#save them now the site keeps breaking and this is going to end badly one day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jodilin65 · 11 years ago

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SUNDAY, JUNE 30, 2013 Before we take off for Home Depot, Target and the pet store for more bedding for the rats, I’m sitting here wondering if tonight will be the last night we ever sleep in this little old trailer. I hope so! They’ve now decided it’s to be 111° in Citrus Heights on Monday. That’d call for one hot move, but it's worth it to move into what will be our home for the next 15 years at the very least. We’re hoping to get the keys by early afternoon tomorrow. Absolute worst-case scenario (since they have the paperwork marked till the 3rd at the latest) is that we move after work on Wednesday. We don’t want to move on Thursday cuz that’s when the parade is going on.

For now, there’s not much else to do other than tie up loose ends and keep on waiting. Just remember that if you’re a friend that I regularly keep in touch with, it could be a few days before I have a chance to get back to you or pick up email and things like that. We should be online pretty much right away, but we expect to be busy settling in and getting to know the place. So just be patient! I won’t forget about you.

Later…

Went out to look at things at Home Depot and get ideas for shades for the bedroom and other things like locks/knobs, ceiling fans for the bedroom, flooring, carpet, etc.

Then we went to the pet store for bedding, but it wasn’t open so we got some from Target, which was our next stop. We got a couple of days of groceries and some more storage bins in 3 different sizes to pack the final odds and ends in. Love the clear ones so we can see what’s in each one without having to not only open them up but also dig through them to see what’s toward the bottom.

Brought in some packing peanuts we had in the shed to pack things like my delicate all-porcelain ballerinas, and next, I’ll clean the smaller cage in the tub, then hose down the big cage. We felt it’d be easier to move them to the smaller cage, even though these humongous rats probably won’t like being stuck in it for a few days. I’ll let them run around loose for exercise like I usually do anyway.

SATURDAY, JUNE 29, 2013 I’m amazed at how many questions I’m still getting on Ask. A few questions, particularly the one about wondering what’s the point of living, and whether or not to confront a friend who wrote that they’re lazy and whiny, seems Aly-ish, but I’m not going to ask her. I figure if it was her and if she wanted to identify herself, she would have.

Anyway, sure enough, we’ve had some delays and now we won’t be getting the fucking keys to our new house till next week. We’re waiting on documents that have been overnighted and need signing, and Brenda has some disclosure forms for us to sign. We don’t know what, though, since we already signed those (no one died there).

Is this where things start going wrong? I asked myself yesterday. Then when we finally do get in does God set the stage for enough things to break to drain our savings, then have him laid off so we can struggle really badly and maybe even lose the place? Well, we’ve got a 1-year warranty for even things as small as a drippy pipe/faucet, and seeing that business is always booming where he works and they just asked him to start a new job there that pays more, I think we’ll be ok. Can’t guarantee that I’ll get as much sleep and peace there as I’d like, but we’ll soon find out.

Our monthly expenses should come to around $1200 a month excluding gas and food. Once the place is paid off, it should be closer to around $900. We now owe 19 grand on the loan. How fast we pay that off will depend on OT, what money I make online, and what I can win.

Escrow has been signed and closed and Brenda took the sellers to do their signing, too. Everything must be precisely worded and in order. Many people refer to these types of homes as trailers or mobile homes and that’s technically incorrect. The correct terms are manufactured homes or modular homes, which are built like on-site homes and don’t have taillights and whatnot on them like the trailer we’re in now does. It’s been taken off its wheels and its steel frame sits on concrete blocks, but this is still a definite trailer. It would blow away in a heartbeat once the first monsoon storm hit the area if it were on our old land in Maricopa, as opposed to the 42,000-pound manufactured home we had on it.

I think they were also confused at first cuz they asked if our new home had already been set up and strapped down (those 3’ screws I already explained). Well, our home isn’t strapped, it’s grounded, but trust me when I say that on the windiest day of all, she ain’t going anywhere.

When it’s super windy here you can feel this place shudder. Arizona would toss this old heap of shit around like it was a toy.

The good thing is that the escrow people will pay for any days after the first that we’re not in our new home. We were also able to cancel the U-Haul without being charged and decided we’ll just spontaneously grab one on Monday, Tuesday at the latest. It sucks that we couldn’t start bringing shit over there (particularly bulky and breakable stuff) over the weekend, but going out of here in one big sweep isn’t that big of a deal. It’s just harder to move from a small place. We’re practically climbing over shit here. There’s no rain in the forecast, so we might move some stuff out onto the porch that’s sealed up in plastic containers.

So it’s just an annoying waiting game we have to play as we’ll be pretty much grounded all weekend, unable to do much but maybe go through the shed and sort through some more things out there and try to organize shit overall as best we can with what little space we have to do it in. I really want to just get the hell over there so we can have fun setting up and enjoying being back on cable for the first time since 2007! Then I can move on to new worries and wonder if I’ll be able to sleep well there and if there’ll be more daytime distractions than I’d like for when I’m up and about. Now would be the perfect time to dive into their pool, but no, we gotta be stuck here over the weekend. I’m dying to dive into their fitness room too, and take advantage of most of their amenities.

It’s to be 105° up here on Monday and 110° where we’re moving to. I hope Nane isn’t back from Spain yet seeing that it’s 55° and raining today in Munich, LOL.

FRIDAY, JUNE 28, 2013 Today’s Tom’s 56th birthday and hopefully it will be celebrated by getting the keys to our new house. If worse comes to absolute worse, we get the keys on Monday and we move out in one clean sweep instead of making half a dozen or so runs over the weekend before renting the truck for the big stuff on Monday as planned.

Damn! Just damn! I never thought this day would come. For years I told myself it would never happen because that’s what I truly believed. But I was wrong. Very wrong.

Anyway, I’m glad I took Tom’s advice and slept a little later. I needed it. I was all wound up from the excitement and had trouble falling asleep. Besides, what good would getting up really early do us when nothing’s open then and we can’t do anything anyway? Tom woke up early cuz he too, is super excited.

Even if we get the keys today, we probably won’t be sleeping at the new place till tomorrow night at the earliest.

Right now we’re changing addresses on some of our online accounts, but I won’t change my town on Facebook till we actually get to it.

THURSDAY, JUNE 27, 2013 Tom’s looking at a new job at work that will call for less OT and more money, but that’s all I can say about that right now. Other than that the hours will be more stable and it involves working more on computers than overseeing warehouse activities.

The only thing I’m a bit concerned with right now is that Kathy hasn’t notified us yet to say they received the final loan document they’re waiting on, and this could pose a potential delay in getting in the house and cause us (as well as others) all kinds of headaches. Let’s hope things continue to run on time!

I’m both nervous and excited to get the move done and over with. I just hope that living there won’t be too much like an apartment complex without the apartments. In the apartments I had back east they pretty much mowed in the summer and shoveled in the winter and that was it. But in the Arizona apartments, there was always, always something going on and a lot more activity. It was a climate thing, of course, but this is a nice climate, too. I just hope there isn’t too much activity going on there, though I think most of it will still be confined to the pool and clubhouse. I sure hope so anyway! They may come around every now and then with a street sweeper, but there are no sidewalks to blow or heavy landscaping to do. Still, I just want to get it over with and see what it’s really going to be like there.

Someone asked if there was any particular event that caused me not to believe in prayer, but nope. It was an accumulation of unanswered prayers that made me a non-believer. Not being granted a singing career (I still can’t believe I ever wanted to do that) was one thing, but what was really depressing and a scary eye-opener was when I was denied a child. It was then that I came to believe that it didn’t matter if what I asked for was off the wall or “normal.” It just had to be me asking for it and it was automatically forbidden.

I’d heard it said that if we prayed for what was fair, right, reasonable and correct, we would receive our request. Was a child not “correct?” Well, perhaps it wouldn’t have been the more I came to value my life and my freedom. After having to deal with other people’s screaming kids for so long I came to realize the value of peace. I also admit I got a bit selfish, not wanting to give up my life to something that would take from us more than it could ever give. You puke your guts out when you get pregnant, you gain a million pounds, you go through a world of pain having it, you get depressed afterward, and then you are swamped with nothing but constant noise and expenses with barely 5 minutes for yourself. Did I really want that? No, I didn’t. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that I had prayed for something that was supposed to be natural and that was when a cold hard reality began to sink in; that either nothing was listening to me, or it simply didn’t give a shit about me.

“Eh, it just wasn’t meant to be,” someone told me.

“But then why pray? If things are either meant to be or not meant to be, why pray?”

But I was stubborn and not ready to give up just yet on the idea of getting God to like/accept me and to give me what I wanted too, even though just the mother He had me born to was enough to tell me otherwise. I prayed for a child. He gave me a miscarriage. I prayed for help with my weight. I now struggle with 30 extra pounds. I prayed that the move from Oregon to Cali would go smoothly. He led us to the streets. I prayed that Tom not be one of the 10% to become unemployed back in 2008. He gave him years of unemployment. And so I quit talking to myself and let fate/destiny play itself out the way it was meant to be anyway. This doesn’t mean I won’t put effort into achieving the things I want in life, it just means that I know I’m on my own. If I’m going to get any of these things it will be because of me only, and if anyone does help me, they’ll walk on two legs just like I do. No, I’m not going to leave my weight to fate. I’m still going to try to diet and exercise and hope my body responds to it. If not then only a doctor can help me. Not any God.

Not one single blessing in my life, from Tom to our new home or from my writing/language abilities to our income has been prayed for. Every good thing I got in life was simply meant to be and I never had to ask for it. They may’ve taken work to achieve, but the point is that I’ve learned that praying doesn’t necessarily equal good things coming my way any more than it means being able to ward off or change bad things that happen. If I’m meant to have something, I’ll get it, and I won’t get what I’m not meant to have either. I know this and I know no prayers are necessary either, but as always, to each their own.

Later…

The Supreme Court ruling that DOMA is unconstitutional yesterday was a great thing. But when will gays be able to marry in every state???

Believe it or not, I’ve got about 90% of this place packed up now, including the mouse that fell prey to the sticky board under the sink. Yeah, he’s been bagged and sent to the outside trash bin. He was so cute, but oh the smell and the turds!

At first I thought the brown paper lunch bags he never used that he got a while back were a waste, but I find them great for mugs, glasses and other breakables.

Had a little scare this morning with the cooler. It was dripping off the roof and I’m thinking, Oh fucking no! Can’t shit just wait 3 more days to break? But Tom climbed up and checked it and said it overflowed a bit but wasn’t leaking. We’ve got triple-digit temps coming up, so it better fucking work!

Guess I’ll go pack and proofread some more and hope there are no delays. We really need them to call with the final numbers so we can make the damn down payment, sign the escrow papers that are set to close tomorrow, and go home!

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 26, 2013 The people in our house are gone now and I’m getting more emotional (in a good way) as the days begin to melt down into just hours. I think, OMG, this is almost it! Unless a meteorite strikes us dead, a U-Haul is really going to take our perfectly live bodies out of here and not some coroner in a couple of body bags as what came so, so terrifyingly close to being the case.

It must’ve been a sad day for Gene and Audrey, the people we bought the house from. I feel a twinge of sadness for them knowing they’re going into an assisted living apartment just to begin the end of their lives while I’m thinking, OMG, our new home is now sitting there empty just waiting for us and a couple of cute rats!

What I saw in here earlier made me think of going petless once these rats go so we can use the bug plug that emits a high-frequency pitch at the new place. It was the biggest spider I’ve ever seen in the 6 years we’ve been in Cali! I went into the bathroom, parked my ass on the toilet, then sort of glanced upwards. And then I saw it. My vision is so shitty I can’t distinguish small objects, but this thing was SO big that I instantly knew what it was. I shot up from that toilet so fucking fast. I hated to have to run underneath the thing to escape it, and of course you can imagine that trying to pull up your panties while running isn’t an easy thing. I woke poor Tom up to kill it that’s how huge and scary the damn thing was. Its guts are mashed all over the ceiling. If it weren’t for the fact that we’ll be out of here in a few days I’d scrub it off.

That nocturnal nightmare was compliments of the two days of rain we’ve had. We had more rainfall in the last two days than in nearly a year! It was amazing and so hard to believe it was late June and not late fall. We haven’t needed the cooler for two days, and it was also hard to believe that in just a few days we’d be in for triple digits. It’ll be 85° today, then 95°, then over 100°. Today, if I remember, I’ll shoot some of the ugliest exterior pics so we can all laugh at how we had to live for so long, though for the longest time, it wasn’t funny at all.

Tom scheduled the cable to be turned on on Friday. No more shitty slow DSL!!! Woo-hoo!!! And yes, we really are going home!!!

If there is a God up there that picks and chooses what happens to us and if things really do happen for a “reason” and He gets it in mind to beat someone over the head with money, I’ll be damned if it’ll be us. We can’t guarantee we’ll never get cancer or anything like that, but we’re going to always do everything we can to see to it that we never end up back in the poorhouse. But even though he makes a lot of money and the dream premonitions have backed off almost completely, a “bad” money dream would still scare the shit out of me. Once you’ve had just half of the dream premonitions I’ve had you can never ever return to assuming a nightmare was just a nightmare. Psychics go dormant at times. We don’t go away.

The only thing that could delay us is that the loan lady is waiting on one final document. She expects it today, though, and I hope she gets it! We don’t want to have to pay the Jes pest for OT spent here AND the park.

Ok, gotta get packing some more shit. Damn, it’s tough with so little space, but fun! Totally worth it. I think I’ll bag up some of the clothes we don’t wear as much and toss them in some cheap trash bags we got for cans and bottles.

TUESDAY, JUNE 25, 2013 Beat the alarm by 3 minutes and learned that Mark’s surgery went well. They didn’t find anything they believed to be cancerous. But he’s still got his heart, a much bigger issue, to contend with.

Got another super busy day ahead, so I’ve got to make this quick. Amazingly, it rained all day yesterday. It was great. It shut the Jes pest up and made sleeping better. It’s going to rain throughout the morning too, the pest’s prime time. Like I said, though, I’m mostly on days now, so he can’t wake me up. He shouldn’t even be able to annoy me much when I am awake since he certainly won’t be re-roofing or bulldozing anytime soon while the ground is still wet. I’m so glad I’ll never have to hear that insanely loud dozer again!

Tom checks online every day to see if they’ve disconnected their cable so we can get it set up in our name, but nope, not yet. So someone’s still there. That’s no real surprise since they said they would be out by the 28th.

MONDAY, JUNE 24, 2013 I first want to say that yesterday’s rant about the reverse discrimination running rampant in this country that no one seems to care about, and my lack of trust in God and belief in prayer wasn’t meant to sway anyone’s opinion one way or the other. You’re all welcome to have a mind of your own. Remember, I’m selfish. :) Meaning that I write for myself first and foremost. You readers are just an afterthought, so to speak. I’m going to say what I’ve got to say regardless of whether it’s the “norm” or things others can relate to or not simply because that’s part of what keeping a journal is all about. It’s about documenting one’s life, thoughts, feelings, opinions and beliefs, not about trying to change others. If someone happens to be influenced by anything I’ve written, however, then so be it. I can’t control the world or help what people are going to think or do. I kind of see journaling as I do walking down the street in my favorite shirt. Some will like it. Some won’t. Some won’t even notice. But I like it and that’s all that matters with no offense or persuasion intended.

Having fun making people wait on me on Ask. Nothing from Kathy today, but I got a few questions that might be from Kim. They asked if I had a lot of online friends, if I like getting email, and if I know anyone named Carol. Well, she has a sister Carol, and the other two questions seem like questions she’d ask. Just when I thought she’d forgotten about me.

We went to Walgreens yesterday to take advantage of our AARP discount. You get $10 just for signing up, so the sculpted dog I got was basically free. Getting older has its advantages, though I’m 3 years shy of my own AARP membership. It’s a very realistic-looking sculpt, which I like as opposed to cartoonish-looking things. It’s an Irish Setter holding a ‘welcome’ sign in its mouth.

“Only they’re not welcome,” Tom joked.

LOL, he’s got a point there as funny as it may sound. I’m no social butterfly. I’ll still be seeing a lot more people than I have been when I’m out and about; just not at home. I can’t wait to go swimming!!! It may be a week or two before we finally have the time to do that, but this is a great time of year to be moving. I’d hate to move in December and know I had to wait 5 months or so before I could swim.

The house isn’t as big as we thought it was, according to the appraisers and inspectors. It’s 56’ long by 24’ wide, which comes to 1344 square feet, not that that’s not more than enough room for us. The master bedroom alone is 12x20.

Tom said Jesse was blasting music on Saturday that couldn’t be heard in here. Every time he went outside, though, he could tell he was listening to a Bruce Springsteen concert. He could hear him talking in between songs. His kid is probably there now. Someone’s been there keeping the mutts quiet for the last half a year or so. I’m surprised we never heard his music before. Tom said he thinks he kept it down in the past so as not to annoy us. Well, that’s nice cuz his vehicles, power tools and mutts were certainly more than enough.

We’ve been having amazingly cool weather for June. Although I prefer it hot, it’s better for sleeping. It was nice to be able to shut the bedroom door and window and not have to wear my eye mask when I crashed yesterday afternoon. They say we’re on for rain and sun today and just rain tomorrow, but I’ll believe it when I see it. It’d be awesome if it would rain really hard if only for an hour because then the Jes pest won’t be as likely to do anything down here before we leave, particularly bulldozing and re-roofing. Oh, the work that guy’s gonna have to do in here with all the damn drippy faucets alone! I’m sure he’ll want to balance the doors, too. He may not care that the bathroom door flops open, but he’ll definitely care that I’ve had to make a hook on the wall to keep the bedroom door from flopping shut. Oh, to soon be able to place a door halfway open and see it stay there! The next place is going to have 7 interior doors. I’m not counting bedroom closets cuz those are sliders.

Later…

Tom woke up early because his mind was racing a mile a minute. We’re both excited but also nervous about the move. I’m nervous about what it’ll be like when we get there, and he’s nervous about just getting there. As he said, everything’s running smoothly and that’s the problem, which is exactly what I was thinking. Things just don’t normally go as planned for us yet as far as we know there are no delays to be expected, no one’s out to get us and to ruin our plans, and we’re still on for moving this weekend. After having things go so shitty for us for so long, and after seeing every single one of our plans, simple or complex, fall to pieces, we tend to get a little suspicious when things go well for us. Really, why is life being so good to us all of a sudden? From a logical standpoint, we deserve good things and it’s simply our compensation for the hell we went through year after year, but something up there has a way of seeing it the other way around and I worry that we’re going to pay tenfold for this good fortune we’ve been having.

For now, life is being so good to us that it’s even raining out there as I write this, LOL. That’ll keep the Jes pest at bay. I’m mostly back on days now, though, so it’s unlikely there’ll ever be a risk of him waking me up again. I’ll be setting alarms so my schedule doesn’t jump more than an hour a day. So today it’s into bed at 1pm to read for an hour, then back up at 11pm.

Although we’re not in an area where natural disasters are likely to strike, if something happened that was out of our control like that, that’d be one thing. But if any person, group, agency or whatever even thinks of turning our dreams into a living nightmare like it has in the past I will totally destroy anyone responsible. TOTALLY.

That being said I can move on to say that I’ve organized and packed a few more things. Tom can get tons of boxes at work so that’s not an issue. The issue is where to put them. We don’t have much room to pile boxes in here but some can go out on the porch if they have to. I had my emotional moments along the way thinking, wow! It’s really happening. We’re going home. Yes, we are!

The PTSD still eats at me at times, so it will be nice to finally be in a place that doesn’t have such terrifying and stressful memories attached to it, and that hopefully never will either.

Mark should be out of surgery by now and hopefully, he’ll soon learn that he’s cancer-free!

SATURDAY, JUNE 22, 2013 Kathy’s brother asked again why I’m such a “cray beeyatch,” but I think I’ll ignore his childish shit this time around.

Enjoying our last full weekend under the shadow of the Jes pest, though we’re carrying on with our usual errands. Changed the bed here for the last time and will sleep here just 7 more times!

Heard a mouse chewing like hell somewhere under the bathroom. The next people better hope they’re not afraid of mice cuz there sure are a lot of them here in these woods.

When I realized that focusing too much on my German (thanks to Nane, LOL) was hurting my Spanish and Italian and I was starting to forget some things, I went back to Lang-8 where I can do some quick entries in both languages and have any errors corrected by native speakers. Or at least what should be native speakers anyway. I don’t post what I usually post in English in my regular journals, and my entries there are usually short and sweet. The main idea is to just write a few minutes a day in these languages.

“How many answered prayers would it take for you to believe in prayer?” someone asked me. Well, if half of them were answered I’d say it was a coincidence. If 80% of them were answered then I’d seriously start to wonder if there really was something up there listening to me, but as long as I’m at 5% or less and not seeing us all get everything we want in life (or most of us anyway), then I still say it’s about fate and not what we want/don’t want. But whether or not it’s happenstance or something deciding what we get/don’t get is still a mystery to me.

What the hell’s wrong with the Mac’s mail program? It won’t let me send mail. It asks for my PW but keeps rejecting it even though I know I typed it in correctly. Oh well. Guess I’ll have to send it directly from Outlook till Tom gets up and can investigate.

Why is it that whites are being fired like crazy for racial slurring, yet whenever blacks mouth off about whites no one gives a shit? Just wondering why the double standards and when the hell they’re ever going to end. This trend has been going on since the 90s and it’s getting really old. I was saddened and sickened to read in someone else’s journal that someone on the Food Network channel was fired for using the N-word 25 YEARS AGO while they were being robbed at gunpoint. I don’t know who she was and I don’t watch TV, but that didn’t make hearing about it any less appalling. Yet if a black person gets on national TV and whines about how terrible we white people are and calls us names, it’s perfectly ok.

“We have it all,” they so often complain. We do? Tell that to us when we too, can have a White History Month, white TV station, white pageants, white this, white that WITHOUT being called racists. And also when we can have a black, Hispanic or Asian person charged with any hate crimes against us, and we aren’t getting passed over in the workplace so often for non-whites.

Seriously, instead of being the second angriest group of people who think the right way to solve problems is through public screaming matches or violence, have you ever asked yourselves if maybe it’s about YOU and not your color? Contrary to popular belief, most people really do base their opinions on behavior and not color. So when you treat people like shit and you unfairly play the race card cuz it’s the “in” thing to do today and you know you’ll be believed, what do you expect? For us to pat you on the back and say, “Good job, buddy, good job?”

FRIDAY, JUNE 21, 2013 Other than backing up old journals on MyOpera and a little on Tumblr as well, I really don’t have much to update at the moment. We’re just waiting to move and I’m rolling my schedule back onto days. Amazingly, the Jes pest didn’t come down all week, but next week wouldn’t surprise me. Who knows, though? Maybe he’s waiting till we leave. The better he’s doing financially these days, the more he can take time prepping the place in between renters.

Even though it’s a hassle to work out here since I have to clear so many things away from the treadmill to have room to unfold it, I really gotta walk at least 20 minutes tonight so I don’t start having joint pain. Just one more week of this lack of space shit!

Tammy and Mark continue to have it rough physically. I guess her situation has been the same, but Mark, who not only has to have polyps surgery on Monday morning to make sure no cancer is present, was also rushed in to see his cardiologist. He apparently has a couple of clogged arteries and to quote Tammy's words, “If that one goes, he’s instantly dead. There’s no heart attack, no warning, no nothing.”

So things have certainly been scary, hectic and frustrating for them.

THURSDAY, JUNE 20, 2013 Not surprisingly, Kathy’s shit has started back up again after a few days of silence. I guess she’s my official replacement for Kim unless Kim’s doing a great job of making any of the anonymous questions I get seem like they’re not from her. Her brother – or at least supposedly her brother – asked: why you gotz to be hatin on my sis beeyatch?

I know I shouldn’t feed the trolls and should probably have ignored the “question,” but instead I deleted it and re-asked myself the same question only I changed it to: why you gotz to be hatin on my sis beeyatch?

LOL, I replied with: I’m married, buddy. I look, I flirt, but I definitely don’t date.

This will really fuck with their heads. Hopefully, they’ll think they made a typo. Hahaha

Later…

Nothing from Kathy and her cronies today. Alison said she almost never talks to her but that’s ok because she’s tried to reach out to her before just to be ignored. Well, as I’ve learned, Kathy is a very spoiled, selfish person, so if there’s nothing for her to gain by being closer to Aly, then she won’t bother. I’m kind of hoping she and her family will be too busy to pester people once the kid is born. Why dump someone, though, if you don’t want anything to do with them? I still can’t believe she of all people would dump someone, and then harass them! I’d seen her harass Molly, but that was different, or so I thought. That was her picking on a stalker, not someone she dumped for not being a God-lover.

Aly’s still struggling with skin issues, anemia, insomnia and depression. Others tell her to just “smile” and think “happy thoughts.” God, the day it’s that easy, no one will ever be depressed again! Really, that’s like telling a gay person to just not be attracted to the same sex.

Andy has a form of asthma and has to use inhalers. This sucks, but it’s better than having cancer. Tom has exercise-induced asthma. Strenuous activity can cause him to have a tough time breathing.

Someone on Ask told me that the older I get, the more selfish I get. Gosh, I hope so! I would hope I’ve matured, grown and smartened up enough not to be so damn naïve, trusting and forgiving as I once was. As I told them, I would still help a friend in need, of course, but would be more selective about who I did what for. Sometimes our generosity is taken advantage of and this causes us to be less generous, thus giving the impression we’re stingy. Being too trusting, forgiving and generous can really get us in trouble if we’re not careful. I’ll still help the old lady cross the street, but I won’t give money to the guy on the street and take his word for it that he’ll get the food he needs with it. For all I know that “food” is really drugs, alcohol or cigarettes.

I think most of us become more selfish with age as we lose our sensitivity and care less about what others think of us, how we look, etc.

I get the impression this is someone who’s been reading quite a bit of my journal but won’t identify themselves because it’s someone who knows they’re not supposed to be contacting me. Either that or they’re afraid of me for some reason. Ah, but I don’t bite, so hopefully they’ll step out of the shadows and introduce themselves sometime.

As the move approaches, we begin the last of the last. Last sheet change, last period, last this, last that. I’m so excited and nervous, but fortunately, I’m much more excited.

Can’t wait to be more active and go back to dieting even if it means having to deal with constant hunger again. I once prayed for any God that may be up there and that may hear me to please help me help myself by giving me more strength not to cave into the hunger or take shortcuts with working out, but was ignored, of course. So I stopped talking and started doing, knowing I was on my own, as always. Still not sure, though, if there once was a God who abandoned us and that’s why prayer is just wishful thinking for most of us and why so many people have such shitty lives, or if there is one and it’s just playing favorites. I know some people think it’s the devil that does evil and not God, but if God’s supposed to be the most powerful thing, then why doesn’t He overthrow the devil? Hmm… I gotta go with there being a God that created the universe and the things in it, but that doesn’t have any influence over our day-to-day lives.

BUT… the timing of the job was way too coincidental. I have a feeling that if anything up there did lead us on the road to death, it wasn’t the same thing that saved us for why would you push someone so far into the dark just to yank them out of it at the end? What happened to us was literally like falling from the sky with no parachute just to have a giant hand reach out and catch us as we were about to hit the ground. Things were THAT close to over for us. I don’t know what saved us in the end. I only know it wasn’t God. I don’t know how I know it, though. Just a gut feeling, I guess.

Ok, I should quit analyzing and guessing things none of us can ever know for sure anyway, and go hit the shower.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 19, 2013 Just 10 days left! Kathy emailed Tom the insurance forms to print, sign, scan and email back so they can go ahead with the loan stuff.

I’ve been organizing things both on and offline. Every now and then I like to clean out my email accounts and delete everything I’ve received and sent. You just never know if someone may hack in and get the password you may’ve requested or whatever. So I decided it was time to clean house.

Went through some more stuff in the dark, creepy closet, which I won’t miss at all no matter how spacious it may be for a little old trailer, but there’s only so much I can pack right now because most of what’s not yet packed are things we’ll need or don’t have boxes for. The hard part is where to put all the boxes we pack. We’re hoping to bring some big, bulky items over to the house before we get the truck.

The dream I had of Teddy Bear was weird. She was still in her late 30s, as I believed her to be when I last knew her. Only instead of just getting transferred to Madison for flirting with the ladies at Estrella, she was married with a 12-year-old daughter in the dream, rumor had it. The person telling me about it (I don’t know who) said Teddy Bear was from a very conservative, hateful family that pushed her until she succumbed to the pressure and married her high school sweetheart. Or, more appropriately, the boy she pretended to love and be all into, the person also told me.

“So by day she’s following her heart and chasing the ladies, and at night she’s this old-fashioned person going home to this husband and child she never wanted?” I asked incredulously.

The person nodded just as I was coming awake. In real life, there’s no way she’d have ever let anyone pressure her into marriage, kids or both. By then married people having kids was no longer the norm anyway, and then even marriage itself got less common. Too busy trying to keep gays from marrying, I guess, to worry about their own marriages. She also doesn’t strike me as the type to marry another woman, not that Arizona would ever allow it being the bigoted state it is towards people like gays, Jews and whites. Everything down there is basically black this, Mexican that.

Not where Tom works, though, so he’s learning. His place is one of those few places left that still underpays its minorities. Pam, his coworker who also lives in an adult community, says that’s just so horrible and so unfair. LOL, so typical of a white person to say, but I can’t say I don’t agree. I always thought nothing but one’s qualifications should be considered when it comes to employment and that everyone should be paid equally and fairly despite color, race, gender, nationality or sexual preference. But sadly, minorities tend to be favored in most places, gays are still getting fired, and women still aren’t getting the pay men get.

Later…

I guess I’m going to be ghostwriting for Tammy after the move. She’s been wanting to start a journal for a while now but has been too sick to do so. Even when she’s not sick, her meds make her shaky so it’s hard for her to type. Hopefully, by the end of the year, the doctors will have her in much better health than she is now. She’ll still probably have to take medication for the rest of her life, though, even if she doesn’t need the transplant done.

Anyway, I thought of how she paid Sarah to help her around the house and said, “Hey, wanna hire me to ghostwrite your life story?” Well, she is interested in my offer, but we won’t discuss it till we get settled at the new place, though the pay is up to her.

I only ghostwrote one other story and that was Mary’s story, none of which I ever got any credit for. People don’t always realize that not everyone can afford to work for free, and even when they can, they still shouldn’t have to. Nonetheless, I saw it as helping out a friend, or what I thought was a friend. One I also thought trusted me. Sometimes being friends with someone who can’t take us at face value can be as difficult as trying to be friends with those who are crazy. You spend more time trying to reason, assure and explain yourself than you do actually enjoying having them in your life. They’re not worth it no matter how much you may like them otherwise.

Anyway, I am going to be sooo busy after the move, but I look forward to keeping wonderfully busy and active. I just want people to know this if I’m not around as much and not take it personally. Don’t know how much time I’ll have for social sites and blogging, but will still make a point of doing at least one quick entry a day. Work, sweepstakes, writing, language studies, pools, gyms, shopping, decorating… I am sooo excited and it’s going to be sooo much fun! And very time-consuming. Still gotta cook, clean and do laundry, even though I’m not much of a cook. I wonder if there’ll be enough hours in a day to do all I want to do! Can’t wait to do things online I couldn’t do here either at all or very easily – stream movies, download high-res pics, explore new music to add to my music library…

We decided to just start with a new desk and a couch because we don’t want the savings to drop too much. This place is beautiful and affordable, but ONLY if you make good money. Yeah, that’s the only thing I don’t like about this place, besides the bad memories I’ll always have of our toughest and scariest moments in Auburn, it’s NOT unemployment safe. On the bright side, this is easily the most secure job he’s ever had what with all the OT. You don’t usually throw so much OT at people just to go laying them off soon afterward.

It’s going to be so much more fun than the last house we bought. After all was set up and done there, that was it. It was over and I didn’t have much else to do or look forward to. There were no pools or clubhouses I could go to, the Internet wasn’t what it is today, and so there wasn’t much to do other than clean and write. Well, that is until a knock on the door at 8:30 on the morning of January 6, 2000 came and put an end to my boredom. That sure as hell won’t be happening at this place! Not unless it’s in my cards to end up filthy rich after all.

All the little things like changing town names on Facebook (that won’t happen till we get over there) are made more special by the fact that I wasn’t supposed to live to be able to do them. Like drink the emergency water. LOL, yeah, that’s another thing we’ll do in about a week or so is finish off the little jug of water for when the Jes pest would have one of his famous well or pressure tank problems. You see things differently after you’ve stared death in the eye. Things are funnier. Stupid things that you wouldn’t ordinarily laugh about or give a second thought to. Like drinking down that “emergency” water. hahaha

This should be the last night we’ll have to close windows and the cooler vent while we’re still here. Last night got chilly as hell in here. The propane tank hit 12% last weekend, so the next people in here are definitely not going to take many showers at our expense, LOL.

TUESDAY, JUNE 18, 2013 No calls or emails today, so I guess everything is on track as scheduled. No bad dreams either.

Been having dreams of Teddy Bear, the one woman I came to really truly love (though I have had feelings for a few others) after getting married. She really taught me a lot. For one, she reminded me that some people are full of shit no matter what they say, and yes, no matter how in love and committed you are to one person, people can still be attracted to and even have feelings for others along the way. We really are only human.

I wonder what her life is like today. Is she still a detention officer? Or did all that flirting finally catch up to her and get her fired? I wonder about Palma and Pérez, too.

Jesse let me sleep so far this week. I’ve had the sound machines cranked up and I’ve also added an earplug to my good ear for good measure. If he’s been down here I haven’t heard him. I don’t think he has been, though, as there’s no evidence of weeding, trimming, bulldozing or anything.

MONDAY, JUNE 17, 2013 The Jes pest is almost just a memory and I’m wondering why the heavy period. So much for menopausal dreamin’.

I’m also wondering why I’m still Stephane’s only friend on Facebook. If it weren’t for a fellow VH sister confirming that she’s another “sister,” I’d be beyond suspicious. But why join FB just to friend only me, someone she never met? She was at VH from 1984-1986 and I was there from 1982-1984.

Poor Nane was sick, but will soon be off to enjoy a vacation in Spain!

I hope Alison’s doctor’s appointment went well today. The poor girl’s skin is all broken out and she’s lucky to get just 2 hours of sleep a night. Damn! I can’t even live on just 6, so I don’t know how she does just 2. Her last round of blood tests came back as “unusual,” so I worry about her. She herself says she doesn’t know how much more she can take. She’s been as cursed medically as we were financially.

At this point, I’m just hoping to hell there are no last-minute delays. Things have been running smoothly and on schedule so far which is pretty damn amazing for us, so that’s why I worry someone’s gonna throw a kink in our plans at some point. I hope not, though! It’s just that no one’s asked us for money yet and we can’t get in the house till we make the down payment. The loan lady said everything’s fine, so I guess we should just trust her and assume she knows what she’s doing.

Why has life been so good to us lately anyway? I wonder. I know we deserve this compensation after the hell we went through for so long, but still, I’m not used to things going this well for this long and I tend to get a little suspicious when they do. I suppose I should just shut up and enjoy it! If the shit’s gonna hit the fan again at some point, and if there really is a God that’s pissed off at what we’re doing and is going to “punish” us with breakage or health issues, there’s nothing we can do about it now.

I laugh to myself when I read back on some of my old journal entries. Damn, was I naïve! Back when I didn’t always talk right, sometimes by choice when I’d alter words, I then saw it as cute, creative and funny. But like most people when they get older, what I once saw as cute now seems immature. Sometimes it still brings humor to me (if not convenience) to either abbreviate or alter words amongst friends and whatnot, but if I were reading a journal like mine from the 80s and 90s I wouldn’t take them very seriously or consider them very bright. I guess that the more serious I became about writing, the less I wanted to sound like I was in my teens or 20s, unless it’s a character in one of my books that’s that age or something.

The growing illiteracy rate and poor spelling, grammar and punctuation are still alarming. Especially when people are looking for love or jobs where the last thing you want to come off as is some dumb-ass, uneducated person from the slums. As a writer, though, you tend to not only hate it when you make a typo, but you notice the errors of others more and are more annoyed by such things, especially when the writing is so bad you can’t even understand them or you have to read whatever it is they wrote a few times just to get what they’re trying to say.

SUNDAY, JUNE 16, 2013 OMG, this is so fucking funny! I walked into the room Tom was in and said, “Wow, someone on Ask asked about my unfinished Bunny Nose story. I’m surprised anyone remembers that. I told them that I plan, as time permits, to finish that and other unfinished stories I’ve put off once we get moved, or something like that.”

Then I pointed to his eye that’s been watery for some reason and said, “You still have a crying eye.”

“Yeah,” he said, “That could be Bunny Nose’s sequel; Crying Eye.

LMAO!

I may eventually share stories, or at least parts of stories, in my blogs. Can’t share anything that’s already been published, though, and if I post anything that I later end up getting published, I’ll have to take those posts down.

SATURDAY, JUNE 15, 2013 Tom and I are having a relaxing anniversary. The only real work I’m doing is laundry, though I don’t mind. I hope I will be able to say on our 20th anniversary how wonderful our first year in our new home has been, and not that the people there have pestered us or that we’ve had all kinds of problems with the house or anything like that.

I don’t like that Mary was in my blog if only for 20 seconds. What for? I don’t want to be friends with her again, so why can’t those who either dump me or that I dump just let go? Just ignore me and move on, goddamnit! But it’s like no one’s willing to forgive you when you try to apologize and resume your friendship with them, yet they sure won’t leave you alone for long if you’re the one that decides to walk away.

I accused her of having trust issues and being paranoid, but again, Jenny had a point in saying I was “almost” paranoid. How do I know she isn’t coming in to see if there’s something she can sue me for? Until she loses her rich “BF” she could use extra money, no doubt. I still worry that within a few months after the move God will send someone or something to fuck it up for us. If not to the devastating degree that the freeloaders did, then to at least be a highly annoying long-term issue that we’ll be less than thrilled to have to be dealing with when all we want to do is live our lives in peace and enjoy our new home. Well, we WILL fight back this time. Sure hope we won’t have to, though.

Got a couple of messages from Tammy. Because she spoke for 12 minutes and is putting off her health issues till the fall (due to Mark’s issues), I’m hopeful she won’t need the transplant and that her condition won’t get any worse. It’s still not the greatest, though. She’s not physically up to traveling. But she really wants to see us and says they could help with tickets. I think we could swing it ourselves and then she could just house and feed us. But if we really do go there, it’s way in the future. We need to move and get settled first, plus we have a trip to Hawaii coming up this winter.

Also, if we did go there it would only be for a few days. I’d hate to go there and not see Andy, so I guess we could rent a car and have him either drop down and meet us in CT, or we could shoot up over the MA border before we were due to go to the airport or something like that and see him if only for an hour or two.

She said, “I know you don’t like big dogs, but Peppy’s a real baby.” LOL, baby or not, 86 pounds is more than half my body weight! But does SHE realize how big these rats are? They’re like guinea pigs only skinnier, cuter, smarter, and with pointy noses and 8” tails that are about a half-inch thick at the base. Romeo loves to chase the dusting wand when I wave it around, and Sugar’s a real sweetie. Very playful, but gentle, unlike Romeo who can get to really nipping at times. Sugar literally stands straight up when I open the roof of the cage and gives me hugs and kisses.

Tammy’s been redecorating and installing new carpet and flooring so things have been hectic for her. The girls and Mark help her with what she doesn’t have the lungs to do.

Been having fun getting ideas online for new stuff of our own.

I love knowing we’ll soon be getting right what they fucked up on in Maricopa. Besides, our choices were so limited there. It was either white linoleum for the floor or “wooden” linoleum. I chose the white but of course it was marred with streaks of red where they made vent cut-outs and the lazies never cared to fix it. The pink Champaign carpet ended up being denim blue. Better than neutral colors, but still not what I wanted. I was thinking I may go with crème colored furniture with a medium shade of pink carpet, but that’s subject to change.

I love how I’ll get to pick out 3 different designs for floors. One for the kitchen, one for the master bath, and one for the second bath and laundry area. I like the bamboo wallpaper in the master bath and don’t want to redo that, so I’ll probably get something that will go with that. I don’t remember the wallpaper in the other bath, and the kitchen was boring.

I am sooo excited about our new home and all the fun games and activities I look forward to when I’m not writing or doing other work. I had said that I’d always feel some degree of resentment that we had to live so shabbily for so long, and while that’s true, a small part of it ended up being by choice so that we could really live it up in the end. We could’ve moved years ago. We just didn’t want to rent another dump or buy an old dump in a dumpy park with no pool. But because we lived cramped in here for so long we can now enjoy a luxury home in a luxury park with tons of amenities. I am NOT going to let any person, group or God ruin things for us there either. Oh no, not this time around! If anyone makes trouble for us we WILL fight back and we WILL win. Sure hope we won’t have to bother, though. Can’t imagine we would, but that’s just my paranoid side coming out after meeting with disasters of different kinds in two other states.

I laughed when Tom reminded me that we gotta “act” like old people at the pool. No diving, handstands or horseplay. It’ll still be fun, even if all I can do is float and swim.

I am having the PMS from hell with the water bloating. It’s really ridiculous that a 47-year-old has to have a uterus. Why does God hate women so damn much? Better yet, why did He create us if He knew he hated us? Just to have someone to pick on?

FRIDAY, JUNE 14, 2013 Less than 6 more hours till our 19th wedding anniversary! Not bad for one who once could barely keep a relationship for more than 5 minutes. If I wasn’t busy getting dumped I was busy realizing fast what a mistake I’d made in which case I was doing the dumping.

No one could ever compare to Tom no matter what they said, did, earned or looked like!

The real mystery is who the hell really is fucking with me on MD. I still say Kathy was behind some of it, but in regards to my saying how much I liked the motto “Freedom of speech is wonderful, right up there with the freedom not to listen,” I also said that any decent lawyer would’ve told that sick fuck of a twist next to us in Phoenix, “You had the right not to read your mail. No one forced you at gunpoint!”

Then someone with a bogus email came in with: then stop crying that people are responding to your emails idiot!! hah

What emails??? Kim would use words like “idiot” and “moron,” but we haven’t exchanged emails in like forever. Kathy and I never responded to emails. That leaves one very chilling possibility. Yeah, the black bitch in Phoenix. She’s the only one who “responded” by running to the pigs if the pig was even real at all. The only people I exchange emails with are friends and family. Regardless, their statement still makes no sense in response to what I wrote.

Aly just emailed me saying she wondered if Jenny could be behind the messages, cuz a mutual friend of hers and Kathy’s said Kathy was on vacation. Yeah, that’s what someone said on Ask. But someone connected to Kathy was harassing me.

I’ve got comments disabled for all blogs. That way if anyone there gets curious enough to look us up and they find my blog, they can’t say, “Hi, it’s so and so from the park. Welcome to LV!” I’d not only want to wring their necks for that, but I’d be like, jeez, why don’t you just spill our address and socials, too!

Didn’t hear from the Jes pest today, though I didn’t get up till noon. He was ATVing to the electrical box when we returned from yesterday’s signing. Brenda had wanted to be there but she had her own signing to attend to. Brenda’s been asking weird questions and we suspect she may have it in for Joy and want to catch her doing something wrong so she can complain on her. When the park changed management they fired everybody cuz they wanted to hire their own staff. So that’s why Brenda isn’t too fond of Joy.

I’m enjoying the beginning of the end of our time here in this little shitbox. Just changed the sheets and should only have to struggle to make this bed, with barely any space to one side and the foot, one more time!

I just hope nothing critical breaks in our last two weeks here and that that damn pest lets me sleep next week! I need to make one more schedule flip before we get out of here. I’m sure he’ll douse the tanks with bleach at least one more time, though. I hope he’s doing ok financially. The more desperate he is, the quicker he’ll want to start prepping the outside so he can get this place listed faster. On the other hand, it shouldn’t take him more than a day to bulldoze and trim some trees, so long as he doesn’t plan to paint or do anything too extravagant.

Except for the seclusion, I’m not going to miss this place one bit. I took some indoor pics of the ugliest parts of this trailer – behind the toilet, the mismatched bathroom colors, the hallway ceiling/grille, and I just shot the ugly kitchen door, too.

There’s always this faint smell of propane every time I get near the stove like there’s a leak or something. I’m not going to miss that either!

Tom said his coworkers were all jealous of us when he told them all about the place, LOL. Good and bad news for him there. He may continue getting the entire weekend off, but the weekday OT isn’t going to end anytime soon, but at nearly a grand a week it’s hard to complain. He only worked a half-day today due to their systems being down for maintenance but was paid for a full day’s work.

I can’t wait to explore the funhouse, as I’ve dubbed the clubhouse, more thoroughly. I’m surprised how deserted it was. You had half a dozen people at the pool yet not a single soul in sight at the funhouse. I suppose I should be more correct in my journal and call it the clubhouse cuz no one’s going to have a clue as to what the hell I’m talking about otherwise! Oh, there was a billiards room too, but I don’t think I’ll care for that.

The appraisal and inspection were done and everything’s looking good. They found a few minor things. The shower drain in the second bath is loose and the dryer vents underneath the house so there’s some lint down there, not that we care. Some small cuts in the kitchen floor (I remember those, though we’re going to replace the flooring anyway cuz it’s dull), and a few nicks in the outside trim. There’s a small dent in one of the carport supports too, which we may wall off into a garage so Tom could work on the car inside of it if he needed to. They don’t allow that there otherwise.

They’re installing a carbon monoxide monitor, and that was pretty much it. The report was emailed to Tom with very specific photos and descriptions. The patio table and chairs are still there, along with some wind chimes. I also liked that I didn’t see two new vehicles or something like that in next door’s driveway which was visible in one of the pics.

I may bitch about the high space rent, and I may worry about things going wrong and setting the stage for us to return to financial disaster (with a little help from whatever’s above that wasn’t very kind to us for so time), but it’s actually one of the cheapest there because the last people were there for so long. Most of the lots are over $800, as with most of the luxury parks in the area. I would have been thrilled and stunned to know we were going to a 1975, 1000-square-foot elevated home in a typical senior park, but a 1983, 1550-square-foot ground-level home in a luxury park is just mind-boggling! I just never would’ve believed it after living so shabbily for so long.

There are 3 trash bins. One’s for regular trash, which gets picked up weekly. Then there’s one for recyclables and one for green waste. They get alternated each week but picked up on the same day as your regular trash.

At first I wondered how the hell to care for all the trees and plants and what needed to be watered when, but it turns out there’s a drip system in place that’s on a timer located underneath the house. We just have to trim whatever needs trimming.

They had water problems due to some people landscaping in areas they shouldn’t have and damaging some pipes. We may get a couple of 5-gallon gravity-fed water tanks for the toilets just in case, but we don’t know for sure yet. Joy said it’s only occasionally that they have to turn the water off and usually only for a couple of hours.

We may eventually switch to LED lighting because it’s even cheaper than fluorescent. It’s costly at first but will pay for itself in a year, according to Tom’s research.

I love the opaque curtains throughout the place that lets light in but keeps eyes out. I used to be more into blinds, but I’ve gotten sick of them cuz they’re a bitch to dust. These I can just toss in the washer every now and then. The only room I want dark is the bedroom, but it will be in such a way that will be easier to let light in whenever I want to. Here I have rods holding blackout material flush against the window. I can take it out in seconds, but it looks ridiculous without curtains and having to flip the bottom of the material over the outer rod. There I intend to get room-darkening shades with blackout drapes like they use in hotels.

I was bummed to learn the bedrooms have no overhead lights. I hate lamps that operate on wall switches that you plug into special plugs! I used to hate entering a room at night, flipping on the switch, then turning the lamp off using the lamp’s switch, then going to flip the wall switch on the next night just to find it was already on but the lamp was off.

I’ll have to get a really good lamp in the master bedroom and probably more than one. That’s a HUGE room! I won’t use it as much, though, since I now read with the Kindle, but I still want to have something for when I’m going through drawers and closets at night.

I read the resident directory and it turns out that Gene and Audrey S are in our house now, and Robert and Virginia S are next door. Tom thinks they’re older than us, saying that there aren’t many younger Virginias. I would’ve really preferred not to have any male neighbors, though. They’re the ones more likely to be out in their garages hammering, sawing, etc.

The only other name I remember is Marion because that’s – what the fuck is our current “male neighbor” (the Jes pest) up there gunning at 8:30 at night? – Nane’s first name.

THURSDAY, JUNE 13, 2013 Other than for Tammy, Andy and Nane, I will have to be sure to edit out any info that could identify the specific park we’re in, even though the back gate is always locked and the front one is locked at night. If you go to the side of the guardhouse that isn’t gated in front, the tire spikes will be sure to get you. :) I love that security feature! If you drive up to the gate from the inside, it will automatically open, but you need either a code or a transmitter to get in. Might have to have any food deliveries done before 8pm cuz they ask that you don’t give the code to anyone. So… unless you climb the wall, make sure you have about $450 set aside for new tires cuz you’re getting tire-spiked if you don’t live there! I’m sure some of the residents give the code out to some of their family and friends, though. We’ll have to either pick Tammy and Mark up from the airport or have them come in the daytime if they rent a car. If they arrive after dark it’s still no biggie cuz one of us could walk to the gate with the transmitter if we had to.

Got up at 10:30, listened to the Jes pest cruise around on the ATV (probably to pick up our trash at the fork), then Tom and I headed for the park shortly after he got home at 12:30 for what turned out to be a very long and tedious meeting. But Joy was nothing like Stacy, nor did she look like I pictured her to look like. She wasn’t snippy and she wasn’t the frail, old, gray-haired woman with short hair I expected to see. She was around my age and was tall and heavy. She had long straight black hair to her waist and looked to be American Indian.

We had to sign so many damn forms it reminded me of when I first met with Scot back in 2001.

The diagram of trees and bushes on our lot was initialed with B’s, T’s and C’s. I joked about them meaning bitch, tit and cunt, but we really knew the B’s and T’s were bushes and trees. But we didn’t know what the C’s meant till we asked her and she told us cypress trees. So that’s what those tall skinny, boring trees are called that you see all over Tuscany, huh? She asked that we keep them at 6’ and clear of the ground to deter rats, possums and skunks from wanting to nest inside them. I almost lost it when she mentioned rats and put a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing, knowing what rats were going to be nesting inside our place, but skunks? I thought we were getting away from those things there. We wonder where the turkeys sleep at night but didn’t think to ask her.

I was hoping she’d volunteer some info on the neighbors but didn’t want to seem nosy by asking. I’m curious, but at the same time, I really don’t want to know they exist.

She asked about pets, and while we are allowed to have small indoor pets like birds, fish and rodents, we decided it’d be best to just say we were petless, figuring what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Allowed or not, most people there wouldn’t be thrilled at the thought of any of their residents having a couple of monster-sized rats. “Things like fish are fine, just no big snakes or lizards,” she said.

I faked a shiver, pretending to be afraid of reptiles and rodents alike, LOL. Giving someone the gift of ignorance really can be bliss for them, though we have no desire to get any reptiles. The rats wouldn’t like that, I’m sure.

There are some things she said I liked and some I didn’t. I’ll start with the things I didn’t like and save the good things for last. My biggest concern is being pestered with various activities and being inconvenienced more than I’d like, but I doubt it could be any worse than it has been here, and there it will at least be worth it and we’ll be in a place that’s ours. They have water issues where they have to turn the water off to the park for a couple of hours on occasion. I guess that due to the park being old they’ve had to make some repairs.

It may have already been done but if not I’ll have to deal with someone going underneath the house and installing a water meter in the crawl space, then placing a box outside the place. I won’t have to go to the door, though, or let anyone in. As Tom reminded me, we won’t be renting anymore. They don’t do inspections and we’re not obligated to let anyone inside if we don’t want to.

What really sucked to hear about is the July 4th parade they have. They’ll be marching through the park that day and I really hope I’m on days that day! I should be. I also hope they don’t have many events that spill outside the clubhouse and into the entire park like that. Joy said they go “all-out” and even get kids and grandkids into the July 4th parade. Ugh. :( I wasn’t at all thrilled to hear this. Isn’t loud music and kids what we want to avoid and the whole reason for going to a retirement community?

Another thing I didn’t like is that they deliver a newsletter to the door on the first of every month, though Tom says they probably wouldn’t knock, and if they did we could ask them not to.

Lastly, and what I’d say is my biggest concern, is the space rent. It’s high even though it’s one of the lowest in the park, and will increase every year. We signed a 5-year lease instead of a 1-year lease since that’d keep it from increasing as much. Tom said that after doing the math we shouldn’t even hit a thousand a month for over a decade. Still, $747, plus trash, water, sewer, cable and electricity means we really gotta keep our savings up and hope he never gets laid off until and if he ever changes jobs. He might too, cuz he thinks he can get an even better-paying job without all the OT and with even better benefits. Well, like I said, I just hope nothing up there decides to “punish” us for finally getting ahead and getting the things we deserve in life after so many years of struggling and having to do without things, cuz we couldn’t afford this place on less than $10 an hour. Then again, we survived this place at $825. It’s just that there were no mortgage payments or utility bills to pay other than propane and our cheap, shitty DSL. If the space rent isn’t paid by 5pm on the 5th, you get a $25 late fee and another one if it’s not paid by the 15th. We’re looking at a minimum of 3K when he retires and he knows money better than I do. So if he says we can handle it, then I’m not too worried. The mortgage should be paid off in a couple of years.

There’s a $50 fee for those who stay with you for 30 days (thought it was a few days). After that, they have to apply to live there or vacate.

This entry’s getting so long and I’m never going to get everything written that I want to write about if I keep goofing off, so I’ll just wrap this one up and continue on later with the park’s pros, and there are many!

Later…

Ok, back to the pros and cons of the park. Well, I don’t want to mention too many in public, but I will say that Tom and I were laughing over the thought of people who know we live there thinking we were snobs cuz it’s a luxury park. Like people from my hometown of Longmeadow, MA were considered snobs whether they were or they weren’t. LOL, it’s definitely the Paradise Valley, AZ of parks. Well, maybe runner-up, but close enough.

The meeting with Joy took an hour. I was telling her how excited I was to enjoy so many things I had to do without for so long.

“Oh yeah,” she said with a knowing smile, “you never really miss something until you’ve had to do without it. Do I ever know that.”

Do you know what it’s like to believe you’re going to die? I thought. This event in our lives is made more special by the fact that this dream was never supposed to become a reality. We were supposed to die instead. But then a miracle saved us and we could eventually think of all the things that were well overdue for us. Well, on June 28th we’re coming to collect!

Talk about being forever burdened with shitty memories, though. I had described the mutt barking out of the window next to the last place we saw as a real “punch in the stomach.” But that day Tom confirmed one of my latest dreams (or nightmares to be more precise) had become a reality, it was beyond physical. It was a death sentence that was worse than having a million knives twisting and turning in your gut. Those things we read in books about our hearts jumping into our throats or sinking to the pit of our stomachs – well, I sure learned that day that these are very real feelings indeed, and I will have to live with the horrible memory of the stress, fear, depression and anger I suffered thanks to a bunch of greedy bankers, a corrupt government, and a God that didn’t give a damn.

So while I’ll always appreciate our blessings, the PTSD will always be a little cloud hanging overhead and I will always remember the utter horror of trying to imagine us sealing ourselves in the bedroom, lighting charcoal and dying in each other’s arms while not at all being able to imagine dying of starvation on the streets. We just had no idea at the time that Tammy would’ve helped us, even if it meant we’d have had to abandon everything and fly to her place, and well… tears are starting to trickle down my cheeks. Sorry. Then again, no, I’m not sorry. Like Jenny said, I do my best. :)

But not all memories of my 5 years in this dumpy little trailer nestled in the woods with the pesky landlord are negative. Look at all I’ve learned. Look at the wonderful people I’ve met… Nane, Aly, Mitch, Adonis… and the people I’ve reunited with… Tammy, Andy, Eileen, Rosa and so many more.

My language count has doubled and I’ve published books and shared my journal (some of it anyway) for all the world to see. Yeah, I’ve picked up a few trolls along the way, but many people have left very positive, interesting, encouraging and enlightening feedback.

I still can’t keep a schedule and I never conquered my driving phobia and have seen my share of death, one of which greatly saddened me (my foster mother’s), but I never had to go through any of it alone. I always had the love of my husband by my side, the husband who would’ve refused to let me die alone, even though he probably could survive the streets, unlike me, for at least a while.

I’ll never forget the day I sat in this chair I’m sitting in right now, after we were miraculously saved, realizing that that would probably have been the day when Jesse would have discovered our bodies.

I got a bit off-topic and rambled again, LOL, so I’ll finish (hopefully) in my next entry.

Later…

Ok, now I’ll finish up with today’s meeting once and for all. You can learn a lot in an hour and end up with so much to write about, though many details will not be made public despite how secure the park is.

While we were signing the lease and making it real, Tom wasn’t sure what DOB to put on the escrow papers on the 28th when he goes to sign them since he won’t be 55 anymore at that time, haha. Either way, signing those papers will REALLY be what makes it official.

“You guys just barely made it, age-wise. Seems like you had a plan,” Joy said.

Oh, we had a plan, all right. We started talking about adult communities back in Phoenix. What with the chaos the welfare bums and a few others in the neighborhood put us through, I wished to hell we could be in one. But we were only 27 and 35 when we met.

I also laughed when I took note of how dusty Joy’s office was. She could use Andy to clean for her. Hell, I’m so sick of cleaning that I’d have him come clean our house every 10 days or so if I could when both our schedules permitted it, give him $50 - $75 bucks or so, and let him eat or drink anything he wanted while he was tending to all 1550 square feet of the place. But cleaning the place will be well worth it and it’s good physical activity.

I’m so glad we gave this park a chance! I was so tempted to just blow it off. I really didn’t think we’d get in no matter how much money we made. I remember how excited Tom was about it when he first saw it and told me about it, and I was like, “A luxury park? Are you kidding?” He was like, why not at least try? “It’s a freaking luxury park,” I insisted. “Since when do we get to go first class? Really, all spacious modern doublewides and tons of extra goodies? Us? No freaking way! Your average house there sells for $65,000.”

Another con was the resident directory listing everyone’s name, address and phone number, but she said that was strictly optional and that we don’t have to be listed. Good, because I’d rather not give our number out to just anyone, and as Joy said, there’s no guarantee the info would stay in the park.

There were a surprising number of singles in the directory and a Marion on our street, LOL. Several German names, too. I can’t remember them now, but I smiled at some funny ones Andy and I would’ve loved to have called back in our days of mischief. Gene and Audrey S are the ones in our house now and my best guess is that Robert and Virginia S will be our neighbors. They need to hire me to edit their newsletter, though, if they think they can tell us not to take our smoke detectors for “granite.”

Another pro is that the lease can be broken with a 60-day notice and intent to sell. So we’re not locked in or anything like that which is great even though I think I’ll love it there. I sure hope so! I still worry about vehicle noise waking me up when I’m on nights, but we’ll see.

The park has way more amenities than I realized. I knew there was a clubhouse and that they had various groups that got together – computer groups, choir, and things like that. But when we were given a tour of the clubhouse (I’d hate to live directly across from it and deal with all that traffic), we were like, wow! There’s a big main room, which can be rented for special events. This is where bingo is held every Thursday night, which I was delighted to hear they have. They had bingo nights where my parents once lived and I hoped this place would, too. “Of course they would,” Tom said, “Old people love bingo.” LOL, I sure felt like we were young and even good-looking compared to most of the golden oldies we saw. Anyway, they had a big bingo board where they light up the numbers. You play for cash prizes, but I don’t know how much it costs to play.

There’s so much to do there! Their fitness room was state-of-the-art! Treadmills, elliptical machines, bikes, and even a modern Bowflex gym (we had one in Maricopa). I’m definitely getting this weight off no matter what and I intend to drop a good 6-8 dress sizes even if it takes me a year to do it. To each their own with their weight and bodies, but unless it turns out that I do have some medical problem or have to take any medication that causes weight gain, I have no excuse and no one to blame but myself for my own lack of physical activity and overeating. No, I don’t eat like a pig, but it doesn’t take much to put on extra pounds at this height and age. I’m not looking forward to the constant hunger, but the diet part is just as important, if not more than the exercise part, particularly for women. We gain and retain fat more easily than men. I still have a lot of muscle which is part natural for me, part working out for many years on a mostly consistent basis that had an accumulative effect, but I just may go all out and get really ripped!

They also have water aerobics, which may be fun, too. At first I thought of selling our treadmill, but I can’t go there to work out at 3am if I wanted to, so their gym will be just to add variety to my workout when I’m up and about when they’re open. This way I don’t have to just use a treadmill. I can choose to ride the bike one day and then use the elliptical the next day if I want to, and then there’s swimming when weather permits. The pool is solar-heated. Joy took us to see the pool where about 6 women and men over 65 were having a blast. I love how visiting kids are only allowed there in the mornings. This way we can go there in the afternoon when it’s warmer and know we can swim without some brat screaming in our ears.

Other fun goodies at the clubhouse are Bridge and card games. These things don’t interest me, but they have a book and video library and puzzles you can borrow. I only read ebooks, but now that we’ll actually have a table big enough for puzzles, we can borrow some of theirs or get our own and then donate them when we’re done. The pool, fitness room and bingo will be my main things. I’m not interested in the bocce court or the potlucks or anything like that. You have to bring a dish that serves 8-10 too, and I’m no cook. I laughed when I remembered Andy and I bringing empty plates to the apartment complex we lived at in Arizona 20 years ago for some slop they were serving. We thought “bring a dish” meant to bring an empty dish to pile the shit on, not bring your own slop to share with others while you ate their slop. LMAO!

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 12, 2013 Kathy’s backed off. At least for now. I just reallowed for anonymous questions on Ask, so we’ll see if she returns.

Someone asked if I analyze people and all that. I not only think it’s human nature to do so, but yes, I analyze both the dead and the living. My dad looked the other way and let mom abuse us, yet there’s no doubt in mind that he wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot someone trying to kill me even if it meant he had to go to prison for it like if he were unable to prove it was done in order to save my life.

We were talking about what knobs/locks we want to get since the first thing we’ll do is change the locks on the new place. We’re hoping to change both house doors and the workshop with the same lock so we only need one key. Although it’s kind of cool, we decided it wasn’t worth the money to get the fingerprint-scanning lock. We considered a numeric keypad, but I don’t want to have to deal with hard-to-remember numbers, since using our birthdates or something easy to remember wouldn’t be wise. So then it came down to knobs or handles and I decided handles would be cool for a change. They’re certainly easier to operate. My first color choice is gold, then silver, then black.

It’s just so fun picking out these things! Also, the little things we’re going to need to pick out too, like an additional bathmat and a mat for by the back door where we’d be coming and going from mostly. One we can leave down all the time. Here we had to throw down a towel to step in on during rainy days, but we couldn’t leave it there because there was no way to avoid walking over it to get to and from the kitchen, which would get my socks wet during the colder months when I’d be wearing them. If there is a God, I swear I’ll never let it allow circumstances to have us live like this ever again no matter how much it may hate us!

Oh, to have a full-size washer and dryer! I can’t wait to turn what’s normally 3 or 4 loads here in this little portable washer into just 1 load there, and I can’t wait to be able to wash comforters! I’ve always preferred clothes dried in a dryer too, instead of air-dried. Air-dried is too stiff even with fabric softener. Gonna spoil myself at least once with those sheets you toss into the wash that has detergent, then becomes a softener sheet in the dryer. Oh, yes I am! rubs hands in anticipation

We were told they would be out by the 28th, Tom’s birthday, so the plan is to go there that day and measure windows for room darkening shades and blackout drapes for the bedroom. Also, to study the doors to determine what type of locks would be best. We also want to see what furniture, if any, they may leave behind.

On the 29th, we’ll bring some bulky stuff over like the computers, so I may be offline that night and doing a lot of reading and listening to music instead. We’ll also bring the rats that day, too. On the 30th will be the big move where we get the truck and get everything out of here. It will no doubt be quite an emotional day for me, too.

I need to make one more flip with my schedule before we leave, though, and that damn Jes pest better not be a pest and make things harder for me! With this type of sleep disorder, you sleep an hour or two later each day. I can stall it for a week or two, but after that, it gets harder and harder as I get less and less sleep, never able to catch up by going to sleep earlier the night before as most people can. That’s ok, though. 17 more days and I’ll never have to worry Jesse’s going to come to the door again! Sure hope vehicle noise doesn’t replace that at the new place! Can’t imagine there being much in the way of home renovation noise since most of the homes around ours are in pretty good shape. Next door looks like it may be even nicer than our place and ours is pretty damn nice. Really thought we were going to end up in a dumpy early 70s place, so the 80s is like, wow!

I can’t believe this exists in 2013 and it’s LEGAL (A news article about the Salvation Army saying they help people, just not gays)! If the Salvation Army were anti-black BOTH blacks and whites would be torching every SA in sight and the SA would be hit with all kinds of discrimination lawsuits. How did this world and its laws get to be so fucked up?!?!

TUESDAY, JUNE 11, 2013 It’s after 9:00 now and I’ve got 3 hours of music queued up so I don’t have to sit and listen to the Jes pest hammer, beat, bang, bash and run whatever machinery he’s been running up there for the rest of the morning. At least it’s still mild compared to the NHA and Phoenix. How can this guy claim he’s disabled, though, and get disability checks?

Even though my cousin Philip told me he and I didn’t have any issues, he must’ve eventually decided otherwise cuz he deleted me on Facebook. Probably Ruth and Polly influenced, but that’s ok. We have a right to keep or dump whomever we want.

Speaking of dumping… Fat Kat, Cart Fart, Crazy Carties, or whatever the hell else those that have also been targeted by this nutty bunch want to call them, I’m done with that chapter of my life and have deleted some stuff pertaining to them. If they want to go on raging over people’s beliefs, that’s their problem and not mine, and I’m not about to let anyone make it mine either. That being said I can move on to whether or not I really want to remain public.

Every day I’m torn between staying public and going friends-only, and every day I say I’ll sleep on it. Only I never wake up any surer as to what I want to do than I was the night before, and when I do it isn’t long before I change my mind. I asked Tom if he’d let Molly’s “informant” influence his decision and he said no, that wouldn’t even factor into it. Well, public or not, I’ll probably at least cut out some of my blogs. I have too many. I enjoy the different features the different sites have to offer, but it makes editing more of a pain when you manage multiple blogs. I dropped Tumblr and I guess LJ will be next at some point. Maybe I’ll make that a voice blog.

I had strange dreams last night about waking up in our Maricopa house, then a dream of Andy’s mother inviting me to the beach in Arizona of all places, hahaha. I kept trying to tell her there were no beaches there, but she just didn’t get it.

He was also laughing at how I blame God for the economy. Why, though? If things happen for a reason, good or bad, isn’t He supposed to be the driving force behind these things? Ok, “responsible” may be a better word than “blame” in some cases. The guy who raises a bat to kill someone is responsible for his own actions, but who do you think allowed it to happen? If there is a God that’s still influencing the people and events on earth, it’s definitely not a good God for the most part, but yeah, if one exists I think it helped set the stage for the economy to collapse and chose who would be affected by it and how. Well, believing you’re going to die whether it’s quickly at your own hand or slowly on the streets isn’t funny at all, and I know I never could or would forgive God (along with other reasons). Again, though, that’s if one still exists. Maybe the events in our lives truly are happenstance, unplanned and totally without anything but humans, machines and Mother Nature guiding them. We’ll probably never know for sure in this life.

What did the crisis bring me in the end? Another case of PTSD and a valuable lesson learned about saving money. Then again, we’d already learned that lesson beforehand; it’s just that we didn’t have the money to save in the first place. Tom did the worst-case-scenario math and found that even if they laid him off the day we moved in and he couldn’t get unemployment, we’d be ok for 4 months. But of course he’d get unemployment, and older and white or not, it shouldn’t take 2 years for him to find another job.

Later…

Guess I’ll stay public a while longer. As I know, putting a wall around me may keep the jerks out, but it also keeps the good people out as well. It’s both fun and interesting to see who comes around, even if I’m less than flattered by some of my visitors.

Still not sure why I’m being dumped so much these days by people who either want to dump and ignore me or dump and harass me, but if it’s about me being me, then I’d rather keep on being me and keep on losing people than be someone else and hang onto people. Sure, I could say I love God, God is good, He loves us equally, He answers our prayers, blah, blah, blah. I could also say I’m a real social butterfly who sees tons of friends in person and that I have my own car and a full-time job outside of the house, but that would be lying to both myself and to others. Would that really be fair?

At least I’m half of what marriage means today. Like most modern marrieds we didn’t have kids, but we do share money, objects and household tasks without fussing and fighting over where things came from, who does what, or who was the one to actually bring in the money. All that matters to us is that we get the things we need in life. Yeah, he makes most of our money, but it’s still mine, too. He never washes his own clothes. I do the laundry. And no I don’t think we should do our laundry separately just because it’s 2013 and we’re supposed to be oh so independent. Why there’s so much separatism in today’s marriages is beyond me. Why get married in the first place if it’s such a sin and means you’re suddenly not independent enough if you need to “bum a ride” from your spouse? Just for the tax break?

My beliefs are far from unique, so I’m learning. Those who are either atheists or who believe God is not good are growing in numbers by the day. Can’t blame them due to all the chaos in the world. But unlike some people, I accept that we all have our own beliefs and opinions, and as long as no one tries to force theirs on me it doesn’t matter what they think and believe.

The weather has been weird. Where it had been hot as hell a few days ago, the cooler never came on yesterday until after 5pm. It was chilly in here this morning too, not being in a real house. Oh, yeah, that reminds me. Some folks have asked about manufactured homes and how they’re built. Saying that they’re all flimsy as hell is just as much of a myth as it is saying men are stronger than women and women can’t build as much muscle as they can, etc. Women have more fat which they gain easier than men and can’t lose as easily as men, thus giving the impression that they’re weaker when in fact they’re not really any more or less weaker/stronger. It really depends on the individual and how fit they are, but we ladies definitely have more fat. As for the manufactured homes, they used to be built flimsy, but the newer models are built like regular houses and in some ways can be tougher than on-site homes that are elevated. This is because they’re “strapped down.” They have steel rods running along their undersides in which strips of metal are wrapped around and attached to 3’ long screws that go down into the ground.

We’re thinking of getting one of those NuWave inductive cookers when we move. Love how the element it cooks on doesn’t get hot. Only the pots and pans get hot. It also boils water in just 90 seconds.

We both agree that during the first month, we’re going to basically spend it setting up and goofing off online catching up on what we couldn’t enjoy here. I want to find a commercial-less radio station with unlimited song-skipping, though I’ll probably have to pay for it. I want to catch up on movies and other videos and enjoy uploading and downloading high-resolution desktop wallpaper pics in no time at all. I can’t wait!

But then it’s back to work and back to the days of winning enough cash and prizes to equate to a part-time job in just 3-4 hours a day every day except maybe 1-2 on Sundays. Not as many sweeps come out on Sundays.

I will also get back on with my language studies and take one more shot at losing weight. Even though I’m more of a homebody than the outdoors type, I can’t wait to be out swimming, walking, riding my bike, etc.

MONDAY, JUNE 10, 2013 Aly just emailed me and said she had her own way of tracing IPs and called in a favor. Well, the sender of the message about being paranoid traces to Yuba, CA where Molly’s on-and-off friend, Jenny, lives. She said she can’t be 100% sure it’s her but thinks it probably is. She gave me her FB link so I could block her. Aly said it makes sense cuz she’s not only more of an attention whore than Molly, but she once buddied up to her just to get info for Molly. So it doesn’t surprise her that she’d be a long-time reader of my blog. Harmless or not, I’m not sure I like this ongoing obsession that will NEVER die and the idea of her knowing what’s up with me whether she’s online or not. Maybe it really is time to close the doors to the public and just blog for friends or on sites like OD where no one knows me, or so I believe.

I originally thought it was Molly’s mother, although I said it was she herself who contacted me in my public blog. That oughta shock the shit out of her to read! Even if it had been her mother like I first thought, she would still tell her darling daughter how her “friend” is doing and that she’s moving soon, though I purposely stated the wrong town in public.

When I learned who it was a chill came over me. I guess it’s because my life shouldn’t be the business of some crazy, obsessed, stalking troll who will NEVER change, that’s why. I never met this person. I’m not friends with this person. I never will be friends with this person either. I have no interest in her life and she should have no interest in mine. Why do so many people focus on those that hate them? Do they really have such a lack of self-respect?

I didn’t want to go private at first because I didn’t want to lock out those following me with good intentions and genuine interest, but I’d rather deprive the Mollys, Kims and Kathys of the world the right to know what’s going on with me, even if there’s no info they could use and abuse against me than worry about followers. I’m no longer open to making any more friends anyway after having too many people turn crazy on me. I will leave public blogs public for a little while longer so people can have a chance to know what’s going on, but then I will be sharing only with friends. No, friending me under a bogus name on MO or FB won’t work. I don’t accept friend invites anymore. Ask account #1 will probably be deactivated at some point too, but for now it's set to only allow questions from members.

I realize I could stay public and just ignore any messages that come in, but I think I’d rather “cheat” these nuts out of my life and let them stew in agony over wondering what’s going on with me.

Later…

I know some would say I was letting the trolls control me by turning blogs private or friends only, but actually, I feel more like it’s me controlling them at this point. If the obsessed stalkers aren’t reading themselves, they’re ordering little informants to do so for them as I’ve learned, and well, I’d like to deprive them of their reading pleasure at least for a while. So I’m sorry Jenny won’t be able to give me her “official” diagnosis of the day and then run and tell Molly that I just took a shower and came out stinking of bleach, thanks to that damn cock up the hill that’s obsessed with the shit.

19 more days of this unfuckingbelievably noisy landlord of mine! I swear if it isn’t his mutts, it’s HIM! Also, I don’t care what Tom says, this is NOT normal. It’s not normal to hear your ONE neighbor HUNDREDS of feet away nearly every single day. I know we’ll just have to deal with them at the new place, but they can’t be hammering, sawing and coming and going all day in such loud vehicles, or leaving large dogs outdoors round the clock.

I just hope to hell nothing else breaks in the next 19 days! Everything that’s critical has already broken and been fixed, though, so if anything it just makes it easier for the next people in here. Unless the brand-new pump on the cooler blows out or the fairly new water tank springs a leak, there’s not much else that could break that’s important to us. So what if the heater broke right now? No one will know it till November.

The car’s AC is leaking again, though. Yeah, that sky bastard really, really has something against us having an air-conditioned car, doesn’t He? That’s ok, within a year or so we’ll be getting a new car and this one will be just a backup. That is unless Kathy’s beloved sky daddy throws any kinks in our plans.

Andy’s due to return from Florida today. I’m glad I didn’t hear from him while he was gone cuz that’d probably mean he was bored out of his mind. To me, a vacation shouldn’t be about doing the same things (other than eating and breathing) that you do all the time anyway, although having internet access is still good for checking accounts and looking up directions and other info like that.

SUNDAY, JUNE 9, 2013 Why is letting go so damn hard for so many people? When Kathy dropped me like a hot potato for not being a God worshiper and for daring to tell her that none of my prayers were answered way back when I assumed that meant she was done with me and didn’t want anything to do with me. Period. Instead, she’s taken Molly and Kim’s place (with the help of others) to harass me on various sites and I don’t understand why. Why can’t she just let me go if she hated me enough to drop me in the first place? Even if she came out and apologized for being so narrow-minded, intolerant and unable to accept me as I am, I would probably accept the apology, but wouldn’t want to resume our friendship because I would feel I couldn’t trust her or confide in her. Obviously, she must truly feel sorry and have some regrets for throwing me away like that or else she wouldn’t be holding on like she is, even if it’s through others. Why else would she be unable to let go if it wasn’t for missing me and for regretting that she tossed me away like that?

Well, I’m sure that if she doesn’t read this, someone she knows will. So hopefully they’ll tell her that I’m sorry she’s sorry, but no hard feelings at this point, ok? Let’s just move on like two mature, civilized adults instead of hanging on to what once was and will never be again. You may have a lot of time on your hands, Kathy, but you’ve got your life and I’ve got mine and I really thought you were better than that. Playing a few pranks on someone who did shit to you like others have is one thing, but I never did anything to you other than tell you what you didn’t believe or want to hear. No one can or will agree on everything and you should be smart enough to know that. I’m surprised at you, Kathy, really, I am. I thought you were above and beyond these childish tactics. After all, you’re the one who dumped me. Well, why’d you dump me if you knew you couldn’t let go? And why follow my blog and other sites if you were so sure you didn’t want to continue on as friends?

As I used to tell Kim and Molly before Molly got kicked offline and I got Kim in trouble, let’s just ignore each other and go our separate ways, ok? We have nothing to offer each other. You hanging onto me and contacting me through your friends is not only pointless, but it only makes me think you’re sorry and want to be friends again. Why don’t we just strike a truce instead? You don’t contact me and I won’t contact you, ok? Really, I wish you and yours the best in life but I really don’t want to hear from you again and I don’t want to have to call your local PD either. Again, I really thought you were better than that and wouldn’t waste time on people you supposedly dislike. There are plenty of other people to focus on in a positive way. So I’m asking you to please just ignore me, ok? If you really are having a kid that should be what you should be focusing your time and attention on, not those you’re no longer friends with. So… goodbye and good luck!

Yesterday was a whopping 106°! The Jes pest was hammering at 8:30 yesterday morning and I just heard some now at 9:30. I’m guessing he’s going to drive me batshit crazy next week with the weeding and other prepping projects he may have in mind to do along with his own. I really hope the next people aren’t home much or at least don’t mind that this cock is always, always outside.

Still not sure if I’ll continue blogging publicly and which blogs I’ll use if I do, but I’m not going to decide that till the move.

The connection we’ll have will be 30 times faster than what we have now!

It’s hard to believe that in just 20 days we’re going to walk on out of here. Alive and well. Yes, the two people who were pushed to the brink of death and seemingly destined to go out in body bags will walk out of here alive and in one piece. Damn, life is amazing at times!

It was this day 21 years ago that I left New England, never ever to return again. I was skinny and I could see without glasses, but I didn’t have the love and the wisdom I do now. No matter how much any God has hated me or will continue to hate me, I will always be loved by Tom and others as well. Unless He kills them all, that’s one thing He can never take away from me like He took away my right to a decent childhood and so much more both as a child and as an adult.

I was remembering how my second foster mother starved me down to just 85 pounds. That alone is enough to let a person know they are hated from above, but thanks to my foster sister (she knows who she is) I was able to escape that place with my life as well cuz she was a lot bigger and tougher than I was. LOL, still is, too. But I escaped the same as I will this place after God let the economy damn near kill Tom and I both. Funny cuz His “killer economy” is also what dropped these 50K houses down to 28K, making it much easier for us to follow the yellow brick road home.

I’m standing there now on the very edge of that road, a place I never dared dream I would ever stand at any time again in my life. I’m not going to walk down this road as soon as we sign the papers and receive the keys. I’m going to run like hell down it as if the ghost of my evil mother is chasing me!

Later…

“If God hates you why would the police care about you?” Kathy asked me on Ask.

If God loves her why would the police NOT care about her? How does she know that if she doesn’t stop her relentless harassment done anonymously or through bogus email addies the cops won’t care enough about HER and putting a stop to it? Yeah, she should think about that, shouldn’t she?

I didn’t read her “feedback” on MD but saw the bogus addy in the email alert I got. I won’t be picking up any more feedback there no matter who it says it’s from, so if this angry and possibly still pregnant bitch doesn’t have anything better to do than waste time spewing all this hate that I still can’t fathom for the life of me (because I disagree on God?), then let her waste her time and let her set a wonderful example for the rugrat. It’s her time, isn’t it? I almost hope the miscarriage rumors aren’t true, cuz then she wouldn’t have much time to harass people online so much, would she, if she’s bogged down with a kid? Meanwhile, she’s welcome to start her own blog saying every mean, nasty, untrue and imagined thing she wants about me, but I’m not going to read her vicious delusions and childish gibberish that come in here anymore.

I had no idea Kathy was such an angry person. Where did all this hate, anger and immaturity come from? And WHY? Because I don’t agree with her on God? What’s she gonna do if she does have kids and they turn out atheist or something? Is she gonna dump them and then harass them every chance she gets?

Well, I’m not running! I’m not going to make any of my blogs private unless I decide to, and if I do, it will have nothing to do with Kathy.

I asked her nicely to please let me go. After all, she’s the one that dumped me. This is the first stalker I’ve ever had who’s not only supposedly sane despite how angry she is, but who dumped me first. So if she dumped me then why is she still hanging on? If I’m that horrible of a person, why bother? Isn’t the normal thing to do when you don’t like someone to just ignore them?

Or maybe I’m missing the point. Maybe this isn’t hate for my own hate for God. Maybe she had a thing for me all along and I just never knew it. This type of behavior is also typical of a “scorned lover” or a crush. I’ve done enough studying on bullies and whatnot. Maybe she’s had or came to have a crush on me, can’t handle it cuz she’s so conservative, and it’s freaking her out and into lashing out at me. Unfamiliar feelings can really make a person uncomfortable and do strange things. Who can ever know for sure what goes through these nutjob’s minds? All I do know for sure is that the “stable, kind, sweet, caring, sensitive, accepting, tolerant, open-minded” Kathy doesn’t exist. Sure thought she did for a while, though, but thinking back on how we played with Molly; that was far from her first time based on what she told me. “I never tell Aly when I fuck with Molly,” she had told me, obviously not wanting her to know. But now that she’s so coldly dumped me and then started harassing me (for whatever reason) I don’t feel obligated to keep her dirty little secrets. The point is, she’s obviously been into cyberbullying on and off for some time now cuz she and Molly go WAY back.

Presently, I wonder if she’s having a breakdown of some kind that’s causing her to behave this way. If she really did miscarry then maybe it’s making her feel better to lash out at anyone and everyone, and what better person to take it out on than the person who dared to confide in her and admit she’s no fan of God’s and has no respect, faith or love for the bastard whatsoever. Can’t like God as long as He puts angry trolls like Kathy on this earth.

Well, she may not be done with me, but I’M done with HER. I’m not going to give this sicko the negative attention it craves anymore than I would with other trolls! Sometimes we just gotta end what others won’t. I’m not going to delete past mentions of her here. After all, this is a diary, journal, blog - whatever you want to call it. But I think I might wipe her out of my Ask Q&A’s.

Later…

I told Aly what was going on and she asked about it, too. I asked if there was any Kathy info she could give me that she thought might be helpful in getting this bitch off my ass. I told her I was going to try ignoring her shit for now. Ask is back to non-anonymous and I’m not going to update MD with current stuff for a while. What’s scary is that she’s following my old stuff. Past, backdated entries, I mean. That’s not easy to do unless you specifically look for certain dates or catch it on the stream. You can have MD notify you when diaries are updated (if you’re a registered member), but it doesn’t link you to the entries themselves. Oh, wait a minute! She’s subbied to the RSS feed.

It’s way cooler today than it was yesterday. Yesterday we had the cooler on high for hours, but today it’s on low and is cycling on and off. Tomorrow’s supposed to be even cooler, making a nearly 30-degree drop in two days.

Later…

Got some interesting feedback for a change from… Mrs. M? They used a bogus addy and didn’t sign their name. Well, of course, right? rolls eyes Why are so many people afraid or at least reluctant to face me? I don’t bite. Really, I don’t. Whoever it was said: Paranoid schizophrenic. Not totally. But enough. No harm meant. Just an observation after reading for a long time. Knew the house was yours. Enjoy. But you will find reasons to complain. No half-full glass for you. But you, do you, really well. You are so lonely I could cry. Be well, and prosper. These are the good ole’ days. Peace. ~B~

LOL. Hey, just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean people aren’t out to get you, as the old saying goes. But yeah, I’ve got a degree of paranoia in me. Always have. When you’re afraid to go home after school for fear of your mother smacking the shit out of you, it has a way of instilling paranoia in you. Not saying this to try to make anyone feel sorry for me, but just making a point.

And yeah, I’m a complainer. Why? Well, I guess the “experts” may be inclined to say that it’s probably because I was forced to stifle my emotions as a child and therefore I feel compelled to let it all out, so to speak, as an adult. And you know what? I’m not going to stop, and I make no apologies for the way I am. As long as I don’t break any laws, then I can be the biggest complainer, bitch and paranoid schizo on earth. :) Without any guilt or shame.

What I don’t get is the “You are so lonely I could cry” line. She said she’s been reading for a long time, so shouldn’t she know I’m married? But married and lonely? I suppose some wives could feel that way if they’re neglected enough, but I’m far from neglected and lonely. :)

Well, thanks for the complisults, and you’re right, I do me well and I’m proud of it, too. :)

Again I wonder if it could be Mrs. M, but she supposedly hates my guts so why would she want to follow my blog? Then again, that’s what I wondered with a few others who have expressed their profound hatred for me as well. I seem to attract just as many readers and followers who don’t like me as I do who do like me. I always did say, you either love me or you hate me. There’s rarely an in-between and people don’t usually just like me. That’s the way it usually is with me. I guess I’m an addiction of sorts.

Do I hate Mrs. M? Nah. I don’t like how it took her forever to get a certain someone offline and into the help they need, but better later than never. She may be well educated, but she’s kinda scary and so I would prefer to stay away from her and like it when she does the same. I appreciate the well wishes (if they’re sincere), but now it’s onward and through the fog… to fill my half-empty water glass. No, no, no! I meant my half-full water glass! I really did. I swear!

SATURDAY, JUNE 8, 2013 Just 3 more weeks to go! It’s going to be 104° today but only 79° on Monday. The only sucky thing about having it be cooler during the week is that it helps pave the way for the Jes pest to be outdoors making a racket, but by then he’ll only have 19 days left to possibly get on my nerves.

I can’t wait to set up the new place and take tons of pics! But it won’t be 100% set up the way we want it to be the day we move in, of course. It may be a year or two before we recarpet and refloor the kitchen and baths. We’ll be picking out some new furniture right away, but the styles and colors will depend on what carpet I’ll eventually want to lay down. Then again, we also have to wait and see what furniture they leave us, LOL.

I’m looking forward to so many little things. Not just big things like having a fast, reliable connection after half a decade, but little things like rearranging our file box, getting an additional bathmat for the second bath, using our brand new towels, and being able to wash dishes in the dishwasher.

I’m glad we won’t need a shower curtain there. I hate shower curtains as opposed to doors. I’m also so glad we’ll have a full-size washer and dryer hooked up and ready for us to use. Damn, I miss that! Haven’t had that since 2004! June 12th will mark 9 years since we last owned a place. That was the day we left Maricopa and turned our 1999, 2100-square-foot home over to an investor and left. I’ll never forget the day I so tearfully stepped out of that house and into the RV filled with mixed emotions. We were glad to go, but I knew I’d miss some aspects of it. Had I known our plans to build a dome house on Bly Mountain in Oregon were to completely go to hell, I think I’d have totally cracked up that day as we slowly wound our way out of the desert and on up to timber country.

FRIDAY, JUNE 7, 2013 What would I do without Aly? She not only helps make up for the assholes of this world, but she makes for a wonderful informant as well. Not only did she tip me off on Mary’s account not being deactivated, but she thinks the whacky feedback I got on MD yesterday could be from Kathy’s brother. His rapper name is Young Toro and his thing is to write “creatively” and metaphorically like he did and make sure his gibberish rhymes.

If it weren’t for the person going on and on about Kathy on Ask, I just may suspect Dorene, since the writing is too intelligent to come from Kim. Dorene’s the type to harass those she has issues with because she used to proudly boast and brag on her wall when we were friends all about how she’d stalk and badger her exes and friends she either dumped or dumped her.

Would Kathy harass people? I KNOW she would because she and I are both guilty of harassing Molly, I’m sorry to say. So yeah, she would harass people or use others to do her dirty work for her. I left a few anonymous insults on Molly’s blog way back when with her (sorry!), but then felt bad about it because I knew I was stooping to Molly’s level. Well, I didn’t want to become what she and Kim were, so I pulled back and simply watched Kathy tease and insult her from the sidelines.

Toro asked why I was answering questions about her on Ask if I’m over her. Well, why is SHE having her family come at me if SHE’S over ME? She threw me away in a heartbeat simply for having different opinions and experiences after I stupidly trusted her enough to confide in her about how I prayed for so many things just to be ignored. I think Kathy is a spoiled little princess who has had everything granted to her and therefore she lacks empathy for those less fortunate. But why dump someone if you can’t let go of them?

Someday her precious God will take her down a peg or two and she will learn the true meaning of heartache and loss and what it’s like to not be able to obtain something in life. The bastard above will say, “No! Just fucking no, puta! You can’t have every single fucking thing you want in life. I don’t care how right, fair and correct it may be, this time you’re going to learn to do without!”

Then what will she think of her God? The same God that sits back and allows innocent kids to be killed and all kinds of other bad things to happen?

Other than the fact that Kathy had a beautiful smile and that she and Adam will probably make good parents (don’t know how they’ll afford it but I’m sure they’ll have plenty of friends and family ready to hand over anything they may need) I don’t care what happens to Kathy from here on out. Walking down the street and seeing someone kick her brood right outa her supersized gut wouldn’t faze me any more than seeing someone water their yard would.

Mark my words, though. I’m NOT a forgiving person, I will NEVER be Kathy’s friend again, and I AM over her. As long as she and her people don’t make trouble for me, there will be no reason to ever mention her ever again. The only one who can choose to let go or hang on from here on out is HER.

Later…

Andy’s going to Florida till the 10th. I hope he has a fun time! He asked why Tom wasn’t scheduling the Internet to be turned on upon our arrival in our new home, and so I asked Tom about that. He is going to schedule it, but first he needs to know exactly when the people there will be gone. We’ll buy the new modem and router on Amazon, then have the office make the switch, then we’ll hook things up when we get over there. We could lease their modems, but then it’d cost more.

We’re also getting insurance. We had a choice of getting a plan for $200 that gives you any money back that you’ve already spent on the house if it ever burned down, then there’s a $450 plan that replaces the house with anything up to a value of $84,000. We decided to go for the second plan.

Gotta go sign the park lease next Thursday. sighs There’s always something to pay even if your place is all paid for – space rent, HMO fees, co-op fees, property tax, etc. It’s all the same, just with different names and amounts.

Sometimes I think I should start following the news a little more closely and especially the celebs so I can know who the hell Andy’s talking about when he mentions them. It’s just that the news has always bored or depressed me, and I haven’t been a celebrity worshiper in eons. The older I got the more I came to see them as just people. They may be famous and sometimes they make a lot of money, but they’re just people. So unless you’ve got brains, maturity and something really interesting to say, I’m bound to see most famous people the same as the nobodies.

He asked if Paris Jackson’s suicide attempt prompted me to share my thoughts on the matter the other day, but nope. Not only did I not know who the hell she was till I googled her, but much of my writing is spontaneous. Whatever comes to mind that I feel like writing about, I will write about. Some of it is inspired by people and invents, of course, like what’s going on in my life and those I’m close to, but sometimes it’s totally random and just because I love to write.

I have no idea why, but Jesse (could’ve been the kid) buzzed by on the ATV yesterday afternoon. groans Projects, projects, projects. They’re bound to start any day now. Maybe not until next week, though, since it’s to be in the triple digits. Right now it’s driving me crazy gunning the shit out of the fucking motorcycle. I cranked up the music, but am going to have to think of other alternatives to deal with the one I gotta deal with diagonally from us in the park since loud music isn’t allowed there.

Later…

It’s a super hot day at 103°. It’s not usually this hot until late July/early August. Tom got home earlier than usual and is going over the paperwork for the home insurance thing.

We’re at 17% on propane, another thing I won’t have to worry about anymore. I was worried there’d be too much left in the tank when we left and that we’d basically end up paying for the next people to shower, cook, and possibly heat themselves too, depending on the time of year. I also worried the Jes pest would be overpaid if we were to leave significantly earlier than we thought we would.

Tom told me he read that Richard Ramirez died of liver failure. Well, that’s good cuz San Quentin obviously had no plans to do the right thing and execute the crazy fuck. The families of the victims must be cheering. I don’t blame them.

Was on a posting frenzy the last two days, but now I think I’ll go continue on with the book I’m reading, The Answer to Your Question.

THURSDAY, JUNE 6, 2013 I was observing a discussion on suicide and found that there really are a few people, who like me, agree that it isn’t always so cut and dry. Sure, we’d like to think that suicide is never an option under any circumstances and that things can and will always get better. But can they always? Or are there perhaps some situations where things can’t possibly improve? Situations that are so miserable that suicide is an alternative that is a blessing as opposed to continued suffering? I used to be a very black-and-white person and insisted that things had to be one way or the other and that was that. Period. There was no room for any argument in my mind. There are still some issues in which I feel that way. A woman should always have a full bag of rights to her body. There’s nothing to doubt, reason, bargain or argue about there.

But there really are some cases in which death is better than life. Naturally, it’s a matter of opinion, but I’m talking about the terminally ill who suffer in pain every day with no hope of a cure. Until you’re faced with possible life or death situations, you don’t rethink certain things you were so sure of before. Such things as we had to face like the possibility of dying a slow miserable death on the streets, or a quick one in the comfort of our own bed if no one was going to give him a job. I know that if I were suddenly faced with life in prison (whether I was guilty or not of whatever landed me there) I’d prefer death because that would simply be no life for me.

Again, I realize it’s a matter of opinion, but maybe we shouldn’t be so quick to judge those who do take their lives. Agreeing that it’s too bad that it came to that is ok. But do we really have a right to judge WHY they took their lives and whether or not it was right or wrong? Can we really say life would’ve gotten better for them?

Experiencing certain things and hearing about other people’s situations can really open your mind and make you realize that not everything in life is so black and white. There really are some gray areas and some exceptions to the rule.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 5, 2013 Alison knows and understands how I feel about Kathy and how some people get it all. She admits that she’s had secret wishes that a few people would lose their kids, but not Kathy. Still, she says that Kathy is obnoxious going on and on all about “little blueberry” and she wishes she wouldn’t post so much about it. Not everyone’s into little kids, as she says, and she doesn’t like it being crammed down her throat. That’s how I felt too, and I had to block her from my newsfeed before she dumped me. It was too much like having religious hogwash thrown in my face day after day. So she kinda picked a good time to dump me. Still, if there is a God up there playing favorites as it seems to be the case with Kathy, I wish it would say “NO!” to her for once and let her finally learn at 30-something years old what it’s like to not be able to get every single thing you want in life. So while I don’t doubt she’d make a good mom, I still wish God would say, “No! Just fucking no!” Then kick the bun outa her oven, never to allow any more to enter it ever again. But once you get to the third or fourth month, it’s unlikely you’ll have a miscarriage.

Alison wonders how they’ll live since Adam’s a teacher and teachers don’t make much money. Also, Kathy’s a sub and she’s off for the summer. Oh, I’m sure they have plenty of friends and family who will be quick to hand over anything they’ll need.

The palpitations are back. They’re most noticeable at the end of the day. Ironically they started up the day we learned we were accepted into the park, but it’s harmless. Just annoying at times. It’s probably due to being excited and nervous. Although I’m sure Tom’s right in saying I’ll be able to sleep just fine there, I gotta see it to actually lose my nervousness. I’m not used to having so many people close by, and if I happen to be woken up regularly when I’m on nights due to this, this or that, I’m kinda fucked. Lack of sleep is something I don’t function well on. But I should be fine on days.

Tammy left a message yesterday. She’s dealing with Mark’s health issues now, and then in the fall, she’ll be going to a hospital about her lungs. I asked her if it was really wise to wait that long, but that could be a good thing. I mean, wouldn’t it go to show she’s not that critical after all? I hope not! Maybe they won’t need to do a transplant. Maybe they can stop her from losing any more lung capacity, but what do I know?

I smiled when she said she and Mark would be “hurt” if they couldn’t be the first to send a housewarming gift. I told them that while that was sweet of them, they didn’t have to send anything since we’ll still have a lot of money in savings. We just don’t want to spend much money at first in case of an emergency. We’ll furnish the place a little at a time, though we will get a living room set right away. Not everything needs replacing. The bed is just fine. We’ve got a decent enough kitchen table. Only problem is it’ll look like doll furniture in the dining room there, LOL, so our little 2-seater will be replaced with a 4-seater. Some things we don’t want to replace or buy right away with or without money because we want to live in the place for a while and get a feel for how we want things and where we want them.

Tom said not to get my hopes up, but Brenda asked if we needed any beds, tools, etc. Tom told her that we didn’t want to spend more money till we’d been there a few months, but that we would love whatever they felt like leaving. A bed for the second bedroom would be nice, and even though most of the furniture wouldn’t be my first choice style-wise, we could use it. Anything we didn’t like or couldn’t use could be picked up by the Goodwill later on. Their kids and grandkids are helping them move out, so there’s no need to worry about them not having enough help. Again, I feel mixed emotions for them. I’m grateful for whatever they leave us, I’m sad for them because they probably don’t really want to leave, but I also see them as intruders at this point. Get out of our house!

Since Tammy insisted, I gave her a few ideas like wind chimes. I’m going to have a lot more room for those there! I may want to get bigger ones so I can hear them through the thicker walls and dual-paned windows.

Later…

Nane’s going to Spain and I’m happy for her! Although it may not be her first choice I can see where all that would matter would be getting some sun after being rained on for so long. It’s the first trip she’s going on that I feel a touch of envy. :) I wouldn’t mind tagging along and I could be her interpreter too, haha. I guess she’ll be gone when the move takes place, but that’s a good time for her to take off cuz I won’t be online much at that time anyway, which reminds me of something I want to point out. During the tail end of June and beginning of July, if you have trouble reaching me it’s not that I’m ignoring you. I’m just preoccupied with moving and setting up the new place, is all, plus there’ll be more outdoor activities for me to enjoy there as well. Don’t know how soon we’ll be back online, but we’ll have the hot spot for checking email. Blogs and such will wait till we get our regular connection, though, cuz uploading and downloading take up too much bandwidth. I’ll still prepare entries in Word and will have them ready for publication as soon as they can be published.

24 days and counting! I am both excited and nervous. :) A part of me will always resent how shabbily we’ve lived for so long, especially since it was so undeserving. Had we been drunks, druggies, lazies and people who just didn’t give a rat’s ass, including ours, then we’d have gotten what we deserved – someone else’s trashy trailer. It was a wonderful escape after 8 months of motel life in a seedy section of Sac but for half a decade?! Well, we’ll never let any economy, circumstances, fate or evil God make bums of us again, that’s for sure! My God, it pisses me off to think of how long we’ve had to live this way and go without the simplest of things in life, things most people take for granted. As I always said, it isn’t those who work hard getting good things they deserve in life I have a problem with, it’s those working hard who DON’T get good things they too, deserve that pisses me off.

Someone asked on Ask if I thanked God we’re moving. rolls eyes Actually I thank my husband’s hard work, good-paying job, and my inheritance. To quote what I told them, why would I thank an invisible entity that has nothing to do with us moving? The house was built by PEOPLE. The park it’s in was established by PEOPLE. So… God has nothing to do with this, folks. If anything God’s fought to stop this day from happening and a part of me worries about little “punishments” to come for getting our way, even though we know it should be the other way around and the house should be the compensation for having to struggle for so damn long. But I’m not going to let anything or anyone take this place away from us. We lost two places and that’s it!

Tom read the park rules and said the only thing in it that might rub me the wrong way is that they ask that you don’t go to the pool alone. Well, not everyone there is old and feeble, but since so many of them are, I understand this request. The only thing that rubs me the wrong way is the allowing of motorcycles. That just seems all wrong and totally defeats the purpose of why people want to live there. At least we won’t have to worry about loud music. I realized why it bugs me so much and that’s because it’s not “music.” All I hear is the thump of the drums or the base and so it’s noise, not music. And annoying too, like someone’s pounding or hammering somewhere.

I haven’t seen it yet, but Tom’s got a diagram of all the plants on the property so we know what’s ours. I figure the low cement wall is the property marker, but at least there is only 1 of 4 sides to have to figure out whose stuff is whose.

The Jes pest, who Tom called yesterday to inform him of the official dates, was hammering this morning, probably on his deck. I’m sure the barrage of prepping projects is going to start anytime now too, though it’s going to be super hot this week.

Later…

I answered the question of the day on Ask #1 which asks who’s the funniest person you know with: Anyone who dares kick Kathy in the gut and shows the spoiled princess she can’t get every single fucking thing she wants in life.

“Are you serious?” someone later asked. How would they know that gut was carrying her precious “little blueberry” unless it was Kim or Kathy herself?

Also, someone over there took the liberty of sending me a long list of mental illnesses, their names and their descriptions, but of course it was sent from a bogus email address. scratches head thoughtfully And they sent this because…?

Later…

Not much to do right now so I thought I’d voice my opinion on Nancy Grace. If you’re like most people you mostly see the media as legal gossip mongers acting like “popular” high school bullies who seem to be able to say anything they want and get away with it. So what if it’s the word of those they’ve never taken the time to verify, or if it may be completely fabricated altogether?

I don’t know everything about the Jodi Arias case but I know enough. It’s kind of hard to help when it’s all over the place. However, I’m a little disturbed by Nancy’s obsession with Jodi. Telling the facts as a reporter is one thing. Going on and on with repetitious, relentless, and never-ending verbal bashing, no matter how true it may be and how much the person may deserve it, can’t possibly be very productive or healthy. It’s too high schoolish. You know, like the popular student who jumps online every chance she gets to bash her fellow students who are anything but popular?

We all know Jodi Arias is a cold-blooded killer, and I’m sorry she probably won’t get the death penalty, but enough is enough already! Aren’t there other people, places and subjects to discuss? Nancy’s already stated the facts and she’s already voiced her hatred and opinion of Jodi, but then she goes and interviews Jodi’s cellmates to see what they think of her. Who cares what they think of her! Yet it’s like Nancy just can’t move on. She is in one video or article after another saying the same vicious things. Again, I don’t doubt that they’re true, and I’m certainly no fan of Jodi’s, but my God! Does it actually make Nancy feel better to bash people over and over again? Is her own life that boring and does she perhaps feel that insecure and inadequate about her own self that she feels the constant need to do this sort of thing? I just wonder these things when I see the media cut into people over and over with seemingly no end in sight.

I feel bad for the families, though, and not just the victim’s family. Jodi’s parents have to be ashamed, embarrassed and downright heartbroken over her conviction. So to have to have the constant reminders of the media vultures must be one helluva nightmare for those poor people.

TUESDAY, JUNE 4, 2013 “Hey, Short Shit,” my dead father called out to me in my dreams last night. Not something he usually called me in real life. Shorty, Shrimp or Midget was more like it. Nonetheless, I got into an argument with my deceased dad over deadbeat aunts and uncles. He was going on and on about how his aunts and uncles never seemed to care about him or wanted to be an aunt or an uncle to him in any way.

“Dad,” I said, “you don’t need to tell me all about aunts and uncles that don’t give a damn about their nieces or nephews. I know.”

He looked at me in a disapproving way and said he’d see about us “getting together.”

“It’s too late, Dad. If they wanted to know me they would have by now. No hard feelings at this point, and I really do wish them the best, but I don’t want to know them anymore than they want to know me. There are better things in life than deadbeat family and toxic friends.”

In the next dream, both parents were alive and well. Only I was thinking about how my mother killed her parents. She did no such thing when she was alive, of course, and they actually died of old age-related issues. Still, in the dream she had killed them, though I don’t know why. Everyone else believed it was due to natural causes that they died, but my dream self was thinking how oh-so typical it was of Dad to protect her by not saying anything. I thought about going to the authorities but didn’t think it’d do me much good, and was never much of a nark anyway.

Facebook is really pissing me off with all its glitches. Sent messages don’t get sent, wall posts remain invisible, comments go unseen, and so on and so forth. I almost can’t wait for the day they start charging users cuz I’m outa there as soon as they do.

So why is Philip ignoring me? He’s viewed some journal entries posted to my group, but he still isn’t sending messages or posting to my walls or anything. Cat got his tongue, or is FB just seeing to it that messages and posts go unseen?

Later…

Wow, we’re gonna hit 104° this Saturday. It’s definitely getting hotter and drier each year here. Wonder if it’s going to become like Arizona.

Although I heard a slew of loud vehicles up the hill yesterday, the Jes pest never came down here. That’s ok. In about 25 days we’re out of here! Although I don’t think I can do it I’m gonna try my hardest to stay on days until after the move. I really hope those who say that time has no meaning in the afterlife are right! Especially after living in a world where time is everything while you’re one of about every 10,000 whose body disagrees.

Anyway, we plan to give notice saying we should be out by the 5th, though we actually hope to be out on Tom’s birthday on the 28th. He put in for that Friday, plus the following Monday off, so that gives us 4 days to get moved. Tom hates driving big trucks, so this way we rent a smaller one and if we can’t fit everything in it in one sweep, we have time to make a few extra runs. Because we’re not taking the shed, we got a truck that’s 10’ long.

We decided not to bother with spraying and having the carpet cleaned beforehand so Tom doesn’t have to take any more time off from work. We’ll bomb when we get there if need be, throw the rats in the workshop, then do some shopping or eating or whatever during the time we need to be out of the house. Also, we can rent a carpet cleaner for $30 if we want. This way he’ll still have plenty of days off for Hawaii. Just think, a house and Hawaii all in the same year!!!

I wonder how many neighbors will come out to greet us out of nosy curiosity when we move in? Hopefully not too many! Being polite and exchanging hellos when we see each other here and there is one thing, but we’re going there to live, not to make friends and potential trouble too close to home. But if it were a hot-looking woman…

MONDAY, JUNE 3, 2013 When I awoke I said to myself, please don’t let it be the other way around where yesterday’s letter was just a dream while in reality we’re still waiting, hoping and dreaming of getting into the park/house!

But what happened yesterday really did happen and in 30-38 days we’re going home!!! squeals with delight Tom came home from picking up the mail with a smile on his face.

“Anything good?” I asked.

“Well, if you consider them accepting us into the park, then yes.”

Instead of my face flooding with tears of joy or shouting with delight, my whole body went rigid with shock and then started vibrating like an old lonely lady’s vibrator in the middle of a cold dark night. “Omigod, Omigod, Omigod!!!” was all I could mutter.

We weren’t expecting a letter so soon. We were expecting a phone call next week instead. Tom’s first thought was that they rejected us, figuring that they couldn’t have approved us that fast and must’ve stumbled upon something really bad right away, though we couldn’t imagine what.

Logic told me we’d get the place since we do meet their requirements as strict as they are, but only until he read the letter of acceptance to me could I finally move on from hoping we’ll get the house to hoping we’ll be as happy as we think we will be there. Remember, Maricopa turned out to be a disaster, and of course Oregon fell apart, too. I know I shouldn’t live in the past, but that, plus the poverty we went through, has given me a lifelong case of PTSD. No matter how much money we have – and we estimate we’ll still have at least 4K in savings after the move – I’m still going to worry about that. I’ll never forget a letter of a very different kind he read to me on September 16th of 2011 that literally made my heart jump into my throat and then sink to the pit of my stomach in a physical way that no bad news had ever done before.

I still can’t believe that we, the people who seemed so, so destined to go out of here in body bags, will be going home to a NICE home in a FANCY park!!! You don’t have to be rich to live at LV, but you do have to have some money. Just surviving to see this day happen is truly incredible! We searched and searched our minds less than two years ago for ways to survive. But everything we came up with looked utterly impossible. When no one will give you a job and your government won’t take care of you, what’s left? I couldn’t have cut it on the streets in my 20s, so I’d say we’re definitely way too old for that sort of thing in our 40s and 50s, and so, so glad it didn’t come to that after coming so frighteningly close!

Tom and I both agree that the day the phone rang with a job in the nick of time was definitely the biggest coincidence of our lives. Most things don’t need a reason to happen. They just happen. Period. I know most people want to believe there’s a reason because it’s easier to be able to explain things, but I think most things happen just because. But that day surely made us wonder if perhaps the spirits of our deceased loved ones bailed us out in the end – since if any God existed it had already shown us we were nothing in its eyes and couldn’t care less if we lived or died – as they’re the only ones who would have cared enough to save our asses. Not just that but because of the job itself. It wasn’t just enough to get by on, it was more than enough to change our lives forever and keep my sister from being able to say she lost both parents AND both siblings.

Assholes or not it will be weird not being able to call my parents to tell them all about the new house, and I wonder if they can “see” it from wherever they are if they somehow still exist. I’ll never forgive them for the hell they inflicted upon me as a child, but I can definitely say that other than the time they sent me to Arizona in ‘92, then pulled us off the streets of Sacramento in ‘07, that they have certainly been more helpful to me dead than alive. I hope they can see where we are right now and are ashamed and disgusted with themselves for letting us live like this for so long when there was so much more they could’ve done to help us. Oh, I can’t wait to shoot the before and after pics!

So much more to write, but this entry’s getting kinda long, so I’ll save it for later!

Later…

After being nipped in the ass by a playful rat while trying to work my abs, I’m now going to do some writing before I eat and tackle some housework. And deal with what I’m sure will be a very annoying landlord now that it knows we’re leaving. LOL, but soon he’ll be just a memory!

Brandy really let a few loud ones rip last night at around 3am. Maybe it woke Jesse from nightmares of his future tenants chasing him through these woods with an ax, haha.

So many thoughts and emotions run through my mind at this time. I’m excited, nervous and happy. I look forward to so many things in our new home, both big and small. I just hope we don’t find out that next door has a motorcycle that was out at the times we were there, or that they don’t plan to get one the day we move in. I know it may be hard for anyone without my type of sleep issues to understand why I worry about being able to sleep well there when I’m on nights, especially being the insanely light sleeper that I am, but that’s ok. I figure I don’t owe any explanations anyway, right? But since I don’t have the blessing of being able to sleep at night every night, and I’m not like Tom who could sleep through a marching band, it’s definitely something I worry about. Not too much, but I do worry a little. At least there shouldn’t be that many distractions while I’m awake, though I still expect to hear more than I do here since there are more people.

I’m SO glad we got outbid on the last house! I almost suggested we not bother with this park because I didn’t think we stood a chance as nice as it is.

The “nice man and the young lady” taking over the house kind of feels bad for the old couple in it now (whose status has been officially upgraded to intruder in my mind) because they probably hate to go. It’s sad to think that they’re giving up the home they were probably in for many years just to go to an assisted living apartment to begin the end of their lives.

Well, I’m not going to smoke up their house, that’s for sure. So I’m burning what’s left of my incense like crazy. Anyone want some honeysuckle?

Just a little over a month left with this slow, unreliable connection! And oh what fun I’ll have swimming, riding my bike around the park, learning new languages, and just having some SPACE! To be in a spacious home that isn’t as old or older than I am is going to be pure heaven. It’s worth a few annoyances and distractions so long as I can sleep.

Later…

Mary checked my email again when she got up yesterday morning, but there hasn’t been anything from Maliheh. She’s had absolutely nothing to say to me about my final message to her and that pretty much tells me something about her right there. That I was right on with my suspicions. She was never a friend.

Today is Becky’s 26th birthday, and yesterday morning I got to hear Sarah on the radio promoting her charity event. She was a guest on a local radio station to help raise money for St. Jude’s Hospital. She sounded a bit gruff but confident. She kind of reminded me of my friend Paula.

There’s been flooding in parts of Germany, but fortunately, Nane’s not in any danger. I knew they were cold and rainy for June, but I had no idea about the flooding. I read some news articles (in German, of course) she shared on the crisis. So I got to learn about what’s going on in parts of Europe and practice my German reading.

Created a group on Facebook to share journals with my closest FB friends, but didn’t add Andy or Adonis cuz they prefer to read my posts elsewhere. Not sure I like it yet. I like how I can see who checks out what, though. It’s a secret group. Groups have 3 levels. Open, closed and secret, and mine’s secret, which means only members can see it and leave comments. If you’re a Facebook friend of mine and you haven’t received an invite to the group but would like to be a member, let me know and I will add you.

Just to clarify things for those who have been curious, the park is set up very much like co-op living. But instead of the monthly payment being called co-op, fee or whatever, it’s called space rent. It covers more than just the space your home is on, though. It helps pay for the cost of keeping the pools, Jacuzzis, clubhouses, roads, gates, security, lake, trees and other amenities going. So it’s very similar to co-op living.

One thing I’m going to love is how much more stable the temperature inside the house will be. No more cold nights and warm days. Metal rooftops run alongside both long sides of the house, which will definitely help keep it cooler, and there’s a big awning in front. Only the back doesn’t have anything but that’s because there are no windows back there. All that’s back there are the bedroom closets and hot water tank. I hate having to sleep with a mask over my eyes cuz it’s so damn bright in here when I sleep during the daytime. This is because here we have a swamp cooler rather than an AC and so I have to keep the back window cracked, which gets hit by the afternoon sun.

The tentative plan is for him to work till he’s 70 and put our pension money in our 401K until then. That way, between what he gets and my pension and whatever else, we’ll be looking at retiring with about 3K a month. That’s almost what he makes now! Plus, if we do decide to stay at LV forever, our space rent is locked in. So only other things could go up in cost between now and 14 years from now. As Tom said, it’s scary to think he’ll be 70 in 14 years! His dad would’ve been 101 last month if he were still alive.

I knew it. I just fucking knew it. I hear the Jes pest buzzing around on its ATV right now. Let me guess… it’s gonna be down here any second, right?

SATURDAY, JUNE 1, 2013 Is this the month? Is this the month we go home or at least find out when we are? I really hope this is it! I feel like we’ve been waiting for years. There’s so much we’ve wanted to do for so long that either couldn’t be done until we moved or that we chose to put off until then. I just want to get on with it already!

In screening and publishing old journal excerpts, I realize I could really be stupid, immature and naïve at times when I was younger. I suppose a lot of us look back on our younger selves when we get older and laugh. But some of it isn’t very funny. I spent too much time considering others and not enough considering myself. There’s a good way to be selfish, like being true to yourself, and there’s a bad way to be selfish, like sitting on your ass and doing nothing at all to help a friend in need that you know damn well you can afford to help.

I spent too much time trying to make like I was ok with things I wasn’t at all ok with, and due to trying to just put a smile on my face and simply shrug and roll with the punches, I lost out on some things. These things may never have been mine to have to begin with had they not been meant to be, but I could really kick myself for either trying to please others and not standing up for myself as often as I should have. I was just too damn nice and too damn forgiving and part of that is why I got so taken advantage of at times. People just don’t appreciate kindness. Instead, they see it as an opportunity to pounce like vultures to get what they want, be it in the name of greed, jealousy or just plain hate.

I ranted, raved and bitched quite a bit throughout the years, often about the same thing, but I did it as a therapeutic means. Where some listen to music and others like to drink, I bitch in print. I may feel silly, stupid and even a touch embarrassed for some of the things I’ve written, but one thing I will never feel is guilt. Right or wrong, selfish or not, my feelings, beliefs, opinions, tastes, goals and thoughts are one thing I’ll never feel guilty for. Our minds are the only place we have total freedom. There are no laws or rules in our minds, no matter how wrong and even sick some may consider some of our thoughts to be. In my mind, I’m free to imagine anything I want with absolutely no consequences to face, and I never have to share what’s in that imagination if I don’t want to. I’m free to do anything I want there. I’m free to love. I’m free to hate. Even free to kill.

Later…

I saw that Mary finally picked up the email I sent her, but I still don’t want anything to do with her and I appreciate the fact that she, Molly, Kim and Kathy have been leaving me alone. I STILL can’t believe Kathy dumped me for disagreeing with her on God! I know this may be the cruelest thing to say, and as I told Aly, she may want to slap me for it, but I hope she loses that baby. I honestly do! I am so, so sick of seeing some people get it all (LITERALLY) while people like Aly and I struggle our asses off just to get nowhere. It’s like all Kathy has to do is just want something and it’s hers. There may be a bit of a delay, but in the end, if God does play favorites, she sure is His spoiled little princess, isn’t she? Well, I think it’s high time she was taken down a peg or two. The only thing she seems to have going against her is her weight, but not even that much seems to bother her. Really, I would love to see her precious God kick that bun right out of her oven and not allow anymore to enter it unless He keeps on kicking. And no, I don’t care if she knows how I feel. I’m kind of surprised she hasn’t harassed me in some way. Do you know that she loved to harass Molly on and off, I asked Aly, and that she begged me not to tell her? Well, after what she did to me I sure as hell don’t feel obligated to keep her little secrets.

I was reading back on how a prayer counselor was telling me back when I wanted a kid that God promotes that kind of thing and that all I have to do is ask, and He’ll grant anything that’s fair, correct and reasonable. OMG, what bull fucking shit! What wasn’t “fair, correct or reasonable” about two people asking to have a child?!”

Anyway, Aly’s doing just horribly. She didn’t get the job she wanted, her hours may be cut where she currently works, her skin is broken out, she can’t sleep, she’s depressed, overwhelmed and feeling hopeless, and lastly, she gets laughed at by some kid selling tickets at a movie theater and called a retard for stuttering. At least she reported the fucker.

On top of all that, her Facebook account was hacked by what she suspects may be friends of Molly’s due to the types of messages she’s been getting. They even messaged a friend of hers who just gave birth, asking if they could be the baby’s godmother. I’m surprised I haven’t gotten any messages, though I went and blocked that account. This way, they not only can’t post to my wall, but they don’t even see my name unless they check her messages. As usual, Facebook isn’t doing shit about it.

Tom said the Jes pest took the news as he expected he would. His tone was neutral and he was just like, “Yeah, ok, uh-huh, oh.” He probably wasn’t surprised due to the mail we received here from the mortgage company. If he’s upset by us leaving in any way, he’s not showing it. I would think he’d be at least somewhat bummed out over knowing he’ll have the hassle of prepping this place, listing it, and hunting for new renters, even if he’ll make his sister do most of the work. She has to since he doesn’t have a computer and I highly doubt he has a digital camera either. Also, I can’t picture him cleaning his own place let alone this one, so he’ll sic most of the task on Maryann just like he did before. Wonder if they’ll start off bullshitting the new tenants about “the neighbor,” like they started to with us till they realized we wouldn’t pester the Jes pest and that it’d be the other way around instead.

We blew the pilot out of the heater which better be for the last time. If we’re here come November when we need heat again, then yes, there really is something up there trying to screw us.

I did have another dream I hope is a good sign that the park will accept us. We were at the pool where there were a few other people wanting to know why I looked so young and if I was old enough to live there, LOL. We won’t know for sure until next week if they’re even going to accept us or not.

No, I haven’t prayed that we get in because I still think that if we could simply ask for whatever, then we’d all have what we want. I think the concept of prayer is nothing more than wishful thinking. Same with telling ourselves God doesn’t give us more than we can handle. Then why do some people die of illnesses and injuries? Sure seems like it was more than they could handle! I understand, though, that people need to tell themselves these kinds of things for encouragement, even if they may be kidding themselves.

Tom’s been doing the loan paperwork over the weekend, and I’m doing laundry and housework. The weather’s been hot and dry, as I like it to be. Ich liebe Sommer!

0 notes

sehunniepotwrites · 4 years ago

Text

caught in your web | m.l

🕷SYNOPSIS— in which you can’t stand mark getting hurt anymore, not when you’re madly in love with him 🕷GENRE— mcu!au, spiderman!au, fluff, suggestive 🕷PAIRING— spiderman!mark lee x person in the chair!reader (gn) 🕷WORD COUNT— 1771

🕷WARNINGS— mentions of violence and battles, cleaning wounds, making out (lmao)

🕷AUTHOR’S NOTE—day two of my mark lee breakdown and i came up with this. i have been in love with the idea of spider!mark ever since i’ve read @xiaomoon‘s leap of faith and i finally got to write my own version of peter marker ;;; hope y’all enjoy this! (briefly edited, some mistakes may remain!)

—🕸🕷—

You don’t exactly remember how and when it all went down, but to sum it all up, your best friend of all time is Spiderman and you’re his person in the chair. You’re the J.A.R.V.I.S. to his Tony Stark or are you his F.R.I.D.A.Y.? You can’t be his Karen because his Karen is the user interface of his current suit— never mind that, that’s not really relevant.

The most important takeaways from this are that:

your best friend, Mark Lee, is the newest addition to the Avengers

you’re the mastermind behind the computer that guides him through New York City

And lastly, you’re in love with that dumbass of a superhero.

At first, you were mad that Mark didn’t tell you. Then, you were quite surprised that he kept a secret from you for that long— that boy has a hard time keeping his mouth shut.

When you first found out, Mark in full superhero garb entered his room through the window while you were impatiently waiting for him on his bed with a Death Star Lego set in hand. You dropped the almost complete set out of shock and it shattered to pieces. Mark, with his red and black mask in hand and a suit that clung to his surprisingly fit body so perfectly (like honestly, when did he look like that?), made you promise that you would never tell his Aunt May. You linked your smaller pinky with his own, swearing not to tell but on one condition— that you could be his person in the chair.

Being behind-the-scenes while in the chair is extremely thrilling. Sure, you have no superpowers to contribute to the fight but you have the brains and the technology to help Mark in any way you possibly could. You tell him the best possible route with Karen backing you up and Mark will blindly follow. You are his tracker, eyes in the sky, and his safety net—you have his complete trust.

The worst thing about being his person in the chair, though, is watching Mark get hurt in action and knowing there is not much you can do about it without physically being there. Watching the person you love get hurt—no matter how enhanced their body was—is beyond taxing. You never know if he’s going to make it and it kills you inside when you’re barking commands into your headset, calling for Karen to activate the best mode to get Mark out of the battle site. It tears you to absolute pieces and that’s how you ended up here, in your bedroom with violent tears running down your cheeks.

Mark is laying down on your bed with his torso resting against your lap. His mask is discarded somewhere on your bedroom floor while the top half of his suit is peeled off his injured body. You’re crying, hands trembling as he’s gasping for air and wincing every time you attempt to clean a wound.

“How could you be so reckless, Mark?!” you scold him through a hushed whisper. You press another alcohol-soaked swab onto a cut. He hisses, his hand squeezing your knee to keep him from screaming. “You’re an idiot!”

Mark is groaning, body twisting and turning while sinking his teeth onto his bottom lip. You can tell he wants to scream but your parents are home and you don’t want them to walk into this gruesome sight. They think you’re just up to your usual game playing.

“I had to!” Mark argues back. His nose is scrunched up and you can just see how much pain he’s in. You want to do nothing but kiss the pain away but there were more pressing matters to attend to, like disinfecting all the cuts scattering his body. “They were heading this way, to this neighborhood. To you!”

God, you hate how headstrong and stubborn he is at times. “And that matters why? I can easily reroute you and you know that! For some reason, you chose not to listen and now you’re badly hurt and you’re bleeding a lot and I can’t even take you to the hospital and—”

“Hey, hey, hey, no, no, no. None of that, okay? It’s fine, I’m fine.” He must’ve sensed how the panic was seeping through your veins with his spidey senses or maybe Mark just knew you well enough.

“See?” Mark gestures to an arm you had already patched up. The cuts you already tended to look so much better than before and the bruises are healing faster than the normal rate.

“I’ll be fine in a day or two, bubs,” he reassures you with a pained smile. That didn’t reassure you at all.

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what— ow, fuck, you’re pressing too hard, ow— what is?” Mark tries to wriggle away and you press a hand onto his firm chest (oh my god, seriously, how is he built like this?) to keep him still.

You’re done dressing his wounds and you take in the number of supplies you’ve used to tend to him.

The battles out there are getting worse and the teenager just comes up more battered and bruised. You don’t know much longer you can take seeing your best friend like this. You’re so caught up in him and you can’t leave. You feel as if Mark shot some of his web fluid at you and suddenly, you’re just trapped in this ridiculous web of love and you can’t fight your way out of it.

“If you keep acting recklessly, there will be no more friendly neighborhood Spiderman!” You can’t stand the thought of Mark being gone. The world out there was tough to live in as it is but a world without your idiotic best friend with superpowers? You can’t even imagine it.

“What if I want to be more than that?” he asks, his voice dropping lower than his usual volume,

“Well, you can’t be more than that if you’re dead!” you hiss back at him. “And that’s something I don’t want to see!”

He flinches at your tone.

“No, wait— ugh, that’s not what I meant,” he lifts a hand to run through his hair. “What if I want to be more than just your friendly neighborhood Spiderman?”

“Mark, I really don’t get what you’re saying.” You look down at him, confusion buzzing through your features. “And that’s saying a lot.”

“What if I wanted to be more than just Spiderman to you? Because— I don’t know, that’s all I’ve wanted for a while now? Besides, like doing this whole Avengers-slash-saving the world thing?”

You blink at him, trying to process his words as Mark rambles on, his bare back still pressed against your thighs.

“Do you even get what I’m saying? I don’t think I’m making any sense. Shit, how do people do this?” Mark continues as you try to make sense of his ongoing rant.

“Do what?”

“Confess to the person they like? Is there, like, a step-by-step guide or something because I don’t think I’m doing this right,” he replies fairly quickly before he realizes what came spilling out of his mouth. Mark’s face turns as red as his suit and his eyes are as wide as his mask’s lenses; you’re sure your face is mirroring a similar look.

You swallow and clear your throat, trying to organize the many revelations running through your scattered brain. “So, let me get this straight.”

“Yeah, uh, sure,” Mark almost squeaks in disbelief.

“You almost died in my arms just now and you’re worried about the proper way to confess to me?” You laugh in disbelief. What a typical Mark thing of him to do.

“Well, uh, yeah, ‘cause dude, I’m pretty sure you know this but I haven’t done this sort of thing before.” He’s avoiding eye contact, clearly embarrassed by the situation. His hands are playing with the ends of his suit, a tell-tale of his nervousness.

You grab his hands, pulling them away from ruining the fabric, and squeeze them gently. “You’re such a nerd,” you tease fondly.

“Hey!” he yells back at the insult.

“But it’s a good thing that I, um, like nerds,” you manage to cough out, a heat seeping through your cheeks. Your confession is barely above a whisper but Mark’s enhanced senses help him pick up your words perfectly. His body freezes for a second before his head snaps up.

Mark’s brown irises lock onto yours, hope swimming through them. “You—you do?”

“Yeah,” you let out a breathy laugh. Your hand runs up the side of his neck to comb through his hair. You feel him shiver at your touch and you shyly smile at him. You’re nervous but you shouldn’t be—Mark’s your best friend.

“There’s this one nerd running around the city in a red and black suit. Ever heard of him?”

He’s laughing at this point and all your worries disappear. “Yeah, I think I have. He’s pretty cool.”

“I think he’s pretty cute, too” you confess, dipping your head down to move a bit closer to him. Mark meets you halfway, his hand wiggling its way to clasp the back of your neck. Your heart is beating so hard against your chest and the butterfly wings are tickling your stomach at the proximity.

You touch your forehead to his, nuzzling them together and he lets out a deep chuckle that sets your heart ablaze. “I guess you could say I got caught in his web,” you tease. You hear him suck on his teeth.

“Just kiss me already.”

“Only if you promise that you’ll listen to me and be more careful out there,” you reply, boldly pressing a kiss by his mouth. He chases your lips and you quickly pull away.

“Ah, promise me.”

“Promise, yes, I promise,” he groans. “Just let me kiss you.”

The word “okay” barely leaves your mouth before he pulls himself up to press his body against yours. Mark slots his lips against yours and you sigh into him, breathing in his scent. It starts off as innocent but the kiss takes a turn when Mark breaks away to slide off your lap. He keeps his hand behind your head and lowers you down to lie completely straight on your bed.

Mark climbs on top, knees on either side of your hips as he captures your lips again. Your fingers fly to his hair and he lets out a noise as your nails scratch his scalp. “Love you,” he whispers into the kiss.

“Love you, too,” you smile as you tug him even closer.

Yeah, you love being Spiderman’s person in the chair but you think you love being Mark Lee’s person a hell of a whole lot more.

#neowritingsnet #mark lee #nct mark #mark scenarios #mark imagines #mark fanfic #mark fluff #mark lee x reader #spiderman!mark #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct x reader #fuck i am so whipped for mark lee

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everlarkficexchange · 4 years ago

Text

Just Close Your Eyes, You'll Be Alright

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 154: Soulmate au where your soulmates injuries and scars show up on your body tinted in their favorite color. Katniss through the years as she discovers new marks, pondering what it could possibly be, finally figuring out that her soulmate is being hurt way too regularly and in very specific places. Do her parents figure out Peeta is being abused? How do they find and “rescue” him? Or does Peeta live his whole childhood being abused before turning 18? Does he runaway? How do he and Katniss find their way to one another? [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone / @peetamewllark]

Teen and up

AU- Modern setting (but like without cell phones). One Shot.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Language, child abuse and neglect, injuries, implied (non-descriptive) underage smut. Nobody dies! Unbetaed.

-lyrics of Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift, Feat. The Civil Wars - Songs from District 12 and Beyond (2012)

Author’s note: Thank you to @lovely-tothe-bone for her inspiring prompt and to the organizers of EFE, for bringing the challenge back so faithfully, you ladies rock!

KPKPKPKP

“Look at her!” Papa screeched at the policeman, lifting the back of my favorite pink polka dotted shirt. “You have to do something about this, Sheriff Cray!” Papa demanded, angrily.

The man just watched, like he didn’t care. Then sat back down lazily, “There’s nothing much I can do, to be honest. Unless you can produce the child sporting the actual bruises, my hands are tied.” Said the policeman.

I had no idea what the problem was, I felt fine, but ever since my 5th birthday, every time Mama helped me out of my day clothes for my bath, she wept and held me close to her chest, whispering “No child deserves to be treated so poorly,”

Papa too always made a face and looked sad and angry when Mama showed him my back after my baths.

It was funny how bath time could easily be my favorite time of day, but it made the grown ups upset somehow. I just liked that mama would rub ointments on my back, bottom and thighs, carefully and without fuzzing about the time she was spending away from my baby sister, Primrose. Is not that I didn’t like Prim— I thought she was as lovely as a doll— I didn’t mind sharing mama’s snuggles with her either, but it was nice to just feel mama’s warm hands caressing me to sleep every now and then.

Either way, I wished someone would tell me what was so wrong with my behind that had the grown ups acting so weird.

They were starting to scare me, really.

“There has to be something we can do! There are genetic tests to determine matchless people, couldn’t we use the same technology to find the markers matching my daughter’s counterpart to identify him?”

“Mr. Everdeen, I’m not a geneticist. I wouldn’t know about anything like it… and who’s to say we could use it to find your girl’s soulmate? Then we what? It’ll open an unknown Pandora’s box situation, people would start tracking soulmates illegally or something less than honorable. It’ll certainly set a precedent we cannot foresee the ramifications of!”

“You’re telling me that there’s some kid out there, somewhere, getting beaten week in and week out, and you’ll do nothing about it?! You’ll allow the abuse to continue uninterrupted?”

The man nodded slowly, “You said it yourself, Mr. Everdeen. The kid’s ‘out there, somewhere’, we don’t even know if he’s local, or his age. In any case, I only have jurisdiction over District 12, and I can’t very well launch a country wide investigation on an alleged case of abuse, specially if we have no victim,”

“But my daughter’s soulmate is suffering! Who knows what permanent damage this poor child may have as an adult! It’s my daughter’s future we’re talking about!”

“Most unfortunate, sir. I don’t wanna seem unsympathetic, Mr. Everdeen, but unless your little girl can figure out a way to communicate with her soulmate, find… an address— at the very least a name— there isn’t anything we can do to help.”

Papa huffed, his nose flared, “Fine. Thank you for your consideration…Sheriff.” Papa put his big ol’ hand on my shoulder and guided me away, “Come on Katniss, it’s time to go home.”

I looked up at Papa and reached for his hand. I smiled at him, “It’s okay, Papa. Mama says to give grumpy people time, and they may be nicer the next time we talk to them.”

Papa smiled at me, but it didn’t crinkled the corner of his eyes, like real smiles did, “That’s nice sweetie… although, that usually only applies to people just waking up from naps, like you and me,”

I giggled when he picked me up and tickled my tummy.

Papa kept talking to grown ups about my back, but nothing was ever done about it.

———————-

I was 11 when our world pitched upside down.

Papa was one the foramen on shift at the town’s coal mine when the earth shifted and an entire tunnel collapsed.

Prim and I were in school when the sirens went off. There’s nothing worse than to hear the end of your world being advertised so loudly and without mercy.

I grabbed my sister’s hand and rushed to the mines; we found our mother there, clinging to the yellow tape cordoning off the site.

I should’ve known something wasn’t right when I was the one seeking Mama out, trying to comfort her, instead of the other way around. It was the first time the concept of a soulmate stopped being an abstract notion, and became a reality, because my mother stopped functioning altogether the moment she realized Papa had been hurt.

I saw how much a soulmate could affect you. It wasn’t only the marks on the skin— those came without conscious pain— it was the fear of knowing that someone you loved was hurting, sometimes badly, and not being able to do anything about it.

Mama’s left leg started glowing pink from the shin down at first, and the color began to shift to a darker red the longer Papa laid underground.

Unbeknownst to us, my father had been pinned under fallen rock and dirt after pushing a man to safety, risking his own life. The sharp end of a pickax perforated Papa’s leg in the cave-in. The pickaxe worked as a plug, keeping him from bleeding out while he waited for the rescue crew to reach him.

Papa laid on the floor of the very last lift to surface with rescued miners. He was unconscious. Had suffered extensive blood loss. The lone medic in the rescue crew couldn’t fix him up right away, but Mama was a nurse, and like a switch flipping on, she ripped off the bottom of her skirt, and tied a tourniquet around my father’s thigh, saving his life at the cost of his limb.

My father lived, but his leg had to be amputated.

He couldn’t work in the mines anymore, and what little money we got as compensation from his injuries, were put into paying off the mortgage, because Papa decided that having a roof over his family’s heads was far more important than having a leg.

The rub was, a roof didn’t fill our stomachs or put a coat around Prim’s shivering shoulders. Mama put a hold on her nursing career, obsessing over Papa’s care, despite his protests. Someone had to pick up the pieces, and that someone turned to be me.

I started selling everything I could carry out of the house in my arms: tools, kitchen appliances, small furniture, etc. But we never had many possessions to begin with, so my wares ran out soon, and I turned to our closets for their meager treasures.

I sold my parents best clothes, along with my sister’s winter boots that didn’t fit her anymore. I looked at my own shoes with longing, but put them into Primrose’s shoe rack, deciding I could manage with Mama’s boots, if I stuffed them with newspaper. Mama never left the house anyway. Neither did Papa for that matter, but he wasn’t dead, just convalescencing, so I left him a pair of footwear just in case, and sold his work boots and his Sunday loafers.

The day I was down to the last pair of clothing, we had been slurping on mint tea for the third day in a row from a few old leaves I found in the very back of the pantry. It was the last of our food, besides Papa’s bland diet, but I refused to let on on how precariously stocked we were, until absolutely necessary.

But, nobody wanted the hand-me-down baby clothes I had for sale, nor the slightly beaten stroller I was pushing around with my ‘merchandise’.

Icy cold rain, soaked me to the bone. I was so tired and downtrodden, I ran to the first awning I found, unwilling to go back home to Prim’s sunken blue eyes and chapped lips, asking for something to eat, while my hands were empty.

I tripped and fell face first on the umbrella stroller, breaking it irreparably and soiling the few onesies I’d been trying to sell.

With my wares ruined, and winded by a sharp pain shooting through my elbow, I limped towards a scraggly apple tree a few feet away. I recognized the place as the alley behind the town’s bakery, just by the smell alone.

I cupped my elbow, wondering if I’d broken it or merely banged it up? That’s when I saw the dumpster.

Big ugly thing, dirty and smelly. I climbed a wooden crate to dig for anything edible inside, but before I could lift the lid, a screeching voice shouted at me.

“Get out of there, Seam brat!”

I jumped off the crate, startled, and cowed behind the dumpster when I saw the baker’s grumpy wife sneering at me from the warmth of her kitchen’s back door.

A boy about my age— I recognized him as one of my classmates from school— peeked his towheaded face around the woman, and although they were a good five yards away, I could see his blue eyes widened as he took me in. The boy slipped back inside, as his mother spewed threats of calling the police on me and whatnot.

I started debating whether I wanted to trace back and drag my broken stroller over; pretend I was merely trying to dump it in the garbage, while inspecting the trash for food… but the baker’s wife was nicknamed the Witch by all the neighborhood children for a reason.

Before my mind was made, a loud, metallic bang resonated into the street from inside the bakery. Yelling ensued, then the sound of a meaty hand against a small face.

A few seconds later, the witch was chasing the boy out the back door, “Toss it in the trash, you stupid creature! Nobody will pay money for burnt bread anyway!”

The boy scurried by with his head down.

My eyes stuck on the bread in his hands, was probably the reason I missed the shiner under his eye. He stopped right in front of the dumpster, but instead of throwing the ruined loaves in, he tossed them in my direction.

I didn’t wait around to ask if he meant for me to grab them. I just scooped them up and fled like a bat out of heck.

When I got home, Mama gasped in horror. She grabbed me by the shoulders and pressed me to her chest. “Oh no! It’s getting worse. They don’t even care to hide the bruises anymore!”

Mama lathered my face with all the medicinal herbs she had at hand, while apologizing profusely for abandoning me and Prim to our own devices. She vowed to find a job, and to take better care of us.

“No child should ever suffer like this!” I couldn’t tell if she meant Prim and I, or whoever my soulmate was.

Mama interrogated me about my whereabouts and how I came upon the bread in my arms, but she seemed to rest easier after a while.

When I was finally able to look at my face in the mirror, I was horror struck by the deep orange bruise swelling under my eye. It took three days for the bruise to go away completely even with mama’s careful fingers.

Coincidentally, the baker’s son didn’t show up to school for the next four days. By the time he did, I had lost any confidence in myself to go up to him and thank him for the bread that fed us for a few days; the loaves were perfect! Only the crust had been charred, but I had a hunch the boy knew that when he threw the bread to me; I was also convinced he burned the bread on purpose, I was just too chicken to ask him why? Which made it even harder to hold his gaze when we crossed each other in the school hallways.

All I knew was that because of the selfless actions of the boy in my year at school, my mother seemed to wake from her single minded obsession. The boy with the bread gave our family a sense of hope, despite the fact that it would take some time for Mama to find work and produce enough money for the family. Papa’s medical needs had to be met as well, and he was due a new leg.

While those thoughts churned in my head, my eyes focused on a bright yellow bloom across the school yard. The first dandelion of the season! I picked the cheerful blossom, and the idea on how to feed my family until Mama was back on her feet, came to me.

After school, I took Prim’s hand and a clean bucket in the other; together we scoured the yard and the woods nearby for all the dandelions we could fit in the bucket. That night, we gorged ourselves on dandelion salad, and the next day, I pulled from under my parent’s bed, the only thing of value we had left in the house, Papa’s hunting bow.

“Are you sure you can handle it, pumpkin?” My father asked, watching me carefully.

“You taught me how to do it,” I said, trying to hide my nerves.

“I taught you with a smaller bow,” he pointed out, “why don’t use yours?”

I shouldered the heavy bow, and took a few loose arrows in my hand, “I sold it. These are all we have left now,”

After a handful of days practicing, I actually shot something worth eating. Seeing my mother’s blue eyes pop in surprise when I dropped the dead rabbit on the table, was priceless.

——————-

One early morning, right before summer break, I happened across another hunter… a trapper, to be precise.

A lanky, scowling boy, with three fat bunnies tied to his belt, and a fourth hanging in the air by a simple— yet elegant— wire snare.

I’d seen his traps before, his prey with their dead eyes and lolling tongues, just high enough off the ground to keep other animals from taking off with them. Papa told me that hunter etiquette was to be observed; if I happened across a trap that wasn’t mine, I was not to touch it, out of respect for my fellow hunters. That still didn’t discourage me from looking! After all, the snares looked like works of art, and I had no idea how to set any on my own.

“Stealing is a punishable offense, you know,” Snapped the boy, and suddenly I realized just how tall he was.

From up close, I could see the beginning of some stubble under his chin.

“I wasn’t gonna take it…” I stepped away from the twitching bunny, with my hands raised in surrender. “Admiring your work, that’s all. By the way, I’m Katniss Everdeen, what’s your name?” I asked, trying to be friendly.

“Name’s Gale. Hawthorne. So… you know how to use the thing hanging from your back, Catnip, or is that just for show?” He practically bumped me onto my butt, stepping passed me while pulling a knife from his belt to cut his kill down. He turned to watch me, smirking. “That thing looks bigger than you, are you sure you can lift it up?”

I scowled at him, wondering if he was expecting to see me squirm or something. I was smaller than the average 12 year old, but I was fast and scrappy.

“My name is KatNISS. I can shoot my own food thank you very much,” I held my bow aloft and moved so he could see my quiver full of arrows, “my weapons aren’t props or fakes,” I said, haughtily.

“Yeah, well, it still looks bigger than you,”

I rolled my eyes, fed up. Any other time I’d meekly shy away, and let him be; but I was feeling stubborn and confrontational, so I pulled my bow, nocked an arrow and let it fly, all in a fluid motion.

Gale gaped with a hint of fear in his gray eyes.

I felt smug and satisfied.

I wasn’t aiming at anything in particular, I just wanted the obnoxious boy to shut it, but by a stroke of luck my arrow pierced a falling leaf, and imbedded itself deep into the knot of a gnarly looking tree trunk.

“Wow! That was amazing, Catnip!” Gale said in awe.

“It’s Katniss… I’m okay, my father was better,” I said, puffing my chest a little, “I haven’t managed stealth yet, not like Papa before the accident, anyway. He doesn’t hunt anymore.”

Gale frowned. “Was your dad in the cave-in?” He asked grimly.

I nodded.

“So was mine. He almost didn’t make it.”

“Same.”

He just stood there, staring at the ground for a moment, then I tried to play cool, “Hey, I’d be willing to spare some shooting lessons, in exchange for some snaring techniques,”

Gale watched me, intently. He finally nodded and stuck his hand out for me to shake, “Deal!”

I smiled. Papa always said that good hunting partners were hard to find, and while I didn’t want a new hunting partner— I already had my father!— I could always exchange knowledge with a fellow hunter and improve my game.

——————-

Papa was fitted with a basic prosthetic leg. He couldn’t run or swim with it, but having the ability to walk without crutches gave him a “new lease in life”, as he called it.

He found work doing odd jobs for Haymitch Abernathy, a hermit drunk, with more money than he knew what to do with, and no family to spend it on. The man needed someone to talk to every now and then, and seeing as he and my father were close in age, they developed a strange rapport between them.

Still, Papa wasn’t completely confident with his fake leg, no matter how many physical therapies he attended; he still walked with a pronounced limp. Yet, he always had a word of comfort for Mama.

My mother often blamed herself for Papa’s disability.

He’d tell her that she did the right thing, that it was thanks to her torniquete he was still alive, and she should never doubt her own healing skills. But every now and then, my mother would catch a glance of her permanently grey skinned leg, and silent tears would slide down her exhausted, pretty face.

By then, I was old enough to know that the soft orange marks hidden under my clothes, meant a kid somewhere in Panem, probably my age, was getting beaten on a regular basis. It was sad to think about, but I’d grown so used to the marks, they felt like a distant happening without a meaningful connection to me. The bruises were there… just shy of a shirt sleeve, or around mid thigh, where they could be concealed by shorts; the way I saw them, they were like oversized freckles that came and went. A nuisance. That’s why watching my mother weep over her shadowy leg, was always unnerving and a little odd.

Was I supposed to despair the same way she did over my own soulmate marks? Was I broken or heartless if I didn’t feel as strongly?

Until I saw my mother’s grief over her soulmate’s leg, it didn’t register to me just how much the orange bruises were supposed to affect me.

I started to think if I wasn’t any better than the person dispensing the punches.

One day, I was leaning on my parents bedroom door, watching Mama applying soothing oils to her gray leg with the utmost love and care.

“Why do you rub so much medicine on your leg? It doesn’t seem to be bringing back your normal color,” I asked, staring where her fingers massaged into her flesh.

Mama stopped and called me over, to stand on her side of the bed.

“Papa is fast asleep, do you see?” She pointed out, kindly.

I looked past her shoulder, where my father was sprawled on the mattress on his stomach, dead to the world.

I nodded.

Mama smiled, “Do you remember all we’ve told you about soulmates? I’m sure they’ve taught you at school other stuff as well,”

Again, I nodded, just a little puzzled. “Soulmates have a very strong bond. They can’t feel when the other hurts, but they can see the marks, tinted in their favorite colors. That’s how we identify our soulmates, because we match and they can see themselves reflected back.”

“Exactly.” Said my mother, beaming. “Now, your papa and I are soulmates, and we love each other very much. When Papa’s leg was separated from his body, my body reflected that loss, despite still retaining my own leg. We match. The one thing most people don’t seem to realize, is that the connection goes both ways. I may not feel the physical pain Papa does, but I can still do things to my leg to help him feel better.

“For example, when he feels phantom itches, I scratch and his itching sensation goes away. When he can’t fall asleep because he’s uncomfortable without his leg, I massage lavender oil on mine, until he relaxes and goes to sleep. Everything I do to heal my body, and take care of it, helps my soulmate feel better.”

“Is that why you put lotions on my marks? To help my soulmate feel better?”

Mama’s lips thinned out; she didn’t like talking about the orange marks on my body.

“Katniss,” she said very seriously, “I tend to your bruises because I love you. I worry about your soulmate, because I love you. I try to keep you as healthy and happy as possible, because that will help your soulmate heal faster… because I love you. I can cure your soulmate’s body through yours, but I cannot protect his heart, mind, or feelings. Right now, you both are too young to feel the pull of your bond, but one day, when your bodies have matured, you’ll have this… yearning, to find one another, and then, I just hope, whoever your soulmate is, knows we tried to help.”

I cocked my head, “Should I be sad every time new marks show up?”

Mama inhaled a deep breath, “We should feel sad every time a child is mistreated, darling, no matter how we’re related,”

From that day on, I paid close attention to every child in my class for bruises matching mine. I also kept pomades and tinctures in my school bag, in case I ever saw another kid getting hurt. I wouldn’t say I started to develop deeper feelings for my soulmate after that, but I did feel deeper empathy for my classmates… I just couldn’t stomach big injuries, gore or vomit, but smaller cuts and bruises… those I could manage.

————————

“Silver Anderson figured out her cousin was dating her soulmate!” A girl in my year was telling a cluster of other 15 year-old girls in the locker room. “Do you remember how Silver has been wearing a turtleneck for the last two days with this darned awful heat?”

The other girls hummed their yeses.

“Well, is because Silver’s soulmate had a hickey on the throat, given by Silver’s cousin, who was his girlfriend or whatever. But apparently the cousin went over to visit Silver with her boyfriend, and one look at the guy’s neck, and Silver recognized the mark!”

There were gasps all around.

It wasn’t rare to hear of soulmates having relationships with other people before finding each other, but it was almost unheard of a relative dating somebody’s soulmate so close.

I finished tying up my shoelaces, and started rebranding my hair, making a mental note to double shampoo, to get all the sweat out.

“What an idiot! Who gets hickeys from their ‘whiles’?” Snorted somebody.

I wasn’t much for gossip, but even I had to agree.

‘Whiles’, weren’t permanent romantic interests, they were just to pass the time while waiting to find your soulmate. ‘Whiles’ were people to satisfy ones curiosity about dating and that kind of stuff, with no strings attached or substance; ‘whiles’ had a bad connotation associated with.

“Oh, the boy had never gotten one mark in his body that wasn’t his, so, he assumed he didn’t have a soulmate, and the cousin has already been confirmed to be a matchless.”

A big “Oh!” Swept the room.

Matchless were born without a soulmate, which meant they could choose to be with whoever they wanted as long as they were matchless as well, or with nobody at all.

Sometimes I envied their freedom to choose, but other times I felt a sense of safety, knowing there was a person somewhere in the world meant just for me and me to them.

Soulmates were genetically evolved to complement one another, but some just wanted to experiment before settling down. Lately, though, matchless births were growing in number, and that upset people for whatever reason, as if the freedom of choice was scary or a curse, then again matchless were usually whiles and those were looked down on.

“That’s awful!” Said a girl.

“I knew Silver’s near freakish obsession with keeping her skin pristine and hidden would bring her issues finding her soulmate someday,” Declared another.

“I don’t think she wanted to find him,” whispered someone else.

“Oh well, they did find each other! You can’t hide from your destiny. That’s just silly!”

“Either way, I feel bad for the cousin, because apparently she and Silver’s soulmate were talking about marriage, since they thought they were both matchless.” Informed the first one.

I lost interest in the conversation when it turned speculative, and stood up to shove my P.E. uniform into my locker.

Someone suddenly called, “Everdeen, how about those orange blooms on your arms?”

My eyes widened, and immediately, I dropped my arms, pulling my sleeves as far down as they would go to cover my soulmate’s private marks.

“Oh… um… yeah. My mother thinks my soulmate might be an athlete,” I stuttered; Mama had only said such a thing in passing once, when a couple bruises appeared that didn’t match the usual ones. “Also, he seems to work with his hands. Lots of nicks and scrapes.” I wiggled my fingers in front of me. That much was true, my soulmate probably wore those marks freely.

“Oooh!” A girl, Delly Cartwright, reached to take a closer look. “Could be a carpenter. Or a locksmith? Maybe a farmer!”

“It could be the blacksmith’s son! Doesn’t Silver have an unmarried brother?” Asked another girl.

“Yeah… a kid like 10! Ugh, Everdeen, I really hope he’s not your soulmate… can you imagine being so much older than your soulmate?!” Interjected the same girl that spotted my bruises.

I scowled. Age was a stupid thing to complain about. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to have an age gap between soulmates… my father was six years older than my mother, and Mrs. Sae from the Soup Corner at the market, was a handful of years older than her soulmate.

Still…

“No. My soulmate is most likely my age. I’ve gotten his marks my whole life,” I shrugged, absently rubbing my arm, where the brand new bruise appeared that morning.

“Oh… at least that’s something. Knowing that your soulmate isn’t so much younger than you, and that he might at least have an apprenticeship somewhere,”

“Right,” I said, turning away, wondering if it was awful of me to wish for a boy who never got marks on his body, like Silver’s pristine skin? At least that would mean my soulmate was safe and treated fairly.

———————-

Papa and I shared many qualities. I inherited his coloring: olive skin, gray eyes, dark, straight hair, our penchant for singing mountain ballads, and the same quickening of the blood when we got a kill during hunting. Prim favored our mother more closely, with their fair skin, blonde wavy licks and blue eyes, they also were more skilled as healers and more soft-hearted towards animals.

The day Prim brought home a half dead cat, riddled with fleas and missing an ear to be patched up and adopted into our family, my first instinct was to drown the orange pelt and be done with it, but Prim got upset and worked up, and I just couldn’t stomach her cries over what I considered to be the world’s ugliest cat… his face was flat, like it’d been smashed against a wall…

It took a long time to calm my sister down, and Papa made me pinky promise that I wouldn’t kill the fur sack and pretend it ran away, which I only did reluctantly, because I loved my sister and didn’t want her to be crossed with me.

Papa asked me to walk with him into the woods, afterwards, which I did readily.

Before he lost his leg, we used to go hunting all the time; everything I knew about hunting and foraging, I learned from him. But after losing his leg, we’ve only gone to the woods to hike and get him used to his prosthesis in the uneven terrain.

It was good exercise for him. The fresh air seemed to lift his spirits too.

We didn’t hunt together anymore. Papa’s tread wasn’t feather-like the way it used to be, prey scattered away before we even saw it.

It was alright. We enjoyed being out there together, and he still had lots to teach me about edible plants. Sometimes he’d find one of his old spiles, and then it would hit me: all his knowledge would’ve been lost if he’d died in that cave-in. I would’ve never known where to look for those spiles; I wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to harvest sap and turn it into syrup.

Sometimes, I had to sit down and catch my breath when those thoughts knocked the wind out of me.

I was having one such moment, when out of the blue, my father spoke in a low, calmed tone.

“There’s a new chief of police,” he said while sitting on a log, next to me.

“I heard.” I wasn’t trying to be snippy with him, but every time a new chief or sheriff was appointed to our district, Papa wanted to run back into the precinct, and demand they look for my soulmate.

Appealing to the police never led anywhere. It didn’t matter if they had new staff, they always gave us the same spiel: can’t investigate an abuse case without a victim. They couldn’t go looking for a person without a name or an address.

After a while, one just started feeling like it was an impossible task, to help one child feel safe.

Papa sighed. “We could try ourselves. I’ve been saving some money, and we could—“

“What? We could what?” I snapped. “We could go door to door visiting every little town in Panem until we find the bruised up mutt matching me?” I was at the verge of tears.

Mama said that once my body was matured enough, I’d start feeling the pull. Well, I kinda felt it, calling desperately. It started around my 14th birthday, when I started having a regular cycle, and puberty was at its summit.

First, I was curious about my other half and began cataloguing all the soulmate marks I could see easily. Suddenly I had whole maps of my hands and arms, and legs. Mama suggested I keep track of my hidden marks too, just in case. The curiosity persisted and evolved into an incessant wondering: where was he? How was he getting along? How could I help him protect himself?

“Haymitch may have a way, sweetheart. He knows people, and he likes you… he says you’ve got spunk,” Papa smirked.

I’d met Haymitch Abernathy countless times. He was rude and sarcastic. I usually responded to him in kind, earning myself a host of reprimands from my parents— although Papa still couldn’t hide his pride, despite trying his hardest.

“What would he know about soulmates anyway?” I muttered.

Papa shook his head, standing up, “Haymitch lost his girl, mother and brother all at once during a special outing. There was a car crash. Haymitch was badly hurt, but survived. His family didn’t. His soulmate was 16, so was him. The government paid him excessively for damages and the loss of his soulmate, because it was proved the city had skimped on roadside safety that caused the accident. But money didn’t fill the void of losing his loved ones. Haymitch never recovered.

“He told me once that losing a soulmate is akin to drowning. Except you’re still breathing without filling your lungs with oxygen…” Papa picked up the bucket we brought to collect sap, and smiled sadly at me. “Katniss, I may be exaggerating by hounding the police about your soulmate, but sometimes I worry that if we don’t find that kid soon, you could very well share Haymitch’s fate. Believe me when I say that I’d do anything in this world, to keep that from happening to you.”

I turned 16 that spring.

I started carrying a small mirror on me, to try and look over my shoulders into places I couldn’t reach, obsessing over every little mark that sprouted anew on my back.

I wasn’t sure if the all consuming watching, and the doubts that kept me up at night, not knowing what was being done to my soulmate, wondering if he’d survive another day, was the pull Mama talked about, or simply terror at becoming the next Haymitch Abernathy. Either way, I became more vigilant for injured teens around me, but a sinking feeling in my gut started nagging at me, that my soulmate was an expert at hiding in plain sight by now… how would I ever find him if he was as adept at camouflaging as I suspected?

—————————

“This spot is perfectly in the middle of the turkeys’ path.”

I crossed my arms over my chest to glare at Gale, “You just spilled a bunch of blood there. No critter is gonna come this way anymore with that stink.”

“Turkeys aren’t that smart, Catnip,” Gale looked up from his belt after securing his new catch— his pants were covered in gore from where the rabbit nearly cut its own foot off trying to fight the snare’s grip. “I’m more than confident that if we set traps here, we’ll catch at least a fat Tom…more if we set up a system wide enough,”

After a somewhat rocky start, Gale and I learned to respect each other’s skills, even joining forces for certain seasons, like deer and turkey hunting. We also fished together on occasion. It was safe to say we had a friendship after three… almost four years of partnership in the woods. At 18 Gale was less obnoxious, but still a stubborn ass.

“And I’m telling you, the path is tainted now. We need to put feed on the other side of the bushes, to keep them in the area.”

“That’ll take weeks!”

“Then you shouldn’t have let that bunny bleed to death in here!”

“Listen here, Catnip—” whatever he was about to say, died in his throat.

“What?!” I demanded, angrily, when he just stared at me horror struck.

“Your nose!” He roared. “Your eyes!” He tumbled forward, and squished my cheeks in his one, long-fingered hand. “There’s more coming!”

I yanked myself away from him. “Cut it out!”

“I think your soulmate is getting the shit beaten out of!”

I grunted and brought my fingers to my face, as if I could feel the changes.

Gale had seen some of my bruises, enough to be sure I had a soulmate, but not enough to realize my soulmate was being abused.

I rubbed under my nose, and the tip of my index came back bloody.

I gasped. That had never happened before.

“How bad is it?” I asked Gale, frantically.

“Um… orange keeps popping up all over your face. There’s some running up your arm right now.” He sounded careful, but frightened. “It’s like… burn marks,”

I looked down, where indeed, long, fat tongues of intense orange glowed up my left arm. I’ve seen glowing marks before, but always in the tip of my fingers or the sides of my hands, I never connected the glowing with fire— burn marks— but it made sense. I guess my soulmate must handle fire regularly.

“What’s happening?” I pulled my little mirror from my pocket, to see my face, and nearly sobbed at the sight.

One eye was completely covered in orange. Burn marks ran all the way from my elbow up to my cheek, and part of my forehead. My nose had a tiny, bloody smear, and my lip had streaks of orange here and there.

Whatever happened, was bad.

“Fuck… Do you know where he is, by any chance?” Gale winced.

“No… but I’m about to find out!” I looked around for a place to sit, then pulled my small knife out of my boot.

Once seated, I examined my forearms. The flaming marks started at the elbow on my left arm, and went up on that side, my right arm was free of injury, except for my palms. Both were glowing orange, but not too bad.

“Okay… here goes nothing!” I gritted through my teeth, placing the tip of my knife to my arm, I traced the word, “WHERE?” crudely, and just deep enough to break the skin.

Gale made a face, but crouched closed by, staring intently. “Do you think it’ll work?” He asked dubiously. “He might be unconscious for all we know,”

“We’ll see.”

The minutes rolled by and no answer came. I was starting to panic; all I could think about was would that be the day I became the next Haymitch Abernathy? At least he got to meet his soulmate and have a relationship with her before she died; I had no idea who mine was. Was it worse that way, knowing them and then losing them, or was it worst to never meet them at all? Would I become soulless? Would my entire body turn gray? Would I ever find another soulmate? Haymitch never said if he ever looked for another, but I knew it was possible to get a secondary soulmate if enough time went by.

“Look!” Gale shouted.

A shaky “D12” appeared under my message.

A relieved gasp left my mouth.

“District 12! That’s good! He could’ve been all the way in District 4, and then what were you gonna do? Call the authorities there?” Gale muttered, clearly invested in what was happening to me.

Tears stung my eyes. I wrote: “ME 2”

We’ve been in the same district the whole time, and I still had no idea where to find him!

I turned the knife back to the first word, and traced a line under it “WHERE?”

The answer came back faster. “S H”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I moaned, “What kind of abbreviation is that? Ugh! I’m trying to help you!” I screamed at my arm as if my soulmate could hear it.

“Seam House?” Gale mused… “No, there are hundreds, if not thousands of houses in the Seam,” he said.

The Seam was the poorer part of the district, where people like us lived: low income families, miners, laborers and the such.

“Ah! Ask if he means Slag Heap? If I was trying to pick a fight with someone, that’s where I’d go.”

“He didn’t pick a fight!” I snapped, defensive and angry. “He’s been beaten every other day, since I can remember. My parents used to go to the police station every year to see if they could do something about it. Nobody ever did! They always said we needed to figure out a way to communicate with him… well, I’m doing it now!”

Gale frowned, “That’s shitty. I’m sorry to hear that. The Slag Heap could still be it, though. Many people go there to be alone… if they’re running from someone, there’s plenty hiding spots,”

That sounded logical, “Okay… but the slag heap isn’t exactly small, and there’s some woodsy area to consider too,”

“Mmm… asking has been working so far,”

“Yeah, but the whole mutilation part is getting to me…” I glared, he wasn’t the one cutting his arm, “I’m starting to get woozy,”

“You’re a hunter, Catnip! Blood is nothing,”

“Animals, Gale! Not my own blood,”

“There’s no difference,” Gale cupped my face in his hands, to keep my eyes on his gray, steely ones. “we’re all animals. We all bleed the same. Your soulmate needs your help, if I knew who mine was, and I knew she was in trouble, I’d be rushing to them… you can do this, Catnip,”

I took a deep, cleansing breath, and nodded. “I’ll ask him. As soon as we know where to go… could you please fetch my father? He’ll know what to do,”

“You got it, Catnip!” He let go of me, and I felt renewed courage after his weird pep talk.

Once again, I trace the tip of my knife on my skin, “SLAG H? WHERE?”

“YES NE”

“North East! I told you it’ll work!”

“Yeah,” I grumbled, spelling making one last message: “W8 4 ME”

“K”

With half a plan in motion, Gale rushed to find my father, and I made a mad dash to the slag heap, where years and years of dumping dirt and rocks removed from the mines had formed small hills and mounds at the edge of the district.

“Hello!” I called out loudly. “Can anybody hear me?!”

There wasn’t a whole lot of vegetation in the slag heap, only hundreds of disturbed soil pits and little mountains… some were tall and wide enough they’ll easily conceal a person or two looking for privacy.

“Anybody here?” I called again.

A weak cough answered in the distance.

I rushed in it’s direction, hoping it was my soulmate, and not a couple trying to steal away a few minutes alone.

“Please, tell me where you are!” I called before another round of coughing reached me.

“Here to finish me off, sweetheart?” Came a weak, raspy voice from behind me.

I turned around but saw nothing besides dirt, and sticks, and moss on rocks.

I swallowed, “Where are you?” I stepped closer to the heap in front of me, and then…

“Well, don’t step on me!”

I jumped back and looked downwards, and finally saw dirty pieces of flannel and denim, incongruous with the area, and under all the debris, I realized a person had dug a little wedge at the foot of the hill, and thrown the stuff he’d dug out back on top of himself. The disguise was clever, camouflaging himself into the terrain.

I gasped and dropped to the ground, pulling handfuls of earth out of the way. A jolt of recognition hit me when a pair of bright blue eyes blinked open and shut, slowly, as if fighting off fatigue.

“Don’t go to sleep!” I warned.

“I’m sorry, but it might be too late for that already. There’s an angel hovering above me, and I’m not sure I’m not dreaming it,” a row of white teeth appeared from the soil.

My knee-jerk reaction was to chuff and roll my eyes, but if he was throwing me those cheesy lines, it meant he was somewhat lucid, and it was imperative to keep him that way.

“How do you know is not a nightmare?” I countered.

“Because Katniss Everdeen coming to my rescue, and being my soulmate could never be a bad dream. On the contrary It’s only my deepest, most desperate hope, really…” he trailed off, and closed his eyes again.

I was momentarily frightened.

“Keep talking,” I ordered, brushing dirt off his head. Some of it mixed in with his blood and sweat, turning into a thick mud. I could see more of his battered face; my heart beat erratically against my rib cage, there were so many bruises. “Peeta, keep talking,”

His untouched eye opened slowly, a lazy, sideways smile greeted me, warming me up. “You know my name?”

I chuckled, startled, “You know mine,”

“Everyone knows you, Katniss ‘the huntress’ Everdeen!” He reached up, tentatively, and touched the tip of my braid, whispering under his breath, something that sounded like: unreal.

Just saying his name felt otherworldly; like breathing for the first time. I’ve never uttered it before, for fear of bringing forward memories of that awful day in the rain, by the bakery’s scraggly apple tree.

“And you’re Peeta Mellark, the boy with the bread. I’ve known your name for a long time, baker’s youngest son, whose kindness saved my entire family from starvation,” I cupped his injured face in my hands, and I couldn’t help the slight tremble in my voice.

He seemed to melt at the sound of my voice; then his hands came to touch my face. “I can’t believe it’s you. I can’t believe you found me!” He said, an edge of incredulity and awe colored his tone, but then his face fell, “But, your sweet, beautiful face… it’s all…” a fat tear rolled down his muddy cheek, while his thumb gently caressed my temple and the side of my face. “I’m so sorry, Katniss… I never wanted you to look like this! I always tried to shift positions, so you’d never had to see how bad it got. I’m so sorry,” he was crying so hard, he started to shake and cough.

It took inhuman strength not to cry myself; I knew he needed me to protect him, and there would be time later to fall apart and feel emotional.

“Shush, I’m here now.” I knelt next to him and locked my arms around his head, pulling him against my chest, so he could hear my heart beating only for him. “I’m going to take care of you.”

“I really hoped it was you. I really did…” he heaved into my neck, his arms wrapping gingerly around my waist, “thank you for finding me,”

“Of course I found you… I’ve been looking for you for ages,” I whispered, finally giving in, shedding some tears, relieved that the tension, fear, uncertainty, and frustration were finally gone. My soulmate was in my arms, where he belonged! “My parents started looking for you when we were little. But we’re together now,”

Peeta calmed down some, but he was still breathing too fast, “Now that you have me… what are you gonna do with me?” He asked meekly.

I smiled down at him, “I’ll put you somewhere safe, where you can never get hurt again,”

He closed his eyes. “I’d like that…”

“Peeta, you can’t go to sleep just yet, okay?”

“I’m so tired, Katniss,”

“I know,” I cooed. I had no idea I was capable of speaking with such softness. “My father will get here soon, and then we’ll patch you up real well.”

“I can’t go back to my house though—“

“You ain’t going there, kid!” Papa said from a few feet away. Gale and two police officers followed closely.

I must’ve been completely enthralled with my soulmate, because I never heard them coming,

“Even if it’s the last thing I do, I won’t let you go back to that place!” My father stated.

And that was that!

——————————-

“Tell me what happened,” Officer Darius asked in a soft tone, trying to be encouraging.

My soulmate inhaled; one eye was so swollen it was completely shut, his other one roved around the room nervously. Peeta locked his gaze with mine, beseeching, and I offered my hand in support. He clung to it like a lifeline.

“My mother asked me to burn a pile of leaves and branches in the backyard that had been there since fall, but the branches were damp and it was taking me a while to fire it up. Since it’s the last week to burn stuff, my mom got impatient. She screamed at me, called me incompetent and useless… the usual stuff—“

“Does your mother call you names regularly?” Asked the officer.

“My mom calls everybody names. I guess that’s how she was raised. Her mom used to call her names too…” Peeta shrugged.

“That’s no reason to keep the cycle going,” my mama grumbled quietly, so only I could hear her.”

“After insulting you, what else happened?” Prompted the police woman, Officer Purnia.

Peeta scowled. “I told her I’d pour some lighter fluid on the pile and let it soak for a few minutes, but she wouldn’t hear it. Said I was doing it wrong, I was too stupid, I would never accomplish shit if I couldn’t even light up some dead branches… and, well. I got fed up. I told her she could start the fire herself if I was doing such a lousy job… my mom… she—She doesn’t like to be talked back…” He sagged on his hospital bed, and turned his face away.

“What do you mean?” Asked officer Purnia, taking notes, trying to keep an impassive mask on.

“The first slap landed across my ear because I dared to move away from her flying hand,” Peeta said tersely, “She didn’t like that either, so she took aim again, but with the bottle of lighter fluid on her palm. She practically smashed it against my face.” He stopped to gasp for air, while his good eye filled with tears. “I think fluid squirted everywhere, I smelled like my hair and clothes had been doused in the stuff,” he raked a shaking hand over the singed hair at his temple.

I caressed his arm to sooth him.

He smiled gratefully at me, and faced the officers to continue. “I’d just put a piece of burning cardboard into the pile. I guess the leaves caught fire during the squabble with mom, and I must’ve lost my balance after taking a plastic bottle full of liquid to the face, because next thing I know, I’m bracing my hands on the ground, on burning sticks, and then I’m on fire myself.”

Peeta sustained first degree burns on the different spots from his left forearm, up. Luckily, his wounds were managed as soon as we got to the emergency room, and his treating doctor said he would recover, with minimal scarring.

“How did you end up at the Slag Heap?” Asked Officer Darius.

Peeta sighed, “My mom kind of freaked out when she realized I was on fire. She picked up a rag from somewhere and started hitting me with it…” he paused, “in retrospect, I think she may have actually been trying to help me, but… I just saw it like she was still trying to beat me, so I ran off. I tripped, fell, then rolled on the ground, she started calling my name, coming closer to me. I was scared. I took off again and didn’t stop until I fell at the foot of that mound of dirt in the slag heap. That’s when I noticed my soulmate’s note.”

Officer Darius quirked up a reddish eyebrow, “Your soulmate’s note?”

“Yeah… these,” Peeta tried to peel back the bandage over his arm, but my mother put her hand over it, and shook her head.

“Here!” I said, immediately shoving my own arm in front of the officers.

Both examined my arm. “How did you think of doing that, Miss Everdeen?”

“I was inspired by your bosses actually,” I snarled.

“Katniss!” Mama chided, and then politely addressed the officers. “You see, my husband and I have come to the authorities for many years, urging them to find a way to locate our daughter’s soulmate. You see, she’d started exhibiting her soulmate’s bruises from a very young age, which in my professional experience, were inconsistent with normal toddler scrapes and bumps—“

“The chief of police always said to find a way to communicate with him, ask where he was… so I did,” I interrupted, haughtily. “I got you a real life victim to investigate. You’re welcome.”

The officers stared at me, flabbergasted.

Mama made a dismaying noise in the back of her throat, but Peeta’s face— burnt, bruised and swollen— lighted up, with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen a person direct at me.

Mama interjected, conciliatory, “My husband and I believe, your department should have enough evidence to investigate Peeta’s case, now?” My mother’s searching blue eyes seemed to x-ray the officers.

“Well, Miss and Mrs. Everdeen, Mister Mellark, I think we have everything we need for now. Thank you for your cooperation. We’ll be in touch.” Said Officer Purnia snapping shut her notebook.

“Mr. Mellark, your case worker, Miss Trinket, will be in as soon as the matter of your emergency custody is settled.” Informed Officer Darius, right before wishing us a good evening.

Peeta frowned, “Are they sending me to like a home or something? What about my brothers? They can’t stay home with my mom… she’ll go nuts on them!”

“No, no, Peeta,” Mama spoke softly, “Miss Trinket is already on it. Haymitch Abernathy has offered his house for your brothers to stay at for a few days while things get sorted out. You’re welcome to join them, of course, but your injuries need supervision and several cleanings daily, so Mr. Everdeen and I feel it is in everyone’s best interest if you stay with us, at least until you’ve healed enough.” Mama hesitated, and then patted my soulmate’s hand, “I hope that’s okay with you, but if it isn’t—“

“It’s absolutely great, ma’am! Yes, I—thank you,”

Mama nodded, “Well, I’m gonna go get some stuff taken care of, and check on that case worker. Then they’ll hopefully let us go home… Katniss, I’ll need your help with something before we leave, alright?”

“‘kay.”

“Mrs. Everdeen…thank you,” Peeta said meekly.

Mama just stood stoically by the door, “You’re family, Peeta, it’s the least we could do for you.” The door clicked shut leaving me alone with my soulmate.

We were both silent for a minute. Then Peeta said half amused, half shyly, “I think the guy cop liked you. I caught him smirking a couple of times after your ruthless answers.” His smile was crooked. Boyish. I almost swooned.

I shrugged. “I don’t think he cared that much,”

“Are you serious?” Peeta laughed, “Katniss, you have no idea the effect you can have,”

I scowled at him, and he just shook his head. I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or complimenting me. He changed the topic before I could decide which.

“So, you’ve been looking for me then?” He sounded nervous, and a little uncertain, “isn’t it weird…we are soulmates, but the only thing I know for sure about you, is that your favorite color is green?” He rubbed his fingers together, then showed me the tips, where he had dark green spots, exactly on the same place I had permanent calluses from pulling on my bow string.

I bit my lower lip, studying the thin spidering of green nicks and scratches, were I surmised my own marks have appeared after my daily trips into the woods.

“Your favorite color is orange. Not bright, but muted…”

“Like the sunset,” he finished for me.

Mind bonding wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities between soulmates, but my understanding on the matter was, that the bond had to be physically sealed before a pair could develop those empathic connections, where soulmates shared perfectly synchronized thoughts, as if they had one mind. Peeta and I weren’t there just yet, but it felt like we understood each other pretty well already.

He just stared at me in fascination, before his face fell, “I hope you don’t get permanently disfigured, if my burn scars don’t go away completely… you are so pretty.”

I rolled my eyes, pleased that he thought I was pretty, but not really knowing how to respond graciously. I’d never been called pretty by a boy before, not that it’d have the same effect as when Peeta said it… “You’re just saying that I’m pretty because I’m your soulmate,”

He smiled sadly, “No… I really mean it. I’ve had a crush on you since I can remember. I just new I belonged to someone since I was like 4, when I saw my first soulmate scratch on my knees. Your favorite colors back then were teal and pink. Your marks were always swirls of the two colors. I liked them. I liked that I belonged to someone who enjoyed colors, like myself… I wondered what your marks looked like, but then, I hoped you never had to see my marks. I was ashamed of them.”

My chest tightened, I climbed onto his bed, and pressed my side right against his, “Hey… I’ve like your marks.” I stuttered, “my parents never let me see the ones on my back until I was older, but I liked the ones you got in normal places. Yours appeared as rainbows where we were little.” I held his hand in mine. “I don’t care if we stay fire mutts forever, Peeta, the important thing is that we are together now,”

“Thank you for finding me,”

“Thank you for leading me to you,”

We leaned our heads together, and fell into an easy silence.

“Katniss…”

“Mmm,”

“We are soulmates.”

I tilted my head away, to look at him, “Yeah. We already established that,” I said suspiciously.

Peeta smirked, “You know, we’re supposed to be madly in love…so, it’s okay to kiss me whenever you want to,”

I snorted and rolled my eyes, but he was right. In any other circumstance, I’m sure we would’ve already progressed into couple-y, lovey-dovey stuff.

“If you’re already fishing for kisses, that means you’re healthy then!” I kissed his forehead. “But let me tell you right now, cheek and sass won’t take too far, sir,”

“It won’t?” he pouted, “then I’ll just have to swoop in when I see an opening,” he leaned into me, and I let him plant a peck, full on my lips.

My first kiss ever, and all I could register was how chapped his lips were… besides the small fluttering of butterfly wings in the pit of my stomach, of course.

“Well, time for a sip of water, and you should rest some too.” I said feeding him the straw in the Styrofoam cup full of icy water by his bed.

After he drank, we gravitated towards each other, meeting in the middle. Our second kiss was short, sweet, and full of relief.

I liked it. In fact, I wanted another, but Peeta was drowsy after the day we’ve had.

“I remember you used to sing, so beautifully, even the birds would stop to listen,” Peeta said, shyly… “would you… mind singing for me?”

“I don’t sing all that much nowadays, but if that’s what you want…”

He stared at me expectantly, so I had no other choice. I combed back his freshly washed hair, and started.

“Just close your eyes;

The sun is going down.

You’ll be alright;

No one can hurt you now.

Come morning light,

You and I’ll be safe and sound...”

When Mama came back, Peeta was asleep, and so she took me outside while my father sat in the room with the case worker, signing in my soulmate’s release papers, waiting for him to wake up.

“I want you to take these,” Mama produced a packet of medicine from a white, pharmaceutical baggie.

“Birth control?!” I groaned, embarrassed.

“Don’t look so scandalized, Katniss,” Mama rolled her eyes, “You and Peeta are healthy, newly acquainted teenaged soulmates, who will suddenly coexist together in close quarters. Papa and I agreed that starting you on contraceptives is the right thing to do,” she fixed me with a stare that broker no protests, “That said, we are not giving you carte blanche to act on pure hormonal instincts, Katniss. While we aren’t so naive to believe you won’t explore intimacy with your soulmate, we fully expect you to use caution, and make responsible decisions. Is that clear?”

I nodded, and snatched the pills from Mama’s outstretched hand. My face was burning with mortification, but I was grateful for my parents’ wherewithal and openness.

The next few days proved harsh and blissful at the same time. After 11 years pestering the authorities, Papa finally got the law to prosecute my soulmate’s parents for abuse and neglect. To call it a victory, was understatement.

Peeta’s father was declared another victim of the Witch’s abuse, but court ordered him to see a therapist and get evaluated by a professional, before he could come back home to his sons.

Mrs. Mellark was charged with endangering a child, battery, abuse and arson. She was court ordered to seek anger management and psychological counseling. She had been abused as a child too, and after watching her son in fire, it finally clicked in her head, that she needed to put a stop to the cycle… late as it may be. She went willingly when the police served her arrest warrants.

Since Peeta and his middle brother were still minors, they were temporarily placed under their eldest brother’s care; but the eldest brother was only 19 and had no idea how to be a father figure, so strange as it was, my parents insisted on having them all bunk in our tiny house, which was comically insufficient. Thank heavens Haymitch Abernathy was still willing to help.

The grumpy old drunk invited the lot of us to stay at his place for as long as we needed, and after cleaning up all the empty bottles and general messes around his huge house, we could enjoy the place at our leisure.

The boys kept working at the bakery, since they needed a source of income, and something to keep themselves occupied. Mama said they needed the normalcy of their business to cope.

It was a good thing Haymitch’s house was so big, since Peeta started having horrible nightmares after his mother was released from holding, after making bail; her trial was still pending, but my poor soulmate suffered severe PTSD from the events that brought us together. Neither of his brothers wanted to share a room with him at night…which allowed me to slip in when I heard him crying out desperately and fearfully.

Peeta would only go back to sleep after I laid beside him and sang, while carding my fingers through his sweat-damped, ashy blond waves.

“I’m not okay until I can see you’re safe,” he told me once.

After the third night in a row of this happening, I just stayed with him in his bed. My parents didn’t exactly approve— we were still 16— but there wasn’t much they could say to stop us. After all, our soulmate bond trumped any other familial bond; we just couldn’t legally get married and apply for housing until we were both 18.

Peeta still woke up in cold sweats at night, but my arms were there to fend off the terrors, and so were my lips.

On the night I felt a hunger so consuming and devastating, gnawing at me from my core, radiating to the tips of my being, I was glad my mother put me on birth control.

My soulmate gently, but steadily joined us together, cementing our physical bond for the rest of time, while branding his love and adoration to me into my very skin, with fevered lips and shaky hands. We gasped and whispered vows of devotion to one another, and then an explosion of feelings and emotions went off… I couldn’t tell where his life force started, and mine ended. We were one. Sharing a single soul.

After, we laid tangled together, our hearts beating as one. Peeta kissed my knuckles, and asked.

“You looked for me, for years. Real or not real?”

“Real.”

He kissed my forehead, “Will you sing?”

“Of course,” I combed back his hair with loving fingers, and sang.

“Just close your eyes;

You’ll be alright;

Come morning light,

You and I’ll be safe and sound.”

#alliswell21 #lovely-tothe-bone #prompt 154 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

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all1e23 · 4 years ago

Text

Between the Stars [Pt.11]

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Series warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Grief. Overall sadness. Depression. It’s pretty angsty if I’m being honest. Things mellow out as the series goes on. TW: Military/Spouse death. **Smut.** 18+ please and thanks.

A/N: It’s here! Just a reminder this is a Bucky chapter. I really struggled with this one so who knows what this is. As always my beautiful beta @moonbeambucky made sure this wasn’t trash. If you like it write me a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

Morning came too fast. The sun rose against Bucky’s wishes for it to stay hidden and keep reality from tearing away the small bit of heaven they created last night. Once it did, Bucky wasn’t sure how he would fare. He hoped well. There’s history, though. He’s watched her love another, and Bucky had loved him too. It made all of this more complicated. There were rules and lines that if crossed, relationships and hearts would never be the same. It wasn’t as simple as a confession of love whispered in the dark, regardless of past promises exchanged and the ones broke with only the stars to bear witness.

One stumble. One misstep and everything would crumble around them.

Was it even safe to say what was on his heart? Was ‘I love you’ too risky, too sudden? It wasn't something Bucky was willing to gamble yet. Maybe once they’ve talked and he’s held her through the fears he knows are there. No admissions this morning, just the quiet they fell into.

Thankfully, that silence was there to say what the heart couldn’t.

The room was already growing warm from the rays spilling in and heating the heap of tangled sheets and limbs. Something was off. Bucky turned to find the source and he couldn’t help the quiet laugh rumbled from his chest. The break in the thick soft coral fabric that usually kept the sun out smiled back at him. It was still parted from the lamp that fell the night before. He had forgotten. The brushed silver stand caught the curtain in the midst of shedding clothes and desperate kissing and falling. The cream colored shade still sat on the floor where it fell and Bucky couldn’t find it himself to be bothered. Bucky ran a hand down his face, but the grin pinching his cheek stayed put regardless. It’s been fifteen years -- Fifteen years! It was hard to believe they were here after everything that happened.

After all the mistakes he made, Bucky never thought he would end up here. He thought for a long time, it was one-sided. A silly crush he convinced himself he would get over if he found enough distractions. Nothing was ever enough because nothing could ever mean more than her. There was a fleeting moment when his chance came into view, and it was snatched away from him before he realized he wouldn’t get another. Last night everything changed. It was… there were no words that could do it justice in Bucky's eyes. It was incredible. Amazing. Perfect. A glimpse of Heaven he never deserved to have and long overdue. It was everything Bucky thought it would be and so much more.

Bucky’s spent most of his life dreaming about a morning just like this. A morning where he woke to a dream, an angel sleeping soundly next to him and wrapped around his heart, invading every inch of his soul. He’s pictured their first time more than he could ever hope to count and no matter how the fantasy started, it never played out like that. It was never that soft and bright and wistful. Dreamlike but unlike any dream Bucky could invent. In the versions that played out in his head, there was always a dramatic confession of love that led to this frantic, consuming moment where they landed tangled around each other and ready to run away together as soon as the sun rose.

This was far better.

Mornings after have never been something Bucky was particularly fond of. He usually woke with a twinge in his soul and a burning in his heart. Burning so badly he couldn’t wait to get away from the faceless woman next to him and he did. As fast as he could, he ran straight for her every time. Looking for absolution or temporary amnesia perhaps. A few hours to forget that it would never be her laying next to him, she would never be his because they weren’t made for each other like he once believed. The feeling he wakes with on those days is reminiscent of an ache he knows he can never mend. It doesn’t feel anything like this. Nothing in his life has ever felt like this, not a single moment in his life has he ever felt this solid. No one but Y/n could make him feel so utterly lost and devastatingly found all in one breath.

There was a nudge to his ankle. A soft foot gently grazing against the tiny hairs resting there and pulling him out of his head and back to her. Bucky rolled onto his side and grinned when he found her hiding behind the blanket, only her eyes peeking out over the fluff that was covering her nose. Her mouth was hidden but he knew by the twinkle in her eye she was smiling. Over the last year, Bucky has become accustomed to seeing her wake with a tearful gleam and ghosts pinning her down. There’s only a smile this morning and somewhere in that stubborn head of his, he knows it’s his doing. He hoped it was his doing.

All he’s ever wanted in this life is to make her happy and, while Bucky knows he will never truly deserve her, it won’t stop him trying to be worthy of her.

Y/n slowly slid the blanket down uncovering that pretty smile, the one Bucky lives and dies by. Seeing it first thing in the morning, when she’s still glowing and he’s still searching for the breath she stole does something to him. Something he couldn’t explain if he was forced to. It’s a good thing, Bucky knows that. He knows that because his hands were still trembling and his heart was pounding like it’s found a new reason to keep beating. It started last night when she asked him to fall and he went tumbling down, Bucky found something more to live for. His second chance at life came from loving her and he wasn’t going to screw it up again.

The quiver in his fingers settled when they brushed her skin and she smiled because of his touch. He placed a soft kiss to her shoulder when his fingers left a shiver in their place. Another kiss to her chest followed the path his hands created as they explored, and another one to her neck. Okay, several to her neck and that spot under her ear that makes her whimper. He really liked that one. Her fingers played with the chain around his neck, slowly wrapping the cold metal around her hand and tugging him forward until his lips to meet her mouth. Bucky slowly crawled over her using his knee to push her legs apart and slipped down between her legs, never once breaking their kiss-- he wasn’t ready to lose their softness.

Bucky draped himself over her, neither bothered getting dressed last night and he was grateful for their laziness this morning. His forearms rested on the bed next to her head and fingers playing with the fallen strands of her hair. She smiled up at him and mumbled a quiet good morning which Bucky returned with a languid kiss, one that only added to the heat filling the room. He didn’t have a real plan for how this would go. The only thing he wanted to do this morning (and for every morning for the rest of forever) is show her how much he loves her. She sighed helplessly when he broke their kiss, staring up at him waiting for him to tell her which path they should follow-- their head or their heart. Yeah. Okay. That was the plan for today. She needed to know that it all means something more. Every touch, every kiss, and every last whisper means more; it did back then and does now. He’s waited so long to have her like this, how could it not mean everything?

It was everything. He would show her. It didn’t matter how they got here or how it happened. None of this happened the way Bucky wanted it to, and he knows exactly what this second chance cost them both, but he just wants to love her the way she deserves to be loved—how he should have been loving her all these years.

Pausing he asked, “Fall with me?”

He bumped their noses together and she smiled up at him.

“Yeah, Buck.”

He returned her grin and checked one more time to be sure, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She leaned up and caught his lips, tumbling into unknown depths once more with only Bucky there to catch her. It felt the same and different. A familiar nuance. Last night was slow and Bucky couldn’t see anything past her. It’s the same this morning; she’s the only thing his heart recognizes but his thoughts are clearer, more focused. It feels less like a dream and more like it could be his future; like it was real, tangible enough he could reach out to take a hold of her, and never let go.

Or so Bucky hoped.

Bucky took his time loving her, the sun was barely up and he wanted to see how far they could fall. However far she was willing to take him, Bucky will follow her wherever. He may be the one making her come undone this time around, but she’s always the one leading the way. So he let her lead, followed every move of her hips and every shiver. God, he loved the way she sounded under him. Those sweet sighs and desperate gasps. His name on her lips.

“Bucky. Bu- Bucky.”

He doesn’t think he will ever tire of hearing his name fall from her lips with such need. It was beyond the heat and want of the moment and while she’s needed him in the past she’s never needed him in this way.

Letting go of her felt like a sin. Something he shouldn’t attempt again and he won’t if he can’t help it. Bucky made the quick trip to the bathroom after her, peeking out the door to watch her curl around his pillow, wearing nothing but the smile Bucky gave her. The sight made him move a little bit faster. He climbed back into bed rubbing his beard against her stomach and chest until she giggled. Bucky whispered against her bare skin, “Ain’t that a pretty sound.”

She smiled and told him his laugh was prettier. Bucky playfully nipped at the sensitive skin under her breast making her yelp and shook his head in disagreement. If she wasn’t still floating in the glimmer of what they had just shared she would argue some more. Bucky urged his head into her hands and she obliged, running her fingers through his hair once he settled down on top of her with his head on her chest and arms wrapped tightly around her waist. He really was like a cat sometimes. Bucky’s eyes felt heavy and her hand slowed, sleep was calling them both and they’ve spent enough time denying their wants.

They could talk later. There was time.

--------

By the time Bucky woke again, the sun was no longer glaring at the window and the room had cooled, despite the fever Bucky created before falling asleep. It took him only a second to realize he was alone this time, the sheets crumbled at the end of the bed leaving his naked skin exposed to the cold air the fan was blowing. There was a note resting on the pillow next to him, smiling less kindly than the curtains had the first time he opened his eyes. He called out for Y/n but there was no answer and without reading he knew what that paper laying next to him said. He rolled into his back and held the note up over his head, reading the words several times over.

There’s coffee ready for you and I threw your cigarettes in the trash. They better stay there. I have something I need to do, but I’ll be back soon.

I’m not running.

Xoxo,

Your trouble.

Bucky held the note to his chest and took a deep breath. It was nice to hear but it didn’t settle the fear in his chest. He could have walked away from all this before but now that he’s held her he can’t go back to the way things were before. It’s all or nothing this time around. He set the letter on the nightstand next to the half empty glass of water and her well-worn copy of Anna Karenina. Bucky had to remind himself, she was marking their path and all he had to do was follow her. Bucky knows her better than she knows herself some days and he knows what she needs right now, and he needs to respect that.

So he did.

The shower seems smaller today. The water burnt his skin regardless of the temperature and the steam felt like it was choking him. He knows it’s because Y/n wasn’t there with him. Which was ridiculous. There hasn’t been a day in his life that he’s shared a shower with her, but not having her downstairs or in their-- her bed weighs heavy on his chest. God did he need a cigarette.

The air was still dense, suffocatingly so, when Bucky made his descent down the stairs that led into the kitchen. His coffee was waiting for him like she said it would be and there was a bright pink sticky note on the lid to the trash-can that caught his eye right away. Bucky snatched it on his way to the mug sitting in front of the glass carafe, reading as he poured.

And you say I’m trouble. Don’t even think about it, Barnes.

Bucky chuckled and pressed the sticky side of the paper to the cabinet door above the pot, grumbling quietly to himself, “Trouble. Just trouble.”

Guess the cigarette was out.

By mid-afternoon, Bucky was unable to sit still for longer than a few seconds. He tried to watch a little TV, stared at Steve’s letters for a solid hour before hastily tossing them back into the drawer, and heading outside to tinker with his bike. No matter what he did, he couldn’t keep his nerves from rattling with each hour that passed. The sun was low before he realized it was setting and the pit in his stomach grew. He forced himself to get cleaned up for the second time today, though, he was washing away a different kind of filth. He had one more thing he needed to grab before she came home and he found himself wandering out onto the front porch at what seemed to be the perfect time -- his heart must have known.

The sound of her car rolling over the gravel somehow unraveled him while keeping him together. He took a few steps to the top of the stairs and watched as she walked up the walkway, stopping in front of him. She looked more at ease than she felt he imagined. He had a pretty good idea what happened this morning and where she went, but he also knew she would tell him the whole story when she was ready to and not a moment before.

“How’s Wanda?”

She grinned.

“She’s fine. Annoyingly perceptive.”

Bucky hummed and pulled out a pale pink peony from his back and held it out for her. She rolled her eyes despite the grin she was unable to stop and took the flower. It was cheesy. Bucky knew it was the cheesiest thing he’s ever done but he didn’t care. He’s spent more than a decade desperate to love her and now that he can, he’s not holding anything back.

“Dinner?” She asked, holding the flower to her nose to hide the size of her grin. Bucky pushed the flower out of the way with his index finger and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.

“Yeah, dinner.”

---------

Bucky wanted to press. Ask her what they were and what she was feeling but that wouldn’t be fair of him to do; demand she tell him exactly what this means and where they are going, after everything she’s been through. She probably didn’t know. He couldn’t fault her for that. This entire year was new for her. She’s had to become a different person, with a brand-new dream towards a future she never planned to live. He’s wanted this for years, but for her, this is just something else that’s changed, something else she needed to adjust to and sort out her feelings for.

He owed her that time. She deserved the time to figure out her feelings without pressure.

She needed the stability of something familiar and if Bucky kept himself from being selfish, he could give that to her. It wouldn’t be that hard. Most things between them hadn’t changed all that much. They’ve always teased each other, had this connection that’s been entirely for them, and no one else. Only a few things have changed and he could hold back if she needed that. Since she’s been home the front porch kiss has been the only one, despite how much Bucky wished they could forget dinner and spend the rest of the night kissing. Then again Bucky always wants to kiss her. So that wasn’t really all that new either. There were plenty of times when he had wanted to tonight. It was usually found in the little things. When she was standing at the stove swinging her hips to the low hum of the radio Bucky had to force himself to keep his hands and lips to himself when all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and let his lips wander her skin with no real destination in mind. Let them land wherever she would allow and beg permission for the rest. He made no move to do so, just stood beside her and listened to every direction she gave him, letting himself fall for the fifth or sixth time in the last twenty-four hours.

“So you are going to show me the marshmallow thing now?”

Bucky laughed but his cheeks were pink and getting brighter by the second.

“I can, but I like how sweet you taste without it.”

Bucky watched the shift in her seat, tilting her chin up and dropping her gaze to where her fingers were dancing on the clear steam of her wine glass. She was flustered. Bucky couldn't help the smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips, he tossed his napkin on the table and watched her. She briefly glanced at him, challenging him with a quick raise of her brow and gave one right back. There were a lot of ways this could go. He could drop it and they would push it aside like they always do, or he could act on the tension between them. The little bit of sauce on her bottom lip really made Bucky want to do the second thing.

Slowly, Bucky closed the few inches between them, scooting her chair closer to him with a gentle pull from his foot and pressing a delicate kiss to the corner of her mouth and running his tongue along the cream on her lips. He barely pulled away before she turned to capture his lips, and it quickly shifted from sweet to desperate and heated. Bucky’s hands find their way onto her backside and slide her off the chair onto his lap with an easy lift.

It was heady. The kiss. Intoxicating and overwrought. More like the times Bucky dreamed of. Hard and a little rough, with a gentle want. Her hips were moving at a frantic pace, pushing the harsh denim against him and he was quickly losing himself in the feeling. It felt good. To let go and give into her and high that came from wanting her. Bucky’s grip tightened on her waist pushing her down harder with each drag of her hips.

If they were young and foolish he would lay her out on the table, shoving the plates and bottles to the floor because the mess wouldn’t matter. Not when he needed to be inside her this badly. They weren’t kids any longer. There were scars and wounds and broken pieces that needed to be mended with softness. She was more than some quick fuck he found himself buried in to ease the void and as good as this felt, he didn’t want to love her like that. Her movements faltered and Bucky helped steady her, giving her the chance to pull back and catch her breath.

There wasn’t much on his mind beyond her, but he followed her glance to the table and met eyes when they landed back on him.

“We have to clean up?” She asked, panting and clearly a little foggy.

Bucky chuckled. She was asking him?

He glanced back at the plates on the table where several drained beer bottles sat next to an empty wine glass with a line of red floating on the bottom, the bowl of pasta they had yet to finish, and empty plates. It was a mess. The plates would be a nightmare to clean after that cream sauce had dried and that little bit of wine in the glass would leave a ring. He didn’t care. With his arm secured tightly around her, Bucky carefully stood with her in his arms and headed straight for the stairs.

With darkened eyes anchored in hers, he assured her, “It will still be there tomorrow, Trouble.”

They could deal with it together in the morning because he’s not going anywhere any time soon. He will be there as long as she’ll have him and with any luck Bucky has this tomorrow and the next because, without her, Bucky doesn’t have one.

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky x you #bucky x reader #modern au #alternate universe #Past!Steve Rogers x reader #military au #TW: military death #tw: character death #tw: death of a spouse

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flare-dragon · 3 years ago

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Deltarune Thoughts (feat. Chapter 2)

A few assorted thoughts/notes:

-Save points don’t exist in the light world, only in the dark world -Ralsei could be based on Kris’ memories/impressions of Asriel

More complex thoughts:

What if Kris did create the dark fountain of Chapter 2? The usual evidence against it is “When could they have done it? They had no time to disappear and make it during gameplay” but I propose one other possible time: Between Chapter 1 and 2. We see the knife at the end of Ch. 1 and think “Oh no! What’s Kris gonna do?” and then it’s revealed we were baited, with Toriel showing us that Kris ate the whole pie and left the knife in the tin. Our thoughts are pretty much “Oh, that Toby Fox! Baiting us with the knife!”, but what if...it wasn’t a bait, and it connects to Ch. 2′s ending, of Kris using the knife to create a new fountain?

The only major points against it would be: -Kris would have to break and enter the Librarby without leaving a trace -No monster would have to have noticed the weirdness coming from the Computer Lab door for most of the day/raised no fuss over seeing it The second one’s not a big issue; the door’s closed when Susie and Kris find it and we only know of Noelle and Berdly going there, who both wind up in the dark world The first one’s a little less easy, but considering Kris was willing to slash Toriel’s tires (likely to keep Susie at home, but that’s just thoughts), I could see them at being willing to try.

I guess the next thought would be “Why? Are they actually The Knight?”, but that’s a different thought~

What if, like how Ch. 1′s dark world seemed tailored to Susie and the playroom, and Ch. 2′s dark world tailored to Noelle and the computer lab, the secret bosses are based off of Kris?

Admittedly a thought I’m still working on, but there were points on how Queen seemed to almost represent Noelle’s image of her mother, overbearing and a little domineering but trying to do what she believes is best for her daughter (and even trying to make sure all the personalised rooms were personalised to what the characters wanted).

Some of that would be related to how social media sites these days really try to show you stuff based on what they know of your searches and such (spooky), but the points on Queen and Noelle’s relationship to her mother leads to thoughts of Susie and her relationship with friendships. It’s unknown what kind of friendships she could have had in the past, but Kris and Lancer were her first friends that we know of. This world ler her be scary and frightening, and “the bad guy”, but she eventually started to veer towards kindness and good, things she really did want.

But one thing that differs so differently from the tales of either chapter are their secret bosses (or, I guess, ‘chaos bosses’?). They speak of darkness and freedom/lack thereof, Jevil believing himself free on his side of the door, and Spamton being willing to go as far as exploit Kris and try to steal their soul just to be free of his ‘strings’. Jevil is effectively playing and being played with, and Spamton wants so badly to be free and absolutely laments that the strings still tie him down to the darkness, with cutting them only leading to shutting down.

If there’s one thing shared between them and Kris, it’s freedom/lack thereof. We, the player/soul, seem to control their actions and life (at least, with the choices we ourselves are given), and Kris seems to resent it (though it’s...hard to say?), having times where they throw out their soul/us just to have their own agency. It’s...unknown if that’s an outside force or is Kris themself though.

Each of the bosses are still rooted in the worlds they come in, hence their theming (Jevil as a Joker card, Spamton as...well, spam), but it makes me wonder~

What if Kris, Asriel, Noelle, and Dess/December used to go to the dark world?

This one’s still half-baked and more crack than genuine theory, but we know that the four of them used to hang out when they were younger, when both Asriel and Dess were around. We’re told Asriel’s gone to college, but we’re given very little information on Dess, aside from the fact that she’s not at home with Noelle and their mum. It could be that Dess is just with Asriel at college or out travelling the world, but it’s also often theorised that something happened to her.

It’s often thought that the hill below town has something to do with it (there was one or two posts connecting it to Mt. Ebott, which was interesting), though there’s not a lot of connection yet (there’s bound to be. The idea there isn’t would be...strange). It could be that the four of them wandered here at one point, but only three returned (you could say Asgore was supposed to be watching them if you wanna use it as the reason he was kicked off of/left the police force)

Makes me wonder if their adventures were actually adventures into the dark world, which would even tie in to the previous point, the idea that the worlds are tailored to those experiencing it. The idea that the darkners had been abandoned by the lightners until The Knight came and gave them a new purpose. It could be the ‘lightners’ were just the four of them having adventures in the dark worlds until Dess disappeared, then they stopped.

Doesn’t explain why now, of all times, the fountains are being opened up again (though one thought is maybe Kris is trying to find Dess before Asriel comes back, but that’s even more out-there), but it’s an interesting thought~

#deltarune #kris #susie #ralsei #noelle #asriel #december #dess #Mostly just assorted thoughts I had and wanted to share~#I had one thought that said 'What if it wasn't Gaster talking to Jevil and Spamton but the original Knight?'#But '...was there an original knight?' and 'unlike the King and Queen these two are referred to talking to one individual #after the darkners were abandoned by the lightners'. It didn't quite track yet #That said the idea that it is the Knight or an old Knight that caused their insanities is still interesting~#Fun fact: The idea that Dess might be fine and with Asriel at college/exploring the world only came to mind while writing this #I /might/ be missing some info though. /Anyways/

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ajbwasntwriting · 4 years ago

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Daughter!Reader X Negan, Reader x Daryl: Chapter 1. Darling Princess

After the sneak peak tested well I decided to post the first chapter. I have many more already written and in the making but I’ll only post them if this gets a good reaction so please if you enjoy this please heart it, reblog it, and/or reply to it. Interaction inspires.

Sucking on another cigarette the stale tobacco burned your throat in a way you would’ve been disgusted by years ago. You looked out your window down at the gate, walkers pulling at it to try and get in. It had been a couple of years since Negan took power and more than long enough for you to feel trapped. You held the smoke in your lungs, a small part of your brain wishing it would ignite inside you and let you combust, before letting it out slow and smooth. Luxuries like this were meant to last. Another luxury was the leather loveseat you were sitting on, and the black and blue mosaic coffee table your feet and ashtray were on, and the acoustic gibson on your lap.

You placed the smoke between your lips to free your hand so you could strum the strings. You were playing an old rock balled your old man had taught you what felt like a life-time ago. He didn’t teach you to play guitar but when you came back from scouts playing campfire songs he insisted on teaching you some real music. You thought back on how many of his guitar strings you broke before that Christmas he bought you your own Washburn. The strings seemed to break less when the instrument was more your size. Those memories felt so distant now. As if they belonged to another person or were part of a movie you watched. The lyrics of the tune you were playing were on the cusp of coming back to you when your door opened violently somewhere behind you.

“My dearest daughter” Negan spoke as he entered your private room. You likened his new way of talking to that of a TV presenter. Always having to keep people on their toes. You used to think it funny when you were a kid but it wasn’t part of his personality then. “What are you doing here? Dinner was half an hour ago.”

“I’m not hungry” you shot back not even turning to face him, which would have been easy since the chair sat with its side to the window, but the walkers chewing on the fence were far more interesting.

“Y/N, don’t lie to me. You said the same at breakfast.” He sauntered over. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Lucille wasn’t with him.

“Food I didn’t earn doesn’t sate my appetite” you shot back, leaning forward to put out your smoke in the ashtray. That must have stirred something within him because the next thing you know you were grabbed by your arm and dragged out of your room, the guitar hitting the ground with a sorry sound. You let him drag you without protest, knowing better.

You were pulled into a plush dining room, immaculately furnished with white cushioned chair and a long oak table, set with silver cutlery. There were five sets in total for you, your father, and three of his ‘wives’. You figured this was some sort of ‘happy family’ play he’d act out but you didn’t know who the viewer was. You? The wives? The men? Or maybe knowing you didn’t want to be here was entertainment enough.

You were shoved into a chair next to the head of the table across from Frankie. She looked comfortable while nursing her drink but you reckoned that wasn’t her first. In front of her sat a bottle of vodka, distilled on-site by worker number 12. Fat Joey was filling the bowls with soup when your father shoved your chair in. He plopped himself into the chair next to you at the head of the table.

“Now isn’t this nice. A big happy family dinner before your old man takes off tomorrow.” You didn’t dignify him with a reply, instead motioning to the bottle of vodka in front of you.

“May I have some, Frankie?” she looked at the bottle then smiled at you

“Go ahead, Princess”. You picked up the bottle and filled your glass half-way to spite her for that nickname.

“Thank you” you tried to be civil, as badly as you wanted to just walk off with the bottle, you sipped your glass instead.

You silently started the soup. The veggies were cut into large pieces. Perfect, chewing gave you a reason not to talk to the dickhead to your left. Your eyes were too buried in your soup to see the other two wives staring at you and your father who was boring holes into your head with his eyes.

“How was your day, Y/N?” Tanya perked up

“Same as yours” you replied with a mouth full of carrot and potato

Silence

“Where are you going tomorrow Negan?” Nicolle added.

“Ladies.” Your father spoke out, his tone showing his distinct lack of patience. “I’m not an idiot. I can tell that our darling daughter doesn’t want to share our company.”

“I made that obvious in my room.” Your spoon fell gracelessly into your bowl. “Why am I here?!”

He reached over and rubbed your cheek affectionately. “Because I love you. And!” he punctuated the final word by raising a finger in front of your face, a silent cue to wait. He stood up from his chair and took off out of the room and down the hall. You took this moment to talk to his wives.

“You don’t have to be nice to me,” you said before starting to shovel soup into your mouth.

“Like hell, we don't.” Frankie retorted, earning a short child from one of the others. You chuckled and swallowed the food in your mouth. You picked up your glass and gestured it at Frankie

“Take notes, Ladies. Frankie doesn’t try bullshit on me” Frankie gestured her glass back. You guessed she’d been in a similar situation, forced to get along with people because it was easier. She didn’t try to be your friend because you knew you wouldn’t appreciate it, which in a weird turn of events you appreciated.

Your father arrived back. It was now you noticed he was a lot cleaner than usual, even the signature leather jacket had left him. Now you were alarmed. In his hands was a pink box with a purple bow. He placed it in front of you and kissed the top of your head. “Happy Birthday, Y/N.”

“Is it my birthday?” you asked, not quite sure. Time had become a blur since the end of the world. You pushed your bowl away to bring the box in front of you.

“Give or take a few months. I know I’ve missed a couple what with...everything...so this will count for at least one of them.” He placed a hand on your shoulder giving it a little squeeze, your own hand finding its way on top “There’s a lot more gifts coming for my princess, don't you worry.” You couldn’t help the smile that came to you, giggling slightly. You looked up at him, seeing nothing but unconditional love being sent back your way

“Dad, it’s alright.” You smiled and turned back to your gift. The wives were now watching, captivated by this little bit of humanity at the end of it all. You gingerly opened the bow and lifted the lid off.

Inside lay a military knife, clearly hand-made on-site with a beautiful leather handle and your name carved into the side in cursive. You released a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. You picked it up, finding it fits in your hand perfectly.

“It’s beautiful” you near-whispered, watching as the candle lights hit against the metal. In a moment it was lodged in the table a mere inch from Tanya’s hand. You kicked back your chair, making your father step back, and grabbed the vodka bottle in one motion. “Now if only I had a reason to fucking use it” you spat as you stormed out of the room.

Back in your room, you sat in the corner with your head against the cold-glass window, looking down at the dead, only illuminated by the moon. You had killed so many of them before arriving at Sanctuary. Hell, you’d say you saved your old man’s ass more than he saved you...but he was a people’s person. Ruthless. But a people’s person. ‘Let me do my thing and I’ll have these assholes sucking my dick in days’.

That was a different age. Back when your father was a teacher. Back when your mother was sick. Back when your father cheated on her with anything with a pulse and she took it out on you. Back when your mother’s treatment and your father’s lifestyle drained your college fund and you had to enlist. Back when she’d attack you, both emotionally and physically, and you took it cause you knew she was in pain. Back when you had come home from a 16-month mission because her condition had worsened. Back when the world went to shit. Back when you had to put her down because your sleazeball of a father wasn’t man enough to do it. You looked down at the dead and thought, if you reached your hands through the wires...you could be back with your mom.

Your door opened slowly, heavy footsteps coming your way. There was no need to look. Only one person would enter your room without knocking. “You scared Tanya back there, Princess.” your father spoke in a low voice.

“She can take it” you croaked, a clear sign you had been crying. He kneeled down beside you. In the reflection of the window, you could see him holding out the knife.

“Please take it.” You turned around, your back now pressed to the window.

“Why?”

“You need to be able to protect yourself”

“Give me a gun then”

“No.”

“Why? Scared I’d leave.” You took a swig of your drink.

“I see you’re upset-”

“Do you?! Do you really?” you cut him short, stumbling to your feet using the window to push yourself up. “Why am I upset? Because I eat food I don’t deserve? Because you make people die for me? Because you have me trapped in a fucking tower like Repunzel or some shit!?” That earned a chuckle from him, which only served to piss you off. “I should be down there earning my bit just like everyone else.”

“Do we have to go over this again?” He sighed dramatically. He cupped your face, the knife now dangerously close to you. “You're my daughter Y/N. My darling baby girl. My precious princess”

“I was twenty-six when this shit hit, dad” you mumbled through your squished cheeks. He gave them a little loving slap.

“You're valuable to me, which means some people might want to hurt you. You eat to stay alive, people die because they’re stupid, and you live in this room on this floor so you can be kept safe.” you blew him off with a wave of your hand and an angry sigh. You pushed passed him to your bed, twirling to sit on it and start taking off your combat boots. He walked over and lodged the knife in your headboard before kneeling down to look up at you. “I have to go out for a while. Find this Rick Grimes asshole and get some payback for the fifteen men he killed at our outpost.”

A chill went up your spine “The one near the hilltop settlement” you whispered.

“That’s right.” You looked him in the eye, not noticing how your lip quivered.

“You don’t have too.” you didn’t know if it was the booze or genuine worry for human life but you found yourself begging. “We have more than enough peo-” he shushed you soothingly, his hand coming up to your cheek, rubbing soothing circles.

“Oh but you know I have too, and while I’m gone I don’t want anyone to get ideas on what they can do to you so” he nodded towards the knife. You pulled it out of the wall, looking it over before nodding, mouthing ‘okay’ and depositing it in your nightstand table. He kissed your forehead before leaving, wishing you a good night. Once again alone you took two large gulps of your drink and laid down.

Edit: For creative reasons Y/N is now 26 at the beginning of the apocalypse instead of the original 24

#daughter x negan #daughter reader #daughter reader x negan #twd negan #the walking dead negan #the walking dead #twd #twd reader insert #twd imagine #twd y/n #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #the walking dead tv #twd tv #slowburn #AJ's Negan's Daughter AU

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grapesodatozier · 5 years ago

Text

Anything You Want

a fic for @heterophobicrichietozier !! thank you so much for requesting this fic!!

rating: explicit

words: 7.5k

tags/warnings: sugar daddy au, domtop!richie, subbottom!eddie, daddy kink, age gap, marking (hickeys), degradation and praise, porn with feelings, mentions of sonia’s abuse

notsfw below the cut!!

Eddie Kaspbrak was running short on both money and patience. He was only just over a month into his second year of nursing school, and he was already struggling to pay his rent. And sure, rent in New York City was never easy to pay, but he’d been saving, he’d had a plan. The problem was that pretty much all of his money had unexpectedly gone toward his tuition when his mother had refused to pay for a second year at school.

At eighteen, Eddie had left his small hometown in Maine and moved to New York City to start college. He had just barely convinced his mother to let him go, and to help with his tuition as long as he covered his own rent. He was required to call her four nights a week, and he had to go back on the “medicines” he’d disavowed around age fifteen (all of which he routinely flushed down the toilet), but the physical distance had been amazing—at first. Soon, though, it wasn’t enough, and his mom started demanding he call her every night, accusing him of being reckless and taking advantage of her. When he’d told her he wasn’t coming home for the summer, she’d exploded into hysterics, crying and telling him he had to come home. It was when she began rambling on about how Eddie was probably running around with dirty New York City girls and catching all sorts of horrific sexual diseases, demanding that he come home so that she could keep an eye on him and find him a nice girl when she decided he was ready for one, that Eddie had snapped. Though it had been the result of years of pent up frustration and rage, he had stayed calm as he told her that he wasn’t missing her calls because of girls, but because of guys—because he spent his weekends getting fucked by men. “Sorry Ma,” he’d said, his voice cool as steel and even as could be, “but I can’t really pick up the phone when I’ve got some guy’s cock inside of me.” It wasn’t exactly the coming out his friends Bill, Ben, and Mike had been gently running by him, but he was angry, and it had felt good; he figured she’d have had the same reaction no matter how he said it, so what the hell, right?

Still, it stung when she’d told him she wasn’t paying for his college anymore. He hadn’t really believed her at first, as she was still hounding him about his sins and how he needed to come home, but sure enough, when emails about tuition began rolling around, they all went to his school email and explained that his name was the only one on his account, that his mother had bestowed the loans onto him and given up the account. Eddie nearly vomited when he’d received that email. As soon as the room stopped spinning, he blocked his mother’s number.

He already had a job for the summer tied down, but it was just an internship level position filing in a medical office, and it was only four days a week; there was no way it would cover tuition and rent and food, among other expenses. So he was forced to take on a second job as a waiter at a new restaurant a few blocks away from his apartment, then a third job working at a mechanic shop on Fridays and Saturdays. On top of all of that work, he had to completely redo his FAFSA and reapply for loans given his new financial circumstances. His school and the government did give him a bit more, but not enough to drop any of his jobs.

By the time classes rolled around, he had paid his tuition for the semester, but he’d had to dip into money he’d been saving for rent. Now, in early October, he was still working Fridays and Saturdays at the garage and was waiting tables Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. He had a night shift shadowing a nurse on Tuesdays, which left Thursdays and Sundays as his only free nights, nights which he largely spent doing homework. All of this work, and he had still been eating Cup Noodles for the past two weeks.

It was a Friday night, and everything had been going wrong. In the middle of his shift at the garage, he’d gotten a notification from his school’s site informing him that he’d gotten a C on his most recent test, one he’d lost sleep over studying. Then work at the garage had run over and he barely had time to eat dinner before making it to the restaurant in time. He was tired and upset and feeling badly about himself, not to mention missing a party all of his friends were going to, so all it took was one baby boomer yelling at him over a mixed up order for him to excuse himself to the back room and start bawling. Thankfully, his manager seemed to be understanding and let him cool off. “I’ll take that table until they leave,” she told him, to his immense relief and gratitude. By the time she came back to check on him he had calmed down considerably and was staring into the mirror in the break room trying fruitlessly to pat down the puffiness around his eyes, trying to will away the redness that lingered. “Hey,” his manager said, “you wanna take table four?” Eddie sighed and nodded, trying out a smile. “Atta boy.”

He took a deep, steadying breath before heading out for his new table. His eyes fell on a table of three: a woman with dark red curls that fell to her shoulders, a man with truly impeccable posture, and the hottest man Eddie had ever seen in his life. And he was unabashedly looking Eddie up and down from behind a pair of thick rimmed glasses as he approached. “Hi!” Eddie greeted them, his big, bright customer service smile finding its way onto his face like it was possessing him. “I’m Eddie, and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you guys started with some drinks?”

“You got me started already,” the hot guy said. Then, meeting Eddie’s eyes, his brow furrowed. “Have you been crying?”

Luckily, Eddie didn’t have to respond to that, as the guy’s much more refined friend chimed in, “I’ll have a gin and tonic, please,” just as the redheaded woman was letting out an exasperated, “Richie, oh my god.”

“One gin and tonic,” Eddie smiled, his cheeks burning. “Anything else?”

“Could I have a martini, please?” the woman smiled kindly up at him.

“Martini, got it.” As he jotted it down, he prepared himself to face the hot guy—Richie, apparently. When he did, he was struck by the depth of his blue eyes. He was surprised by how warm they were, and they glittered as he smiled up at Eddie. “And for you?”

“What do you like?”

“Oh, I’m not old enough to drink,” Eddie flushed, letting out a small laugh. With a joking smile, he added, “The Shirley Temples are great, though.”

Richie laughed, his eyes never leaving Eddie. “A Shirley Temple it is.”

Eddie’s gaze didn’t waver either, and he put on his best innocent, big-brown-eyes look as he asked, “Virgin or dirty?” He had to fight back a smirk when he saw Richie’s eyes darken.

“Dirty.” The way he said it sent a thrill down Eddie’s spine. “Pretty please, with three cherries on top.”

“You got it,” Eddie said with a wink. Though the day was still weighing on him, he was beginning to feel better already. He might have even swayed his hips a little more than necessary as he walked away. He told himself it was because he could tell this Richie guy was into him, so he was aiming for a nice tip, but really Eddie loved the attention itself. With his schedule, he no longer had time for the hookups he spent his freshman year indulging in. So he couldn’t be blamed for preening under the attention of a hot older guy. Honestly, it was the pick me up he’d been needing for months.

The night went on, all three of them being incredibly kind to him, with Richie throwing in not at all subtle flirtations any chance he got. Eddie didn’t miss the three knotted cherry stems on Richie’s napkin when he brought their food and offered to refill their drinks.

He was almost sad to see Richie go, but he was grateful for the small smile he had on his face as he went to collect his tip and clear the table. At first he went to simply slip the cash into his pocket, but then he realized there was a note on the napkin beneath it: a name, Richie Tozier, with a phone number under it. It was then that Eddie realized he was holding five hundred dollars in his hand. He quickly stuffed it in his pocket, an embarrassed flush running from his ears down his chest as he hurried to clear the dirty dishes and bring them back to the kitchen.

The cash burned a hole in his pocket all night, all the way home. What the fuck? he thought to himself. Because seriously, who leaves a five hundred dollar tip on a meal that was barely over a hundred? Eddie locked his apartment door and placed the money on his dresser, staring at it. Five one hundred dollar bills. Who carried that around? What if they were counterfeit? Eddie pulled out the napkin and studied that as well, deciding to Google the name Richie Tozier. His jaw dropped when he did. There his face was, with his big glasses, cocky smile, and fluffy, dark curls. Apparently the guy was on SNL and had two Netflix comedy specials. He was also twenty-eight, nearly ten years older than Eddie. His net worth? Five million dollars.

Eddie sat down on his bed, his mind spinning. The place Eddie worked was nice enough, but it wasn’t exactly frequented by millionaires. Still in his work clothes, he dialed the number, figuring there was no way it would go through.

He picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

It was his voice. “What the fuck?” Eddie blurted out.

He heard a bright laugh on the other end. “Is this Eddie?”

“Yeah, it is, and seriously, what the hell? Five hundred dollars?”

“You looked upset,” Richie said. He sounded like he was trying to be nonchalant about it, but his voice had softened noticeably.

“So you gave a stranger five hundred dollars?” Eddie was honestly more confused than upset. Sure, maybe his pride was a little bruised, but to be honest he was touched. And kind of turned on.

“Just redistributing my wealth,” Richie joked. “I’ve got more than I know what to do with, so I figured giving it to a pretty boy who was having a bad day was a pretty good way to spend it.” Eddie flushed at that—pretty boy. The way Richie said it, so casually, yet with a joking tone that made it almost teasing, had Eddie’s pants getting tight. When Eddie stayed silent, Richie continued, “There’s more for you where that came from, if you’re interested.”

“What?” Eddie said, blood rushing in his ears. Was this guy serious? Was this actually happening?

“I’d be happy to help you out if you need it. A college kid like you should be partying on a Saturday night, or taking a fucking nap, not crying at a minimum wage job.”

“Like a sugar daddy?”

Richie laughed. Eddie loved the sound of it. “Yeah, like a sugar daddy, baby.” The pet name made Eddie shudder, made him feel like he was glowing. But still, he didn’t want this guy getting ideas.

“I’m not gonna have sex with you.” Even as he said it, his cock was hard, and the memory of the way Richie had been flirting with him made his skin hot. But he wanted to make explicitly clear that he wasn’t into selling himself.

“That’s not why I’m offering. Seriously, I just wanna help you out. And sure, maybe you’re ridiculously cute, and maybe I want to get to know you, but mostly I wanna help you out. Pay for your rent, give you time to study and party and be a college student.”

And how could Eddie turn that down? As much as he was struggling with it, with his pride and the stranger danger anxiety that his mother had ingrained in him, he seriously doubted that a hot millionaire would come around again offering to pay his rent.

So Eddie agreed, and soon he was sending Richie his Venmo information. Two minutes later his phone screen glowed with a notification: Richie Tozier sent you $2,000.

It had been hard to get used to at first, but cutting his work schedule down to just Monday and Wednesday nights at the restaurant and just Friday afternoons at the garage felt amazing. He finally felt rested, could finally give his schoolwork the attention it needed.

“You know, you really don’t need to work at all if you don’t want to,” Richie told him one night when they were having dinner together.

“I know,” Eddie said to his food, “but I like the independence of it. And working with cars calms me down, it makes sense to me.” He didn’t mention the real reason he kept both jobs: the big Just In Case that loomed over him. This seemed like a fairy tale situation, like an extended, intricate prank, and he was terrified that something would go wrong. He wanted to be prepared if Richie suddenly pulled out for some reason.

However, as the months passed it became pretty clear that even without sex Richie wasn’t going anywhere. And that started complicating things.

It was late in December, which meant finals and holidays, which meant lots of stress. It was the first Christmas Eddie wouldn’t be spending at home, and that made him feel sad in a way he didn’t understand; he was incredibly happy to be free of his mother, but there was something so final about it. He supposed it was still a loss, even if it was a welcome one. On top of that, his days were plagued by the anxiety that she might get a new number, might start calling him again, might show up at his door and whisk him back to Maine. So it was just negativity on top of worrying on top of sadness. Under all this stress, he found himself spending more and more time at Richie’s apartment, more and more time talking to Richie, wanting to get close to him.

So far, things had been pretty professional. They got meals together once or twice a week, often in Richie’s apartment due to fans of his popping up everywhere wanting pictures. Mostly they hung out because Eddie liked it; Richie was always reminding Eddie that he didn’t owe Richie anything, but Eddie genuinely liked his company.

Also, he was still ridiculously hot, and he fawned over Eddie like he was the one getting paid.

Seriously, Richie was so amazing to him, it wasn’t just the money. When someone at work pissed him off, Richie put on one of Eddie’s favorite shows and offered to hire some people to beat up whatever asshole customer had yelled at him. When Eddie complained that the construction outside his apartment was affecting his studying, Richie let him study in his apartment, and even brought him hot chocolate and rubbed his shoulders.

Now it was a Thursday, and Eddie had finished his last final. He had just gotten home from saying goodbye to Bill, Mike, and Ben for winter break when Richie called. Like always, the loneliness that was threatening to creep over him began to ebb as soon as he heard Richie’s voice. “Hey! How’d your test go? We still on for dinner to celebrate?”

Eddie appreciated the offer, but a fancy dinner wasn’t what he wanted just then. “Can we do dinner at your place tonight?” he asked, his voice worn and small.

“Of course, anything you want.”

Richie’s driver picked Eddie up, so he didn’t actually see Richie until he was knocking at his door and falling into his arms. Richie, with his roughly nine or ten inch height advantage over Eddie, easily scooped him up and brought him to the couch. “So would it be tone deaf of me to ask how the exam went?” Richie grinned, settling down with Eddie resting against him. Eddie tucked his feet under his legs as he leaned into Richie’s embrace, finding the relief he’d been needing all day once Richie’s arms were around him.

“The exam went okay,” he sighed. “But Bill, Ben, and Mike all went home today, and I won’t see them for like a month.”

Richie shifted so he was leaning against the arm of the couch, facing Eddie. Eddie naturally moved closer, like a magnet was pulling him toward Richie, and he ended up practically in Richie’s lap. He let out a small, happy sigh as Richie stroked his hair. “I could send you on a trip somewhere, take your mind off of it.”

But it wasn’t just the location that was the problem. Sure, he wanted something to do, but mostly he wanted someone to do things with. A specific someone, if he was being honest with himself.

Eddie looked down and ran his hand lightly over the stitching on the pocket of Richie’s button up. It was covered in a Pac-Man pattern, but Eddie knew it was more formal than his normal look. The idea that Richie had dressed up somewhat for dinner with him made him smile. And it should have calmed him down as he prepared to ask Richie his next question, but his heart was still racing as he took a deep breath and looked up into Richie’s eyes. “Will you come with me?”

Richie’s eyes widened just barely before a smile broke across his face. “You thought I’d miss out on buying you souvenirs?”

Eddie beamed. Richie looked so beautiful when he smiled, and his hand was a comforting weight on Eddie’s hip. The thought of travelling with Richie, of sharing a hotel room with him—sharing a bed with him—made Eddie glow. “Did you have any destination in mind?” he asked.

“Anywhere you want.”

Richie’s voice was soft and low, Eddie felt like he could melt into it. He ran his hand up Richie’s chest, cupped his cheek, and watched Richie’s eyes dart over Eddie’s face, clearly trying to get a read on the situation. Eddie had been thinking about crossing this line for a while. He’d been holding back for months, and as the months moved by, his hang ups had begun to feel less and less important. Sure, the money made things different. But, did it have to? Did it really? Richie was here. Richie was holding him without expectation. As Eddie watched Richie lick his lips, as he felt Richie’s hands on him, he couldn’t remember a single reason he’d come up with to not dive headfirst into what they both so clearly wanted, what they had both wanted since the moment their eyes met for the first time.

So he leaned in, the tension that had been building for months coming to a head and taking his breath away. But just as their lips were about to come together, Richie murmured a soft, reserved, “Eddie.” Eddie’s heart caught at his tone, and he pulled back a bit, trying to figure out what was going wrong. “You know you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to do it,” Eddie huffed. He was pouting now, and moving to straddle Richie’s hips. “I want you, so bad. I’ve wanted you ever since I met you.” He took Richie’s hand in his and kissed his knuckles. “No one’s ever treated me as well as you do. The way you take care of me, the way you look at me... I’ve never wanted someone this bad before.”

Richie studied Eddie’s face, his eyes softening, darkening. He unfurled his fist and held Eddie’s jaw in his hand, ran his thumb over Eddie’s lower lip. “Fuck, you deserve the world, angel.” Eddie flushed at that. His heart was racing at the light, teasing way Richie pressed down on his lip. Just as he was about to wrap his lips around Richie’s thumb, Richie slid his hand into Eddie’s hair, holding it noticeably tighter than he normally would. “Tell me what you want, baby.” His voice was low and rough in a way that made Eddie wish he would just bend him over and fuck him senseless already.

But Eddie didn’t mind being coy, didn’t mind pulling the tension as tight as it would go, seeing how much he could tease before Richie snapped and took him the way Eddie wanted him to. “I want you to kiss me.” His nose was bumping against Richie’s now, and he could feel Richie’s shallow breath on his lips. Richie’s eyes were dark and didn’t move from Eddie’s face. Eddie took Richie’s hand and guided it from his waist to his hip, just barely on his ass. Biting his lip, he whispered, “I want you to fuck me, so bad.” He put on a pout and continued, “I fuck all these college guys, but none of them are you. They aren’t as tall as you, their hands aren’t as big as yours.” Eddie watched Richie’s jaw clench. “They can’t fuck me the way I know you could.”

“Fuck, baby,” Richie nearly growled. Eddie gasped when Richie grabbed his ass, hard, and tugged his head back. “Did you think about me while they fucked you?” he whispered in Eddie’s ear, his warm breath sending a shiver through Eddie.

“Every time,” Eddie said, gripping Richie’s shirt in his hands. “Wanted it to be you so bad.”

Richie nuzzled against Eddie’s neck, still not kissing him, still making him wait while he groped his ass. “I know, baby. You needed more, huh? You need your daddy to take care of you.”

Eddie let out a surprised little noise of pleasure. No one had ever said that to him before. He wasn’t expecting it, and he certainly wasn’t expecting how much he would like it. It made him so hard he got dizzy, completely pliant in Richie’s arms. “Yes,” he breathed, already pathetically desperate. “Yes, daddy, need you so bad, please, please.”

Richie cursed under his breath and grabbed Eddie by the jaw, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. Eddie couldn’t help but let out a little whimpering moan when he finally, finally felt Richie’s lips against his. They were just as soft as they looked, and so full. As Eddie sank his fingers into Richie’s thick, dark curls, Richie sat up a bit and pulled Eddie closer against him, grabbing him by the hips and pressing their clothed cocks together. Eddie gasped and buried his face in Richie’s shoulder at the feeling. He mouthed at Richie’s neck, moaning at the way Richie smacked his ass. “This is mine, got it?” he said, his voice smooth and low. “None of those little college pricks are allowed to fucking touch you. Understand?”

Eddie moaned at Richie’s sudden possessiveness. All he wanted was to be Richie’s, for Richie to claim him and show him who he belonged to. “Yes, daddy. ‘M all yours, just wanna be yours.”

“Good boy.” He tugged at Eddie’s hair again, pulling his head back so that his neck was exposed. Eddie yelped as Richie licked a stripe up his throat and sunk his teeth into Eddie’s throat, sure to leave a dark bruise. Eddie squirmed in Richie’s lap as he sucked on his neck, hard and intentional. With a final kiss to the bruise, Richie said with a satisfied grin, “Now everyone’s gonna know you’re mine.” He chuckled and nipped at Eddie’s neck again when Eddie moaned. “Yeah, you like that baby? You like when daddy takes what’s his? You want everyone to know what a good little slut you are for your daddy?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed, already starting to feel like he was floating. After finals and classes and work and months of controlling himself around Richie, this was exactly what he needed. It felt so amazing to just let go and let Richie take control, knowing Richie would take care of him. He couldn’t believe how good this was and none of their clothes had even come off yet. He fumbled with the buttons on Richie’s shirt, but Richie just chuckled and grabbed him by the wrists.

“That’s cute, baby. Daddy decides whose clothes come off and when, yeah?” Eddie whimpered and nodded. Richie slid his hands back under Eddie’s ass and stood then, lifting Eddie up. Eddie instinctively held tight to him, wrapping his legs around Richie’s waist and his arms around his neck. Richie kissed Eddie’s hair as he walked them to the bedroom. “Just let me take care of you, sweetheart.” Eddie’s heart soared as Richie sat him down on the edge of the huge bed, the duvet soft and cool under him. His legs dangled off the side. Richie’s eyes softened as he stroked Eddie’s hair. “You doing okay?” he checked.

“So good,” Eddie nodded enthusiastically, his hands fisted in Richie’s shirt.

Richie leaned down and kissed Eddie’s forehead, and by the time he straightened up again that look that made Eddie shiver was back on his face. Still cradling Eddie’s face, he asked, “Can I get a little rough with you, baby?”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Please,” he moaned.

A dark, mischievous grin pulled at Richie’s full, dark pink lips. “That’s a good boy,” he said with a kiss to Eddie’s jaw. “Arms up.” Eddie quickly did as he was told, eager for Richie to strip his shirt off for him. “Fuck, baby,” Richie groaned as he tossed Eddie’s shirt aside. He ran his hands up Eddie’s sides and teased his thumbs over Eddie’s hardened nipples, making him gasp and grab at the sheets. Richie’s hands looked even bigger wrapped around Eddie’s ribs. It made him press his legs together, his cock throbbing desperately in his jeans. “Aw, you don’t need to be shy, kitten,” Richie cooed, forcing one of his legs between Eddie’s and pressing his thigh against Eddie’s crotch. Eddie moaned at the contact and desperately started grinding against Richie’s leg. “Fuck, you look so pretty grinding on me like that. Think you could come like this?” Richie pressed his thigh harder against Eddie’s cock. “Think I could make you come in your pants?” Eddie cried out as Richie pinched his nipples.

“God, yes,” Eddie moaned, rolling his hips. And he could, he could feel the pleasure building and building. But just as his moans were getting breathier, just as he was really desperately rutting against Richie’s leg, Richie pulled away and tugged Eddie up by his belt loops so quickly Eddie got dizzy and fell into Richie’s solid chest. “Wh-what,” he pouted, looking up at Richie, who was smirking at him.

“Aw, baby, we’re just getting started.” Still dazed and whimpering and achingly hard, Eddie held onto Richie as he undid Eddie’s jeans. Richie then dropped to his knees to pull them off. He helped Eddie step out of his jeans, running his hands reverently over Eddie’s legs as he did so. ��Oh, sweetheart, you’ve been keeping these thighs from me for months?” Richie kissed them, making Eddie quiver and flush. “Fucking tease,” he murmured into Eddie’s skin before biting down hard on the inside of Eddie’s thigh. Eddie cried out and grabbed at the bed for support. “Look at these fuckin’ things, you basically wore panties for me.” Eddie gasped as Richie playfully tugged at Eddie’s light pink, silky briefs with his teeth. He’d mostly worn them to feel confident during his exam, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of Richie when putting them on, or if he said he hadn’t bought them with money Richie gave him. Eddie leaned back as Richie spread his legs, lifting one up to get a better angle to suck marks into Eddie’s skin. The sight of Richie’s head between Eddie’s thighs, combined with the knowledge that his thighs would be covered in bruises by the end of the night, had a wet spot forming on the front of Eddie’s briefs. Richie nuzzled his face into the soft material, just barely grazing Eddie’s cock. He looked up at Eddie, his blue eyes nearly totally eclipsed. “Did you buy these with daddy’s money, baby?” Eddie nodded, blushing. Richie smirked at him. “Is this how you spend your allowance? On slutty little panties?” Eddie moaned at that and grabbed at Richie’s hair, rolling his hips forward and meeting only air. Richie chuckled. The condescension of it went straight to Eddie’s cock, which visibly twitched in his tight little briefs. “Aw, you like being called a slut, don’t you? You like it when I call you out on being a spoiled little cocktease?” Eddie yelped when Richie bit down on the inside of his other thigh.

“Daddy, please,” he whimpered. “Need you.”

For a moment Richie just hummed and kept sucking marks into his skin. But then, finally, he dragged Eddie’s briefs down and off his legs, leaving him fully exposed. Before Eddie could process what was happening, Richie was standing and spinning Eddie around and bending him over the bed, his face pressed into the mattress as his feet once again dangled over the floor. He let out a broken little moan as he felt Richie pull his cheeks apart and run his tongue over Eddie’s hole. After Richie had set a rhythm, lulling Eddie into a pleasured haze, he suddenly felt Richie’s hand come down on his ass. He moaned at the feeling, the slight pain that left an amazing stinging sensation in its wake. “God, you make the prettiest fucking noises,” Richie groaned, once again lapping his tongue over Eddie’s hole. He circled the ring of muscle a few times before pulling back. Eddie was just about to push his hips back when he felt Richie spank him again, harder this time, then felt him spit on his hole. Eddie let out a long moan; it was degrading and possessive in the best way. Eddie tried to rut against the bed, to relieve some of the desperate need that had his cock throbbing, but he couldn’t really do it with the way his feet were hanging off the bed. He heard Richie laugh behind him as he spanked him again. “Aw, you like that, baby? You like when daddy spits on you?”

Eddie let out a muffled, pathetic little, “Yes.”

“I know, it feels good, doesn’t it? Bet you wish you could get off right now.” Eddie’s desperate writhing was confirmation of that. “Don’t worry, kitten, daddy’s gonna fucking take you apart.” Eddie gasped as he felt Richie slide his tongue inside of him, setting a rhythm of fucking and swirling and teasing that had Eddie squirming. He rocked his hips back, letting his mind go fuzzy from the pleasure until suddenly Richie was pulling out and lifting Eddie up again. As disappointed as Eddie was to have Richie’s tongue no longer in his ass, he was more than happy to let Richie toss him around and lay him on his back, his head falling against the luxuriantly soft pillows. He felt so small in Richie’s bed, felt so vulnerable under his gaze—he loved it. Richie ran his hand all the way from Eddie’s throat down to his hip, taking his time before squeezing Eddie’s hip hard. “God, you look so fucking good like this, baby.” He made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, shrugging it off and tossing it aside.

Eddie let out an involuntary little moaned, “Fuck,” at the sight of Richie’s bare chest. He sat up and ran his hand over Richie’s soft, pale skin, admiring his freckles and the slight muscle definition. His shoulders looked somehow even broader now as Eddie traced his fingers over them. Richie only humored him for a moment before pressing Eddie back down and kissing him, deep and just the right amount of forceful.

Richie’s hands roamed all over Eddie’s body. “God, you’re such a pretty little boy, baby. Can’t wait to see what you look like when you’re getting fucked.” Richie bit down on Eddie’s lip, sending a thrill of pleasure through his body. “I don’t want you fucking leaving this bed for the next week, gonna bring you everything you need. Gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk, and then I’m gonna do it again, and again.” Eddie moaned as he felt Richie’s finger circling his slick hole. “Gonna keep you nice and full of my cock whenever I can, gonna take such good care of you. You won’t need to worry about anything, gonna be my pretty little pillow princess. You just lie there and be a good little cocksleeve and daddy will take care of everything else.” Eddie preened at the thought of Richie fawning over him, of Richie doing everything for him so that all he had to do was lie back and take Richie’s cock. It had him squirming under Richie as he grabbed at Eddie wherever he could reach, surely leaving handprints all over Eddie’s body as he glided his tongue over Eddie’s. “Can’t wait to get my cock inside you, baby.” Richie sat back on his heels then and eyed Eddie’s hole, rubbing at it teasingly.

“Please,” Eddie moaned, trying to rock his hips onto Richie’s finger.

“Shh, baby, soon,” Richie soothed, leaning over to kiss Eddie again before reaching into his bedside table. He pulled out a bottle of lube and covered his fingers in it. Eddie moaned at the sight; he didn’t think a day had gone by where he hadn’t thought of Richie’s fingers since the first time they met. They were so long, and he could only imagine how amazing they would feel inside of him, fucking him, stretching him open. Richie chuckled when Eddie instinctively opened his legs. “I know, sweetheart, I know.” He tossed the lube aside and ran his clean hand over Eddie’s thigh, holding him still before slowly sliding a slick finger inside of him.

Eddie gasped and threw his head back; one of Richie’s fingers felt like two of his own and reached deeper than he ever could have by himself. “Fuck,” he cried, “your fingers are so big, oh my god.”

“Yeah?” Richie grinned, cocky and dark. As he slowly began sliding his finger in and out of Eddie, he slid his other hand up his chest until he was cradling his jaw and running the pad of his thumb teasingly over Eddie’s lips. “One finger and you’re already a mess, huh? You like the way I fill you up, baby?” Eddie moaned as Richie slid his thumb into Eddie’s mouth, effectively silencing any response Eddie could’ve made. He let out a contented hum and eagerly sucked on Richie’s finger, holding onto Richie’s forearm with both of his hands as he bobbed his head. “Fuck, that’s it, baby. Such a good little slut for daddy.” Eddie moaned again, rocking his hips as Richie began to finger him faster. Eddie cried out as Richie thrust deep inside of him, making him see stars. “Yeah, you like how deep I can get inside you, baby?” Eddie nodded. “I fucking love it too, angel. You’re so tight, so small and sweet.” He slid his thumb out of Eddie’s mouth and pressed his palm to Eddie’s throat. Eddie’s eyes widened for a moment, and he tilted his head back, giving Richie better access. Richie pressed down slightly under Eddie’s jaw on either side of his throat, moaning at the blissed out smile that graced Eddie’s face. Richie only pressed down a bit, only for a few moments at a time, just enough to get Eddie’s cock leaking all over himself. He let out breathy little moans as Richie finger fucked him, the wet sounds filling the room.

“Daddy,” Eddie moaned. He met Richie’s eyes as he begged. “Please, please, fuck me, daddy, want your cock so bad.”

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s cute” Richie grinned, his voice low and condescending in a way that made Eddie’s cock throb. “I need to open you up a little more before you’re ready for my cock.” As he said it, he pressed another slick finger inside of Eddie, stretching him out. Eddie felt so full already from just two of Richie’s fingers; his cock ached at the thought of how big Richie’s cock would feel inside of him.

Eddie was pulled out of his thoughts as Richie spit on his chest, sliding his free hand over Eddie’s nipples, getting them nice and wet as he played with them. “Daddy,” Eddie began, but he cut himself off with a scream as Richie curled his fingers inside of him, making electric pleasure shoot through him. He moaned and squirmed and grabbed at Richie’s hair, at the sheets, anything to ground himself as Richie leaned down and sucked on his nipples, still relentlessly fucking Eddie’s hole with his fingers. “Please,” Eddie gasped, “daddy, please.”

“You sure you’re ready, baby?” Richie teased.

“Fuck me, please,” he whined, clearly getting impatient. “I can take it!”

“Oh yeah?” Richie asked, pulling his fingers out. He had a look on his face that had Eddie’s blood pounding in excited anticipation. “Okay, baby. If you think you can take it.” He stood up off the bed then, and Eddie sat up a bit to watch. With rapt attention, his eyes followed Richie’s every movement as he dragged his jeans off his legs, then stripped off his boxers.

“God, daddy,” Eddie whimpered, drooling over the sight of Richie’s cock. It was thick and heavy and hard, and so fucking long, Eddie couldn’t believe he’d been keeping himself from a dick like that for months. It was even longer than any of his dildos or vibrators. He needed to feel it down his throat, he needed it.

Seeming to sense this, just as Eddie began to move toward him Richie lightly shoved him back down. “Stay where you are, baby.” Eddie whined but reluctantly complied. The way Richie tauntingly stroked his cock just out of Eddie’s reach had him debating whether it was worth it to be bratty if it meant getting his throat fucked. But his cock was throbbing between his legs, his hole pitifully empty, and watching Richie roll a condom on and lube up his cock made it hard to think about anything other than getting fucked. “Maybe if I’m feeling generous I’ll come on your face,” Richie mused, almost casually as he climbed back onto the bed and spread Eddie’s legs, settling naturally between them. Eddie moaned at his words and melted back into the bed. The sight of Richie above him, the way he touched him, had Eddie completely pliant. He felt warm and buzzy, almost liquid as Richie ran his hand reverently over Eddie’s thigh. As he teased the head of his cock over Eddie’s hole, he took Eddie’s hand in his and entwined their fingers. While Eddie nearly moaned just at that sight alone, at the way Richie’s hand engulfed Eddie’s own, it was also incredibly endearing, and it made something stir in his chest. Guys didn’t normally hold his hand when fucking him, and if they tried it was just weird, as he pretty much only did hookups. But with Richie… it felt different. The way Richie looked at him was different. Like he didn’t want to miss a single thing Eddie did.

Richie’s voice was low and rich and brought Eddie back as he asked, “Ready?” Eddie bit his lip and nodded. As Richie pressed himself inside of Eddie, careful and slow, Eddie squeezed Richie’s hand. His mouth dropped open in a silent cry as he felt every inch of Richie’s cock filling him up. Once he bottomed out, Richie let out a low groan and rested his forehead against Eddie’s, pressing kisses all over Eddie’s face.

“Holy… holy shit,” Eddie panted, letting his body adjust. He’d never felt this full before, had never had anything so deep inside of him. “Oh my god.”

Richie chuckled in his ear as he kissed Eddie’s neck. “What’s the matter, kitten?” he teased.

Eddie couldn’t even be bothered to take the banter bait; everything felt too good, his mind was numb. “You’re so big,” he said dumbly, saying exactly what was on his mind. “No one’s ever been this deep inside me before, holy shit.”

“I can tell,” Richie hummed. “So fucking tight for me, baby, it’s fucking amazing.” Eddie let out a small whimper as Richie sucked on his neck. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed. “I just, I need just a minute.”

Richie nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “As long as you need.”

As Richie kissed him, sucking gently on his lower lip, Eddie slid his free hand into Richie’s hair, admiring the way his curls felt between his fingers. Then, experimentally, he lifted his legs a bit, pulling them toward himself. They both moaned at the movement, and Eddie felt Richie squeeze his hand. “Oh my god,” Eddie moaned. He grabbed Richie’s face and kissed him desperately, pleading into his lips, “Fuck, I’m ready, please, please fuck me.”

Richie grabbed him by the hair and held him down, lifting himself up with his other arm. “Yeah?” he said, voice breathy as he pulled his hips back. He looked amazing, dark curls wild as they hung around his face, his blue eyes dark and hungry behind his glasses, his lips slick and red from kissing Eddie. He squeezed Eddie’s hip hard and asked, “You wanna get fucked, sweetheart?”

“Please,” Eddie whined. He hooked his hands under his knees and pulled them up to his chest, spreading them nice and wide for Richie. He watched Richie’s eyes go dark and begged, “Please, need you to fuck me, daddy.”

Richie snapped his hips forward with a sharp, “Fuck,” making Eddie cry out. He pulled his hips back again, until just the tip of his cock was buried inside of Eddie. “Say that again.”

Eddie met Richie’s gaze with glassy eyes and whimpered, “Please, fuck me, daddy.”

Richie cursed again and thrust into Eddie, this time setting a more steady pace. “God, you feel so fucking good on my cock, baby.” Eddie moaned and rocked his hips, his hands falling to grip the sheets beneath him as Richie began fucking him faster, harder. “You look so good like this, so pretty when you’re moaning for my cock.” Eddie flushed; Richie’s words had precome pearling at the head of dick, dripping onto his stomach.

Richie’s thrusts were getting hard enough to rock Eddie’s body back and forth, moving him so easily as Richie fucked him. Eddie loved it, loved how effortlessly Richie could toss him around. He loved hearing Richie moan as he fucked him, loved knowing that Richie felt just as good as he did. He loved the idea of Richie using his body to get himself off. The thought had him letting out little high pitched moans with every thrust. The pleasure left his mind in a haze, and all he could concentrate on was how good Richie’s cock felt inside of him, all he could say was a desperate string of, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” broken up by wordless moans.

“Fuck, you take it so well, baby,” Richie praised, running his hand over Eddie’s chest. “So fucking good for me. You like getting fucked like this? You like being all spread out for daddy? Just lying back and taking it while daddy makes you feel good?”

“Yes!” Eddie cried. “Yes, yes, yes, daddy, oh my god, ‘s so good, fuck.”

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Richie marveled, leaning down to kiss Eddie. The new angle shifted Richie’s hips, and suddenly Eddie was seeing stars, every nerve in his body coming alive and fizzling like a sparkler. He cried out and clutched at Richie, nearly screaming from how amazing it felt.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his voice high and desperate. “Right there, yes, oh my fucking god, don’t stop, please, please, don’t stop.”

“Aw, sweetheart, does that feel good?” Eddie nodded frantically, his moans becoming shouts as Richie’s cock brushed against his prostate over and over, the pleasure so deep and all encompassing. He couldn’t think about anything else, all he knew was that amazing feeling, all he knew was he needed more. He wanted more and more and more, he could feel it building, was vaguely aware of the fact that he was digging his nails into Richie’s back hard enough to leave scratch marks.

“Daddy,” he slurred, “gonna c-come.”

“Fuck, baby,” Richie groaned. He spit generously into his hand and reached between them to stroke Eddie’s cock. Eddie’s back arched, pressing himself against Richie. The new contact had pleasure rushing through him, and with a few strokes of Richie’s hand on him and a nearly growled, “Come for daddy,” Eddie was coming undone. Pleasure exploded through him, wracked his body as he came all over himself, all over Richie’s hand, Richie fucking into him the whole time. Beyond the noise of his own moans and screams, he could hear Richie cursing under his breath, telling Eddie how good he was doing.

Eddie panted as he came down, blinking his eyes open slowly. Still buzzing, he watched as Richie carefully pulled out of him and rolled the condom off before leaning further over Eddie. He spit into his hand again and began stroking his own cock, a sight that made Eddie’s spent cock twitch in interest.

“Open your mouth, baby,” Richie moaned. Eddie happily complied, sticking his tongue out and closing his eyes. Moments later, Richie’s moans were filling the room, as was the slick sound of Richie stroking himself, and Eddie moaned, small and content as he felt Richie’s warm come painting his chest and cheeks and lips.

He blinked open his eyes once he heard Richie let out a heavy sigh. He looked amazing, sweaty curls clinging to his face, blue eyes hooded as he took in the sight of Eddie beneath him, covered in come. Eddie made sure to meet Richie’s gaze before he swallowed the come on his tongue, then licked more off of his lips. “Fuck, you’re a fucking angel,” Richie grinned. He swiped his fingers over Eddie’s chest, spreading his come over Eddie’s nipple before bringing it to his lips. Eddie hummed happily as he sucked on Richie’s fingers. He still felt like he was floating. Richie leaned down and kissed him, deep and lingering, before saying, “Let’s get you cleaned up, baby, okay?” When Eddie nodded, Richie climbed off the bed and headed for the bathroom. Eddie watched through the open door as Richie waited for the water to warm, then wet a washcloth under it before walking back over to the bed. Eddie preened as Richie cleaned him, pressing soft kisses all over his face as he gently ran the warm washcloth over Eddie’s cheeks and chest and stomach. “That was fucking amazing,” Richie said. Eddie hummed in agreement. He felt like he was glowing when he felt Richie smile against his skin. “You’re so beautiful, Eds. So fucking good for me.” As soon as Eddie was clean and the washcloth was tossed in the hamper, Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie and pulled him down against him, nuzzling into his neck.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured softly into Richie’s skin. They lay like that for a few minutes, just holding each other and pressing soft kisses against each other’s skin, until Eddie let out a small, “Richie?”

Richie sat up and met his eyes, sensing the shift in his tone. “Yeah?”

“What… what is this? Like what are we, I guess?” he asked, tracing patterns over Richie’s skin with his fingertips.

Richie smiled softly down at him and stroked his cheek. “Same thing it’s always been. Whatever you want.”

Eddie huffed. “What do you want?”

Richie bit his lip, his eyes flickering between Eddie’s. “I want you. All the time. I wanna take you on vacations and buy you gifts and flowers and dinner and watch movies with you. I wanna date you, Eds,” he said with a weak huff of a laugh. “I wanna give you the fucking world.”

Eddie grinned up at him and pulled him down for a kiss. “I wanna date you, too.”

After a few moments of chaste kisses, Richie murmured into his lips, “I also wanna fuck you in every position on every single surface I can think of.” Eddie rolled his eyes and smacked his shoulder, but he was giggling, and he couldn’t say he hadn’t been thinking the same thing.

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