. After the way he started to bleed out after Nyan slashed him, I realised that the reason it looked like intestines when the Deep Sea King ripped him open is because they were... >.< Sorry, dude.

the worst of both worlds -- too modified to have an easy life, still too weak to deal with the real monsters that exist

Scary enough, but then the security staff come in to stop the kerfuffle that Koko and his buddy, Mars Leo, were causing. Koko scanned them and was stunned into horror:

as disciplined and ruthless a pair of killers as you could never hope to lay eyes on. Definitely not frothing at the mouth, these two!

These two have modified themselves so extensively they’re almost inhuman. 94, 95% body modification is equivalent to having only 3.5 - 4.2 kg of live mass left assuming an original live mass of 70 kg. And, if the similar naming convention didn’t tip you off to it, it’s around the sort of hyper-extensive modification we see Genos having. [See under the readmore for a first-principles estimation I did a long time ago.] Maybe Drive Knight too if he’s a cyborg. What kind of power have they exchanged their human bodies for? What kind of people are willing to do that to themselves? Koko is very sure that he does NOT want to know.

When he tells you who he is, believe him

That’s dating advice often given to ladies overlooking obvious red flags but it goes with great force in OPM. ONE has characters tell us who they are early on, even if it doesn’t mean anything to us for a long time.

And he’s had Genos be a particularly straightforward and truthful character. He doesn’t always interpret things correctly, but he says it exactly as he sees it. Looking at the way the high percentage cyborgs we’ve met thus far either be very inhuman looking or completely disguised as regular human beings, he’s chosen an appearance that puts both his humanity and mechanical nature on display.

Something that the chapter has brought up that I've kept saying to people on the Discord and on Reddit: there is no medically justifiable reason for Genos to have a body as modified as he does. Which Genos TELLS US for fuck’s sake. His giant wall of text is a synopsis, no more and no less.

When he says that “...I asked Professor Kuseno to perform a procedure to modify my body. Then I was reborn as a cyborg for justice...” (Viz) “...I begged Dr Stench (sic) to transform me into a cyborg and I was reborn as a cyborg who fights for justice...” (Boon scanslations, who copied verbatim whoever did the webcomic version). It’s nothing to do with health. Feel free to have whatever headcanons you like, but please don’t confuse them with the story.

But it doesn’t end there. I look at Destro and Erimin and realise that there’s another perfectly truthful statement that’s been staring us in the face.

Genos knows. Why would he ask a mechanical engineer who uses a wearable battle suit and pilots armed drones to modify his body, let alone modify it to such an insane degree? Because he knows that Dr Kuseno knows how to build cyborgs like the one who destroyed his town.

We don’t know if Destro and Erimin have any responsibility for the destroyed town, but someone of their ilk does. Which brings us to a third nakedly truthful statement. When Genos talks of not believing that he could be defeated by anything other than the rampaging cyborg, he’s not anticipating winning because he’s suicidal. It’s because he’s aware that if he’s throwing rock, so too is his enemy: mutual annihilation is the best he can hope for.

At least until he met Saitama. And started to hope for not mutual destruction, but victory (check the difference in chapter 108 of the webcomic).

a world away from the attitude of mutually-assured destruction he started with.

Stepping away from the text a bit, it casts a different light on why he’s been so desperate to learn from Saitama. Learning Saitama's secret is his balance-breaker. He wants something other than rock, that is guaranteed to smash whatever rock his enemy might throw. But that’s not all there is. As Garou said, once he discovered Blue Fire’s flamethrower, once you know how a freakish weapon works, you know it. Any edge a new weapon might give Genos is liable to be studied and replicated (see how quickly Dr Kuseno was able to reverse engineer and adapt the principles of G-4′s curving energy beams). But Saitama’s strength is unphysical: no matter how closely you inspect his body, you can never relate the physicality of Saitama’s body to the power he can generate. That unphysicality, that’s what Genos wants too. It also puts in context why he’s been so fascinated by psychic power and wants to learn it if at all possible.

neat trick, I’ll take two! Genos dodging G4′s beams in chapter 38, and putting the principle of them to good use in chapter 120

And finally, since in his world, knowledge is literally power, it gives yet another layered reason Genos is so determined to keep anyone else from becoming Saitama’s disciple. If they learn his secret too, then the advantage he seeks will be lost. (that it doesn’t work quite that way for Saitama is a fact for us to enjoy and for him to find out).

Nothing is as scary as a human being

Nothing is as scary as a human being is one of the things that Reigen says to Tome on occasion. It’s in full force in OPM. Monsters may be strong, but they all live in the now. Only a human being could have put together the Monster Association. When it comes to cyborgs, their abilities may be inhuman but their thoughts, imaginations, morals and appetites are all 100% human. It’s a terrifying combination.

There’s something I missed when I likened The Organization to a Claw Analogue. In Mob Psycho 100, the protagonists are children and they're fighting an organisation made up of over-grown children -- adults who have refused to grow up. In One-Punch Man, the protagonists are adults and the bad humans in the story are very much adults too. With calculated cruelty and depravity to match. When The Organization bares its claws for real, this is going to get so brutal.

If Genos has not been standing still, then neither has his enemy. From the manga, even if we hold Drive Knight blameless and independent of all this mess, his besting Nyan told us that cyborgs can indeed come crazy-strong and highlighted how much more work Genos had yet to do. It also highlighted how very clever and calculating cyborgs can be -- well, they’re human, duh! If I was worried for his prospects then, in the webcomic, Genos is nowhere near as psychologically, physically or emotionally ready as his manga version is. And the guys who look to be his enemies aren’t going to be cutting him any slack. They’re very real. They’re not mad. And they’re closer than he ever imagined.

Fighting monsters is barely adequate preparation for whatever it is that’s to come.

Whenever Genos gets dragged into whatever it is those cyborgs are up to -- or runs into it, since he claims he’s still hunting the rampaging cyborg -- ‘rough’ doesn’t begin to describe it.

Extra Stuff

Edited from an answer I gave on Reddit to the question of how much of Genos was still organic about 2 years ago. It’s unexpectedly relevant!

Short answer: by mass, under 10% , assuming he would have weighed approximately 70 kg. By function, quite a bit.

The long answer.

I’m going to write this starting from what is most readily observable and readily inferred to the least. In appreciation of this being a work of fiction that treats physical laws lightly, I too am taking a more-or-less approach and will keep technical terms to a minimum. I'm also not a medic and I don't play one on TV -- assume generous hand-wavium. Items in {curly brackets} are incidental notes you can skip.

Level 0: Canonically observable. The least controversial observation is that Genos does have an organic brain. Genos does not live in a lab, but is able to live largely independently, including being able to eat whatever he likes with no ill-effect. Not just that, but he lives an active and hard-fighting life that appears to do him no permanent harm (I will return to this in a few paragraphs). What can we take from this?

Edit: There is also ONE’s initial settings for Genos, which I quote here from the Hero Data Book

ONE: There's no need to visit Dr. Kuseno's place every time when his wrist break down, because he got his own spare parts at hand. Dr Kuseno's Lab is there In case for a big reparation job, a drastic upgrade or an examination.

It’s tempting to think that because we see that he definitely has a brain that’s all there is – the brain in a jar phenomenon, so to speak. Something a lot of people miss is that the spinal cord proper isn’t optional either -- it’s a core part of the central nervous system. Spinal cords are a lot shorter than most people think they are, averaging 12 inches long for women and 15 inches for men. The rest are nerve processes that can be cut and will regrow (within limits). We’re also happy to allow for nerves and their endings -- there must be an interface for the prosthetics so they're under the fine voluntary control that we see. However, that’s not all that there can be. The Cartesian mind-body duality is completely wrong when it comes to physiology. Our brains are intimately bound with our bodies and our bodies with our brains. So what does one need?

Level 1: Perfusion. This is the most obvious one. Without a blood supply providing oxygen, glucose and removing waste products from our brains, we have 4-5 seconds of consciousness available, 2-3 minutes in which we can escape brain damage and 8-10 minutes in which not to die. So, number one is a reliable blood supply. Absolutely necessary therefore are a means of generating the various blood cells, perfusing and distributing them and disposing of damaged cells (red blood cells have a lifespan of 1-2 months). While not as acutely important, a self-sustaining blood supply is also the basis of a functioning immune system. It's a bit of an oops moment when your super-killer cyborg catches a cold and dies.

Accordingly, bone marrow is essential as a source of hematopoietic (blood-forming) stem cells. A suitably reduced blood vessel and lymphatic vessel system is also needed to run the blood where it needs to go. {An awesome feature of living beings is that new blood vessels will be recruited to where they need to go and redundant branches pruned back, a process known as vascular remodelling}. A reduced liver and possibly spleen will be needed to appropriately destroy worn out blood cells. At least one functional kidney, in the role of producing the hormone erythropoietin, without which red blood cells will not be formed. Not essential: a heart and lungs, which he definitely doesn't have. How much blood is needed? I’ll come to that answer once we’ve tallied how much body is needed.

Additionally, since part of perfusion is getting rid of metabolic waste, a liver and kidney will be absolutely indispensable.

Level 2: Homoeostasis. A living organism has a very narrow range in which its internal environment, such as oxygen saturation, temperature, pH (acidity or alkalinity) amongst other things can vary without harm.

There are around 40 or so hormones, the signalling molecules that keep us going as functional concerns, regulating such things as blood pressure, salt/water balance, available energy, sleep cycle, body temperature, mood, immune system... the list goes on. Each has a stupid number of secondary functions and interacts with others in a ludicrous number of ways (note highly scientific language). Their levels vary and change on the order of seconds to hours. It's a good job that the main organiser of homoeostasis, the hypothalamus, is part of the brain. {Incidentally, this is why a brain-dead cadaver cannot be kept ‘alive’ on life support indefinitely – everything falls out of sync and eventually to pieces.} To do this artificially is to have your cyborg never leave the lab: if you're not constantly monitoring and adjusting levels, then they will die. Fortunately, as mentioned, a living, functional brain has the control network needed to keep everything working without the extensive and expensive effort. Just add air, water and food (in that priority).

At this point, we've already met most of the organs needed to maintain homoeostasis in their capacity of maintaining a blood supply. We need to add some bone, not just to serve as a niche (living environment) for the bone marrow and its stem cells mentioned previously but as a source and sink for minerals, the adrenal glands and the thyroid gland. Finally, one must not forget pancreatic islets -- or it'll be for nothing as he goes into a diabetic coma.

Level 3: Energy. Speaking of food, a brain needs essential fatty acids for turnover and lots and lots of glucose for energy. It’s entirely possible to supply nutrients as total parenteral nutrion (TPN for short). People whose digestive systems have completely failed get individually formulated TPN solutions, which requires that they spend several hours a day feeding it into their blood supply. Not something we see Genos do. And yes, you heard it here: not everyone poops, but everyone sure as hell pees. While a brain only weighs about 1.5 kg, it uses up about 500 calories a day as glucose, so 700 ish calories a day should suffice for all the needs of his live mass. This bears no relationship to the amount of food we see Genos put away on occasion. Why hasn’t he wrecked his liver in a matter of weeks? The answer would appear to lie in the artificial digestive system Dr. Kuseno has given him which turns food into biofuel. It must be patched into a feedback loop which allows it to only supply what’s physiologically necessary at any given time. Lucky for some!

Level 4: So how much body does that add up to exactly? Nothing says you have to keep the necessary organs and blood vessel network the same size. With only a 1.5 kg brain to support, many can be shrunk a good 50% if not more. A total living mass of 7 kg would be quite feasible. We know from organ-on-a-chip experiments (and from unfortunate people who have lost part of their organs) that provided the essential architecture of the tissue is respected, they will work fine. Nothing says you have to keep them in the same place as the original organs were -- you can encapsulate it all in a can and shorten the nerves serving the organs to a more rational, manageable length. It's nice and compact and can be protected as heavily as the brain is.

Now we’re in a position to answer how much blood Genos has. There are about 70 ml of blood per kilogram of body weight, so at ~ 7 kg, we’re talking about 500 ml of blood. For comparison, the typical 70 kg person has 5 litres of blood. Why does this matter? Because it allows us to answer a question many may be curious about: how often does Genos get hurt?

The answer is: Almost Never. With so little body, and with most of that body consisting of aptly named vital organs, even small injuries can turn catastrophic in no time. Genos will bleed out with around 150 ml of blood loss, which is less than half of what is donated in a typical blood donation. Horrible and dramatic as the smashes he gets into are, it’s more akin to a Formula 1 race car tumbling end over end and catching fire, only for the driver to walk out unscathed. His cyborg parts are replaceable and can be sacrificed to protect what’s irreplaceable if need be.

#OPM #cyborg #Genos #meta #ONE hides things in plain sight #because they don't make sense until they do

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wangxiangiftexchange · 4 years ago

Text

Winter Solstice Gift for koikoipond

For @koikoipond <3

Read on AO3

*****

Call it Crazy, Call it Meant to Be

The morning of the second day Wei Ying met his soulmate, he rolled out of bed and made it halfway to the bus stop before realizing he’d pulled on his bunny slippers, a gag gift from Jiejie, and left his slip-ons haphazardly discarded by the couch. He’d still made it to the bus in time, though just barely, and had to call in Mianmian to take over the newbie’s shift. All in all a normal start to any day he had to open up the coffee shop.

In short, the universe had not prepared his poor heart for the man who strode into Latte Mugs Cafe at five after six, riding the crest of the crisp December air like some sort of angel in a white wool sweater. The door’s bell rang far too muted than was usual.

Wei Ying stared for what his racing heart later deemed a good five minutes before his gaze, somewhat distorted by the glass of the display he was arranging, rose to meet the man’s golden eyes. Oh, crap.

He shot to his feet, waved nonsensically at the man, shouted some rendition of “We’ll be right with you!”, and bolted through the door to the back room, whisper-yelling for Mianmian.

As soon as the door swung shut behind him, Wei Ying put a hand on his wildly thumping heart and paused to calm his breathing. Why is he here? When Mianmian emerged from the storage shelves (only one unit of which was used to stock non-perishables; the rest were filled to the brim with what the employees could only assume were the owner’s personal items, or else the remains of some poor, traditional tea shop, based on the sheer number of handmade tea sets), he ran up to her, putting on his best pout and swinging an arm around her shoulders. She glared at him and he carefully removed it and took a step back. Right. No touching.

“Mianmian!” he panted, eyes swimming with both remembered beauty and mortification equally, “The man- the bell- his eyes- and he just came in!” His voice was rising dangerously, and Mianmian thankfully stopped him before the taco place next door banged on the wall again, or worse, Lan Zhan, heard him.

“Wei Ying. Bi Disaster. Whichever you prefer,” her flat voice cut through his panic and grounded him, like a mother forcing her child into a life jacket against his will. Mianmian was great. “First off, my name is Grandmaster Luo, as per our agreement if I won the bet. Which I did.”

An exclamation of protest came from Wei Ying. It was ignored which was completely unfair because the bet had been who could last the longest without getting drunk, and sure, technically, Wei Ying got drunk first, but Mianmian had just been sipping the same cocktail the whole night!

“Second, who are you talking about and why does it involve me?” Mianmian had closed last night, too. Usually, she was much more pleasant than Wei Ying was in the morning, but today he’d taken one look at her and offered to work the counter. He’d rather not have to file a witness statement for a murder he’d seen committed at six in the morning, thank you very much. His memory was bad on a good day. He contemplated for a moment if Lan Zhan would be able to handle her and vice versa, but he hadn’t seen so much as a wince from him when the man was literally blackout drunk, so Wei Ying was willing to chance it. Who could get mad at such a perfect face anyway?

“Luo-jie,” he whined, “it’s Lan Zhan.”

“What, another ex?” She looked unimpressed.

“No! I haven’t dated anyone since the guitarist, you know that!” The guitarist—Wei Ying had blocked his name, which he remembered to be just as sexy as the rest of him, out of his mind—had been a mistake to begin with; a summer hope that turned out to be all riffs and no harmony.

She just looked confused, now. Well, guess she wasn’t lying when she’d said she tunes him out.

“No, no! Luo-jie, this is Lan Zhan . From the bar. Last week?” He winced at the memory.

“Oh. Your soulmate,” she said, as if this was common knowledge to the man waiting outside.

“Shh! Not so loud, what if he hears?”

The look she gave him this time was beyond tired, the sort of look his old government teacher used to give him when he derailed the discussion for the third time. Fond memories.

She appears to give up on the conversation entirely, brushing past him and moving toward the door. “Wei Ying, we’re talking about this. Later.” She pauses, and before he can embarrass her for caring about him, she says, “I saw him. A man that beautiful doesn’t deserve to be stuck with a soulmark he can’t remember. Even if it is to you.” Ah, there was that smirk he knew and loved!

Mianmian informed him when Lan Zhan left only a few minutes later. Apparently, he had asked for a lemongrass tea and nothing else. He hadn’t said a word about Wei Ying, or even The Insane Barista. Wei Ying was not upset by this, truly. All it meant was that the call he’d received the morning after their...escapades...had been honestly meant. His mind drifted back to Saturday morning as he mindlessly retook his position at the counter and finished his shift.

Wei Ying bolted up, his cheap twin bed creaking in protest as his phone blared the opening bars of Britney Spears’ Toxic—his ringtone—far too loudly. (If he let it keep ringing, it was just the first, really annoying bars, repeated over and over. He was unbearably smug about it.)

He reached over, trying to ignore his pounding head, and nearly dropped the phone before managing to accept the call. He mumbled out, “Hi this is-” before a deep, slightly groggy voice cuts him off.

“I have called to apologize for last night.” Apologize? Wait, was this- “I do not know what I said or did after drinking the alcohol-” Lan Zhan? “-but my brother informs me that you brought me home.” It must be. Though, technically, Jiang Cheng did the actual driving. He, after all, had not been drunk.

“Well, actually-” he was cut off again. Funny, Wei Ying thought sardonically, he remembered Lan Zhan being more polite than this. Even when they’d vandalized the dumpster together, he’d insisted they leave room for future law breakers.

“I am grateful for that.” There was a pause, evidently for Lan Zhan to gather his thoughts. Wei Ying decided not to test his luck and gather his own as well. His brain typically didn’t wake up till at least nine on the weekends, but here he was—he checked his phone—at seven AM on a Saturday trying to have a conversation with a guy that refused to listen to a thing he said.

He didn’t remember much about last night, but that was normal for him. If past experiences were to be learned from, most of it would come to him later in flashes and pitfalls of regret. Still, he’d thought… He freed his left hand from where it was tangled in the sheets and—just sat there and blinked at it. Yeah, that was a fully-colored soulmark, to be sure. Which was—something he’d never had before.

Just yesterday, the twisting lines that covered his left palm and creeped though his knuckles were black and lifeless. Now, his hand looked like some sort of moving painting. The dull, monotone patterns had shifted, forming blue and white elegant clouds and delicate red lotus petals that swirled around each other as if moved by wind. He bent his fingers to trace the lines.

He hadn’t dreamed it then! He and Lan Zhan were soulmates and he was talking to his soulmate (or his soulmate was talking to him) and take that Jiang Cheng!

Lan Zhan was speaking, “-we should not contact each other again. Goodbye.”

No. No! Lan Zhan didn’t know! “Wait!” but the call had already ended.

He’d needed the whole weekend on his jiejie’s couch with ice cream and soup to feel better about the whole business. See, the thing was, he wanted to talk to Lan Zhan about it. Mianmian was right; it wasn’t fair that the man now had a soulmark and no clue who he was tied to for life—literally. Once found, soulmates lived and died together, unless a powerful enough rejection broke the bond.

Every time Wei Ying opened the contact he’d created on his phone, he found himself shying away, a knot of anxiety coiling in his stomach and threatening to boil over into panic as it bound his hands and prevented any communication with Lan Zhan. He’d studied soulmates before, had taken two elective classes on them his freshman year of college. He knew the fear of a severed bond was merely psychological, a flight reaction to rejection.

Severed bonds were permanent and caused by verbal or otherwise evident rejection of a relationship between soulmates. Physically, soulmarks kept their color but stopped swirling across the skin, an obvious sign which led to the Unmoving’s ever-shifting status in society. Emotionally, the soulmates often sank into depression. And so it was ingrained into the body that such experiences should be avoided. Wei Ying’s worry, the possibility of never seeing Lan Zhan again, the fear that his soulmate didn’t want him, pushed his body to such reactions. The whole thing made it frustratingly difficult to just talk to him.

Mianmian remembered to catch him just as he was leaving. She’d spotted him while on her way to her old mustang and had flagged him down like he was speeding in a school zone.

In typical Mianmian style, she gave him a once over, noted his stressed and slightly shaky appearance and declared, “You need to call him. I know you have his number.” Maybe she did listen, sometimes.

He sighed, a burst of warm air that puffed out before him and chilled, disappearing as surely as his prospects with Lan Zhan. “It’s not that I don’t want to.” A look. “I’m not being evasive! I really, really do want to tell him. I know he doesn’t-” a pause, and he continued quieter, “doesn’t remember me or our bond but he’s so kind, he might accept it anyway. He did seem enthusiastic when he was drunk. But…”

Mianmian’s eyes softened and her face looked completely different. “I know I don’t tell you because frankly your head is usually too large to make it through the door in the morning, but you’re not bad-looking or mean or stupid. I mean, maybe you are sometimes and you can’t expect to match your Lan Zhan for beauty, but it’s not like you don’t have a chance.” The last time he’d heard this tone from her was when he’d had a breakdown in their walk-in refrigerator. It was strangely calming, bringing to mind his sister and her gentle touches.

He smiled, chuckling softly. “It’s not that. I know I’m a catch! Though maybe a ten where Lan Zhan’s off the scale,” he joked, “But I just physically can’t confess or whatever to him. He- he almost rejected me once, though he didn’t know about the bond. And maybe it’s not fair, but I can only picture a still soulmark whenever I consider calling him.” He hated revealing that about himself, but he knew Mianmian. They went out for drinks most Fridays and she could sniff out a lie from him while drunk and flirting with a different dude. Besides, despite her thorny words and genuine annoyance with him, she did care. She’d even treated him to drinks on his birthday.

Mianmian looked at him consideringly and nodded. She understood. “You’re scheduled for most of the morning shifts now since those two students were hired. I’ll try to join you and work the counter for a while.” She turned decisively and got in her car, accepting his thanks with a nod. ”Don’t be late.”

*~*~*~*~*

During the following week, they established a routine. He and Mianmian would arrive at the coffee shop, baking and preparing together until six when they opened. Wei Ying would disappear into the back room, getting blends together and cleaning until Lan Zhan left at around 6:30. He showed up at 6:05 most days, give or take a few minutes. On one notable occasion, he had walked up (he walked! When it was literally freezing outside!) to the cafe at 5:55 and Mianmian had graciously let him in while Wei Ying made himself scarce.

Strangely, not once had Lan Zhan ordered coffee. In the coffee shop! Instead, he asked for infuriatingly healthy teas and protein bars which unfortunately did not include Wei Ying's prized creation: sweet habanero bars. Wei Ying had started to wonder why he even came. Their tea wasn't even that good! Not that Wei Ying liked tea, particularly, so he had to admit that he was perhaps not the best judge.

Still, he wondered if the punctual ringing of the bell had anything to do with the pull in his own hand, in his own mind, that wanted him to be closer to Lan Zhan. That wanted him to touch him, to talk to him, to accept him. Soulmarks, after all, did not care if one knew their soulmate or not. They were connected anyway.

One day, a week after the near-disastrous second meeting, Mianmian had to take off. She'd been applying for jobs recently, hoping to find a secretarial position with stable enough hours and pay to allow her to continue her schooling in law. A place nearby had allowed an interview and she didn't have time to take the morning shift.

So here Wei Ying was at six in the morning, working the counter as an exhausted student he wasn't letting within ten feet of the espresso machine stumbled around in the back room. He was stressed himself, but for once it seemed to work in his favor, tiring him out so completely that he'd fallen asleep while the clock was still on PM. He figured if he had to see his soulmate today, at least he wouldn't look like the zombie he normally did.

Wei Ying watched as a figure in a blue the color of his soulmark— their soulmark, as he'd learned the patterns and colors of pairs tended to be mirrors of each other—strode, sure and steady, through the door right as the grandfather clock in the corner struck 6:05.

A flicker of something passed through those golden eyes—surprise, maybe?—as he approached the counter. Just like before, Wei Ying's heart began beating wildly, echoing loudly in his ears and nearly deafening him. This time, however, he could also feel a slight tug, like a silk string had wrapped itself around his heart and was now gently pulling him closer to its other end. His soulmate.

A deep, quiet voice cut through his thoughts, and he quickly lowered the hand, his left one, that had been slowly reaching out. As he came back to awareness, he was suddenly beyond grateful for the gloves he'd decided to wear today. His mark would be a dead giveaway. "Good morning. Is there a certain tea blend you would suggest?"

For a moment, Wei Ying was taken aback, distracted by the man's voice and lost in his eyes, not completely comprehending the question. "Wh- What?" he stammered. "Oh, um, I'm more of a coffee guy myself, what do you usually get?" He spoke quickly, the words tumbling out of his mouth. Was he revealing too much? Now Lan Zhan knew that Wei Ying knew he was a regular customer! Should he have just said Citrus! Tried and true ?

Lan Zhan's brow furrowed, a minuscule movement that would have been lost had Wei Ying not spent the last eternity staring at his eyes. He opened his mouth and Wei Ying decided that it was best if he focused on something else, in the interest of his own health. "I will take whichever coffee you prefer."

Wei Ying was speechless, a feat not many had achieved. Over the last week, he had used Mianmian as a spy, asking detailed questions about everything that Lan Zhan did. She was a surprisingly good sport about. The point was, Lan Zhan had always ordered tea, a different blend each day, and never anything else.

Lan Zhan turned around, unbothered by Wei Ying's confused and flustered state, and sat down at a two-person table next to the bookshelf. He pulled out a laptop from his bag and began typing away. Wei Ying squinted at the screen in disbelief, but couldn't make out the words from this angle.

He shook himself and went about preparing the mocha, opting to skip over the spice he liked to add. A memory of a truth-or-dare game in which Lan Zhan admitted disliking spicy foods provided a hazy warning. A shame, if you asked Wei Ying, but he hadn't. Wei Ying had told him anyway.

He paused before bringing the drink over to his soulmate. It just looked so sad, both the drink and Lan Zhan, sitting quietly in an empty coffee shop as the sky only just began to awaken. He still didn't think he could properly talk to the man if his performance earlier was anything to go by, but maybe he could...

He reached into the display case, wrapped his gift in a napkin, and delivered Lan Zhan's drink, a little addition tucked neatly beside it. He turned and just about ran to the counter, pulling out a rag and cleaning non-existent spills until Lan Zhan left.

When he finally heard the door close, Wei Ying straightened up from his bunker and drifted, dazed, over to clean Lan Zhan's table, finding only an empty cup. Wei Ying smiled. His heart-shaped ginger cookie hadn't been abandoned, despite the bold way it was offered. Perhaps he wouldn't be, either.

Emboldened by his success, Wei Ying called Mianmian and resumed his position at the counter, a plan formed and ready to be completed. He wasn't sure if it was caused by the civil and promising conversation yesterday or sheer eagerness, but he thought, just maybe, that he'd be able to get himself to talk to Lan Zhan. Hopefully.

*~*~*~*~*

At 6:05, Wei Ying was doubting his chances. He watched as Lan Zhan walked up to the counter, just as confidently as he had the day before, steadily getting closer. As Wei Ying had found tended to happen when one moved. His breathing quickened, the now expected response to his soulmate's presence, and he responded to the sharp tug in his chest by stepping back, just slightly. He was distinctly reminded of a prey animal trapped by a predator.

Instead of biting his head off, Lan Zhan simply stepped up to the counter and examined the fresh pastries sitting in the display case, for whatever reason ignoring the barista's slightly gaping mouth.

Wei Ying swallowed, stood up straighter than he did when he visited Madam Yu, and summoned up this morning's courage that had so suddenly abandoned his poor self.

"Welcome to Latte Mugs Cafe! What can I get you?" There, his voice barely shook!

Lan Zhan hummed—wow, that was way hotter than it should have been—and tilted his head just the slightest bit to glance at the menu on the wall. "I will have a mocha."

He'd liked it then! Wei Ying hadn't pegged Lan Zhan as a chocolate person, but he supposed he might have a secret sweet tooth. "No problem. It'll only take a few minutes. Would you like to make it a Mexican mocha?" He couldn't help but recommend it, not after he'd worked so hard to get it on the menu. He'd written an essay to the owner. Besides, he'd taken Wei Ying’s mocha suggestion and eaten his cookie. He wondered what Lan Zhan would do with something Wei Ying knew he didn’t like.

His stomach turned a little at the thought that he was getting to know more about Lan Zhan and he wondered idly if he could really blame all of this on their soul bond or if he should take responsibility for his traitorous heart. He dismissed the thought. If anything, Lan Zhan should be the one taking responsibility merely by virtue of existing. That thought twisted his insides even more. Ugh .

Lan Zhan gave a little noise that Wei Ying chose to interpret as assent before sitting back down. He stared in surprise for a minute at his turned back before carefully preparing the drink. When it was done, he once again paused before rounding the counter. Surely, Lan Zhan needed to eat something with his coffee. Who knew if he'd even eaten breakfast? He bent down, scanning the available treats, and plucked one from the shelf, placing it carefully on a napkin before bouncing over to Lan Zhan's little table by the bookshelf, trademark grin in place. Courage, don't fail me now.

"Hello, Sir! One mexican mocha right here!" All of his best (and worst) decisions had been made by following his instincts. He pulled the chair around from the other side of the table, scraping it loudly across the rough tile, and decidedly sat down, holding out his bright red offering with only a moderate heart attack. "It's a habanero bar! I made the recipe and it pairs perfectly with the Mexican mocha, trust me. Oh, and I'll pay for it, of course." Technically untrue, but he didn't think he could steal something he'd made.

Lan Zhan looked a little surprised if Wei Ying had interpreted the meaning of that blink correctly. Was he regretting his spicy choices? Still, he reached out a hand and took the treat with an appreciative nod. "Thank you, Wei Ying."

What. "Eh? How'd you know my name?" Oh please for the love of all that is beautiful, don't bring up the bar. Lan Zhan had forgotten. He had! But if he hadn't, then...

"Your name tag."

Oh. Maybe the three coffees he'd had this morning in preparation had...altered his cognitive abilities. At least, that was the story he was going with.

"Well! You have me at a disadvantage, then!” Yeah, because he’s hiding a night of crimes and a soul bond from you. “What might the name of this handsome one be?" Should he be flirting? Where was the button to turn it off?? Then again, Lan Zhan was his soulmate . If there was one person in his life he was supposed to flirt with, surely it was him.

"Lan Zhan." Were his ears red? Was he hot? Was he blushing ? The rest of his face maintained its pale composure, but his ears were gently dusted pink. Lan Zhan had been inside too long to attribute it to the biting wind outside. Wei Ying's grin widened. Not even when the man had woken up wasted had he seen him blush!

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan," he rolled the well-worn name in his mouth, a teasing lilt to his voice as he tasted how his tongue completed a pleasant circle around the syllables. This time, their flavor was not regretful or drunken or stressed. Simply Lan Zhan.

Wei Ying did not leave. Instead, he just started talking about all sorts of things—his job, his siblings, Mianmian. As he fell into the familiar pattern of rambling for as long as people will listen, he found himself relaxing.

"You'd think we wouldn't be that great of friends. We're coworkers in a coffee shop! But even though she claims I'm an annoying gremlin who wouldn't know his head from a rock in a lineup, she still comes out to get drinks with me—at Marco's, a few minutes away—every Friday. Sometimes, she even brings her new boyfriends! Which is like taking your partner to meet the weird relatives. I think she might use it as some sort of test. I drink them under the table nearly every time, though, so I hope they failed." He realizes, belatedly, that he'd accidentally mentioned the bar. One of literally two subjects to avoid. He discreetly eyed Lan Zhan's face, but there was no reaction, no indication of familiarity, just two golden eyes, gazing at him with interest as his soulmate listened.

Wei Ying’s heart stuttered, dangerously close to giving out altogether.

Eventually, Lan Zhan had to leave, quick movements revealing just how late he was for music lessons—he taught children to play the guqin! For a living!—and Wei Ying smiled brightly as he watched him disappear down the street. See , he thought to himself, there was nothing to be worried about.

The plan had gone off without a hitch. Not only had he managed to talk to Lan Zhan, but he'd also been able to get several responses from him, filling up the part of his memory reserved for the man he wouldn't ever forget.

These new pearls of knowledge he kept close: Lan Zhan was a music teacher and occasional performer with a local traditional music group. He taught and played the guqin most often but had played the violin in his high school orchestra. During his studies for university, he had learned several other string instruments and the french horn. He had an older brother, Lan Huan. He liked rabbits.

During the course of the next week, he learned these things and protected them: Lan Zhan and his brother had been raised by their uncle. They were not religious, but his family was traditional. Lan Zhan had gone to a private school. He hadn't liked it. Lan Zhan's mother was dead. He spoke of his father in the past tense. Both of his parents were Unmoving, their soul bonds broken. Lan Zhan hadn’t known if they were meant for each other or not. He despised lying in all of its forms.

There were also these things which laid soft and fond in Wei Ying's heart: Lan Zhan did not, in fact, like spice. He enjoyed drinking tea and reading a book in the park when it was warm outside. He preferred mysteries. He did not mind Wei Ying's chatter. He adored his students, one of which had little natural talent but had gone to region-wide contests. He was a lover of poetry and a hobbiest composer. He said "Wei Ying" as if the world spun around his name.

Talking with Lan Zhan was an experience greater than words. Many things Lan Zhan meant, he did not say. None of the things he said were to be taken for granted. With him, silence was just as comforting a companion as the loud atmosphere Wei Ying tended to create. It settled peaceful and honest around them. They sat, drank, and ate together as if they were friends of many years and not relative acquaintances. Like there wasn’t a secret resting between them like a viper waiting for its prey.

*~*~*~*~*

A week after their first meeting, it snowed. Flakes drifted down beneath a grey sky, piling up in the cracks on the sidewalks, on the windowsills, dusting the beanie of a certain Lan Zhan that strode in slowly even as he shivered from beneath his coat. Rosy cheeks and ears adorned a normally pale, jade-like face, tousled hair falling down to frame it as he removed the beanie. Wei Ying fell in love a little more at the adorable scene.

Once he’d made Lan Zhan's spiced apple tea, Wei Ying drifted over with his own latte, a chocolate chip cookie in hand.

"Do you own a car, Lan Zhan?" Wei Ying was curious. Surely he could have simply driven here, or even gone straight to work and skipped the weather entirely.

"Mn. I have lessons all over the city and we often perform hours away from here." Then why , Wei Ying thought, would you come here when it’s below freezing outside? He did not voice the question, though, because Lan Zhan's jaw had shifted just slightly, the difference a clear declaration: his mind could not be changed about this. Fine. He’d let Lan Zhan live with his choices.

Wei Ying laughed and changed the subject, reaching out to draw patterns in the cream of Lan Zhan’s coffee with his straw . "When's your next performance?"

Lan Zhan sat for a moment, thinking. "We do not have one lined up. We've been practicing to release an album recently."

"Oh really? Why? Just earlier this week you mentioned that the group didn't have the resources for it." He really hoped they would, though. Maybe with a solo piece from Lan Zhan? He hadn't heard him play yet, a true shame.

"Mn. I found a sound artist." His voice was sure and steady as he stared at Wei Ying, who looked away and chuckled awkwardly.

"You should have told me that was all you needed! I would have done the job for free, as long as you played for me. I have a bachelor's in audio engineering, you know!" To be honest, Wei Ying was a little hurt that he'd not been considered, or else Lan Zhan had tuned him out during one of the times when he had just spewed whatever came to mind.

Before he turned around, he felt a hand on his through his left glove and he flinched at the sensitive contact on his mark. Still, he longed to grasp Lan Zhan’s hand and never let go . "Wei Ying. It is you," he paused, and slowly removed his hand, the echoes of his fingertips burning trails on Wei Ying's skin even through the fabric. "If you choose to accept." He takes a breath, and says, quieter, "I would like it very much if you did."

Like a lightbulb turned back on, Wei Ying brightened immediately, an obvious flush of embarrassment darkening his cheeks. He leaned forward, throwing his arms around Lan Zhan in a hug both to hide his face and to just get closer. Wei Ying mumbled into his shoulder, "Of course. Of course I accept. Thank you so much!" He leaned back after a too-short moment, looking Lan Zhan in the eyes and smiling. "When do I start?"

They settled all the details. Wei Ying would be attending their 6 PM practice three days a week for a month before recording and editing the final tracks. He would, actually, be paid, though they couldn't afford the usual rates. That was fine with him. Really, he just needed to put something in the ‘Experience’ section of his resume. Well, plus his overwhelming desire to hear Lan Zhan play his guqin.

When Lan Zhan opened the door to leave, Wei Ying called out for him to stop. He stepped forward exactly one step, in a completely normal and not-at-all-nervous way. He opened his mouth, closed it, and blurted out before he could change his mind, "Doyouwannagetdinnerwithme?"

Lan Zhan gave him a flat look, but the mischievous glint in his eyes betrayed his understanding. Wei Ying took a steadying breath, fought the urge to glare, and stated loudly and clearly, "Will you go out with me later tonight?” His face felt like it was on fire. “As thanks for the job?" No one would ever guess the stone-faced man had a sense of humor, but Wei Ying was living evidence of it.

Finally, after a beat of silence during which Wei Ying mourned his stolen heart, Lan Zhan nodded once. "I will pick you up at your house at seven. Where do you live?"

The pure excitement that filled Wei Ying at Lan Zhan’s acceptance prevented any protest about how he was supposed to take Lan Zhan out and gave the man his address. As the ever-present bell marked Lan Zhan's departure, all Wei Ying could think was that he had a date. That he had a chance .

His palm tingled in anticipation as he ran to the back room to tell Mianmian the good news, filled with all the details she couldn’t get while eavesdropping.

*~*~*~*~*

Five minutes after getting in the car, Wei Ying regretted letting Lan Zhan drive. He should have risked his unused license or else simply called a cab because they were nowhere near the restaurant he had suggested, and he didn't know what to tell Lan Zhan if the man picked a nicer place. A barista was only paid so much!

Still, Lan Zhan refused to turn the car around or even explain himself when Wei Ying asked. He simply kept his eyes fixed on the road, staring at it as if it might disappear if refused Lan Zhan’s attention (Wei Ying sympathized). That determined set to his jaw was firmly in place. His eyes narrowed, and Wei Ying had the distinct impression that he was a man on a mission. Wei Ying just wished he'd been given a briefing.

Cars passed in pools of red and white that blended well into the background of a late December metropolis. Only about a week was left until Christmas and the trees were adorned with brightly glowing lights that bathed the streets in a familiar mix of artificial fluorescence and beauty.

He liked this time of year, enjoyed how his apartment complex decorated its buildings, smiled when the granny next door brought him homemade cookies and hot chocolate. He didn't even mind the cold that much, not when branching frost framed the windows and Lan Zhan's cheeks flushed red.

They were stuck in Friday night traffic for longer than he suspected Lan Zhan had planned, based on the finger softly tapping on the wheel, but eventually, Lan Zhan drove into a parking garage a good distance away from any restaurant Wei Ying knew and got out.

They walked a few blocks, glad for the several layers of clothes (Wei Ying actually had a reason to wear gloves, for once), before stopping at the entrance to one of the city's parks. A stone path twisted through the trees, a canopy of a million white stars enclosing the area and welcoming the two of them.

He grinned, turning to Lan Zhan and teasing, "I think we skipped a step. Romantic walks through the woods go after dinner."

A drawn-out, "Mn," the one that meant 'ridiculous', was the only answer he received. Instead, Lan Zhan smiled , which—wow. Illegal.—and offered Wei Ying his arm with far too much confidence. He blushed, hoped it wasn't visible in the lighting, and took it, only feeling slightly like some sort of flustered Victorian maiden.

Did Lan Zhan know what he was doing? Did he take every friend and business associate out to fairy gardens when they asked him to dinner?

Thoroughly confused but aware that Lan Zhan wasn't going to answer any pointed questions, he decided to enjoy the evening and pester him about the food instead.

"Lan Zhaaan," he whined, staring at the way the lights gave Lan Zhan's face an ethereal glow, " “When are you going to feed your poor A-Ying?"

At this, Lan Zhan put his other hand on Wei Ying's where it was nestled in the crook of his elbow in a comforting gesture and reassured, his voice calm, "We are almost there."

Wei Ying spent the rest of the walk as he was accustomed to doing around Lan Zhan—talking his ear off. He admired the lights, expressed his appreciation for Lan Zhan's outfi—a dark blue coat over Wei Ying's favorite knitted white sweater—and asked about the songs his group had chosen for their concert.

He couldn't wait to hear Lan Zhan play. He suspected music was the quieter man's true outlet for expressing his feelings, a language without the burden of words.

Lan Zhan spoke too, not as often or as loud, but he answered and asked questions of his own. Did Wei Ying play an instrument too? He had—flute in high school, though he preferred the piccolo, all the better to annoy people with. Portable, too! Why did he like alcohol? It was the experience, more than the taste, especially at a cheap place like Marco's. Was he planning on getting his Master's? He wasn't sure. He wanted to pay off some of his student loans before getting deeper in debt.

The easy conversation made Wei Ying relax, happy as always to be around Lan Zhan. It was strange to think that a week ago, he’d never met the man. He didn’t think he could live without him now.

Finally, they took a smaller, branching path, and Wei Ying gasped at its end; a white gazebo bathed in soft purple lights sat like a fairy house among gleaming trees.

He released Lan Zhan's elbow and took a step forward before looking back at his companion with an open mouth.

"You...you arranged all of this?" he asked, wonder coloring his voice.

Another "Mn," accompanied by a self-satisfied tightening of the mouth.

Wei Ying had long since given up trying to understand any of Lan Zhan's actions, but he was hopelessly endeared all the same. He grabbed his arm again, this time pulling him up the wooden steps and squealing in glee.

To one side there was a table laden with all sorts of foods, including, he was overjoyed to note, many dyed deliciously red. On the other side of the gazebo, a long, low table sat, a intricately carved, dark guqin resting atop it. A cushion, metal heater, and blanket were laid before the instrument, ready for use.

Impressed, Wei Ying went to inspect the dishes closer, his growling stomach refusing to wait any longer. He wondered at what time today Lan Zhan had time to set all of this up. Had he canceled some of his lessons?

Sitting down, he voiced his question, mouth watering at the appetizing smells.

Lan Zhan filled both of their plates, picking out for him nearly exactly what Wei Ying would have chosen, and answered, "I reserved the gazebo, but my brother set this up less than an hour ago." Wei Ying was incredibly grateful for Lan Huan. His food was still hot!

The meal passed mostly in silence. Though Lan Zhan had no problem talking over tea, he did not like to have a conversation around bites of food. For once, Wei Ying was happy not to say anything, simply appreciating the companionship and good meal.

He tried not to think too much about why Lan Zhan was doing all of this. He wasn't stupid, was in fact painfully and adoringly aware of the romantic setting, but that fear he had thought long since gone crept around his heart, daring him to hope and be crushed in its vindication. So he swallowed his words and ate his food in borrowed peace.

By the time they finished, Wei Ying's stomach was pleasantly full and he beamed at Lan Zhan, thanking him for the meal. Lan Zhan nodded and stood up, helping Wei Ying to his feet and leading him to the waiting cushion and—Wei Ying hoped—the performance.

"You really prepared!" He teased, pulling the blanket over himself.

Lan Zhan turned on the heater—the quiet, expensive kind—and hummed.

Then, he lowered himself onto his own cushion (sans blanket) and reached out to his guqin, warming up for a moment before glancing at Wei Ying, a suddenly hesitant edge to his eyes. "Are you ready?"

Wei Ying's smile softened and he nodded, fondness for the talented man before him almost unbearable. Lan Zhan returned his focus to the instrument and began to play.

It felt like the constant tug around his heart, like the many words that lay behind them and the greater part left unspoken, like 6:05 in the morning and laughter that tastes like coffee beans.

He closed his eyes and let the music fill him, heart thrumming in time with the music and creating streams of pure feeling that branched out through his body until it reached his left palm. Wei Ying curled his hand in on itself. He wanted to memorize the sensation, its slight pain magnified and singular, but still a pull, a tug on his very soul. The feeling that encouraged him, warned him around Lan Zhan, his longing.

Wei Ying opened his eyes, simply gazing at where Lan Zhan kneeled behind his guqin, the gazebo’s lights framing his form as his graceful hands plucked at the strings, playing a song straight from his soul. He breathed in the cold air, letting it calm him and douse the burning in his veins.

As he played, Wei Ying felt his fear melt in the face of the pure emotion Lan Zhan channeled through the strings, felt his guilt harden into resolve because Lan Zhan didn’t know.

He kept silent for the moment, though. He needed to let Lan Zhan finish the piece, not only because silencing those strings now when all of Lan Zhan’s soul shaped the notes seemed cruel, but also because Wei Ying was greedy, and selfish. He wanted to keep this last, perfect memory, wanted to lock it in his heart like a golden thorn, a stolen parting gift if his words were not welcomed.

And so Lan Zhan played.

Wei Ying could not say how long it was before the song ended, could only center his mind around the swirling clouds that he knew curled across his palm, hidden like a shame when they were anything but. Finally, the last notes faded like acceptance into the cold night, and Wei Ying breathed in, and out, and longed.

“Lan Zhan.” It came out as a whisper, a ghost of a declaration. He needed a barrier between the song and his precipice of honesty. “What-” he stalled, biting back the hope, the despair. “What did you name it?”

Lan Zhan raised his gaze from where it had been fixed on the instrument, seeking out Wei Ying. He stood up in one smooth motion and crossed to where Wei Ying sat, pinned beneath golden eyes filled with something . An emotion he hadn’t seen, hadn’t categorized.

Carefully, Lan Zhan lowered himself to sit on the large cushion. He slid his gaze to Wei Ying’s left hand clenched on his knee, lifting his own and gently taking it, seeming to gauge Wei Ying’s reaction, but he only tilted his head in confusion. Why..?

Lan Zhan began pulling off his glove.

Wei Ying yanked his hand back. He couldn’t- why would he? He was going to tell him about the mark, but why did he want to know? Did he suspect he was Unmoving? Would he hate him if he knew the truth? That Wei Ying had played him for a fool, too cowardly to tell him about their bond?

At the stressed, almost wounded look in Lan Zhan’s eyes, Wei Ying made an aborted movement, reaching to comfort him. “Oh, Lan Zhan…” he breathed. He didn’t touch him, but after a moment of hesitation, offered his hand to his soulmate, palm up. Lan Zhan had merely been braver than he had, after all. The result would be the same.

Lan Zhan’s eyes softened and he carefully tugged off the glove, revealing the incriminating, promising, honest pattern. Twisting designs of blue clouds and red lotuses covered both their palms, side by side, blurred together as his throat closed and breath hitched. He made to move away, to leave Lan Zhan with the knowledge of his lie, but his wrist was gently but firmly held in place.

He sighed. Lan Zhan wanted him to say it, to confess, and suddenly the courage of a few minutes ago seemed out of his reach.

“Lan Zhan, you’re so good. Too good. Too good for me.” His breath caught. “I- I’ve known. This whole time.” He looked Lan Zhan in his clear, gentle eyes. “Lan Zhan. We’re soulmates. We have been since you got drunk at the bar.” He let out a shaky laugh, the first tear making its way down his cheek. “Well, I suppose we’ve been soulmates forever, but I found you then, and fell in love a little. You don’t remember, but you said you were happy. You went around showing random people your mark.” He was rambling again, but he couldn’t stop and nor could he leave.

He released it all, all of the caged words he should have laid at Lan Zhan’s feet a week ago. “I was so excited when you called me that morning. I thought you wanted to talk, to form a real relationship, but then you- you wouldn’t listen and it wasn’t your fault , you’d been drunk for the first time in your life, had a killer hangover I’m sure. But I- I thought if I called you, you’d just do the same thing again and leave me but then we became friends and I didn't want you to leave so I didn’t tell you and-”

“I am not.” Lan Zhan cut him off, voice quiet and pained, but firm.

“What?” he sniffled.

“I have not left you. I am not abandoning you, Wei Ying.” His eyes were pleading, filled with sincerity. He looked—so earnest and Wei Ying froze, uncertain.

“But—you hate lying.”

“I do not like hypocrites either. Wei Ying-” He looked away for the first time and Wei Ying panicked for a brief moment, what did I do wrong , before Lan Zhan spoke again, ears a deeper shade of red. “I knew too. This whole time.”

“What.” What?? Whatever Wei Ying had been expecting, it hadn’t been this.

“My brother was there at the bar. He...told me the next morning, but I did not handle the news well. I am sorry. I was simply surprised, and nervous. I did not remember you.”

Wei Ying was reeling. Lan Zhan knew and didn’t tell him but that was unfair because Wei Ying hadn’t told him either, so they’d both known, separately, and here they were, taking each other on a date and Wei Ying laughed, crazed at first, and desperate, but then an exclamation of pure joy. The atmosphere was romantic, after all.

He laughed and laughed and like a guqin string worn from loving use, the tension broke. He threw himself at his soulmate, at Lan Zhan, and hugged him until Lan Zhan hugged him back, until their eyes stung from tears and their voices grew hoarse from repeating the other’s name.

Wei Ying pulled back, cheeks flushed in the cold and eyes shining as he looked up at a soft smile. He reached out, cupping Lan Zhan’s cheek and resting their foreheads together, the contact burning, melting the longing that had become a permanent fixture inside of him. Breaths mingled, puffing out in this warm space between them for a timeless moment.

With confidence born not from instinct or daring, but rather a heart securely held, he closed the distance between them, brushing winter-chapped lips against Lan Zhan’s soft ones, his last confession a raw whisper, returned with the same gravity it was given.

From then on, he held this warm truth in his heart: Lan Zhan loved Wei Ying, his soulmate.

Breathless and overwhelmed, he entwined their hands, bared patterns moving against each other, together. Nothing lay between them now, no confessions and no secrets. Only these: a prayer, a completed promise, and a bright future.

Extra:

“So, how did you know?” Wei Ying asked, exploring Lan Zhan’s purse.

He hummed, amused. “You told me yourself.”

“I did not! I’m pretty sure that was, like, goal number one. ‘Don’t tell Lan Zhan!’” he recited, voice playfully serious.

Lan Zhan brushed the hair out of Wei Ying’s eyes and took his left hand, fingers tracing the evidence of their bond.

“You waved.”

“But I had on gloves- oh.” He hadn’t, not yet. He only started wearing them after Lan Zhan had walked in the first day. “So you walked into some random shop and saw your soulmate who immediately disappeared.”

“Mn.” Lips brushed the top of his head.

Wei Ying laughed at himself as he went back to the purse. You could learn a lot from what a person kept in theirs! He pulled out a piece of paper, a half-composed score, handing it to Lan Zhan and looking deeper. Some chapstick (no wonder his lips were so soft!), several pens, a book on music theory, and—what was this? He grabbed it and brought it to the light. One of the cafe’s napkins, something wrapped inside. What? He peeled away the months-old paper, a breath caught in his lungs as the object was revealed.

It was the cookie, the heart-shaped ginger crisp he’d given Lan Zhan the first time he’d taken his order.

“You! What am I going to do with you!” he laughed, the sound bright and joyful as he tackled his soulmate in a hug.

“Marry me.”

“WHAT?!!”

#koikoipond #wangxiansolstice20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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cherryblossom-chopper · 5 years ago

Note

Idk if you're still doing hc, but if you are, what about the straw hats reaction to another straw hat/friend being apart of the LGBTQ? (also love your stuff 🥺👏👏)

Yeah sugar my inbox is practically always open 💕 ily

As a side note for anyone who’s come out to family and friends just know I’m so proud of you for doing something so difficult. For anyone who hasn’t come out yet that’s okay too and I’m still proud of you because being in the closest can be painful. All of you are such strong important people. I love you all.

- So as like a blanket statement all the Straw Hats are super chill with LGBTQ+ and I HC most of them to be part of the community

-They’ll be super protective of you when you first come out because your their precious friend and they don’t want anyone to hurt you

Luffy

- When his crew mate comes out to him he’s kinda... unimpressed?

-It’s just not a huge deal. he’ll smile and say, “Okay! Awesome! Wanna have a water gun fight with me and Chopper?”

-or something like that

-I HC Luffy as pansexual but he’s not really into putting labels on stuff like that. He’s just Luffy and he loves he who loves (idk if there’s a specific term for that)

Zoro

-It’s not that Zoro doesn’t care, he’s very proud of you for coming out, he’s just not that expressive

-He’ll probably grunt and say “cool beans” lol no he’d never say cool beans but imagine if he did

- nah nah Zoro would be like “alright cool, wanna be my squatter”

-I view Zoro as gay but like... I don’t know, I think Zoro is in love with Luffy and doesn’t know how to deal with it

Nami

-Nami is so happy and proud of you for coming out even though she already knew

-Nami called it from the beginning because her own gaydar was off the charts

-I HC Nami as a lesbian and Vivi is her girlfriend omg they’re so cute

Usopp

-Alright Usopp is so happy for you. Like he’s so excited just because now his friend can be their most authentic self

-Immediatly starts doodling like Pride drawings and makes paintings for you using your flag colors

-Usopp is a bisexual baby boy

Sanji

-Sanji is a little bit surprised actually but he’s happy

-He obviously makes a huge celebratory feast for his dear friend. Sanji makes your favorite foods and makes enough so there are left overs hidden from Luffy

-Sanji is bi-curious. He’s always liked girls but sometimes he sees a dude (Zoro) and is like “DAYUM” but has never acted on it

Chopper

-He’s so happy and excited for you. Chopper starts crying because he thinks your so brave and he loves you so much and he knows things can be hard

-If you happen to be looking to transition or get some type of hormones Chopper would be more than happy to find someone who can help you

-Chopper is straight ?? Idk to me Chopper is a tiny baby that doesn’t have sex

Robin

- As the mom friend she’s so proud of her precious baby

-But also as the mom friend she will 100% give you a safe sex talk (unless you come out as ace) then she’ll get you some books that have protagonists that are part of the LGBTQ+ community

-Robin is bisexual and typically prefers women but is drawn closely to Franky

Franky

- Makes a confetti canon and fills it with with homemade confetti that matches your pride flag

-He also does face paint for the entire crew that also matches that color

-Franky is straight and is really into women and is a creep ol perv cause he doesn’t know how to deal with his feeling for Robin

Brook

- Brooks bones are ratteling because he’s so proud and he’s ready to celebrate

- Brook writes an epic poem written and music to go with it about you and your life

-Is straight?? Maybe he has a penis I’m honestly not sure tbh

Carrot

-Carrot is a bit confused actually because Minks have a more fluid concept of sexuality and gender, after a bit of explaining Carrot is very happy for you

-Carrot will pounce on her friend and nibble on you as a sign of affection and happiness

-Carrot is pansexual and heavily relies on emotional connections for positive relationships

Jimbe

-Just a big ol proud fish dad though he kind of suspected that you were part of the LGBTQ+ community

-Idk he just does what dads do in this situation, where he’s reading the newspaper and if you come out he’ll say “Oh, I’m glad.” And then goes back to his paper

#one piece #usopp #luffy #robin #chopper #nami #franky #jimbe #carrot #sanji #zoro #one piece Lgbtq #lgbtq #pride

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starlightinhumanform · 5 years ago

Text

The Art of Love: Chapter 12

Fandom: She Ra (2018)

Ship: Glimadora

Summary: While Glimmer gets to spend some time with her mother, Angella, she gets a potentially disastrous text from Adora.

Warnings (for this chapter): Food Mention, One reference to parental death, Some discussions of internalized homophobia (please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: High School AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rivals/Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Fluff

A/N: I have to say,,, this has turned out to be much slower of a burn than I originally expected but oh well, the story will do what it wants. I am so happy and excited to continue working on it. I have found such a sweet and wonderful community through this silly story and I hope you all know just how much I appreciate each and every one of you. Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3 The Art of Love Masterpost Fic Masterpost Fic Request Info

A few hours and several hastily done homework assignments later, Glimmer sat across from her mother at the dinner table and quietly moved broccoli across her plate. It was her mom’s day off which meant they finally got the chance to spend time together. Unfortunately it also meant her mother felt obligated to cook dinner.

She glanced up to see her mother mirroring her actions, using her fork to bat at what Glimmer could only assume to be something that was- at one point or another- a vegetable.

Her mother wrinkled her nose as she looked up at Glimmer, “It’s not very good is it?”

Glimmer smiled, trying to lighten the blow, “It’s not... great, no.”

Angella sighed, “Pizza again?”

“Well, I don’t know. This isn’t too inedible.”

She stuck her tongue out at Glimmer and laughed, “Stop teasing me! I’m trying my best!”

Her mother began moving to get up, presumably to order a pizza for the third week in a row, but Glimmer scrambled to get out of her chair first, “I’ll get it don’t worry!”

Glimmer had a hate/love relationship with having her mom finally home. She enjoyed being able to see her and rant about the stupid shit both of them had been forced to deal with. Their was a certain comfort in laughing until you’re crying with a person you know has the same sense of humor as you. On the flip side, that didn’t happen very often. At least, not anymore. It was far more common for Angella to laugh lightly, leaving Glimmer wondering where all the joy her mother used to hold had gone. She was tired. Work was hard and long and unpredictable; things would have been far easier if she wasn’t the only one bringing income into the household. Glimmer saw the stress it put on her mother- both physically and mentally- and wished she could do something to fix it all.

“Thank you, dear,” Glimmer could hear the relief in her mother’s voice and knew her legs must have been bothering her after standing on them all day.

“Yeah no problem, Mom,” Glimmer grabbed her phone off the kitchen counter and was about to dial the local pizza place when a notification flag caught her eye. The text came from a number unregistered in her contacts but she knew it well. Adora.

She could only see the first few words of the message:

Hey! I was wondering...

A thousand possible situations flashed across Glimmer’s mind- most of them revolving around the image of Elizabeth chattering away to Adora, casual as could be while she ripped apart Glimmer’s world.

And now Adora was texting her, probably asking why the hell Glimmer would ever possibly be foolish enough to crush on someone so out of her league. But she would never say anything like that; she would try to let Glimmer down easy. And it would hurt so much worse because Glimmer wouldn’t even have the comfort of hiding behind anger. It would all be soft words and sympathetic frowns and dull blades that did so much more damage than the one sweeping sword Glimmer wished Adora would reject her with, but knew she never would.

“Everything ok?” Angella called from the dining table, probably wondering why she hadn’t heard a sound when this was usually around the time Glimmer tried to sneak pineapple onto their order.

“Yeah, sorry! Got a little distracted!” Glimmer prayed her voice didn’t sound as strangled as felt in her throat.

“Well hurry up!! I’m hungry!”

Glimmer smiled at her mother’s playfully impatient tone before glaring down at the unopened notification.

She was tempted to throw her phone as far away from her as possible. Maybe into the garbage disposal at which time the switch would mysteriously flip on and the disposer would grind to life, ending all of Glimmer’s problems. On the other hand, she wanted pizza.

Glimmer paused for a second to think, bringing out all her customary mannerisms to do so- from chewing her lip to tapping her foot.

“Are you alright? Glimmer, is there really so much to be distracted by?”

Glimmer set her phone back on the counter face down and took a deep breath. She wasn’t ready to deal with whatever Adora was going to say. Or rather, had said and was now simply waiting for Glimmer to acknowledge. But Glimmer, in all her stubborn brilliance, decided she wasn’t going to acknowledge it. Not yet. Right now she was going to order some god damn pizza, attempt to sneak some pineapple onto it, and spend the rest of the night talking to her mom. The world owed her that much of a break.

She glanced over at her phone, its pastel rainbow case hardly representing the threat Glimmer felt it contained at the moment. All she had to do was was grab the phone and open the lock screen before she got a chance to read the message. Easy-peasy. She felt like a runner, coiled up at the starting line and ready to spring. She gave a small huff of a laugh. It’s just a text; you’re not trying to dodge bullets.

“Glimmer, what are you doing?”

“Yeah, Mom, sorry. I’m getting it now.”

“You’re not texting you friends are you?”

The irony very nearly got a legitimate laugh out of Glimmer, “No, Mom.”

She grabbed her phone, opened her lock with her thumbprint, and exhaled a breath she didn’t she had been holding. The message app held a red little bubble, trying to get her attention so she would answer the texts that had piled up since the last time she had checked. Glimmer knew at least four of them would be Bow, sending her memes. But one of them was Adora.

She shook her head. When it came down to it, she wanted pizza right now far more than she wanted any type of drama. Glimmer quickly pulled up her contacts, gave her usual order to one of the workers and walked back to the dining room; she left her phone in the kitchen.

Glimmer slid sideways into her chair, “So how was your day?”

Angella shrugged, “Pretty boring, really. Didn’t do much.”

“I mean that’s kinda the point of a day off,” Glimmer nodded as she spoke, trying to concentrate on the conversation instead of on the unopened message that waited for her on the kitchen counter. She felt guilty as her mind drifted away from what- no, who- she knew was more important. But it was like fighting an ocean’s tide; no matter how hard you grip the waves, they’re always going to pull away. And through her fingers, Glimmer’s attention would slip, always finding its way back to Adora.

It was beginning to be infuriating. The past few days had seemed completely centered around Adora. Every second Glimmer was getting a stomach ache over worrying about her or she was melting into some sad, pining puddle. Even when she managed to hold some composure, there was some nagging little feeling deep in the back of her mind that would eventually manage to bait and trap her focus. It was beginning to be ridiculous. This certainly wasn’t Glimmer’s first time having a crush, but she had never felt so trapped by her emotions before. It had never been this suffocating, so all-consuming. Anyways, she had more important things to be doing than daydreaming about something that was just that- a dream. But it was beginning to be unnerving. Because Glimmer didn’t know how to stop it.

“Hello there? Earth to Glimmer?”

“Hmm?” Glimmer snapped back to the present, scolding her mind for let her get so wrapped up in the middle of a conversation, “Hi. What were you saying?”

Her mom was smiling, “I was just asking how your day was, Miss Head in the Clouds.”

Glimmer pushed a smile onto her lips, “Oh, yeah I’m fine.”

Across the table, her mother’s eyebrows were pressed together, “You seem very tense.”

It was presented as a statement but Glimmer knew it was a question she was expected to answer.

“Really, I’m fine. I just have a big project right now and it’s... causing me some problems.” Well that’s not a lie.

“Oh?” Angella sat up a little, “What’s it on? What class is it for? What do you have to do?”

Her enthusiasm wasn’t contagious but it did hold a level of charm. Glimmer shook her head, “It’s not nearly as fun or exciting as you think it is. We just have to build a model of an element.”

“Wait is this for your chemistry class with that horrible teacher?” Glimmer’s mother jumped in, interrupting her with surprising passion, “What sort of problems are you having?”

Glimmer rolled her eyes, “Really, Mom, it’s no big deal. I’m... figuring it out, ok?”

Her mind flashed back to the time her mother had marched into the school’s front office- fuming and probably ready to physically fight someone- after Glimmer had complained about some idiots mocking her for being bi. It had been more infuriating than insulting or anything actually impactful. But Angella, in all of her attempts to be a supportive and protective mother, had decided to take matters into her own hands.

“And, uh, I don’t need any help.”

Her mother’s face fell in what Glimmer knew was disappointment, “Oh definitely. I’m sure you can handle it.”

“But if I need help, I’ll definitely tell you,” Glimmer tried.

Angella’s face brightened; it was nice to see her smile, “Ok!”

Silence settled between them. Angella let her eyes roam over Glimmer, studying her. It was obvious she was looking for something, mouth set and eyes slightly squinted. If anyone else had done it, Glimmer would have squirmed and snapped at them for even acknowledging her existence, let alone making her acknowledge it.

Glimmer just snorted though in response to her mother’s scrutiny, “Can I help you?”

Angella gave a tiny frown, “There’s something else going on. You have way too many thoughts floating around in your eyes for this just to be about a project.”

Glimmer shrugged and decided to focus on the easier subject of her plate instead of her mother. Her fork made a plink plink sound as she tapped it against the rim of her plate. It was almost funny to think she was so consumed by it all that apparently just her eyes gave it away. Just as strongly, it was disgusting to think she was so consumed by it, just her eyes gave it away. Even when she was trying to focus on something else, the thoughts in her head were loud enough to be heard by everyone around her.

Her mom’s frown deepened at Glimmer’s avoident answer, “Come on, what’s up?”

Glimmer looked up. Her mother’s warm brown eyes were searching her, concern written clearly on her face. It made a Glimmer wonder- if her mother was so easily readable- what her own face was displaying. What pining, sick to her stomach, completely hopeless novel she set down for people to see whenever they passed her.

Glimmer smiled sadly, if only for her mother’s beauty. She and Glimmer had dyed their hair together and the long pink strands drifted across her eyes and onto her shoulders. Her face was filled with determined warmth, trying to fix whatever was bothering Glimmer. But the creases between her eyebrows were far too deep and the frown on her face fit into place too comfortably. Glimmer didn’t want to add to those lines.

She waved her hand casually, “I’m just having some people problems.”

Her mother leaned forward, “What sort of people?”

Glimmer gave up. Maybe it would be better just to come clean, “Pretty people. There’s a girl in one of my classes that I kind of like.”

“Oh!” Glimmer couldn’t help but laugh at her mother’s genuinely surprised expression.

“What? You really thought my heart was so cold I couldn’t fall for someone?”

Angella opened and closed her mouth before speaking, “No, no it’s not that. That’s just not the type of problems you usually have. That’s almost, like, a normal problem.”

Glimmer rolled her eyes, “Wow, Mom, thanks. That’s not at all vaguely insulting.”

“That’s not what I meant! But that’s fun, isn’t it?” She had gained happy little light in her eyes and clapped her hands excitedly, “Tell me about her! Also a her? I mean, this is the first time you’ve told me about having a girl crush.”

Glimmer could feel her face flushing cherry red. There were so many open wounds her mother had bothered in just a few seconds of speech. Because, no, it wasn’t fun. It was overwhelming and terrifying and it had all hit so fast. It was like a tsunami- no warning and then boom the water was over Glimmer’s head and she was just struggling not to drown. And every time someone talked to her, they were assuming she was standing in the shallow end and just needed to remember how to swim. But swimming wasn’t going to help her now.

And it was intoxicating, all of her thoughts swarmed by emotions that buzzed and made it hard for any ideas to come through clearly. But it was addictive; she could let herself just float in that white noise for the rest of time. She could let herself sink beneath the waves and ignore her lungs as they screamed for air.

“Yeah,” Glimmer let the fork fall back to the plate and moved her hands to start fidgeting in her lap, “I think we’re both still getting used to the whole ‘girl’ thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, don’t you think it could be-“ Glimmer’s voice had risen in aggravation but cracked as she searched for a way to wrap all of her fears into one word, “Dangerous?”

“Glimmer, my darling, we live in a very accepting area- I know two whole lesbians at my job!! I think you’re overthinking it-“

Glimmer slammed the palm of her hand flat down on the tabletop, “Yes! I know! I do that! And people seem to think that telling me how ridiculous I’m acting will help! And guess what? It doesn’t. It doesn’t help in the slightest because maybe, just maybe, I’ll be right one of these days. Because the world sucks so why wouldn’t something else go wrong?!”

“I-“ Angella seemed speechless, marveling at the fury in Glimmer’s eyes. Glimmer sat stiffly and breathed heavily like she had just sprinted a mile. She dared her mother to challenge her.

Finally Glimmer was the one to give in, letting her posture collapse and the anger subside, “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that. It’s just, I’m so tired of being different. I stand out so much already. I’m the kid who can’t do anything but art and I cry too easily and I’m the one whose dad died... I wish I didn’t have to add my sexuality to that list.”

“Oh, darling,” Her mother’s voice was soft and seemed to dissolve into pieces as it broke.

Glimmer realized that maybe she had taken it too far, gone too deep, “I’m sorry. Just ignore what I said.”

“No, if you want to talk-“

Glimmer attempted once again to change the tone, smile a little too forced and voice a little too loud, “So about this girl. Yes! She’s very pretty and smart and funny.”

Angella’s lips twitched into a frown, “You sound like you’re reading off a list. I can tell you’re just trying to avoid the subject, even though you are the one that brought it up.”

Glimmer shrugged and popped a vegetable into her mouth, regretting her actions as the taste hit her but thankful that she didn’t have to answer.

Her mother pursed her lips, “I don’t like you closing everything up from me but-“

The doorbell drilled from across the room and Glimmer jumped up, practically running away from the table, “Pizza’s here!”

She walked back into the room a minute later and set the box down with an exaggerated flourish. She let the performance drop with a grimace when she noticed the defeated look on her mother’s face.

She didn’t try to hide the sigh that escaped her, “What’s wrong, Mom?”

“I don’t know,” Angella shook her head, “I just feel like we haven’t been, I don’t know, connecting lately.”

Maybe that’s because you’re never home. Glimmer bit her tongue, immediately feeling guilty for the words that had very nearly jumped out of her mouth. You know she doesn’t get to choose when her shifts are. You know she works long hours for you. And maybe she would know more if you actually told her anything.

Glimmer reached to open the pizza box and grab a piece, buying time for her to fish for a more appropriate response in her mind. She wished she could just shrug again and brush the whole interrogation off her shoulders. But her mother had a look of soft pleading in her eyes that Glimmer knew was actually veiling steely stubbornness. There was no way she could win this.

She took a bite and chewed it slowly, all while keeping eye contact with her mother. It was a contest of wills at that point and they both knew it. But every possible strategy and escape route Glimmer could construct had twisted itself into a dead end.

“Well, I’m here now so... let’s ‘connect’ I guess,” The words felt weird and awkward as they left her mouth.

Angella leaned forward, grinning triumphantly, “How’s school been going? Have you started any new art projects? Also this girl- what’s so problematic about her?”

The last question caught Glimmer off guard, “I never said she was problematic. What makes you say that?”

Her mother gave a vague, noncommittal twitch to her lips before looking away and grabbing a slice off pizza for herself. Glimmer almost burst out laughing- She’s using my own tactics against me.

After a moment Angella spoke, “There just seems to be more going on; there’s something that’s bothering you right now. Did something happen today?”

Glimmer resolved to shredding the remaining crust in her hands to tiny pieces that she then threw at her plate. There were a thousand things her mother could have been picking up on, all the stray thoughts that bumping on the edges of her mind and dragged her off topic. But there was only one thought that took center stage; Elizabeth and whatever trouble she had no doubt already gotten Glimmer into.

The reminder of Adora’s text still waiting for her in the other room made Glimmer queasy. She felt like Adora was herself perched in the kitchen, patiently waiting for Glimmer to notice her. Glimmer could just see her sitting in the edge of the counter and swinging her legs out, probably looking far too cute than she had any right to given the danger she represented.

It was no wonder that her mother could tell something was up when Glimmer was practically squirming in her seat. Not that Glimmer would admit that. It was too close to the surface; one of those issues that caused her so much more pain because the wave could crest at any moment and the entire crisis would come crashing down her. It was the difference between slowly turning the shower temperature up bit by bit- yes, you might be aware of the damage in the back of your mind but it doesn’t really bother you- and simply thrusting your arm into a boiling pot of water.

Admitting to her discomfort would be admitting to the problem’s existence. She wasn’t ready to do that yet; wasn’t ready to take her arm out of the boiling water. Worst of all, she wasn’t ready to treat the inevitable burns.

The whole situation with Elizabeth was way too delicate to let her mother stomp into the scene. It was a white hot rod that twisted within her and kept her sitting stiffly as it ran the entire length of her torso. But it was like leaving a ticking bomb in the middle of the room and expecting her mom to ignore it.

Glimmer tapped the tongs of her fork against her throughly destroyed crust, occasionally stabbing into it.

Her mother blinked across at her, patient for an answer to the point of obstinance.

Glimmer gave her an awkward scowl, “Yeah, there’s just been some complications.”

Angella opened her mouth, obviously prepared to protest but Glimmer bolted up quickly, filling the room with the sound of her chair screeching against the floor before her mom could fill the space with any other sort of noise.

She grabbed her plate and rushed out of the room before she would have to admit to anything else- or have her body language admit it for her. She let the plate clatter as she hurriedly set it down in the sink and continued down the hall, moving in a straight line to nowhere in particular other than just away. Away from all the reminders. Away from her mother’s eyes that managed to pick her apart with just a glance. Away from those eyes that were too tired and too sad.

It wasn’t until she was half way down the hall that Glimmer realized she had taken her phone with her. She must have impulsively snatched it as she walked out of the kitchen. As much as she wished, it was too late to put it back.

Glimmer paused momentarily and stared down at the small device in her hand. It’s just a phone. It can’t actually hurt you. Even if Adora’s message is, you know, crushing and life ruining, it’s not like she can REALLY do anything to you. The voice of reason sounded flimsy and unsure if itself even to Glimmer- and she was the one creating it. Look loser, you’re gonna have to deal with it eventually.

That made more sense.

She stopped stalling and trudged into her room, careful not to slam the door to assure her mom that she wasn’t mad. Glimmer tripped her way over to her bed; her room was still a war zone of craft supplies from the night before.

Even that was a surreal experience. Part of Glimmer was still convinced none of it had ever happened, another part was sure it had occurred years ago. A final piece whispered that Adora taking up space in her room and her voice filling the house was the norm and Glimmer being by herself was the alien situation.

Glimmer flopped backwards onto her bed. She almost wondered if the soft impression Adora had left in the sheets was still there. She almost wondered if they had held onto that hyper-specific scent that Glimmer knew you could only notice if you sat right next to Adora- or if she had her arms wrapped around you. She almost closed her eyes and tried to pretend that Adora was still there and they still had a few hours until the morning and more clay to paint and time was still their’s to play with because they were just a couple of dumb teens trying to live their lives and sometimes that meant abandoning human constructs and dancing to Hozier. She almost did that. Almost. But she didn’t. She hadn’t fallen that far.

She stared up at her ceiling for a second. It was too bright in there with her lights on for the star stickers to glow. Instead they just sat there looking mildly dirty, just some dusty greenish yellow spots above her that could never measure up to the real thing.

Glimmer finally stopped procrastinating and raised her phone above her face so that she couldn’t see that sickly stars anymore- just the still darkened screen of what was surely her doom.

She took one last gulp of air and she tapped in her password. The message icon was bright green, but it might as have been dark indigo because Glimmer felt like she was diving into a bottomless ocean trench as she opened the app. Here goes nothing.

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pooktales · 5 years ago

Text

Dannox Does Dalaran

~45min read

In an alternate universe where Kael'thas is king...

*doom music* The quaint Legerdermain Lounge in Dalaran has an amateur comedy night. Dannox, a raunchy Night Elf druid, decides to do his standup routine. You may recognize Dannox from such things as my ‘My Life for My Prince’ fanfiction series. This post is LGBTQ+ friendly. It is also 18+ and NSFW because of dirty jokes. Enjoy!

...

Center stage at the Legerdermain Lounge in Dalaran. A dark-pearl skinned Night Elf man with deep green hair down to his waist strides up to take the Gnomish microphone device. He smiles well, as if he’s been laughing really hard back stage with the staff already. Charcoal gray t-shirt that looks soft. Light blue, linen slacks. Unless your eyes are playing tricks, there seems to be a shadow, or an outline through the thin fabric, of his bare hip underneath and the start of a muscular thigh. He moves again, and it’s gone. Dannox has spread hands and feet apart, bracing as if he’ll have to fight the strange mic device at first, but then cuts that out quickly since the mic is not a toy. Maybe no one noticed.

His joy is genuine and infectious. It’s hard not to smile along with him.

“Hey, so before I begin—Shit, you’d think I’d be used to a moon-white spotlight in the dark, being a Night Elf, but I’m just not. Can you offensive fuckers turn that off? Okay?” Dannox cackles and squints. He looks at his dark hands, while adjusting the mic up to his height. Dannox is magnetizing in a way. Fun to watch his sly mannerisms, his voice is rich.

A burst of embarrassed laughter in the back, while the Gnome techs actually accede to Dannox’s demand. It’s not a joke, they really are trying to fix the lights for him.

“So. Dalaran. The big D. Well, the other big D. They say if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere. Which… is exactly what life is like with a big dick anyway...

“Sorry if you thought I couldn’t say that word—DICK. But back to my joke. You do one guy, or lady—I’m bi—and word gets around, right? So I make it everywhere.

“Oh, Dalaran. Come on, baby. I just got here and you’re turning me on. I’m lit for a magical city right now, and that is so wrong. Wow, what a weird fetish that would be…

“Seriously, though. This place cracks me up. A fancy, beautiful city. Perfectly designed. A beacon of hope. Holy, in a way. Floating majestically through the air. And plenty of massive, purple, phallic objects poking the sky.

“Hey, don’t get mad at me, I know it’s not really like that—that’s not why those spires are there. They have a real functionality. What got my mind dirty in the first place were all the snooty, Kirin’ Tor, tight arseholes walking up and down the streets… Yum.

Shocked, sort of uncomfortable laughter, but Dannox presses on, “Hey, don’t judge me. You guys been to the Underbelly, yet?” He shakes his head sorrowfully, “Don’t go down there. I mean, did you hear what it’s called? The Underbelly. That’s another low-key sex thing about Dalaran. This place is secretly very dirty, believe me. Underbelly. Do you know what’s under my belly? Well, on most nights. He’s not here right now.” Dannox uses a hand to shade his eyes, pretends to look around the room for someone. Loose laughter escapes from the back. “Sorry, that one was too easy. But yeah, so please don’t go down there. Just a lot of nasty fuckers like myself, flagging themselves to get jumped from behind by some rogue, and trying to wrestle each other—” Dannox starts laughing and cuts himself off, “All… oiled up. Well I was, anyway. Okay, I lied. I’ve been here before. Plenty of times.”

To a woman looking very serious and refusing to laugh in the front row, “Ma’am. Ma’am? I’m going to need you to loosen up tonight, okay? You’re in the hands of a professional tonight. I’m serious. I’m more serious than you are right now about that statement, do you know why? I’m fully trained at this, I was once a very successful stripper, I promise you.” Excited whistles and shouts, “I know smut and I’m proud of that, so tonight you have my express permission to laugh at my nasty jokes.

“But I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, ma’am, really I am. Please forgive me. Do you want a lap dance to make up for it? I’m being serious. Would that help? You don’t?

“Damn, I’m getting old then. Anyone here heard of Commando Dan, from Fel Candy? West side of Kezan? There must be a few Goblins in the house.”

A couple of gravelly cheers.

“Hoo, yeah! That’s me. Look how far I’ve fallen. I still got all my clothes on and people are even laughing.”

The blazing spotlight finally goes out, leaving Dannox in a darker room, offset by easy peach candlelight. Some polite applause for the lights being fixed. Then glasses click gently as people drink, begin to enjoy their food once more.

“Hey, great! I can see again, though you all really can’t see me, cause it’s dark. And your eyes have to adjust. Sucks to be you. Shout out to the other Night Elves in the house. The revolution begins now, by the way. Hail to the night, motherfuckers…”

Throaty laughter, especially from some kal’dorei men in the back.

Dannox looks down and snakes the microphone wire around the stand, to give himself space to move with it, “Anyway, I am definitely grateful for my chance at amateur night here in Dalaran.” He winks, “I intend to take the prize. I’m already a prize, I figured we’d go together.”

He turns a little to his left, sticks a hand in his pants pocket. Also, semi-sheer fabric confirmed. Nice.

“So. A little about me to start, other than my being an exceptional stripper once upon a time. Today? I’m a bum. A handsome bum, but my husband reminds me that still means I’m lazy and bum. I do nothing. This is my first thing that I’m doing, after a hiatus. Stripper in retirement. Never thought you’d see the day, right?” Dannox shrugs, grinning anew, “Actually, I do work hard, just not in the way you’d expect. I’m a trophy husband that got picked up years ago in a seedy strip club, I kid you not… stripping my clothes off in Kezan, which is a beautiful, nearly lawless Goblin Island, at least on the redlight district side. Anything goes on that side. A Blood Elf and a Night Elf can meet up, get it on, and have all kinds of adventures together in broad daylight. Faltheriel and I once had a dirty weekend that turned into… ten years now? And so I got picked up by the man who eventually became—who eventually would become—the Chief Advisor to King Kael’thas Sunstrider.

“The king? Yeah, we live in an alternate universe back home. It’s totally normal though, don’t worry. It’s like living in the suburbs—hardly anyone goes there, it’s nice cause it’s less expensive. We get crime, but it’s weirder suburbs, alt-universe crime. Like… whenever we read about Kael’thas’ new fun addictions and various shortcomings in the news. It was Murlocos Tacos last week. His daughter caught footage of him on the floor eating them while drunk or high, probably both cause it’s Kael’thas, and slurring every single thing he said. It came on all the scrying orbs. That was a rough week for him.”

Some snickers. “Yeah, you guys out here have dead, looted body Kael’thas at the end of a Quel’danas Isle dungeon. But back home, we pretty much have the Hearthstone Kael’thas which is way nicer. And funnier. I thought I’d get up here and do a Hearthstone Kael’thas impression but… yeah, he’d send some people over to kill me. He’s still an evil genius with bloodthirsty Sunfury agents. Also, ‘I’m coming doooown!’

“Haha… So worth it. Best part, when I get assassinated by Sunfury agents soon and I die, I’m totally going to ask my wife and husband to put that exact quote on my tombstone. That’ll really piss Kael off.

“And then, what is he even gonna do? Dig up my body and beat me some more?” Dannox looks down, casually kicks the wire for the mic out of his way, “Actually, I wouldn’t put it past that fel-addicted, demon-fucking motherfucker. He’s into everything.

“Anyway, we’re actually cool, me and Kael’thas. Don’t worry. And I truly like him. Since my husband works for Kael, and I am a druid after all—I heal. I heal a body good… I get to talk to Kael’thas himself sometimes if you can believe it. But it’s all so horrible. He’s a good-looking man and he knows that I’m bi. And I’m an awful person, generally. I guess that’s why Kael and I get along.”

Dannox walks to the other side of the stage, “And then Filthy—that’s my husband, don’t ask… Well, you will ask about my husband’s nickname, but I’m warning you not to, not yet, I’ll tell you later—Filthy is practically like Kael’s family at this point, so I always take my chance to rip on our lovely king. Also, Kael’s Blood Knights. Blood Knights are such easy targets. And mind you, in this alt universe, Azeroth is united, the factions are at peace, sorta. Kind of like how Dalaran lets everybody in, we’re sort of like that. Anyway, so we’re out in Netherstorm again with King Kael’thas, waiting on the Sunfury army to show up. Kael’thas looks right at me and he says, ‘I think I really like having a Night Elf man salute me, for a change.’

“And then I wink, ‘…It’s only natural, Kael’thas.’

“Hoo, boy. Poor Kael’thas. I think he was trying to be community-spirited. But, you know, he just tangled with the wrong Night Elf. Or, exactly the right one. Remember, I do like to get oiled-up first.”

More laughter.

“And then these soldiers of his, they’re taking a really long time to arrive. So one of the Blood Knights that’s already there, she turns to me. Everyone’s curious about the Night Elves, I suppose. Daphne goes… and I guess she didn’t let on yet that I’m unbelievably nasty, by some miracle. That’s what happens when hubby refuses to talk about home at work, I guess.

“Daphne asks me, ‘I heard you were the bane of Malfurion’s existence at one point.’

“I say, ‘Well, only for fifteen to twenty minutes at a time.’

Gasps, shocked laughter.

“See? I can keep it professional if I want to. And it’s fine, that’s another world leader I’m cool with. Malfurion and I go… way back. Right. In the back.

“Hey, no judgment. We all have our reasons for leaving the Emerald Dream. Am I right, fellow druids? Or, getting banned from it by a jealous wife. Hey, I’m calling her out, that wasn’t cool. She should know by now, everyone secretly loves Malfurion.

“Then I decided to have some fun with my husband Filthy—Faltheriel—who was standing right there next to me, turning beet-red, ‘What’s this, Faltheriel? You don’t look well, and your forehead is so warm. Maybe you’re coming down with something. Let’s go get you into bed, make you perfectly comfortable… then see what happens.’

“He didn’t like that. And in front of his employer, too. You see why he calls me a bum. I’m so good at being a trophy husband and jobless, it’s like I think everyone else needs to lose their job. Anyway, Faltheriel left to go do something else. Divorce me or something, I don’t remember what he said that afternoon. It’s not important.

“There was also a nice girl with them, a tall redhead named Tempest. I think she’s a retribution Paladin—Blood Knight, whatever. They all get to talking about old times, and she recalls how my husband used to be a zealot for Kael’thas, because he was. Or is. I’ll put it this way, ‘Kael’thas’ is the opposite of our safe word at home. It’s more Filthy’s trigger. Filthy gets one. One ‘Kael’thas’ every evening, and after that he has to stop. Don’t ask me how he works for the guy. I’m a sleaze, Faltheriel’s a fanboy, I guess. We struggle through this life together in our exciting marriage, putting up with all you muggles.

“I’m not joking with you. In person, Kael’thas is a very handsome man ontop of everything else and Faltheriel’s only mortal. Like I said, we have amazing, alt-universe Hearthstone Kael’thas. It’s a different outfit every hour with that guy. My favorite is nineties Kael’thas. He shows up with slicked-back blonde hair, neon shapes on his t-shirt and a giant cell phone, obsessing about how Arthas stole Jaina Proudmoore from him, and he needs revenge in time for the Dalaran Academy dance.

“Hey, I just remembered, you guys would have been there for all that Arthas in ripped stonewash jeans, shoving Kael’thas into a locker stuff. Beat, ba-beat, ba-ba-ba-beat, gooooo Dalaran!

“Anyway. Wow, I keep going off what I memorized. I need a minute.” Dannox winces laughter and pinches at the bridge of his nose, before calming down. “So. Faltheriel and his crew were all zealots back then, doing bad things for Kael’thas, but Faltheriel can get right in the danger zone till this day, remembering weird Kael’thas facts and lore, though I do love him. Tempest goes, ‘Look, I’m a Blood Knight and Faltheriel’s intense obsession over Kael’thas even makes me uncomfortable. Dannox, are you sure everything is alright?’

“I go, ‘Eh. It’s all about energy, where you direct it. Faltheriel can revv up his cute little engine all day if he wants to, as long as, at the end of that day, I’m the one who directly benefits.’

Daphne, as Tempest is laughing, ‘Uh… what?’

“I say, ‘It’s called husband physics.’

“And it is, it really is! That’s how you manage a marriage with a fanboy. I’ll only worry if Faltheriel comes home cosplaying and threatens that we need to take an emergency family vacay to Blizzcon. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But when your husband likes to dress up as a succubus… you keep an eye on it. He’s going as Drag Queen Azshara next year, by the way. And there’s rumor of an ‘It’s Raining Men’ act to go with it, but Rachel and I are mostly letting Filthy have his alone time with the costume and his music for now. We’re all really excited. Albeit—each in his own way.

“Later that day, with the Blood Knights you know--the Sunfury finally arrive and it’s time for us to get moving, mount up to go someplace. I’m on my nightsaber. They’re staring at my beast. You would… I say to Daphne, ‘Let’s have somebody ride up front, and then the other person can climb on the back. Don’t worry, Faltheriel and I do it all the time where we’re from.’

“This guy Sunthraze goes, ‘In Darnassus? Or do you mean Silvermoon where Faltheriel’s from?’

“I say, ‘Wait, my wife wouldn’t want me to finish that joke.’

“Sometimes, Faltheriel does really get annoyed with me when I make those kinds of jokes with his colleagues. I mean, they are his coworkers after all. I guess that’s unkind in a way. But that’s also okay because my husband and I like to fight. Or, that other thing that begins with the letter ‘F’.

“That one too obvious? I can be subtle as well. I’m a centaur if you don’t think about that too much.”

“Now, please ask yourselves... Why was that not put in as one of the male Night Elf pickup lines? It’s excellent.”

Dannox then kindly leans down to the first row again, “While we’re on the topic, ma’am, I see that you’re smiling now. I knew you would. But I wanted to say, I am very sorry that you didn’t want that lap dance before. These are my emergency tear-away pants, as well. They’re not just awesome fitted slacks. But I need you to know, it’s too late now. Like the Goblins say, ‘If you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it!’ he snaps, pretending to have real attitude.

He straightens up again, as the laughter dies down, “…Well, in my case, a giant cock ring.”

A raucous reaction spreads from the cheap seats. The laughter makes it hard to hear the next part, as the woman begins talking and gesturing up at him, “… Huh? Haha!” Dannox leans halfway to listen to her, then attempts to stop his own laughter, “After the show? Really?! Wow, you’ve come a long way. Alright, I give in. Ladies and gentlemen, please clap for Offended Lady, I’ve got a convert! Welcome to the dark side. But you’ll have to run fast after the lap dance, my wife’s here somewhere. Thanks, Offended Lady, I’m so glad we’re cool now. Come find me on Tumblr later, too. I can’t follow you back, but I promise you won’t regret it.

“Well, back to me and my husband. Sometimes, I have to be reminded that I’ve got one... Oh! So Faltheriel and me arguing and fighting--it’s alright, really…

“I try not to pull on Faltheriel’s hair unless I mean it.

“Actually, when we first met, it was better. When we first met, I told Faltheriel I was a baker. Go on, you can ask me, ‘Why is that?’

“Well, you don’t let strange men glaze your buns, obviously.

“I really love that joke. I tell that one a lot. You know, usually, there’s an upstanding person nearby—not you, ma’am. We already addressed that, like I said, and you kindly booked me tonight from 12-12:07am,” Dannox gives a sly wink and checks his watch, “But usually it’s someone with these excellent manners who warns that I’m a horrible person. Like I didn’t know that already, but it’s their duty to glare up here, gasp all shocked and say that. Do you know what I tell people who act like that? After I tell the joke, ‘You don’t let strange men glaze your buns, obviously.’ Then they say, ‘Dannox, you are a horrible person.’

“I clarify, ‘No… I’m a baker.’

“Very innocent, just like that. Even funnier when, truth is, I do know how to bake. But I only let Faltheriel find that out years later. I waited until after we got engaged before I baked him anything. I was far more serious about the success of that baker joke than our relationship.

“But it’s true, Faltheriel and I like to fight. We always have. Though, mostly, it’s wrestling. Before bedtime. Aaaaand in this corner…” Dannox raises his voice, as if about to call a wrestling match, “they lived happily ever after.

“Also, now that we’ve been married for about a decade, Faltheriel doesn’t always listen to me. Then again, I don’t always face him while we talk… It’s win-win.

“Though, being totally serious now—You know, when I first met Faltheriel, he wasn’t facing me. Do you know how goddam gorgeous you have to be to look like someone’s soul mate from behind?!

“And I’m a good husband to him. I truly am. I make sure that Filthy never falls in the shower, whether he appreciates it or not.

“You know, I once lied to Faltheriel and told him it was still dark outside. He couldn’t get out from under me anyways.

“Another thing, Faltheriel and I don’t always communicate well. Sometimes, we just grunt and slap each other’s thighs a lot.” Dannox, now raising his voice over the laughter, “Is that weird? Maybe other couples don’t do that as much, I don’t know.

“Being married to such a beautiful man is hard. God, it gets so hard. Sorry—was that a low blow? I’ll put it away now. Though it’s been going on for so long, I’ll have to roll it up, first.

“Anyway, sometimes I say this thing to my husband when it’s bedtime and he’s not in the mood. I totally respect him for that, I do… But I say to him, ‘Filthy--’ I guess that’s his pet name when he’s being adorable, or really irritating. Both a fun challenge for me. I realize I keep switching in and out of that, I tell him, ‘Filthy, I don’t mind if you’re too tired. You can sleep, honey. Just lie on your stomach, and loosen up first.’”

Dannox hangs in there, through a mixture of booing and hard laughter, “See? It’s so simple! It is so simple to make a good marriage, you guys. A dirty, dirty marriage with a lovely woman who puts up with us and a man who used to work for the Burning Legion, and who can END you if your jokes ever fail to land.

“I can tell you, if you don’t like these jokes, that’s fine. You’ll be pleased to know that I’ve already suffered enough. It was bombs over Shadowmoon Valley while I honed this joke routine in my house, I promise.

“By the way, don’t try that at home. Don’t try my sense of humor at your beloved home, not unless you enjoy having done to you what my husband used to do to his prisoners-slash-victims. Well, he still does it. But I-I get out sometimes.” Dannox rolls his big shoulder, pretends to twitch, “Like tonight.

“But I do find Faltheriel irresistible, so I admit that I keep trying to get into trouble with him. This one time, Faltheriel was really fussing at me, he really wanted me to leave him alone so he could read. Now I don’t know if I’m extra horny because I’m a big Night Elf compared to him—he’s a Blood Elf, I hope the Kael’thas thing gave that away—or because I’m just, well, totally nasty all the time, so much so, I like to give my husband a nickname that stops him from forgetting that I’m a dirty alpha male in this thing and I own his glorious ass… Told you I’d explain later in the show and that you didn’t want to know… But anyway, one evening while Filthy was downstairs reading and ignoring me like that, I just decided to compromise.

“I say to him, ‘Fine, let’s play a game to pass the time. I’ll be good if you’re good.’ He’s sensible, so he says, ‘Deal. What would you like to play, darling?’ He goes for the checkerboard. Then I said, ‘Faltheriel, this game I have is so fun. This is so easy. I’ll love it. It goes like this. Can you bend over the couch and not move for a half hour?’ He’s a sweetie and too trusting at times, so he actually does it. Then I say, ‘Also, this is one of those games where you can’t say ‘No.’

“I got slapped for that. It’s really bad when another man slaps you to defend his honor. And of course, truth be told… I liked it. Poor Faltheriel.

“Elune above, my Blood Elf husband is cute! He is so yummy. Fun fact, Faltheriel only wanted a sweet little hug last night, but in for a penny, in for a pounding.

“Though, the Cenarion Circle is probably going to come back into our lives, I think, to take Filthy away and try to find him a forever home.

“I mean, a new home with a good mummy and daddy. And walks in the park that don’t involve shagging behind the trees. And no bear-bottom spankings. Horny druid husbands are the worst, I should know.

“On another night, I told Faltheriel my balls were lonely. He brought his over to play.

“Awww, so sweet of him. Also, Faltheriel is really good at sex, but I would never tell him that. I just ask him to keep trying.

“Another thing about us, I almost forgot. When I first met Faltheriel, I got naked fast. He didn’t like it at the beginning, but he loved it in the end.

“And once, I told Faltheriel I was a piñata so that he wouldn’t stop beating me with it.

“And the most sex Faltheriel and I ever had was on the same night our wife had our first child, our twins. She was… SO mad at us.

“You know, when our wife had the twins—they’re fraternal, one Night Elf, one Blood Elf—Faltheriel forgot for a moment and went wild, accused Rachel of cheating. It was then that I reminded my husband that, um… I have sex with our wife too.

“Uh-huh. That’s right. That’s what you get when you jump to conclusions about your good spouse, Faltheriel.

“He’s not here tonight, actually. Faltheriel couldn’t make it. That’s why I’m really ripping on him, I guess. But my wife’s here, I think I said that earlier. Hi Rach, say hi. She’s a knockout, isn’t she? She’s so sweet and so kind, and hopefully, this wonderful Human woman won’t lock me in my cage later…

“And you know another thing, three-way marriages are interesting. They are so interesting. Women change, their appetites grow or something and you adapt in weird ways. Our wife gets so horny at times, it really does take the two of us. Wow, she looks mad at me now. Guess I shouldn’t have said that. But, then again, when she holds out, it’s like the world is coming to an end for us men.

“Just kidding, Faltheriel and I are perfectly fine.

“Sorry hun, it’s true. You shouldn’tve got us that set of matching spoons for the holidays. It’s just too bad. That cheap gift you got was like homo-erotic Kaja-Cola, it gave us ideas.

“I’m an idiot, I apologize. Anyway, this one time… the best stories start that way, have you noticed? So this one time when Rachel wasn’t there, Faltheriel came straight upstairs after work and found me in bed with another woman. God, he’s so adorable… After I put the mirror back and slipped the pink scrunchie from his soft, soft, ponytail, he calmed down and it was an amazing night.

“Seriously, though. My husband Faltheriel is so man-pretty, we only realized our wife had none of her own lingerie like… a week ago? And we’d been together for ten years? Yeah, it’s like that.

“So Faltheriel buys me my own lingerie, for once. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like any of the fuzzy, silky, or bright colored stuff he brought home. Eh, the see-through stuff was okay. The really super-short, see through stuff I was already poking out of, that we could do each other in immediately—that, I liked. Nice guy, but he really wasted his money on me, I tell ya.

“Alright, last joke. It’s June and I know everyone’s hot in here. You’re all ready to finish up and call it a night. So I’ll try and end on a respectable note.

“It isn’t June? Well, I know that, I don’t care. Listen to the joke, goddammit.

“Ahhh, my wonderful husband, Filthy,” to rising, expectant laughter, “Faltheriel ‘Filthy’ Darkweaver has the best ass in the world. It feels like I’m fucking a magical rainbow in there. Was that one too obvious, because it’s Pride Month? Did you know that big, horny, sweaty, well-hung unicorns fuck rainbows? Nice image. Yeah, enjoy your Pride Month.”

Dannox nervously puts the microphone back and waves once, while people scream laughter. “If you liked my set, please tell the very nice Legerdemain Lounge staff. I’d love to come back. Oh, I never said my whole name. I’m Dannox Silvermoon Darkweaver. That’s right. That was my real last name, I was a dream come true when my Blood Elf husband finally found me and saved me. For me, every day is Pride Month because I’m so proud of my family and so happy to be here these days. It wasn’t always like that.

“And Rachel honey, I’m so grateful to you for loving me and letting me be me. I’m coming straight home to you baby… after this one lap dance,” an anxious laugh, as Dannox checks his watch, “Uh. I want to thank you all for a lovely show. Night, everybody.”

More whistles and another round of cheers. Then, the Night Elf man confidently jogs off-stage.

…

Aww, thanks for reading this far if you made it!

Were you in the audience? What do you have to shout out, or ask Dannox after his set? He might respond.

@elendeare

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