#right now I think it's still only tentatively scheduled so it could still change

[deoidesign]

Hello! I just discovered your blog and I immediately became captivated by your webcomic, but I'm unsure where to read all of it. I know it's on Webtoons, but I can see it hasn't been updated for a while, and you still post about it.

Are your physical novels just prints of the webcomic? Are they a continuation? Is the story complete? Thanks in advance!

Hi there!

Glad you found me and are enjoying my comic!

It's only on webtoons, and the story is not complete yet! We're 2/3 of the way through right now. It's currently on hiatus, and it's scheduled to come back in about 2 months!

I'll explain why it's been so long if you're curious, but also for my followers who might also be wondering about it under the cut. Sorry, it's pretty much just me complaining haha

I took a month off I took 2 months to get the books printed I took a month to prepare my next comic and I took 2 months to write the rest of the series (I knew the character arcs I wanted, but not the time periods or mysteries!!!) I've been working on actual episodes since then

I had to take some time off because of some pretty extreme burnout due to the sheer amount of work it was to draw over 800 pages and write 6 complete stories in a year and a half... I was getting sick almost weekly due to the overwork, it was really really bad honestly. I was having to work 60+ hours every week just to keep up...

The nature of the comic itself is also difficult... Each of the arcs is a complete, self contained story which can be read (ideally) without context, and my arcs need to be about 10-13 episodes each... And since I have an exact number of episodes to work with, it's even harder.

It takes a ton of planning and a ton of refinement, and working week to week with no breaks I was forced to put out second or even first drafts, so I just wasn't happy with the work I was doing... And to do that for the rest of the series? I wouldn't be proud of the work I did.

Plus... To be entirely honest, webtoon has treated me quite badly IN MY OPINION... They deprioritized me before I launched (I had to beg for more promotion, I'm not exaggerating), they outright denied me the opportunity to even ask for a raise, I don't make any money on fast pass and they pay me less than my partner makes working at trader joes. My first editor left me completely hanging, my second editor (who I loved) was fired... And they told me I wouldn't get a third season before my first season even finished. So it was just repeatedly completely demoralizing.

I'm sorry it has taken so long, it'll have been 10 months by the time I come back. But I realized... I won't get promotion either way. I won't get more episodes either way. I won't get more money either way. So to finish everything, to make it feel good, to make it something I'm proud of, I chose to take longer to make it better.

I am fully aware I will lose a significant amount of my readership for this and it might genuinely affect my career moving forward. But it's what I had to do! So I'm sticking to my guns on it, and I'm confident long term it'll be worth it. It never could have been this good if I didn't take this much time.

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐢𝐦 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐣𝐫...

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: headcannons pertaining your growing relationship with the trollhunter.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jim lake jr x fem!reader

When you met Jim, it was a normal day of school.

At least, for you it was.

For Jim, he had just been approached by two giant stone creatures telling him that he’s now their protector, and then he was attacked by an evil troll who totally kicked his ass.

But you couldn’t have known that, so it was just a normal school day.

You’d always known he existed, having gone to school with him since Kindergarten. 

But you’d never been friends, that was for sure. 

A few days before you had signed up to be a history tutor, needing some school approved service hours.

And just your luck, you had a session scheduled with Jim Lake Jr.

He was jittery, that was the first thing you realized. His eyes couldn’t stay focused on one thing for longer than two seconds, always jumping to the window.

You had been reaching for your pencil case, which was in your bag under the table. That was when you noticed his bruised up arms. Frozen in place, you also saw a large gash peeking out from his pant leg, just visible on his ankle.

It wasn’t your place to say anything, you knew. You barely knew Jim! But still… was he is trouble?

The thought distracted you, causing you to hit the back of your head on the underside of the table.

Wincing, you raised your head, spying Jim giving you a concerned look. You found yourself giving him a similar, more extreme stare. 

“So… I think we were on the Ottoman Empire in class, right?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t think you could, not without asking. It became too much after an awkward second, and you blurted out the question. “Jim, did somebody hurt you?”

The way his face lost its color sent a shiver down your spine.

He laughed a laugh that was clearly forced—strangled even. “What makes you ask that?”

“Jim… Look at you. You’re all scratched up.”

A thick silence follows your tentative declaration.

“Oh yeah,” he chuckled. “I, uhm, I tried to ride my bike down the side of the canal. It didn’t go so well, as you can see.”

It was a good excuse, you thought, but did you believe it? Not for a second. It took you only a few moments before your eyes narrowed and you scooted your chair closer to his. 

Jim thought you looked murderous the longer he was locked in contact with your eyes. 

“Was it Steve Palchuk? ‘Cause if it was we need to say something. This is beyond bullying, Jim.”

What was he supposed to say? Oh, nah, don’t worry, Y/N. I was just beaten to near death by a stone giant last night. No biggy.

She’d walk him to an asylum herself.

Apparently, Jim took too long to respond, which to you was an response enough. You scoffed to yourself, shoving back in your seat with crossed arms. “I cannot believe that bitch. He won’t get away with this.”

Jim just fiddled with his pencil, eyes on his textbook. He didn’t know much about Y/N L/N, but he knew she was a force to be reckoned with. Ever since elementary school she’d taken charge in city clean ups, protested in cities as far as D.C., made speeches that changed the minds of Arcadia’s city council and their school board.

When she was mad about something, everyone knew, and she wouldn’t be placated till there was a change.

Jim had to hide his smirk behind his palm; he could just imagine Steve receiving the flame that the girl beside him would unleash. 

He had to ask, “What’re you gonna do?”

Your answer was instantaneous. “Talk to him, I think. I know him well enough, us being cousins and all.”

That was a shock for sure.

A day later, Jim was walking into school when he heard the tell tale sound of your voice. He turned the corner, stopping short at the sight before him.

You, at least a head shorter than Steve, had the poor guy gripped by the ear and pulled down to your height. Jim didn’t stick around to listen to what you were saying, seeing the fury all over your face and not wanting either of you to spy him loitering there.

But Jim had to admit, the look of terror on Steve’s face was hilarious.

After that, your tutoring sessions became more and more natural over time. The conversation drifted away from history and toward other things like interests and fun stories. 

Not only that, but the time drew on longer till it wasn’t so much a tutoring session as much as it was just two friends hanging out.

It didn’t take long for Jim to realize he enjoyed spending time with you much more than he wanted to.

Much more than he wanted to.

He thinks he realized how much he actually liked you around a few months before everything went to shit.

Jim offered to walk you home when the session dragged on so long that the moon had risen into the sky.

“You don’t live too far from me, I don’t mind.”

It was as they neared your driveway that he caught sight of Blinky from the corner of his eye, shooting fear straight to his heart. 

The many-eyed troll was rustling in the bushes, tailing him and you. You were oblivious, going on about the pranks you had planned for the upcoming April Fools Day. 

Jim wanted to be listening to you, mostly so he could avoid your schemes, but also because he enjoyed the lightheartedness with which you spoke. It was a nice change from the woe he heard whenever he entered Trollmarket. But he couldn’t give you the focus he wanted with Blinky just seven feet form being spotted.

“Welp,” you sighed. “This is where we part.”

Disappointment was on both of your minds as you smiled at each other. 

He managed to hold it together when, after a moment of hesitation, you lurched forward to wrap him in a hug. Surprised, he glanced up over your shoulder to see Blinky giving him four thumbs ups.

He used one arm to hug you back, and the other to flip the troll off. 

Being the Trollhunter was dangerous for not only Jim and everyone involved. And as the two of you started to hang out without the pretense of you being his tutor, he swore to himself that you would never find out his secret.

But as you grew closer, it became increasingly difficult to hide anything from you. 

You always found his new injuries and scrapes and even once somehow detected his bruised ribs. After a while, you became suspicious, no longer assuming your cousin was behind it. 

You didn’t want to assume anything severe, but you had to worry about his home life. 

You knew his mother—you’d met Dr. Lake when you ended up sitting together to watch Jim in Romeo and Juliet—and you didn’t get the feeling she would ever get… physical with him. The very thought made you shudder.

If not that, then what was it? Jim didn’t seem the street fighter type. It caused you more worry than you’d like to admit.

Over the past few months of knowing Jim Lake Jr., you think you’d be comfortable calling him your best friend. You two spent nearly everyday talking, whether it was between class or on the phone every once in a while. 

And it was obvious to everyone except to you that there was chemistry.

It caused Toby some anguish to say the least. 

Speaking of which, you’d grown closer with Jim’s best friend too, something you hadn’t expected.

Toby was a good friend to you, always taking time out of his day to ask about yours, questioning your every “It was fine” and demanding to know what was so “fine” about it. In return, he offered his own tales of misery, getting a laugh out of you nearly every time. 

You didn’t notice how he physically grimaced whenever you brushed off his attempts at finding out what you thought about ol’ Jimbo.

Moving on from all of that, to you, things were going great! Your grades could be better, but you had better friends than you’d ever had before. Added to your ranks was Claire Nuñez, and over time… well, you had to admit that you were suspicious.

Jim’s crush on Claire had been ever so obvious ever since the fourth grade, but that wasn’t it (Or rather, you hoped that wasn’t it). 

No matter how much you told yourself you were paranoid, you thought the three of them were hiding something. 

It hurt to say the least. You were friends… right? Did friends keep secrets?

This was what you thought as you sat alone during lunch, contemplating the way Jim, Toby, and Claire made some poor excuse about having to go to a chess club meeting.

You knew they weren’t a part of the chess club. You were president of the chess club. How did they not know that? Were they that bad at lying? Or did they not care if you knew how much they actually hated you?

…

You were overthinking. They didn’t hate you. Jim certainly didn’t, you think. He was so kind and caring and thoughtful… your cheeks burned red at the thoughts running across your mind… you shook your head, reasoning that there must be an explanation that didn’t involve thier secret vendetta against you.

You just had to find out what it was.

But as they abandoned you more and more for their secret escapades, and as they ditched you to work on group projects alone, and they generally lied time and time again… you grew tired of the confusion.

Your cousin was starting to warm up to you, something about his brutish personality shifting over the course of that school year. He noticed first how you sat alone at lunch, and then he looked around at his table full of kids… and realized he too was alone—in a mental sense, that is.

So he picked up his tray and bag and trudged over to your table in the corner of the lunchroom. 

The look of shock on your face didn’t fade away till he was sitting there across from you, and you deduced that he probably wasn’t here to tease you.

The conversation was slow at first, even dull, just small talk, but then he caught sight of the comic book tucked under your lunch tray. 

He hesitated, knowing his friends at the other table had made fun of him for liking those sort of things… but you had never done that before. Steve could trust you... probably.

So he asks you about it, and you go into a long winded explanation of it, only for him to interrupt with, “I know what it is… I’ve got the entire set back home.”

You blinked, shocked, and you thought that maybe your cousin Steve wasn’t so terrible after all.

Your friends wanted to ditch you? Fine. You’d make yourself useful and stop being their deadweight. It was somewhat freeing, no matter how much it pained you to sweep past Jim’s sweet smile and ready sandwich (made just how you like it). But it was for the best. You couldn’t stand the way they treated you.

It was only a month after you severed ties with them that you realized how much they’d impacted you.

You no longer found Nougat Nummies that Toby had put in your backpack. You could no longer ask Claire for help with studying. You couldn’t waltz into Jim’s house like you owned the place, hop up onto his counter, and spiel on and on about whatever was on your mind while Jim cooked food around the kitchen.

You might’ve missed that last one more than the other memories.

You might’ve missed Jim more than the others.

And you might’ve liked him a bit too much too.

On Jim’s side, he knew why you’d grown distant. It pained him to keep such a big secret from you, especially when he could see it was hurting you, but what else could he do? Tell you he’s the Trollhunter?

No. Jim would never do that to you. If you knew, then they would find you. You’d wind up hurt. It was bad enough he’d dragged Claire into all this, but you? Jim couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt. 

He didn’t think about how much not having you in his life would hurt.

Maybe a month goes by, and the two of you get back to a steady rhythm without the other. Unbeknownst to you, your old friends were preparing for war.

How could you know? How could you have prepared? Simple. You couldn’t have.

So that’s why, the night of the school dance, instead of going to that stupid party just to stand alone in the corner, you decided you would be getting your answers.

What spurred this sudden quest? You didn’t know. But you needed to know what you did wrong. What had you done to drive Jim away?

So that’s how you ended up on his doorstep at just the wrong moment. 

Before you knocked on the door, you heard crashing and shouting from inside. 

Your heart raced. Were you right about Jim being hurt at home. You decided to raise your voice. “Jim?! Jim, are you in there!”

Inside, Jim heard your yells, and a pang of fear swelled up in him. 

He stood in armor of glowing silver beside his high school principal, who looked nothing like the lanky man everyone knew him as, yet appeared as a green skinned creature with jagged wings. A changeling.

And across from him was an ancient entity, with eyes blank and voidish, and a smirk that sent shivers down the boys spine. Angor Rot.

The fight had gone still at the sound of your pounding fist against the door. Jim didn’t like the sadistic gleam in Angor’s dark eyes. 

“Jim! Open this door! Are you all right?!”

No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

This couldn’t be happening. He’d tried so hard to keep safe, to keep you away from all of this!

He should’ve known better; you weren’t so easily shoved off, and you never knew when to quit.

Angor swept to greet you with Jim hot on his tail, swinging his sword wildly.

He was too late. 

A long story short, you were way in over your head with this one. 

Being the hostage of a centuries old… thing was so not on your bucket list. Yet, here you were, shaking as Angor Rot held a dagger to your neck. His entire being stenched of age, and you had to hold in your gagging lest it push you forth into the blade.

You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t knwo what was happening. But you knew Jim was there. He was right there, wearing his armor from Romeo and Juliet and wielding the same prop sword that didn’t look so prop-like now. 

He was right there, and he was looking at you, and you were looking at him, and you were both terrified.

“Jim,” you whispered, scared that even the slight word would force your skin forth and the knife would slit her neck. “Jim, what’s going on?”

Angor chuckled darkly as he peered down at you. “Ah, that’s right. You have no idea what your friend has been doing in the shadows.”

Your gaze was directed at Jim, your jaw shaky and your eyes wide with confusion. “What–?”

“So, Trollhunter,” Angor seethed. “Shall we risk your flower’s life today?”

You hadn’t been killed, fortunately. It all happened so fast, and all you really remembered was Jim fighting that thing, the changeling happening to be your principal, Dr. Lake in mortal danger, and an underground city of stone creatures.

The same underground city you now sat in, the boy of the hour right beside you. Neither of you had said a word since everything calmed down. It was driving you mad.

You raised your eyes to see Dr. Lake standing nearby, safe now that the battle with Angor was over. Then you swiveled to face Jim, your face screwed up. 

“Jim… who are you?”

He didn’t have much of a choice. You’d seen all you’d seen, hurt and fought alongside him despite never lifting a weapon against anyone in all your life. You deserved the truth.

“I’m the Trollhunter.”

It took nearly an hour for him to explain everything, and when it was all said and done, your jaw was hanging open. You now sat on the step below him, looking up at the boy you now knew was so terribly brave. Everything he’d gone through… it nearly made you forgive him.

You’d known Jim Lake Jr. as one thing for months and months, and now it seemed he was something entirely different. 

He wasn’t a scared kid who needed you to defend him to your ex-jerk of a cousin. He was strong and held himself with a certain dignity and humility that you envied. Yeah, he was awkward and foolish at times—foolish like when he ditched you just to keep you safe, which you supposed was understandable given that night’s events—but you liked him anyway.

You really liked him, despite all the pain and confusion and this fast turn of events. 

He hadn’t changed, you realized as you just stared up at him whilst he awaited what you would say. 

He was Jim, the boy you could have called your best friend had anyone asked, and the boy you had slowly harbored a crush on.

It was this thought process that made you lock eyes with him. You didn’t like secrets, and you hated lying. You sucked in a breath and put everything out in the open for him to see. 

“I like you, Jim.” The words were harder than you thought. “You don’t have to like me too, I just needed to say it. I want to be your friend no matter what, and I guess I can understand why you’d keep this from me. I just… I need you to know you can trust me.”

There. There it was. A confession, an offer, a pledge. It was everything you needed to say. 

And as you forced yourself to keep looking at Jim, you saw his eyes flutter and his jaw hang a bit. You felt slightly nauseous as your words came back to your memory. Had you said something you shouldn’t have?

“You like me?”

It was your time to blink blankly. That was all he got from that? You cracked a grin, not knowing where this was going. “Yeah. I really like you.”

He couldn’t believe it. He thought surely you would hate him, or at the very least never want to see his face again. But you liked him? Even after all that? After all the lies?

You liked him back?

Jim smiled, hand reaching for yours, itching to grab your hand, only for him to pull back at the awkward last second.

You tilted your head, wondering just what you were getting yourself into as you took his hand and gripped it tight.

Trollmarket was in shambles all around. Jim’s mother’s memory was wiped. His principal was a changeling. Enrique was in the Darklands. But you were there, and you were on his side.

Still, he had secrets to keep. Secrets from you, Toby, Claire, Blinky. Everyone. 

So as he dropped your hand with a subtle drop to his smile, he thought back to all that had happened, all that had been lost, and all that could be lost in the future.

“I like you too,” said Jim. You didn’t notice how his eyes filled with pain as he excused himself to deal with some Trollhunter business. 

You didn’t realize that might’ve been the last time you saw him as he turned away and walked off in a hurry.

How could you have known? You were new to this. You had no clue about the bridge or Enrique or Jim’s promise to Claire.

So when you saw Claire and Toby run by with panicked expressions, you were quick to rush after them. You had no clue what was going on, but you’d always been quick on the uptake.

Jim was going someplace he should not be going alone. He was leaving them all behind to go there. He was going to the Darklands.

You had just gotten him back, and now, he was ditching you again. 

Sure, it was meant to be heroic, but you just wanted your best friend to stick around for a little while.

Weeks go by, and you assist in Claire and Toby’s search for a way to save Jim. Eventually you help to free him, somehow managing to survive a short traipse through the Darklands.

It was safe to say you weren’t letting Jim get too out of sight for a time after that, and he wasn’t going to complain.

He never kept anything from you again, admitting it was torture to keep lying to you and keep you at a distance.

Jim often felt so out of touch with the rest of the world, being stuck in the middle of human and troll lives, and it was easy for him to disassociate and just brush everyone off. It was days like those that Jim was glad he had you.

“Jim?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

You’d only sigh, catching the way he kept zoning out, getting lost in his own head. In your opinion, he’d been through too much to be only sixteen. So you took his hand or drew him in for a hug or just slung an arm around him--any of the like would do.

Instantly, his nerves would calm and his attention drawn back to the present. 

“You don’t have to be fine, you know.”

He hadn’t known that, not really. Not until he met you.

Those all around you two would notice a distinct change in Jim’s demeanor, so subtle yet so clear. He was somehow softer, which Toby hadn’t thought possible, and the light in his eyes began to spark up again.

His mother was especially grateful, loving the life you brought back into Jim. Blinky adored your very nature. Draal tolerated your eagerness to train with him. Vendel mused your every demanding question.

It wasn’t long before Jim got nervous; you were now one more person he couldn’t stand losing.

But you never let his thoughts run too wild, somehow always one step ahead of his overthinking, ready to put out every doubt and every fear.

“Hey, listen. You’re stuck with me, Lake. Nothing, especially not Bular or Gunmar or any other creep, is ever going to keep me from getting back to you.”

He wasn’t sure how to express just how much you meant to him, so he settled for a watery grin. “Back at you.”

I love you was just a breath away from being spoken into reality, but neither you nor Jim were eager to shove it out there. The fact was there whether it was spoken or not, and the both fo you were well aware of its presence.

[messedupfan]

Chapter 5

Summary: Reader and Wanda hang out together with some of their friends and get to know each other a bit better.

A/N: So sorry for the late chapter but this thing is almost 7k words and it was very difficult to find a stopping point. Chapter 6 is most likely going to be late as well, hopefully I can get back to my schedule. Thank you all for your patience and for reading. I truly appreciate all of you! Enjoy!

Masterlist | All Chapters | All Stories Taglist

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Spending a week in the woods, camping with Rachel, has been a tradition since she could walk. Jean only participated in the first two. After the divorce you weren't sure you wanted to keep the tradition but Jean made a few good points on why you should continue it. Now, years later, it's the best way that you get to bond with Rachel beyond the distracting devices and all of her shows and music. You do your best to keep up with all of it but she is constantly changing. You encourage it, of course. But it's hard to feel connected with your daughter. Except on these trips. 

You rent the same spot every year. The two of you build the tent together and make it cozy inside. Then you set up the fire pit and she finds the best spots for the chairs. The two of you make food together over the fire. Tell jokes and scary stories. Remain completely unplugged for the entire trip. At night she snuggles close and you cherish the way she holds you tight because you know there will be a day a few years from now when she won't. She'll be upset with you because you'll be upset with her. Things will get tough, as they do with growing up, and you won't get as many hugs as you do now. And she'll continue to grow up and find her own way in life and her snuggles and these camping trips will be nothing but a distant memory. 

Between meals the two of you make up games, talk to each other, and you teach her what you can think of at the moment.  The two of you swim in the lake nearby and have fun splashing each other. A dog runs up to her when she’s eating her food and you already know that she's going to start asking for a dog. Luckily, you're able to convince her that she's still too young for one. 

All too soon, it's Friday morning and the two of you are packing up the campsite. It's sad putting away the fun week but it's what has to be done. Once your truck is packed up, you hit the road and she's finally able to use her phone again. The entire drive home she is blasting her favorite songs and singing at the top of her lungs. Once you're back in town you're reminded of your plans and at a stop light you message Wanda to see if she's still up for drinks. You don't get a reply until you're pulling up to your apartment building. 

Too nervous to check, you unload the car and get Rachel comfortable before you check your messages. I’ll see you at seven? Your shoulders drop from the relief. You call your sister, Kate, and ask if she can babysit for a couple of hours. 

“Oh… does someone finally have a date?” She inquires and it makes you roll your eyes. 

“No, I'm just grabbing drinks with some friends,” you clarify. 

“You’re so boring,” she groans. “Alright, I'll babysit. I don't mind spending some one on one with my favorite niece!”

“She’s your only niece,” you laugh at her enthusiasm. 

“Exactly,” she says. “I’d have other favorite nieces, maybe even nephews, but no. You refuse to make anymore.”

“Gross, you do realize that you're upset with me for not getting laid, right?” The line goes quiet and you wonder if she's even there anymore. “Hello? Kate?”

“I’m here, I just had to go scrub my brain with bleach to remove the last few minutes from my memory.” She says nonchalant, as if that was the most normal thing to do. “Anyway, I'll be there in a few. You better leave me some money for food.”

“Of course, I'll see you in a bit. Thank you so much,” you say your goodbyes and hang up. You walk to Rachel’s room and knock on her door and enter once she says you can. “Hey kiddo, aunt Kate is coming over to watch you for a bit. I have something… I mean I will be… uh, I have to do something.” You cringe at how you’re fumbling telling her that you’re going out. Normally, to avoid this, you would plan to do something on a night you don’t have her. But you only have yourself to blame for this. 

“Okay, have fun,” she says as she scrolls through her phone. 

“Okay,” you almost want to laugh at how easy that was. “Okay,” you repeat yourself. “I’m going to shower so can you let your aunt in if she gets her before I’m out?” 

Rachel nods, “Yeah no prob, now go! You don’t want to smell gross for your date.”

“It’s not a date,” you clarify and Rachel mutters something to herself that you can’t decipher but decide you don’t want to know anyway. “Please don't ever grow up,” you say with a smile and she looks up at you with big eyes like her mother. 

“I have to someday,” she says seriously and it crushes something in you. As a parent, that is possibly the best and worst response to ever hear. “Now go, please,” she says with a small wave of her hand. 

You finally leave her room, closing the door to the point that it's left to a crack. Just to mess with her a little. Then you head to the shower because you haven't had a proper one in several days. Your daughter is right, you do smell pretty gross. When you step out you hear your sister and Rachel laughing at something playing on the television. You finish getting dressed and when you walk out with a smile to greet the two girls they look up at you with horror. 

“What?” You ask as you look at your t-shirt and jeans. Your usual attire. 

“Is that what you're wearing?” Kate asks as she slowly eats the popcorn from the bowl between her and Rachel. 

“Yeah, why? What's wrong with it?” You laugh at their judgmental eyes. 

“Nothing, it's just so… you,” Kate replies with disgust. 

“That’s a bad thing?”

“No,” she pauses as she continues to look you up and down. “It’s just not a good thing.” 

You shake your head with a laugh, “Gee thanks, little sis. But it's nothing to get bent out of shape over. It's just drinks with some friends. I highly doubt Steve or Phil are going to have anything to say about my outfit.” You grab your jacket and put it on despite Kate's commentary about not wearing it. “What? I checked the weather.  It might rain tonight.” 

“I’m sorry, Rach. You’re not going to get another step-mom anytime soon,” Kate says. 

Rachel is hardly paying attention to the conversation anymore so when her aunt speaks to her it takes a moment for her to respond. She shrugs, “It’s okay, Ms. Wanda likes their work uniform. She won’t mind this, I guess. I just thought she deserved better from them.” 

“Oh, she has a name? And she knows Rachel?” Kate says in surprise, happy to be getting the good details now. “This must be serious.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose as you shake your head. “No, it’s not. I’m not dating anyone, Kate. Stop encouraging this kind of behavior.” You say, frustrated from having to repeat yourself constantly. You never liked this kind of teasing. It makes you uncomfortable and feel like you have something to prove. Besides, it's not fair to the other person who can't defend themselves. You grab your wallet, phone, and keys. “I don't have cash on me so I’ll send you the money for dinner. Thank you for watching her.” You say as you get a text from Wanda that she's already at the bar and sends you her location to double check that it's the right one. You send her a thumbs up. “I’ll be right around the corner so if there's any kind of emergency do not hesitate to call. Okay?”

“Of course,” Kate says. She hands Rachel the bowl of popcorn and gets off the couch. She stands in front of you and pulls you in for a hug. “I’m sorry, I know I tease you a lot but… I just want you to be happy.”

You hold your sister for a second and pull away and smile at her. “I am happy, kiddo. You don't need to be in a relationship to find happiness.” 

She pats your check with a fake expression of pity. “Oh, you are so single. It's sad.” 

You shake your head with a hearty laugh. “Whatever, weirdo.” You step away from her and go to join Rachel on the couch to give your daughter a hug. “I love you, nugget. I'll see you in the morning.”

“Morning? You’re going to be out all night?” She asks in surprise. 

“No, sweetheart. You’ll be in bed by the time I come home.” You tell her with a soft laugh. “I’ll be back here tonight and will be making your favorite breakfast in the morning. Don’t worry.” You tap your finger to her nose and she scrunches her face with a giggle. 

“Okay, have fun!” She gives you one last side hug, careful to not spill the bowl of popcorn. 

Finally, you leave the apartment building and walk a few blocks down to your favorite bar. You used to work there when you turned twenty-one and learned many skills that you don’t use anymore unless it’s to try and impress someone you’re interested in. Especially since the owner has a soft spot for some of his former employees and will let you behind the bar to let you do a trick or two. 

Walking inside The Hub you grow nervous because this will be the first time you and Wanda intentionally hang out together. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to talk about. What if there is nothing to talk about? How are you supposed to continue to go to her house and eat her food if she hates you after this? Steve is sitting at the bar talking with Phil. You met Steve when working here, he was the one who trained you in mixology. 

Steve served in the military before you met him here. His usual story is that he only enlisted because he didn’t have a direction at eighteen and needed something to help him make good money early in life. The real story is that he spent the majority of his life training to be in the military. His entire family is in the military, it was all he knew. But once he was actually in battle he realized that life wasn’t for him. When he finished his six year commitment to the Marines, he didn’t renew his contract and hasn’t spoken to his family because of it. To say they didn’t approve would be an understatement.  

“Rogers!” You greet him happily. You do a quick handshake and pull each other into a half hug. “It’s been a while, I’m glad you could make it out.” You sit next to him. 

“I’ve been good, Peggy and I just got a place together,” he says with a grin as he takes a sip from his beer. 

“That’s awesome man,” you congratulate him. 

“Wow, it’s like I don’t exist,” Phil says as he sets a glass down in front of you and pours your favorite drink for you. 

“I was going to get to you,” you laugh at his impatience. “How’s it been, Coulson? The place looks busy. I can’t even find the person I invited out.” You look around to find Wanda and her friend but have no luck from where you’re sitting. 

“Yeah, business has been good,” he says with a frown as he throws his rag over his shoulder. 

“Why does that sound like it's a bad thing for you?” Steve picks up on the bar owner's mood. 

Phil leans on the bar and sighs. “My daughter is home for the summer and she needed a job but no one was willing to hire her so I thought what’s the worst that could happen? Turns out, it’s this.” He points to the crowd of guys that keep looking over at the bar to catch a glimpse of Phil’s daughter and you laugh as you realize that the ratio of males to females is not what you’re used to at this place. 

“Where is she?” Steve asks and you nudge him as you shake your head. “What? I just want to see her. It’s been a while. Geez, I’m in a committed relationship, Y/n.” 

Phil looks at Steve, “No one is seeing my daughter tonight. She isn’t scheduled to come in. I’ve made sure to give her all Friday’s to Sunday’s off.” He says proudly. You point out the room full of customers that don’t know and he laughs. “I’m not going to tell them that. I still need to keep this business afloat.” You nod with a smile as someone comes up from behind him and you recognize her from the photos that Phil has in his office. She is much more mature now than she is in those photos and you can see why she draws in a crowd. You clear your throat to get Phil’s attention and point her out to him. He spins around. “Daisy! I gave you the day off! Why are you here?” 

“Calm down, Grant asked me to cover his shift. Besides, these are the busiest nights and I can make great tips,” she explains as she ties her apron on. Her and Phil have a quiet argument and you and Steve watch in amusement. 

As guys come to crowd the bar you and Steve step away and you are reminded why you’re there in the first place. She is across the room, sitting in a booth in the corner chatting with her friend. Wanda looks up and the two of you make eye contact and you smile as you grab Steve’s attention. A soft blush warms her cheeks and she looks away from you. “There she is,” you tell him. Steve isn’t sure who you’re looking at so he lets you lead the way. You join her and her friend in the round booth. “I’m sorry it took so long to find you. This place isn’t usually this busy. Believe me, I used to make the worst tips here.” 

Wanda laughs, “Okay, I’ll just have to take your word for it.” The two of you stare at each other for a moment. Not sure how to act around each other in this setting. She takes a drink from her cup and points to her friend. “This is my best friend, Carol Danvers. She’s in the Air Force.” You reach your hand across the table to introduce yourself, mentioning that it was an honor to meet her.

“An honor?” Steve scoffs in offense. “I served six years and you never said it was an honor to meet me.” 

“That’s because you’re a nightmare,” you retort. 

“I will have you know, I am a delight,” Steve defends himself. “I’m Steve Rogers by the way.” He offers his hand to Wanda first then Carol. “I know, it's an honor to meet me.” The girls laugh at his joke and you shake your head. 

You turn to Wanda, “I’m sorry about him. Now you can see why I'm in search of some new friends.” 

Wanda nods with her eyebrows raised, “I won't lie, I half expected you to bring Rachel's mom or my brother.” She admits in a laugh. “So, how'd the two of you meet?” 

“Here,” you state as you sip your beverage. “We used to work together here.” You tip your glass to her friend who is engrossed in a conversation with Steve about basic training and sharing war stories. “How did the two of you meet?” 

Wanda looks at Carol and then looks back at you. “We met at a party in high school,” she shrugs. “We didn't go to the same school, we just knew a few of the same people and became friends that way.”

“Oh that's cool. Which high school did you attend?” Wanda tells you about the high school she attended in another state. Then she goes into how she made her way out here. That she got into the university here and that's where she met Vision. How she got into architecture. She talks about how her parents weren’t ever married and that her father moved out here when she was in middle school. Which is part of what influenced her choice in university. Explains how Pietro followed along shortly after and worked under their father to prepare to take over the construction business for him. 

Before she can continue on with her life story, Daisy comes over to the table with a notepad and a few menus. “So my dad is having a bitch fit and now I'm your personal server tonight. Here,” she tosses the menus onto the middle of the table. “I will be back every five minutes. Go.” She walks away and you laugh. 

“The service is wonderful here,” Carol says sarcastically. 

“Oh yeah, definitely employee of the month,” Wanda chimes in and the two women share a look before laughing at each other. Steve makes a funny face to you and you shrug because you have no clue what their inside joke is. Wanda grabs a menu and turns to you. “What would you recommend?” 

“The loaded nachos and that’s it,” Steve cuts into the conversation. 

You nod, “Yeah, that’s the only thing that doesn’t go in the toaster oven.” 

“A toaster oven?” Wanda scoffs at the idea that an establishment would be allowed to get away with such a thing. But you nod, not showing any sign of the information being a joke. “Wow, okay. Loaded nachos then.” 

“My goodness! There you two are!” A woman says as she gets close to the booth. “I have been to three bars looking for you guys. What are we doing here?” She slides in next to you on the booth and she gives you a flirty smile. “Oh, hello,” she winks at you then she leans on the table to talk directly to Wanda. “Now I know why you were ignoring my texts.” She returns her attention to you, “Tell me cutie, are you single?” 

Wanda bursts out laughing at your uncomfortable expression as the strange woman strokes your arm. “Agatha, pump the brakes. This is the friend I told you about.” 

Agatha stops trying to flirt with you and her eyes widen. “Oh! You’re them! Oh, honey why didn’t you say anything,” She swats your shoulder as she lets out a boisterous laugh. Agatha holds her hand out to you, “Agatha Harkness, pleasure to make your acquaintance.” 

You accept her hand and shake it quickly before dropping it. “Nice to meet you as well, I’m Y/n.” 

“Oh honey, I know who you are.” She directs her next words to Wanda. “You told me they were cute but you didn’t say they were hot!” 

You look at Wanda with raised eyebrows and a teasing smirk. “Yeah, explain yourself, Wanda.” 

Wanda opens and closes her mouth as she blushes. She knew she shouldn’t have used any sort of compliment as a descriptor. “I never said Y/n is cute.” She says as she points her finger at Agatha. 

“Right, you didn’t say cute,” Agatha gives her a big wink. 

“If it evens the score, Y/n told me that Wanda is very pretty,” Phil chimes in as he comes over with a tray of drinks. You had told him the kind of drink you wanted Wanda to try when you texted him earlier about being here. He said that he’d have them ready once you lasted more than ten minutes at the table with her. “If you ask me, Y/n is a little smitten.”

You shake your head, “It’s a good thing no one asked you then.” Steve makes an ooh sound, Carol laughs and Wanda appears a little impressed. “Thank you, Phil. I appreciate everything you do.” You rush out with an apologetic smile. 

“You’re lucky I know you,” he says after he clears the tray. “Otherwise I’d pay Steve here to throw you out of here.” 

“Oh please, you wouldn’t have to pay me.” Steve says as he grabs his glass, “I’d gladly do it for free.” 

You nod your head, “Yup, these are the people I call my friends.” 

The two men laugh and Daisy returns to the table. “Know what you want yet?” She asks with her notepad and pen ready. 

“Two orders of loaded nachos please,” Steve says. “And a side order of your number,” he winks. Phil smacks the back of Steve’s head. “Ow! I was joking!”

“Behave, I won’t tell you twice,” Phil says unamused while the rest of you try to not laugh. 

Steve salutes him, and then looks at Daisy. “I’m sorry, we’ll just have the nachos, please.” 

The night continues like that, with humorous bits and teasing. Daisy returns every few minutes to check on the table and you order a couple rounds of shots that you want Wanda to try.  You watch her to see if she likes them and when she makes a comment about how you know good drinks Steve points out that you have a home court advantage. To which Carol suggests a change in venue for an even playing field. You pay for the nachos and some of the drinks as Wanda refuses to let you cover the entire bill. 

As you’re leaving The Hub, Daisy pulls you aside while everyone else walks out. You look at her confused and she writes her phone number on a paper in the notepad. She rips it out and slips it in your pocket with a sultry, “Call me.” You find the gesture to be a little funny but you don’t reject her right there. You figure that you’ll probably never use the number. Out of respect to her father and to her. You thank her and walk out the door to catch up with your group. 

As they’re walking Wanda thinks of something to ask you and turns around only to find you missing from the group. She looks around and sees the interaction between you and Daisy through the window. Her eyes widen when she sees the girl stick her fingers in your front pocket. She feels a pang of jealousy but she isn’t sure that’s exactly what she is feeling. Maybe she was feeling off from all of the alcohol they were mixing. Why would she be jealous of you getting some girl's number? You seemed close with her father, so you could be receiving that number for any reason. And yet, she couldn’t shake the fact that seeing that intimate interaction bothered her. When you appear in front of her asking where the five of you are headed off to next, she has to snap herself out of her head. She shrugs because she was so focused on herself that she wasn’t paying attention to the rest of them.

Steve points to a place a few buildings down that the group of five make agree to and their way over. This place was more of a nightclub and there is a crazy long line to get inside which you were completely fine with. It gave you some time to talk with Wanda while waiting. She asked you a lot of questions this time, to get to learn more about you. All you talk about is how you’re from this city and go into the details of your family. How you didn’t like being a child of a bitter divorce and that you wanted better for your daughter. Then you talk about the different types of jobs you’ve had since you were fifteen. And you reveal how you’re working towards a business degree at the community college because you’ve always wanted to start your own handmade furniture business. Steve hypes up your work when he overhears that part of the conversation. You awkwardly thank him and next thing you know, the five of you are inside the club. 

Once inside, you hate it immediately.  The music is loud making it difficult to hear. It’s hot and the air is thin. It was hard to breathe in anything other than the aroma of alcohol and the smell of other people’s sweat.  The place is full and cramped with sweaty bodies knocking into or grinding on each other which makes it hard to stick together. The flashing and rapidly moving lights are unpleasant and difficult to see through. Wanda grabs the collar of your shirt and roughly pulls you close so that you can hear her, “Can we leave?” 

You nod without hesitation and turn around to tell the rest of them that it’s time to go but Carol, Agatha, and Steve have disappeared in the crowd. Wanda grabs onto your jacket with a tight grip so she doesn’t lose you while you search for the other three. You spot Agatha first, she is grinning as she dances provocatively with some random man. Next you spot Carol smiling at a woman as she leans against the bar. Lastly, you find Steve getting excited about spotting a group of guys he recognizes. It’s as if those three were in this place for longer than a few minutes and made themselves very comfortable in the environment. 

You wrap your arm around Wanda’s waist to pull her close to talk, “I think we’re just going to have to wait outside for them.” Wanda nods and agrees telling you that she just wants to get out. You guide her through the many bodies that are colliding together as they dance to the booming music until the two of you are finally outside. “Oh my goodness I never thought I was going to breathe fresh air again!” You exaggerate once you’re free. 

Wanda laughs, “Oh man I had no idea that’s what those were like! I don’t really see the appeal of a place like that!” 

“We’re not drunk enough to enjoy it,” you shrug. 

“I guess not,” Wanda looks at you. “Were you a person that could handle a club like that?” 

You look back at the building and know that there are photos of you in that place somewhere online so there was no point in lying, it was a part of your life that you’re not proud of but a part no less. You nod, “Before my divorce, no way. I was a full-time parent and spouse. After my divorce however…” you drag out as you’re not sure how else to put it. Wanda nods in understanding but you feel like you still have to explain yourself. “Those first few weeks with no family to come home to were so lonely. I’m sure you know how it is. That quiet and isolation is so suffocating. So, yeah, I lost myself in a place like this.” You think back on that time and your reaction to going into that place back then is very different from how you reacted just now. “It’s been a while though and honestly, I cannot tell you how I did it. I don’t know how they’re doing it now!” 

Wanda laughs in agreement, “I guess it’s fun for some people. A nightmare for others. And an escape for those who need it.” 

“That’s an interesting observation,” you say. “Did you ever do stuff like this before having the boys?”

Wanda makes a face and looks back at the building then back to you, “No,” she drags the word out.“It always seemed like my worst nightmare and well… I was right.” 

You nod, “Yeah, it doesn't seem like your kind of thing. Sorry about that, I probably should have shut this idea down.”

“Don't be, I could have said something, I mean we were waiting in line for like an hour. I was curious and now I'm not.” She says with a shrug. Wanda looks around the street and spots another bar with a calmer setting that also has an outdoor option. “Want to go there?” She points it out and you look it over a bit. If you get a spot close to the railing, Steve and the girls will be able to see the two of you from the club when they exit. 

“Sure,” you offer your elbow for her to take. Wanda accepts it and makes a comment about chivalry and you laugh. The two of you cross the street and enter the establishment. It’s the type of place where you have to wait to be seated. So you tell the hostess two for outside and she grabs a couple menus and leads you to the empty corner table you had spotted from the club. You thank her and pull the chair out for Wanda, she looks at you funny. “What? You’re the one who said chivalry wasn’t dead. I have to continue to keep it alive.” 

“That’s too bad,” she pulls the other chair out, “because now it’s my turn.” She pats the back of the chair, “Have a seat, Y/n.” You look at the gesture and happily accept it. Wanda walks around to claim her seat, “There, now we’re even.” 

“Are we? I wasn’t keeping score,” you open the menu and start to look it over. You have only been here a couple of times and are still relatively unfamiliar with what they carry.

Wanda sits there and stares at you for a moment as read the menu. Not knowing the impact your words had on her. Most of her life has been an ongoing score board. If someone did something nice for her she made certain to do something even nicer, expecting them to do something in return. That’s just how relationships and friendships seemed to happen in her life. It wasn’t until halfway through her marriage with Vision that she realized that behavior wasn’t exclusive to good deeds. The amount of bad things they did to each other until the end of it when Vision won and continues to win… Cracks are starting to break through the rose colored lenses. 

“Can I get you two anything to drink to start?” A handsome waiter with a winning smile asks, breaking Wanda out of her thoughts. You tell him that you’re going to have a glass of water and one of the local IPA’s. “And for the pretty lady?” The man doesn’t hide that he is checking her out and though Wanda is flattered by the attention, she wasn’t comfortable with it being from him. 

“I’ll just have water,” she says shyly. 

“Actually, cancel the IPA, I’ll just have the water,” you change your order. You don’t want to be drinking anymore alcohol if Wanda is stopping. “And I’ll add an order of the grilled bread and good olive oil.” You notice that the waiter isn’t taking his eyes off of Wanda and you notice how she seems to shrink under his gaze. “Would you like another appetizer, honey?” you clear your throat as you ask. Not comfortable with using the term of endearment. Wanda sits up as it sounds foreign from you but she notices that the waiter has finally stopped looking at her. 

“Oh um, yeah, babe, you know what I like,” she tries her best to play along as she looks over the appetizers. “You’re so silly, you know that I like the-the… oh! White truffle garlic bread. That’s what I’ll have. For us,” she reaches across the table for your hand, “to share.” You bite your lips to keep from laughing as you nod and throw in a wink. 

“Will that be all for now?” The man’s flirty demeanor has changed to a more professional one and you know that although the both of you are horrible at pretending, you’ve been able to pull it off. 

“Yes, that’s all for now, thank you,” you say politely. He walks away and once he’s gone, you can’t help but laugh a little. “Oh I think we hurt his feelings.” 

Wanda smiles and hums, “That’s what he gets for being creepy.” She removes her hand from yours. “Thank you for that, by the way.” 

You wave her gratitude off, “It’s nothing. He should be focused on his job and not making his customers uncomfortable.” 

Wanda crosses her arms and leans on the table, “Did you ever pick anyone up when you were a bartender?” 

You laugh and shake your head, “No, I was still married when I started the job and then I was enjoying being out of a relationship when the divorce happened. I got to learn a lot about myself in that time.” 

“Have you dated since your divorce?” 

“I have been on a few dates. But I haven’t committed to a relationship since Jean,” you admit. “And it’s not because I still have feelings for her. Things between us ended for a reason and we’re still friends. That’s what we were always meant to be. But I haven’t met someone that I could introduce to her.” 

Wanda makes a face, “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, when she started dating, she kind of made up a system to weed out the people she wasn’t sure if they would work out or not. If she didn’t think she could introduce them to me without a doubt that I would be comfortable with them being around Rachel, then she wouldn’t pursue it. Now she’s happily married to the woman of her dreams,” you elaborate. 

“Huh,” Wanda says. The waiter returns with a pitcher of water to fill two glasses and the two plates of appetizers. When he disappears she continues the conversation. “I’ll probably be single forever then,” she says before she drinks her water. 

You laugh as you chew on the bread, “Oh yeah, that system is not designed for people like Vision.” 

Wanda shakes her head, “Nope. I’m sure he already has a file of every bad thing you’ve ever done prepared for drop off on Sunday.” 

“Oh gosh, so you’re saying I shouldn’t have accepted that follow request from hotgurl69?” You say with a smirk. 

Wanda stops chewing and stares at you with uncertainty, “You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not,” you grin as you pull out your phone to show her the obviously fake account that followed you during the week. It had a couple of posts of an objectively attractive woman but not someone that is your type. You hand it to Wanda and she shakes her head in disbelief as she looks it over. “I didn’t actually allow the account to follow me but oh that was something to see when I got back.” 

“He is a nutjob,” Wanda says under her breath. She blocks the account just for her sanity. “I am so sorry about that,” she returns your phone to you. “That’s ridiculous, he is such a child.” 

“There you guys are!” Carol says with a girl under her arm. “These are my friends. That’s Wanda and that’s… Wait. What’s your name again?” She points to you and you smile as you introduce yourself to the girl. 

“Hi, I’m Maria Rambeau,” she says with a grin. “It’s nice to meet you guys!” 

“Likewise,” Wanda smiles. 

“We’re about to head out, I just thought I’d tell you so you didn’t assume the worst. Also, Agatha went home with some Ralph guy. I don’t know. But have fun,” Carol waves as she walks away fast so that Wanda can’t convince her to stay. You and Wanda laugh as the group has gone their separate ways for the night. 

You look at your phone to send a message, “I should probably check on Steve and oh! His girlfriend had an emergency and he went home.” You close the phone and put it in your pocket. “I guess it’s just you and me, that is unless you’re ready to go home.” 

Wanda looks at the half eaten bread on the table, then to the busy street full of people walking by and businesses that are alive, and then at you. Smiling at her with kind eyes that make her feel special. Eyes that make her nervous in the best possible ways. “No, I’m okay to stay a little longer,” is what she wants to say. But she isn’t sure what would happen if she did stay. How would the night end with just the two of you past this point? Would the two of you go on a stroll and continue to talk? Will there be a moment where the two of you get swept up by some romantic setting and she does something stupid like kiss you? She doesn’t want to risk this growing friendship for something so silly. Besides, you and her brother will be at her house tomorrow fixing her wall. She has already looked foolish in front of you plenty of times in the few weeks that you’ve known each other. She doesn’t need to add to that list tonight. 

“Actually, I am a bit tired. Knowing Pietro, I’ll be waking up at six in the morning to let him in,” Wanda explains. “This was really nice, thank you for inviting me out. I haven’t had the courage to do something like this in a while. We should do it again sometime.”

“Yeah, and hopefully something that keeps everyone interested and engaged,” you reply. “I’ll cover the bill, we don’t want to give prince charming over there any reason to make some move on you because I can’t pay for your meal,” you say as you pull out your card.

“Ah well, it’s only appetizers,” she remarks. “If I were him, I’d probably say something about the lack of a three course meal.” 

“Oh, no worries,” you say as you wave the waiter over. “I’m two steps ahead of you.” The waiter approaches and you ask for the bill. He makes a face stating that you’ve only ordered appetizers. “Yeah, we got a call from the sitter,” you start and glance at Wanda to see her start to smile. “Six kids is a lot to handle for one person. We rarely ever get to have an uninterrupted evening like this,” you lie easily and Wanda tries to hide her amusement. 

“Yeah,” she adds with a disappointed sigh, “And can you believe we’re expecting seven and eight?” She reaches across the table again for your hand and squeezes it with excitement. 

The waiter's eyes widen, “Wow uh, congratulations! You could never tell. Since this was a celebration, you know what, the meal is on the house.” You are surprised and insist on paying but he clears the table and allows you and Wanda to leave without paying. 

The two of you walk to the end of the street where you’re headed in opposite directions. “My apartment is that way,” you point to the building you’ve called home for the past year and a half. Wanda nods as she makes a comment about the building looking nice. Then she turns and points to the parking garage where she parked her car. “I will see you tomorrow then,” you say awkwardly, not really sure how to end the night. 

“Tomorrow,” she repeats, “Goodnight, Y/n.” Wanda walks away and you head home after bidding her a goodnight as well.

When you walk in, the place is quiet other than the soft volume of the television that Kate is watching. “So? How’d it go?” she asks in a whisper. 

You shrug as you remove your jacket, “It was fun. Her friends ended up finding people to go home with and Steve had to head back to Peggy. Wanda and I got to spend some time alone and it was nice. Plus, do you remember Daisy? Phil’s daughter?” You are sitting next to your sister on the couch now. Kate nods as the name rings a bell. “Well she’s home from school and she gave me her number.” 

“Oh, she has had a crush on you forever,” Kate admits. 

You make a face, “Really?” You don’t want to believe your sister, especially not since she is constantly making comments on your lack of a love life. But it does explain why she made the move on you when you hadn’t shown any interest in her all night. “Oh well, I’m not going to call her anyway.” 

“Why not? Things go well with Wanda?” She tries to see if you’ll admit that there is anything more than friendship between you and Wanda and you roll your eyes at her attempt.

“You’re insufferable, you know?” Kate shrugs and asks again why you’re not going to use Daisy’s number. “One, it’s none of your business and two she’s Phil’s daughter. That’s weird, I consider him a friend. I can’t just date his little girl without him knowing. Then I can’t end things with her if he does. It’s way too complicated.” 

“Is it? Or are you making it complicated?” Kate challenges and not having the energy to even try to argue with her, you get off the couch. 

“I’m going to bed. You know how to use the pull out,” you walk to your room. “Goodnight,” you call out to her behind you.

Chapter 6

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @evenbeingcrazy1998 @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @notbornbutforged @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52 @sisiwritesfanfics @lizziesplant @fuzzyuniversityeclipsefriend @arcturusseer @scarlettwidow34 @chasethemoon @raven-ss @canyonyodeler

[angstea]

fingers covered in thorns

Fandom: Doctor Who

Series: Auctober 2024

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Summary: Sometimes the Doctor felt like the words "Don't touch me" had lost all meaning

AN: Title is from 10 Feet Tall by Cavetown

The Doctor is autistic

Written for Auctober Day 10: Self Advocacy

Read on AO3

The Doctor was not a touchy person. At least, not this time. That first time Clara had wrapped him in her arms, he'd wanted to squirm away and scratch his skin until the feeling of contact went away.

But Clara still insisted on hugs. He had tried politely informing her that he wasn't fond of them that first time but the message didn't seem to get across no matter how many times he tried.

"I don't think I'm a hugging person now."

"It's just a way to hide your face."

"No! Not the hugging, I'm against the hugging!"

And nothing changed.

-

"Don't touch me!" The Doctor's yell echoed around the console room. Yaz snatched her hand back.

She watched the Doctor, hunched over the console with tense shoulders. It was a difficult day. Not everyone had made it out in one piece today and the Doctor had been quiet. Yaz had reached out, a hand landing lightly on the Doctor's shoulder only to immediately be met with venom.

"Doctor?" Yaz asked tentatively.

"Don't." was all the Doctor said in response.

"Doctor, are you okay?"

There was no reply, just silence.

"I'll take that as a no."

The Doctor gritted her teeth and glared at nothing in particular.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong."

"You're lying to me."

The Doctor gave her an incredulous look before turning on her heel and stalking off towards the corridors.

"Doctor, come back!" Yaz called after her, beginning to follow.

The Doctor whipped around to face her, teeth bared.

"I need to be alone right now. Is that okay with you?" her tone was cold and harsh.

"I just want to help."

"I don't need your help!" the words reverberated off the walls.

The Doctor's expression shifted from anger. A slight frown, furrowed brows, a look of remorse in her eyes.

"Sorry. Sorry. Just- just leave me alone for a bit, yeah?"

And she disappeared before Yaz could answer.

-

The Doctor was quiet. Unusually quiet.

He wasn't responding to questions, just staring blankly with those unreadable eyes. Donna had tried reaching out but he would scurry off to another room the minute someone asked what was wrong.

Everyone in the house just decided to leave him be after that. Not Donna though, she was going to figure out the problem with her spaceman if it killed her.

She couldn't ask him directly. She wouldn't get an answer when he didn't even respond to hello. She just had to wait for the right opportunity.

...

Which ended up being at 1:13am. As much as she forgave the Doctor for his utterly fucked sleep schedule, she still grumbled about it to herself.

The sound of the living room TV had disturbed her and she knew it was the Doctor. It wasn't uncommon to find him passed out on the sofa after he'd fallen asleep watching a movie. Donna didn't care as long as he got enough sleep.

She carefully tiptoed along the hall and down the stairs, dodging creaky floorboards as not to disturb the rest of the house.

She gently tapped on the living room door before opening it. Sure enough, there was the Doctor curled into the corner of the sofa, long limbs pulled close and tucked against him.

"Doctor?" she whispered.

The Doctor's head whipped around to look at her.

"Can I join you?"

He nodded ever so slightly. Donna perched herself on the other end of the sofa. He turned his attention back to the TV, currently playing The Lion King. It was a frequently played film in the household, a go-to for difficult days and feelings.

Donna shuffled closer to the Doctor. The Doctor blinked owlishly at her and curled up tighter. Like he was trying to sink further into the cushions.

Donna immediately responded to the change, jumping back to give him space.

"Sorry spaceman."

Silence.

"Do you want me to leave?"

The Doctor frowned deeply. Donna was briefly reminded of Beaker from the Muppets and his perpetually anxious expression.

He shook his head and mumbled. "No touch."

"Okay. No touching, got it."

He just her a grateful smile.

[moonshine-nightlight]

2024 Writing - Plans

similar to last year, i wanted to post a little look forward at my plans for writing this year are. the necessary disclaimer: this is 100% high level, optimistic, ideal situation and subject to change but i still like thinking about it and posting for anyone who's interested. see this post for last years!

so, i like separating things out it mini goals/sections so see below:

Nothing's Wrong with Dale: with DSM self-published under my belt, I'd like to focus on the NWWD publishing journey next! The main obstacles/costs are time and money. Hiring an editor and a cover artist are the pricey-est part of the process but my own edit (first to convert everything from 2nd POV to 3rd POV and then another high-level edit/revise once i've got it in the right POV) will take the most time and needs to be done before i hand it over to an editor. Then after the editor takes their time (and NWWD is much longer than DSM), and finally i need to process all of their edits as well. And i need to do all of this while i do my day job lol.

i've already converted the first 11 chapters to 3rd POV (i hav some IRL friends/betas who only read that version, so if u feel like the tumblr version took a lot of time lol). the timing of being able to publish this year will all end up depending on how quickly i can do all that and kick off the part of the process that depends on outside parties. Even if i manage to self-publish in this year, i don't expect it to come out until lik December and even that's ideal, super best case scenario.

Long Stories: I want to outline both A Perfectly Ordinary Research Position and Shadow Diplomacy and then pick one to be the new long story on here. I do what i call a chapter outline and a scene outline, which is confusing to not!me because the scene = a chapter on here. i should probably rename that process lol. (NWWD was 11 'chapters' and 35 'scenes' for reference).

once i pick a project, i just hope to post as many chapters as i can. Since this will be new, long, and likely just building steam, i actually think it'll be my lower priority after the Short Stories and NWWD publishing, but we'll see. i'd like to start putting that up in June, according to my tentative 2024 schedule.

Short Stories: Since i didn't get as many of these done in 2023 and they've been haunting my brain longer, i want to for sure get some of these shorter stories done. learning from last years overestimation lol, i plan to post 3 short stories: Courtship Confusion, Feral, and finish Free Piano: Haunted, in that order. i'm excited about all these stories and will let me cover 3 different types of pairings (although technically all are Reader) which is fun. All have been outlined and have parts and pieces written. I wish Feral and FPH could both happen in the fall but the timing just doesnt work out so summers gonna b a little spooky lol.

The schedule i worked out makes it so all this will be possible, but also basically has no breaks in sunday postings after my haitus which is beyond optimistic but i lik to start overly confident lol

Hiatus: this is also your reminder that my work has a specific Busy Season which honestly started already (lucky me) and i will b beyond busy Jan-March at a minimum. i hav more projects than ever with my promotion, a lot to learn, and a lot to juggle so minimum 6 day work weeks will be the name of the game - but hopefully all goes well and i'll get a nice bonus i can feed directly to my editors lol

anyway, that's where i'm at right now and I'm looking forward to all the exciting writing and publishing to come in 2024!

Feel free to send in any asks about upcoming/current stories!

Thanks again for all your support in 2023 and Happy New Year!

[bbs-backlog-challenge]

Fin or Bin: Final Fantasy 10-2

This is the last Final Fantasy game on the backlog (and at June 2016, the game that has been on there the longest), and I’m going to miss talking about the series’ nomenclature at the top of every post. This one must surely be the most egregious, being Ten Two, distinct from Twelve; a very rare direct FF sequel to a game which had a satisfying if bittersweet ending and did not in any way need a sequel at all.

This game is bad. I’m not going to pretend otherwise, and that’s not a spoiler for the end of the review- from concept through to execution, no part of this product is good. Two years after the events of the first (or, uh… tenth?) game, Yuna finds proof that a certain someone might still be kicking around, and so becomes a Sphere Hunter to follow that rabbit hole as deep as it will go. For those lacking the context, this is the Final Fantasy equivalent of going around garage sales buying up old VHS tapes to hopefully find someone who taped that lost episode of Doctor Who.

Honestly the whole package feels cheaply made and rushed and really just like it only exists because someone at Squenix realised graphics technology had become powerful enough to believably render girls in bikinis and they needed an excuse to do that. It’s flimsy and naff and feels like a Wish knockoff of the original game, using just enough of the same assets to ape it without directly infringing on the copyright.

Gone is the entirely bespoke Sphere Grid method of levelling characters, replaced with a… completely bog-standard Lv1-100 system that has almost no customisation whatsoever. Rather than strategically choosing the best character to swap into battle in a given moment, all three characters are functionally identical under the Dress Sphere system, which acts like a mid-battle class change. You can put monsters on your team now! I don’t know why. Battles are somehow active and hectic but also a sluggish mess, no longer the tactical style employed in the original title, now favouring a return to the old ATB system with added faff. New girl Paine (who I suspect is only here because they couldn’t convince anyone that Lulu would hop around in a swimsuit) is instructed to use the Power Break ability when her turn comes up, and then… proceeds to stand still for another twenty years charging it up before she can use it, even though it was already her turn.

All of the music has been entirely remade from the ground up, with not a single track carried over from the original. Series composer Nobuo Uematsu was not involved at all here, citing his work on other projects as a conflict in the schedule. Running around familiar locations with music that is somewhat similar but not quite right REALLY adds to the knockoff feel, and I suspect his conflicting schedule was ‘holy smokes I will work on literally anything else so I don’t have to waste my time on this’. The music is honestly awful, technically competent but tonally disastrous, and I hate it.

Fin or Bin:

Despite all its flaws, there is still yet something compelling about the game, and I’m not talking about the bikinis. I have tentatively called Ten my favourite FF game before, and it is just fascinating to watch it be so wholly mutilated- to see the same world done in as many wrong ways as could be imagined. I had to see more, I just had to keep going, and that technically makes this a Fin- but I got as far as seeing the ruins of Zanarkand which since the first title have been turned into a tacky tourist destination, and Yuna remarks how it hurts to see something so beloved and meaningful be turned into cashgrab slop, and the sheer lack of self-awareness on display was injurious. I really wanted to get through to the end just to say I had done so, but I think I’m pulling the ripcord.

(Steam)

[laf-outloud]

https://www.tumblr.com/laf-outloud/727083591202471936

I would just like to say a few things:

I was honestly taken aback by this, because even if they won‘t believe me, why not share the info anyway? Or at least respond to it? If there is nothing to what I say, then it could be quickly invalidated or? Unless the two know exactly that I'm right and are afraid of when it comes out.

Here's the thing anon, there really ISN'T a way to verify. They would have to specifically know people who work at those cons and neither of them are based in that area so it's less likely they have connects over there (obviously still possible, but not as likely as for US cons). And even then, they would only be able to verify it for themselves and would still not be able to offer proof. Granted only one of those two cares about showing receipts... it still isn't something that "could be quickly invalidated"

And look at the line up of the English cons and tell me that you could not have paid Jared‘s fee to run various duo shots!

Now about this, even IF they are going to two separate cons from the same company there could be a few reasons for that which have nothing to do with them avoiding each other. As @laf-outloud already mentioned - it's a smart business decision to get a little distance between them since they are still so tied together publicly even years after SPN has ended. With the way CE cons run it would be impossible to really get the separation there (and they have been exclusive there forever when it comes to US cons) so their only chance to really do that is overseas cons.

But you also have to think about it fiscally. Yes, the cons may be run by the same umbrella company but I also bet they have allotted money for each con and with other big names, they can't afford both at one individual con without having to cancel other big name guests who are a draw. Another thing is the fans spending. If they get both J2 at one con then to cover to extra costs they would probably have to increase the prices of ops and autos. That limits the number of fans who can afford to purchase tickets for both and some would pick between the two, meaning less income for the con and J2 themselves. By splitting them, the fans of each don't have to choose and can spend money on one J and also other guests. Plus, splitting them up means a bigger draw to each con (since we've seen how quickly they can both sell out cons). If they were together at one then all the draw would be there, with the split there is an added draw to both cons.

If I'm lying, why is Creation now releasing the second convention for 2024 with only Jensen as headliner but not with Jared? It can't be the money, because Creation takes the same amount for the tickets as usual. And schedule difficulties during an official strike ? Hardly.

First, just because he isn't added now, doesn't mean he can't be added later. And yes the strike is effecting work, but they might still have tentative schedules in place based on when they think the strikes might end. They are surely going to get right back to work when the strikes are over so he might have some idea about work schedules going forward.

But there are also rumors (unverifiable of course) about CE cons and that J2 signed on again but for less cons. Hypothetically speaking (because I do NOT know any specifics, this is simply me giving an example) if they each signed on for 6 cons for 2024 but CE wants to run 10 then there are going to be cons that have one and not the other, that's just logistics and doesn't necessarily mean anything. I'm sure if they wanted to do more than what they signed on for, CE would be more than happy to accommodate because J2 is their real money maker, but if they really did sign on for less and that rumor is true, then the CE con landscape is going to change quite a bit in 2024. I personally think that if this rumor is true, we are going to see Jared do the amount he signed on for, and Jensen will do those plus additional CE cons. We've seen he doesn't want to let go of SPN and with the spending the Ackles do (10mil mansion anyone?? That clothes budget....) they can't really give up that income.

You make some great points, anon. Thank you for sharing! It would make sense to split the pair up and draw more SPN fans to multiple cons than to have them all gathered at one con.

I would be really interested if your speculation about the Creation schedule were true, mainly because I'd love to see how different a Jensen-only led Creation con would work vs. a Jared-only led con.

[jodilin65]

SUNDAY, MAY 30, 2004 I’m moving my schedule around, finally. I got stuck getting up around 5 PM for a while there, but tonight I got up at 9:30. I should be up for most of the day by the time people start looking at the furniture which should be around Wednesday.

We’re tentatively on for departure on the 11th, so 12 more days!

Due to the increasing heat, we’re making tonight the last night we open windows.

A few days ago we were surprised by the winner of the Madonna laser disc paying up. Finally! So that leaves just the two incense auctions we got stiffed on.

For about a week now, I’ve been winning on Lucky Surf’s slot machine which allows me to play their lotto 3 times a day instead of just once. Once we’re moved, I hope to psych out some money at the online casinos we could never go to in this state. I don’t know if it’ll be all that fun doing it online, though. It just wouldn’t be like the real thing that way, but there are game contests that may be fun. Mah Jong is my favorite game.

I have vibes saying Tom will work in the small town of Bonanza for $10 an hour.

On his way out to the store this morning to get treats for the car races he planned to watch today, he mentioned getting a ticket. I told him could, but that it’d lose. He asked if that was an opinion or a vibe and I told him it was a vibe. He also asked if that meant he shouldn’t bother, but I told him to do what he wanted. So he came home with the ticket and mixed hopes. He wanted me to be wrong, obviously, because he wanted to win, but he also wanted me to be right so that would give him even more hope of me being right when I say the title’s coming Tuesday. As I reminded him, no psychic is perfect, and that the more negative the vibe, the more likely I am to be right. Not winning the ticket may not be sensing we’re going to be killed in a car accident, I told him, but there’s a 90% - 95% chance I’m right when I say it’ll lose and probably an 80% chance the title will come on Tuesday.

SATURDAY, MAY 29, 2004 We changed our swap meet plans yet again and decided to concentrate on the furniture this week, then do the swap meet next Saturday. That way, not only will my schedule be better for it, but we can bring a sign to let people know we’ll be having a moving sale the following day.

I’m going to dread the day I run out of story ideas. Without Tom having introduced me to computers, Mary’s inspiration, and my loving to write, I’d go insane with boredom!

Later…

We can’t get the title till Tuesday and Mary can’t get my book till then as well, because I forgot that Monday’s Memorial Day. This is one of the reasons why we chose not to swap meet it this weekend. We figured there wouldn’t be as many people.

Gina loved the incense and gave Tom the name of a place to rent the dumpster at, as well as someone who may take the green truck and the big spool of wire we’ve got from one of the times they worked on the cursed well. Tom gave her his email address in case she had trouble getting to the store and told her we wouldn’t restock it till we moved.

Although it’s still working, even I noticed the funny sound in the AC when I was outside early this morning. It’s definitely sick, and the newcomers are definitely already cursed. That’s alright, Tom got the RV AC working, so if worse came to worst and it crapped out on us before we left, we have that as well as the window AC.

About a week ago I told Tom I had a feeling that bulbs would start burning out before we left, and sure enough, a bulb blew in each bathroom as well as my office. It’s okay, though, because we need to use up the spare 60-watt bulbs we have. Whatever��s left will just get left here as we’re going to wire our place for 100 watts and not 60s like this place has.

Since media mail rates are so low, we decided to mail books to us that we still think we can sell to free up more space in the truck/RV.

Guess I’m not as afraid of heights as I thought, seeing that I climbed to the top of the RV the other day. It’s higher up than you’d think.

I feel like, in a sense, we finally got to fight back and win as far as the bank’s concerned by selling out to Huey. We may not have put them out in the way they put us out, but still, we fought back and beat them at their own game. And they weren’t finished with us. They wanted to sell this place and leave us with nothing but a 30-day notice.

FRIDAY, MAY 28, 2004 When I’m right, I’m right, and when he’s right, he’s right. And it does look like he was right, assuming these people know what they’re talking about. Every now and then even I check out my junk mail. Well, there was an ad for this site that answers people’s questions pertaining to sex. Surprisingly, there was a guy, who just like Tom, couldn’t cum while his girlfriend could. Only difference is that this guy didn’t seem to like it one bit so that’s why he was asking for answers.

The guy answering the question said it was an unusual question since the roles are usually reversed, and I’m thinking to myself, tell me about it! It was a really awkward situation to be in back when Tom and I were more than friends with me cumming and him almost never doing so. It just felt weird. It was like I was the guy and he was the woman. It later mentioned how 30% of the women can’t cum by penetration alone, and again I wondered why am I only in the norm if it’s in a not-so-good way? Oh well. I don’t expect we’ll ever have sex again anyway.

In response to the cumless guy, sure enough, he mentioned the fear of creating a pregnancy as a possibility, assuming they’re not trying to make a baby or on any form of reliable birth control if they aren’t. Depending on whether or not the guy could get off in other ways besides inside his girlfriend would maybe answer that. Well, Tom certainly never got off other ways. I must admit that the few times he did, it was inside me.

The most shocking thing I read was that a guy really can get off without ejaculating. I remember the few times Tom insisted he came when I didn’t feel any wetness and I was like, no way, dude. Guys can’t fake it, so don’t even try to bullshit me. Well, maybe he wasn’t.

Knowing that most guys don’t want kids, it’s amazing there are so many people in the world. I know some guys either insist on birth control or refrain from cumming inside a woman, but I guess most just don’t care till it’s too late. Guys aren’t very bright creatures, so they don’t stop to think of the possible consequences up front. They just follow their dicks and let accidents happen. So it isn’t that they’re okay with creating kids, but that they don’t stop to think ahead of time that they might be doing just that.

George stopped by to ask Tom about the stakes while I slept, and Tom filled him in on what was going on. I was wondering when people would come to ask about them. Anyway, George said he wanted to buy half the well, which didn’t surprise us. We knew he was always after that well as that’d up his property value significantly. Out here, wells are what either make or break a property.

And yes, the renters are in the process of moving. I wish they’d move like right now. I’m sick of their damn dogs spoiling the nighttime peace when the windows are open. I mean, you got barking everywhere now. There are new dogs barking that moved in in front, and there’s just barking everywhere and in every direction, but the renter’s dogs do account for most of it. It’s okay, though. It’s going to get too hot for opening windows at sunset soon enough and we’re almost out of here.

He said he bought the corral from the renters and was worried it was on this property (now, after all this time?). But as Tom told him, we don’t care. We’re leaving. If he wants in on the well at all, he’s got to take it up with Huey. It’s not ours anymore, thank God!

Hopefully, the furniture won’t take long to sell. Especially with us selling it so cheap and doing what we do best – saving people a ton of money. That and the car are getting listed tomorrow for sure.

THURSDAY, MAY 27, 2004 Tom got the shell put on the truck. It’s not permanently attached. It’d take an hour, but it can be removed if need be.

Even if the title doesn’t come before the weekend (I vibe it’ll come Monday) we can still use the truck for the swap meet. It’ll actually be easier because we won’t have to bother covering and securing things down with a tarp. We can just throw the stuff in the shell and go. We’re not sure if we will go, but just in case, I’m pushing my schedule around as fast as I can to be available for whatever comes up. Then I’ll definitely, definitely remain on days till Oregon. Or at least till we hit the road. Along the way there, there’s no way I’ll be able to sleep at night with the rats squeaking and him snoring, so I’ll probably do most of my sleeping in the daytime, letting the RV’s motor lull me to sleep. He said the RV will be pretty much all mine once we get there and get a tent up. Then he’ll only have to use it for the bathroom and shower. I just can’t wait till we get the septic and the garage/room/bath up! Those are the two initial main hurdles we have to get over, then from there on out, it’ll be smooth sailing. Or at least just a matter of us building more and more as time and money permits. My vibes are now saying he’ll get a job that pays around $10 an hour which would be nice. Originally I had $ 8-an-hour vibes.

So, it’ll just be for the drive up there that I’ll be really put out as far as sleeping and being cramped in goes with no space/privacy. Once we’re there I can throw the plants outside. Or the trees, I should say.

Whenever the trip starts getting to me, though with the RV versus the truck, it shouldn’t be too bad, I’ll think of Mary and the hell she went through when they extradited her. I’ll think of how she had to sit in a seat that I’m sure had no padding, all the while she was cuffed and shackled, and how she had to sleep in a cold, hard jail cell with others at night. That is after she was led there at gunpoint.

As for the furniture - we may not bother putting ads online. Instead, we might sell it all to this new secondhand store that opened in Maricopa. We haven’t decided for sure how we’re going to go about that, but we’ll be deciding soon enough. The 11th is only 15 days away, assuming that’s going to be our departure date.

I was sitting in the dark by the retreat window, letting the cool dry air wash over me as I sipped my chocolate velvet coffee. You don’t get to do that too often in the desert. It’s either too hot or too cold. Anyway, even though I’ve been ready to go now for some time, it was nice, and I enjoyed it because I know I won’t be doing that much longer. The breeze is perfect tonight. If it’s too calm, then it’s the same as having the windows shut which means that the house will simply retain heat. The breeze, however, keeps things flowing comfortably.

We’re also thinking of renting a dumpster for anything we don’t want that doesn’t sell. The big one we rented in Phoenix when he replaced the roof was $250, so I’m sure a smaller one will be around $100 or less. We think it’ll be easier to just dump everything that way rather than make a million trips to the dump. It may also serve as an enticement to people coming to the moving sale we’re going to have soon, too. This is because we’ll tell them that anything that doesn’t go, gets dumped in the dumpster. I think in the end, while we’ll try to get whatever money we can for the furniture, most of the other stuff will be giveaways.

I swear I’d snap my fingers and have it be the 11th tomorrow if I could!

Because it costs more than twice as much for new cartridges as opposed to new printers, we may just get new printers whenever I run out of ink. They come with cartridges and they’re only $30. The only question is what to do with all the printers we’ll accumulate when their cartridges die. No one would bid on them because it’d cost more to ship them than it would for them to get one wherever they live.

I think the renters are away or in the process of moving because their property is emptier than I’ve ever seen it. Their dogs, however, are still back there, only they’re penned up and not loose like they usually are.

I did some research about talking to plants and whether or not it really helps them. Many people think so, but not because they can understand or detect voices. Plants grow better when they have more carbon dioxide. The level of carbon dioxide in ordinary air is quite low, but the air we breathe out has a lot more. If you talk to a plant, you breathe on it, giving it extra carbon dioxide.

If anyone needs a breather, it’s the palm. It is such an incredibly slow-growing tree!

For over a year I had this wart on my calf. I started getting really sick of it, so I put a spell on it, and sure enough, it’s going away! Prayer may be good, but witchcraft is better. At least for me, it is. Now why oh why can’t I make my fat go away? I guess something up there doesn’t want me doing that. I just have to live with it and accept it, even if I don’t like it as I said before.

I was checking online to see if there’s anything new going on with Kate. For some of those I’ve been attracted to, the attraction happened right away, and other times it took time. Well, the more I see her, the more I think the actress, Lauren Stamile, who played Kate in the movie I recently saw, is quite a babe. She doesn’t compare to Kate, but she’s got nice really dark hair and eyes, she’s tall, and she’s got a great body.

Later…

I was stunned to learn that I slept through quite a thunderous boom yesterday. Today, I got up earlier than I wanted to, though nothing woke me up. Although I pumped myself with caffeine towards the end of my day yesterday, I still fell asleep earlier than normal, so that’s why I got up earlier.

The unexplainable foul odors continue to come and go in waves for no apparent reason and from no apparent origin, but I know it’s whatever evil haunts this place. Even Tom’s able to smell it lately. This alone makes me ready enough to move, let alone the huge mortgage we’ll be giving up, the biting ants, the fact that we could be sitting ducks, the booms, dust, openness, heat, hunters, scorpions, giant spiders, dogs, frequent outdoor activity, disgusting water, reverse discrimination, and nasty freeloader memories. The only things I’m going to miss are the palms, cactuses and wildlife, though there’ll be wildlife there to enjoy as well, and I’ll have an indoor palm if my spells keep working. I suppose I’ll also miss the heat when it gets really cold there, and especially when it gets snowy. Tom thinks we’ll probably look forward to snowy days since they won’t be all that common there, but I say he can have them. The only thing I’m going to enjoy during those snowy days is the fact that I won’t have to be out walking or biking through it to run errands or go to appointments. I will be so grateful to be in our toasty house, seeing it from the outside in and not the other way around!

Either way, I’m ready to go and I have been for about a year now. Too much negativity connected to this place. I look out into the living room and I see the black pig and his cronies come to arrest, interrogate and manipulate me. I look into the dining area, I see Scot waiting for me to fill out one of those damn forms.

You know you’re making the right move when as a psychic, you and yours are going to a place you’ve never been before and you’re not the least bit worried, nervous or hesitant. Life may have its ups and downs anywhere, but Oregon will be better. If only because it keeps us from getting burned as much and makes us a little richer, it’ll be better.

The renter’s dogs are stealing what would otherwise be a peaceful night, and they have been around, too. I haven’t seen any people, but their vehicle count doubled. There are like 4 trucks parked back there right now. I really hope we can have at least a year off from neighbors in Oregon! I really do. Especially since I know the loudest, biggest families have to go next to us. I just can’t get neighbors without kids and dogs. It’s like, why can’t we have a single person for neighbors or a couple like us?

WEDNESDAY, MAY 26, 2004 Tom said he saw Shiny the other day. He was surprised. He thought the dogs got him for sure, and so did I.

I finished proofreading Angel Eyes and am mailing off a copy to Mary today. It’s a combination of sci-fi/romantic comedy/drama. I’m only 26 in the story and I don’t just spend time in Arizona, but in Mexico, too. I marry Teddy Bear and we try unsuccessfully to have artificial insemination. She dies in a robbery and then I wander adrift. I end up on the Navajo Indian reservation passed out from the heat. The Indians take me in, then I head back east where friends Rosa and Marilyn live in a duplex. I move in with them. I dump the folks and Larry, then Tammy’s killed in a car crash that leaves me with amnesia, though I remember I was about to dump her too, and some other things. A year later, Janet and James, chosen by God to know Kay’s true origin is that of a celebrity picture I once had that I would communicate with as the psychic that I am, help her find me, along with Melanie, another “picture-person.” Kay and Mel are cops, and when Gwen, my unofficial social worker responds to the ad they’ve placed looking for me, we are reunited, though I bear no memory of the pictures, which are on the wall. Now split as two separate beings, the pictures observe the happenings in the old gym that Kay rents after a breakup with an unstable woman. The story is seen through one of the picture’s eyes. I’m sort of aggressive when Kay and I meet, but Kay tames me as we hit it off and fall in love. When she finally tells me who she is, I don’t believe it at first, but I eventually come to believe it and remember it as well. We legally marry and have artificial insemination which produces twins, a boy and a girl. Then I acquire macular degenerate disease and go blind. After living in the gym for a year, we move out and the building is rented by others over the next 13 years. Then Kay comes to visit a cop who’s renting the building after we’ve had an additional son and an additional set of twins, both girls. Then my picture form is transferred to the backyard of the house we moved into after we left the gym. They see me get it on with Melanie when Kay and the kids are out.

The release vibe I had for Mary for September of ’05 has faded a bit, but this isn’t to say I think she’ll go to prison. Whatever happens, I know she can handle it. She’s a toughie. Not that I’m unhappy with who and what I am, but sometimes I wish I was more like her – optimistic, forgiving – though maybe not too forgiving. I still think that one can get you in trouble. Besides, those I’ve dumped, such as my family, wasn’t because I couldn’t forgive them for the things they’ve done to me, but because I realized I didn’t like them. Then again, I never did. I just didn’t do anything about it till ’97 when I walked away for good.

I think the folks probably believe I’ll one day return. Larry did, after all, even though it took him 9 years or so. I also think that either Tammy, Lisa, or both of them, will try to hunt me down someday to resume a relationship, but as they’ll all see with time, little Jodi ain’t coming back. I have nothing against Lisa or any of my nieces, of course, but for the same reason Larry avoided both Tammy and I for the years that he did, I would avoid Lisa at all costs. She’s just too closely connected to some pretty lousy people and some pretty lousy memories. I could never associate with her with the others being part of the deal as well. Lisa and I were always so much alike, though, that she may go and do the same thing I did, though if she’s going to do this, I don’t think it’ll be anytime soon. She’s young yet.

I do wonder about her, though, and Andy. Are they still as miserable as I’ve always known them to be? Is Lisa lonely and feeling nothing but sadness and rejection just like I did throughout most of my 20s?

Anyway, Mary’s optimism must be rubbing off on me somewhat as I have very good vibes about Oregon if we can just get there once and for all!

MONDAY, MAY 24, 2004 Another prediction comes true. A few days ago Tom mentioned that the truck’s shell should be ready by today, and I said, nope, Wednesday. Well, he called them today and they said they couldn’t do it till then. Meanwhile, that’ll be the day he’ll list the furniture. He wants to do it when he can be available more often.

It said there was 23¢ postage due on the envelope I got today containing a couple of chapters from that religious book Mary’s been sending, but they never charged us for it. I guess it’s either because of all the packages Tom mails or maybe someone stamped it on by accident. Either way, I’ll tell her to go one chapter at a time. Also, not to bother sending anything after the 1st at the latest, since things are looking like they’re going to be on schedule after all. The last week is going to be crazy, though, with us trying to get rid of everything that’s not going with us. If worse came to worst, though, and we just can’t get everything to go, we’ll leave it here or put it on consignment and have them send us a check when it sells. I highly doubt that Huey, unlike the people who bought the Phoenix house, would put up a stink about it. Besides, what could he do with us 1000 miles away? He would simply have his people haul it away. This is quite different than bits of old roofing that individual owners have to deal with clearing away themselves.

I noticed Mary skipped a couple of chapters. Perhaps she felt that the ones she skipped would offend me. Like maybe it was full of anti-gay references. Religious people do tend to be as prejudiced against gays as I am with blacks and Mexicans.

I’m not only not going to miss the dust, but I’m not going to miss the ants and the intense winds either! Today’s the millionth time the hissing winds woke me up. The winds suck because they make outdoor activities hard. In Oregon, we may have rainy days delaying us from building, but we could still be cutting wood in the garage and doing other things. They don’t have such vicious storms there either, I guess. That’s why this particular forest isn’t at risk for forest fires in the way some others are. You don’t have so much thunder and lightning there which is what makes forest fires.

Tom went into Casa Grande for some taillight bulbs, a gas cap, and a few other odds and ends he thought the RV could use.

He’s also going to have someone come out to replace the windshield for $210, saying it’d cost us more than that if we were pulled over just once.

Anyway, just two weeks to go now, assuming we do leave on the 7th!

Later…

Went walking outside a little while ago. It’s so beautiful. When it’s hot, the wind can be as nice as it can be annoying.

We walked down to the big ugly water tank. It had a series of numbers on its side like a measuring cup. The thing can hold 3000 gallons of water. That’s a lot! They’ll need it when the pump breaks in ’06. The tank is made of plastic and I’m surprised it can hold all that water.

I shut the AC off and opened the windows when the sun dropped behind the mountain.

SUNDAY, MAY 23, 2004 Tom’s been sprucing up the trailer. He’s looking very forward to building the house, something he’s always wanted to do.

He says he’s sure we won’t have to worry about it building up like crazy where we’re going because land splitting and people bringing in manufactured homes isn’t a big thing there like it is here. There they don’t want to live so close together and aren’t zoned to do so, and they’re building things like log cabins, domes, etc. This may be so, but I’ll believe the neighbor curse is broken once I see it. Meanwhile, it’s still quite a coincidence that the always-home, huge, loud families with dogs outside barking up a storm all the time just happen to be next to me. Like I said, this has been going on since ’92. I swear the NHA cursed me in so many ways! Just maybe I could sleep with my husband if they hadn’t scarred me like they did, but it’s ok. Tom and I will always love each other even though I’m sure we’ll always be just friends.

The move will be a good test to either further prove or disprove my suspecting he likes to tease me. Or at least think he’s teasing me. This would be by getting it on with me once, making me think it was going to be a regular thing, then never hitting on me again. Sort of like last fall where he made like he was going to get it on with me, then never touched me again.

I’d really rather he just not bother. If he wants to be friends, and I want to be friends, then so be it. Let’s act like friends, let’s live like friends, let’s be friends.

He loves to eat, as he himself admits. Especially ice cream. Yet whenever he’d have a pint, he’d end up sick. So I put a spell on him before yesterday’s ice cream, and for the first time ever, he didn’t get an upset stomach!

SATURDAY, MAY 22, 2004 The RV is now here and Tom’s gone out to get us a treat. Some ice cream. This little thing makes Dennis’ trailer seem like it was a big, new Winnebago, but it’s better than going up in the truck with just a U-Haul.

Dave and Miss Perfect had me worried for a while that they’d set us back by delaying us from getting the RV today because they were a half-hour late. They said they moved signs or that signs were missing, causing them to get lost.

They’re at the casino now, and whether or not they’re going to return here today to get the turntable Tom’s selling them, I don’t know. Either way, he’ll make it a point to stop by there with it one last time before we leave. It’ll also be an opportunity for Ma to offer any money she may offer to help us, but I won’t hold my breath in that department.

The RV rode like a dream, Tom said, so that’s good.

Because Tom’s a poor judge of size, as usual, I saw that there isn’t going to be space for all the plants. One, if not two, will probably have to stay behind, and the rats will have to go up in the tank. Because I’m so sick of the starting-over game, I won’t get new plants in Oregon. I’m only starting over in ways that are necessary.

I don’t think I’m going to even have room for my big exercise ball. Every time I get into a new exercise routine, something comes up to interrupt it. Every time. This worries me at my age and height. I could easily end up in the 140s before there’s room for it. I said I accept the fact that I’ll never lose weight, but I’d really prefer not to gain it either. I don’t have a working metabolism, so I can’t afford to sit around for days, so I guess I’ll jog in place if I have to. Or maybe I’ll deflate the ball, since it’s so big, and just take the 4 days off that it’ll take to get there. Once we’re there, I’ll throw the plants outside and then get back into it.

The rats are probably going to be a nightmare to deal with at times. Tanking the other rats wasn’t such a big deal because those rats weren’t used to running around loose. These spoiled things, though, are total freedom junkies.

Again I was never more grateful to be childless. Trying to do this with a few kids in tow would’ve been a total nightmare. Sterility really is a blessing! I can totally see why so many mothers wish they hadn’t had kids.

I just wish it was March or April so it wouldn’t be so hot. I was hoping to beat the bee swarms too, but nope. I can hear them buzzing in the trees like crazy.

The guy came today with the big black ugly water tank, and 4 pressure tanks since this house already has one. The thing we thought was going to be for setting up a sign-in turned out to be an electrical box of some sort. What was funny was when this dust devil came and carried two of the boxes the tanks came in off onto the empty lot in front. They got blown a good 500’ or so. Anyway, it seems he not only did a good job, from the looks of it, but he didn’t leave trash behind either. Why should he have screwed up or left trash behind, though? He’s not working for us. It’s only those that work for us that have to fuck up and trash us.

All this work, loss and change over this one man’s evil doing! As I said, people just don’t often understand the magnitude of trouble their actions can cause others. As pissed as I am to have to be starting over yet again, and with less than we had in Phoenix, I’m excited. I just hope that once we get settled I’ll have a serene, non-adventurous life for a change, but it’s like something wants to keep things going and keep us constantly on the go! I don’t want to be bored out of my mind with absolutely nothing to do, but I want a solid, stable home to live in for more than just a few years. One that doesn’t include a life of dodging trouble from others and having to put up with neighbor’s music, animals and kids. I know we’re going to get neighbor chaos no matter where we go, though. I might get less in the way of barking dogs, but having been a kid in a cold climate, I know that cold weather doesn’t keep kids indoors at all. I was always out on weekends and after school. Always. I doubt the cold climate will curb car stereos that much either, though they probably won’t have it going for as long as they do here. In other words, when it’s freezing out, the neighbors aren’t going to want to stand and gab with their friends as they get ready to pull out with the stereo going like they do here. Countless times the freeloaders and people across the street in Phoenix would follow their company out to their cars, then they’d put the music on and gab for several minutes before pulling out. It’s like what’s the point of wasting the gas? To deliberately irk your neighbors? Because you’re that desperate for attention?

Anyway, although they could conceivably build within 125’ of the house on the long sides Tom doesn’t think they will. I say 125’ since we’ll be about 100’ from the edge and because they probably have a rule against building within 25’ of the edge there too, but either way, he thinks they’ll want to be closer to the street where there’ll be fewer trees to cut down. We, on the other hand, are willing to weed through the trees to get to the center of the property. So if he’s right, only kids and dogs could get within 100’ of the house when they’re out playing, but we’ll hopefully, hopefully, have fences to keep them off our land.

We’ll probably still get a tent since they’re cheaper and quicker to set up, but instead of building a room with a bath, we just may build a garage that happens to have a bath in it and use that as our room, since we’ll want a garage anyway until we build enough to move into.

Even though we’re looking forward to this, as hectic as it’ll be, and even though we think life will be better for us there, I still have to ask myself why. Why is God having this done to us? And what will he do to us to continue to “keep things going” once the house is done? We’re a few years or more from the answer so I suppose I shouldn’t worry about what the next problem or change will be till then.

Later…

At about 9:00, an hour before Tom’s usual bedtime, we opened a lot of the windows. This cooled the place down quicker and saved us a few hours of having to run the AC. It’s beautiful out there now and down to a comfy temp in here. In fact, come morning it may be chilly in here, so I’ll shut some windows before I crash which will probably be around 2:00.

Tom and I were joking earlier about playing a fun little game on the road like pretending we’re on the run and we’re going to hide out in the forest on a huge mountain! As long as we don’t ever have to run for real, we can play all the games we want.

The more we discussed it, the more we both agreed that starting with a garage would be best. We need one anyway, so why not use that as a room in which to live in addition to the tent and RV? We looked at a do-it-yourself steel shed-like garage that was 10’ wide by 20’ long. We’d cut a tiny corner in back and turn that into a bathroom while we lived in the rest of it. Then, when it came time to move out, we could put up a wall in the middle and have one half be a garage while the other was a workshop or a storage room of some kind. This will all cost around $1600 but would be worth it.

We’re going to get a 1-year permit to live in the RV, and since it doesn’t cost anything to park it on your land, we may not sell it like we thought we would, but use it as a backup instead. We’ve got plenty of time to decide that, though. Whatever the backup ends up to be, that’ll probably be what gets parked in the garage while the truck or whatever we’re using regularly, gets parked outside. I like the idea of a windowless garage because then any potential troublemakers can’t tell if someone’s home or not.

Because we agree we don’t quite need 2100 square feet, we were thinking of maybe making the upper floor smaller. We’d have 4 rooms downstairs, and 2 upstairs with a deck opening off of one of them.

I think we should get a gun for each floor eventually. If I was downstairs and he was outside when an armed intruder happened to come by, I wouldn’t want to have to take the time to run upstairs for a gun, so that would be why I’d want one down there. Why I’d want one upstairs would be for if he were working days when I was asleep when someone broke in that was armed. I wouldn’t want to be boxed in up there with no defense. I’d only go after unarmed people with my fists unless there were too many of them. Either way, I know the odds of animal or people attacks are quite low, but guns would still be nice to have along with mace. Better to be safe than sorry. I just didn’t want to get one here, God forbid the freeloaders should finally fuck with someone who shot them dead, only to end up being the one accused.

FRIDAY, MAY 21, 2004 No one came out to work on the well today or yesterday.

Tom got an email saying Amelia arrived today, so once again, that just goes to show how slow parcel post is.

He picked up a nice portable MP3 player for $35, plus new blank CDs so we could easily transfer my favorite pictures, songs, and programs to the laptop.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 19, 2004 I decided to leave the tall tropical plant behind. I’m going to try to sell it first, but if it doesn’t go, I’ll just leave it. It’s a wee bit tall for the RV. I mean, I’m sure we could make room for it, but since it’s just a plant and not my favorite one, I’d rather leave it behind so we can fit more important stuff in. I just don’t like its skinny stalks all that much because they’re harder to support when the damn thing shifts toward the light.

I slept in till 11:00 this morning, so I doubt I’ll be going with Dave and Miss Perfect to get the RV, but that’s ok. I’m going to be on the road so damn much soon enough and living in such cramped spaces, that as much as I’m eager to get out of here and get our lives started in Oregon, I also want to enjoy being off the road while I can and in spaces where I can reach out an arm and not hit a wall.

I keep telling Tom he’s wasting money because the bulk of the scratch tickets he’s been getting are going to be losers, but he keeps getting them anyway. I reminded him that because of the auctions, we’re going to be compensated with losing tickets with only an occasional few-dollar winner. He says he feels that not buying them will jinx the auctions, but I assured him it wouldn’t. Then I reminded him who the psychic of this household is.

I wonder if I’ll be psychic in Oregon too, though I don’t see why not. I didn’t lose that coming to Arizona, though I’m certainly much more psychic here than I was there. Actually, I didn’t develop quite a bit of it, like the sick/healing abilities, till we came to Maricopa.

Last night I tinkered with the laptop in bed, and oh my God! I never knew they were so heavy. The thing must be 6-8 pounds. It’s going to take some getting used to. Except for the letters and numbers, the other keys are laid out differently because the keyboard’s not as wide as a regular one. It has a touchpad, though a regular mouse can be hooked up to it.

Later…

We made nearly $90 on 3 different auctions earlier. $74 of it was for some old computer stuff that we thought was an insane price to pay. Especially after we paid less than that for a fairly modern laptop. He thought he’d get $25 or $30 for it. This thing’s going to Phoenix too, to a business on Black Canyon Highway. Then there are a few hardcover electronic books going to CA and some Atari magazines/disks going to GA.

We’re still waiting on Maria’s money order they said they’d send, but we think we’ll get it tomorrow.

Miss Perfect called. She said they’d follow Tom back, rather than go home as soon as he gets to the RV, and although he told her she didn’t need to do that, we know Miss Perfect’s always got to do things her way, so what Tom says won’t matter. I guess they want to go to the casino, too.

The well guy came before I got up. I’m surprised he didn’t wake me. He made a little round gravel pit for the water tank, which I assume will be in tomorrow. We also figured out that the little strip of cement is going to be for the 5 pressure tanks that’ll also be brought in at some point. Each house will have its own. How ugly the whole ensemble’s going to be, but we won’t be here to see it for long. It’ll be cool to check every decade or so to see what’s here. By satellite, I mean. The pictures aren’t updated regularly and they aren’t released as soon as they’re shot. If they’re shooting one right now, it could very well be 5-10 years before it’s available on the web. I guess they don’t want people to feel spied on. So, if we want to see what’s here 5 years from now, we could be in for a 15-year wait, but we’ll be around.

He’s doing the same thing with the subject of sex as he did with the kid which is basically saying this and saying that but doing nothing. He’s still saying he’s always wanted to get it on, using me as a cover for his own lack of ability to admit this isn’t true by saying he’s only going by what I say (which hasn’t been much lately), but meanwhile, what he’s doing is absolutely nothing. You can talk and talk and talk, but when you never do anything but talk, that tells me something. I still say actions speak louder than words, but either way, it doesn’t matter what he wants. I don’t want it, so that’s all that matters. I let him have his way with an awful lot of issues during the first part of our marriage and he’s not getting his way with this one. This means that even if he did miraculously wake up horny one day and approach me, the answer’s no.

I was curious and so I asked if it bothered him to know that I wouldn’t care if he got off if we got it on, and instead of answering, he said, “You are who you are.”

I think it’s safe to say that the answer’s yes, it would bother him. Especially if I’m right about him enjoying turning me off by giving me what I don’t want. Well, in the past I didn’t want him not cumming. See, my gut still tells me he used the time I was in jail as a means of getting us off the sex which he could no longer get into anyway because I no longer wanted a kid and therefore, cumming wasn’t important to me anymore. It would only bother me if it bothered him because I wouldn’t have wanted him to be unhappy sexually since I’m not like him, but I think that if not cumming had bothered him, he’d have done something about it. I always believed that, so that’s why his not cumming doesn’t make me feel bad for him in any way. Not as long as he’s ok with it. I think he always may’ve had a low drive, but I think the bulk of it is related to turning me off, and he just couldn’t turn me off anymore. Couldn’t turn me on other than to get me off by going down on me, but he couldn’t literally turn me off. If I’m psychic, and if our gut instinct is reliable enough, then I still don’t see how I could be wrong on this one, but anyway, I’m sure he’ll always say otherwise and that he never was into teasing me and that he always wanted a kid/sex. I’m just glad I don’t! I just want to get moved, be in good health, enjoy the house we build, and stay there forever without others burning us along the way. I’d like to do more shopping, too.

Later…

I can’t believe this fucking post office! It seems the stuff we send is getting just as cursed as the stuff we receive. The guy got the computer stuff he asked about, so that’s good, even if it took forever, but Amelia, who was sent on the 11th, hasn’t been received by her winner yet. I’m hoping she’s just going to be late too, since she was sent by parcel post as well. Parcel post and media mail are always slower than first-class and priority mail.

A truck pulled up on the land in front, 4 Mexicans jumped out, and then they started clearing brush and tossing it onto the flatbed attached to their truck. Why would they be doing that by hand and why when the sun’s setting?

Two of the Mexies wandered further away. The others just drove over to them and once again they’re throwing brush onto the flatbed. If this is what’s going to be moving over there, you bet I’m glad we’re out of here! I just still can’t believe a house never came in over there during our first year here or that the freeloaders have now been out of our lives for over a year.

They’re gone now. That wasn’t long, but it sure was weird. If you’re planning to put a house there, why come and take a few pieces of brush? You need a tractor to clear out space for a house/septic. If it were winter I’d think they were gathering firewood.

TUESDAY, MAY 18, 2004 They came out at some point and staked the individual lots off. It looks like there’ll be 2 lots along the utility road and 3 along Meadow Green.

An hour or so ago, a guy showed up to prep for the big storage tank. The poor sucker’s got to mix individual bags of cement by hand. It’s going to be a long hot day for him! He put up some informational sign, but we can’t see what it says from the house. If they knew better, they’d have it say something like: Call this number every 2-3 years when this damn well breaks.

Anyway, the good of it is that if this guy fucks up, we don’t care because we won’t be affected by it, nor will we lose a dime over it. Just what is it that makes guys, with the exception of a few, so damn stupid anyway? I mean they are just so incredibly dumb! As opposed to women, there’s just no comparison. I guess it must be something in the way their brains develop that makes them such incompetent idiots. A good 90% of them anyway.

Originally he was going to shut our water off for a while, but when I went out to talk to him he told me he’d let us keep using the water as we always have till we leave, then it’ll be transferred over.

As for the unnerving news, another pig cruised by. I know Arizona’s riddled with bacon, but to see two squad cars out here of all places and in such a short time, makes me wonder if the freeloaders are after me again, though Tom insists they aren’t. What happened was a gold pickup came down from Bitter Root and stopped in front of the house. Not directly in front, but too close to it for my comfort. The pig was right behind them. They both stopped a few feet apart from one another and a guy got out of the truck and went to talk to the pig. I think the pig got out to talk to them, but since they were behind a Palo Verde, I couldn’t tell for sure or if they were gesturing towards this place in any way. This was right after I talked to the well guy, so I knew I couldn’t ignore the door if they came knocking, knowing the guy would’ve insisted that I was indeed home since he had just talked to me minutes ago. I probably would’ve ignored it anyway.

So after about 5 minutes of conversation, they took off with the gold pickup heading east and the pig going up Meadow Green and past the renters.

Speaking of the renters, the horse, trailer and loud truck may be gone, but not all the people. When I looked back there I saw 5-6 adults hanging out front talking. I see them drive by in a white van and sometimes a brown car, but they’re quiet. Either way, if the black bitch and her connections aren’t up to any of their old shit, we should be out of here in just 3-4 weeks, so who cares what the renters do, though I’d prefer the loud truck to stay away.

Tom thinks the pig was here regarding the property straight in front of us that people drive over. But they’ve been driving over that for years now, and I don’t think that property’s even been sold yet.

What is the boy next door doing out riding his bike now? Doesn’t he have school?

Anyway, I don’t understand why the pig would be called out about that even if it was bought supposedly by the cock with the pickup. What’s he gonna do? Stand there and wave traffic away for the guy?

Maybe it was connected to the new houses because they weren’t too far from where they were. I wish the damn tree hadn’t been in the way so I could maybe have gotten some idea by watching them just what they were discussing, but hey, if they come and arrest me because some stranger robbed the freeloaders and I’m the convenient one to blame till they know who really did it, I’ll just bail out and be gone. They won’t get me in no courtroom, that’s for sure. Still, the 7th– 12th can’t come fast enough!

The good news is that the laptop arrived yesterday. Not without some glitches, but that’s just our shit luck since the incompetent fuck-ups at the PO have to crush every other package we get. Sometimes you gotta wonder if it’s deliberate! It was missing a small screw that was preventing it from booting up. Although it took him a few hours, my genius husband figured it out. Now he’s loading software up, but it’ll be a few days before I can use it. From what I have seen of it so far, it looks good, though I don’t like the smaller screen. It’ll also take me some time to get used to operating its built-in mouse, but you can hook a regular mouse up to it. It’s got a big drive for a mid to late-90s laptop, and floppy and CD drives, too. Because the batteries only last 2-3 hours before they need recharging, I think I’ll use the adapter as much as I can.

Later…

We took a walk out in the 100º sun and checked out the stakes together. When I first looked at them, they didn’t seem to make sense according to the diagram the guy showed me as to how the property has been split. Well, I guess I just read it wrong, because it’s not going to be 2 properties on the south side and 3 on the north, but rather 2 on the east (one of them where this house is) and 3 on the west along George’s land. You can’t possibly split it the way I thought they were going to because of where this house is positioned. Doing that would put other houses too close to the edge, especially the one on the northeast corner. So they’ll probably create an easement where the utility road is for the house that’ll be on the southwest corner, and then another easement between the two east side properties for the middle west side house, and then the northwest house which will be closest to the renters can just get in via Meadow Green.

The worker left a while ago and we can’t figure out what the hell he’s doing. The sign has no sign, but just a small section of metal mesh. Then he’s got a long skinny box he made framed of wood that’s full of cement. We don’t know what it’s for.

Huey’s not going to be bringing in the other houses like I thought. He’s just going to sell the land. The only one with a house on it will be ours, of course.

Anyway, Tom’s pretty sure that Freon is slowly leaking from the AC and that if we were to stay it would’ve lasted throughout the summer, but not the winter. At least it won’t be our problem! Yeah, but we’ll have enough new ones to be dealing with. Either way, the next people are already cursed. That’s problem number one they’ll have to deal with.

I’m just glad we beat the bank at their own game. I mean, we got it made now since they’re required to give people 30-day notices. Even if they came out right now and said we had to be out in 30 days, it’d be like fine assholes, we’ll be out in less than that.

Not surprisingly, HUD’s blown Tom off and hasn’t responded back to him. Why should they? He’s a white, non-religious guy. That’s alright, though, because in Oregon things are going to be different. We’re not going to be made to suffer on account of other people’s bullshit. No more of the ‘you hit us, we hit back, we pay’ bullshit. We’re fighting back from now on and we’re not going to pay for it, either.

Other than that, life is good. Tom is slowly but surely making progress with the laptop and he took care of insurance for the RV. He’s also gathering prices and places to get the few odds and ends we’ll need for the RV like new roof vents and a gas cap, and we want to replace the windshield, too.

Tom explained more about why the pig came out. He said that if someone drives over a property for years and no one reports it, it becomes legal. Meanwhile, someone probably bought the property which means that the buyer has to go through various steps to do something about it, starting with having a pig verify it.

MONDAY, MAY 17, 2004 We got our first store report. We sold items for an average of $24 with 5 bids each. We have a 79% sell rate and have sold 30 of the 38 auctions we’ve had. Also, 14 store items.

I’m just glad my family can’t get a hold of our store address. They wouldn’t think to look it up, and if they did, they wouldn’t know it was us. As for his family giving them the address, I doubt it. I don’t think they would divulge phone numbers or addresses, just general info. It probably is just at Christmastime too, and I doubt it’s more than a few sentences. I always figured she wrote brief updates on the holiday cards she sends, so this Christmas she’ll write something like: Tom and Jodi are well. Moved to Oregon. Thought they might like it better there with the cooler weather and forest.

Anyway, the reason I’m glad they don’t know about our store is that they’re the type, especially Tammy and Larry, to buy something from us just so they could turn around and leave negative feedback.

I’m now done with Angel Eyes and am proofreading it. I rarely proofread my journals all that thoroughly so they must be riddled with typos. You’d be amazed at just how many errors the reader picks up as opposed to silent proofreading. Especially missing words, words close to what you really meant to type, and words with endings other than what you meant. The journals, though, I just quickly skim those with my eyes, and since I use swears as much as I use the word the, and racial slurs as much as I use the word and, and we’re living in such oh so sensitive times when everyone wants you to have a bleeding heart for others no matter how much they shit on you, I edit it when I send parts to jail. Mary can handle it. It’s the others there I’m cautious with. If Mary was anything like Little Miss Be Like Me (Doe) we’d never have been friends.

Meanwhile, given the off chance that I may sell a book or two, I’m trying to be more correct, so to speak. Not just with spelling, grammar, punctuation, structure and paragraphs, but I’m now using chapters and trying to use the current lingo, though in a decade I’m sure the blacks will find African-American an offensive term. It’s hard to keep up with what they expect to be called. I’m also going to try to add popular subjects, even if I myself may be sick to death of them. What sells is what sells, though, so if they want cows, you can’t give them horses. I just try to find a good balance between writing what I want to write while considering any potential readers as well. I still can’t imagine selling my books, but I’m going to act like I will and not just throw out a pile of words.

SUNDAY, MAY 16, 2004 Just when we thought it was hopeless, we finally managed to nail a decent RV! Tom went and looked at the $3,000 Winnebago, which had its pros and cons. The biggest con was the price. We’re going to be struggling bad enough as it is and we really didn’t want to have to spend that much on the RV if possible. So it was either that or the dumpy one in Glendale that was $2300 but didn’t run as well and just didn’t have as many pros as the Winnebago. Then there was this auction on a 20’ RV that may’ve had its flaws, yet looked beautiful. We didn’t exactly dig the colors when we saw the pictures (not that it matters since it’s just a temporary home), but it was clean and remodeled beautifully. Its only real negative is that the toilet is in the middle of the shower stall so you have to either sit on the toilet or stand right smack next to it when showering. Also, it has a cab AC, but no roof AC, so getting through Death Valley may be rough. It should be cool most of the time once we get to Oregon, though. After all, we’re going to be on a giant mountain in the forest.

So anyway, it was sitting at $1,176 with 8 bids. The highest bidder was a rookie which was good. However, the others had more experience, so I knew I was going to have to put a serious spell on these people. Most people don’t usually bid on such big items unless they know what they’re doing and I knew this. So I concentrated so hard on making them sick once the end came and I made them have to up and puke their guts out so badly that I almost ended up puking myself. It made us win, though. The rookie tried to swoop in on us, but then we beat them out and won the RV for just $1,350! We never thought we’d get anything under $2,000. Tom’s perfect timing and wise thinking really helped along with my spells. It’s not what we’d call a steal of a deal, but definitely something a bit more than suitable. And it still is a pretty good deal, too. I knew I couldn’t make the long-timers simply “forget” to swoop in at the end, so I made them sick instead. They’ll no doubt be forever wondering what came over them and why.

Anyway, it’s a ’75 GMC Midas and is 7’ shorter than Dennis’. Its layout and space aren’t going to be as nice, but at least this thing drives and will be cleaner and remodeled. We’ll still clean it ourselves to get it free of dust and things like that. I don’t want to put my big stuffed dog or my big Chris doll on top of the dust.

The swap meet we had planned for next weekend is going to be delayed a week because this thing is coming from a dealership that liquidates vehicles rather than an individual and is only open till 5 PM during the week. Therefore, Miss Perfect won’t be able to help us until Saturday. This is okay, though, as we have 17 days to pick it up. Anyway, when we get it, we’ll spruce it up as best we can. He thinks that if he just charges the cab AC, it may cool most of the living space. Because of this, I may take Tom’s advice and not worry about my schedule. I won’t even have to worry about it on the way either since I expect all the excitement will cause me to sleep intermittently anyway. I figure I’ll have a hard time sleeping at night with Tom snoring and the rats squeaking and because I’m still mostly nocturnal, but will be lulled to sleep by the engine running in the daytime right along with the rats who are also nocturnal.

We’re not sure if we’re going to run any more auctions while we’re here because we’ll want to have stuff to sell once we get there to help cushion us till he gets work. We’re going to restock the store, too. Instead of $89 + shipping on Samantha, I think we may list her at $99 with free shipping.

Meanwhile, we’ve been stiffed by 3 people so far – the people who won the two incense auctions, and the Madonna disc winner.

Also, the guy who won some computer hardware insists he never got it, so Tom will ask the PO to look it up. Either way, he has a receipt proving he sent it which will clear him with eBay and we won’t have to give the guy a refund. We get delivery confirmations with the more expensive things as we know that sooner or later someone’s going to claim they didn’t get something they really did.

Because the truck has rear-wheel drive, Tom’s either going to disconnect the driveshaft so it can be towed or rent a dolly-like trailer that’ll lift it. It’ll protect the tires this way, too.

Pretty soon we’ll be washing and stripping the car that I vibe we’ll get $200 for even though Tom’s hoping for $350, but hey, $200 is $200 and we can’t take the thing with us.

First we were being teased with the well till we discovered what the real problem was, and now the AC’s teasing us. It comes on and blows warm air. Just when we think it’s not going to start blowing cool air, it does.

So this is basically it. All that’s left to do is sell our stuff, then we’re free to go!

The good thing about the land next to ours being sold is that if they’re planning to build on it, they should’ve already started, in which case we’ll get a different piece of land. I’d really, really like a year or two to ourselves before we get company, and I’d really like to have the fences before their dogs arrive and not afterward. Either way, I just don’t know how eager Tom will be to do the fences as it still seems that he likes to see me wait for things. I don’t know just what the kick is he supposedly gets out of it, but the more desperate I am for something, the more he seems to want to stall me from getting it. I’m also going by this place. We had the money, yet when we did, he didn’t put up the fences he knew I so desperately wanted, though now, in light of the circumstances, I’m glad he didn’t. Still, there were a few instances when we had the money and yet it never got done. Maybe it was just the size of the land that put a damper on his own eagerness.

I tease him, saying he’s going to end up complaining big time about the cold, especially when he wants to work outdoors, saying he’s not used to it. Meanwhile, I’m simply returning to what I grew up with, only there’ll be less rain, snow and humidity. I’ll be glad I won’t have to play bus in the cold and that I can just stay inside, except for when we go out since I know the heater will be broken most of the time because that’s just how most of our stuff ends up. It spends more time being broken than being functional.

We decided that whether we share a room or not, we’re still going to have 2 bedrooms (we most definitely will go with a 2-story dome that’ll total about 1800 square feet) and we might do Murphy beds that pull out of the wall.

We may also go all-laptop and make a closed compartment for things like printers and scanners. That way we won’t see all the ugly equipment and the 10 million wires that go with it, and when we need to print something, we’ll just hook the laptops up to it.

FRIDAY, MAY 14, 2004 The AC has been sounding a bit funny, but we’re keeping our fingers crossed that it’ll hold up for just 24-26 more days. It’s just that we are due for something big to break, so I’m a little nervous about it. If worse came to worst we would either just suffer or throw our old window AC in. We’re certainly not going to spend $300 for less than a month.

We’re not having any luck yet with finding an RV. All the good ones go before we even get the chance to call about them. Either way, living in the damn thing for a year or more is going to be a real bitch. See, this is where I get mad at God and feel he most certainly is out to get us. His letting this happen to us can’t be anything more than a punishment. I’m just sick of starting over. Every time we build ourselves up, people or circumstances kick us down. I’m just so tired of people turning our lives upside down at will. As I’ve asked a million times, how do people come to have such power over us? If they get pissed at one of us, it’s so, so damn easy for them to take away our house, ruin our credit, and basically just turn our lives upside down out of spite. Meanwhile, we could never be that vindictive even if we wanted to be. I don’t think people even realize just how much they’ve affected our lives and put us out. I don’t think anyone could know without being in our shoes. They just go off the deep end in a fit of rage over some bullshit, or lose it over God knows what, and in the heat of the moment, without having a care or a clue as to what havoc their actions are causing, they change life as we knew it. It’s like with the freeloaders. They just wanted to get the Jewish bitch that had the nerve to complain about their antics. Never once did they care to stop and consider what I’d have to go through on account of their vengefulness. Never did they consider what I’d have to go through in jail, nor did they consider the thousands of dollars they caused us to lose. Never once did they consider the stress, the anxiety, the anger, the depression. Never. Same with this cock that fired him. All the warped religious junkie could think of was how terrible it was of Tom to feel there was a time and place for everything and that work wasn’t an appropriate place for crap like that. That’s what churches are for. Meanwhile, did he think of the consequences of his actions? No, of course not. And all the while, God let this happen. And why? How can it be part of the “plan?” A good plan, that is? Is the shit we’ve gone through really going to be made up to us with good things in the end? And if so, how many years will it take for compensation to take effect? You would think that someone who’s home 95% of the time couldn’t possibly have such an adventurous life, but I’m living proof that that’s just not so! If I don’t go to trouble, it comes home here to me. It’s like something wants there to always be action going on in our lives yet I’d rather be bored out of my mind if this is the type of action we have to deal with. And what happens when we’ve dealt with this long-term problem? Will he just send us another long-term one? Of course he will. As soon as one comes to an end, we just go right into another one. It’s like, why lose weight even if I could? I’d only be exchanging it for a new problem. We never even get one lousy year off from shit hitting the fan. Things always have to break, people always have to fuck us over. As it is I’ll be worrying that the freeloaders will follow us there too, and pop back into our lives yet again in a matter of months. Not as much as I’d worry if we were sticking around here, so there’s at least something good to us moving on. Besides, we really do want trees and I’m sick of the unexplained foul odors that seem to suddenly occur out of thin air and for no apparent reason that we can find. I was in the master bath and it was fine. A few minutes later I went back in there and it reeked of burnt rubber. Even Tom could smell it, though he said he wouldn’t exactly describe it as burnt rubber. Evil lives here. That’s all I know.

Who knows? My getting off probation early may’ve saved me from any more freeloader shit. I always had the feeling that right before the probation was originally set to end they’d pull some last-minute stunt to keep things going. Yet with me getting off early, they wouldn’t have had time to do that because they wouldn’t have known it was going to happen until it did. I’m sure they knew it was possible, but just like me, they were probably so sure it wouldn’t happen. I worried that the surprise of my early freedom would get them after me, but so far so good. Less than a month and I’m home free for sure.

I know not everyone would agree with my way of thinking, but hopefully the move won’t be so rough in the midst of all the excitement simply because we’re forced to go, making me hope that that means it’s meant to be. I know nothing made us choose Oregon or the particular piece of land we chose, but still, unlike from the Phoenix house, we’re literally being forced out of here. In Phoenix, we more like ran. And all the while I knew I was going against God’s wishes by moving. I didn’t know why. I didn’t know if it was because he wanted me to stay and put up with their shit or what, but I knew he was angry at us for moving and that we would be punished for it. And so we have, if only in much, much more extreme ways than I ever thought we would be. So, if we’re being forced out of here by either a God or an evil spirit that never wanted us here, then wouldn’t that mean that the move to Oregon was meant to be and that in return things would be better for us there? I know that technically we were even meant to be here since we obviously managed to move here, but would it be acceptable to God is what I wonder, unlike the move here? He totally disapproved of the move here. I just didn’t know why, and perhaps I never will, if it was because he wanted us to stay in Phoenix, or to at least not come here.

Anyway, Tom checked out an RV in Glendale yesterday, but it sucked. Had a broken AC, too.

Then he stopped to see Mom, Dave and Miss Perfect. I’ve been right so far; no money to help us. Not even her famous $20 for gas. He thought they’d help us, but I don’t think they will other than to buy his old turntable. I think that because they’ve helped us a couple of times since we’ve been here and because they don’t like me (though they would never tell us that to our faces), they’re not going to give us anything.

Tom said he was surprised to find they’ve been dumping stuff like crazy. These are people who just like him, never get rid of anything. Tom thinks they simply realized that if they didn’t do something, they’d eventually be buried in junk. I wondered for a minute there if they were prepping to move, but I don’t think so and he agrees. They’d have mentioned it, for one, and they also could’ve moved a long time ago. If they wanted to move, they’d have done so by now. I think they’ll be there all their lives.

Yesterday a couple of women came to take pictures of the house. They only shot the outside because the inside’s cluttered. They said they’d call when they wanted to shoot the inside so we could have time to straighten up first.

Because of all the shit that’s been going on, we indulged in some gambling. We couldn’t afford it, but we really needed the break, even if it was only $40. What sucked was that I didn’t expect the gift shop to open before we left and for me to spot a beautiful $30 figurine there because if I’d known it was to open so early, I’d have gotten it with the $30 or $40 I won, but instead I gambled it back. It was still fun, though. They added an extra room and now have these penny machines. You can definitely play longer on those. We were there for a couple of hours. We played quarter and dollar machines too, but mostly the pennies.

Got a letter from Mary saying to say hi to Tom and that she was glad to hear I was in better spirits. She says she’s doing great. I honestly don’t know how that girl does it. I could never have survived jail for as long as she has. I think that by now I’d have killed either myself or someone else. No, I don’t think that. I know that! One can only take so many threats before they snap. When Tiffy and I got annoyed with each other and I thought she was going to threaten me, I was coiled like a snake ready to strike, but fortunately for both of us, she didn’t. The next person, though, there’ll be no holding back as I couldn’t possibly take one more threat. I guess we all have our breaking points. Threats or no threats, I still don’t see how I could’ve survived jail as long as she has.

Anyway, she sent chapter 3. How many chapters are there, I wonder?

This part about gluttony and smoking had me a bit confused. It seemed disheartening to be told we shouldn’t judge overweight people or smokers, then read that the bible says it deserves the death penalty, not that I particularly believe the bible. Nonetheless, if anyone thinks that’s what I deserve for being 30 pounds overweight, then oh well.

The part I disagreed with the most is where they said not to judge or criticize others so we won’t be judged or criticized. I didn’t know that sick twist of a judge I faced in court to ever have had the chance to judge/criticize him, yet he judged and criticized me just fine.

I was also a bit worried when I read the part that says (and I could be misinterpreting this) that it is God who does the work in us, and it makes sense that the more we trust in him and the less we depend on ourselves, the more he is able to do. It disturbs me because while I don’t want control or power over other people’s lives, I at least want free will over mine. I want to be the one in the driver’s seat of my own life for once. I don’t want God or others turning me into a slave and making me feel like I’m some kind of robot or puppet with no mind of her own.

All in all, I’m no Christian, Jew, Catholic or any other religion, though it was nice of her to care enough to send me the stuff.

I’m finishing up the last few pages of my story. I really didn’t think I’d finish it before July or August, but it got to the point where I couldn’t come up with anything else to add to it. I guess you just get to the point where there’s nothing more to say, you know? It’s definitely very strange and very different.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 12, 2004 Even if we stayed till the June 12th deadline, we have no more than a month left here.

Yesterday they came out and staked the corners of the land. Next they’ll stake the individual lots, and I guess they could come today to set up the water tank.

Meanwhile, we’re going into Mesa so I can get an ATM card for the credit union so we can finally close the BOA account and be just about done with them once and for all. He can’t close that account himself because my name is on it, too.

Tom won us a laptop yesterday for $60, including shipping. It’s coming from Missouri.

Amelia went to New York yesterday and the Barbies are going to New Hampshire. Maria hasn’t been paid for yet. We’ve been stiffed so far on both incense auctions and it looks like the winner of the Madonna laserdisc isn’t going to pay up either.

We received the documents pertaining to the land from Michael, along with some pictures. They’re the same pictures that are online, though. The only new pictures are of the surrounding area – Mount Shasta, Sprague River, Klamath Lake, and Klamath Falls. Because Oregon’s older, it’s got a lot of old, ugly buildings like New England does, but I don’t care anymore. All I care about is not having to live with wacko blackos, manic Hispanics or stormin’ Mormons. Anyway, we both signed the papers and will have both our names on the land. We don’t have to get anything notarized, so we can mail it back today. Then, we’ll call him two days before we arrive there to set up a time to be taken to lot #13 on Bly Mountain, which is the piece we paid for. We have up to a year to exchange it, but unless Tom wants to, I’ll probably just take whatever we can get because I know that no matter where we go, we’re going to get noisy neighbors at some point. Never do the quiet people go next to us. Never. So, knowing this, I just hope that the weather there will keep the neighbors indoors more often. The lot next to us is listed as sold, and although Michael stated that no houses can be seen from our land, I’m sure that’ll change soon enough. The good thing is that we can plant so many more things there so much easier and while keeping them out of sound won’t be very easy on a 200’ x 500’ lot, keeping them out of sight shouldn’t be too hard.

Anyway, neither of us believes the number 13 is unlucky, but the numbers 3 and 4 by themselves or combined with each other are definitely evil. Just the terrible things that happened when I was 34 alone are enough to tell me that. Makes me dread turning 43!

Later…

We went to Mesa to sign the papers at the credit union. The 2½-hour trip felt like an all-day road trip. What beautiful flowers are blooming everywhere! I’ll miss the flowers, palms, and cactuses and newer, nicer buildings, but again, if going where we’re going is going to keep the neighbor’s 4 screaming kids indoors more often along with Fido and Spot, I’m all for it. The only thing that may not be much different is the damn car stereos. People still come and go in vehicles all year long there so that could still be a nuisance.

Tom thinks we’re 20 years away from having neighbors there, but I say 1-3.

After the PO and credit union, I got some lunch at Panda Express. It was a bit spicy, but I do love Chinese. Tom got a grinder next door at Subway, and once we had our food we ate outside at one of their tables.

Huey called wanting more information about the well. Either way, we don’t have to worry about him backing out, not that he will, because we already got our money. No one else has been back yet to work on the water tank or any more staking.

Meanwhile, all that’s left for us to do is get the RV, sell the stuff that’s not going with us, and get out.

TUESDAY, MAY 11, 2004 I got up at 4 AM and must’ve lain in bed for 45 minutes slowly sipping my coffee. During the entire time, tons and tons of dogs all around me, but mostly in back, barked non-stop. Not once did they pause for air.

If a pessimist like me can have such good feelings about Oregon, then surely we’re doing the right thing, though I still worry the neighbor curse will follow us. All it takes is one rowdy household to disturb the peace and take away our sense of seclusion. Either way, we’re going and we’re going to just deal with whatever happens there because 13 moves in 18 years are enough!

I’m pissed off because our camera’s broken at a time when we need it more than ever before. We don’t have money to get a new one, plus an additional one as a backup for when it breaks.

Mary sent me the second chapter of that book. This one mainly says that God’s gift of eternal life is free and that we don’t have to worry about being good enough to qualify for it. I don’t know if I believe there’s an afterlife, and if so, what kind of an afterlife. Is there really a heaven? A hell? Reincarnation? Or simply nada? I don’t know what to believe. All the possibilities out there make it hard for me to settle on one belief, but I decided long ago like this chapter seems to suggest we should, to just try to do my best in life without worrying if I’m “good enough” in the end. I already resigned myself to the fact that if for some reason God really does hate gays and sees us as evil sinners and plans to have us rot in hell, so be it because I gotta be me. I don’t think he does hate us, though, or else why would we be here? If I was God and I was creating a world, I wouldn’t put anything in it I didn’t like. I wouldn’t give people the brains to figure out how to do things like heart transplants, abortions, and breast enlargements either if I thought it was wrong. I don’t think he even hates murderers like Monster, though most of us people certainly do! I could never love or forgive my enemies like it also says we should, but once again, I know and accept that I can’t be perfect, so if not being very forgiving and hating my enemies makes me less than perfect, then less than perfect I shall be.

Anyway, I believe some of the things I read, but other things are harder to believe. I accept God for what he is, but I still have a hard time trusting him when so many bad and unfair things happen.

I told her she can send whatever she wants as long as it’s not about bashing gays and women, or suggesting we should all be the same. The biggest thing that turns me off of religion, separate from whatever my feelings may be towards God, is that it’s too structured. To tell everyone it’s a sin to use birth control or to get abortions really irks me. I believe everyone is an individual and should decide these things for themselves without pushing their ways on others and trying to get them to be like them because they believe their way is the right way. We all believe our way is the right way and I think we all should follow our hearts/heads and not some book or what someone else says. I’ve always hated dictatorship.

Mary says to give God my problems and while that may sound like a simple solution, I don’t think it would be effective. We can’t just throw our problems at others. We have to face them and work them out ourselves. No one else can fix them for us, nor do they just vanish into thin air. Not usually anyway. Although Tom doesn’t believe in it either, he explained to me the types of problems you give to him are mostly decision-making dilemmas, and believe me, I could use help with that. I don’t know whether or not I should force myself to try to adapt to sleeping with him or just keep our own rooms as that’s what I’m used to. I also don’t know about the getting it on part of it. I don’t really want to sleep together or get it on but sometimes I wonder if I should anyway. Tom’s a very tolerant, accepting man, so it’s not like I’d be depriving him or hurting him in any way by not doing these things, and he’s always told me he’d never make me do anything I didn’t want to do.

Anyway, to sum it all up, I don’t know if I’ll ever truly believe most of the things Mary does any more than Tom does, but I am at least keeping an open mind. It would be nice if a lot of it could be true and if I could have more faith, but we’ll see. I’ve prayed to God for help with losing weight ever since I lost my ability to do so and got no help. Now to think I could praise him for my extra weight, then lose it, is hard to believe. And they say you have to believe and also not expect results, and I don’t know that I can do either one. Oh well, I try my best like I said.

Mary says she hasn’t been in the mood to work on her book. I understand being in a writing mood, versus not being in a writing mood. Sometimes our writing dictates us just as much as we dictate it. I thought this story would be at least 100 pages and take several more months, yet it looks like it’s nearing its end at around 90 pages. Sometimes our stories drive us more than we drive them. It didn’t come out as good as I hoped it would. It’s just ok. Pretty weird, though.

She asked and I told her that we still don’t know if we’ll get a cabin kit. I think we’ll just use the RV and maybe a tent until we build a dome, but we’ll see. While we may now know that the house is sold and how much moving money we’re going to have, we don’t yet know what he’ll have for a job and this is going to help determine just what we build. Domes seem cool, though, and the cheapest thing you can build yourself and the easiest, too.

We did both good and not-so-good with the 5 things that ended yesterday. Maria surprisingly went higher than Amelia and sold for $18.50, but the Barbies only sold for $1.28. The rodent lot sold for $32. We made $82 in total. It’s going to really suck like hell when we run out of stuff to sell. I just hope that when we do, we really can keep things going by getting more junk through yard sales, etc.

MONDAY, MAY 10, 2004 The rodent parts lot jumped from $10 to $31. Someone bid on the Barbies yesterday and I hope they get more bids as I’d really like to sell them for more than one cent. I also hope Maria goes up more, too. It’d be nice if I could get at least $30 for her, but no way. We’ll find out in just under 12 hours.

Little Guy finally figured out how to get out of his cage when the door is open. He came and got me shortly after midnight, but that was okay. I was going to get up then anyway.

Like clockwork, now that I’m just 10 days away from my period, I’m spotting. And I’ll do so on and off till I get my period. It’s like being on the rag for two weeks every month which is half the time!

We haven’t seen Shiny in weeks now and are pretty sure that with the constantly growing dog population, he got killed.

Again I woke up a little tight. Not as tight as a few days ago as ever since I got rid of the smoking bottles I’ve been better. Again I praised it away, so to speak, and I’m glad it worked, coincidence or not, but I’d still rather not have these problems to have to pray away or will away to begin with. It gets old. It really does.

Anyway, after just one week of using that tonic and gel from Yves, Tom and I both noticed that the craters have smoothed out. I’m both shocked and impressed. It goes to show again that those who think craters are due to fat are wrong. I’ve had these ever since I was 26, and at 26 I was as skinny as most people that age tend to be. I don’t think I’ll get this stuff regularly, though. I only got it because it was part of a special deal, but the stuff is regularly $15, and that’s just for one of them. There are actually two different things I’ve been using. If they last a month, that’s $30 a month, and I don’t need my craters smoothed out that bad. Maybe I’ll just use it in the summer, and my summers are about to shorten, that’s for sure.

Looks like someone bought the land next to Dan’s. There’s a big RV set up on it.

SUNDAY, MAY 9, 2004 I decided to stop getting gum. It was becoming too much of a vice like cigarettes were. One vice (coffee) is enough. It’ll take a while to get used to going without it, but it’s also about 50 fewer calories per day I’ll be going without, too.

I also dumped the bottle burners. Ever since I started those I’ve been tight and so we suspect that somehow there may be a connection. Maybe it was because they burned faster with the stick being upside down. An ugly brown oily residue would form at the top of the bottles. There was something about burning them like that that was creating the build-up because we never noticed any such thing when we’d use regular burners. The bottles also stunk like ashtrays.

Tom said not to worry if I needed to use the inhaler, but I toughed it out on my own. I am going to take it with me, though. I want to have gone a whole year without it before I dump it. He agrees that’d be a good idea and says that the Primatene Mist is a good thing for anyone to have around.

He says my story write-ups were too detailed and gave too much of the plot away, so I said he could do the write-ups and write what he feels is best when the time comes.

We talked more about the possibility of building a smaller place. A much smaller place. Like 400-500 square feet. At first it was easy to say, no way. We’ll be cramped in anything under 1000 square feet, I want around 2000 square feet, I want my own bedroom, this is what I’m used to, etc. But then I got to thinking about how much time and money it could save if only – if only– I could learn to adapt to sharing a bedroom with him. That’s one less room we’d need. Plus, if we switch to laptops, we wouldn’t need offices, so to speak. Just a spot for a printer and some supplies. Separate from the house we’d build a storage room or garage which would contain our eBay supplies. We might even keep the RV we were going to sell since we’d rarely use it, so we could use that too, for whatever. He would build a bathroom in the storage room or garage so we could still have two bathrooms. I used to hate waking up having to pee in the middle of my sleep in the old house to find him in the shower. Anyway, that small space would be a cinch to vacuum, that’s for sure. Instead of having a TV, we may just use the computers or get those glasses you wear that give you the impression you’re viewing a huge screen. As Tom pointed out, there are a number of possibilities. Maybe instead of having a bedroom and living room, we can have two bedrooms/offices. Either way, nothing can be decided till we find out what he’s going to have for a job. I still think I may feel a bit claustrophobic in such a small place at first. I haven’t lived in anything smaller than 1400 square feet since ’93, but the domes have openings that allow for additions to be added on, so it’s not like we couldn’t expand it. I hope I can adapt to whatever we come up with. With him working 8 hours and sleeping 8 hours, I shouldn’t feel smothered and like I don’t have any space or alone time.

I wish he would come out and tell me he wants separate bedrooms and that he simply has no desire to get it on any more than I do. It’d make things a lot easier. But guys just don’t admit to these kinds of things as easily as women. Tom’s the type who’ll always tell me he really did want a kid and that he always wanted to get it on, too. I don’t know about the kid for sure, but actions do speak louder than words. If he isn’t hitting on me any more than I’m hitting on him, then it’s got to be for the same reason; because neither of us is interested. And a change of land/housing is going to change that. We are who we are. That’d be like a brunette saying that moving from Ohio to Florida will make her a blond.

I can see inside my own head, but not his. This means that his lack of interest could range from just that – lack of interest to being even more scared to risk impregnating me with me not wanting that, or maybe he really did get off on teasing me like I suspected and feels that’d be rather hard to do to someone who no longer wants him cumming and who no longer wants a kid, thus taking the fun out of it.

I email him my thoughts and ideas from time to time. Especially if something crosses my mind when he’s asleep. Well, just the other day I emailed him asking if he wanted me to try putting a spell on us to rekindle our desires. He never replied and so I asked if he’d been getting my email. When I did, I saw a faint, but obvious, knowing/teasing smile tug at his lips and this is the kind of thing that makes me think he was teasing me in the past and that this baffling desire to turn me off still lives on in him. Whether or not he ever wanted a kid, I’ve always had the feeling he was teasing me and that he enjoyed it, too. Why, though, is beyond me. Why would anyone want to either sexually tease, deprive or frustrate someone they’re supposed to love? And is it really worth putting themselves out in the midst of it all? Deliberately not cumming is a huge sacrifice just to tease someone. If his not cumming wasn’t about pregnancy fears but was actually about teasing me so as to feel like he wasn’t giving me what I wanted, then that’s pretty twisted. I really hope that was/is not the case. That’d be cruel as opposed to not having it in him to admit he didn’t want a child for fear of hurting me.

Next I ask myself, if it was about teasing me, then why? Why would he do it? He sometimes said I was spoiled, so was that what it was about in his mind? Did he get off on not giving what he felt was a spoiled little princess her way? I can see where some would think I was spoiled because I’ve always had a lot of material things, but I was anything but that. To me, a spoiled person always gets their way. Anyone who knows me well enough should know that I’m anything but used to getting my way. I mean, just reading my journals, which I haven’t yet kept for half of my life, would still be enough to see that I rarely get my way. Just read about the 17 of my 38 years and that fact will stick out like a sore thumb.

Anyway, to wrap it all up, I fear no accidents occurring whether he cums or not. The reason why is pretty simple – I’ve had a feeling since I was little I’d always be childless. I’m 38 years old and I’m still childless. So, that pretty much tells me I can trust my intuition. Why would I be wrong about that now? Plus, if your ability to conceive really does cut out long before you hit menopause which is normally between 55-60 years of age, then I shouldn’t have much more than 5 childbearing years left anyway. On the other hand, a part of me does think it’d be wise to use rubbers. It’s like I always said – just because you think you’re destined to live a long time doesn’t mean you should cross the road without looking both ways first.

I appreciate the fact that Tom said he wouldn’t condemn me for it if I couldn’t sleep with him. Most guys wouldn’t be able to handle it, but that’s just it – Tom isn’t like most guys. If he had a normal appetite, there’s no way he’d be dealing with this separatism so well. Either way, I’ll have no choice but to sleep with him during the drive up, so maybe I’ll somehow manage to adapt, though I won’t count on it. It usually takes more than 4 days to adapt to something like that. That’s a hell of a change for me. So is the idea of us being intimate again. For 3½ years I’ve been used to having him as a friend. Either way, I have a feeling I just might sleep about as well as I slept in jail in Oregon, but oh well. Sleep was always a department I was cursed in any way. Maybe the only way to adapt is to force myself and to tell myself that if he keeps me up all night, I’ll just have to sleep during the daytime and catch up then. I just wish he didn’t stink at times, snore like a freight train and talk in his sleep.

I also have the feeling I’m going to miss this house for a lot longer than just a few years, though not the land.

As much as I hope to not have to mingle with people that much, I wonder what the culture is like in Oregon. While I know there’s good and bad everywhere, I guess they can’t be that intolerant if they allow gays to marry, unlike here where they’re too busy catering to blacks and Mexicans to notice anyone else.

SATURDAY, MAY 8, 2004 No one’s bid on the Barbie trio yet, but if they don’t, it won’t be any big deal. I can just throw them toward my next lot.

Maria still has one bid, but Amelia’s got 4. She’s at $15 which means I’ll get back at least half the money I spent on her, minus shipping. She is a Victorian doll and while I may not dig Victorian, it’s the most popular theme there is amongst dolls. Meanwhile, I’ve only got a sixth back so far of Maria’s cost.

Tom called the owner of the land we want. His name is Michael L. He’s sending us contracts to sign and return along with the down payment. It’s $133 a month for 12 years, or, if you pay the $10,000 off earlier, you get a 10% discount.

Because it’s on a humongous mountain, he says cell phones work great there. This was nice to know. It’s also 1500’ from power lines which to me seems a bit close. It seems like it could gradually creep out to us, inviting others to move into the area, but I’m not stupid. I know all God has to do is find people who are willing to go solar just like we are and plop them right down next to us so it doesn’t matter where the power lines are.

We decided we might save time and money if we go with 3 small 1-story domes, rather than a large 2-story or 3-story dome. We can still have a loft in one of them. He thinks he can get a 400’ square foot dome up in about 6 months, but either way, I am not looking forward to living in the RV with him or in such a small place until we get the money to branch out. I simply hate sharing a bed. Always have, always will. I hate fighting with covers, being rolled over on, and left with barely half a foot of space on my side. And of course there’s the fact that I’m the lightest sleeper in the world. The slightest sound or movement and I wake up. I don’t see how I could ever adapt to this, either.

I don’t want to get it on with him either, though I’m not worried about that becoming an issue. Guys like this don’t suddenly up and get all horny. I just want us to continue to be the friends we have been. I love him and he loves me and that’s all that matters. I can share offices, living rooms, etc., I just don’t want to share bedrooms.

A guy came by today to tell us that come the middle of next week he’s going to install the giant water tank that’ll be backup storage for all the houses. Good. That way when the well craps out again they’ll have 1000 gallons of water.

This ought to show how much Maricopa’s grown; I could hear music thumping from somewhere from 2 AM till almost 4 AM. That’s the first time I’ve heard music that long at those hours.

Tom says they’re getting ready to put something up between next door and the new houses. They have the area staked out. I’m still amazed no houses came in front of us since we’ve been here. More so than I am over the fact that George hasn’t put the fourth rental in.

FRIDAY, MAY 7, 2004 I received some rather interesting reading from Mary yesterday. She enclosed a chapter from a book called The Power of Praise. In this chapter, it talks about various people’s troubles and how praying to God for help didn’t work until they actually praised him for having the problem in the first place. At first I was like, that’s insane! And the people involved said that too, until they did this, saying that that’s what finally got them results, even though the chaplain that wrote it said you shouldn’t expect change, but should only praise him with acceptance and understanding that you’re in a bad situation, it’s for your own good, and so be it. The key is to accept that God is responsible for both the good and the bad that happens to us and that we should thank him for the bad as well as the good because it’s part of his plan for us and is for our own good.

Anyway, her letter really touched my heart. To have such a loving, accepting friend like her is a real breath of fresh air after all the lying, hypocritical, contradictory, phony, selfish control freaks I’ve had the great misfortune of knowing. She and Tom are the only people I can really be myself with and not get condemned for the way I am, and I know I have my faults just like anyone else out there. The good to come out of the bad people and the hardships I’ve known is that you appreciate good people and good times all the more and never take them for granted. My husband may not be perfect either and while he’s done some things he shouldn’t have, it was quite a change going from an abusive environment, to aloneness, then to a loving home when I moved in with him in the fall of ’93. It wasn’t just what I read that touched me but the fact that Mary cared enough to send it to me. And she did it in a non-pushy way which means a lot to me. I know I could write back saying I thought it was all hogwash and that she’d still love/accept me, but I don’t know if I’d say it’s total hogwash.

I never heard of or thought of the idea of praising God for literally everything, good and bad. Tom’s not an atheist, but he doesn’t believe in things like destiny or that things happen for a reason like we do. I don’t believe there is a God and a devil. I think God is the devil and the devil is God. Meaning, they’re both one entity. I also don’t believe there’s a reason for every little thing that happens to us. Meaning, there doesn’t need to be a reason I chose pink lip gloss over purple today, but I’m sure there’s a reason we’re going to Oregon.

Yes, you could say the investor’s a godsend like Mary said, though there are tons of them around and they’d have to be a fool to pass up such a smoking deal. Either way, I know things could’ve been worse and that we could’ve had trouble getting a buyer of some kind. I’m glad we won’t have to go through dealing with showing the house, home inspections, etc. Knowing the house is sold and that we are going to get a little money out of it helps ease the stress a little, and it’ll ease up even more once we get there.

As far as accepting God – I always have. Meaning, I know he’s there. It’s like how I see blacks. I don’t always understand them or agree with their ways, but I know they’re there, they’re not going away, and so I accept them.

I want to believe her when she says God loves me. It’s just been hard to believe that during particular circumstances I’ve gone through. In other words, it’s certainly easier to feel more loved now than I did in jail. I can also see where not understanding his ways can make it hard to believe and have faith. To put trust in one who can allow such catastrophes to occur is hard, yet I also believe that good can come from bad just as bad can come from good.

Around ’97, and I think I mentioned this recently, I began to pray for God to not let me have the child I wanted at the time, thinking it was the only way I’d feel loved and not so punished, since I knew since I was a little girl that I wasn’t meant to have a child anyway. Well, this might not have been praising him for not allowing me the right to choose, but I was “going along with him” in a sense, asking for what was meant to be anyway; my not conceiving. The point is that ironically, it was around this time that the desire began to fade. I didn’t just pray for a child, I prayed for him to take the desire away if he wasn’t going to allow me one.

Then there was what happened last night. Well, I can’t see myself, for instance, thanking him for delivering me into an abusive family or for having me get framed and sent to jail, but I did thank him for having asthma. I awoke after just 4 hours of sleep tighter than hell. It was just like old times only minus the wheezing. It was the closest I came to needing the inhaler since I stopped using them, but I knew I was so tight that it’d be useless anyway and that Tom just may end up going to Oregon alone! It was no fun. By alternating between making myself yawn and pressing my lips together and blowing as if I were blowing up a balloon, I can usually relax and open my lungs, but nothing was working. Not even my spells. It was like an iron fist had seized hold of my lungs. So I figured it was as good a time as any to try praising God for it as ridiculous as the notion seemed to me, and sure enough, my lungs opened! Tom doesn’t believe it was the praise, though. He thinks it was my spell. Me? Well, I need more than just one incident to be convinced, and I am an established psychic after all, so it could be a coincidence.

I thought of praising him for being fat, for my not being able to keep a schedule so easily and for long, for Tom and I having no desire for each other, and for my deteriorating eyesight, but I wonder if this is too much. Would God feel overwhelmed in a sense or that these requests were unreasonable, since Tom and I love each other and don’t have to get it on, and since deteriorating eyesight and extra weight go hand in hand with age, or what? I wouldn’t bug him for something as silly as a hangnail, but I was just wondering what was acceptable and what wasn’t. I asked Mary for her opinion. Perhaps I should cut them in half and just praise the weight and schedule problem? I also wonder if there are a certain number of times we should praise God for a certain situation we dislike or is once enough.

Anyway, I understood and believed some of what I read and some I didn’t. The 3 biggest things I don’t believe are 1. God helps those who help themselves. 2. We are to have all we wish for. 3. God loves everybody. I’ve seen too many people, including myself, do whatever they could to achieve certain goals/dreams, only to end up not succeeding. I once tried to conceive the child I once wanted, but when your husband won’t do his part to get help and continues to say that all will work out on its own and that he really does want a kid and that we can make one without a doctor’s help, there’s only so much you can do. For obvious reasons, I don’t believe we can have all we wish for or else we’d all have it all and it wouldn’t be such a you-win-some, you-lose-some world. No one has it all, from what I’ve seen. It’s also hard for me to believe he loves everyone when I think of how some people’s lives have been as opposed to others.

However, I do believe he’s responsible for both the good and the bad that happens to us. That’s why I feel God and the devil are one and the same.

It would be hard, I would think, for most people to praise God for their troubles without a part of them hoping it’ll result in change. It says we’re only kidding ourselves if we secretly hope for change, but it just seems like it’d be an awfully hard task not to hope for at least a little change. Either way, I doubt I’ll pray for much. I just don’t see much point in it.

I appreciate wholeheartedly the good that comes into my life and I do my best to cope with any hardships that come into it as well. Sometimes that’s by bitching in my journal, sometimes it’s by listening to music, and other times it’s by talking with Tom or taking a hot bubble bath.

Yesterday, Tom received funny feedback. It said, “Thank you for the keyboard. It smells good. It sounds cool, too.” Gee, I wonder why it smelled so good!

As soon as we get the check, we’re going to make the down payment of $500 on what we think is an ideal piece of land 20-25 miles north of the California border. It’s 2.3 acres and is the second one in from the corner. The owner says you can’t see other houses from it. Tom got a satellite picture of it and we picked out what we think will probably be the best spot to build the house which will be sort of in the middle. Of course, this picture is about a decade old so who knows how the terrain may’ve changed since? There were no houses in the area that we could see of either, but that could be a different story now. Also, the property is more rectangular so the people who end up building on two sides of it will be at a good distance, but those on the other two sides will be a little too close for comfort since I can never have quiet neighbors. They could be as close as 150’ or closer. The difference between here and there, though, is that there’ll be trees between the houses. Hopefully, it’ll block out sound as well as sight. It depends on how noisy they are. If they’re sitting outside chatting like civilized adults, it shouldn’t be as audible as screaming kids, barking dogs, and basey music. Tom insists it’s so remote compared to here that there may never be any neighbors in our lifetime, but I know better.

Since there are cougars, bears and deer there, we’re going to get large cans of mace, and I guess at some point we’ll get a gun, too.

Tom read that the unemployment rate is higher there, but those who do work make significantly more than they do here. Theft is a little higher, but not violent crime. They have an average yearly rainfall of 16” and snowfall of 34” and the area we’re going to will be 1500’ above sea level.

My butter rum incense came out well.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 5, 2004 It’s 3:00 in the morning and 83º in here. I’d say we’re coming up on that time when the AC must run night and day.

I miss having butter rum around, so I dipped the remaining eighth of the butter rum oil I had. I hope it comes out well, though, because butter rum is the one scent I just can’t seem to dip well. I’m trying a shorter soak and longer drying time this time around.

Later…

The house closed today, so now it’s no longer legally ours and now we’re merely guests allowed to stay for the next month. While I don’t expect the transition to be smooth, I hope it isn’t too rocky. The hardest part will be sleeping at night and staying awake during the daytime, but at least I’ll be able to lie down along the way. Having to sit in the cramped, uncomfortable cab of the truck wouldn’t have been much fun at all. Either way, I just want to get it done and over with!

The only bad thing is that he couldn’t get the money when he went to sign the papers. They’re going to mail a check instead.

The renter’s trailer and loud truck are gone again. Good. I hope it stays gone for at least a month, too. And if nothing could break for just one month, and if the freeloaders could continue to stay out of our lives, it would be oh-so-wonderful.

He spoke to one of the landowners and they say that with a $250 permit, we could park the RV on the land for up to a year. This way we’d only have to go to the campground to dump the tanks and do laundry. That’s a great relief to me because campgrounds are totally wild. People are partying at all hours of the day and night and there are always, always little kids running around screaming their heads off. It would not be a peaceful place to stay.

We looked at floor plans for a 3-story dome that totals 1800 square feet. We don’t want anything smaller than that or bigger than 2500 square feet. I think right around 2000 would be sufficient enough. Anyway, this thing will definitely be even more unique than this house, and domes are easier for one person to build because you don’t need to brace the walls until the ceiling is in place. The dome is a series of triangles and not fewer large sheets of squares or rectangles.

Tom says he knows for sure that our lives will be better in Oregon, and I think it will too, it’s just that we can never know for sure until we get there. I have to wonder, though, will Oregon come to hold its share of bad memories for me like Massachusetts, Connecticut, Maine, Vermont and Arizona? Maine hardly counts compared to the rest of them, and even Arizona’s a joke compared to MA, but the depression over not being allowed the child I once wanted, and then the * seizing control of my life for 7 years, taints it enough.

Another week and it’ll be a month of not hearing from Mary. In her last letter, she was really paranoid about my using her in my book and hurting her case, but she hurt the case all by herself when she opened her mouth to the pigs and media. Sending bits and pieces of her book to various people didn’t help either. When she had me send it to Terrie, that automatically went to Monster’s defense attorney as well. At first I was like, don’t worry about it. You didn’t say anything incriminating, but actually, there’s plenty in the book that’s incriminating. Mainly that she knew what Monster was all about long before he killed Gretchen. She went back to him after he abused her and James for quite a while and the book clearly says this. He kept abusing her and she kept taking it. He kept abusing her kids and she kept going back to him. She’d run and return, run and return. It’d be like someone shooting someone and saying they didn’t mean to hurt them. Some things are just too obvious to deny or dispute.

TUESDAY, MAY 4, 2004 That was quite a dogfight we just had somewhere in back. I’m pretty sure it was at the renter’s. Who else has half a dozen dogs around here? Again, I really am glad we aren’t staying here and that we never did build porches and put in a pool. We’d have zero privacy and not always much peace. Anyway, there were 3-4 dogs barking frantically. I placed my ear on the back door and could hear a woman shouting at them, then the sound of beating. The woman was hitting them with a stick, I guess, trying to break up the fight. I don’t know if it was only the renter’s dogs involved or if other dogs got on their turf and got into it with them or what. It could’ve been dogs going to mess with the one that lives at Dan’s place, but I doubt it.

Now, I gotta go push myself to exercise. It’s just so discouraging when you know that nothing you do will ever cause you to lose more than 2 or 3 pounds, but if I don’t do it, I’ll gain 40 or more for sure.

Later…

Yes! Both Maria and Amelia are going. Amelia has 2 bids.

Tom now has 35 feedbacks.

I perfected our bottle-burning experiment. It looks weird, but it’s functional. Instead of the more expensive, high-calorie teas in their pretty bottles, I found that 2-liter soda bottles work well provided I slit a long groove up top by the neck. That way the smoke doesn’t get trapped in the bottle. The groove allows the smoke/fragrance to waft up much more freely since the necks of soda bottles like these are so narrow. Also, instead of clipping it to the rim, I take and slip the stick in the middle of a bobby pin and rest it on top of the opening. The stick then dangles down the center of the bottle.

I’m thinking of doing my next story set in the first MA house I lived in. I was thinking of trying some family drama-type of story, but of course, the main characters will be gay. I don’t want to do an Oregon-based story until I’ve lived there a year, or close to it. I’d still also like to try that story of the little girl shuffled from foster home to foster home that puts spells on those who do bad things to her. It’ll be a while since I’ll be working on my current one for some time yet.

Since Tom’s going to the recycling center every Saturday to hunt for stuff to sell, he’s decided not to burn trash here ever again, and to just pay the dollar a bag it’ll cost to dump the trash. There shouldn’t be more than a bag or two a week.

Later…

The house is closing a couple of days early, so tomorrow is when he’ll go to Mesa to sign the papers. So in less than 12 hours from now, they could stick a cow on the back of this land and it wouldn’t be our problem. He’s also going to stop at a place that sells camper shells and see what a new one costs since he’s been having trouble finding used ones.

We made our final decision – Oregon is where we want to go. No place is perfect, but it seems like it could very well have fewer cons and more pros than other places. Unfortunately, we have to get a $350 permit just to park the RV, unlike in Nevada, but sonic booms are so unlikely there than in Nevada, so it’ll be worth it. We considered forests in Colorado, but those have higher chances of fires and there’s also more snow and humidity there as well.

We’ll have to have half a dozen or more inspections of various kinds which I have mixed emotions about. On one hand, I don’t fancy the idea of having to seek approval for anything we do at our ages. On the other hand, if we’re doing something wrong that could harm us in the end, we want to know about it.

In another week or so, it’ll be a month since I’ve heard from Mary. I usually send letters out to her on Mondays, but if I haven’t heard from her come next Monday, I’m going to skip sending anything out till the Monday after that. If something’s wrong, I don’t want to be sending mail that she may not be getting. The aunt may be a little embarrassed to call me now that the news of her pervert husband is out, so if something’s wrong, I may not know it. I can’t imagine never hearing from Mary again, but people are so full of surprises I know I should keep my mind open to all possibilities. The question would be what to do with her stuff if I stopped hearing from her for whatever the reason may be. I guess I’d archive her stuff for 6 months, then delete it in a year. I’m sure I’m just being paranoid about there being anything wrong, though. I’m a worrywart. I’m sure she’s just hesitant to write at this time or just not in a writing mood. Maybe people have stopped sending her money and she can’t afford envelopes. I hope, though, that at least Elizabeth is helping her out. She said she would.

I stop using the patches and my weight goes back down. Interesting. What I don’t get is why I have such severe craters. I’ve seen people older than me who’ve never worked out a day in their lives have less than I’ve got. Tom says it’s probably just hereditary. Well, when God designed me he certainly had it in for my fat, bow-legged, varicose-veined, large-pored, cratered legs!

Something’s got it in for my eyes too, and I’m thinking maybe I should add vitamin A to my diet. I went online and looked up night blindness and that’s what they recommend. I didn’t think anything could be done to improve vision, but Tom says it can and that the eyes are organs like any other organs in our bodies. I have my doubts that this will help, but I’m willing to at least give it a try.

It’s been stinking again when the AC runs, though we haven’t had any trouble with the water pressure, so I don’t know what to make of it. Somehow I’ve always had the feeling the various foul smells around here were not quite of earthly origin.

MONDAY, MAY 3, 2004 Tom got to the PO too early to get today’s mail, but he got my stuff from Yves which came on Saturday. I got a couple of things that are supposed to reduce dimpled skin, facial creams, small bottles of shampoo and shower gel, and perfumes. I now have my top two favorite perfumes, though one of the other ones I got isn’t that great. It’s not bad, though. There was also a blue and white checked eyeglass case, a makeup bag, and a tote that came with the order for free. I kept the eyeglass case for sunglasses, but I might try to sell the other bags at the swap meet.

All Oregon land requires payments of about $150 a month for several years. That may be nothing compared to what we had to pay here, but still, the less hold people have on us the better, so Tom’s going to see if Ma will pay the land off and let us pay her rent instead. Tom said, “I know it sounds cold, but she’ll be long gone before the land can be paid off.”

Doesn’t sound cold to me. She used us, so why not use her? And like I said, she can pay back any money she took us for, but not the time she took from us. That was something that was/is priceless and irreplaceable.

Anyway, he’s going to bid on a 3-acre lot. I’m kind of glad we’re not going to get a huge piece of land after all. Yes, it would keep houses further away from us, but the more land we had, the less we’d be able to afford to fence it and so the more others would use it, assuming that’s customary there, too. A portion of this particular piece of land is adjacent to government land, and although the seller insists it’s secluded, there does seem to be quite a few gaps in trees. If we go out there to find no one’s around, great, but I have to think in terms of the future. As soon as we move to wherever, others are coming, too. I know we’ll be followed. People go where we go. A curse is a curse is a curse as far as problem neighbors go, so like I said, it doesn’t matter where we go. Curses follow us wherever we go. This curse has been on me for over a decade and in every place I’ve lived since which totals 8 places, counting the Siesta Suites we were holed up in for a month before we played the trailer/hotel rotation game. The good thing about this seller is that they too, will let you exchange the land for a like piece if you don’t like what you see when you get there.

I tore the patch off a few days early. It’s not only worthless, but I’m up a couple of pounds. It’s as if something’s punishing me for even thinking about trying to change the way I am, not that that’s what I intended to do. I am how I am, fat or not. I know I’ll never lose weight and that’s ok as long as people don’t go burning us again the way they have in the past. I’d be fat and happy any day versus thin and miserable. I used to have dreams like becoming rich, getting it on with a gorgeous woman (as in Kate gorgeous), being a famous singer. Now all I want is to just not be fucked over while I’m rendered powerless to do anything about it. That’s all I want other than just general health and happiness. Any additional plusses would be seen as extra bonuses.

We listed 5 things this evening - computer books, the huge rodent lot which already has a bid, Amelia, Maria, and the 3 Barbies. What’s shocking is that Maria has 11 views, Amelia’s got 12, but Barbie’s only got 2!

My growing farsightedness seems to be noticeably worse at night, for reasons I can’t fathom.

The incense kept going out in the bottle Tom drilled holes in. He insisted it just needed either more holes or bigger holes. I insisted it was getting smothered by its own ashes and that it just needed to be suspended. Well, Tom’s right on a lot of things, but not this one. We got another bottle and I took a tiny clip that Tom suggested I try and clipped the stick to the rim of the bottle. Now that the lit part isn’t touching anything, it’s burning just fine.

SUNDAY, MAY 2, 2004 The palm tree is still alive. Tom said he’d be surprised if it was still alive a year from now because it’s a desert palm and not a tropical palm. The only real tropical palms are coconut palms, but palms like these come from scum places like Saudi Arabia.

While he thinks it was definitely my powers that broke me free of the inhalers and basically cured my asthma (I only have a little tightness on occasion and it’s also been weeks since I’ve needed the nasal spray), he’s not sure yet if his going without a cold for so long is due to my powers, but will be more convinced it is the longer he goes without colds.

Later…

This rat does not listen. I let him out and forgot about him for a while. An hour or two later Tom mentioned the fact that he hadn’t come to see us like he always does. I called him, but unlike most rats we’ve had, he doesn’t come when called. He’s also not very bright. I accidentally left his door unlatched yet he never escaped like Little Buddy and Little Fella, who were definitely our smartest rats so far.

We took a bottle and drilled holes in the bottom of it like the incense smoking bottles, but not surprisingly, the incense kept going out as it would get smothered in ash.

Also, not surprisingly, the patch is worthless. I’m still the same weight and simply way beyond the years that most of us can lose weight, but it’s ok. I’m so used to being heavy now. Besides, the next time I get threatened or actually jumped, the extra weight will go well with the temper, muscles, agility and fitness.

We were $4 shy of our $60 sale goal when our earlier auctions ended. The cage is going to Florida, the Madonna disc is going to Ohio, the Tom Wait albums are going to Indiana, and I forgot where the keyboard’s going. It sold for a tenth of what I paid for it 15 years ago, but 15 years ago keyboards weren’t dirt cheap like they are today.

I decided to auction both Maria and Amelia with start prices of $9.99. They’ll be up sometime soon, along with all kinds of other things. We’re going to have CD lots to get rid of the ones we didn’t sell at the swap meet, only they’ll have no cases. We’ll slip them in a booklet of plastic sleeves.

SATURDAY, MAY 1, 2004 Miss Perfect called today. It may’ve been only because she wanted something, but that’s ok because there’s plenty we want from her as well, like her old shit she’s too lazy to sell or dump. She may be a dependable worker, but Mary’s so lazy that she won’t even move and if anyone needs a bigger house, it’s her. And of course she could afford it, too. Anyway, she wants to buy the turntable so she can digitize her old records. Whether or not she’ll give us old junk to sell or any money, in the end, beats me. I have my doubts about them buying the RV because of how much money they’ve already lent us, though I say they could never give us enough after the time they stole from us as newlyweds as I’ve said a million times before. The time we lost to them was priceless. Anyway, I’m sure we’ll at least get one of Ma’s famous $20 bills.

We saw Kate guest starring in that show. She looks great for a rich person of her age yet lousy compared to 30 years ago. Again, TV today really sucks. It’s too damn predictable. In the 70s it was fun and entertaining. Now it’s too real, too graphic and too violent. And everything’s child abuse, childbirth, drugs and sex.

I made my final decisions, now that it’s getting closer, as to what my top 5 picks will be when getting the larger lifelike dolls. First, though, there was this site that had an amazing variety of eyes. I didn’t know so many existed! They had everything from realistic eyes to cat’s eyes, rainbows, metallic and all kinds of far-out colors. I’d go as far as violet or cornflower eyes, but metallic silver would detract from the realism of the dolls which is what I’m after in the first place. If I want far out I can get that with Barbie.

Anyway, my picks are “29 Spanish Alexa which I’ll get undressed and in a sitting pose. They’ll all be sitters except for Shani, the 22” black doll which I’ll get dressed. I’m getting 24” undressed Mandy with violet eyes and strawberry blond hair and 24” dressed Jamaica with auburn hair and green eyes. These 4 will come from Gwen at the Doll Market. From Linda at Doll Creations (because Gwen doesn’t have her) I’ll be getting 28” Becky with red hair and cornflower eyes. I hope to have them all within a year of him beginning a job.

Incense Galore added 13 new fragrances: chamomile, Egyptian goddess, first kiss, forbidden fruit, gingerbread, happy, holly berry, Hugo boss, Indian fruit, J. P. Gaultier, oriental nights, pleasure & unforgettable. Each time I order I’ll rotate between fragrances. When you have the same ones going day after day you tend to get so used to them that you can barely smell them. It’ll make them more special to take some time off from them. I still have hundreds of sticks, though, so it’ll be several months before I order again.

It doesn’t look like the person who won the first or the second set of incense is going to pay for them. At least we can do something about it for once. The first step is notifying eBay, then we give them a negative write-up.

We have 5 things ending tomorrow, plus we’ll be listing several more. I’ve got a few more Barbies I don’t want that can go up, plus more incense (I just hope that someday one of the winners will pay for it), the large rodent lot, plus a slew of other things. I may even try to auction Maria or sell her at the swap meet. The worst that could happen is that no one wants her and she goes with us to sit in our store forever.

[ebitchwriting]

Dragged Into The Blood

Story Summary: Never staying in one place for long, moving nearly every year, Lea Anderson was used to impermanence, chaos, and having to leave everything behind at the drop of a hat. Lea never expected that she would be kidnapped and wake up in a rusted, decrepit prison cell because of a madman's delusional belief in eugenics and cleansing the Earth of imperfection. By herself, with only the clothing on her back, she will have to rely on luck and logic to escape before she's killed or worse. Chapter Summary: Finding an escape from this compound was easier said than done when everything was locked, and the captor was seemingly watching their every move, pulling their strings where the captor wished. More than that, it was getting harder for Lea to hide her true nature from her fellow prisoners, and there seemingly being a feral creature around every corner, ready to tear them apart. How long could Lea keep her mask up in the carnage? Chapter Warnings: blood, gore, guns, death, and sensory overload issues.

I'm back! After a month! Sorry, an ice storm hit, which led to me losing power for 12 days. Then I noticed how literally every single chapter has typos or weird nonsensical crap in it because, apparently, Grammarly sucks now. So once I got power back, I obsessively started to go over each chapter and edited out all the mistakes until it was acceptable in my eyes. And, in all honesty, my MA Apprenticeship overwhelmed me as well. Regardless, I'm back with a new chapter and working on the next! However, I will be changing my upload schedule to once a month rather than once every two weeks to account for the apprenticeship, this fic, and also the passion project of my own epic fantasy world. Anyway, enjoy the chapter, and let me know what you think of it!

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17.

Chapter 15: Locks and Keys

No one said a word as Claire took the first step forward. No one said a word when they pushed past the door and entered yet another ominous, dark hallway, lit only by the flickering overhead lights. Moving slowly, cautiously, anticipating someone or something to pop out and attack them. Yet, with each step, nothing jumps out of the shadows. Leaning against the wall behind Claire as she peered over the edge, there was still nothing. Turning past the corner, everyone stayed eerily quiet, not wanting to tempt fate. 

‘… And whoever is puppeteering us…’ 

Lea couldn’t help the twitches at every distant screech. Wails reverberated off the walls, and it was impossible to tell where they originated. Eyes wide beneath the cover, darting back and forth as she shuffled forward. 

‘… The doors conveniently unlocking… that butchered guy dropping as soon as Claire grabbed the keys… the fact we found each other damn near immediately… There is no fucking way that whoever kidnapped us isn’t watching us right now...’  The corner of her mouth twitched into a grimace. Back taut, feeling like a thread threatening to snap under the tension. 

‘… This is actually worse than Wesker… at least that fuck couldn’t be bothered to keep tabs on me after… that…’

Another corner. Another stop to peer over the edge for anyone or anything malevolent. After a moment, Claire silently begins moving again. Moira tentatively followed, honey eyes alert and darting around the dimly lit area. Lea languished behind, struggling to keep her movements calm and controlled. 

‘… They always have a goal… no matter how fucked it is… there’s always one… I’m swear if it’s godhood again…’   

Claire pushed open the red-lit double doors, the hinges groaning, timed almost perfectly with the low wailing of something far in the distance. Every hair not singed from Lea’s body stood on end as a rush of frigid air poured out from what looked like the remains of a morgue. Teeth chattering, shivering hands reaching up to rub at her shoulders. Lea’s clothed gaze stared enviously at the other two and their jackets. 

“Hey, what’s your name?” Moira whispered, rushing towards the knocked-over desks, rummaging through the drawers as fast as possible with shaky hands. The corners of Lea’s lips curled into a vindicated smirk at the sight, rubbing at her shoulders as she trembled. 

“It’s L-” Lea froze, eyes falling to the floor as she tried to focus on what I.D. the B.S.A.A. supplied her. She cringed with every second that passed as Lea struggled with her memory. 

“… Uh, you alright?” Moria asked, giving her a quizzical look as she moved across the room, idly looking over the counters for anything useful. 

“Yep! It’s… um… Lana… Westerna.” Lea awkwardly drawled out as the name finally resurfaced, instantly burning with embarrassment when she peeked at Moira’s incredulous face. 

“… Like from Dracula?” Moira asked, quirking up an eyebrow at her, eyes meeting cotton. Lea could feel the heat radiating off her cheeks as she blushed harder from the embarrassment. 

“At least they didn’t name me Lucy,” Lea tried feebly to laugh it off, her attempts at laughter sounding painfully forced. Lea cursed under her breath for jokingly suggesting that name and her inability to use the correct tone. 

“Shh, we still don’t know what’s out there. Come on.” Claire warned, the octaves of her voice falling down a few notes for a moment. The two quickly finished giving the room a once-over before falling back behind her. 

Out and around the corner, the group found a ladder going down. Lea rises to the tips of her toes, peering over Claire’s shoulder to the lower platform. A surprisingly small room, hardly lit by fallen lights, just as run-down as everything else in this building. Her gaze locked with the two corpses on either end of the room. One covered in a bloodied and dirtied white tarp. After a moment of focusing her gaze, she recognized the fallen butchered guard as the other corpse. 

“Alright, we made it. Key’s over there.” Claire breathed a sigh of relief, stepping down a few rungs of the ladder before gripping the sides and sliding down. On the other hand, Moira chose to go down each rung, complaining about the smell. After a pondering second, Lea slid down like Claire, not wanting to waste more time than necessary. 

Tentatively stepping toward the butchered guard, about fifty feet away. Forty. Cries of agony, but the other two didn’t hear it.

‘… Not safe yet…’

Thirty feet. Twenty. A loud crash that as all flinching back. 

“Shit, what was that?” A scared muttering nearby, Moira, perhaps? Or was it herself? It certainly wasn’t Claire. 

Ten feet. Five. Then, finally, they’re at the body, the air thick with apprehension as Claire kneels and inspects the corpse. The more experienced woman grimaced slightly at the sickly-sweet stench of death but ignored it. 

“The key’s gone.” 

‘… The keys aren’t on the belt… did it fall to the ground..? No... nothing… not a damn thing… maybe it’s caught..?’ 

Claire pulled out the handgun from the guard’s belt, quickly ejecting the clip and inspecting it alongside the chamber of the 9mm. Lea’s eyes were trailing upward, looking at possible hooks and crevices. A shuffling step backward echoes in the room. 

“Do you, uh… are you gonna use that?” Moira asked timidly, her voice just wavering a little bit. Shuffling of fabric, something plastic being clicked open. 

“More reliable than any person,” Claire responded without a beat. A click, then something being pulled out from under the corpse, quickly followed by something plastic clicking close and something heavy being holstered. More shuffling steps backward. 

“If you say so,” Moira said, her tone wary but dropping the subject. Lea opened her mouth to ask Moira a question when a metallic glint caught her attention. The keys, hanging off the side of a rusted water tank. 

“I found the keys!” Lea excitedly announced, pointing at the rusted tank with a smile. A smile that fell as soon as she turned around and was met with the confused gazes of the other two women. “Uh… I really don’t need much to adjust to the dark…” Lea mumbled under her breath, reaching a hand to scratch at the back of her head. 

“Moira, shine on light on it, will ya?” Claire asked, unholstering her gun. Lea didn’t miss how Moira’s amber honey eyes flickered with fear as they locked onto the 9mm. After a moment, the pixie-haired girl shook her head and pointed the flashlight at the water tank. Lea quickly raised her hands to cup her ears and turned away from the pair. 

A jolt of pain shot through her head the second the trigger was pulled, followed by a high-pitched ringing muffling all other sounds. The jingling of the keys as they were quickly scooped from the ground was barely audible, much less the loud, mechanical beep of the nearest door being unlocked. Lea shook her head, rubbing at her ears as if that would make the ringing go away quicker. 

Turning around, the three started making their way back. Fifty feet, forty. Lea nervously glanced around the room as she followed Claire, her nerves filled with urgency. Memories start flickering in the back of Lea’s mind, sidestepping her attempts to shove it down. Thirty feet, twenty. The temple, bullets flying back her head, debris coating her lungs, blood dripping down her hands. Ten feet. 

The door crashes open, practically hanging off its hinges, as another mutilated shell of a person starts wailing, spewing blood and saliva everywhere. Without waiting another second, Claire aims and shoots, the bullet lodging in its throat and sending another jolt of agony through Lea’s head. Lea’s clutching at her head, hardly aware of the whine that escapes her lips. 

A hand grips her shoulders, and suddenly, she’s being pulled along and toward the ladder. Someone’s shouting voice warbled as if from underwater, the horrid ringing muffling anything identifiable. Snapping back into action, Lea climbed the ladder as fast as possible. Sprinting down the hall, skidding around the corners. Eyes locked forward, ignoring everything behind her. 

Slamming past the door and entering the frosted morgue, skidding to a stop at the sight of another one of those creatures baring its teeth at Claire. Lea’s eyes went wide. Claire lashed out with her knife before Lea could try to launch herself forward. She slashed the cheeks, forcing the thing to clutch at its face. Spinning around, Claire kicks at the thing, sending it back into the knocked-over trolley. 

Claire looked over her shoulder, shouting something indiscernible back at the two girls before running again. Lea’s eyes flitted to the mutilated body in the corner for a moment before going against her instincts and following Claire and Moira. 

Through the double corners, swerving around the broken door hanging off its hinges and down the hall. Skidding around the corners to a screeching stop. There was no one in sight except another one of those monsters. It shrilly cried out, charging her. 

Lea cringed at the sound but forced herself to slip into a fighting stance. Closer and closer, leaving bloody footprints on the linoleum floor. Shoulders tensing, eyes locking with a bloated, malignant form. As soon as it reached out to grab Lea, she grabbed the closest arm, flipping and slamming the body into the ground. One swift stomp to the skull, crushing it beneath her heel. The ringing still hadn’t let up, but Lea could feel the crunch, the wet slick of blood and tissue. 

‘… Doesn’t matter… need to find the others…’ 

Lea’s eyes roamed the corridor for anything familiar. After a few seconds, a flash of movement. Eyes snapped to the barred windows, and heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of auburn hair and a dirtied hoodie. 

Relief was short-lived as the door at the end of the corridor flew open, and another one of those creatures toppled out. It wasted no time to start sprinting at Lea. Just as Lea slipped back into fighting stance, a shot rings out, the bullet lodging in the eye. The teen flinched but forced herself to close the distance, grabbing and slamming the skull into her knee. Once, twice, thrice, then it went limp.  

A hand grabbed and pulled on Lea’s shoulder, and it took everything in her to not twist it off, focusing instead on the flash of auburn hair and blood-spattered leather jacket as they started sprinting again. Lungs burned with every breath, muscles aching with every step. Mind blank for once as her gaze is locked forward, uncaring of whatever is behind her. 

Another walking, screeching horror charges from the opened isolation rooms. Another shot rings out, bringing the monster down to its knees. Instinctually, Lea swings down into its temple with her shin, bringing it down. From the corner of her eye, she saw Claire quickly searching for something in the isolation room. 

Before the three could continue their escape, something leaps out from the dark. Without thinking, Lea pushes Moira out of its path. Within a second, it tackles the teenager. She reaches out with her hands, keeping it as far away as possible. It clawed at her with its gored and reeking hands. Lea gagged at the stench. From behind the writhing creature, Lea’s covered gaze caught the glint of the barrel pointing at the thing. She ducks her head to the side, squeezing her eyes shut. Another shot, and the splatter of something hot and putrid coating the back of her head and shoulder. Lea pushed the corpse off and flung herself back onto her feet. Running.  

Slamming past the blue door, sprinting up the stairs. Claire practically rips the key from her pocket, shoving it into the lock and unlocking it. Yanking the key out of the lock, her hands push the door open, and all three rush past the threshold, slamming and locking the door behind them. 

Moira and Lea collapsed, heaving and trembling, while Claire leaned against the door. Lea cupped her ears, closed her eyes, and focused on breathing through her mouth, trying to not gag at the never-waning scent of decay and excrement. The slowing thrum of her heartbeat. The feel of her now sweat-slick skin and sticky hair. Slowly, the high-pitched ringing ebbed, and the mumbling curse words of Moira right next to her brought Lea back down to the present. Behind the stained cloth, Lea opened her eyes, taking in the image before her. Moira, on her hands and knees, dry heaving and cursing up a storm that would put a sailor to shame. Claire, leaning against the door, breathing slowly and deeply, eyes closed yet focused. 

After another blessed minute of rest and silence, Claire’s cerulean eyes opened, darting between the two younger women. She knelt, helping Moira back onto her feet before switching to Lea, offering her hand and a tired but warm smile. Tentatively, Lea took Claire’s hand and pulled herself up. They all exchanged glances with each other before Claire took the lead, slowly walking down the new corridor. 

They had barely turned the corner before coming upon another corpse. However, Lea wasn’t focused on the fresh carnage but rather on the extended barrel of a shotgun that lay just out of reach of the gnawed hands. Very little of his blood contaminated the gun, only the barest amount on the handle. Claire grabbed the weapon and slung it over her shoulder before moving past the body. Lea couldn’t help but notice how Moira’s already pallid skin grew greyer at the sight of the weapon, honey eyes locking with it as the three turned the corner. 

Claire swipes at the wooden crate, shattering the fragile wood. She knelt to rummage through the debris before picking up a small pack of shotgun shells. She holstered her 9mm and grabbed the shotgun slung over her shoulder. 

“You need a gun too, Moira,” Claire said flatly as she started loading the shells. Moira froze mid-step, eyes going impossibly wider. 

“No, I really, really don’t. Sorry, I don’t do firearms.” Without a beat, the words rambled out of her mouth. Her eyes fell to the ground as they seemed to grow distant, far away. “Not after what happened,” Moira asserted in a hush, her arms crossing over her chest, almost as if cradling herself. Claire swiped the knife through two more crates, grabbing another pack of shells and a handful of green herbs. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. I forgot.” Claire turned, looking at the brunette. She let out a small sigh as her eyes trailed to the floor, pondering momentarily. “Maybe we can find you something else.” Claire raised her eyes to try to meet Moira, but the brash young woman scoffed, brushing past Claire. 

“No, I’ll just… be on flashlight duty or something. It’s fine.” Moira insisted, despite the waver in her cadence. Walking over to the surprisingly intact storage shelf in the corner, rummaging through the cluttered boxes for anything useful. There were a couple of 9mm bullets, which were hurriedly handed off to Claire. Then, there was something small and blue glinting in the light, but it was pocketed away before Lea could look at it. “Nice,” Moira pulls out the discarded and surprisingly not dirty or rusted crowbar from behind a few boxes on the bottom shelf. “Blunt weapon. I can do blunt weapons.” Moira moved to the other side of the room, inspecting the bright blue graffiti on the wall. 

‘… What the fuck happened…’  Lea wondered to herself as she observed the pixie-haired girl walk over to the door, using the crowbar to rip off the nailed-on bar. 

‘… I need to step up and get my shit together…’  With a muffled but loud grunt, Moira ripped the bar off, breathing laboriously. 

“Lea,” Claire quietly called out, her voice slightly hoarse. Lea stopped, turning her clothed gaze towards the more experienced woman. “You know how to use a gun, right?” Lea’s gaze fell to the shotgun still in the older woman’s hands, the barrel pointed to the ground. 

“Oh, uh, yeah. My uncles and aunt taught me, but I only know basic shit.” Lea said awkwardly, bringing a hand to the nape of her neck to rub at it. “I’m fine with the shotgun. It’ll give me more distance.” Claire nodded, handing the gun and shells over to Lea. Claire moved to the door, motioning for the two younger women to stay close behind her. 

As soon as they pushed the door open, they were met with the menacing sight of flickering lights, blood stains drenching the walls and ground, and a lone figure dressed in something white and poofy. In an instant, Lea’s jaw dropped in horror as she processed that it was a little girl. Before anyone could react to the sight, the girl ran off, eerily silent. 

The three froze, staring ahead where the girl was for a long moment. Claire slowly started inching forward, the others shuffling behind her. 

“Clarie, you saw that, right?” Moira tentatively asked as the group turned the corner, careful not to step into the coagulated blood puddle. Rounding the corner, the dark hallway was nearly entirely silent, save for the rasping yet even breathing of dozens of probably more of those things. Were they resting? 

“Yeah, I saw… something.” 

“Something? That looked like a kid.” Lea snapped before remembering that the two couldn’t see as well in the dark as she could. “Fuck, I hope that’s not a kid. She doesn’t deserve this… no one deserves this.” Lea tacked on, feigning uncertainty as another rush of anxiety flowed through her veins. 

“Are you sure, Lea?” Claire paused, turning to face the teen, tone deadly serious yet unjudging. Lea inhaled sharply before nodding just as sharply. “Then we need to keep an eye out and bring her with us. No sudden movements, don’t yell, and stay calm.” Claire flicked her eyes between Lea and Moira, not moving until they both nodded or made affirming noises. 

Bizarrely enough, no child was in sight when the three crossed the next threshold. The prison door was sealed and barricaded with large metal crates. There were no crevices she could have hidden in, nor lockers or unlocked crates. After a moment, Claire sighed dejectedly as her cerulean eyes trailed over to a metal divider lifted just slightly so that someone could crawl underneath it. 

The group fell back into the routine of breaking the wooden boxes and searching the crevices between the metal crates. Luckily, the search yielded more ammo but did nothing to ease the dread settling in their guts. 

‘… There’s no way that kid is infected… too quiet… too good at hiding…. how long has she been here..?’  The thoughts rolled uneasily through Lea’s mind as Claire and Moira started to lift the metal divider to eye level. Lea quickly slid under the divider. She gripped the bottom edge of it, holding it up while the other two crossed over before letting the barrier slide down as quietly as possible. 

The horrid stench of dried, old excrement got more potent with each and every step up the stairs, making Lea gag under her breath. The rasping yet even breathing also got louder as they made their ascent, leaving no doubt in her mind that there were at least a dozen more of those poor bastards throughout this new area. 

When they reached the last step, Lea immediately recognized this area as an abandoned detention center. Like every other room in this hellscape, blood and dirt caked the walls and floor, though some stains appeared fresher. The stench of urine and fecal matter emanated from the locked solitary cells, strong enough to force Lea to breathe through her mouth to avoid its inescapable odor. The hanging lamps didn’t even flicker, so the only light source came from the tiny slivers of sunlight shining through the barred windows above. As Lea walked underneath one of the slivers of sunlight, she shivered in the minuscule warmth the feeble ray provided compared to the desolate prison. 

A familiar electronic screech from a radio filled the relative silence, shocking them to a halt, heads whipping around to find the source of the noise. 

“Fear what you will become and become what you fear.” A husky feminine voice languidly said, slightly distorted by the radio waves. Claire lifted her now orange wristband to her ear quizzically. 

‘… She’s the bitch… I can feel it in my bones…’

“Are you afraid? You can tell me. Talk to me.” The mysterious voice continued, taking on an almost hissing, cold tone. With every word the mysterious woman said, the more her suspicions started nibbling at the back of her mind.

‘… Why does she sound so familiar..?’

“Those bracelets change color in response to fear.” The voice cryptically trailed on, frustratingly holding only clues and yielding no answers. Even though Lea couldn’t see the face of their captor, she could envision the sadistic smile painting her lips. 

“And who exactly are you?” Claire demanded, not an ounce of fear in her tone. Eyes hard, lips pressed into a firm frown, Lea practically sees the fury rolling from the woman in waves. For a moment, she was envious of Claire’s fearlessness and collectedness. Why couldn’t she be like that?

“So much suffering… you don’t even know what to be afraid of yet.” Just as suddenly as the melodic voice had come, the voice went silent, leaving the three with even more questions as well as a palpable and undeniable atmosphere of annoyance. The more experienced woman rolled her eyes and started walking again. 

“Was she talking to us or at us?” Moira vented, rolling her eyes as the group entered the next room, a dark room lit by a singular fluorescent light in the corner, otherwise devoid of objects. 

“At us. She was definitely talking at us.” Lea concurred, walking over to the desk off to the side. Immediately, she took the map to the detention center before opening the drawers. She grimaced as she noticed that the drawers held nothing. “Here, found this,” Lea said, walking up to the leather-clad woman and handing the dirtied parchment over. For a moment, Claire said nothing nor moved, just stared again with an exhausted expression. 

Scrunching her eyebrows, Lea’s eyes traveled over to where Claire was staring. Immediately, she understood Claire’s expression. There was a path, possibly an exit, barred and locked off. Just next to the doorway were gears, clearly missing two vital parts. 

[rachelminetti]

harkive 6.20.23

yesterday and today have been the same day, alone and not in the mountains. still reeling from bonnaroo, i still feel it it my legs. i need to wash my hair and unpack my car. i didn't realize i could stay up that late, fully sober and fully alone, guided only by a tentative schedule and unrestrained impulse. i just wandered around for 3 days, dirty and hydrated and thinking only about what was immediately happening and sitting in the grass and applying sunscreen often enough. there were no barriers between me and the environment i was interacting with, just me and the place.

i was mainly blown away by just how much incredible music i heard over the three days, like truly just top notch quality musicians. i get so used to small diy shows, lo-fi recordings (which has extreme merit! and is brilliant and genuine) that i am taken aback when i see musicians perform their craft, expertly. rina sawayama, cory wong, STS9, my morning jacket, etc. listened to a great podcast interview with alana rocklin, the bassist for STS9 on the drive home on monday, like truly such a talented musician. that show fully changed me, i was hypnotized and extremely awake. looking forward to getting into their discography and live performances, to hopefully see them again at 4 in the morning.

i wasn't sure what to listen to right away, if it would be overkill to relive that music immediately. but it's what i ended up wanting, so i leaned into that. drove to work yesterday listening to photo id by remi wolf twice. she is going to change pop music. i listened to some of her other songs, which i enjoyed so thoroughly live.

once i got to work i picked a random playlist i had saved on spotify and landed on stereolab-ish by andrew corbett. whoever you are, you did great.

enjoyed the phenomenal handclap band, queued up some dip in the pool. found a cool website (https://www.fondsound.com), read the retinae review, the o boy by salon music review, then listened to it on youtube.

put my june 2018 playlist on shuffle during lunch, i'm ready to listen to it again. it exists in an entirely different context now, outside of tampa, outside of 21. so much of it is so tied to that time, i was back at the stoplight at westshore after getting off the howard franklin during an afternoon storm again listening to earth by giraffage. in the backseat on the way to san luis obispo while listening to the right thing by james supercave.

i was working through some open tabs back at work, reading about STS9, hexstatic, ambient pop music, music from memory, the siket disc by phish. accidentally landed on that phish album while searching for quadraphonics on spotify (which i read about in a youtube comment on the salon music album). ambient phish forever.

proceeded back to rotation 24 on spotify, i've set myself up with quite the mix.

added dyslectic by amber #2 from the these are testing times compilation by 555 recordings to my suuuuuuuper lowkey playlist, only song they have on spotify, let's see if i can find anything about them online. found this album on discogs and youtube and not much else.

been listening to thalia zedek and her band. debbie friedman core, very dykey and safe. like driving through the vermont countryside on an overcast evening in september. that 2002 camp counselor turtleneck kitchen island type feeling i only know how to describe in those terms. reunion, redemption, an event planned via a months long email chain. her cover of you're a big girl now is very much worth a listen. like waiting in the parking lot after whitewater rafting, a long bus ride back.

i flipped through june 2018 and rotation 24 for the rest of the evening and then ended the night with dryfruit by sugar plant, a delicious summer evening record to seal off the day.

i'll be going through this rotation playlist for the next few days, diving deeper into minimum chips, color filter, god street wine, and sts9. enjoying this post bonnaroo connection to music again.

[fevzenero]

Camping at Armichelle’s Haven

The date is 2023-01-28. I had a trip scheduled to Alfonso, Cavite. I was excited and anxious at the same time. I was excited because I got to use three items I have recently acquired for riding and also it would be the first time since I got to use 𝙺 𝙽 𝙸 𝙶 𝙷 𝚃 𝙼 𝙰 𝚁 ��� for an out of town ride. The last known ride that I can remember using said motorcycle was from 2017. I was anxious because it has been a long time since I have used it and I was thinking it would breakdown during my ride.

My friends were already there at the camp site since Friday. I went there on the second day, Saturday, since I still had work. I was advised to get a leave but I think I will have to use it for some other time.

I took off at around past 1000AM since I was also checking the weather in the early morning. I do not want to ride on a rainy day and fortunately, the weather that time was awesome. Everything seems to be going well, I hope.

Since that was the first time using my motorcycle for an out of town ride, I limited my speed to just around 60kph top speed. It was the right speed to feel the ride and also my ride all through out.

Everything went well as I planned to do stop overs to check on the engine but since it was doing fine, I only took one stop over just to be sure. I also stopped so that I could take a quick break and bought something to eat on a small store along the road.

There were a number of instances wherein I had to really slow down to 20kph or 40kph since it was abnormally windy that day, from Emilio Aguinaldo Highway to Tagaytay Nasugbu Highway in particular. The blow from the winds was strong enough to force me to move against on the other side of the road which is very dangerous since it was a long stretch and cars are not affected by the strong winds. I would end up smashing to some cars accidentally if that were to happen.

I finally reached Inusungan Road, only a few hundred meters to the camp site. I did some research of the roads since I was told that the camp site was located off road and Google Maps was not able to record or show the place in the map. It only recorded a portion of the small passable road to the place. Well, the images captured was from years ago and should have expected that it would be very different now.

The off road was not I expected it to be from what I have seen in the maps. My friends were so nice that they did not inform me of the struggle they had when they traversed said road. Just kidding. They knew if they informed me about it, I would not push through to with the trip. I recorded the road and apologies on the cursing, as I really did not expect that it was that bad. When I saw the road, I said to myself that I came a long way just for me to turn around and go home. I pushed with it since the place was just hundreds of meters away.

It took me 15 to 20 minutes before I reached the site. Good thing, I used this motorcycle since if I used my other motorcycle or the car, both will have their bottom parts be scrapped by the uneven road. 

The camp site was very nice and considerably huge, very different from the road that you should encounter before getting there. Was traversing that off road worth it because of the place? Maybe. I think so. If only they could do something about it.

I changed clothes immediately after I did a little bit of recording of the place. I forgot to mention, the weather was abnormally cool that day. Well Tagaytay was always known to be a cool place but all rides I made before this trip were sunny and hot. I would end up sweating heavily and have a number of change of clothes.

The place was definitely huge. You can build your tent anywhere. You can rent or you can bring your own. There are available platforms that can be put under your tent so that you won’t be having issues with the uneven ground. There were also small houses, which can accommodate two or three persons if you do not prefer tents to sleep in over the night.

Unfortunately, the skies were cloudy that time. My friends told me it was also the same yesterday and it even rained. Good thing I did not join them on their first day. I really hate the rain when I am out of the house, specially out of town.

They planned for a bon fire on site and the people there was able to entertain their request. They brought marshmallows to heat and pair it with grahams. I was skeptical at first on the taste of both but when I tried them, it was actually nice. I did gobble up three or four sets. I never knew that they tasted that good. It was my first time trying one.

So this is a picture of the group at the campsite. From left to right, that’s Ish (wife of Tos), me, JJ and Tos. Tos and his wife are the adventurous people of the group and JJ is surely the one being pulled to join. And me, I am just there to increase the number. HAHAHA! Just kidding, I also wanted to experience camping and joined them with their trip.

Here is me trying to heat the marshmallow so I can already spread it between grahams and gobble it up. Not really sure if what I was doing is correct as I do not know when is the marshmallow already ok to consume. I was concentrating on it so it will not fall when I end up heating it too much.

I believe the fire only lasted for less than an hour since the materials used to burn were only coconut husks, Sadly, we were not able to finish all the marshmallows and grahams.

We went to bed at around 1100PM since it’s getting kind of too cold outside. We have two tents available. One for Tos and Ish and the other was for JJ and me. Sleeping through the cold night was only a small part of the struggle, as I do shared the tent with JJ who is a bit of a loud snorer. I can’t really tell if the snoring was the reason I was not able to sleep all through out the night. I was able to sleep in the sleeping quarters of one of my previous employers where a lot of people there are loud snorers. Maybe the combination of the cold weather and not having a jacket, sleeping on the ground inside the tent and a snoring friend beside sleeping were some of the reasons, but I still was able to sleep after adjusting somehow.

There was nothing much to do the next day. More or less getting breakfast, chilling and packing up. Ish was the one doing all the cooking and the boys, we pretty much did the eating. Well we helped, kind of. I think.

The place was really great. The view was awesome at sun rise. I was not able to appreciate it on my first day since I was exhausted from the ride but it really is a nice place to camp. I do hope they fix the off road issue. It is the only thing I could think of them needing to fix.

We started packing up at around 1000AM. We were to meet at the Orient in Tagaytay Sta Rosa Highway since I was on my motorcycle and the three of them were in a car. I was able to witness on how they manage to get out of the place on that small uneven off road. It really was a struggle and I was also stressed looking at them even tho I was not the one driving.

Not really my thing, but camping recently made me interested. I already had experiences with sleeping in tents from beach getaways. Maybe because there were no heavy activities that had happened and we all just there chilling near the tent which is way more fun for me, in my opinion.

[venerex]

non-flat

pairing: joshua x gn!reader

word count: 1.2k

contains: sex descriptions (but no actual sex), reader has some unspecified medical conditions and body insecurities, descriptions of body shape and stretch-marks (might be a trigger for someone with weight-related insecurities)

a/n: writing this so i can hopefully sleep after. this isn't thought through and it sort of turned into something else, but i'm not mad about it. i never proofread, forgive any mistakes.

“something wrong?”

you open your eyes at joshua’s question, before cursing yourself internally and taking a deep breath, relaxing your body. 

you’ve been dating joshua for a while now (3 months, but who’s counting), and despite both of your busy schedules, you’ve managed to go on quite a lot of dates (13, but it’s not like you’re keeping count). and while you’ve been basically ready to jump him since he showed up at the new cat-themed cafe for your first date - looking rather delicious in simple jeans and a shirt that hugged him just right - he gave no hints of wanting something more. even when the topic of sex came up on the seventh date, he just said that he was in no rush and that you can have as long as you want. 

you’ve never been the one initiating sex, so you just smiled and kissed him - not sure how you could properly convey just how much you wanted to tear off the black turtleneck he had on. 

you finally gave in two days ago, and texted him if he wanted to spend the night with you after your next date. after some clarifications (let’s not get into how embarrassing it was for you to say that yes, it is about sex), it was decided - you and joshua hong would have sex after your date at the amusement park. 

you thought that maybe you ought to change the plan, think of something a little more romantic than rides that make you borderline nauseous and unhealthy snacks and juvenile games. you should’ve known that joshua would make any setting perfect. dates with your boyfriend have always left you giddy and wonderful - but even more so today, when he took every opportunity possible to wrap his arm around your shoulder, and kissed you every chance he got. you won a toy for him? a smiley thank-you kiss on your cheek. you’re nervous about a ride that he seems excited for? a kiss on your lips to assure you that he doesn’t mind not getting on it. you’ve got ketchup on the corner of your mouth? a kiss where he determinedly traces your lips with his tongue. 

needless to say, his insistent touchiness and knowing looks only built up the anticipation even more, and you almost cheered out loud when he asked if you were ready to leave. 

given his behavior throughout your relationship, you thought joshua might be rather tentative in bed - unsure and apprehensive, scared about doing the wrong thing. you could not have been more wrong. 

as he was throughout your relationship, you suppose you should’ve expected him to be sure and attentive - his keen eyes taking in your reaction while his fingers and lips explored your body. the confidence took you by surprise, your moans in response only spurred on by his borderline cocky “yeah, baby? like this?” every time you writhed under his touch. 

he was attentive later too, wrapping his arms around you and asking you if you were feeling alright, placing kisses on your face and murmuring about how the two of you should’ve done this much sooner. “i agree”, you had replied, “i was waiting for you, but got too impatient”. he giggled. you’re sure you’re in love. 

which brings you to the present, with joshua’s hand resting on your stomach, his legs tangled with yours. your body had tensed instinctively at the action. 

despite the many medical conditions it has, you don’t really dislike your body, not really. sure, it sucks to have chronic pain and to know that you can’t help how the results of some diseases show up in your appearance - it’s still your body, and while it’s not perfect, it still performs most tasks it needs for a fulfilling life. 

you don’t dislike your body, but that doesn’t mean you’re immune from insecurities. your skin is littered with stretch marks and you’ve never been thin - and while both of those things are completely normal, the plain “flawless” bodies on the internet have a way of creeping up in your brain (even though you try to avoid that thinking). 

your nerves earlier were outmaneuvered by your need for joshua and his breathless praises, but it’s different now. the two of you aren’t consumed by lust now, and his hand is on your very non-flat stomach. he had noticed your nervous reaction, ever the attentive man. 

stretch marks are normal, non-flat stomachs are normal, insecurities are normal. but fuck, sometimes you wish you didn’t have any of them. 

“oh, it’s nothing”, your answer comes out strangled. 

“what is it?”, he asks again, concerned eyes looking at you, “are you hurt? did i -”

“no”, you shake your head, “it’s nothing like that, really”.

“then?”

“well, i -”, you take a deep breath, feeling hyper-aware of his hand on your stomach, “your hand”.

“what about it?”

“my stomach. it’s not flat”.

joshua blinks, his thumb rubbing your skin soothingly.

“so?”

“so?”, you echo, “well, that’s - “, you swallow, “never mind”. 

you never should’ve said anything. this isn’t a conversation you want to have naked, not after the first time you’ve had sex with your boyfriend. 

“no, tell me”, he’s insistent. he’s not going to let this go.

“so”, you answer, “it’s not exactly hot, yknow? not very attractive”.

“what?”, he sounds genuinely bewildered.

you’re sure he knows what you’re talking about. he’s an idol, for god’s sake. he knows how bodies are perceived, he gets subjected to it all the time.

“oh, come on”, you snort, and it comes out with an edge, “you’re an idol, you know what i’m talking about. flat stomachs are considered hotter. i’m not saying it’s right to think so, but -”

“no, it’s not right to think so”, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so worked up, “and i’m an idol, which is why i know how fucking stupid this is. how your stomach looks has nothing to do with how hot you are”.

“okay”, you say softly, “i’m sorry”.

“no - baby”, one hand reaches to cup your face, attentive eyes meeting yours, “why are you apologizing? you didn’t do anything wrong”.

“no, i know. i don’t really believe in this stuff either, but sometimes it - “, you stop, unable to find words. 

“it creeps in”, he finishes, “i understand. it’s okay”.

“yeah”, you give him a half smile.

“well, just in case it isn’t clear”, his hand rests on your stomach again, squeezing slightly, “i like all of you. you’re pretty fucking hot”.

“josh”, you roll your eyes but smile giddily, your arms wrapping around him as you return the kiss he places insistently on your lips. the hand on your stomach moves to squeeze your butt, and your squeal into the kiss, his grin turning into a gasp as your skin makes contact with his erection.

“again, already?”, you whisper against his lips. 

“i don’t know if i told you, but i’ve thought about this for a really long time”, he hitches one of your legs over his, his lips trailing kisses to your jaw, “and you’re pretty fucking hot”.

[ronearoundblindly]

Whattt I just read the Mr and Mrs Smith thing and I loved it it was so frkn good!! love the movie too . It made me think of Tony and Peppers dynamic so if you'll like an au could we get the girl Friday thing where Stevie is more of an idiot than usual, they are pretty smart as individuals but they both share one brain cell when they're together still she puts out all his fires I think it'll be nice to have someone do that for Steve as opposed to Steve always doing that for ppl.

CEO!Steve x assistant!reader (see series)

This got way longer than I intended, but it took everything in me to minimize this to a one-shot (well that f***ing escalated! It's a three-parter now). 😂 Warnings for zero editing and drinking. Non-powered, modern AU btw. This part is ~2.5k

Eighty-Third Time's the Charm (1 of 3 yeah, yeah, it's 4 + a 5pt follow up now, haha, joke's on me): WORK

Steve’s been the logistic coordinator for Stark Industries since Tony took over for Howard. Howard hired Steve to acquire and transport materials for his early projects, and Steve’s own business grew from there. He now handles most of the further distributors for Stark Tech across the globe, and you’re his secretary.

Assistant.

Right hand.

Ok, well, maybe both of Steve’s hands and his mouth because his brain is already doing ninety things at any given moment. He needs a lot of help, and that takes time. Unreasonably lengthy amounts of time that can (and do frequently) span more than the average working and waking day.

You’re happy to do it. You love the work. It’s a challenge in quantity, not quality, and most of the men (because it is almost entirely men) who you deal with are happy to do as they are told when you smile and make them feel heard.

Really, the only challenge is to smile that much in person and on video calls. You never thought you’d be so excited to handle something by email every now and again.

Trip #83 with Steve Rogers takes you both three days overnight to a big city not far from where you grew up. You even have a few school friends who live in town, and you’ve made very tentative plans to see an old high school flame if the schedule permits, which it just barely seems to as the clock inches past 6:37.

Those 7 o’clock drinks can’t pour themselves fast enough.

In your hotel room, you’ve just shed the professional pant suit for light, breezy dress (something both easy to wear and easy to pack) and are in the process of typing out a confirmation of the restaurant when the call waiting comes up.

Steve.

“Hey, where is the contract for Sauters’?”

“We confirmed it all with them before the flight here, boss. Why—“

“I want the language changed to reflect payment before they take possession. They’re delinquent again. I’m not gonna allow them to keep profiting off of our efficiency while they sit with a thumb up their butts.”

“Sir, it really would be more impactful if you just said asses. I don’t think your mum is going to hunt you down for that.”

“Absolutely not. Ok, room 1512, bring the copy and patch in legal.”

“Wait, boss, I—“

The boop boop boop lets you know you’ve been hung up on, and you’re about to pass the feeling on to cute Jimmy from fourth period senior english. Damn. You rewrite the text and send your apologies.

Steve’s all in a flourish, head run amuck with little things to change here and there in the 26-page agreement. It all takes another three and a half hours. He had room service delivered, has poured you both a splash of something from the mini bar, and finally, finally sits down and looks at you.

“What is that,” he blurts.

It takes a moment to figure out what he means.

“A dress, sir. I…I was…I’d made plans for drinks with a friend.”

“Here?”

“I grew up about an hour away, yeah.”

He swirls his drink around, not admitting—though it’s painfully clear—that he had no idea you weren’t from New York. He looks at his watch for the first time all day.

“Ah, I suppose apologies are in order for…” He waits for his bait to catch.

“Jim,” you slowly add. “Don’t worry. I let him know the instant you called. I’ve met you. I knew how this would go.”

How much of this scotch did you sip all at once? You don’t normally talk to Steve—Mr. Rogers— like that, but he seems good and chastised for a moment, draining his tumblr in one go and returning to the bar.

“Well, I can’t replace Jim—“ he spikes the name with sharp tone you’ve never heard before “—but I can offer you a drink here.” His gaze, once it finds yours after dragging up your legs, is expectant and intent. It’s the first time he’s ever waited for an answer from you that he didn’t already know before asking.

It’s also the first time you aren’t quite sure you understand what Steve is asking. Eighty-three trips in and countless hours with the man, and this is the least prepared you’ve ever felt.

“Already had mine, sir.” You set your empty glass down on the small table between you. “We have a long day tomorrow, or rather, I do, but I’ll be sure to inform you when the Sauters are settled.”

It’s just instinct to smooth the front of your dress when you stand, but the rake of Steve’s eyes forced down you by the move completely throws you.

“I’m sorry you wasted an outfit,” he adds, quietly, too low and deep to not sharply flame a heat that sparks out of nowhere in your gut.

“Right.” You gather up your things. “No great loss. It’ll keep. If that’ll be all, boss?”

When your eyes return across the room, Steve’s standing there with an empty little bottle still tilted over his glass. He’s just staring, lost in thought about god-knows-what.

“Get some sleep,” he mutters absently.

“Of course.”

You pour your own drink from your room’s mini bar and take a long bath. You’ve been up since 5am in order to get you and Mr. Rogers to the airport in time. That’s what you blame your runaway thoughts on. You do everything for that man. You know practically everything about that man. You know that he hasn’t gone on any sort of social date in at least seven months (a fact even his mother calls to remind you of), and you know that Tony takes him out to gentleman’s clubs and has women serve them at all their joint business dealings.

You have literally sat beside Pepper Potts and joked about this while watching Tony get a lap dance and Steve chat up a waitress. Why your mind still entertains those thoughts after all you know is beyond human understanding, and after a day like today, you can hardly categorize yourself as human.

You need the rest for sure.

You’re already back on the phone by breakfast time, consuming strong tea and a croissant bite-by-bite while the American Capsules’ legal discusses the changes with SauterCorp’s legal.

Line-by-fucking-line.

You knew this would happen. It’s why you told them to start early. Of course, the team members you are on the phone with are different ones from last night because those folks worked late and are off work to make up for the overtime. You’re breathing in the smell of your drink with closed eyes like it’ll mainline the caffeine up your sinuses to your brain.

When you open your eyes, Steve’s pulling out the chair in front of you, ordering his own breakfast and motioning for a fresh pot of tea. He says nothing while you work.

Plates of food arrive and Steve reads the paper, glancing up every so often when you write a note to yourself about a follow-up after the call. After a while, he pushes a plate of scrambled eggs towards you and flips over a fork for you to take. He doesn’t take no for an answer, but since the call is finally wrapping up, you oblige and wolf down a few bites before typing out an email of your notes.

Steve asks a few questions of his own while refreshing both cups of tea and not bothering to offer sugar for yours. You…weren’t aware he knew that about you.

Until the car comes in an hour to get you to your next meeting, there’s nothing on the agenda, but you fully expect Steve to cram in a breakdown of the afternoon. Instead, he sips tea and folds the paper round and round until he’s done with all his interesting bits. You get to people watch, pedestrians outside the floor to ceiling windows of the hotel’s café bustling past in both directions.

Your attention is brought back when the table is cleared off, but Steve is no longer focused on the paper or the people. He sits and watches you again.

You smile as politely as you can even though you feel pinned down in the stare. “We better get going,” you advise, packing your things away.

Steve does put down his cup but doesn’t move otherwise.

“It’s your color.” He squints just slightly at his own revelation, relaxing back into his chair. “The dress.”

You have to swallow and clear your throat at that. “Yes, I suppose it’s one of my favorite colors.”

“It suits you.”

There’s no irony. Steve simply looks at you, blinks, looks some more, and it’s like you accidentally sat down naked in the lobby. His blue eyes are just that piercing.

“Thank you,” you say out of habit more than understanding and hurry on with the day.

It pours down rain for most of the afternoon, drenching your shoes as you traipse back and forth to the car with Steve. You have an umbrella, but nothing stops the puddles invading.

“I can’t do this,” you finally snap on the way back to the hotel. You’re on the verge of tears. The sides of your leather heels have rubbed the back of one ankle and the top outside of the other foot raw, almost/possibly bloody. It takes effort to peel them off your skin, and you hiss in pain.

Steve sits across the backseat completely horrified.

“I know, I’m so sorry. I’ll put them back on—“

Steve puts a hand out to stop you.

“Driver,” he calls, “is there a first aid kit back here? No, no, we just need a few bandaids.” The reassurance cuts off panic from the front, and after the click of the glove compartment sounds, a small box is offered through the window. Steve thanks him.

“I can do it, sir. Please don—“

That stare pins you again, and there’s dead silence in the back while your boss rips open a few wipes, cleans the blistered skin, dabs antibiotic ointment on the broken parts, and smooths the coverings overtop. You can’t help but notice how tender his touch is, but he’s just being thoughtful. It doesn’t mean anything.

As Steve returns to his seat (after it feels like a struggle to break eye contact), he gets a call.

His friend Bucky Barnes is in town, too, on a quick layover before a transatlantic flight and long business trip. The two don’t get to talk as much as they’d like, and you know they don’t see each other very often either.

“Of course, we’ll do dinner, Buck. Name the place.”

We will do what now?

You start waving your hands and miming towards your feet.

Steve eyes you a second. “No, right, I will meet you there in—driver, how long is it to Chinatown from the hotel? Yeah, so about an hour from now? Excellent.”

You might have interpreted that wrong. He meant ‘we’ as in him and Bucky, no doubt. In case he didn’t though…

“Shall I call and make reservations for you two?”

“He’s handling it. Traveling with a few associates who know the area and the restaurant.”

“It’s a good one. You can dress down there.”

Steve offers a ghost of a smile as he looks down at his layers of clothing, pondering. He glances at your bandaged feet and looks like he’ll say something before shucking off his coat, and then his suit jacket, and then his vest.

Without a word, you hold out your arm to take the unnecessaries back upstairs.

“You don’t have to,” Steve all but whispers.

He’s never questioned using your service. Ever. He tosses the clothes onto the back-facing seats across the car and undoes the first two buttons beneath his tie. The car stops at the entrance just as he pulls the tie loose.

Shoes in one hand, briefcase slung over your shoulder, you sigh loudly and hold out your hand again very close to his face.

Steve drapes the tie across your palm.

“Have a good dinner, sir.”

You collect the rest and walk in barefoot. You don’t look back.

Next Part Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi

Again, full disclosure: I have never seen the movie His Girl Friday. Just going off a synopsis and running away with it, but now that I've PLOTIFIED the whole damn thing, you're getting three cute-ass chapters *and you'll like it* bwahahahahaha

divider by @firefly-graphics

[darthmaulification]

for the request, something involving darth maul and alien senses? maybe he likes to look at reader in a nearly dark room where they can't see how fond his expression is but he can still see them clearly, or how his hearing and smelling is far more acute than a humans.

A/N: ... so... back to the regularly scheduled program... totally doesn’t feel like a very strange 180...

my last posts/reblogs have been very political, so if you didn’t follow me for that sort of thing, i get it, but also this is my blog, and i’m politically active irl, and politics are dumb but important, especially with what’s been going on in america.

it’s rough on my mental health and general wellbeing, so i tried to distract myself by finishing up this request from... months ago. oops. 😬

hope you enjoy! kiitos! 💗

content: fluff/general, gn!reader, alien biology (sight and smell/taste), established relationship, stranded in space, slightly suggestive, sharing a bed

word count: 1,849

sight

In an instant, the ship is plunged into darkness.

It’s disorienting, almost dizzying, the way that in one moment you could see, and the next you couldn’t. The lights that went out were the ship’s last, the old space freighter that Maul and you... co-opted having taken some damage in the skirmish with the Weequay pirates that once controlled it. Launching into hyperspace in this rust bucket had been a poor decision, you surmised, and you thought of Maul who absolutely knew you were right when you previously advised him not to.

Now, the ship, with Maul and you trapped within it’s metal walls, floats somewhere in deep space, so deep there’s no visible stars, far away from any planet...

And in complete, utter darkness. The pitch black feels consuming, oppressive, and you blink rapidly but nothing changes— only the warmth on your eyeballs shifts. There’s a shuffle of fabric and metal clanking from somewhere around you, and you swivel your head in the direction you think the noise came from.

“Maul?” You call out, taking a single, tentative step because before the ship had lost full power, you had been unlucky enough to be up from the copilots chair and halfway across the cockpit. He doesn’t reply, there’s no other noise, and you strain to listen— practically hearing the blood pump in your veins, your own breathing, your heartbeat. Everything is amplified with your sense of sight stripped, everything is practically tangible.

“Maul?” You say his name again, growing increasingly uncomfortable with his silence, eyes darting uselessly and seeing nothing. It also feels as though your voice sounds louder in the inky blackness, reverberates more effectively off hidden metal walls. Maker, it’s impressive— This isn’t your average, everyday darkness— this is advanced darkness. You frown, shuffling and almost stumbling over your own feet.

“Maul, I’m serious. You better not be mes—” Two large, warm hands grab each of your forearms and pulls a small shriek from your lips. Heart racing, Maul responds with a low chuckle— from directly in front of you— and his presence, the heat of him, becomes so prominent it’s almost overwhelming. Your thoughts go wild: How long has he been there? How was he so quiet? How did he know exactly where you—

“Easy, my dear.” He purrs, teasingly, and one of his hands releases your arm, and you tense lightly when it reappears at your hip. You’re quick to relax, especially when Maul’s thumb rubs circles over your pants, occasionally hooks in your belt loop. Lips curling up in a quirked smile, your brows furrow when Maul chuckles under his breath.

“Maker, you are cruel!” You laugh, reaching up and smacking his chest, though your aim is off and you think you clip the edge his shoulder instead. It’s at that moment— your hands clumsily grasping at his chest, his tunic, fingers splaying and toying— that you look up, and in the infinite shadows you’re able to see one thing— or technically two:

Maul’s eyes.

Yes, his eyes— twin yellow orbs sitting directly where his eyeline would be when he stands, twin flames in the dark. They glow, the fiery yellows and oranges stand out against the inky backdrop, superimposed via the right of soft, amber light that emits from them. Of course— Dathomir, Zabraks, night vision.

“Hello.” Maul drawls, and he blinks, the phantasmal flames of his irises disappearing for a split second, then reappearing— his pupils ablaze. Mirth dances in them, his expression so clearly that mix of smug and prideful he gets when he’s acting mischievous.

“Hi.” You reply softly, smiling when Maul cups your cheek, the pad of his thumb grazing along your bottom lip. He lightly lifts your chin, tilting your head side to side curiously, toying with you like a Loth cat would it’s prey. His blistering gaze goes dewy, his eyelids falling halfway and skewing the glow. Maul’s warm thumb passes your lips again, and this time you kiss it. You can see the smile in his stare.

“Mm... how screwed do you think we are?” You inquire, half serious, half-joking, mostly because you’re too lost in the tenderness to really care. Maul shrugs under your palms, and his eyes close (again) then open (again) and it’s so visceral how you’re able to watch them flicker— Like candle lights or will-o’-the-wisps.

“Decently. Savage might know where we are.” Maul deadpans, and you know you’ll both have plenty of time to somewhat panic later (especially when the cold of space starts to seep at the ship), but for now you’re able to find solace in each other. Maul leans in and kisses your smiling cheek, then pulls back and turns towards the transparisteel canopy of the cockpit. Just beyond the glass, the inky black of starless infinity sits in wait.

“Well, then...” You start, taking a couple cautious steps towards Maul and his blistering eyes, “That just means we have some... us time.”

Although you can’t see it, Maul’s face splits into a wolfish grin, and as you reach his arms, it grows and reaches his eyes which flash like a supernova. Maul seizes you by your waist in the darkness, and a squeal escapes you when he lifts you up into his arms. Then, a heated kiss is pressed to your collar bone, teeth pulling and gnashing at the fabric of your shirt as Maul’s frenzied lips pull away.

“Oh, indeed.” And his mouth then falls on yours, all tongue and passion with hardly any care for the world. Your face warms, and you succumb to the heat of Maul, all his shadows, and his twin flames.

~

scent (+ taste)

The balcony curtains sway gently in the breeze, the soft rose light of early morning on Mandalore spilling into the suite. Sunbeams touch your closed eyes, and with a groan, you turn and dig your face into the plush pillow beneath your head. Silken sheets and a soft mattress beckon you back to the clutches of sleep, but besides you, your lover stirs as well.

Maul groans, then sighs low out his nose with a deep exhale, and then goes quiet. You smile into your pillow, not bothering to open your eyes to see that Maul’s awake, his stare on you. It’s so strong, even after just waking, that you can feel it prickle your skin. Goosebumps raise, hairs stand on end, and the bed dips as Maul purrs, “Good morning, my dear.”

Two warm hands press on your back, kneading your muscles and gliding up and down your spine. You make a noncommittal noise, opting to play the long game that both you and Maul enjoy. When you don’t offer any further response, Maul growls lightly and in your head you can practically see the pout of a sneer on his face.

“Good morning, my dear.” Maul repeats with a bit more force, though there’s no bite to his words. Testing your luck, you make a soft grunt again and Maul’s hands freeze on your sides, then squeeze your plush. It’s the long game, the fun one that all too often you and Maul play— pushing boundaries and pressing buttons. Anything to ruffle each other’s feathers, all in good fun of course.

Maul catches on soon enough, because then the wetness of a tongue slides it’s way up the center of your back to your earlobe, leaving a slick trail in it’s wake.

“Maul!” You cry out his name with a muffled laugh into the pillow, arching your back at the sensation, and jokingly squeal, “Gross!”

“Wake up then, my dear, my love— my light of lights.” Maul growls playfully, his nose pressed on your hairline, nuzzling and nipping at your ear. One of his horns grazes the side of your head, catching in your hair, and then the weirdest sensation of air pulling upwards causes you to tense. Maul then sighs, his breath warm on your skin, and then another suck of air, then an exhale, and it’s then you realize Maul is sniffing you.

“What are you doing?” You ask for clarification, shivering when Maul drags his nose deeper into your hair, nuzzles, and inhales deeply. The goosebumps on your skin spread, the feeling ticklish and odd, but not entirely unwelcome. Especially because Maul seems to be enjoying what he’s doing, hence his satisfied purrs and the slight grin you can practically see on his face.

“You smell nice.” Maul replies simply, dragging his nose the length of the column of your neck. He settles at the junction of your jaw, nuzzling in deeper, the small horn at his temple brushing against your earlobe. It pokes your skin, and you smile, but then you think about what he’s said, and your brow furrows.

“I probably smell like sleep and ‘in need of a shower’.” You speak through giggles, tilting your head best you can into the pillow to allow Maul better access to your neck. He hums in reply, nipping and sniffing at the skin under your jaw, his nose pressed along your pulsing jugular. By now, he’s near completely atop you, his hands plastered at your sides, holding himself above you. It takes some effort, but you manage to roll over on to your back, shuffling within the silk sheets.

“Mm... I disagree. You smell like you— Which is to say, like desire, heaven, and ambrosia.” Maul murmurs, lowering himself so that his muscular body is almost flush with yours, acting like a living weighted blanket. One of his arms slithers under your waist, tugging you up slightly as his hand plants firm on your side.

“Really now?” You sigh, eyes fluttering shut when Maul’s warm lips plant lazy, wet kisses on your neck, traveling down to your collar bones where he sucks a mark on the center of your chest. Maul can’t seem to get enough of you, his mouth and nose wild in their mission to mark and claim and scent every inch of skin he can reach. Minutes pass of just Maul sniffing you down, rubbing his scent on you, licking, biting, kissing. By the time he answers, your head is fuzzy with arousal, and you can barely open your eyes to stare all dewy-eyed up at him.

That wicked, wolfish grin on that crimson face of his greets you, as do Maul’s molten eyes. You watch his tongue lackadaisically glide over his lips, wetting them. Maul looks ravaged, wild-eyed and dizzying, practically drunk off your scent. Behind him, the light of the morning casts a glow around his head and makes his crown of horns look like a halo.

“You render me insatiable.” Maul growls, and then his head dips back to your body, nose to the skin above your heart where he smells you, and your heartbeat, and the blood that pulses in your veins and runs hot in your flesh. A gasp escapes you, arms drawing him in to the aura of you— all good, all pure, and outside the sun is beaming, and the breeze carries the essence of you and Maul to the heavens.

[stormkobra-5]

Heya its me again um you can completely ignore this request if its too much but um

Can i request (only if you are able to) the moonknight boys helping y/n grieving over losing a family member

I lost a family member today and would like some comfort you can ignore this request if its too much

Sorrow and Solace

Pairing: Moon Boys x Reader

Fic Type: Drabble

Summary: When you lose a family member, the boys are there to offer you any comfort they possibly can.

A/N: I'm honored you came to me of all people, nonnie. I hope I can write something good enough for this situation and helps you, buddy. I'm so sorry for your loss. I wish you all the love and comfort in the world.

Rating/Warnings: Dealing losing a family member (unspecified), processing grief, hurt/comfort

It was Marc fronting when you got the call.

He walked into the kitchen to find you holding your phone in a daze, frozen as your mind tried to process what you'd just heard. It was painful, this searing, dull grief. It rose up in your chest unexpectedly, like it had been an animal lying in wait, and lunged for your heart, tearing with icy claws.

Marc noticed your stance immediately. "...Babe? Everything okay?"

You didn't respond immediately, still processing the information. The loss of a family member is a life-changing event, and it surged up out of nowhere. You stagger into Marc's touch when he tentatively reaches for you. "...Baby? You okay?"

You burst into soft sobs, falling into his chest. He held you tightly and close, prepared for some unseen threat. "Hey, hey... Sh, sh, sh..." Rocking you in his arms, he maneuvered you to the couch, bringing you up onto his lap and cradling you in a snug embrace. With a glare that could have killed, he eyed your phone, which was laying on the floor where you'd dropped it, as if it were an enemy.

"Oy, what's happening?" Steven roused himself in the headspace clumsily, tripping over Jake. Their alter cursed in Spanish, trying to wrestle Steven down in their roughhousing way of communicating-- honestly, they were like rowdy misbehaved toddlers, and that was the very last thing you needed right now.

"Guys," Marc said softly as he rubbed your back, trying to hide his irritation. Once they heard your quiet sobs into his shoulder, felt the tight grip of your fists in his shirt, they immediately sprung to their feet and raced to see what was wrong with you.

"You wanna tell us what happened, mi vida?" Jake whispered softly in your ear as he took control of the body, brushing strands of tear-dampened hair out of your face. He pressed soft and tender kisses to your jaw, your temple, your forehead, trying to coax you into telling them what was wrong.

"I-I... um..." You tried to wipe your tears away with a shaky hand. "I-I just got some bad news..."

The boys stiffened, starting to understand. "You wanna talk about it?" Marc offered gently.

A part of you, in your grief-stricken mind, was comforted. It was rare for the boys to co-front, stubborn as they were-- literally, it's-my-turn-with-the-body kind of arguments have occurred and now they stick to a strict fronting schedule-- so usually they now only co-fronted if something extremely dire was happening, and the fact that they considered your well-being in that category was flattering.

"I-I just... um..." You swallowed hard, trying to manage to speak through your sobs enough to translate the reason for your current state. "I just found out that I lost somebody... I just lost somebody in my family."

Steven was the one who fronted then, mouth forming an 'o' of realization. "Oh, love..." He pulled you in to his embrace, kissing the top of your head and cradling you close.

They didn't want to say it's okay. They know that right now, it's not, it's far from, and instead of trying to push your feelings away, they think that you should perhaps let them process. Maybe its okay isn't what you need to hear, but maybe just a shoulder to cry on until it is okay.

"We're here for you, darling," Steven said, kissing your head. "We're right here for you."

Jake fronted, grabbing you by your waist and lifting you up a bit so that he could look you in the eyes. "What do you need us to do, mi vida?"

"Just..." You sniffled, falling back into him. "Just hold me for a little while, okay?"

"We can do that," Jake assured you, rubbing up and down your back. "We're gonna help you through this, mi vida."

Marc switched to the front, readjusting your position so that you were kind of laying on him across the couch. "We're gonna be here for you every step of this process, baby."

"Whatever you need, we're here, dove," Steven added, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

And they held true to that. They made sure that you remembered to eat, but if you couldn't stomach it, they made you drink water-- you drank so much water, it probably more than made up for all the tears you were shedding. They made sure you slept, and they called your work to get you a week or two off to process things more clearly. They stood by your side at the funeral, offering condolences to family members and respect for who was lost.

Every night, or really, any time you cried, they held you in their arms and lulled you to sleep. Sometimes they would sing or read to you, or try to make you laugh. And the day you finally smiled again, you don't think you'd ever seen them beam brighter. "Life keeps going, love," Steven told you one day, "It might hurt sometimes, and it might be hard, especially losing someone; but it keeps going. It doesn't wait for us. We'll meet everyone we've lost again one day, don't you worry. In the meantime, though, we have to stop and smell the roses, so to speak. Smile. That’s what we’re put here to do, innit? To love and laugh?”

“I know,” You said as you held onto him as if for dear life, nestling your head in his sweater-clad chest. “Thank you, guys. For being here for me.”

“Always,” Marc answered into your hair. “Now and forever.”

“We’ll never let you go through anything alone, mi vida,” Jake promised, pulling a blanket up over your shoulders. “You’re never alone. Remember that.”

————————————————————————

I hope this has comforted you, nonnie. I hope you do okay, and just remember we’re all here for you.

[apompkwrites]

in your arms || aether, bennett, chongyun

masterlist characters: aether, bennett, chongyun genre: fluff summary: in which their s/o is in desperately need of cuddles. notes: ah i miss cuddles :(( if you can't tell from how i write cuddling, i'm big on physical affection like hugs and stuff. can't do that now tho :( also, hun is a petname i use like... all the time. idk man, i just really like it :D

aether -

i feel like this boy gives some of the best cuddles.

i like to think he's the "older" twin out of the two.

on the coldest nights of their adventures, him and lumine would cuddle up next to each other next to a fire to keep warm (platonically of course).

if you're in teyvat after he's lost his sister, he'd put everything into those cuddles.

he misses her so much and he hates the idea that one day, you'll be gone too.

although he held high statuses in both mondstadt and liyue, aether still preferred to camp outside the city limits.

something about the calm and quiet outdoors brought peace to the otherworldy traveler.

and you never really minded it.

as long as you were able to be next to him, you were content with any living condition.

luckily, it never really affected your nightly cuddles with the blond :)

one day you both split up to handle separate commissions, right?

one brought him all the way to mondstadt while yours required you to head to liyue.

this commission, however, was one you didn't particularly enjoy.

it wasn't because you couldn't handle, because of course you could.

in fact, it was purely because of the neverending stress building on top of you.

so once your commission was complete, you definitely were in need of some good ol' aether cuddles.

you waited for him by your usual spot, the aching feeling in your chest growing more unbearable as time went on.

until eventually--

"(name)! sorry, did you wait long?"

"we brought you some food to make up for it!"

the familiar voices of of your beloved traveler and his emergency food companion called out to you from down the path.

aether was running over to you with paimon in tow.

and you, desperately wanting to wrap your arms around him, ran over to him and met him halfway down the path.

before he could talk again, you had already jumped into him and were squeezing him as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

"wh-whoa! (name)?"

instinctively, he'd wrap his arms around you.

he wouldn't need to ask about how your commission was, he could already tell by how tight your grip was around him.

"c'mere."

he'd pat his hands on your legs, signalling for you to jump up into his arms.

and, of course, you do.

he still needs to set up your tent and all, but he doesn't want to let you go either...

next best plan? just build the tent with you in his arms.

it'd take him longer than it normally would since he was busy holding you, but he'd get it done.

paimon definitely wants to tease the two of you, but she'll save that for tomorrow when you're feeling better :)

once paimon disappears to wherever she goes, it's just you and aether in your tent beneath the moonlight.

you're both accustomed to the hard floor beneath your tent, but that never mattered.

all that mattered was that the two of you were together.

if you're still awake, he'll whisper some stories of how his day was and what happened during his commission.

i like to think his go-to position for cuddling would be the honeymoon hug?

i mean, like i said before, cuddling is something that reassures him that you won't be leaving anytime soon.

so something like that type of cuddling where your both holding each other is his absolute favorite.

but if you're in need of comfort, he'd be laying on his back with you on top of him, his arms wrapped around your waist and hugging you close to him.

he likes to talk to you, surprisingly.

i mean, we've seen how quiet this boy is.

but with you, he'll talk to you even after you've fallen asleep.

"i know today's been kind of rough on you, hun... i hope just being here with me, holding you close to me, is enough to help comfort you."

bennett -

bennett... has absolutely no experience in cuddling whatsoever.

you'd have to be the one to help him out.

he's always afraid something will go wrong due to his bad luck that he's tried his best to stay away from intimate things like that.

plus, he's also very energetic and jittery so cuddling isn't something that's crossed his mind to begin with.

you'd be the one to show him all of the different positions you could do, include those where you're just sitting next to each other.

he's definitely touchy since he's never experienced this before.

still kinda hesitant though because of his luck ://

he needs a lot of reassurance from you before he even thinks about fully cuddling in his sleep.

in fact, a lot of the time it'd be you who's cuddling him after a bad day.

i think his favorite position before fully allowing himself to cuddle would be ones with lingering touches.

like a simple arm slung over the shoulder and your legs crossing each others' in your sleep.

those small gestures.

but once he's used to cuddling...

he loves the idea of having you hold onto him while sleeping.

kinda like the sweetheart cradle with you being the one to hold him.

he just needs that reassurance that you're okay with him and his luck won't do anything to change that.

but sometimes you need to be cuddled too.

you're day has been rough, what with the countless things you needed to do that day (be it because of procrastination, schedule mishaps, etc.)

you'll head towards the adventurer's guild in search of bennett.

his dads all know you, of course, so whoever meets up with you takes him to wherever he is.

you wouldn't need to say a lot to bennett for him to know something's up.

probably just a small hum or murmur would be enough to clue him in.

you'd drape yourself over his back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and digging your nose into his neck.

he'd jump for a moment, thinking someone else knocked into him because of his luck.

but then he realizes you and he relaxes.

he'd bring his hands up to rub your arm, hearing your muffled whines as he does so.

his dads would already notice you're having a bad day, so they don't say anything that'll disturb you two.

honestly? bennett would probably want to cuddle with you right then and there.

he's not one to get embarrassed too quickly, so he wouldn't mind.

but his dads bring up a good point that you both should probably be resting in an appropriate bed instead of the floor or a bench.

so the two of you would head home as soon as you could!

bennett would talk your ear off about his adventures that day.

if you don't wanna talk, he can do enough for the both of you!

anyway, you'd both head home and jump into bed as soon as you can.

he'd instinctively go to your standard position but then he remembers that you're in need of some well deserved cuddles.

so instead, he'll be the one to hold you close.

he'd let you rest your head on his shoulder or chest.

you could trace the scars running up and down his arms.

he'd rub your back lightly while talking about his adventures again.

he'd tell you tales of the mare jivari he's heard.

and when you're off to sleep, the stress leaving your system, he'd continue to rub his hand along your back.

"how about tomorrow we go on an adventure? just me and you. we could do whatever we want to get your mind off of things..."

chongyun -

this poor boy doesn't cuddle a lot!!!

he's gotta stay cold, y'know?

as much as he'd love to just wrap his arms around you all night, he can't...

but he will try!

he'd definitely try to push himself near the beginning of the relationship.

i'm talking forcing himself to cuddle all night, no matter how hot it gets.

but, as the loving s/o you are, you tell him that it's okay he can't do the full body cuddles like other people.

but he still wants that touch, even if it's a little.

his cuddles are the ones where only a certain body part is touching the other.

like his arm is up against yours or your legs are touching.

those types.

he feels bad he can't do more though :((

he for sure owns those cooling blankets, even if it isn't for cuddling.

if you're under one of those, it's more likely for him to try and give you a hug as you both drift off.

he'd eventually separate from the hug if he's feeling too hot.

and as much as you're okay with those small cuddles with fleeting touches, there are times where you just need a good cuddle full of hugs.

he'd come home from another day of trying to exorcise evil spirits, wanting to simply fall into bed where he knows it's nice and cool.

he'd greet you once he walks into your bedroom but he'd notice...

you're wrapped up in your blanket and hugging your pillow tight, acknowledging his entrance with a simple nod.

he doesn't know what's causing you to feel upset or stressed, but that doesn't really matter anyway.

he'd hop into bed right next to you, slowly unwrapping your body from the blanket.

you're still clutching onto your pillow once the blanket is gone.

he'd have to turn you over for him to even be able to look at you.

you're resting your cheek on top of your pillow while looking up at him with tired eyes.

he'll cup your cheek with his hand, smiling softly when you nuzzle into his cold palm.

he would stay on top of the sheets while you're lower body is tucked underneath it.

he'll rub his thumb along your skin, watching as your eyelids flutter every now and then.

"have you been awake long?"

you shake your head.

"i see... come here."

he'd open up his arms, a gesture you hadn't seen for a long time.

this one, however, was different.

he didn't have a forced smile on his face and his arms weren't tense like before.

this time, he had that soft smile you'd always see when you two are enjoying popsicles together and his arms were relaxed.

you'd scooch over the bed, tossing your pillow behind you as you nuzzle into his chest.

he'd let out a quiet chuckle before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

"i'm sorry i don't do this often."

"...it's okay. i like our cuddles no matter what."

"but you deserve this every once and a while."

you'd just hum in response, smiling at the feeling of his thumb rubbing your skin.

he won't talk as much as the other two, opting to keep the calm silence in your room.

you could hear his quiet breaths and his heart beating in his chest.

and you fall asleep to it, the feeling of his arms around your body permanently marked on your skin.

"i normally... get too hot when we cuddle like this. but now... it's feels really nice."