#sending the first letter/package tomorrow!!

[candycandy00]

I’m Your Present! - A Togame x Reader Fanfic

Togame jokingly asks Santa for a cute girl he can play with all night long. He gets you. 

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. All characters are adults. Bondage. Use of toys (vibrators, handcuffs, blindfold, anal beads). Overstimulation. Praise kink.

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!

Part of CandyCandy’s Kinkmas 2024!

Totally ripped from the hentai Eromame. I basically just rewrote it with Togame lol. I recommend giving it a watch! It’s very cute! And required yearly Christmas viewing for me!

It was just a joke, really. Just the Bofurin guys fooling around at their annual reunion/Christmas party. For some reason they always invited the guys from Shishitoren, and Togame always showed up. He brought drinks and passed them out, laughing when someone stuck a pair of reindeer antlers on Sakura’s head. 

Togame can’t remember who came up with the idea first, but someone joked that they should write letters to Santa. Most of the guys were half drunk by that point, so they all agreed. Some of them proudly read theirs out loud while the others cheered. Some very quickly ripped theirs up or threw them away. Maybe they asked for something a little too personal to share with the group. 

As for Togame, he wadded his up and crammed it in the pocket of his jacket, thinking he’d toss it when he got home. 

Now, standing in the kitchen of his small apartment, he fishes the crumpled letter out and smoothes it back out. He chuckles to himself as he reads it. 

“Dear Santa, please send me a cute girl to play with all night.”

He wads it up again and drops it into the trash. What a dumb joke. 

But it was at least a little sincere. Togame hasn’t had a girlfriend since his first year of college, and lately he’s been feeling a little lonely, and a lot horny. 

It’s probably because Choji of all people got himself a girlfriend earlier this year. And in true Choji fashion, he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. He’s been bragging about all the sex he’s having with his hot girlfriend, and it’s only made Togame realize how much he misses being intimate with someone. 

It’s all he can think about the last few months, and he’s been jacking off like a teenager. 

He sighs as he takes off his jacket and gets ready to turn in for the night. It’s Christmas Eve, and he’ll be expected to visit his relatives tomorrow. 

Just as he starts to turn his lights off, he hears a thump on his balcony.

You squeeze past three people carrying loads of presents, your own arms full of brightly colored packages. You stack them in the pile next to the giant sleigh, there to be sorted and packed by other helpers. 

Someone calls your name, telling you to come to the office. You straighten your red, fur-trimmed dress and walk back into the main workshop. The office is a wide room in the back where the Wishlist Management team works. Three of them are behind a counter, reading over lists and letters while the rest are either sorting through last minute mail or relaying orders to the workshop. 

“Hello? Did you need me?” you ask, stepping into the room. 

The helper in the middle looks up from a crumpled piece of paper. “We have an unusual wish here. Would you be interested in granting it?”

“Me?” you ask, taking a seat across from the counter. You’re a standard helper, usually working on gift wrapping, sorting, or transporting. You don’t usually make gifts yourself, so actually granting wishes is a little out of your wheelhouse. 

The helper behind the counter looks a little embarrassed as he slides the piece of paper over to you. When you read it, you feel yourself blush. A cute girl to play with? You’re pretty sure he doesn’t mean board games. 

“Who wrote this?” you ask. Sometimes letters like this arrive from teenagers, and they’re always discarded. For the Management team to be taking it seriously means it has to be a sincere wish from an adult. 

The other helper slides a photo across the counter. “Togame Jo. Twenty-eight years old. Lives alone.”

You pick up the photo and look at this Togame fellow. To your surprise, he’s extremely good looking. In fact, he’s totally your type. Midnight black hair and kind emerald eyes. Wow. 

“Of course you’re free to say no,” the other helper says. “We can ask someone else if you’re uncomfortable with-“

“I’ll do it!” you say, cutting him off. 

He looks surprised. “Are you sure? You do know what he’s asking for, right?”

You nod. “I know. I’ll get some toys from the adult department and head on out. Thank you for bringing this wish to me!”

The other helper gives you an awkward smile and wave as you walk out the door. 

You’re not sure why, but you were instantly drawn to Togame when you saw his picture. It’s not just the lovely green eyes or the gentle smile. There’s something there, hidden just beneath his calm expression. A sadness, a loneliness, that touches your heart. You want to give him the best Christmas present ever.

When Togame pulls back the curtain from the glass door to his balcony, he’s not sure what to make of the scene before him. 

Outside, on his balcony, is a young woman sprawled out as if she’d fallen from the sky. 

He hurriedly opens the door and steps out into the cold, but before he can kneel down to check on her, the woman suddenly sits up. She rubs the back of her head and straightens her Santa hat, then looks up at him. 

“Oh, hello! You’re Togame Jo, right?”

Rendered momentarily speechless by this bizarre situation, Togame nods, then extends his hand to her and helps her to her feet. 

“Come inside,” he tells her, unsure of what else to say. It’s too cold to be standing around out here, especially in that short dress she’s wearing. 

Once inside his apartment, he gets a good look at her. She’s very pretty, with a cute Santa girl dress on. It’s candy apple red with white fur trim. There’s a cloth sack hanging from one arm. She’s looking at him with bright eyes and a smile. 

“How did you end up on my balcony?” he asks, shutting the glass door and closing the curtains. 

“The express sleigh dropped me off. I think they misjudged the distance a bit though,” she replies, still smiling. 

“Express sleigh?” The words make no sense to him. She doesn’t seem drunk. Is this some kind of Christmas prank? Before she can elaborate, he asks another question. “Who are you?”

“I’m your Christmas present!” she declares, doing a little curtsy. When Togame simply stares at her with a confused expression, she stands up straight and says, “You did ask for me, right? Someone to play with all night? We got your letter.”

Togame’s stunned face reddens. How did this woman he’s never met before know about his joke of a letter to Santa?! “I didn’t mail any letter,” he says, feeling a bit dazed at this point. He never even showed it to anyone.  

“Oh, that’s okay! Letters with sincere wishes make it to us even without being mailed,” she says cheerily. 

Togame picks up on something. “Us? Who do you work for?”

She giggles. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m one of Santa’s helpers!”

Wait. Is she saying Santa is real? And they somehow received his pervy letter?! And answered it?!

“Uh, that was just a joke,” he says, mortified that anyone saw the letter. 

“Really?” she asks. Why does she sound disappointed? She holds open her sack. “What a shame. I brought all these toys for us to play with.”

Togame can’t resist peeking inside. The sack is full of sex toys! Just at a glance he can see furry red handcuffs, candy cane striped dildos, and what appears to be vibrators. He feels heat creeping into his face as he looks back at her. 

“You’re really my present from Santa?” he asks. 

She smiles so sweetly at him. “Yes! And since you specified ‘all night long’, you have me until dawn. During that time, I’m yours to do whatever you want with!”

Togame swallows. “Whatever I want?”

“Yes!” she says enthusiastically. “So do you want your present?”

The man standing before you seems hesitant. He probably didn’t expect his wish to be granted. 

Togame is even better looking in person. He’s so tall! You really hope he still wants his present. You’ve been excited since you saw his picture, and now you’re practically dripping just from thinking about the things he could do to you.  

He scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “Are you sure about this?”

You nod emphatically. “Of course!”

He still seems a little unsure. It’s kind of endearing. But eventually he gives you a warm smile and says, “Let’s go to the bedroom then.”

Once there, you spread out the toys from your bag on his desk. He looks them over, glancing back at you every few seconds. 

“I can use anything I want?” he asks, picking up a huge dildo and sitting it back down. 

“That’s right,” you tell him, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your eyes gravitate to the small red bullet vibrators. This night is for him, not you. 

“Any preferences?” he asks, looking you in the eyes.  

You blush a little from the heat of his gaze, but shake your head. “I like all of them!”

He picks up the padded handcuffs with red fur trim. “Even these?”

You hold your wrists together. “Just tell me if you want them in front or behind.”

He seems to think for a moment, then says, “Behind.”

You turn around and hold your arms behind your back. You hear his soft footsteps as he approaches, feel the warmth of his body as he stands right behind you. Then, there’s the touch of his hands as he gently secures the cuffs on your wrists. 

When you turn back around to face him, his cheeks are slightly pink as he looks at you. With your arms pulled back, your tits are jutting out more prominently, your dress struggling to stay up and over them. 

He puts his hands on your shoulders, then slowly slides them down, pulling the straps of your dress down with them. Your breasts bounce free as the fabric slides down beneath them. Togame’s eyes widen slightly. He moves one hand up to cup your breast, then lightly squeezes. His thumb circles one nipple as his other hand gropes the other breast. 

You suck in a breath of air as he leans down and kisses your neck, his lips making a soft, wet trail down your collar bone and finally wrapping around a nipple, suckling lightly. 

He looks back to your face, seeing how flushed you’re getting, and ushers you over to the bed. He sits down on the edge of it and unbuttons his pants. 

“Can you get on your knees for me?” he asks, his tone still polite. 

You’re happy to oblige, dropping to your knees right in front of him, staring at his hands as they pull out a deliciously meaty cock. You lick your lips in anticipation, the handcuffs being the only thing stopping you from gripping his shaft immediately. You look up at him with your sweetest expression. 

“What do you want me to do, Jo?”

He blinks at the sudden use of his given name, perhaps a little flustered by how intimate you’re getting. But he recovers quickly, smiling down at you as he says, “Suck my cock, little Miss Santa.”

You don’t waste any time. You lean your face forward and begin licking the hard, thick organ, from base to tip. You make sure to get it nice and wet, coating it in spit before taking the entire thing into your mouth, letting it fill your throat. 

Togame shudders and grips your hair, his cock twitching in your mouth. Maybe he didn’t expect you to take him so far so quickly. 

For a moment, you pause, just letting him feel your throat constricting around him, your tongue massaging the underside of his dick. But eventually you have to breathe, so you pull back just to get some air, only to plunge him right back in. This time you wrap your lips around his base and bob your head, sucking and licking as you go. 

Togame groans, his fingers threading through your hair, holding you firmly in place. You couldn’t pull back enough to let his cock slip out of your mouth if you wanted to. But why would you ever want that? He’s positively tasty, and throbbing so nicely. Such delectable precum is leaking from his tip, sliding down your throat. 

When he reaches his limit, he pulls your head back, and you open your mouth wide, letting the tip of his pulsing cock rest on your extended tongue. As he cums, his entire hot sticky load lands on your tongue and in your mouth, filling it full. 

After savoring it for a moment, you swallow it all, then lick your lips clean. Togame stares for several seconds, his face a little red. You know what you want from him, but you won’t ask directly. Instead, you look up through your lashes and ask, “Did I do good?”

He takes the hint, patting your head and saying, “Yeah, you did really good. Such a good girl for me.”

The words leave you dripping. You squirm on your knees, rubbing your thighs together. Your hands are still behind your back, your dress still pulled down to nearly your waist. 

Togame stands up and goes to the desk to get something else to play with. When he returns, he helps you to your feet and then stands behind you. He reaches around and ties a deep red blindfold around your head, blocking out your vision. You draw in a sharp breath. This is getting exciting!

He guides you back to the bed, and you hear the mattress squeak as he sits down again. Then he turns you around to face away from him and pulls you into his lap. 

You listen carefully, trying to figure out what he’s going to do next. The mystery is making you nervous in the best way possible. You hear only faint sounds you can’t identify, then you feel something smooth and firm touch each of your nipples. Is this…?

A clicking sound, and then one that’s very familiar to you, one you’ve been hoping to hear. The soft hum of the small bullet vibrators! At the same moment, you feel them vibrating against your tender skin, making you automatically jerk on the cuffs. Togame must be holding them to your tits. 

You’re making little breathy sounds, not quite moans but close, leaning back against his hard chest, feeling the cozy fabric of his shirt on your bare back. He’s so warm. 

One vibrator leaves your breast, and you feel him sliding the bottom of your dress up your thighs and above your hips. Thankfully you came prepared and wore no panties tonight. 

He pulls one leg away from the other, and you move the other leg, eagerly spreading for him. Then you feel his fingers on you, stroking your pussy, slipping between the folds to smear your wetness around. 

“You’re soaked already,” he says into your ear. The feeling of his breath so close causes goosebumps to form on your neck. 

“I have been since I got here,” you say back, your voice shaky as his finger circles your clit but doesn’t touch it. 

“Really?” he asks. “Do you grant a lot of wishes like this?”

“This is my first one,” you answer. 

His voice is like a purr. “What kind of work do you usually do?”

His finger is so close to hitting the jackpot. You squirm a bit in his lap. “Ahh… I usually… wrap presents… and sort them…”

You hear him chuckle under his breath. “So why did you decide to do this?”

“Th-they showed me your picture… and you looked sad. I just wanted to give you a merry Christmas!”

There’s a pause, where he stops moving for a moment, then you hear his voice again: “I want to give you a merry Christmas too.”

Immediately after, you feel the vibrator pressed against your clit, pulsing wildly at maximum power. You cry out, your body jerking with the sudden explosive pleasure. 

You cum instantly, trembling in his arms, but he’s still holding the vibrator to your extremely sensitive clit. With your hands cuffed behind you and the blindfold on, it makes your sense of touch so much stronger, and you feel truly helpless in a way that thrills you. 

“Ahh! T-too much!” you whine, reflexively trying to scoot back. But the vibrator is relentless, and Togame’s grip on you is firm. 

“You’re so cute when you cum,” he says, his voice dripping honey. “Show me again.”

The words make your already overstimulated clit throb, and only a few minutes later, you’re cumming again. Your entire body is shaking as you moan, your hands pulling at the cuffs. 

“There you go, being so good,” he murmurs, finally pulling the vibrator away and wrapping his arms around you. He holds you tight until your body stops trembling, then eases you off his lap. He unties the blindfold and lets it slip from your face, but he leaves the cuffs on. 

You look up at him. “What toy are we trying next?”

He walks over to the desk and looks over the items, then holds up a long anal bead stick. The beads are in alternating colors, red and green, and made of silicone. “This looks fun,” he says. 

You climb onto the bed, carefully since your hands are behind you, and look at him over your shoulder. “Come play with me,” you say, wiggling your ass. Your dress is just a piece of wadded fabric around your waist at this point, leaving most of your body exposed. 

Togame steps over and gets onto the bed behind you, pushing your top half forward until your face is pressing into the pillow, your ass in the air. He nudges your knees apart, and you feel him drip lube over your ass, rubbing it in and spreading it over both your holes. You hear him squeezing more out, probably onto the beaded stick, and then you feel the tip of the stick pressing against your little puckered hole. 

When the first bead slides in, you gasp. You’ve never tried this toy before, but you’ve always wanted to. The second bead slides in, then the third. There’s no pain, but the sensation is strange. Two more beads go in, and your breaths are coming faster, your heart racing.

Togame watches his adorable Santa girl twitch and quiver as he pushes more beads into her, causing her dripping pussy to clench and flutter. He’s waited as long as he can. He needs to be buried in this pretty little cunt right now. 

He positions himself at her entrance, rubbing the tip along her slit to let her know what’s coming. Her hands, cuffed behind her, are balled into fists. When ready, he pushes in, going all the way to the hilt and hearing her gasp. She’s so unbelievably tight, he almost gasps too. Maybe it’s because of the beads, but she’s clamping down on him so well he can hardly stand it. 

When he starts thrusting, she makes the sweetest sounds, little cries and moans that dance into his ears, occasionally whimpering his name. 

“Taking me so well,” he says, his hands gripping her hips to keep her in place as he plunges in and out. “Good, good girl.”

She feels so fucking good around him, so soft and warm and pliable. And she’s taking him so deep with no complaints. It’s like she was made for him. 

He reaches down and grips the handle of the bead stick, then begins pulling it out by a few beads before pushing it back in. Her pussy clenches, as if it’s trying to hold onto his dick forever. 

All at once, he pulls the whole stick out in one go. She cries out, her back arching and her mouth hanging open. He thinks she just came again, and it’s making her squeeze him impossibly hard. 

He can’t hold back any longer. This pussy is just too good. With a groan, he cums, shooting everything he has into the deepest parts of her. When he eventually pulls out, gobs of his cum leak out of her, making a lurid sight to see. 

They both pant for a few moments, then he uncuffs her hands and helps her turn over.  

She’s gazing up at him with her big, pretty eyes. “What do you want to play with next?”

She looks exhausted, spent, but she’s still willing to keep going. He’d specified “all night” after all. 

“Let’s take a quick break,” he says. 

They sit beside each other on the bed, and he asks the question that’s been burning in his brain for a while now. 

“After tonight is over, will I ever see you again?”

She looks up at him. “You can if you wish for it!” She seems happy he asked. 

He smiles. “Maybe next year I’ll wish for a wife.”

She flushes, looking away to hide her embarrassment. “That sounds lovely,” she says. 

He wraps one arm around her. “You’ve made this the best Christmas of my life.”

She snuggles closer. “And you’ve done the same for me.”

The two of them sit there a little while, just enjoying each other’s presence, before going back to enjoying each other’s presents.

Tag List:

@coldluminarykoala @atomicweaselpaperapricot @chocoyanchan @calculust-prime

[spiderwcd]

Stalked | s.g. 

pairing: Sam Golbach x influencer ! f ! reader 

summary: They knew something was off, but they never imagined it to be this bad.

Warning(s): angst! stalkers, breaking in, fear, profanity, mentions of a weapon

A/N: honestly first time writing angst, so forgive me if it's really bad, ALSO, please read the last note, I need your guys opinion on something.

images from pinterest ! 

Sam loved y/n, so much so that Sam let her finally move in. Well rather, they made it official. She had practically lived with Sam for a year now, always sleeping over and leaving all her things around his house. 

It was great, she loved waking up to Sam every morning and making him breakfast. She adored how he'd show up for some of her streams and talk to her fans. Sam was the love of her life, there's no doubt behind that. 

But recently something was off. 

It started off with a few overly creepy dm's, saying perverted things to her. She would block them but they seemed to never go away, assuming as they made multiple accounts to send the horrid messages. 

But then she felt like she was being watched, going out in public became sketchy for her. She noticed a hooded man in the coffee shop she frequented or around the corner in the supermarket. 

Then, it was getting really out of hand. She would receive random packages from fans all the time, opening them on her live stream and laughing at gag gifts. But it was odd to receive gifts on her front porch, when she regularly received gifts via a P.O. Box. She had opened one, regretting it to this day. 

In the box were various pictures of her around town, heart shapes surrounding her face. On top was a letter, long story short, she realized it was a stalker. 

Sam and y/n tried to figure out a way to put a restraining order, but couldn't due to the fact that they didn't know this said man's identity. 

Unfortunately, enough was enough. All she could do was go on another live stream tonight, explaining reasons why she wouldn't be streaming anymore. She propped up the camera, Sam in the back for moral support. 

"Are you ready?" She weakly smiled. 

Sam nodded, reaching for her hand as she sat back down as many fans joined in. 

She tried to put on her bubbly personality, attempting to welcome many of the fans. 

"Hey guys," she waved to the camera. "How are you guys?" She asked, placing her other hand on her chin as she looked at the various comments. 

Her fans knew her all too well, quickly recognizing that something was wrong. 

'oh no, y/n you okay? you look sad :(' 

'woah, mom and dad look so serious!? Are we in trouble?!' 

Y/n smiled at the concern, "yeah, guys you have all been bad," she sternly pointed to the camera. "Right sam? We gotta take away their Xboxes." She turned over to Sam, causing him to chuckle. 

"Yeah guys, who shit in the kitty litter? The cat's shit is not that big!" He joked trying to lighten up the mood. 

Y/n smiled, squeezing Sam's hand a little stronger as she looked back at the camera.

"Alright guys, Imma wait a little longer for more people to get in just so they don't miss anything." She announced, continuing to read the comments. 

'mother is mothering' 

'y/n, ask sam when the next video is coming out?!' 

'y/n is so pretty guys :)' 

She turned to Sam, "they're asking about your next video, babe." She pointed out. "I don't know, I've been put under a contract not to discuss any future videos guys." She put her hands up in defeat. 

Sam grinned at her before looking up at the camera, "Well, Colby will kill me for saying anything, but we're working on something to record tomorrow actually." He raised his brows, pursing his lips a bit. 

"You heard it here folks, Sam is not retiring." She joked. 

As they were goofing off and joking around, the viewer count went up to nearly 50k. She was impressed by the amount, amazed by her followers. 

"Wow guys, there's 50 thousand of you here!" She cheered, raising her hands up into the air. "So now that we have a lot of your attention, don't get too distracted by this beautiful face." She pointed towards Sam. 

Sam dramatically covered his face, pretending to be flustered. "Oh, stop it guys!" He responded with a high pitched voice. 

Y/n playfully smacked his thigh as she giggled, "Well, so this is sorta sad news guys," she began, trying not to look at the comments. "But this will be my last stream for a little bit, just there's been stuff that came up and it's no longer safe for me to stream. I would go more in depth but again, for our safety I can't really say why." 

She held back tears as she glanced over to her comments, fans practically panicking. 

'what?! noooo :(' 

'omg what happened?!' 

'nauuur! I look forward to your streams :,('

Y/n gulped, holding back tears as she read the comments. "Yeah guys, it's only temporary," she sighed, Sam holding her hand as he laced his fingers with hers. "But it's just to ensure safety for me and my loved ones, it's only until this problem goes away guys. I just gotta say, I love you guys, you guys give me purpose and I'm so thankful for that, so I hope you guys understand."

She weakly smiled, reading the many comments of support and touched by their kindness. 

"Well with that guys, I'm just gonna end it here," she sighed, leaning towards her computer. "See you guys, hopefully soon." She blew a kiss into the camera before cutting the stream off. 

She let out a sigh as she sat back down in her chair, a creak emitting from it. Y/n looked over to Sam, who offered her a smile as he rubbed his free hand on top of hers. 

"You okay?" he asked her, furrowing his brows as worry coated his voice. 

She nodded weakly, "I will be," she replied. "I just hate to stop streaming, I really want this stupid stalker to like chill the fuck out." She groaned as she rubbed her face. 

"I'm sure it won't be long," Sam tried to comfort her. "I mean he hasn't been around for a while." Sam shrugged. 

Y/n couldn't help but stare off into the ceiling, taking Sam's words sink in, "That's true," she mumbled. "I've had stalkers before, but they were never this bad." She emphasized. 

Sam understood her frustration, he knew streaming was everything to her. She worked hard to please her fans, streaming every other night practically. He loved that about her, how caring she was and worked for her fans even when days weren't as good to her. 

"Well let's get some sleep, okay?" Sam patted her thigh, standing up from his seat. 

Y/n groaned, throwing her head back, "This feels so weird," She grumbled, mimicking Sam's movements and walking towards their bedroom. "Are you still going to that haunted hospital or whatever?" She asked him, removing her sweatpants and sweatshirt. 

"Yeah, but I can always stay here with you if you want," Sam answered, watching her movements. "I can always reschedule it." He offered. 

Y/n threw on one of Sam's t-shirts, jumping into bed next to him, "No, no, I'll be okay," She declined, stabilizing her head onto her hand. "I don't want you to disappoint your fans, plus the cameras you installed really give me a lot more comfort." She smiled, her heart warmed by his gesture. 

"Are you sure? I-I just don't know how I feel about leaving you here all alone." Sam sighed, pulling her close to his chest. 

"Yes, I'm sure sam." She laughed a bit, laying her head onto his chest. She listened to his heart beat against her ear, she breathed in deeply before looking up at sam. "I love you, you know that?" She whispered to him. 

Sam smiled down at her, placing his finger under her chin as he pulled her into a kiss. "I love you more." He whispered back, pecking her on her forehead. 

The next day, she watched as Sam packed various equipment into his bags. But he wouldn't stop pestering her about his offer, her refusing it every time. 

"Okay, baby I will call you when I land, i'll check the cameras often, oh, and update me every like hour," Sam commanded, his suitcase in hand as his backpack strapped to his back. "I don't care if you think it's annoying, I just need to make sure you're okay." 

Y/n laughed at his demands, kissing him on the cheek, "I promise, but youre gonna have to worry about Colby in about two seconds cause it looks like he's gonna drag you away." She joked, pointing at Colby in the car. 

Sam sighed, "He’ll be fine," He rolled his eyes playfully. "Okay, I love you like a million, please be careful, okay? Lock all the doors and keep the windows locked, I'll call Celina or someone to come and keep you company." He suggested, landing a quick peck on her lips. 

"Alright, love you too," She chuckled, embracing him into a long hug. "Okay, okay, now you have a safe trip okay? And make sure Colby brings you back in one piece." She joked. 

She watched as Sam ran towards the car, looking back every few steps as he blew her kisses. She noticed Colby rolling his eyes, impatient as is. 

Y/n sighed as she locked the door, making her way to the living room. She dropped down onto the couch as she exhaled a breath. She looked down on her phone, deciding to check up on her socials. 

She was surprised by the sheer amount of support she received, fans encouraging her. She smiled at the many comments, her smile soon fading away as she looked at the random drama article of hers. 

Streamer Y/N L/N, goes on break cause of STALKER?! 

She rolled her eyes, of course they're trying to profit on her vulnerability. She threw her phone down onto the pillows, standing up onto her feet as she made her way towards the kitchen. She figured she could distract herself and make something to eat. Usually when she was bored she would stream, but for obvious reasons she couldn't cure her boredom at that moment. 

After she had made some dinner, she turned on one of her favorite shows. She decided a few episodes wouldn't hurt to catch up on, resting her head onto a few pillows as stared at the screen. 

A season and a half in, she heard her phone ding. She picked it up, letting the phone turn on and the message displayed on her screen. 

sam: 

just landed! How are things over there?

Y/n started typing out her answer, trying not to make it sound depressing as it felt. 

y/n:

great, i'm just watching some of my shows right now :)

It didn't take long for the phone to ding again, Sam's response delivered onto her phone screen yet again. 

sam:

sounds good

Do you want some company? I could send Jake or even Celina over

y/n:

I think i'll be okay for now

I prolly will be up for a while anyway so i'll let you know

sam:

okay, be safe babe 

I love you 300 million tons baby!!!

Y/n smiled at the text, seeming to miss her boyfriend even more now. 

y/n:

well I love you 300.01 million tons!

She shut off her phone, tossing it back to where it last was. She blankly stared into the TV screen as she tried to focus on the show. Her eyes began to grow heavy, slowly beginning to grow more tired. 

It didn't take long before she found herself sleeping on the couch, the random show adding as a background noise.

She awoke from her sleep, hearing her phone buzzing next to her. She fluttered her eyes, looking outside at the now dark night that had overtaken the evening sun as she slept. 

She groaned as she picked up her phone, Sam's name displaying on her screen with his photo on it. She mentally cursed herself for falling asleep, forgetting to update Sam. Y/n slid the answer button, bringing the phone up to her ear. 

"Hey, sorry I fell asl-." But before she could answer, Sam cut her off with panic in his voice. 

"Babe, Babe?! Are you okay?" Sam frantically asked. "Where are you right now?" He added, panic rising in his voice. 

Y/n furrowed her brows, confused on why he had begun panicking over not updating him on her whereabouts. 

"I'm just home, in the living room right now." She sighed, rubbing her eyes out of her tired state. 

"Okay, okay, please tell me you locked all the doors and windows," Sam sternly replied. 

Y/n stood up, noticing the TV had still been blaring. "Yeah, I locked the front door when you left and the backdoor had been locked, what's going on sam, you're really freaking me out." She grumbled. 

"Y/n, please listen to me very carefully," Sam began, shaking in his voice. She heard him talk to another person in the back, something about a ride to the airport. "Go to our bathroom, and lock the door, please baby." He panted, hearing a car door shut in the background as he began to run. 

Y/n just was more confused, but complied with his instructions. She began walking towards their bedroom, but froze when she heard a sound from downstairs. The sound of glass shattering echoed from the home. 

She sprinted towards the bedroom, locking the door and entering the bathroom connected to it. She swiftly locked the bathroom door, backing away as she tried to cover her heavy breathing. 

She forgot she was on a call with Sam, faintly hearing his loud shouts for her. She brought the phone back to her ear, barely stabilized in her shaking hand. 

"Y/n!? y/n!? What happened?! Y/n, please answer me!" Sam shouted, calling out for her. "Was that glass breaking?!" He called out. 

"Y-Yeah, I just heard someone fucking break a window or something downstairs," Y/n whispered into the phone. "Sam, I-I'm scared." Her voice cracked as tears began to spill onto her cheeks. 

Sam cursed a bit in the background, "Fuck, it’s gonna be okay baby, I promise." His voice shook, distressed as he felt hopeless in this situation. "Colby called the police so they should be over there any moment, just stay there and don't make a sound, okay?" He informed her. 

Before y/n could respond, she heard faint heavy footsteps make their way up towards the stairs. It seemed as if he had stopped at the end of the staircase, in front of the living room.

"Sam, I-I think he's upstairs," Y/n sobbed softly. "I’m so fucking scared, Sam." She whimpered out.

Sam cursed yet again on the other side, clearly frustrated and worried. "It's gonna be okay, Colby's still on the line with the cops, they said 5 more minutes, okay? Just don't say anything, it's g-gonna be okay." She heard Sam's frustrated sniffs as his voice cracked. 

Slowly, the footsteps became louder. They thudded with each step, slowly making their way towards the locked bedroom. Y/n felt hot tears stream down her hot cheeks, her heart pumping as if she ran a marathon. 

But then the footsteps stopped at the door to the bedroom. She listened carefully, her ears perking up to every sound. 5 minutes will feel like eternity. She listened as the door handle started jiggling to their bedroom, with a frustrated man's voice as he kicked the door once, then twice and with a loud crack as it swung and hit the wall.

She let out a scared squeal, Sam still shouting for her on the other side. She didn't dare to move, still intently listening as the man rustled around the room, trying to find something or someone. 

She could practically feel her heart beating out of her chest, feeling nothing but pure fear as the man began stepping closer to the bathroom door. 

Y/n found it odd when the man knocked. She didn't answer, letting yet another tear slip out of her eye. But she found it even more odd that he slipped a piece of paper under the door, seemingly blank. 

Y/n prayed that the police would arrive any moment, rescue her from this nightmare. But mostly wanting Sam to be there for her, to protect her. 

She shut her eyes, bringing the phone to her ear again. Sam kept calling out for her, freaking out. "Sam, If something happens, I-I love y-you okay?" She sniffed softly as she whispered softly into the phone. 

"Y/n, don't say that! You're gonna make it just a little long-" as Sam was about to finish his sentence, the door cracked just like the one in the bedroom. 

She jumped, tears spilling as she let out a sob. Just as quickly as he opened the bedroom door, the door ricocheted against the wall. She felt herself shake like a leaf as her back pressed up against the bathtub, watching intently as everything moved very slowly. 

The background noise of Sam's voice and everything else drowned as she heard her heart beating, eyes glued to the broken door. The man slowly stepped closer inside the bathroom, turning his head very menacingly.

The masked man creeped into the bathroom, the glimmer of a blade in his hand. She let out a sob as she turned her head away, shutting her eyes shut as she prayed it was a nightmare she woke awake from.

She could practically feel his breath on her face, now kneeling in front of her. His hand at first moved to her face, tracing his fingers on her wet skin but then moving his attention to the phone clutched in her hand. He scoffed as he snatched the phone out of her hand, bringing it to his ear. 

"Y/n? Y/n?! answer me, please." Sam begged on the other line. 

"She's unavailable at the moment." The man's deep voice rang out in the bathroom. 

"Dont you dare fucking touch her," Sam spat through the phone, gripping onto his phone with anger. "I swear to God, I will fucking kill you." He growled. 

The man chuckled a bit, amused by his threats, "Well, I don't see you anywhere." He laughed. 

Before Sam could give an answer, the man hung up the phone and set it down onto the counter. He turned back ever so slowly to her, staring down at the floor to avoid eye contact with her stalker. 

He kneeled back down, looking at her as she cried. 

"You're much prettier than I expected," He laughed, running his finger on a strand of her hair. "Don't be scared, only brought this if your little boyfriend would get in the way." He smirked under his mask, tilting the knife. 

As y/n froze up, tensing under his touch, she heard the loud sirens pulling closer to her house. The red and blue lights filling up the room, causing the man to jolt up and look at her one last time. 

"This isn't over." He mumbled, running out of the bathroom. 

With him gone, she let out a sob as it rang throughout her body. She covered her face, trying to calm down and reassure herself it was all over. 

Y/n heard the shouts of a police officer, warning the man to get down. She heard frantic footsteps run down the hall, afraid it was the man again. 

But instead it was a female officer, her gun drawn out and a flashlight shining onto y/n's face. She lowered her weapon, turning to her shoulder as she spoke through the walkie. 

"Are you y/n?" She kneeled down to her level. 

Y/n nodded, "Y-Yes." she let out.

The officer reached for her hand, helping her up. Y/n's legs shook as she stumbled forward slightly, apologizing as she straightened herself up. 

"It's okay, you have no need to apologize." She reassured, beginning to walk her out of the bathroom. 

"T-That paper, he slid it under the door when I was locked in h-here." She pointed with trembling hands. 

The officer nodded, kneeling as she lifted the paper. Y/n couldn't help but peek at the paper, curiosity eating at her. 

From what it looked like, it was a love note as he declared his love for her. The officer's face retorted into a one with disgust, hiding it quickly from y/n. 

"This will be put into evidence, my other officer will take you down to question you," She informed y/n, letting one of the other officers grab her arm and lead her down the hall. 

Y/n's eyes wandered to the broken bits of wood that was flown across the room, their bedroom in complete disarray. She noticed that the same knife he had carried was now lodged into the broken door that hung loosely on the hinges, on the door was a picture of her and sam. Sam's face was scribbled on, with a few profanities scratched around. 

Y/n felt sick to her stomach, unable to hold back tears as she trembled down the hall. The street was filled with cop cars, neighbors coming out to investigate the commotion. She spaced out, deep into thought as the police officer's informed her about the break in. 

Y/n simply nodded, still in shock. Then she noticed a figure run up to her, Sam. She felt tears spilling out again and a wave of relief washed over her as she watched him sprint towards her, hugging her as he panted and sobbed into her hair. 

"Thank fucking god," Sam cried, rubbing her hair as she trembled in his arms. "I'm so sorry, this is all my fault. I should've never left you alone." He cried, stroking her hair as he comforted her. 

She peaked over his shoulder, the flashes of blue and red covered the streets. She watched as the officers handcuffed the now revealed man as his mask had been removed, pushing him into the back of the cop car. Y/n quickly looked away, determined not to be afraid of him any longer. As long as she had Sam, she was safe. 

She didn't say anything, soaking his sweatshirt with her tears. He didn't let go of her, talking to the police as they interrogated him to find the story.

"Hey, can we do this another time?" Sam snapped, holding y/n as she rested her head onto his chest. "I would love to answer your questions, but she's been through a lot and I need her to rest." He sighed, stroking her hair softly. 

The officer understood, handing him a card. They thanked them for their time, getting into the car as they sped away. Y/n sniffled, gripped onto Sam's arms tightly, as if he would leave again. 

"You guys can stay at my place for the meantime," Colby offered. "I know your house is sort of a crime scene right now, and your doors are completely wrecked. I have the space." He added. 

Sam nodded, thanking his best friend. Y/n hasn't said anything to Sam, still traumatized from her experience. She sat silent in the car, holding onto Sam's hand tightly as they drove. Sam couldn’t help but glance at her, guilt building up inside him. 

When they had finally reached Colby's house, Sam followed y/n around. He was so afraid to leave her side again, y/n was comforted by his presence but she knew he had blamed himself for it. 

Y/n laid on the bed, glancing at her phone as she looked at the many articles about her. She frowned at the media article, turning off her phone when she noticed Sam enter the room. Sam jumped into the bed, letting out a deep breath as he stared up for a moment. 

"It's not your fault sam," Y/n began, causing Sam to avert his gaze to her. "If anything, I'm glad you weren't there, you didn't see what I saw." She added, looking over to him. 

"Y/n-" Sam started, but was ultimately cut off by y/n.

"No Sam, don't blame yourself, I told you to go," her voice cracked, fighting back tears that threatened to spill. "He would've hurt you, o-or killed you." She let out a sob. 

Sam didn't say anything, pulling her into his chest as she let out tears. He whispered to her that everything's gonna be okay, kissing her head as he petted her hair.

"T-There wasn't much you could do, Sam," She whispered, sniffing. "He came there to hurt you, you did the right thing to call the cops." She commented, looking up at her boyfriend. 

Sam half smiled down at her, "I know, just I wish I was there to protect you, I'm sorry." He mumbled, sniffing back tears. 

She smiled, placing her palm onto his face. "It's okay Sam, I'm okay," She reassured. "I have you around me to protect me now." She shushed softly. 

Sam nodded, reaching for her hand off his face. "It's all over," He sighed. "That's all that matters, you're safe." 

Sam wrapped his arms around her, her head pressed against his chest as she listened to his heart beat gently against her ear. It didn't take long for her to finally rest, his scent and gentle heartbeat to soothe her to sleep. 

"I'm never leaving you ever again." Sam whispered to her, kissing her head. 

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

hey guys, thanks for reading!

so now for my question, I want to know if you guys would like smut from me. I have a few works saved, but I'm so nervous that you guys wouldn't like it so please please PLEASE let me know if its something you'd like :)

thanks for your attention!

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

thank you for writing the blurb i requested - the pining, their history, their friendship was perfect!!! and the phone calls and letters and care packages - they've been caring and supporting each other so attentively from day 1 😭 this made my day 🤎 roll for initiative has become such a comfort series for me 🥺 (i don't want to be greedy, but if you are open to more requests, could we please get a time skip in their relationship during the season. I'm so curious to see what the dynamics would be like and what challenges would present itself in their relationship/in life. also reader coming to games? what was the reaction to the hard launch? i have so many questions!) THANK YOU 🤎

Season Lightning: A 'Roll for Initiative' Blurb

Series Masterlist

Complete Masterlist

The house is eerily quiet. A phenomenon that only adds to your concern considering Joe wasn’t there at the door of the garage to greet you. It’s routine now for Joe to either be at your car door or at the garage door with Storm in arms to greet you. It’s quite possible that Joe might’ve fallen asleep after practice or maybe lost track of time in his office. Both of which have happened a time or two now that the season’s start is dawning. But today, only Storm greets you. His one succinct meow that he loves to deliver in greeting is the only other noise before the purrs start. 

You’re careful though should Joe be downstairs asleep as you venture into the kitchen to drop off your lunch bag. But before you make it fully into the kitchen, you spot a piece of paper and pen. Notes aren’t new between you and Joe. Sometimes you liked to leave sticky notes for him to find in random places. Sometimes Joe returned with his own to the bathroom mirror before he left for practice. Occasionally he’ll ask for a list of ingredients for a craving he’s having. Though that was becoming less frequent as he started to memorize them more. 

But this note looks hurriedly scratched, like Joe rushed to get it down. The pen’s still uncapped, having rolled a couple inches from the pages before it stopped. Like it was thrown down with little care about where it landed. Definitely rushed. You drop your bag near the sink and then slither back to the island. Hi baby, practice was a little rough today. I’m upstairs in my office. I might be short. Please grab me when you get home though. 

The pre-season games went well all things considered. There were a few kinks to work out in the rookies, but that’s to be expected. The Bengals managed to draft well, but there’d be a few moments as to be expected that were a little bumpy along the way. This weekend, this Sunday is the first Bengals game of the regular season. Joe would be flying out tomorrow for it. But for Joe to isolate makes you assume practice was bad bad. 

The lunch tin and utensils are easy enough to clean and place in the drying rack—a task you know Joe might pout about later seeing as he usually does it for you. You slip your keys back into the dish and ease your way up the steps. You shouldn’t be scared about making too much noise. This was your home too now. But still you’re careful as you work your way up, slightly annoyed at the swish of your scrubs as you walk down the hall. There’s a learning curve you’re on now with Joe, a piece of him that you haven’t experienced yet. Mistakes are bound to happen, but you’re still careful.

Storm’s tags are a soft twinkle next to you until you pause at the office door. In college, you’d send a good luck text, that you’d be in the crowd watching. His replies always came hours to sometimes days later thanking you for them. When he went off to LSU, more of the same followed. Less of you in the crowd but still good luck text all the same.

You’re in uncharted territory now with Joe. You can tell by the games you’ve watched that things get intense. But you don’t know how short, short might be for Joe. It’s a relief to have him let you know ahead of time, so you don’t take things personal. You knock all the same and wait. Where you might peak your head through, grinning to let Joe know it’s you, this feels distinctly different. 

The door creaks open. His hair is messy, spiked in various directions probably from the numerous times his hands have run through it. His mouth is a hard line on his face for only a moment until his eyes focus on you. The line softens, just a hair, as he smiles. “Hi, baby.” 

“Hi, hon.” The two of you stand on opposite sides of the threshold. There’s no other sign that things are bad. Just the pinch of his brow, just the mess of his hair. He’s changed, probably from his shower after practice. God, you want to hug him. Want to squeeze whatever anxiety or frustrations he might have out of him. But you don’t know if he even wants that.

Until he’s threading himself around you, face buried into your neck, arms winding in and around your arms and waist. “Hi,” he whispers again, more relieved this time. You can feel him melting into you, giving and giving with each second that passes in the hug. 

You squeeze back, running a hand over his spine. “I’m sorry practice was rough.” 

“Me too.” He doesn’t offer more. 

And though you are curious, you don’t ask for more. Instead, you let Joe melt into you. “Did you eat yet?”

“No. Was waiting for you.” Joe is slow to peel away, to bring himself back to his full stature but when he does he looks more relaxed than he did when he opened the door. He doesn’t look like the Joe you’re used to seeing, but he does look better. “Storm gets very vocal if I don’t wait for you. Either because he’s protective of you and mealtimes,” Joe comments, “or because he knows he won’t get two dinners and he’s pissed.”

“I think if I were Storm my master plan would be to get two dinners too. Sounds like a real good deal for just a street cat.”

Joe only grins, not with all his teeth, but the little lift of his mouth still feels like a win. The descent back down to the kitchen is quiet with Joe leading the way. You’re hand in hand with him once you’re both on level ground. His hold feels tighter, like he’s desperate for something. Yet, this is a time you’re not sure for what. Don’t know if there’s something you can say or do that will help. 

Joe pulls out the dish for him and your leftovers, working to plate them both while you grab Storm’s food. The crack of the can is all it takes for the twinkle of his tags to hit the air again. His water bowl is still good, and there’s not a second wasted before his first bites. “How was your day?” Joe asks. Your plate goes into the microwave first--as always. 

“Fine. But it’s maybe starting to get a little awkward at the front desk.”

“People are recognizing you?”

“They are,” you answer.  There’s only the one post you have with Joe. But it’s all that people need. No one’s been disrespectful to you yet. But you can see it, in the way patients stare at you from their seats in the lobby or when you check them in for their appointments. They do recognize it’s you. They recognize who you’re connected to, but thankfully, it’s only been the stares.

“I worried about that,” Joe comments. 

“No one’s said anything to me though.” 

“If it gets bad, please let me know.” The microwave beeps and Joe sets your plate aside before putting his in. 

This is how short it is with Joe, or at least how short it is right now. Still with care, but it’s clear by the way Joe stares down at the microwave that part of him is not with you. “Is there anything I can do? Back rub? A verbal lashing to your team? To disappear off the face of the planet?” You’d do anything Joe needed. 

His laughter is short, but his eyes crinkle. “No, baby. I’m sorry that I’m distracted, but you do not need to disappear off the face of the planet. Just trying to get my head together, that’s all.”

“It’s all going to work out. Whatever went wrong today it’s better to get it out in practice than on gameday, right? Like priming a well pump. You have to get all the gross stuff out first before you get to the good stuff.”

He takes your waist into his hands, a quick and tight squeeze at the flesh of you before his lips brush over yours, a soft kiss, one that leaves your toes still curling though. “I hope so. I hope today was priming the pump.”

“I know so,” you whisper against his lips. You both know you don’t know that but you believe it desperately, need to will it into truth for Joe. 

The rest of the evening is quiet. Joe excuses himself back to his office after dinner, with a promise to find you before he heads to bed--an early night that you’re preparing to see more often now. You slither into the bedroom to shower and change. By the time you’re done, Joe’s office door is still closed. You peer into your reading room and spot Storm perched on the catpost you acquired for him just two weeks after adopting him. It faces out into the street facing window with plenty for him to watch during the day.

You settle into the lounge chair, finding your current book on the side table where you left it a couple days ago. It’s only a couple hours that pass, enough for you to make it another three chapters into the book before there’s a knock on your open door. Joe leans into the door, the sweatpants from earlier now swapped for the red plaid pajama bottoms you’ve grown all accustomed to stealing from time to time. 

“Headed to bed?”

Joe nods at the question. “But I need my goodnight kisses, please. Unless I’m interrupting the enemies becoming lovers, or the haunted ship’s curse nearly being broken, or the guy suspected of being a vampire doing very vampire-y things and trying to lie about it, in which case I will take a number, but I will be pouty about it.”

“This one is about a haunted painting and you’re in the clear.”

“Good.”

The two of you meet halfway--you pushing up from the chair and Joe pushing off the door. Joe’s quick to cup your face and presses two-and no less than two- dramatic kisses to your lips. They echo with an exaggerated muah, muah, after each touch.

“I’ll join in another hour, two tops,” you promise, running a hand along Joe’s hip. 

Even though Joe’s known to fall asleep in mere seconds after his head hits the pillow, he still returns with, ”Don’t keep me waiting too long. The bed’s lonely without you.”

“Storm as my witness, I won’t. He, much like his dad, is very protective of bedtime.”

Joe laughs, longer and louder than previously. A sound that flutters in your chest. His nose brushes against yours as he closes in for another kiss. “I’m much more like a stepdad to him. But we’re getting better. He finds me at the door now when I come home instead of waiting just for you. It may take him like ten minutes to climb down from his little perch but he does find me.”

“I’m glad the conversations I’ve had with him are helping.”

“Me too. Enjoy the haunted painting.”

“Enjoy bed.” Joe kisses the tip of your nose, heads for the door and you can’t help the words. “Love you.”

His smile is bright, as Joe peers back through the open doorway. “Love you more.”

As the season delves in deeper, you’re starting to learn more about Joe and his moods. Fridays before games Joe’s tense, but still somewhat chatty. Saturdays for away games are much too short. You help him sometimes with his packing, if he asks for it. Though most of it is already done on Friday. You polish the necklace of yours that he wears, press a kiss to it before he leaves the house and then place it back on him. There’s little words to be spoken, focusing instead on finding the ways with actions to support him. Saturdays for home games are a wash. Joe wakes before you, like normal, but he’s elusive, in his office or in the backyard if it’s nice enough outside, but he’s gone. It’s Joe, but you can see the focus glazing over his eyes, watching the way he moves a little bit differently. 

On those home game Saturdays, you settle down with Storm in your reading room if you can’t find anything else to do that takes you out. And when you are home, you give Joe a wide berth, let him initiate conversation should he want it but otherwise you’re only around to slide him plates of food and the occasional kiss. You know when Joe wants one when he looks up at you through his lashes, a shy grin taking over his face. “I think I forgot something when I ordered,” he teases. 

“Which is what?”

“A little something sweet on the side.” And you make sure to always give him something sweet, two kisses and no less than two kisses before you slip back out of the room. 

Sundays are intense--win or lose the house is thick. With away games, you invite Robin and Jimmy over alongside your parents and together the five you watch from the big TV downstairs. Storm hides sometimes with the crowd but over the last few weeks he’s gotten better about the visitors, comes out to get a pet or two before hiding away again. You and your family, alongside Joe’s, cheer when the long shots are caught, when the touchdowns are scored, with the defensive stops the yard gains and you all swear at the terrible calls, wince at the picks. Your heart races everytime the pocket collapses, whenever Joe takes a hit. All you can think about is the knee, is the wrist, about the concussions. It always hurt before, but now it hurts twofold. You know what it would mean to Joe and you know what it means to you to see him injured. Regardless of the outcome of the games, when the evening turns into night and the door eases open, you wait at the edge of the living room for Joe.

The wins are easy. Joe eases back through the door, travel bags dropped before he can get the door shut. “Baby!” he bellows even though you’re always there, you’re always right there to wrap him up in a hug, press kiss after kiss to his cheek. 

And after the loses Joe eases through the door, travel bags still wrapped around his fingers. The door shuts and you take him into your arms, allow him to bury his head into your neck. “I’m proud of you, hon. You guys fought hard.”

Because you never need to tell Joe what wasn’t working, if the defense slacked, or the o-line didn’t hold like they needed to give Joe the time in the pocket. He already knows that. That’s not your job. Your job is to be there, for every mountain top high and every valley bottom. You take the travel bag for him, on those losses, guide him upstairs and give him a night and sometimes two to not have to do anything--you take care of the laundry, Storm’s feeding, dinner. It’s the least you can do. 

Some losses sting more so than others though. You can see the storm still raging behind his face when he walks back in after a particular grueling game against the Ravens. Too many interceptions, too few possessions, and a run game they couldn’t seem to make any breakthroughs or put a stop to leave Joe icy rather than calm and collected. The record now 7-5. Much too close for comfort at the end of Week 12, the second loss in a row and no one wants a third. 

You wait near the door, but not at it, unsure based on the singular text, Headed home now, what beholds you. The worst loss yet this season and that learning curve you’re on could still be steep. Storm waits next to you, at your feet. Joe’s inhale is sharp but you can’t tell if it’s relief or him steeling his nerves. 

“Baby,” Joe calls out, dropping his bag near the stairs. It’s rather stern but there’s a hair of something underneath it too. The kind of tilt you’ve heard before--a subtle kind of panic. 

You push off the wall, not hidden in the arch, but not immediately visible to him, even if you can see Joe. “Not a hair disturbed.”

“Good, that’s good.” 

The hug and kiss are brief and you don’t know what to say. Because you are proud of him but you know he’s not proud of his performance or the team’s performance right now. “Do you--”

“I need space,” he answers--sharply, like he was anticipating the question. 

“Yeah, okay. If you’re hungry there’s food--”

“In the fridge. I know.” It’s all he says, still rather hotly and over your words and your attempts, as he starts for the kitchen. 

You know it’s just the loss. You know it’s not you. You shouldn’t take it personal but his clipped tone and distance sting. It’s not you. Just the loss. You collect Storm from the floor and make a beeline for the stairs. It’s just the loss, you tell yourself. It’s not you. But a little bit of it feels like it might be because of you. Like maybe you should’ve left it alone sooner, left him alone sooner.

There's just a tiny squeak that echoes behind you as you work up the steps.

________________________

That’s not the kind of performance Joe expects from himself. Not the kind of game he wants to play. The anger and frustration is still sizzling under his skin. The microwave beeping irks him. The clatter of the forks as he digs one out makes his ears ache. He wants to scream again. It would disturb you and probably scare Storm so he doesn’t. But he can feel disappointment curling his fingers around the marble kitchen island. 

“Can’t have another week like that,” he mutters to himself before stabbing at the chicken. The fork hits with a sharp clink as he works mouthful after mouthful of the food down. 

When he turns to face the dishwasher, the magnetic sign is flipped to clean. “Motherfucker,” he huffs. But it’s always flipped to clean on Sundays, because you always run it on Sundays after hosting. And you’re usually the one to hand wash his plate after he gets home should he eat something. Joe scrapes the plate, rinses it, and sets it into the sink. A little too rough and his heart races at the clacking. That’s one of the plates you thrifted and Joe wouldn’t even begin to know where or how to get a replacement.

“Damn it, please don’t be broken.” Thankfully there’s no chips or cracks in the red plate. 

That’s the kind of game where there’s no solace even in performance. There was no hard fight. It was an absolute terrible shutout. The kind of game that in little league would be stopped well before it’s even over just so it wouldn’t demoralize the kids. But Joe’s no kid. All he has is disappointment. The utter disgust at his performance, at the team’s showing. 

He shoves off from the counter, desperate for a hot shower, and silence to seethe in. His bag is still next to the steps when Joe returns to the foyer. Joe nearly walks past it, one foot hovering over the first step. But the sight of the bag still on the ground pauses him. You always take his bag for him and at the very least put it into the bedroom. He usually insists on unpacking it himself unless he’s dead tired. But you’ll run the laundry, wait specifically for him to get back to do it on Mondays too. 

But you always take his bag. 

Yet, his bag is still next to the steps. Another pang in his chest as he recounts how he’d interrupted you twice when all you were trying to do was be there for him after a rather poor and damning performance. “Shit,” he sighs, frustration simmering for a second and now, now he’s panicked. “No, Joe, we’re not doing that. Not to them.” 

Joe leaves the bag behind and takes the steps two at a time. He can’t take his frustration out on you. It’s not fair. He knows better than that. Promised himself he’d not let you become the punching bag because of a game--win or lose, it’s not you that should be taking the repercussions.

Joe checks the bedroom first, but you’re not there. The bed’s still made up, his pj’s rests at the bottom--like always, but there’s no sign of you from the adjacent bathroom. No sign of you in the walk in closet. You have to still be in the house. Joe prays you are. Did he hear you go upstairs?

He continues down the wall to your reading room. The lights are off, so Joe flicks them on. Storm’s not on the perch. You’re not in the lounge chair. But you’re almost always there.  The house isn’t that big. And he definitely heard you go upstairs, the middle steps squeak just a little, just a hair if you step on them just right. He heard that squeak. He’s sure of it. You’re still home. 

His office door is open, but the room is empty. Not that you’d ever really go in there, but now it doesn’t matter about too much logic. It just matters that he finds you. That he apologizes for his actions. Joe continues down to the upper floor guest bedroom and just before he crosses the threshold Joe hears the softest sniffle. 

His shoulders drop at the sound, relief easing into his chest alongside regret. “Baby, I’m coming in,” Joe warns. “You probably don’t like me right now and I don’t fault that.” 

You sit up against the side of the bed, knees pulled up to your chest. A shadow elongates, the golden tags around the neck letting Joe know it’s Storm who stretches up, like he’s trying to get your attention. But you don’t give it to him. 

Joe settles onto the carpeted floor next to you, a foot or so of space between you, but close enough to you that he can still feel the warmth of you bleeding into his skin. He keeps his voice low, soft in the still room. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier, for interrupting you. That was rude of me.”

He’s met with silence. 

“You were just trying to be there, like you always are. I’m upset with myself but I shouldn’t have let myself get that snappy at you. Not when I know I can communicate better than that.”

“How’s the plate?” you ask, head turning now to watch him. There’s slivers of light from the blinds and you get lost in it visually, minus your eyes and the parts of your face lowly lit by the moon.

“You heard that, huh?”

“Kind of hard not to hear it.”

“I’m sorry about that. Plate’s fine, but I’m more concerned about you.”

“I didn’t intend to be in the way.”

It’s not lost on Joe that you don’t talk about how you felt. And he logs it away for later, to talk to you about it after he’s regulated himself. Because your feelings don’t matter less than his. You should have the space to say how you feel to him, especially if he’s the reason for it. “You weren’t in the way. You’re never in the way. I’m frustrated with myself, with how I played today. But I have communicated that better in the past and I should’ve communicated that better tonight too. I am so sorry for hurting you or offending you. I think I would feel offended if the roles were reversed.”

“I know every game is important. You want to do well, but I would really appreciate a better heads up.”

You’re not asking the world of Joe. He can deliver on that. He can communicate better. “Give the old wizard another try? He’ll do better next time. Promise.” 

Your tuft of laughter is soft. “Yeah, I can give him another try.”

He finds your hand and pulls you into him. Joe can make out the bridge of your nose in the dark and places a kiss on it. The violent buzzing under his skin is a little quieter than before but it still thrums, lets him know that he’s still in no position to want to talk, to want to stay around you while he’s in such a foul mood. Joe’s grateful for your patience and grace though. “Thank you.”

Your fingers are gentle over his jaw, like you’re counting each inch of it. “I don’t know what to do to make it better, hon. But I want to.”

“I know you do, baby. I don’t think this is something that you can make better. It’s on me. It’s on the team. We have to figure it out. And we will. But right now, I just feel like I’m on the edge of something not nice and I don’t want a repeat of earlier. I just need some time, space to clear my head. This isn’t on you.”

“Okay. But if you ever find out what I can do, you’ll let me know?”

You won’t let it go, won’t let him go. But none of this is about letting go. “How about this? You get ready for bed, okay? Get it all nice and toasty in the sheets, and when I’m more composed, I’ll join you. Think you can do that for me?”

“You do hate cold sheets.”

“I do,” Joe laughs as he brushes a thumb over the apple of your cheek. 

The thrum quiets just a little bit more but it’s still lurking. This isn’t the kind of noise you’ll quiet fully. You’ll dull it but Joe needs to sit with this, feel every ounce of it before he can truly take it apart and analyze it. This season is vital, more so than Joe wants to admit, but the franchise needs more winds in its sails than it has, even Joe knows it. This is do or die. And Joe’s not going to fucking die. That much he is sure of. But there’s you, in his arms, who wants to make it better for him. He knows you would if you could. 

Joe presses another kiss to your lips, whispers right up against them so full against his. “Cold sheets are the worst kind of sheets there are. Second worst only to an empty bed at home. So full bed and warm sheets, that’s what I need you to do. Sound like a plan?”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.” 

Joe lets you peel away from him with one last kiss, but stays seated on the floor, bringing his own knees up, feet planted wide on the floor, and wrapping his arms around the joints. His fingers thread through. The night is still thick around him, even with the bleeding light of the hallway.

This is really do or die. But they’d been doing so well, a four game winning streak all toppled with two games. A piss poor performance. They’d gotten too comfortable with their slow paced game openings--throwing up field goals and a touchdown here and there to get momentum before really sealing the deal in the second half. A total opposite from the season previous, where they needed to open fast and hard. 

Because slow and steady gave both offensive and defensive moments to breathe. Joe’s not afraid of this career, knows that every time he pads up there’s no telling what will happen. But part of him is more anxious than before, if he takes too big of a blow, how he’ll mentally handle that kind of challenge again. Yet, the reality never changes, that there’s no telling what each game holds. Each time Joe pads up, he is truly at the mercy of fate. 

But even if it’s important, this isn’t the version of himself that he wants to bring home to you. The kind of man that’s too snappy to see what is that you’re trying to do. This is a learning curve for Joe, navigating the high emotions of his job up against you. But you deserve someone that’s willing to do that kind of hard work. 

The shower starts up behind him. The first sign of life from you since you left the guest bedroom. It eases part of the ache in his chest to hear the roaring sound. In the air, around the noise from the shower, is the twinkle of the cat tags and something bumps into him—soft. 

Joe looks over  to see Storm, his yellow gaze sharp in the night. His gaze unwavering stares back at Joe. And Joe can only stare back at the cat. Unsure what might be happening, what the little creature wants or needs from Joe. Considering how attached the animal is to you. Before Joe can speak, Storm meows, once, and sharp—a reprimand or a warning Joe’s not sure. But the sound comes either way and it sounds like it’s meant to say something along the lines of, not my human. 

“It won’t happen again, Storm."

Meow. Sharp again but a tad softer. Something to Joe that feels like understanding, and grace that he doesn’t feel he deserves but he’s relieved to have from both you and Storm. The two of you can figure something out, find a way to communicate through this together. A short hand, something easy and quick that doesn’t require too much length deposition. 

Like a scale, or a color system. And there’s Storm’s steady gaze still locked in on Joe. Joe nods. “Loud and clear, buddy.”

The cat turns from Joe’s side. Storm’s shadow slinks away over the wall into the hallway. Joe’s not sure how long he sits on the floor, staring up and out into the slightly opened blinds. But it’s long enough for his butt to go numb for his knees to ache just a little when he finally gets up. Because it’s just one game. Come Tuesday the team will have time to talk it through, reassess where they all faltered and how to tighten up for their next game. It’s just one game, in a bigger picture. There’s still time to turn the tides, still time to get it right. 

And get it right, they will. 

Joe finds the bedroom mostly dark after he collects his bag from downstairs, the bathroom light cuts in just a little so he can see after turning off the lights in the hallway. Under the sheets, you lay on your satin pillowcase, facing Joe’s side, like you might’ve waited for him to show up. Yet, you couldn’t escape the clutches of sleep long enough to keep up. Joe slips into the bathroom, brushes his teeth, washes over his face before putting on the pj's and slithers into the sheets, a chad chilly, but as he gets closer to you, they warm. 

You burrow into him, pressing your face into his neck. Joe exhales at the realization that you still seek out his comfort. Tomorrow, Joe promises, as he settles his arm around you, catching sight of just one of Storm’s peeled back eyes from the cat’s spot curled up in the back of your knees, he’s also going to do right by you. 

“Like a scale,” Joe concludes, setting his clothes for practice tomorrow out flat on top of the built-in drawers for the closet. 

You sit perched on the bench in the middle of the room. Storm’s somewhere--Joe can hear the tags in the closet, but the cat’s a master of slipping into the lower racks especially of your clothes and hiding away. Joe called your office early in the morning to let them know you weren’t feeling well, which was a white lie, but he wanted to spend his day off with you, to make up for what he did last night. You relented with only a few bats of his lashes. 

“So, like last night would’ve been a 9?” you ask. 

He nods. The scale starts at 5 and goes to 9, the larger the number the more upset he is post game. 1-4 are too small, emotional states that Joe knows he can easily communicate through and aren’t worth including on the scale. But he’ll never hit a 10. Will make sure of it. Doesn’t want to ever bring that kind of emotional state home to you. “Yeah, it would’ve been.”

“And last week would’ve been what? Or would it not have made the scale?”

“Five, tops. But no higher than that.”

“What should I do in a 7 and up scenario?”

The first loss hadn’t been bad. It stung, undoubtedly. But Joe really did just want to come home, curl up in your arms. He was pissed but knew that at the end of it the day, there would always be another game to play. Another chance to win. But the jump from a 5 to a 7 is a steep one. 

It’s a fair question, one that Joe chewed over and over in the quiet morning before bringing the idea to you. He settles onto the bench next to you, tracing over the bumps of your knuckles. “A hug and a kiss is always welcomed. We have a solid ritual post game of that. But I think a hug and a kiss is the start and end of it for a 7 or higher. I know you’ll want to do something, but if I’m that upset, there’s not much you can do.”

“Got it.”

“I’m going to ask this and I want you to be totally honest with me, okay?”

“I don’t like the sound of that question. But okay, I’ll be honest.”

“How did my actions make you feel last night?” It’s awkward on his tongue. But this part is important. It’s easy to sweep under the rug. Easy to pretend like just because he apologized and promised that he wouldn’t do it again that it’s all better. But it matters to Joe that he hears what his actions did. That he understands why he’s promising not to do it again. 

“Oh, Joe.”

It’s just an inch, maybe even less than that that you start to pull away from his hold but Joe tightens it just a hair, pulls you back closer to him. “No, no, I need to hear it. Please.”

“And you want me to be honest?”

He nods. “I do.”

“We have a plan now.”

“And I still want to hear how you felt.”

The two don’t negate each other. Not for Joe. A battle of wills ensues--you pleading with him with no words and Joe firm in his decision. He has to hear it. Has to know exactly what his actions can do.

"Please," Joe tries again, not demanding, but incessant.

You exhale before you speak, a long three seconds by Joe's count. “I don’t think I was offended. Or maybe I was just a little. It hurt but I think I was also a little scared. That somehow I’d make things worse without realizing it. I tried not to take it personally though, but yeah, it just hurt mostly.”

Scared. The word guts him, chokes his inhale because Joe never wants you to be scared of him. Even though you’ve qualified the statement, made it clear that your fear was about not upsetting him more unintentionally, the trust still remains. You were scared. And of him in some way. 

There’s no words, nothing for Joe to say for a moment, but he inhales again to give himself the space to find something to say.

“Look at me,” he starts, scared himself to have you face him but needing it anyway. The second your eyes land on his face he sees it--the part of you that worried about him, that worried about you, that’s still back there in that moment. 

“No, don’t do that. Whatever you’re thinking, stop,” you warn. 

“I never, and I mean never, want you to be scared of me again. I’m so fucking sorry I made you feel that way.”

“I wasn’t scared of you. I was scared for you.”

But to Joe, it all sounds the same. That he could manage to do anything but make you feel anything but loved and cared for, and safe. If he could slay a thousand suns, just to make you feel safe again with him, he would. 

“I’m so sorry.” The words leave him choked, the tear stings behind his eye. And all Joe can do is apologize. He can only hope you forgive him. 

Your palms press firmly into his cheeks. “I accept your apology, hon. We have the scale now. I know what to do. I know it’s not personal. We’re prepared now. Don’t do this to yourself. I do forgive you.”

But he’s already done it. He can’t take it back. Life doesn’t come with a rewind button. “I’m so sorry.” That's all he can say. Those are only words he has, even as you bring him into your neck. Even as you squeeze at his shoulders, whisper into his ear that you forgive him. The only thing Joe can do is apologize and hope he never has to apologize for something like this again. 

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The stadium’s electric. It’s to be expected, considering the rivalry that’s about to play out on the field, between the Bengals and the Browns. The noise and the energy is loud and thick. The thing that you’re not prepared for that you wish you had considered is just how often the heads turn in your direction. It is your first game out in public since you started dating Joe and since the campaign went public. You’ve wanted to be there. Cheering for Joe at home doesn’t scratch the same itch as being in the stadium, but it’s been a balancing act of how much both you and Joe are comfortable with being out in the public. 

Yet, after two rough games back to back, you realize it’s more important now more than ever that you are here, in the stadium. It means a lot to you to stand by Joe, even after the stumbles, because you know this is a team that has good bones in it. A unified front. And it probably means more to Joe that you’re here too, after the personal blunders too. After the way last Sunday night went down. 

Robin warns you that you probably shouldn’t walk the floor by yourself just yet, but the box feels too far removed, too stuffy. There’s celebrities that you recognize walking about. They’re polite, but you feel like you can’t exactly relax like you want. It just feels a little too stiff. You want a little bit of air, and maybe a hotdog. You’ve been normal for so long; it’s hard to understand that you’re not as normal as you were before. But you can feel the stares, feel the eyes that look at you twice, see the way some people freeze when they spot you. 

“Oh my god, you’re the DM!”

The shout comes from your right and you turn to see a cluster of people. They look young, maybe you and Joe’s age or a little younger. But the two girls point you out and the guys they’re with pause, brows knitted together until they get a deeper look, and even they go wide eyed. 

“From the campaign, that’s you, right?” There’s one girl, half a step ahead of the group. Her brunette hair tied back and away from her face. In the bitter edge of the cold, she smiles brightly at you. 

You nod. Unsure if you should step out of line, but you really do want this hotdog. “It’s me.”

“We loved the campaign! So good. Excited for season two!”

“The back-to-back reveal was insane,” one of the guys agrees. 

None of you move from your spots. They don’t move from the stairs and you don’t move out of line. The conversation floats over the cheer and roar of the crowd. “Thanks, I appreciate that.” The entire group is dawned in Bengals gear, you see Joe’s number on a couple, one of Ja’Marr, and one more for Mike Holton. “You guys have great taste,” you remark, pointing to the jerseys. 

It earns you a laugh. “Thanks. And totally didn’t mean to interrupt, just wanted to say that I enjoyed it.”

“I appreciate it, truly.” The group turns from you then, back to the stairs and carries on down them. You move up in the line. 

It’s a painless ordering process to get your hotdog with toppings and a drink. But those eyes are all still following. You can’t hear exactly what’s being said, but you can see it, the way people watch and whisper. It’d gotten a little intense at work once the season started, enough so that you’ve been tempted to bring it up to Joe, talk about how you might need to move fields or find something else to do in the interim. 

It’s been isolated just to work. You don’t check your Instagram now at all--have asked all your friends just to text you directly with whatever they want to share so you’re limited on the time you spend up there. You don’t really want to see whatever’s been said, the good or the bad. But now in public, especially at the stadium, you’re realizing that maybe that’s been a good move to stay off the platform. In public, there's really no filter.

You make it back to the box in one piece, a heavy exhale leaving your chest as you lean into the wall next to the door. A lot’s changing for you. Even if you don’t see, don’t interact with the changes all the time. But you’re not normal anymore. The descending realities leave you stuck here, in the in-between. Between normal and not normal. Between anonymity and fame. Only relevant because who you love, but knowing that your life will never go back to what it was like before. 

“Okay over there?” 

You peel back your eyes to see your dad, just a few feet from you. “I’m good. Just a lot of eyeballs.”

“Well, I can tell everyone in here to close their eyes if it helps.”

Your laughter is soft but you cross the room to him. “I don’t think that would go over well, but thanks.”

Robin smiles up at you when you settle back down into your chair. “I’ve got a good feeling about today.”

She says it every time, but you don’t point that out. Just nod. “Let’s see how good,” you return like always. 

Your mother snuggles in closer to your dad. “I’m not built for this cold weather.”

“And you’ve lived here your whole life,” he laughs, but wraps his arm around her shoulders. 

“Don’t make me have to hurt you know. Our kid over there knows a few bigger guys.”

Your dad looks over with a roll of his eyes. But it’s how it should be. How you wished the last fifteen years went. But you’re glad for the memories now. Know that for the holidays, he’ll be gone to visit his kids in South Carolina for a few days and you hope they have this too, moments that they can steal for the joy, knowing it won’t be years until they get them again. 

Joe’s eyes look like they could cut steel, when the team captains march up the field, ready for the coin toss. He approaches the captains of the Browns, ensuring to speak with them all, but you can see the resolve painting his face. There’s the rivalry of course. But Joe’s always been able to carry a bit of levity during the coin toss. Ja’Marr and Tee stand to the right of him. You see it in their gazes too, the kind of cutting look that says all bite and no bark. The Browns take the coin flip, but elect to have the Bengals receive. And it’s only a flash, the cut of Joe’s eyes towards the camera, a quick four or five seconds, but it is ice across your skin when he spikes the lens.

“The Browns have got another thing coming,” you whisper, sharing a bucket of popcorn now with your mother. 

“You saw it too?” Robin asks, turning in her chair to face you. “Is everything alright?”

You and Joe are fine now. After spending Monday together, talking through what led to Joe’s icy behavior and working a plan puts you both on the same playing field, your routines have settled back to normal. Joe greeted you at the door with Storm at his feet. You two shared dinners together like usual. There were laughs, easy kisses, desperate kisses. You read chapters aloud to him in bed as he fell asleep. He loaded up the dishwasher without prompting, washed your utensils and containers from your lunch, slipped you singles in a small ziplock sandwich bag to use at the laundromat across the street from you for something sweet, and left notes stuck to the bathroom mirror for you after he left for the day. 

It’s all been fine.

“Yeah, things are good.”

But you and Robin share a knowing look, that if things were fine, if they were good, that something was still fueling a fire for Joe. You two look back to the field, watch various camera angles spread over the stadium as the sea of the fans erupt for their teams. A camera passes over the offensive line and Tee works at something along Joe’s neck, beneath the pads and then gives him a thumbs up. 

You good, you just barely put it together as you read Tee’s lips and the thumbs up. 

The first snap always feels a little nerve wracking. You know these first few drives set the tempo, telegraph at least for a small bit of what to expect. But the snaps are fast. The offensive line is holding and holding, with just enough time for Joe to send it sailing, at least a fifteen to twenty yard toss. Tee’s swift, up and down with the ball in hand, running it for an additional 12 yards on top of the first down. 

Where the Bengals had been taking things slow, working up to the field goal, this first possession results in a full drive, all the way down to the endzone. An electric first five minutes of the quarter. The extra point kick sails through the uprights with ease. 7-0. 

The defense is shaking on its first round of play. Though the Browns aren't successful in points, they do make two first downs in their drive. A small wobble, one that you know they can easily recover from. Joe’s on the sidelines, pats and taps on helmets and pads. You don’t know what he’s saying. But he looks electric, a bounce in him that most definitely hadn’t been there in games prior. 

The second offensive possession is fast, resulting in another touchdown. You watch Ja’Marr, Tee, and Andrei catch pass after pass. Each ball spirals around itself like a bullet. There’s a kind of power behind each of Joe’s toss, even the shorter ones, that makes you wince as they’re caught, the kind of passes that are direct, calculated, and deadly. 14-0. 

The Browns manage a return, to bring the score to 14-3. The commentators seem to be at a loss of words with each possession. “I mean, I don’t think I’ve seen the Bengals firing like this on all cylinders since their 2022 run. Burrow is delivering bomb after bomb today. I-I don’t know what happened after that two game losing streak, but it’s clear the Bengals, in the midst of their own jungle, their home stadium, are hungry for a win.”

“The Bengals defense did start shaky there, and has its moments. We can’t discount that, but the Browns are going to get desperate if these early possessions are any indication. If we just look at the length of time each quarterback had the ball today just in this first first quarter, Burrow’s had nearly double if not double and a half the time. I mean, we were all there for Burrow’s 2019 Heisman run. We saw him in 2022. But he’s playing today like the kid back then, still fighting to prove his name, prove his worth.”

17-6. You push to the edge of your seat, watching, remembering the icy look, noticing Ja’Marr’s and Tee’s equally deadly gaze. Joe is fighting for something. Redemption from the last two games is obvious. But there’s something else, something that matters more than just the game. 

In the second quarter, you’re halfway expecting for the team to let up for them to ease up off the gas on the offensive game. But Joe calls for a quick snap, can tell by how fast the ball arches up. Another touchdown added to the field goal from the last part of the first quarter. 24-6. This is not about letting off the gas you realize. This is about leaving nothing in the wake.

As the second half starts, the ticking of the clock down from the third quarter might well be the ticking clock from the first. The Bengals are not letting up. Not for a single second. Though the Browns manage a touchdown, their momentum doesn’t outpace the Bengals, leaving the board at 34-13 by the end of the third quarter. 

Joe takes the snap, drops into the pocket. There’s two defenders on Ja’Marr, and one of Tee. In the green and white sea below you, you watch Joe find his receiver, arm cocked back. The offensive line crumbles just a little, the left edge of the pocket melting, the orange jerseys seemingly swallowed up by the Browns in white. 

It doesn’t seem to matter. Joe fires off his shot, ball spiraling deep down the field. A couple of the Browns defenders who have broken through slow their run, clear to them now that the ball’s been released. Then Joe’s down. Hit coming full force. One hand coming up near his neck and you can’t call a face grab, not from your vantage point. But you do know the hit’s not legal, not anymore. You don’t even attempt to log the name of the defender who took the tackle. If you do it’ll boil your blood. 

Andrei catches the ball, gaining another fifteen years on top of the first down. You can hear the silence though the space where there would be a cheer in the crowd. There’s a hush. Joe lays there, after falling onto his shoulder and then rolls his back. You push up from the chair, watching, waiting. “Please get up, please get up,” you whisper. 

There’s two giant heaves from Joe. You watch the rise and fall of his chest. “Where’s the flag?” Jimmy cries out. 

“Refs, c’mon!” your dad shouts. “It’s right there in front of you!” 

But the rest of the shouts are muffled by the rushing of your heart, the blood stampeding through your veins and ears now. “Please get up, please get up.” 

Joe turns back to his side, then raises to his knees, fists pressed into the dirt. “A hard, and if I do say so myself, rather late tackle there by the Browns against Burrow.”

“Get up, Joe. Please get up.” It’s a mantra over your lips. You’d even go so far as to call it a prayer. 

The ref calls are always seemingly shaky against Joe, sometimes called and sometimes not. And time’s moving too slow already as it is, watching Joe on the field. “Oh, a little delayed, but we’ve got a flag.”

The flag drops to the ground, a yellow dot to you. But you can only watch Joe. “Get up, hon. Please. I need you to get up. Just be okay.”

Joe reaches up for something around his neck again, thighs now digging into the cleats. Whatever it is, he seemingly finds it. His exhale is visible even with the pads and probably more so visible with them. Tee and Ja’Marr scramble over. OBJ’s already there to help Joe up. And you can only watch, try to see if there’s any sign of pain. The team starts to huddle around him but Joe’s nodding after he stands. 

“Roughing the passer,” the referee calls out over the mic. “15 yard penalty. Automatic first down.”

The claps erupt from around you as Joe’s seemingly back up on his feet. But you catch it, the quick brace against his knees, another big inhale. “Looks like Burrow might’ve had the wind knocked out of him there for a second. But he’s up and that’s a massive penalty in the Bengals favor.”

The rest of the game passes in front of you in a bit of a blur. Because you’re only focus is Joe. You watch Coach Taylor talk to Joe on the side--you imagine it’s about Joe sitting out for just long enough to get examined--the head shake paired with the shrug from Joe confirms that he won’t be doing that. You keep waiting. There’s no limp. He doesn’t seem to wince or reach for anything that looks like an injury, just plays, when on the sidelines, at a thin gold chain--your gold chain. The one you kiss before every game for him. It dazzles now in the sunlight in view of the camera.

Joe runs his fingers side to side, around the chain, watches as a near perfect shadow to Coach Taylor for a moment to what's happening on the field. He presses a kiss to the chain, before slipping away out of view of the camera. But you can see him, watch as he heads directly for the rest of the team. There’s more words, even if you can’t hear them. A row of fistbumps as he goes. Every offensive lineman nods in return at the words. 

When the two minute warning is called, it’s 41-13 in favor of the Bengals. The Browns have possession but you’ve witnessed a team possessed, a machine ready to seek and destroy anything and anyone in its way. The penalty put them in deep into scoring range and you’re not even sure they needed it. But it did massively secure their lead. You wait to see how this possession goes, if the Browns will be able to respond, but they can’t. The Bengals hold the line and the Browns final drive ends with a sack and an overturn back to the Bengals. 

The clock drops down and down a second at a time. There’s mercy with the last minute on the clock. Joe lets the second string quarterback take the knee twice to drop the play clock all the way to zero. 

41-13 echoes in the lights as the final score. 

“I need to get downstairs.”

“There’s going to be a crowd right now. We’ll get down there after--” Jimmy starts and then stops as he turns to face you. It’s not an ask, not some kind of fleeting concern. You can feel how hard a line of your mouth has settled into. “I’ll go with you.”

The two of you, plus a security guard walk in silence. The sound the echoes around you is from the fans, the crowd is loud. It’s not anger that you feel. It’s worry. It’s the absolute panicked need to make sure that he’s okay, that he’s not sacrificing himself for some kind of redemption. So you stalk your way through Paycor Stadium, Jimmy at your side, as the rest of the crowd celebrates the victory. 

“He’s tough,” Jimmy offers. 

“He is.” Your voice is rough to your own ears, thick with the tears that haven’t burned your eyes yet. 

“Something happened, didn’t it?”

You can only nod. Your throat is tightening up on you. Because now as you walk through the hallways all you have is the fear again. The sight of Joe splayed out on that field with the two giant breaths he took. “I don’t want anything to happen to him.” You don’t want Joe to happen to him, don’t want him to get so blinded by his own desire.

“It’s alright. You take some hits in football. I am glad it’s you, that’s trying to look out for my boy.”

The two of you pause for just a moment. A blink brings Jimmy into focus. You knew his family liked you. But that feels different, that feels like it’s deeper than just approval. You wouldn’t have assumed so earlier. But now it’s staring at you in the face. Just how much you mean to the family. Jimmy’s smile is a little shy. “Thanks, Jimmy.”

He nods. “Yeah, besides Joe’s hardheaded when he wants to be. But you know that already. You take lumps in football. It’s how the game is played.”

The only thing you can do is nod before you resume the pursuit back through Paycor. Getting hit is how the game is played. It’s how every game is played but goddamn, it doesn’t stop your heart from racing in your chest. The speakers are loud around you, broadcasting the audio from the field still.

“Joe, that was an incredible performance by you today. Tell us, after your previous two losses, what is it that changed for you all tonight?”

His voice is pitchy, still clearly reeling from all the effort in the game. “We came hungry today. Those two losses lit a fire under us because each and every one of us had a reason not to leave anything on the field today. We know that we’re built for greatness and it’s time for us to play like it.”

“You took a pretty heavy hit today. Took you a second to get back onto your feet. You had the entire stadium on pins and needles. How are you feeling?”

“Uh, yeah, there’s always the potential for hits when you suit up. It’s just the way of the game. I’m serious about staying healthy through this season so I’m definitely going to have a more thorough check after this. But you don’t put these pads on if you’re not ready for some blows.”

Ja’Marr comes through the tunnel first, his grin faltering just for a second when he spies you, helmet in his hands. It doesn’t stop him from wrapping you up in a side hug. “Twin, he’s good. It’s all good. Turn that frown upside down, will ya?”

“Congrats on the win.”

Tee comes up behind Ja’Marr. “Let’s fucking go, man!” The slap of the pads echoes in your ears and when Tee sees you, he grins even brighter. “Cuz, didn’t know you’d be let down to come see us.”

“Surprise,” you return, hoping your smile looks more genuine than it feels. “Y’all played great today.”

“Your mans was up our ass at practice. I think he could tell what we had for breakfast four days ago. But it paid off. Don’t be too hard on him,” Tee grins, electing to for a fist bump. “Because I know that look anywhere. That’s the ‘Pissed Off Black Parent’ look. I done seen it too many times to want to stick around to see what happens.”

The jab does make you laugh-a genuine, from your gut burst of laughter- and Tee salutes you before easing away. “I’ll keep that suggestion in mind. Congrats!”

“Thank you, kindly!” Tee calls back, but continues on further inside.

“But seriously, don’t ride Joe too hard,” Ja’Marr comments. 

“I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

“That’s fair. But I need you to convince him to come out with me. I’ll make sure he’s home by his bedtime.” It’s the last he says before Ja’Marr heads deeper now into the building, no doubt making his way towards the locker room. 

Other players wave as they pass, some slide in for a quick side hug. But it feels like an eternity has passed and still no Joe, until you spot the shadow of him following in behind Cam. You’re easing closer before you realize it, a step at a time until Joe’s right in front of you. 

“I’m fine. Promise.” It’s the first thing Joe says, like he can read the thoughts behind your head. 

His hair is damp with sweat, like the rest of him probably beneath the pads even in the cold Ohio afternoon. But you hold his face in your hands. “You guys played like mad men today. And I’m so incredibly proud. But I’m also shaking because I can’t stop seeing you stretched out on that field.”

“No, baby, none of that.” His cold fingers wrap around your wrists--an all too immediate reminder that he’s still here. That he’s upright, and walking. “I’m too tough for one hit.”

“Your dad said something similar.”

“He’s a smart guy,” Joe laughs. “Taught me everything I know. Walk with me, okay? Just walk with me.”

Joe feels massive in the pads, even as the two of you walk down the rest of the corridor, the gear makes you feel small next to him. His hand warms just a little, or maybe you just get used to the cold. But it’s not a terribly far walk before you take in what’s around you. The cameras that are most definitely pointed at you and Joe. 

“Give us a minute,” Joe commands, and it’s enough for the flashes and the lenses to turn tail. Even when he’s sure it’s mostly clear, Joe tucks you into a further corner, deeper and hopefully away from the press. Now, in the secluded corner, Joe’s grin turns a hair smug. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re worried about me.”

You squeeze at the hand still wrapped around yours. “You should know better.”

“If I need a note, I’ll get someone to write it. Signed by the doc and everything.”

“I just needed to see you. I don’t mean to interfere.” And you don’t. But you can’t shake the feeling that somewhere in Joe he’s not just fighting for a game. The icy look that was there just a few hours ago.

“No, you’re not interfering. But you are looking at me like you have something else you want to say.”

“Would your reason for how you played today have anything to do with what happened last week?”

“Honest answer?” 

“Honest answer,” you confirm. 

“It did. I realized that I want to come home to you as the best version of myself. Which means I have to do whatever it takes. Now, I can’t control how every game goes. I can’t force that outcome. But I’m doing everything that’s within my realm of control. Going to show up here on this field at my best every fucking time because it’s not just about me anymore. It's about you and us now.”

“You’ve always been one hell of a smooth talker, you know that.” 

“No,” Joe laughs, “I’m just being honest.’”

And he’s real, still whole in front of you. He wasn’t carted off. But you see even more of the man Joe’s become. Someone who’s not running away from accountability. “I love you.” You love the man he is, the man who he is becoming, the person who wants nothing more than your happiness.

His cheeks turn pink. The warmth of the air finally started to turn back to the low olive tone, but the tips of his ears go pink again too alongside his cheeks and you know that he’s just a tiny bit flustered. He ducks his head for just a second before looking back at you. “I love you more.”

“Burrow, I’m being nice because I like them, but let’s wrap it up.” It’s Coach Taylor’s voice booming down the hall. 

You can’t see past Joe, who’s body and pads block the way. But you can tell by the tone it’s urgent. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

“I gotta go, but I’ll see you back at home, okay?”

You nod. There’s two squeezes--one from Joe, one from you-- and he starts to pull away. “Ja’Marr’s going to ask you about going out. Just as a heads up.”

His groan echoes well before he starts the jog down to the locker room. “Only if I get to bring you as my hot date,” he shouts back at you. “Don’t make me suffer alone.”

And you won’t. You won’t let Joe suffer alone. That’s not a thing you’d ever do to Joe, as long as he’s yours and you're his. 

[axelsagewrites]

Aemond Targaryen*Poloraids

Pairing: modern! Aemond x f! Reader

Word count: 2373

Part Two at bottom

Warnings: nudes, talks of sex, phone sex, sex toys, nipple play, dom Aemond, slight bratting, teasing, smut 18+

A/n: wrote this on my notes app and posting on mobile cause I can't sleep so pls forgive formating errors till I can check on my laptop tomorrow but for now enjoy desperate Aemond phone sex

Masterlist here

You had only been apart from Aemond for a mere three weeks but in that time you missed him more than you could have imagined. He was off to his dream college while you packed up to go to your own dream school. Aemond would never even think of asking you to follow him or potentially ruin your dream and had insisted you would survive the distance.

He was only a four hour drive away but being in your freshman year you barely had time to sleep let alot drive four hours one way to see your boyfriend. Maybe after the first semester it would be easier but for now you had to be content with late night phone calls and the letters he sent.

Yes Aemond had insisted on writing letters. You both wrote a letter to each other the last night you spent together before he left for college and mailed it out to the others dorm. You usually got two, sometimes three letters a week and of course you always returned his mail.

While you kept each other up to date on life and school over the phone the letters were a more personal touch, romantic even. Aemond did his best to write you poety even if English was not his strong suit. You just new he was blushing as you read his poems all those miles away. He'd sometimes send small packages with the letters. This ranged from books he thought you'd like to a sweatshirt from his college that he had worn for a week and covered in his cologne.

You almaot made sure to put just as much love into your mail. Your letters rambled on for pages about what you missed about him and the life you would build after university. He'd gifted you a Polaroid camera and a stack of film before you had left and you made sure to include pictures of you in your dorm, your campus, and the sights around you. Aemond had sent you a snap of his desk set up with your poloraids pinned around his reminder board, a picture of you unpacking your dorm with a cheesy grin right beside where his laptop would sit.

However while you knew you would miss him you hadn't even thought about how much you'd miss his touch. And not just his hugs which always warmed your heart but for gods sake you had never been so horny. Your roommates boyfriend was only a building away and you were jealous every time she came back with hickeys covering her neck and mascara smudged under her eyes.

"Don't worry you'll see your precious Aemond eventually," Sara joked after you had admitted to you jealous states, "then he can fuck your brains out so you're not so tense,"

"I'm not tense," but you were. So fucking tense.

It was one night when you caught Sara taking suggestive pics out the corner of your eye did you get the idea. Your eyes fell to the poloraid camera on your desk. So far you had never sent Aemond any kind of explicit pictures like that. Sure you did your best to look good when you snapped him but he'd never asked for a nude and you had never thought of sending them. But maybe if you started it, like the mail, he would return the favour.

When Aemonds latest letter came in the mail Sara happened to be out the dorm and staying the night at her boyfriend jaces frat house. After reading the letter your eyes fell to the camera. You racked your mind for a few moments, wondering if the reason why Aemond had never asked was because he never wanted them. But what guy would turn that down, you wondered. Plus it wasn't like you and Aemond hadn't done stuff in the past. He was always sneaking into your house to get his hands all over you.

Fuck it, you thought. You quickly rummaged through your drawers, finding the few nice lingerie pieces you had brought with you before you settled into wearing Aemonds boxers and a sports bra religiously.

You quickly slid into the black lacey bra and thong set you had convinced yourself you would wear to a party for a confidence boost and never had. It had been one of Aemonds favourites before you left for college. You did your best to straighten the sheets and hide your clutter as you set up for the first photo.

You took a few moments trying to get into the perfect pose before snapping a picture of your chest, sticking your tits out to make them pop. And boy did they look good. When you saw them printed on the film you couldn't help the ego boost when you saw yourself dolled up. You moved the camera lower, taking a picture of your hips and thighs, twisting your body into the poses you'd seen on dirty magazines.

You took a couple more in that set, trying the recreate some tiktok recommended poses you'd seen, when you suddenly really started to feel yourself. You changed quickly into another set, a dark red body you had bought for the first time Aemond would visit you. You were sure he wouldn't mind you wearing it without him when he saw the results. This time you made sure to capture your ass perfectly, loving how it looked in the angles you tried.

Then came your last idea. Your eyes fell to the sweatshirt he had sent you. You quickly stripped off the lingerie and tugged on a more simple thong that still looked amazing on. You slipped into the hoodie, letting yourself emerse yourself in his smell. This time your pictures were you sat at your desk, set up as if you were studying but you lifted the camera to a high angle so he could see your bare thighs. Next you lifted the shirt, giving him a show of your underboob and waist. Then finally one last pic of you bent over the desk as if you were waiting for him.

As you snapped the last pic you heard Sara's key in the lock and quickly sprinter to jump under your covers, trying to look as innocent as possible as you put the printed Polaroids under the covers.

The next day you finished writing your letter and slipped in four of the nine poloraids you had taken. You made sure to sit them behind the letter in the envelope since you didn't need his roommate getting a private show. You posted the letter and did your best to act casual over the phone with Aemond but you couldn't help feel anxious about his reaction.

Two days later your phone rang as you were sat in bed finishing an essay on your laptop. "Hey baby," you greeted as you read over your list of spelling mistakes.

"Don't hey baby me," Aemond said, catching your attention and making you move your laptop to the side, "You think trying to tease me is funny?"

"Tease you-" you said as you sat up properly in bed trying to figure out what he meant when it hit you. "Did you get my letter?" you said not able to hide the smirk in your voice.

"Oh I got your letter alright darling," Aemond said darkly and you could just imagine him pacing his dorm room while his roommate was out. "and the pictures,"

"Did you like them?" you said with a light giggle as if you had been transformed back to the start of your relationship. "I thought you mightve been getting lonely over there. So far away," you said with a fake pout, loving the affects you had already had on them.

"Are you kidding me?" Aemond said with a dark chuckle, "You look positively fuckable in these doll. I don't know how I'm supposed to contain myself till I see you,"

You felt your stomach go light like butterflies were dancing in it at his words. "I've got more if you'd like," you said as you twirled your hair like a school girl.

"God's you really are a little minx aren't you?" Aemond groaned making you giggle, "You won't be so cocky when I get there. No you get all shy don't you? Like a good little girl,"

"Maybe I don't wanna be a good girl," you teased as you discarded the laptop onto your bedside table, moving to lay down as you spoke.

"You know what happens when you don't behave doll," Aemond warned in the same voice he used when he used to hold you by your jaw, forcing you to meet his eye.

"Whatcha gonna do about it?" you grinned as your hand searched your bottom drawer for the vibrator you had stashed away for nights like this where all you wanted was Aemonds touch. "You're not here to make me do anything,"

"Just you wait doll," Aemond said as you heard him crash down onto his bed, "When I'm there you'll regret being such a brat,"

"I don't believe you," you teased as you slipped the vibrator between your legs, slowly running it up and down your folds before it was even on.

Aemond was silent for a moment and you wondered how good he must look right now with that stern look on his face," You're touching yourself aren't you?" he said making your actions pause.

"No I'm-" you started to stutter out only to be interrupted by Aemonds chuckle.

"Oh baby girl you really are that desperate aren't you?" he said, his smirk evident in his voice, "trying to get off by just my voice. Bet you could as well love you're that desperate," you tried to argue but Aemond kept talking, "Turn it on doll. I know you're using that pretty little vibe of yours aren't you?"

"maybe," you said, your voice shaky as you reached for the button.

"So predictable," he chuckled, "God's you looked good when I would use that on you. Turn it on doll and go slow. I want you to earn it if you're gonna be such a tease,"

Even from so far away Aemond still had a control over you which made you switch the toy onto it's lowest setting and slowly run it up your folds, gasping as your ran it over your sensitive clit." that's a good girl, "Aemond praised when he heard your noises through the phone. "I'm just looking at these pics love," you heard him say as you moved the vibe to slowly circle around your clit, "Such pretty pictures," he said, "almost as good as the real thing. Almost because it won't be long till I bend you over that desk of yours. You'd like to that wouldn't you? Me fucking you over your desk in my sweetheart,"

"Yes," you whimpered but Aemond tutted over the phone.

"Yes what?"

"Yes sir," you correct yourself, moaning as you felt a knot bubbling in your stomach.

"Good girl," Aemond praised and you could swear you could hear him jerking off on the other end, "now turn up the vibe baby and slip it in,"

You whined but did as instructed, the soft silicone easily slipping into your wet pussy, "It's in," you said, your voice whiny.

"Good. Now tighten your thighs to hold it there. You're gonna need your hands love," he said, a slight groan in his voice as he stroked his member.

"Okay," you stuttered, doing as he said but also laying your phone next to your head on speaker, "now what sir?"

"Now I want you to squeeze those perfect tit's of yours," he said, his breathing more rugged, "they look so good in that red little number of yours. Can't wait to tear it off you,"

"Thank you sir," you moaned as you followed his instructions and wishing it was his hands.

"Now pinch those perky nipples of yours," Aemond said which you gladly complied with, rolling them between your fingers, "Miss kissing those perfect tit's of yours. Gonna cover them in hickeys next time I get my hands on them. Might even take a picture for good measure. You'd like that wouldn't you?"

"Yes sir," you whined as you felt your body start to jerk at your already approaching climax.

"You gonna cum baby?" Aemond asked, his breathing shaking as he approached his own edge.

"Yes," you whined, greatful your roommate had left for the night, "Please sir can I cum now please?"

"Fuck," Aemond gasped, "Yes baby cum for me. Be a good girl baby don't hide any of those pretty noises. Think I might just cum from hearing them," he said.

You couldn't even say anything else as your body began twitching, your legs shaking as you felt your orgasm rip through your body. You didn't try to hide your moans and it wasn't long till you heard Aemond mumbling curses and praise through the phone. "Fuck," Aemond gasped as he started to catch his breath.

"Did you..?" you asked, your voice trailing off.

"Yes darling," he said with uneven breath, "All over these pictures love. Is there any chance you could send some more?" he asked but this time his voice was far more shy.

You laughed lightly as you rolled onto your side, snuggling into your pillow now suddenly tired, "of course baby. How come you never asked before?"

"I didn't want you to think I'm some kind of pervert," Aemond confessed now far more sheepish than his sexy persona.

"You're not a pervert Aem, you're my boyfriend," you laughed, imagining how his cheeks would be flushing right now. "Of course I'll send some more baby you'll just need to be patient," you teased.

"I'm sick of being patient," Aemond groaned like a toddler who had been told no, "I'm driving up to see you Friday after class no questions, no excuses,"

"Aemy that's a long drive are you sure?" you asked, worried how he'd be able to get all his work done if he was so far from college.

"More than sure baby. I need to see you and besides. I have a few new ideas of what you could do with that camera,"

Part Two here

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila

[ayatai]

Gratitude

Comfy-vember Day 16 Prompt: Reading Aloud

The tavern door creaked open.

“Rufus, I told you already. It’s Sunday morning, we don’t open until later,” Liliana said. Did the man ever do anything but drink?

“Excuse me, but I’m looking for the owner.”

Liliana popped her head up from behind the counter where she’d been moving casks around. “That’s me.”

The sandy-haired man nodded. His official looking uniform was damp from the rain. “Liliana?”

She nodded, and he opened the bag he had slung over one shoulder and pulled out a large package. “I’m under explicit instructions to hand this to no one but you or your husband.”

The package was addressed to her and Alton, but she didn’t recognize the handwriting. Delivery via courier would have cost a good sum; she had no idea who would have spent that much to send them mail.

“You arrived on the ship this morning?” she asked.

“Yes, miss. I’ll be returning when she leaves port tomorrow, if you’d like to write a reply before then. All my expenses have all ready been covered, so no charge.”

“You need a room for tonight, then?”

“And meals, if possible.”

She nodded, still pondering the mystery package.

Ten minutes later, after setting the courier up with his room and breakfast, she cut the strings with her belt knife and carefully unwrapped the contents.

A pouch, well padded, jingled as she freed it from its wrappings. A second bundle proved to be a set of wooden tops, finely carved; meant, she assumed, for her son, Jadon. The last items were two envelopes closed with seals she also didn’t recognize. She broke the seal on one and pulled out the letter inside. She read the first few sentences, then hurried to the back door of their tavern, grinning.

“Alton! Take a break for a minute and come inside. You too, Grandma.”

Alton took one last swing at the log he’d been chopping despite the light drizzle, then set his ax down. He moved over to his wife and looked over her shoulder. “Who’s it from?”

“Just listen,” and she started reading out loud, struggling with some of the longer words.

To Liliana, Alton, Edith, and Jadon,

I hope this letter finds you all doing well; it’s been several months since I left Llewdor to try my luck in Daventry, and I imagine it will take a while more for it to reach you.

The voyage, as you warned, was doomed from the start; Reid had no intention of honoring our agreement. But his traitorous actions begot him nothing but misery; I escaped, along with a portion of his ill-gotten treasure.

You’ll find a pouch enclosed along with this letter; I’ve found it only fitting that you should be the recipients of said coins. Both for the years you were forced to endure his patronage, and your invaluable assistance and the incredible kindness you showed me.

In summary, I managed to arrive in Daventry in the end. The dragon is now dead, and to my astonishment and jubilation, I have reunited with my family at last. As I’m sure you’ll note from my signature below,

Liliana glanced further down at the signature; her eyes went wide.

Alton, who couldn’t read at all, became impatient. “Keep going! And what is this pouch he’s talking about?!”

“Shh!”

As I’m sure you’ll note from my signature below, it has been more than I ever could have imagined! But the real shock for me has been just how welcoming and accepting they have been. If ever you were concerned about my fate, you may well put those fears to rest.

My good fortune could never have come about without your aid. Forever grateful and in your debt,

Prince Alexander of Daventry

P.S. I’ve added a toy for Jadon as well; please give him my regards, though given his young age I’m unsure if he’ll remember me.

“I thought his name was Gwydion?” Edith asked, confused.

“That was the name Manannan called him,” Alton explained. To Liliana, he said, “He told us his real name right before he left, remember?”

Edith looked indignant. “And did you also know he was a prince and never told me?”

“No, no, he never mentioned that. If he even knew himself,” Liliana said. “Can you believe it? That sweet little slip of a boy!”

“Good for him; he deserves it,” Alton said.

Liliana handed him the pouch; while he and Edith opened it and gasped at the contents, Liliana broke the seal on the second, shorter letter, reading silently this time.

To the proprietors of the Port Bruce Tavern,

My son tells me you rendered him crucial aid at a time both he and my daughter were in peril. I cannot begin to express how thankful I am for your help in both saving their lives and in our son’s return. If you ever find yourself in Daventry, please know that you are welcome any time as our honored guests.

A most grateful mother,

Queen Valanice of Daventry

Her heart went out to this woman she had never met. Queen or not, she was a mother all the same; Liliana could not imagine how she would have managed if Jadon had been taken from her. Being turned into a cat was too good for that wretched wizard.

[missys-mansion-of-mistakes]

July 26th, 2024. Friday.

🌊 Today was good! I got a lot of things done I'd been meaning to do for weeks. I completed:

Looking at a list of programs that apply to my research and the information I'm presenting at the conference in 2 (!!!) weeks. Added it all to the spreadsheet I'm compiling.

Sending in an application to be on an organization's Board of Directors. I got an auto-reject because they got a lot of applications, but that's alright, I put it on my calendar to try again in 6 months.

I drafted the CF scholarship and, on a whim, just submitted it. It was kind've a bad essay but... I just wanted it done. Bad call, and I won't win the scholarship because of it, but that's OK. More writing practice earned and that helps.

Drafted the PC scholarship. This one was WAY hard. Required a brainstorm session with my boyfriend to even figure out what to write about. But I got an outline together, a first draft, and a 2nd draft too. Need to sleep on it though.

In exchange for all the above: skipped all my morning routines except relaxing for an hour. In that hour I wrote a letter to my boyfriend that I'm going to tuck in a book I send him on Monday. There's 2 books he bought when he was here with me that he wanted me to send him, and I'm buying him a copy of a book I think he'll really love too ("Seed to Dust"-- it's an amazing book!) I'm also sending him a sticker of a snail and a frog in a long-distance relationship... it's us!!

So yeah. Very productive with the one-off tasks.

💤 Very tired today. Need to transition fully back onto the looseleaf yerba instead of messing with the canned yerba-- the former of those is more medicinal, the other has like ~150mg caffeine per can. Not good. 💄 So, I was looking at getting myself more makeup/"beauty" supplies because of my new job. Now, I'm a girl who-- until recently-- would consider herself pretty butch. But as I've been trying to get into professionalism more, dressing better at work, etc, I've realized that I get a lot more positive attention when I dress way more femininely. This also plays into the oft-quoted statistic about how women who wear makeup are chosen way more often for promotions/job opportunities/whatever than women who don't. So I figured, since it seems I've finished taking the leap into wearing dresses, now was the time to take the leap into actual makeup.

Now, I have makeup already too. I have these things: foundation, sunscreen, moisturizer, highlighter. That's IT!

So when I mentioned offhandedly several weeks ago that a job in a fancy, rich town wanted to interview me, and I might need to learn makeup, a friend was shocked that I didn't even have a lipstick to speak of.

I ordered this mystery beauty box to fix that. No this isn't an advertisement, I just wanted to share because honestly this fixed my problem elegantly AND made me happy-- win-win!

Everything in the first picture is what I got in the box. 3 lipsticks, 2 eyeshadows, 2 lipliners, 1 eyeliner, 1 undereye highlighter, a bunch of brushes, a ton of spa stuff I'll have to convince myself to use, and more! Now I'll just have to experiment with them lol.

Anyway, yeah, it was pretty and I'm happy.

📦 My parents need help going through boxes in the garage tomorrow. I'll have to drive up home tomorrow morning to help. So, another couple days working on the laptop at their house. Let's see how productive I can be up there...

What has made you happy recently?

Sending happiness your way!!

[Photos: mystery box unpacked, my tie-dye envelope in front of my PC, tie-dye envelope and long-distance snail and frog sticker, mystery box still packaged up.]

[promethea-silk]

The familiar smell of old books and aging parchments hung in the air of the library within Highgate Manor, a place in which Cordelia often had found herself spending much of her time during her time growing up. It was the one corner of her old home that she recalled being able to hold herself up within to be able to escape the ever boresome lessons and droning commands of her mother and father.

Being here now, it felt empty and cold, lacking in that comfort she once so frequently sought after. Then again, the entire estate seemed to have that impression about it and yet, in spite of this, Cordelia reveled in the darkness that lingered there.

Soft clicks on the hardwood floors called her attention away from the spines of the books where her fingertips had been idly tracing over the intricacies of each one. "I trust Wren found you and things have been settled for Lady Cress?" Cordelia mused in question as she turned to address Tilly as she approached.

"Yes, M'lady, the gifts have been procured for her to deliver first thing as well as your bracelet packaged well and secured for travel." The red headed sprite of a hyur nodded pleasantly with hands folded in front of her.

"Good. Very good." The words were distant as she adjusted now to retrieve the large tome and documents, all that had been discovered in the past month or so regarding the details of her newfound lineage. Steel hues locked onto the book itself, her realization coming full force that she held no true connection to the relic and was entirely prepared to release it to its owner, where it belonged.

"I will be preparing to return to Gray Manor the day after tomorrow and once I hear word from Lady Cress that she is well and prepared to meet with me, we will do so. Please see that this, all of this, is settled and packed with my things discreetly and safely to travel once I am ready. There is a letter I also need to you send off to Master Blythe at your earliest convenience once I am through with it." And with that, she offered the items in hand over to Tilly slowly. Once within her grasp, the woman nodded yet again and briskly went about doing as she was asked.

Cordelia watched as her head of staff disappeared from sight before she turned to a small writing desk that was nestled by the window. Moving to take the seat there, she moved about some of the items, opening the ink well she had brought with her and set about dipping her quill within the dark pool. Penning the letter, she wrote each word with purpose and was defibrate with her tone as she offered affections and thoughts to the parchment. They were faint, hardly what one might find in a typical letter to a lover, but they were there. She still teetered on the edge of unsure on how to maneuver and navigate these waters, rough and cloudy as they were, but for the time being, the widow allowed herself to float amongst the waves of uncertainty to let the current take her - them - where it was meant to.

What she was certain of was that she was going to need support, whatever she could muster from those closest to her and it was becoming clear to her that Ricard had bled into that role whether on purpose or not. Taking a deep breath, she blew gently on the wet ink while pushing to stand, readying the letter to be handed off to be sent.

There had yet to be an instance that caused Cordelia Gray to shy from it, neither her ties to House Cress nor her unexpected connections to someone would change her ways now. Steadfast, she was prepared to face a new chapter head on, whatever that may bring.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Steve Brodner

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

April 18, 2024

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

APR 19, 2024

I will not spend the rest of 2024 focusing on Trump and the chaos in the Republican Party, but today it has been impossible to look away.

In Trump’s election interference trial in Manhattan, Judge Juan Merchan this morning dismissed one of the selected jurors after she expressed concern for her anonymity and thus for her safety. All of the reporters in the courtroom have shared so much information about the jurors that they seemed at risk of being identified, but Fox News Channel host Jesse Watters not only ran a video segment about a juror, he suggested she was “concerning.” Trump shared the video on social media.

The juror told the judge that so much information about her had become public that her friends and family had begun to ask her if she was one of the jurors. Legal analyst Joyce White Vance noted jurors’ fear for their safety was a concern normally seen only “in a case involving violent organized crime.”

Nonetheless, by the end of the day, twelve people had been chosen to serve as jurors. Tomorrow the process will continue in order to find six alternate jurors. 

It is a courtesy for the two sides at a trial to share with each other the names of their next witnesses so the other team can prepare for them. Today the prosecution declined to provide the names of their first three witnesses to the defense lawyers out of concern that Trump would broadcast them on social media. “Mr. Trump has been tweeting about the witnesses. We’re not telling them who the witnesses are,” prosecutor Joshua Steinglass said. 

Merchan said he “can’t blame them.” Trump’s defense attorney Todd Blanche offered to "commit to the court and the [prosecution] that President Trump will not [post] about any witness" on social media. "I don't think you can make that representation," Merchan said, in a recognition that Trump cannot be trusted, even by his own lawyers.

An article in the New York Times today confirmed that the trial will give Trump plenty of publicity, but not the kind that he prefers. Lawyer Norman L. Eisen walked through questions about what a prison sentence for Trump could look like.

Trump’s popular image is taking a hit in other ways, as well. Zac Anderson and Erin Mansfield of USA Today reported that Trump is funneling money from his campaign fundraising directly into his businesses. According to a new report filed with the Federal Election Commission, in February and March the campaign wrote checks totaling $411,287 to Mar-a-Lago and in March a check for $62,337 to Trump National Doral Miami.

Experts say it is legal for candidates to pay their own businesses for services used by the campaign so long as they pay fair market value. At the same time, they note that since Trump appears to be desperate for money, “it looks bad.”

Astonishingly, Trump’s trial was not the biggest domestic story today. Republicans in Congress were in chaos as members of the extremist Freedom Caucus worked to derail the national security supplemental bills that House Speaker Mike Johnson (R-LA) has introduced in place of the Senate bill, although they track that bill closely. 

The House Rules Committee spent the day debating the foreign aid package, which appropriates aid for Ukraine, Israel, and Taiwan separately. The Israel bill also contains $9.1 billion in humanitarian aid for Gaza and other countries. A fourth bill focuses on forcing the Chinese owners of TikTok to sell the company, as well as on imposing sanctions on Russia and Iran. 

At stake in the House Rules Committee was Johnson’s plan to allow the House to debate and vote on each measure separately, and then recombine them all into a single measure if they all pass. This would allow extremist Republicans to vote against aid to Ukraine, while still tying the pieces all together to send to the Senate. As Robert Jimison outlined in the New York Times, this complicated plan meant that the Rules Committee vote to allow such a maneuver was crucial to the bill’s passage.

The extremist House Republicans were adamantly opposed to the plan because of their staunch opposition to aid for Ukraine. They wrote in a memo on Wednesday: “This tactic allows Johnson to pass priorities favored by President Biden, the swamp and the Ukraine war machine with a supermajority of House members, leaving conservatives out to dry.”

Extremists Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-GA) and Thomas Massie (R-KY) vowed to throw House speaker Mike Johnson (R-LA) out of the speakership, but Democrats Tom Suozzi of New York and Jared Moskowitz of Florida have said they would vote to keep him in his seat, thereby defanging the attack on his leadership.

So the extremists instead tried to load the measures up with amendments prohibiting funds from being used for abortion, removing humanitarian aid for Gaza, opposing a two-state solution to the Hamas-Israel war, calling for a wall at the southern border of the U.S., defunding the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA), and so on.

Greene was especially active in opposition to aid to Ukraine. She tried to amend the bill to direct the president to withdraw the U.S. from NATO and demanded that any members of Congress voting for aid to Ukraine be conscripted into the Ukraine army as well as have their salaries taken to offset funding. She wanted to stop funding until Ukraine “turns over all information related to Hunter Biden and Burisma,” and to require Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelensky to resign. More curiously, she suggested amending the Ukraine bill so that funding would require “restrictions on ethnic minorities’, including Hungarians in Transcarpathia, right to use their native languages in schools are lifted.” This language echoes a very specific piece of Russian propaganda.

Finally, Moskowitz proposed “that Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene…should be appointed as Vladimir Putin’s Special Envoy to the United States Congress.” 

Many congress members have left Washington, D.C., since Friday was to be the first day of a planned recess. This meant the partisan majority on the floor fluctuated. Olivia Beavers of Politico reported that that instability made Freedom Caucus members nervous enough to put together a Floor Action Response Team (FART—I am not making this up) to make sure other Republicans didn’t limit the power of the extremists when they were off the floor.

The name of their response team seems likely to be their way to signal their disrespect for the entire Congress. Their fellow Republicans are returning the heat. Today Mike Turner (R-OH) referred to the extremists as the Bully Caucus on MSNBC and said, “We need to get back to professionalism, we need to get back to governing, we need to get back to legislating.” Derrick Van Orden (R-WI) told Juliegrace Brufke of Axios:  "The vast majority of the Republican Party in the House of Representatives...are sick and tired of having people who...constantly blackmail the speaker of the House.”

Another Republican representative, Jake LaTurner of Kansas, announced today he will not run for reelection. He joins more than 20 other Republican representatives heading for the exits.

After all the drama, the House Rules Committee voted 6–3 tonight to advance the foreign aid package to the House floor. Three Republicans voted nay. While it is customary for the opposition party to vote against advancing bills out of the committee, the Democrats broke with tradition and voted in favor.

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[ask-richard-jackdaw]

*a large package is delivered by a disgruntled snowy owl*

Richard,

In anticipation of Thursday, I wanted to send you some supplies. I brewed up some pepperup, wiggenweld and pain potions and invigoration draughts, just in case. I also packed some chocolates, for when you're once again able to enjoy food!

If you find yourself in want of company, or require help carrying supplies to the hotspots, do let me know.

Yours,

Elizabeth 🖤

My dear,

It's always a pleasure to humbly receive A letter from you on the rousing eve Of every Thursday when I am to turn I little more human: your presence to yearn.

It is true, Thursday is almost here and I've had such a wonderful time in the past month turning fully corporal once a week! I still hesitate to call it living since it is not permanent. I am, however, eternally grateful for even those fleeting moments I'm able to catch up on that which was stolen from me so early. 

I must admit, I haven't actually met many students yet because I keep getting distracted on my way to the castle. It's either having some nice food at a friend's place and forgetting the passage of time, or my employer catching me in human form and giving me tasks here and there (I almost paid off that broom!), or running around and trying to see if I can get any period-appropriate clothing. Or at least an extra Hogwarts cloak — I still look like a 7th-year student! My family paid for my education that unfortunate year I lost my head so teeechnically I should still be eligible to finish my final year at Hogwarts? I should be sorting out all manner of paperwork but instead I worry about the colour of the cloak I want to wear once a week!  

*Richard looks up from the letter to steal a glance at Elizabeth's portrait on the wall and then at the photos she took of him a while ago. His hair looks normal there but last Thursday when he examined himself in the mirror his hair still looked like ghost hair. No, it was not transparent but mostly white instead. Maybe ancient magic did not do it correctly that one time? Or maybe Richard focused too much on being a human and not on the details? But he rather liked that colour, perhaps because after decades of seeing himself as a ghost having white hair was in a way comforting. He would never admit to that, of course. Being human again terrifies him: if the papercuts taught him anything it's that his body is very much mortal. The topic of death starts becoming more and more unsettling to him as a result.*

I just looked at what you sent me and... Do you even know how wonderful and thoughtful you are? I will have to make sure to remind you of this every time I get the chance. I think the drawbacks of being in the land of the living are here to stay but at the very least now I do not have to be aware of that misery. You spent so much of your time just to brew those potions for me and I am forever in your debt! 

And chocolate! Believe it or not, but I haven't had any chocolate yet, yours would be the first few pieces I've had in ages! Thank you! 

*Richard whines a little looking at the sweets: he could almost taste her chocolate but he knows that it's just his memory acting up and he cannot actually taste anything. Still, the thought of trying them tomorrow warmed his undead heart.*

I think the potions will stay here in my secret room for now since I start feeling tired and sick closer to the end of the day. That way I can just stop by if I feel like I need some more energy. My Scribe managed to find some pillows and a blanket for my sofa last time so that pain relief potion will come in rather handy when the night falls: it'll actually allow me to fall asleep without feeling like my body is falling apart. At least I hope it wor 

And I most certainly would love to visit some more people! If I don't get distracted by food again. Or fall off my broom again. I've also been dreading of going to the Olivander's to get a new wand... I feel so silly not being a ghost and only being able to cast basic wandless magic things... 

Anyway, I hope our paths do cross tomorrow. Your potions will literally be guarding my sleep in the night. As for you being their creator, does that make you my... guardian angel? If it is not the case then I must assure you: you are a very talented, kind, and thoughtful witch, and I would choose your company over that of even the most beautiful of angels — for your beauty is the one I wish to behold not only with my own eyes but with my heart as well.

Yours forever grateful,

Richard

[bvannn]

Weekly update August 30, 2024

Man I was so productive this week I did so much it’s great! I’m tired and all that but not as much as I expected, I got a pretty much free weekend in front of me, and I think I might have Monday off too (not 100% sure yet though so I’m not making any plans until I know for sure). I’m hoping I can keep it up into next week too, but wouldn’t be surprised if some bad luck hits me down.

I finished up a (mostly) instrumental piece today, it’s as done as it’s getting and I’m queueing that up for tomorrow. RR is also basically done, I might fiddle with some audio effects a touch more but otherwise it’s good to get a video together. I’ll outline what I need to draw for that tonight or tomorrow morning. Between that and another one I have planned for a mostly finished cover (WOTW), I’d like to try and get one video done by Halloween, so I’m going to try to dedicate more time to animation. The little ones I did before artfight were pretty quick so I hope I’ll be able to get enough done.

Oh also forgot to mention: I buy the bullet and got the Vocaloid mobile editor. Gotta play around with online converters to get midi into the format it needs to be and onto my phone, but it works fine. Bad news is: the ZOLAs are sold separately? The whole reason I wanted to stick with them was because they’re a package! They are still cheap at least, nd still some of the better sounding male voices so I might grab them eventually anyway, but for now I’mma stick with Mizki, and send the vsqx to friends if I want to export with the ZOLAs or Kagamines. I’m also tempted to grab Miku since she’s cheaper than everyone else on mobile for some reason, but I’ll see how Mizki sounds for now. I don’t know what the differences between the ‘light’ and full versions are, but so far she’s getting by.

Comic was also the big thing this week, Page 9 just needs textures and shading and lettering and it’s all good to go, which I plan to do tonight, whereupon the comic will be 31% done! I’m also planning to take bigger bites out of that while I’m still not so tired, hopefully it lasts a while.

Epithet Erased TTRPG is going good, got maps planned and more statblocks done, applied the math I did and have a good base for how much stamina everything needs to have so I can just sit down and plow through the rest once I’m ready. Only got one character token done this week, and it took longer than anticipated so I do need more practice with the EE style, but it can chip away at that over the weekend if we end up getting Monday off. I’ll probably decide to do the maps first though. If maps don’t take super long I’ll try to hammer out the rest of what I need for the campaign soon too.

Yeah not a lot to show off this week but I did a lot. And I get a long weekend to do even more. This feels like the save room before a really hard boss, but I’ll take advantage of it and release what I can soon. Song tomorrow is the biggest thing, hopefully it goes over well even though it’s an unpopular genre!

[memesandtvshowthings]

The interviewer- a Dramione fanfic

Chapter one!

Author’s note: This is seven years after the war. Hermione is working at the ministry of magic in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in her case, the Anti-overthrow office which was established after the war to prevent the ministry from ever being overthrown again. Her job is to interview new businesses and make sure they aren’t planning anything against the ministry. 

There are a lot of pictures too! But only of the rooms, outfits, and other random things. I’m going to let you imagine the people yourselves. (Because I hate it when people show me what they’re supposed to look like!)

Hermione is 24 and Draco is… 23? Look it up. My math ain’t mathing right now!

That’s all I have for now, so, enjoy!

            September 21, 2005

Hermione’s house 

Hermione woke up to the sound of her alarm clock ringing.

(Her bedroom)

She quickly turned it off, got up, and went to her kitchen. She had a nice house. A little big, but, whatever floats your boat. 

(Her kitchen) 

She quickly made some coffee and buttered some toast. 

Once she finished, she washed her dishes and sat down on the couch to read. It was her day off so she decided to relax. 

(Her living room!)

A few minutes later, there was a tap on her window. She looked up and saw an owl. 

“Hello.” She said, opening the window for it. 

It held out its leg for her to untie, took a treat from her, and left. Once she sat back down, she read the letter.

Dear Ms. Granger,

I just wanted to let you know that tomorrow when you come in don’t bother going to your office. I need you in my office because I have arranged a meeting with the owner of a new company and I need you to interview him. I will give you more details tomorrow.

Sincerely,

                                       Kingsley Shacklebolt-                    

                                          Minister of Magic  

She reread the letter to make sure she understood it all and then put it down. 

“I wonder what business it is.” She said to herself. And picked her book back up. 

Draco’s house

Draco woke up to his alarm clock but turned it right back off. It was Saturday, he wasn’t getting up till he had to.

(His room!)

Once he finally got up, he flicked his wand to make up is bed, stumbled into the kitchen, and sat down.

(His kitchen!)

Even after an hour of extra sleep, he was still exhausted. Starting and running a business was harder than he thought. Once he ate breakfast (Ham and Eggs) he went into the living room.

(His living room!)

He sat down and picked up his coffee, thinking about random things. There was a peck at the window so Draco got up, already knowing it was an owl, and untied the letter. Opening it he read,

Dearest Draco,

Hello! I was just wondering if you would like to join me for lunch? Please respond!

Love,

         Pansy

He rolled his eyes. He had been getting the same letter every Saturday since his father had passed. He had only accepted the first time because he thought it was just a friendly gesture. Turns out, she only wanted his money. So he had declined making up an excuse every time since then. But today he just wrote, 

No.

And that was it. He was too exhausted to think of an excuse. 

Hermione’s house 

Hermione woke up with a jolt. Her stomach felt like it was burning. 

“Gosh, I’m hungry!” She said to herself. She looked at the time, 1:30, and made some lunch. Once she finished, she decided to sit on her porch. 

(Her porch!)

So she went outside and right as she was about to sit down she saw a package by her door. She went to pick it up wondering who would have sent her this. Opening it she saw a note that said,

Hey Hermione!

Sorry I didn’t send this by owl, it was too big! I hope you like it and Happy Birthday!

Love,

         Ginny

She opened the box and found a beautiful red lace dress.

(The dress!)

She couldn’t help but gasp when she saw it. It was…Perfect! She couldn’t wait for an opportunity to wear it.

Draco’s house

Draco woke up to Blaise Zabini tapping his shoulder 

“Hey mate, wake up!” He said.

Draco grunted and said, 

“I regret giving you a key.”

“Whatever. C’mon, let’s go somewhere!”

“I’m to tired.”

“Aww! Come on! We can go to lunch… on me.”

Draco immediately got up saying.

“I’ll be ready in five.”

Blaise just  laughed and sat down to wait.

Draco came back with a green sweater and jeans.

(His outfit!)

“Alright, where are we going?”

Ok! That was chapter one! Stay tuned to my page for more!

[hermioneneedsdraco]

The interviewer

(Keep in mind that this is my first fanfic ever!)

Author’s note: This is seven years after the war. Hermione is working at the ministry of magic in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in her case, the Anti-overthrow office which was established after the war to prevent the ministry from ever being overthrown again. Her job is to interview new businesses and make sure they aren’t planning anything against the ministry. 

There are a lot of pictures too! But only of the rooms, outfits, and other random things. I’m going to let you imagine the people yourselves. (Because I hate it when people show me what they’re supposed to look like!)

Hermione is 24 and Draco is… 23? Look it up. My math ain’t mathing right now!

That’s all I have for now, so, enjoy!

            September 21, 2005

Hermione’s house 

Hermione woke up to the sound of her alarm clock ringing.

(Her bedroom)

She quickly turned it off, got up, and went to her kitchen. She had a nice house. A little big, but, whatever floats your boat.

(Her kitchen) 

She quickly made some coffee and buttered some toast. 

Once she finished, she washed her dishes and sat down on the couch to read. It was her day off so she decided to relax. 

(Her living room!)

A few minutes later, there was a tap on her window. She looked up and saw an owl. 

“Hello.” She said, opening the window for it. 

It held out its leg for her to untie, took a treat from her, and left. Once she sat back down, she read the letter.

Dear Ms. Granger,

I just wanted to let you know that tomorrow when you come in don’t bother going to your office. I need you in my office because I have arranged a meeting with the owner of a new company and I need you to interview him. I will give you more details tomorrow.

Sincerely,

                                       Kingsley Shacklebolt-                    

                                          Minister of Magic  

She reread the letter to make sure she understood it all and then put it down. 

“I wonder what business it is.” She said to herself. And picked her book back up. 

Draco’s house

Draco woke up to his alarm clock but turned it right back off. It was Saturday, he wasn’t getting up till he had to.

(His room!)

Once he finally got up, he flicked his wand to make up is bed, stumbled into the kitchen, and sat down.

(His kitchen!)

Even after an hour of extra sleep, he was still exhausted. Starting and running a business was harder than he thought. Once he ate breakfast (Ham and Eggs) he went into the living room.

(His living room!)

He sat down and picked up his coffee, thinking about random things. There was a peck at the window so Draco got up, already knowing it was an owl, and untied the letter. Opening it he read,

Dearest Draco,

Hello! I was just wondering if you would like to join me for lunch? Please respond!

Love,

         Pansy

He rolled his eyes. He had been getting the same letter every Saturday since his father had passed. He had only accepted the first time because he thought it was just a friendly gesture. Turns out, she only wanted his money. So he had declined making up an excuse every time since then. But today he just wrote, 

No.

And that was it. He was too exhausted to think of an excuse. 

Hermione’s house 

Hermione woke up with a jolt. Her stomach felt like it was burning. 

“Gosh, I’m hungry!” She said to herself. She looked at the time, 1:30, and made some lunch. Once she finished, she decided to sit on her porch. 

(Her porch!)

So she went outside and right as she was about to sit down she saw a package by her door. She went to pick it up wondering who would have sent her this. Opening it she saw a note that said,

Hey Hermione!

Sorry I didn’t send this by owl, it was too big! I hope you like it and Happy Birthday!

Love,

         Ginny

She opened the box and found a beautiful red lace dress.

(The dress!)

She couldn’t help but gasp when she saw it. It was…Perfect! She couldn’t wait for an opportunity to wear it.

Draco’s house

Draco woke up to Blaise Zabini tapping his shoulder 

“Hey mate, wake up!” He said.

Draco grunted and said, 

“I regret giving you a key.”

“Whatever. C’mon, let’s go somewhere!”

“I’m to tired.”

“Aww! Come on! We can go to lunch… on me.”

Draco immediately got up saying.

“I’ll be ready in five.”

Blaise just  laughed and sat down to wait.

Draco came back with a green sweater and jeans.

(His outfit!)

“Alright, where are we going?”

[shiningwonderland]

Cecil Aijima (Repeat)

Translator: Raz (Twitter: agnadance)

Proofreader: Sera (Twitter: serayagami)

Editors: Melanie (Twitter: melabonbon), Plaid (Twitter: cecillovemail)

QA: Rei: (Twitter: wolfe_raine)

June — Turn your Excitement into an A capella

It’s now June, the rainy season.

After I wake up, I check the date on my alarm clock to find that it's definitely June.

Haruka Nanami: June…

No matter how many times I look, nothing changes. It was April just two days ago. That means tomorrow is… July. 

A whole school term will end in an instant. Even though I finally got into Saotome Academy...

And I had decided to work so hard to become a professional composer…

Originally, I was supposed to go to school for just one year, but a sixth of it has already passed.

Time keeps slipping away and I can’t do anything about it… 

I have to do something… As quickly as possible…

Thunk.

I hear a sound from my mailbox.

Haruka Nanami: A package?

My cell phone won’t even connect…

The day Satan possessed the principal, the entirety of Saotome Academy was blocked off from the rest of the world.

Phones won’t connect and an invisible wall prevents us from going outside. I can’t even get in contact with my parents.

Cecil theorized that the principal had probably placed a barrier around the school before attempting to summon the goddess of music and that that was why the school is closed off from the outside world.

This was to prevent the worst-case scenario from happening in case he summoned something bad.

I think the barrier is working. However, Satan’s power is so strong that the outside world is also being influenced by his power.

Even so, to think that he put up a barrier beforehand… The principal really is amazing. He thought out all possible outcomes.

Maybe if I hadn’t been there and it had only been the principal, then maybe he would have been able to do something…

I have to keep trying…

Anyway, I need to collect the music sheets as quickly as possible and seal Satan.

Haruka Nanami: But before that, I have to see what I got in the mail.

I fearfully open the post box lid.

There's an envelope inside.

Haruka Nanami: I wonder who this is from? Maybe this is from Hyuga-sensei or Ittoki-kun…

I cut open the envelope.

But there is something unexpected inside the envelope…

Dear Haruka Nanami-sama,

I love you!

I can’t forget the first day I met you

and my heart keeps pining for you.

For so many nights, I haven’t been able to sleep.

These passionate urges keep piercing my heart.

My heart keeps screaming, "I want you!"

I can’t hold it in anymore.

If this letter reaches you,

then wait for me under the legendary apple tree.

I don’t want you to come with anybody.

Just come by yourself…

I will be waiting for you here

no matter how long it takes,

I'll be waaaiting~!

— Tokiya Ichinose

  Uuuuum…

Select the Phrase!

ラブレター？ Love letter? (+5 Love +0 Music)

It sure looks like one… But maybe it could be one of those pranks where it’s supposed to look like a love letter.

We haven’t even met each other that often; it doesn’t make sense that he would send me such a passionate letter.

On top of that, I’ve never received a love letter in my entire life.

I’m not even sure if this is supposed to be a love letter.

Kuppuru: This is a… trap. This letter… I feel Satan’s presence from it…

Kuppuru peeks at the letter as he spoke.

Kuppuru: You shouldn’t go.

He looks at me with a serious gaze.

Select the Phrase!

だったらなおさら If that’s so, then I should definitely go. (+25 Love +0 Music)

Haruka Nanami: I have to save him…

Kuppuru: Is that so... You have a point... But, you have feelings for…

Haruka Nanami: What?

Kuppuru: No… it’s nothing… 

Kuppuru: I can’t let you go alone. I will go with you.

Haruka Nanami: But… The letter said to come alone…

Kuppuru: I won’t let you go!! I don’t want to… let you go… Haruka… please kiss me…

He looks at me with pitiful eyes.

Select the Phrase!

止めないで Don’t stop me. (+25 Love +5 Music)

Kuppuru: You are kind, so I knew you would say that. But I don’t want to let you go.

Kuppuru: There is probably no reason… for this impulse. I’m just scared… That’s all…

Kuppuru: Please let me go with you… not in this form, but as Cecil. I want you to let me be at your side… Please… I beg of you…

Haruka Nanami: But… If I kiss you, Cecil-san won’t let me go. I’m sorry!

I turn my back to Kuppuru and run away.

There might be a chance that I can save him. I can't just ignore him!

Haruka Nanami: I wonder if Ichinose-san... is waiting for me...

When I arrive where the letter said to meet up, who I see isn't Ichinose-san but HAYATO-sama...

Haruka Nanami: Eh... HAYATO...sama... Why are you here?

HAYATO: That's... well... I... Tokiya Ichinose... am HAYATO himself.

I hear a loud gust.

A strong wind blows through and rustles our hair and clothes.

Haruka Nanami: The one... and the same? That... can't be... you're different people... You said that yourself...

HAYATO: Yes, I had to give you that excuse. I was hiding who I really was because it would’ve been bad if everyone knew.

Haruka Nanami: Is that… true…?

HAYATO: Yes. HAYATO is me. And HAYATO is the one you love.

HAYATO: Isn’t that so, Haruka Nanami-san?

HAYATO-sama smirks.

He never made such a wicked smile on TV…

HAYATO-sama… Is this Satan’s curse as well? I want him to return to normal as quickly as possible.

Haruka Nanami: … HAYATO-sama is…

Select the Phrase!

アイドルです An idol. (+0 Love +5 Music)

Haruka Nanami: HAYATO-sama sings and dances, and just seeing that brings me so much joy. He is just that amazing of an idol.

HAYATO-sama’s smile is like the sun, and…. And he has never made such a sinister face before…

Haruka Nanami: … so HAYATO-sama is Ichinose-san, and Ichinose-san is HAYATO-sama…

So the person in front of me is HAYATO-sama, and also Ichinose-san…

My mind goes blank with confusion.

HAYATO: You love HAYATO. Isn’t that true?

He places his hands on my shoulders from behind and whispers in my ear.

Haruka Nanami: Eh… uh... um…

HAYATO: Haruka-chan, I love you!

Haruka Nanami: ...!!!

H-HAYATO-SAMA!!!

W-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-what do I do!?

I need to calm down. Th-this is just a curse… Satan’s… the principal…

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

HAYATO: I want you to accept this. My love…

L-love!? Nonono. Nope! Nope!!! This is straight out of a dream!!

HAYATO: Why…? My love for you is deeper than music. Love me… more than music…

W-w-w-why? B-because… Ichinose-san is the S-class’s top student and…

He is an amazing person whose music and performance are perfect. HAYATO-sama is an extremely popular idol.

I-I’m just a failure of a student... And…

Ichinose-san would never say anything like this. He’s so cool, even when female students talk to him, he doesn’t give them special treatment.

He is more sincere about music than anybody… So… This is wrong… this is just wrong…

HAYATO: Now… I will become one with you…

His lips slowly approach mine.

Haruka Nanami: Uh... um…!!

I… I can’t!!

This is wrong. This isn’t how he really is. I don’t like this…

I love HAYATO-sama. I’ve always looked up to him, but this is so wrong.

Aaah… But I can’t look away. My body won’t move…

W-why?? Is this... Satan’s curse?

Kuppuru: Get away from her!!

Suddenly, Kuppuru lunges at Ichinose-san.

He then swiftly jumps onto my shoulder and comes close to my face…

Haruka Nanami: Ah… no…! Mm...!

He kisses me.

Cecil Aijima: I won’t let you have her!

Cecil-san blocks me with his shoulder to protect me.

... Cecil-san, is he angry?

Cecil-san is always so gentle, but now he is making such a scary face.

HAYATO: You won’t let me have her, you say…? I don’t think you have any say in the matter, though.

HAYATO: However, you got in the way… Just a little bit more and I would have…

HAYATO: You and her… Nanami-kun’s contract… If she were to kiss anyone else, that contract of yours would break, am I correct?

The contract would break with a kiss? Does that mean he was trying to break the contract between me and Cecil-san?

Haruka Nanami: The contract… would break?

HAYATO: Ahh, you didn’t know, did you? I said too much… But you cannot resist my kiss.

HAYATO: Your face earlier… You were unmistakably desiring me… HAYATO…

HAYATO: Yes, isn’t that right? Haruka-chan.

BA-DUMP!!

I know. I know he’s brainwashed by Satan, but…

Whenever HAYATO-sama smiles at me, my heart leaps out of my chest!

B-but a kiss… That moment, I faltered.

Even though I love and look up to HAYATO-sama so much, I…

Cecil Aijima: Silence! I won’t let you speak any further. She is my… my only… soulmate. My eternal Mana.

HAYATO: You seem desperate. You even look a bit pitiful to me. Ah, I see now.

HAYATO: How about we compete to see who can make her heart flutter first? We will see who can passionately romance her... Who would be loved…

HAYATO: Let’s have her decide herself. If you both really love each other, then my words shouldn’t reach her.

HAYATO: Isn’t that right? Or do you not have any confidence? You’re her so-called soulmate.

Cecil Aijima: Urgh…!!!

U-um… wait… What is he trying to start here?

A competition to make my heart flutter?

W-what!!

Ichinose-san is HAYATO-sama, he’s so admirable and…

Cecil-san is… Cecil-san is… my…

HAYATO: Then I will go first.

He stands between me and Cecil-san and grabs me by the arm and pulls me towards his chest.

Haruka Nanami: Eh…!?

HAYATO: Hey, do you remember the first day we met? You called me HAYATO-sama.

Ah… That’s right, I saw Ichinose-san at the entrance ceremony and mistook him for HAYATO-sama.

B-but, at that time he said he was his twin, but he really is the one and the same.

But why? HAYATO-sama is already an idol.

Why would he want to become an idol again…?

HAYATO: I pretended to be calm then, but I was actually flustered. You were just so cute.

Haruka Nanami: C-cute!!! I-I-I’m not that cute at all! Aaah, I’m so happy even if you’re just saying that!

Wait, noooo!

This is Satan’s curse and the actual person isn’t thinking that at all! There’s no way he’s thinking that!

I have to run away. I… My heart can’t take it.

But… When Ichinose-san looks at me, my head gets all fuzzy and my body becomes limp.

Is this the charm of a super idol? I can’t… run away…

Aaaaaaah… I know that I have to resist… But...

HAYATO: I knew you liked HAYATO from the start. I always wanted to gaze upon you.

HAYATO: The moment I saw you, I fell in love.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! H-HAYATO-sama… This can’t be real…

N-now he looks like HAYATO-sama but HAYATO-sama is Ichinose-san and…

Ichinose-san is usually very calm and would never say something like that…

Ah, but, HAYATO-sama… He is everybody’s idol and would say this on TV for fan-service…

My head explodes.

My brain… short-circuits... Smoke billows from my head…

Right at that moment…

Cecil-san puts his hand on my shoulder and pulls me away from Ichinose-san. Then…

Cecil Aijima: Haruka. My sweetheart. You are my light.

Cecil-san kneels before me and takes my hand.

Cecil Aijima: You give me a reason to live. You are my entire life. Please give me your love…

He kisses the back of my hand and looks at me with watery eyes.

So… So lovely…

Once he does that, Ichinose-san hugs me from behind.

HAYATO: You… Only you understand my loneliness. I want to push the boundaries of music. I cannot sing earnestly unless it is your music.

HAYATO: Haruka… Save me… Please release me from this darkness.

He whispers in my ear, releases his hold, and looks at me straight on.

HAYATO: Only you can do that. So please… I love you.

There is sincerity in his eyes. I don’t really feel like he’s lying to me.

He is in pain. He is stricter on himself than anybody else and he deeply loves music more than anybody else.

Such a person is pleading for me to save him. If I could help him, I would, but…

HAYATO: So… kiss me…

Ichinose-san closes his eyes and his lips draw closer.

I-I’m going to be kissed at this rate…

Cecil Aijima: You can’t…

Suddenly Cecil’s arm reaches out and holds onto me.

Cecil Aijima: Don’t be fooled by him… He is fake… He’s not his true self.

Haruka Nanami: But… What should I do…

Cecil Aijima: Convey your feelings in song.

Select the Phrase!

そうか音楽なら…  I see. If it’s music… (+25 Love +5 Music)

When I say that, Cecil-san smiles.

Cecil Aijima: Let’s release him. If his love for music is real, there is something better than words to convey your feelings.

Cecil Aijima: You, too… together…

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes.

Speak not words but sing love from the heart.

To convey with “music.”

We meld our voices and sing together.

It’s so mysterious; this is the first time we've sung together, but our voices meld so well that it feels nice. It even feels nice.

It doesn’t feel awkward at all. The pleasurable harmony passes through my ears and reaches into my heart. 

When we finish, Ichinose-san applauds us.

His eyes are still blank, and only his hands are moving stiffly.

HAYATO: Song… the true... It touches my heart… … music… this is… song… Song’s… true quality… I…

Ichinose-san is wavering? Maybe Satan’s curse on him is breaking.

Haruka Nanami: Ichinose-san! ... HAYATO-sama! I love your music!

Haruka Nanami: You are always so direct and you pursue music so seriously. Isn’t that true?

Haruka Nanami: If that’s not true, there’s no way you can sing that way! Let’s… take back our songs! You can’t be defeated by Satan!

Haruka Nanami: If this keeps up, music will disappear from our world. Are you okay with that?!

HAYATO: Song… music… Once more… Ah… AAAAAAARGH!

Ichinose-san screams with all his might. He is probably fighting the evil in his heart.

Then… A black cloud emerges from Ichinose-san’s body and disappears.

HAYATO: Ha… ha… ha… I… cannot throw music away… I have to… take music back…

Cecil Aijima: Haruka. Now is the time.

Haruka Nanami: Yes!

Cecil-san and I put our hands together and place them over Ichinose-san’s chest.

Cecil Aijima: Muse, give us your blessing…

Haruka Nanami: The melody of the wandering goddess.

Cecil Aijima: Show us your true form!

A swirl of light overflows from Ichinose-san’s body and takes form.

Musical notes of light float in the air.

The musical notes line up and shine brightly.

A sheet of music takes form.

HAYATO: A music sheet… What is this? What was I doing right up until now…

Haruka Nanami: Thank goodness, the curse broke.

HAYATO: Curse? Wha— Why am I wearing HAYATO’s outfit…

Haruka Nanami: Um… you were cursed by the king of the demons, Satan.

HAYATO: … I see. A curse you say… That is illogical, but it seems like it’s the truth.

We explain the situation to Ichinose-san, lead Ichinose-san to the secret base where Ittoki-kun is, and return to the dorms.

Haruka Nanami: I’m glad… we obtained the music sheet.

Even though we managed to retrieve the second music sheet, Cecil-san looks displeased and hangs his head.

Haruka Nanami: Cecil... san.

I look at Cecil-san’s face and he suddenly embraces me.

Cecil Aijima: You are… You are my one and only soulmate.

Cecil Aijima: My irreplaceable, one and true, honest love.

Haruka Nanami: U-um… the competition is over…

Cecil Aijima: That’s not it! I’m serious... I really, truly…

Cecil Aijima: I won’t let anybody touch you. I love you so much it’s maddening.

Cecil Aijima: Please do not let your lips touch anybody else’s but mine.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, yes, if the contract breaks, that would be a problem… I will be more careful from now on.

Cecil Aijima: No… that’s… not what I meant… If your lips were taken by somebody else… My heart would be torn asunder and I would perish.

His arms tighten around me. Cecil-san embraces me tightly, as if he's clinging to me.

Haruka Nanami: Cecil-san…

Cecil Aijima: … I’m sorry… I… got distressed…

Cecil Aijima: The way you laid your eyes on him… I couldn’t bear to watch… So I forcefully kissed you.

Cecil Aijima: Even though I decided to wait for you… and not kiss you until you loved me back… I could not contain my urge.

Cecil Aijima: I’m… so sorry. You were so against kissing him as well.

Cecil Aijima: I did the same thing to you. I am… deeply sorry.

As he says that, he sheds many tears.

Haruka Nanami: Eh!? U-um… don’t cry… It’s fine…

Haruka Nanami: I'm... not used to kissing, so I don’t want to do it so casually but… I’m not mad, considering the situation.

Cecil Aijima: Really…?

Haruka Nanami: Yes. You were trying to save me that time…

Cecil Aijima: Haruka… Thank you. My beloved. My sweetheart.

Haruka Nanami: Cecil-san…

It’s been three days since I met Cecil-san. Why does this person love me so much?

While I am fascinated by him, I have difficulty gauging how much distance to put between us.

Mini Game

After yesterday’s pop quiz, Hyuga-sensei told me, “Do this when you have time,” and handed me a CD with a program for learning how to write lyrics.

There was a memo attached to the CD that said, “Even though it’s rough right now, try your best.”

Haruka Nanami: … Sensei, thank you. I will use this as best as I can.

Haruka Nanami: Let’s see… “Complete the lyrics to the following song,” it says.

I have never written lyrics before. So I am a bit nervous… I wonder if I can do it…

Haruka Nanami: Ah, I don’t have to write all of it. If that’s the case, maybe I can do it.

Haruka Nanami: Okay, I’ll give it a try.

S Rank

Cecil Aijima: A thousand words do not compare to one, single song. Your composition and your heart’s voice—I can’t help but love everything about you.

He nimbly reaches his arms around me from behind and embraces me.

Haruka Nanami: Ce... Cecil-san…

Since when…? I was so engrossed in the lyrics that I didn’t notice him.

I wonder if Cecil-san writes lyrics? I’ll ask him later.

Chapter End

[spaciousreasoning]

Out With the Camera

There were only clouds in the forecast today, with a morning low of 43 degrees and a high of only 51. In fact, the rain was supposed to be absent from today through Tuesday. Turns out, it showed up throughout much of the afternoon.

My blood sugar was up to 176 this morning. It’s going to take a lot better work on the diet end of things to get back in good shape, glucose-level-wise.

Nancy and I had our coffee and played the Saturday edition of the brain games. Once again, NYT History Quiz for today contained three items dated from years BCE. That doesn’t happen all that often.

We almost ran out of cream using it for our coffee, so for breakfast we had to go with something besides oatmeal. So we did cheesy eggs, bacon and toast with jam. We discovered an excellent brand of bacon recently at Market of Choice, and we continue to be pleased with the taste. Both freshly cooked and warmed up later. We cooked up the whole package to save time for our future bacon needs.

In the mail today, I received a new card from the credit union. It allows me to tap to pay. Finally! It’s for the credit card, not the debit card. The credit line is limited, but I generally pay it off almost as soon as I use it. Nice of the credit union to send it out.

Because the forecast said there would be no rain, Nancy and I decided to go back out to Sweet Cheeks Winery. I wanted to take some pictures that we missed when we were there on Thursday. Mostly because it was raining. But also because all I had with me that day was my phone, not my camera.

We took a new route out to the winery, and by the time we got there it was sprinkling. Not too much. I was able to get a number of pictures of the vineyards as well as some of a group of wild turkeys that were present. When we were done at Sweet Cheeks, we went across the road to the Silvan Ridge Winery, drove up to their building, took a few pictures, and then headed back the direction we had come. For part of the way.

We stopped a couple of times so I could take pictures of teasels, and there was a Lutheran church that also caught my eye. By then, the rain had gotten heavier, so we headed home. We stopped at Albertsons for a few groceries, then swung by Old Crow at the corner to get a hot mocha to take home.

While Nancy lay down for a nap, I spent time recreating a poster displaying a variety of Nazi-related symbols that are used in place of the swastika these days. I had to do a bit of research to figure out a few of the symbols. Most were already familiar to me. The only questionable symbol was the number “92.” There was nothing in the Anti-Defamation League’s database that matched that. In keeping with some of the other numbers used (88, 18) I tried matching it with letters from the alphabet, but IB did not turn up anything either. I’ll keep an eye out. Given the fascist tendencies in evidence these days, something is bound to show up.

For dinner I suggested we could go out, but Nancy wanted to stay close to home, because her hip was giving her problems. Since we had bought a package of orange chicken, we cooked that up, along with a fresh pot of rice. We fried a bunch of zucchini slices, then covered them with parmesan. It was a very tasty dinner. The orange chicken is one of our favorite package meals.

We began our streaming with another episode of “The Residence,” with the investigation of the murder of a White House staff member during a state dinner continuing. All eight episodes are available now, but we will try to avoid bingeing them all too quickly.

Next we indulged in another “Tracker” episode from early in the second series. Then we ended the evening with the final episode in the first series of “English Teacher,” in which Evan’s school colleagues hold a surprise birthday party for him at a local gay bar. I found out that the show has just been renewed for a second series of ten episodes.

Once again the forecast suggests that there will not be any actual rain through tomorrow night, but having seen how today worked out, we’ll keep our rain gear handy. The low tonight might only be 46 degrees, and tomorrow’s high could reach 60. The lack of rain and increasing temperatures may continue through Tuesday, but, of course, that is likely to change in some fashion.

[olderjodijournals]

Tuesday, December 1, 1992

 

That was really nice of Kim to send that package, but can you believe I still haven’t gotten my parent’s package? What’s taking so long? I guess this is cuz of the holidays. I hope I finally get it tomorrow.

Dennis took me to the doctor and amazingly enough; I wasn’t there all that long. He gave me yet another cream to use for downstairs and refills.

I also asked him about a place around here for ear surgery. I’m going to call Boston information for the address and number of Mass Eye & Ear infirmary as well as Mass General. Then, I’m to call the doctor’s office back and ask for Kelly who handles records. She’s gonna get them from Boston. After that, Dr. Kareus will send me to someone for his opinion and recommendations.

Andy took me to the King’s Table which is an all-you-can-eat buffet. We snuck some chicken out in a bag.

He taped Reasonable Doubts for me as it was on while we were gone. I’m watching TV now. Hunter’s coming on next.

Last night we went to a place called Marie Callender’s. I got some good quiche there and he got London broil. I gave our waitress a red jacket for her kids. It was a nice jacket I got from Mom, but it was a major hassle getting it on and off. In exchange, the waitress gave us each a free slice of pie.

On my way out Andy and I grabbed 3 balloons that were by the door. They’re on the floor now as their helium is gone.

Wednesday, December 2, 1992

 

I’m still not tired, but I must try soon to fall asleep, as I want to keep a day schedule for a while.

I really hope I get my package tomorrow. I hope I also get letters from Tammy and Lisa too. Maybe even Bob will write.

This will be the first birthday with no misery. No isolation or crack houses around me. No snow. No bitter cold weather. I only had one other b-day in semi-warm weather. That was my 24th b-day in Florida. That was no fun. Yes, this will surely be the first b-day when I’m finally truly happy and content. Of course, I’d still love to be able to quit smoking, make it in the music business and be a butch lover. Now there’s no way in hell or in this life I’ll ever look at a butch and say, “God, she’s gorgeous!”

As for becoming a singer and quitting smoking, well, I don’t know about that either.

Another weird thing about turning 27 is the fact that I wasn’t even supposed to live to see my 17th b-day. Also, I look 17 still, depending on how I’m dressed. It’s amazing to retain my youth and so much energy after all I’ve gone through both physically and mentally.

Andy told me he’s invited Diane, Donna and Velma over for cake and ice cream Fri. night at 7:30. I explained to him (and he does understand) that this is very weird, awkward and a little embarrassing for me. I’m not used to this or being around so many people. At least not for a very long time and 3 people I barely know are a lot for me. I’ll feel sort of “on the spot.” I’m only used to family members around on my b-day or one or two friends that I know quite well. I will tell Andy to tell Diane, Donna and Velma that I may be embarrassed and that I’m not used to this, so they’ll understand and not mistake me for being stuck-up and unappreciative.

Well, he’s gone to bed so I think I’ll leave a message for him. When he wakes up he’s gonna leave me messages.

Once again, I hope I get my package, but at least I got my doctor’s appointment done and over with.

Later...

During commercials, I’ll write.

I finally got my packages today. I got a gorgeous bracelet with clear stones of many different colors. I got a really nice necklace which is sort of hard to describe. It’s like Indian and Western. She sent a gold chain necklace and 2 gold chain bracelets, but the bracelets are too big.

She also sent this little tube-like thing that’s 2 feet long or so. When you tip it from end to end it makes a weird and funny sound. To me, it sounds like someone’s puking. I played it on Andy’s machine and he thought it was Melissa, the CP lady!

I also got 2 more of those little teddy bears with hands that clasp together. Now I have 3 of them clasped onto the stick on my blinds in the kitchen.

I got another tiny little stuffed animal, a cigarette case, a box of pads and tampons, paper towels, toilet paper, laundry detergent, sunscreen, a box of instant potatoes, hot chocolate, a nice and different cosmetic bag, a strap-like thing for the wrist, hot oil treatment, a can of grape jelly, a troll key chain doll, and a little toy piano with 1½ octaves.

Thursday, December 3, 1992

 

Tara called earlier and said she and Tonya had a birthday card for me. When the phone rang I thought it was Andy and I asked, “Are you eating?” I asked this cuz he always calls and eats on the phone munching in my ear.

Tara was telling me about this funny dream she had and I knew I had to tell Andy about it. He laughed. She told me she dreamt she was getting married to Madonna and was at her house. Madonna was cooking her dinner and she said to Tara, “I want you to meet my parents before we get married.” And Tara just said, “OK, sure, fine.”

She also told me she’s still very very busy with school and work. She told me her boss was gay and somewhat attractive and feminine. She said she doesn’t wear makeup too much but when she does she’s pretty. She has shoulder-length hair. When she finally met her girlfriend she could see just what I meant when I said fems go for butches, butches go for fems and there are plenty of butches with other butches. This girlfriend of hers was pretty damn ugly. She told me she feels the same way I do and doesn’t want a relationship. She just wants occasional sex as she’s got very little free time, needs her space and doesn’t want to go through the bullshit. She’s getting with guys the same thing I’ve gotten from women. The guy says he’ll call and never does, or he’s always there.

I told her I was gonna tell her something I never thought I’d ever be brave enough to say after the Maliheh B case and several others. Well, I told her that if she ever does get curious, she doesn’t have to be shy. I’m here and I’m attracted to her and would never and could never put strings on her. Well, I know she’ll never approach me for sex, but she did say I’d be the first one she’d go to cuz she knows me and she also thinks that butches are ugly.

Later...

I just finished watching a talk show and I just threw in a tape of the edits.

My check comes today. Therefore, I must see if Dennis will take me to the store. I’ve got to get some groceries to hold me over till I get my food stamps. I didn’t get any mail today so I hope tomorrow I get letters from Lisa and Tammy. There are only a few other errands and places I may go to.

Andy’s gonna pick up my prescription and we may go to a swap meet on Sun. I sure as hell hope he doesn’t want to go early cuz there’s no way I’ll be able to get up.

This Saturday afternoon I’ll be picking up my picture at the office.

I still haven’t begun my story and I have not done more editing, but I’m definitely gonna want to write letters to my family. I’m gonna have lots to tell. I’ll also write to Kim, Bob, Nervous and Fran.

I was a little ticked off at Kara earlier. You know how it is with people. I tell them to call me first and they do so for two months, then they knock and wake me up. It turned out OK, though as UPS came not too much later. Kara also came over with Ashley. I can’t stand it when she brings her over. I had us all out on the patio, so she couldn’t trash my place. If Kara holds her down, the damn thing screams. The reason why she brought her was cuz after she visited me, she planned on seeing Brian and Angel. I didn’t know she knew them, and I thought they moved. They were in Idaho for the last 3 months.

Earlier, a little before 7:00, Andy came over to see what I got from Mom and Dad. He also looked at all my journals. The covers, that is. I think number 13 is the ugliest, but he likes it. 6 and 7 are quite boring, too, but I took care of 6. Yes, I fixed it up quite nicely. I took an old barrette with a bow on it. The material and pattern of the bow are pretty. It’s on a velvet black background with stripes of red and blue through it that are sort of glittery. I cut the bow off the barrette. Then, I ironed out the bow flat. I cut the pieces to fit the cover of number 6 which is a small journal, otherwise, I’d never have enough material to cover it. Then, I glued it on. I used a toothpick to spread the glue out on the journal, then just slapped on the material.

Andy’s now trying to sing Desde La Oscuridad. Actually, this is the edited version. Kara heard it and was dying of laughter. I put this on the tape I made for her.

Believe it or not, but luckily for me, I am actually getting sleepy. Sleep is exactly what I hope I can do now. I certainly didn’t get enough hours of sleep last night. Barely 6 hours, so I’ll go try really hard to fall asleep.

Later...

I woke up at 9:00 to take my meds. Also, there was some loud mouth granny and a little girl traipsing by, and I’ll kill them if I ever hear them again that early! Those that get up early have no respect for those who don’t get up early, I swear. I went back to sleep till noon.

Today’s a gorgeous day and there’s a breeze, too. I have my bedroom window and sliding glass door open. My ceiling fan is on, too. It’s nice to be able to air the place out during the day in the winter and at night during the summer. In Springfield I was only able to open the window from late May to early September just to air out the smoke and dust, only to let the pollution in.

Well, my clothes are in the dryer now.

I went over to Andy’s to call for the phone numbers and addresses of Mass General and Mass Eye & Ear Infirmary.

I called the doctor’s office to ask for Kelly, but the office was closed. Why so early, I don’t know.

While I was over at Andy’s, Fran left a message. It figures I would just miss his call. He’ll have to call me back when he wants to.

I got no mail today but my check’s in the bank, so later Dennis and I are going to the store. Shortly after I got up I went to Dennis’s at 12:30. He had some meat and noodles for me that were leftovers they were sick of. It was good.

I told them about the stuff my parents sent and that I have enough paper towels to open a store with. I am going to bring them two rolls cuz Bea uses them like crazy.

Later...

In 10 minutes I’ll be going to get my clothes out of the dryer.

I’m watching this amazing story of an 80-year-old woman who came out of a coma after 30 years.

Later...

I just finished my laundry.

Andy should be slamming in soon and at around 6:30 I’ll be going food shopping with Dennis.

The other day I looked through the paper for what was available in the cat ads. All the ones that were too good to be true were gone. Some were neutered and spayed and even declawed. Had their shots, too. Those kinds of cats are gone the second the ad for them comes out.

Later...

I am now sitting at my kitchen table which is much more comfortable.

I have my lace skirt hanging over one of my chairs. I didn’t want it to shrink. I wore that and my black tights and a tight black camisole with my denim lace jacket I got in Norwich when my pictures were taken. I’m sure curious to see how they came out this Saturday afternoon. I’ll be choosing from about 6 pictures. I hope at least one comes out good since I’m not keeping it and it’s going to Tammy. It’s one thing to keep a so-so or bad picture of yourself. It’s another when you’re gonna give it away to a family member or a friend. Before I mail it to Tammy, I’ll show it to Andy and maybe Tara. When I get the pictures back from Tammy that are going to Kim, I may show them to Tara first.

Tara and Tonya aren’t sure if they’re gonna buy a HUD house or not. They heard they’re usually in pretty bad shape. I can believe that, but I also heard the waiting list for that is years and years. Plus, they’re not a top priority. A family, homeless people, or handicapped people would be considered first. I don’t think the two of them combined are low-income. Maybe average.

Dennis and Bea are the second and third friends I’ve ever had that are not low-income. The first was Kim.

Later...

I’m watching TV now.

Earlier, Dennis, Bea and I went to the grocery store.

My ATM card was canceled cuz it was only a temporary card. Now I must go get a new one.

Fran called and we spoke for about 20 minutes.

I’m doing Andy’s laundry which I’ll get out of the dryer soon.

Friday, December 4, 1992

 

I got up at 1 PM today and there was no mail. Everything’s late cuz of the holidays.

Dennis and Bea gave me a $5 gift card.

As I was returning to my place a girl was calling out my name. I thought to myself, who is she? Well, she had a big and gorgeous plant with her which I surely wasn’t expecting. Perfect timing, too, as she almost missed me. I figured it was from someone around here, but the card said, Happy Birthday - Love, Mommy & Daddy. 

That sure was nice and the plant’s beautiful. There’s a beautiful ribbon on it too. It’s an indoor plant that doesn’t need a lot of light and it’s supposed to purify the air.

Tammy called and I also spoke to Lisa, Becky and Bill. They said tomorrow I should get their check, letters and my pictures. She said to buy whatever I wanted but make sure I tell them in a letter what I buy.

It’s been raining today like crazy for the first time in nearly two months. It took Andy an hour and a half to get home. Due to the flooding and lots of car accidents, he’s called off the cake and ice cream till tomorrow. It’s not safe for Diane and Velma to be out driving in this rain.

Earlier Dennis and I were in the pool and the Jacuzzi. The pool was so warm and you could see the steam coming up from the Jacuzzi and the pool due to all the moisture in the air.

Andy will be over soon and I’ll tell him to call my parents collect and he can now give them my number.

Tara may be over here later, but I’m not sure. Kara called me, too.

Saturday, December 5, 1992

 

Well, I sure do have lots more to write about since the last time I wrote. I’ll go in order of events.

Andy came over with my present in a really pretty bag that says happy birthday. I’ll write all the stuff he wrote on the card, but first, he got me two very pretty journals.

He also gave me tons of no-postage-necessary cards for several different magazines and information about a variety of different things. I sent stuff to Fran, Nervous, Bob, Bobbie, Russell, Jim, Debbie, Barbara, Mattie and Mark.

I decided the timing was right. I had Andy call my parents with me on the other line pretending not to be there, to tell them I just got a phone (sooner than expected). He gave Dad my number.

Dad answered and when he picked up he said, “Happy birthday!”

I heard Andy giggle. I laughed too, and of course, I had my mute on.

Dad called me right back and I thanked them both for the plant. I also told them how much I loved one of the bracelets they sent as well as other stuff in the package.

I told them what Andy got me and about my card and $5 from Dennis and Bea, my call from Tammy and my package from Kim.

Then Ma said they couldn’t get me my b-day gift as they were both sick. Then, she said, “Do I tell her, Art?”

Dad said, “Well, we didn’t want to tell you, but we can’t leave here. We’ve been quarantined.”

I asked what they meant and Ma said, “The health officials won’t let us leave cuz we have herpes. Therefore, we were never able to get you your present.”

I burst out laughing as I realized what they were talking about.

Then Ma said she wanted to get the phone rules straight (of course). She said she’d never accept any collect calls anymore as they’re too expensive (she’s oh so poor). They’ll call me, but she doesn’t want to pay to talk to a machine. I told them my machine broke so the phone company gave me one. She asked, “You ordered voice messaging?” I burst out laughing and she said I could talk to Dad now. I told Dad that if my phone rang 4 times, hang up. Also, I’m constantly in and out of here so I can’t guarantee I’ll answer when they call. I’m no longer a caged animal like I used to be.

Later...

Before I get into what happened last night, I’ll first cover today’s events. Well, I still haven’t gotten Tammy’s check as the mail’s running so much later due to the holidays.

Andy and I will be going to the swap meet tomorrow. He’ll buy what I want and I’ll pay him back. I wish I knew what the amount of the check is. My guess is $25.

I picked up my picture today along with Mary who was on her way to pick hers up at the same time. It can out so-so, but it sure could’ve come out better. I just don’t take so well to the camera.

Believe it or not, Jeff woke me up. Half the time I’ll always be woken up no matter what, so it seems. This is understandable, though, cuz he was moving. He gave me more hangers, a plant and this really nice, pretty, huge wicker basket with silk flowers and leaves in it.

I did some rearranging in here, but I sure do wish still that I could afford a 1-bedroom.

Dennis is fixing one of my speakers today and tomorrow he’ll do the other one.

While I was at his place I looked at the cat ads. There was only one possibility, but it was gone. He’s gonna leave tomorrow’s paper by my door in the morning as he’ll be awake earlier than I’ll be.

I’ll leave him two rolls of paper towels with two funny notes on them.

Andy, who was here earlier, forgot his. He forgets everything.

He and Velma were over for a while. Andy made himself and I pork chops. Velma cut his hair and gave me a birthday card and a pretty purple hairbrush.

Andy and Velma were supposed to go back to his place to make a cake, but I guess he fell asleep. He hasn’t called and I haven’t heard him over there.

While he was here, he gave me 6 pictures of Fay. So 3 will go to Nervous and 3 will go to Fran.

I wonder what Randy’s been up to? I haven’t heard from him.

Sunday, December 6, 1992

 

Well, I’m not ready to fall asleep yet and I probably won’t till around 4:00, so why not write?

Before I forget, that guy Bill whom I met with Randy at the grocery store never called last Monday. I last talked to him on November 27th. He gave me the typical, “I lost your number.” He said something about going to L.A. for the weekend but he’d call when he returned on Mon. He also gave me the number of some girl Kathy to call. She also hasn’t returned my call, so forget it. That tells me how serious they really are.

Andy did fall asleep, but I went over there anyway. Velma was watching TV and finally, Andy got up and frosted the cake, put candles on it, and they sang Happy Birthday.

Andy said to make a wish, but my 3 wishes are not grantable. 1. Being a singer. 2. Meeting a feminine gay woman. 3. Being able to quit smoking. All else I’m happy with so I didn’t make a wish.

Then, I thought of two other wishes, but they’re also not grantable. 1. Becoming madly attracted to butches. 2. Being able to do a career I hate.

While I was there I heard glass smashing in the parking lot. I checked Velma’s and Andy’s cars, but they were fine. Then, I realized I didn’t want to be seen in case someone did do something bad and be connected to it. Stacey will try to pin whatever happened on me.

Tomorrow night I’ll probably do some letter writing. Maybe editing, too.

Tammy still never mentioned speaking with Sheila. At this point, however, I don’t really give a shit. I’ve got permission to be here. Period. And I’m not a murderer.

I’d never ever date a cop, even if she were drop-dead gorgeous. Some of them are good like Mark and others I met. Others think they’re God, above the law, and can do anything. Well, not in my book.

Thursday, December 10, 1992

 

I sure do have lots to write about so I’ll get on with it now. Bob called last night and we spoke for 4 hours. He moved but is still in Turners Falls.

Fran also called but not for long. He got beeped by an important call, so he said. Andy and I really wanted to talk to him, too.

I sent letters off to Bob, Fran and Kim. Rather than send Kim those pictures, I’ll send her the negatives. Nervous oughta be sending back the few pictures I sent him. When and if he does, I’ll send them to Bob who says he’s still gonna come out here with or without Christina.

I finally got Tammy’s letter last Tues. I had to pay 64 cents for postage, but that’s OK. She never even used the negs to copy pictures with. She just helped herself to a few of the originals.

My guess on the amount of the check was right. It was $25. I’ve cashed it already cuz I’ve had to go to the bank for a new ATM card.

Stacey at the office made an agreement with me not to cash my check in till the 3rd of each month. Well, they goofed and cashed it in on the 1st, but they made up for it without giving me any shit. I re-wrote a check for $15 less as that’s the bounce fee. From now on I won’t be giving them my check till the 3rd.

Speaking of SSI and SS, the yearly raise has gone through. SSI was $16 and SS was $426. Now SSI is $15 and SS is $439. SSI will be taking $10 of the $15 SSI check cuz of that bullshit overpayment. So, I should be getting $454, but I’ll only get $444.

Still not enough for a 1-bedroom.

My niece still has not written to me, but oh well.

Andy gave me tons of no-postage-necessary cards. Also, tons of letters. One card he got from Jayke, plus two letters from her. Also, a postcard from Jayke and his sister Linda from Paris. He’d been saving these up and he gave me them to send to Nervous, which I will. I’ll also send Nervous my sister’s letter, the card from Mom and Dad that came on the plant they sent, cards from Andy, Velma, Tara, Dennis and other stuff.

Randy had been really sick with the flu, but I saw him a few days after my birthday. I’d given him $5 to pick up 2-3 packs of smokes for me, as he had to go to the store. He ended up buying me a carton.

I’m really tired and very hungry, so I’ll have to continue writing later.

Later...

Hunter’s coming on now, but I’ll write little by little on commercials.

I went to call Dennis yesterday just to say hi. His brother’s wife Susie answered and she told me Bea died. At the same time they’re grieving, they say it’s a blessing. She was really miserable and out of it. I can understand this, but the shocking thing is how fast she died. Less than 24 hours ago from the time she died, she was her usual self. I was over there for dinner and she was functioning, despite the fact that she was out of it and wasn’t aware of what she was saying or doing.

Bea’s death got me thinking about my dad. She died so fast and I was just talking to her the other day. My dad could call me one day, being his usual self. The next day mom could call saying he died of a sudden heart attack or something.

Later...

In 20 minutes In the Heat of the Night comes on, so I’ll write for now.

Andy gave me a full-size picture of Gloria, which is on the cover of her Greatest Hits CD. Her hair looked pitiful, but her dress, shoes and net stockings were nice. I put her picture in my photo album along with the pictures that Tammy sent back.

Tara was over a few nights ago. She picked out songs for me to tape for her. She’s gonna leave me her own blank tape one of these years. Tara’s not a flaky, forgetful airhead, so this goes to show how busy she is. She hasn’t even got the time to run a tape over here. I told her to leave it outside my door if she calls me and gets no answer.

Although the drawing of Tammy, Bill and the girls came out sort of shitty, it’s nice to know it’s finally done.

I need to write 4 letters at this time to Nervo, mom and dad, Tammy and Lisa and Becky. I also need to finish coloring my poster, which is almost done.

Bob left me a message earlier while I was watching Hunter. He’ll call back.

I guess someone will soon be moving in down below me. I hope not, but no one has moved in next to Andy yet. When whoever moves in, I just hope they’re quiet and never home. I hope it’s one person who never has company and no kids! I fucking hate kids nowadays and can’t stand to be around them. Why oh, why did I ever want a kid for half a second?

Friday, December 11, 1992

 

My show’s almost over, so I’ll be up writing for a while. I hope, though, that tomorrow I don’t sleep too late. It’s gonna be 72° so I want to lie out by the pool. I was in it today and it was like bath water and it was beautiful. Chilly, though, when I got out. It was 70º today, or now yesterday actually. Today 72°, then 55° the next two days and 53° the next two days after that. That’s a pretty quick and drastic change.

Later...

Now I’ve got a few things to say about Kara. A few nights ago she was over and we listened to tapes of convos and edits. We laughed our asses off and had a great time. Andy called at one point and the 3 of us spoke for a while. That was cool, but that’s as far as I can have them go. Andy’s friends are his friends and mine are mine. I don’t want him and Kara to talk on the phone or get together without me present. Even though Andy’s gotten better with coming in between me and my friends when he’s mad at me or someone or something else, and Kara has more of a spine than lots of others I’ve known, it’s still too risky. There are two reasons why it’s a little risky. One is cuz I notice that sometimes the more I’m against something, the more Andy’s driven to push it on me. Not always, but sometimes and it also depends on the situation. The second reason is cuz sometimes Andy’s extremely good at persuading people onto his side and pitting them against me. He does know he’s been wrong about doing this to me in the past and Kara certainly has way more of a mind of her own than Brenda and others I’ve known. Kara knows better, but here’s an example of Brenda and the many others like her I’ve known. Brenda and I are alone. I say to her, “Andy walks too hard and it’s annoying and unnecessary.” Brenda says to me, “You’re right. I agree and it’d annoy me too.” Now Brenda and I are with Andy and I say the same thing I said to her alone. But now Brenda says, “He’s a guy, so give him a break. Different people walk differently.” Kara’s much better than that.

Later...

Before the phone rings again, let me finish with what I have to say about Kara. I tried to decide whether or not I should settle. Well, let’s just say there’s no way I can settle for anything and everything. I also don’t intend to be doing this all the time. I couldn’t anyway unless I went to bars and went after butches only. I finally realized what I’ve been realizing for a very long time now. The ultimate attraction isn’t meant to be, otherwise, God would send it. I’m 200% sure I’ll never lust with a woman who’s not only feminine but to whom I am very attracted. So, now I’m gonna go “in between.” I’m not gonna stay celibate all my life and I’m not gonna settle for a man or an ugly woman. While Kara’s ugly, at the same time she isn’t. I like her personality and we share a lot of the same opinions and beliefs. I’ve gotten to know her and she’s very understanding of my situation and wouldn’t lose patience due to my not being used to being with a lover. She can go slowly and gently. We haven’t had sex yet, but she knows how I feel. I spoke with her and I was honest with her. I told her everything I just wrote down. But instead of, “You’re ugly, but you’re not,” I said, “You’re not my main preference, but you’re not a settlement either.” So, it’s her call now. I’ll let her make the move if she wants sex that bad. I’ll only initiate so much, then it’s the other person’s turn. I’m sure it will be a little scary, awkward and disappointing, but it gets a little easier to accept settling within reason. On the phone when we spoke she told me she was flattered. I didn’t expect differently, especially when God always sets it up to be one-sided. I just wish God would let someone I’m attracted to break down and say, “OK, I’m not attracted to you, Jodi. You’re not what I want, but all who’s available at the moment, so let’s just go for it till I can find a butch or whatever I want.” If having lust were meant to be in my life, then maybe this would happen more often, but all I know is that if it doesn’t turn me on, I can probably have it.

Kara may soon be calling.

Andy will be making us hamburgers later.

I chatted with Mary and while on my way back from the mailbox I got a Chanukah card from Fran. What a surprise, huh? The last time Andy and I were speaking with Fran, he asked the funniest question. Fran asked what is the difference between Hanukkah and Chanukah.

Saturday, December 12, 1992

 

Kara was over earlier and we had a nice chat and some laughs. Before she came over, there was a pledge drive on channel 8. Andy and I called one of the phone operators and you could see him on TV answering the phone. When he asked if he could have my pledge, I said, “No, I need my pledge to dust my furniture.” I told him we didn’t have any money and we are the very few and rare poor Jews. The guy said how much the station needed money and I said, “I need money too, so who’s gonna pledge and raise money for me?”

This reminded me of the Jerry Lewis telethon in 1989 when Andy and I lived in Springfield. I’d call operator 23, if I could see her or him, then say I was operator 18 and ask if she could see me waving. I could then see the operator looking all around. Then the host of the telethon would come on eventually saying, “There has been phone trouble and New England Telephone is checking into it.”

Later...

I hope the food stamps go up soon, but either way, they never give you enough.

Earlier Andy made us burgers, which was nice. I’ll still need to go out and spend cash on food before the 15th.

I left a note on Dennis’s door the day after Bea died. I said I was sorry, but for him to call if he needed anything. I also wrote that I wouldn’t call or go over there till he got ahold of me. I have not yet heard from him and I hope he’s doing OK.

Now I’m gonna go back to the night of my birthday. Denny’s gives a free dinner and dessert on your b-day. That’s nice, but here’s the part that’s extremely bad business. You must eat there and you can’t take your food home. A person should be able to order anything they want on their b-day as well as take their food home. We were gonna go to 2-3 Denny’s, order me dinner, have two bites of it, then take it home. The first Denny’s made me eat my dessert there, but they let me take my food to go. The second Denny’s wouldn’t let me take my food home. It was a stupid policy and I was in a rowdy mood as it was. Our waitress was no less than 6‘4” and she and the manager wouldn’t budge on the issue. Andy went up front to grab a handful of napkins so I could wrap my food, but he let her take them away. Then I got mad. I ran up to her and screamed in her face that people do use napkins and I grabbed them out of her hand. The girl looked absolutely terrified. She was scared shitless and her eyes looked as if they were gonna pop right out of her head. Then I went and sat down and began eating my cake.

The manager came up to collect my dinner and salad. I yelled that I was still eating my cake and she said, “OK, OK,” then ran from the table. When I finished half of my cake, I took mustard and poured it all over the rest of it. Then, I jammed the bottle into it. As we were leaving, the manager went to check it out and said, “Oh, thank you very much. Have a happy birthday.”

I called out, “Thank you, I will.” Me and Andy were cracking up about this all night.

Sunday, December 13, 1992

 

I got two hilarious cards from my parents today and $120! My bills are all paid, so I’m just gonna go shopping and have fun. It’ll be quite a while before I get the chance to again. I don’t need any journals now, so I’ll buy two books of stamps, some clothes and maybe some of Linda’s old stuff on CDs. I should do this while I’ve got the chance.

Got some really cool cards from my parents. They were funny.

Monday, December 14, 1992

 

I feel miserable today. I am very congested and I even took a decongestant and I’m waiting for the doctor to call. My chest and back muscles are tight and lumpy. It feels horrible.

Greg’s gonna be back any minute to fix my water tank. In the shower, I only have hot water for 5 minutes. If I shave, I only have time to shave one leg before the water turns cold. If I wash my hair, then want to shave I can’t cuz the water’s gone cold.

I still do have shit to write about, but I will some other time. I’m also pretty tired. I only slept a few hours.

Friday, December 18, 1992

 

I've been slacking off on my writing and I do have a lot to write about. However, I can't get in the mood right now. Most of what's been going on isn't too good, I'm sorry to say. Maybe tomorrow, after the tenth time maintenance wakes me up from downstairs I'll write. Never have I been happier about the weekend being right around the corner. Perhaps then I can get up when I want to.

Saturday, December 19, 1992

 

I have a million things to write about. I may as well get on with it now. The longer I put it off the more I’ll have to update. The little things, I may forget. Out of all I have to write about, there’s only one horrible thing. Well, two actually. Last Tuesday I awoke to maintenance slamming the door below me. This was the only time it was a big favor as I was wheezing very badly. I figured, “OK - I’m in Arizona. I’ll be fine after I’ve taken my meds and had coffee.” But no fucking way. I knew this attack was too much for me to fight. From the time I called 911 till the ambulance came, I thought I was gonna die. It was horrible and scary as all hell. They gave me an updraft and brought me to St. Joe’s, which was 20 minutes away. I never realized it was that far.

I was so mad, upset and frustrated. I had gone all this time since I was taken into Natchaug.

The previous night at 3 AM, Rachel had the ambulance here. She probably had an anxiety attack. I thought to myself, “This may be cruel, but thank God they’re not here for me.” Nine hours later I was made to eat my words. I was really bummed out, but like the nurses and doctors said, this is a very bad time for all the asthmatics. The nurse said that there’s no place where I’d never have any problems. I get that but as I told her, I was in the ER 2-3 or more times a month back east. She said she could see it being worse there, but here it’ll only be around this time of year. I sure do hope so and I actually do miss the summer.

Of all the times to need a ride, I couldn’t reach anyone. Andy was off, but he was out having work done on his car. Dennis wasn’t home and Tara was on her way to work and Tonya wasn’t home. Finally, after 5 hours I got ahold of Andy.

While I was there, I was chatting with a beautiful girl named Pam. I gave her my phone number, but I know she’ll never call. Jennifer will never call either, but I’ll get to her later.

Sunday, December 20, 1992

 

Now I will finish my updating on all that has been going on. Remember how I said I sent $23.95 to the Bedazzeler? Well, my check’s been lost in the mail somehow. That was this kit with colored stones that you staple onto your clothes. Tammy made a good suggestion, though. She said to look for it in an art store where I may save $5 or so.

Good God, I’m fucking freezing! Two seconds after the heat turns off it’s so chilly in here. The day Gordy fixed my hot water tank, he put foam installation around my doorframe. Look how much it helps.

I’ve written several letters, but I still have more to go. Last night I did some more editing. They were good, too. They were of Nervous. I’ve got many other people and many other tapes to edit, but I must go in order so I don’t get confused and get everything all mixed up.

I was pissed at Andy for erasing the 6 messages with edits I left him. He said he doesn’t have time in the morning to hear 20 minutes’ worth of stuff. No shit, but why didn’t he save it?

I’ve been erasing certain messages he’s left but for entirely different reasons. He sings on my machine, which is fine once in a while, but when it’s constant I get sick of it. It’s boring and he’s got to come up with something new and original, or just talk. The edits are always different. I never leave him the same edits over and over. His singing’s always the same and it’s the same Stevie stuff, stuff I don’t like, or stuff I don’t know.

I’m not too surprised that Steve never returned my letter or called. I am a little surprised that Cassandra has never called or written.

I’ve seen Dennis a few times since Bea died. He’s holding up OK. He’s not sure if he’s gonna stay in Phoenix or move elsewhere.

I haven’t written yet about December 6th. I looked in the Sunday paper and there was the perfect ad. It said, “Indoor, all black, neutered & declawed cat - free to good home. Shots, papers, litter box trained, 4½ years old.”

Me and Dennis went to this gorgeous girl’s house to get the cat. He was gorgeous. All black with medium-length hair. Now here’s the sad part. He turned out to be just like that little kitten I had to dump. He’d sleep all day, be all lovey-dovey through the evening, then scream from midnight till dawn. It drove me crazy and kept me up when I would’ve been able to sleep. Luckily, I was able to call this girl (Julie) and she came to take the cat back. I figured 3 strikes, I’m out and a cat isn’t meant to be right now. Moon Shadow was stolen, the kitten screamed all night and this cat did, too. I can’t have an indoor or outdoor cat. The outdoor one will be stolen and the indoor one will scream.

Later...

I just took a little break to make 3 scrambled eggs. Yum-yum and great for the cholesterol. But I’ve never had a problem with that so far. I’m cursed with other stuff.

Well, I know the security guard’s patrolling around as I just heard the walkie-talkie. I wish Dave were still here, but he’s been promoted. Weird too, as he was definitely drinking on the job.

I sure don’t miss Ellie. Despite the few good and funny talks and laughs we had, she sure was a backstabbing, delusional wimp and a psycho. She always has 10 emotional and 10 physical problems a day like Bob, but at least Bob’s no backstabber. Bob also isn’t sweet, friendly and giggling one minute, then furious the next over something pretty or something untrue. She, Robert, Mark, Donna, Rosemarie and Rick can all go fuck themselves.

So far, Stacey’s stayed off my back since she pulled her bullshit on me. But there’s been more anxiety and anger hanging around than I thought there’d be. Every day I drool over the thought of running into that office and mauling the shit out of her. Every day I must restrain myself from doing so. At first, I decided I would whenever I moved if she were still here. But I can’t cuz she can always find out where I moved to and haul my ass into court. Bummer, huh? But an asshole like this is bound to be fired or resign, hopefully, upon realizing just how many people she’s pissed off.

I was thinking of having Kara do me a little favor. Stacey’s never heard Kara’s voice so maybe she can call and say, “I just spoke to your boss. Me and my husband are tired of your harassment, so pack up your desk cuz you’re about to be out of a job.” She’ll be worried and confused, trying to figure out who the hell it could be.

At least I’ve never had problems with Judy or Paula.

The asthma attack was the worst news. Now I’ll get to the one other thing that wasn’t funny at all. I had gone into the hospital at 12:30 PM and come home around 6 PM. Even though I was beat and a major attack like that will wipe you out, I couldn’t sleep due to all the meds they gave me. Theodur and all the other stuff really winds you up. I couldn’t fall asleep till 4 AM, but I figured that was fine cuz I had no place I had to be the next day. I had a feeling for some time now that I’m just not meant to sleep half the time when I want to and get up when I want. I said, “God, if you care about me at all, please let me get the sleep I so desperately need.” Sure enough, at 10:30 AM Everett knocked on my door. I said, “This better be good,” and I explained to him what happened the previous day. He said there may be a leak in my toilet or an overflow system in the bathtub. I insisted there was no leak and that my floor in the bathroom was dry. He left and every 15 minutes till 2 PM they were banging the fuck out of the bathroom ceiling below me. At 12:30 PM Mike came up saying the wax ring broke and I couldn’t see the leak as it was between my floor and the downstairs ceiling. He said he’d be back at 2 PM and before he explained all this I went off on him. I said I didn’t want them guys here unless I filled out a work order.

The attack happened on the 15th. This happened on the 16th. At 2 PM, the knock on the door came that I so unfortunately expected. Guess who Mike and Everett had escorting them? None other than sweet little Stacey. When I opened the door they were standing halfway down the stairs just like Ellie was. If I’d been more with it I’d have fallen to the floor laughing. Stacey just said, “Hi, Jodi.”

I told them all what had happened to me, Stacey left, the guys did their thing, then left me the fuck alone. Leave it to God to leave it to me to have this happen on a day when I feel the absolute shittiest.

The next night I also fell asleep at 4 AM fearing I’d be woken up at 8 AM and get sick or feel like shit. They didn’t wake me up till 1 PM when they slammed or banged something. At least they let me sleep 9 hours even though I woke up here and there in between but I always do anyway. Friday, Saturday and today nothing woke me up. Maybe I’ll sleep OK this week, then with my luck it’ll be one thing after another the next week and it’ll just go back and forth like that.

Why do I have a feeling that all they’re doing down there isn’t all legit problems? I feel that after they’ve taken care of legit stuff, they’ll be down there anyway. Per orders of Stacey when they’re not busy with legit stuff. This is perfect for her to use against me with nothing I can do about it. She knows my schedule and a lot of my moves, remember? Even though Kara and I combed these vents and found nothing, people are weird. I wouldn’t be surprised if she set something up without my knowledge as technology’s amazing and a little frightening these days. If they have the money, means, manpower and curiosity, you never do know just how far people will go. There was once a time Gordy knocked 4 times. I never answered cuz I didn’t know who the hell it was and he woke me up and I was bushed. Then 15 minutes later he knocked again and yelled, “Hey, Jodi are you in there? It’s Gordy.” It was all as if he was so sure I was in there. How’d he know? They’ve seen me up and about at all different hours and leaving the property. How’d he know I wasn’t out?

Later...

I just stopped to make coffee and Andy called a half-hour ago to say good night.

There were 3 Christmas cards on top of the mailboxes with no apartment number on them. One day Andy took two and the next day I took one. They were addressed to some guy. Two were from Houston and one was from Phoenix. I’m sending them to Nervous. I don’t understand why Pete left them on top of the mailbox just cuz there was no apartment number. I’ve gotten mail with no apartment number put in my box. I also got returned to me a letter I sent Nerv saying there was 10¢ postage due cuz of irregular size. Irregular size my ass. I’ve sent thicker envelopes before. The other 5 made it to him OK I guess. There was a total of 6, believe it or not. There were tons of cards and letters and I could only put 2 to 3 in each envelope.

I’ve decided what I’m gonna do if my pictures don’t come when my guitar comes. This will hurt for a while, but I’m gonna ditch certain pictures. I really do believe now, that my mom trashed them. That really pisses me off, but maybe it can become a favor for me in a weird way I won’t get into now.

Monday, December 21, 1992

 

An hour ago I began to feel tired, but as usual, I laid down only to wake up.

I wonder what maintenance will decide to do downstairs tomorrow.

I’m fucked at the end of this month. Andy’s sister Marla is coming in for 4 days, which is fine. The bad catch to it is her 4-year-old son has to come along too, unfortunately. I’m gonna tell Andy he has a right to his own company, but it better not interfere with my peace. His guests are for his ears only.

Kara would let me stay with her, but I can’t. How can I sleep with a baby there, let alone 3 adults?

I also made a rule that anyone who wakes me up is gonna get woken up in return. No matter what schedule they’re on or I’m on. I got a right to my schedule as they do theirs.

Unless I get a package, I hope and pray I sleep OK this week.

Kara’s been over several times a week. Our friendship’s really grown and is a very good one. She’s heard lots of tapes of edits and convos and they really crack her up. She’s so much like me and Andy and I really need that. More so now as Andy’s on a day schedule always and works full-time.

I’ve edited Kara a little and Andy did a very funny favor for her the other day. He called Brian, a guy she slept with a few times, but turned out to be a flaky, undependable drunk. He hit on Brian who went off big time with another male and female friend. Before he did this I left some edits for him. Kara and I didn’t know the girl’s name and with all the names to guess, I said Rachel, which turned out to really be her name.

Kara met Tonya earlier. I called Tonya for some cigarettes when I woke up. I went over to get them and we chatted for a while. Then, I gave her money to pick me up two packs of smokes on her way back from the gym. Tonya also came over here today as I wanted to show her this killer outfit I got at the mall. I also wanted to show her the new chair I got, my plant that Mom and Dad sent and that wicker jug of silk flowers Jeff gave me. I also showed her my pictures that Tammy sent me back and basically my place, which has come a long way since I’ve been here.

I’d still kill for a 1-bedroom. I need the extra space (especially closet space).

I got that black lace skirt I wanted for some time now. It’s got a solid black silk lining inside, then lace on the outside. I like this so I don’t have to wear my black tights under it as I did with my all-lace skirt. I also bought an awesome camisole, which is pink and black.

I got a full-length mirror and a chair that’s not a regular chair from the thrift shop. It’s a round saucer-like thing on a wicker stand. There’s a soft round cushion on it and you can even pull it off to lay on the floor or whatever. It was priced at $40, but I talked the guy down to $20. Andy once again said that if he needs to buy anything expensive, he’s sending me in there.

I also donated all my 45s and albums. I better tape backup copies in case the originals get eaten up.

I’m not sure if I mentioned the glitter glue I got at the grocery store. I thought it was a glitter pen and it said, “glitter pen.”

My parents called a few days ago and I told them how much I loved their cards. We talked about stuff in general, but I did not tell them about my attack. I told Tammy who called a few days after they did. Tammy and everyone else in the family have been very busy. She said they’re putting together a Chanukah package for me. That’s unexpected but nice. She also said she got a kick out of my joke in one of my letters. This is the joke:

Q: What do lesbians on a diet eat? A: Jenny Craig.

She asked me what Mom and Dad said when I told them I got a phone. I wonder why she asked me that, but I didn’t think to ask her. She liked the picture I sent her.

I wonder if Mom and Dad got the package I sent them with the geeky grandma clothes they sent down to my other apartment They never mentioned it and I forgot to ask. There’s always so much to tell and ask that it’s hard to keep track of everything. I do usually write notes, which I refer to when I write their letters.

Tonya and Tara are going home to Canyon City, Colorado for Christmas and she said she may need me to feed her two birds. It’d be nice if they were gone while Andy’s sister and nephew are here so I could stay there.

I polished my nails blue last night. My parent’s favorite! Kara saw it and she really liked it, so I did hers, too.

I wonder just what’s taking Nervous so long to send me back my pictures? I’ve always been able to trust him around my stuff. With money and anything. There’s only one thing I’m pretty sure he stole and that’s a pair of black bikini underwear. Brenda, I think, also stole two pairs and one of them she’d always say she liked. Luckily that’s all she stole.

Later...

I wish to hell it was summer again. I miss the outdoors, the pool and living on my patio. It feels like I’m back in MA during the night and early morning. They did say it’s “amazingly cool,” so that’s cool. It’s normally not this chilly, but I’m shocked just like Andy was his first winter here. Right after the heat turns off it’s chilly in here. Like my dad said, where he is it’s the warmest in the nation. The good thing about it is that it won’t be long before it warms up again. Winter will be about 4 months, rather than 8-9.

I just hope I can tan somehow and not get sun poisoning. If I always have to wear sunscreen, I’ll be forever cursed with being white. You can’t tan with sunscreen. Another reason why I want summer to hurry up and return is due to the fact that my asthma should be much better. Since mid-Oct. it’s been bad for all asthmatics.

I can’t wait till my family can come see me. Dad said maybe in the summer. I told him he’d have to stay in a hotel. He agreed as they’ll have the dogs. I figured they’d drive out, rather than fly. I wonder how Tammy, Bill and the girls will get out here? I guess they’ll fly. I figure they can’t take the added days to drive. Unless Tammy and Bill want to experience it for themselves and especially the girls. This way, they can all see more states besides Arizona.

Later...

Well, I’m still wide awake, naturally. If I fall asleep around 6:00, believe it or not, I hope something does wake me up at 11:00 or so. I’d just have to stay up and hope I don’t feel shitty. If I can back up my schedule a few hours each day, that’d be nice. I’d kind of like to be waking up early for a while so I can do more during the day. Maintenance or some other source will wake me up. Probably the lawnmowers. It’d be nice to get woken up by UPS at 11:00, but they usually don’t come that early. I’m not expecting any packages so soon, anyway.

Well, it’s going to be 62º today. The days are usually like beautiful spring days.

The day maintenance was here which was the day after my attack, I gave a few donations to the child protective services and food bank. All the maintenance guys, the housekeeper, Judy, Paula and Stacey were out collecting stuff. I felt it fair to do my share for two reasons. One was cuz my childhood was no bowl of cherries, two is cuz that food bank helped me while the food stamp people were busy taking me for a ride at first. I gave some extra drawing markers and some baked beans, which I don’t really like.

Before doing so, I heard movement outside my door and when I went out to check there was a candy cane on my doorknob. Then, I saw Everett and the housekeeper (whose name I don’t know) passing by with a shopping cart. Everett said he thought I was still asleep. I said I wish.

I should go wash my face, which is severely broken out now. I mean major zits.

I’ve done a lot of editing and gave Andy back one of his 100-minute tapes. I have half of one side of the second 100-minute tape to do. I also have his “best of calls” tape I promised long ago I’d edit. Lastly, I have several of my own to finally get edited.

Then I have two posters to color, letters to write and four 40-page stories to write. I’ll be busy with all this for quite a while, but it’s better than not having anything to do. Still, I need more than journal writing and letter writing.

Oh yeah. I just remembered another long put-off and forgotten project. A new Gloria medley, now that I’ve got all her stuff on CDs. I still don’t have her Greatest Hits yet, but I will. I wish I had Linda’s latest and all the songbooks ever put out of Linda and Gloria and all their tour books that were ever made.

I want my fucking pictures back. Why would my mom ditch them? What purpose is there for that? Cuz she thought to have them was childish or something? Well, that should be for me to decide and not her. They were my pictures.

Friday, December 25, 1992

 

The last few days were not too cool. Especially the first 4 days of the week, but they’re better today.

I had my second fight with Andy since I got here. He told me that for 4 days at the end of January, his sister and nephew are gonna be here. I called and said on his machine that I was gonna try to find a place to stay. I don’t really feel like staying here and listening to a 4-year-old kid bounce off the walls whether I’m awake or not. That part was OK for me to say, but then I’ll admit my anxieties took me a little too far. I told him that if I went through 4 days of hell, I’d get him back for it. In my mind, getting back meant slamming my doors and banging shit all over. He called me, and naturally, he was all pissed and freaking out with paranoia and demanded his key back. He said, “Either get evicted or give me my key back.” I laughed, reminding him he can’t just run to the office, say he’s pissed at me, and demand I be evicted. The key thing was amusing too, as he’s known me long enough and he knows well enough to know I’d never fuck up his place. With the exception of Ellie who was never my best friend and who did a severely raunchy thing, I have to be seriously provoked to do something that drastic. Or one would have to swing at me first or go after my stuff. He knows this very well, but it was something to do and to try to piss me off, but I knew where he was coming from. So he said banging and slamming things wouldn’t accomplish anything, and he can’t help the way his nephew is.

So I figured OK, he’s right about that part, we all say stuff we shouldn’t or didn’t really mean, I went too far, let him call me when he’s ready. So the next day I finished editing the second and 100-minute tape of his. I left a message saying I was gonna leave his unfucked up tape outside his door and I did. I returned his key the previous day.

I figured he would never call for me to do his laundry. If he did, I’d have let him know how much of a nerve he’s got. If he can’t trust me in his apartment, how can he trust me with his laundry? He did do his own laundry, then the final straw and the last shit to hit the fan was the next day, which would be yesterday. I stayed up till noon, so I could sleep later. I needed to sleep until 8 PM at least. Sure enough, though, at 5 PM he was slamming the fuck away in his bathroom. That was it. I was ripped shitting pissed. My heart was beating so hard and so fast. I was so damn exhausted and I felt like total shit.

I left him a message as he’d not dare ever leave his ringer on. I told him I started the first little dispute, but this one he instigated. I don’t know what the fuck set him off, I said, but as long as he was to play this game, I’d play right along.

Kara came over and I was telling her all about it, then I slammed my doors for quite a while. After he’d gone to sleep, I was gonna slam my doors but figured he’d have a hard enough of a time sleeping cuz of the anxiety of wondering if I was gonna slam doors. I stopped the door slamming around 10:00 and figured that was maybe enough to scare the message into him.

I then called to leave another message. I told him I cannot physically handle the stress anymore and that I need to sleep. If he lays off of me, I’ll lay off of him.

So earlier (Christmas Eve) we spoke. I asked if he remembered our agreement, which was that neither of us would wake the other up if we got into a fight. He also told me slamming doors wouldn’t accomplish anything, so why does it accomplish anything for him? Especially after two days, you’d think the steam would be cooling off. I apologized for some things I said, but let him know that what he did wouldn’t cut it as I have a major sleeping disorder. I’m hyper and my meds make it worse. It accelerates my heart making me a light sleeper along with being scarred from the projects. I used to be able to function occasionally on a few hours of sleep, but I just can’t do that anymore without feeling shitty. I told him, though, that now knowing how the building is, I would always be a day person if I had my way. Thank fucking God the building’s not like the NHA.

Andy was telling me how everywhere I’ve gone, there’s been a problem. True, but that’s life. Every living place and job has its good and bad. Some more good, some more bad, some all good, some all bad. I’m also beginning to suspect that God may’ve put a curse on me as far as noise and shit neighbors go, beginning with the NHA. Nonetheless, it never was my fault that Woodside Terrace and Locust St. got so bad. It never was my fault Kim abandoned me. It never was my fault Tammy and I were told the NHA was quiet. It was never my fault the walls of the NHA were paper-thin and it was infested outside with 10,000 screaming kids.

I reminded him that there’s always a problem at each of his jobs. He had problems with the people up above him on Belmont Ave. in Springfield He had problems renting a room with some woman named Gail. He had problems with Donna and Diana and other people when he first got here. In his first apartment here the neighbors below him bitched about his nephew. And besides me, he’s had problems and complaints about this building. The people that used to live next to him and Rachel and Tony always slamming their doors. Whether or not all these problems were none, partially, or all his fault, this is just life.

So I said all I had to say and told him I didn’t feel like fighting with him or anyone else for that matter. He agreed and we dropped it.

Later...

At around 9 AM yesterday morning I went to get a package from Fingerhut I’d forgotten all about. It was full of Tupperware and it also had a key rack that I already got from them when I was in S. Dfld.

Andy came over at 8:30, an hour and a half after I got up, and I gave him the key rack and some Tupperware. Then at 9:30 Kara came over and I gave her some more Tupperware as I definitely don’t need all of it. She brought me some hangers. While she was here we filled out no-postage-necessary cards to Nervous, Fran, Bob and Bobbie. We also listened to tapes, ate popcorn, and she wrote a page to Fran. I can’t wait for the two of them to talk on the phone. Fran and Kara will love it and have a field day with each other.

I’m so glad to have met a friend other than Andy who’s so much like me. I can be myself and Kara loves the tapes of both the edits and convos. She knows all our major “lines” now and now she’s writing funny letters with me. You always think when you first move somewhere how you must start all over. Get a new group of friends. Friends who are honest and understanding and have that same weird sense of humor and let you be yourself. Of course, you still meet 10 jerks for every good person you meet.

Speaking of a jerk named Rosemarie, well pay back’s due. I figured I’d wait 5-6 months so as to appear less obvious and egg her car. On her way home, Kara dropped an egg on her windshield. Now, I’m sure to be punished for this, but then again I don’t know. It’s been a year now almost since I could sleep and get up when I say so and things go wrong even if I behave. And I’ve never been more behaved than I am now for a long time. No phone calls.

To change the subject now, I still have that fucking annoying and itchy discharge from downstairs. I give up as I’ve no idea what the fuck to do. It’s incurable.

I’m surprised I haven’t heard from Jessie or Cassandra, but not surprised I haven’t heard from Steve. No pictures yet from Nervous or from mom. I’m sure now, they both trashed them. Fran left a message earlier saying Happy Chanukah and that he is gonna be sending me a letter. Great! Fan-fucking-tastic! Just what I’ve been dying for. With all the letters I send him, it’s only fair. I figured sooner or later he’d get into it, too. Bob also left me his “liquid plumber cappuccino” message. Back when he’d threaten to kill himself with lye, I’d tell him he better make it a liquid plumber cappuccino.

I’m gonna leave a thank you note to Pete the mailman. Stacey refused packages in other names out of spite. Thanks to Pete he left a package two days ago by my door in Lisa S’s name. So, Stacey doesn’t realize that in a way she’s done me a favor. Some will be delivered right to my door.

The package was a porcelain doll, anyway. It’s pretty, even though it’s made up to be old-fashioned. It’s a girl in a light blue nightgown holding a teddy bear. There’s a matching bonnet on her head and she’s got green eyes with blond curly hair. Stevie hair, Andy said.

Saturday, December 26, 1992

 

I am so damn bored right now. I have plenty, which I could do, but I just don’t feel like it at the moment. I have those stories to start, editing to do, a new Gloria medley to make, and coloring my velvet posters. My letter writing can hold off till after the first of the year.

Andy called me at 6:30 this morning. I answered as I was awake and had my ringer on. He was on his way to work and saying how more and more he needs and wants to quit smoking.

At 8:00 or 9:00 this morning, I fell asleep and thankfully I awoke on my own at almost 6:00 this evening. The weird thing is that I haven’t heard him even quietly walking around. Not a peep. Not even his toilet flushing since I awoke and there’s no way you can not hear that. Toilets flushing doesn’t bother me, but where could he be?

Yesterday Bob and Fran left messages, but no word from them yet. They’ll try again when I’ve stepped out or I turn off my ringer or am asleep.

Last night I continued reading back in my journals. I read number 5, which wasn’t too bad. Some of it was interesting and funny, but I sure was naïve. I guess soon I’ll start reading number 6.

I’m sure Rosemarie discovered her egged car by now. Serves you right, bitch!

Sunday, December 27, 1992

 

Yesterday I turned out to be pretty productive. I wrote letters to my parents, Tammy, Lisa and Becky and Fran.

I junked the bed frame I put out on the patio. I really don’t need it and with me being so small I can handle the bed being a little lower.

I scrubbed the hell out of the kitchen. No wiping around things, either. I took everything off the countertops. I wanted and still need to do the whole place, but I was getting way too tired and dizzy.

I fell asleep at noon, woke up shortly at 6:00, heard him stomp a few times, then I finally got up at 9:00.

Fran called at 10:15 and we spoke for about 15 minutes.

I just finished Kim’s letter tonight. Next, I’ll work on Fran’s and Nervous’. Bob will only be getting one more letter since he claims to be leaving soon. I’ll send it right after the New Year. I typed up several envelopes last night. There are about 9 for Tammy, 9 for Becky and Lisa and 9 for mom and dad. There are also 6 for Fran, 6 for Nervous and 6 for Kim. I think stamps are going up, but even if they stay at 29 cents, it’s costly and it does add up. I won’t stop writing permanently to them, but I’ll slow down quite a bit. I’ll explain this to Kim, but not Nervo and Fran. I’ll keep them expecting and wondering with shock why they’re not getting all their letters. I’ll write to my family as often as I do now.

I’m still doing a little something for Tammy, Mom and Dad. I’ve got colored paper, which is about 4x6, and I’m making calendars. I’m making myself one, too, as I had this tiny little microscopic calendar I didn’t like. I could barely see it yet my eyes are fine. So, I have my teddy bear calendar on my refrigerator and the ones I made taped to my bedroom wall. Actually, I’m typing them. I can fit 4 months on one piece of paper. So there will be 3 pieces to each calendar.

Time out for a smoke.

Later...

Well, Andy quit smoking for 27 hours, he had told me on my machine in the early evening. I am to try to follow when I run out of cigarettes, which will be very soon. I’ve decided to take the healthier misery and always crave one and get fat. I’d also like to get off the Theo due to its side effects, even though they’re a joke compared to the Navane. Anything’s better than TD, but it causes dry skin, hair and nails. Makes my stomach gassy and bloated and it revs me up way more than I naturally already am. I have my own natural source of energy. Quitting smoking and getting off my meds won’t always keep me on a schedule, but it’ll help a little. The cravings will suck and I’m sure they’ll never go away. You get constipated for a while, retain water and your metabolism drops. This is why they say to drink lots of water. I’ll die by 30 for sure if I don’t quit and I wrote up a list of the + and the – to quitting. The positives are: I’d breathe better, sing better, save money, improve my immune system, get off meds and rid of bad side effects. The negs are the cravings and the weight gain.

Later...

I just made some coffee and emptied the dishwasher.

I put together a list of 15 exercises for each of the major muscle groups.

In a few hours, I really must finish the house cleaning which I got so sick of. I’m not into it like I used to be, but it needs to be done. My asthma and allergies will appreciate it. I must do the bathroom, dust and vacuum.

Kara’s mom is returning from Williams (a 4-season area). She is fighting with her boyfriend. So, now it’ll be Kara, Ashley and Kara’s mom and stepdad.

I’m a little disappointed in Kara’s mom Alana. The phone is in Alana’s name and I asked Kara to ask her if she could call Boston for their zip codes to the hospital. I’d pay, of course, but Alana said no. Can’t she trust her daughter’s friends? Plus, I did her a favor for their Thanksgiving dinner. I lent her two bowls, so she could’ve returned the simple little favor, which would’ve been under a buck.

Well, since Tammy said she liked the last joke I sent her, she oughta enjoy this one too. I told her that if anyone ever asks her how her sex life with Bill is, she can say this:

Quarter after 1, we’re having some fun in the bedroom.

Quarter after 2, he took off my shoe.

Quarter after 3, he put his hand on my knee.

Quarter after 4, he threw me on the floor.

Quarter after 5, we began to jive.

Quarter after 6, he grabbed my tits.

Quarter after 7, it felt like heaven.

Quarter after 8, he stuck it up straight.

Quarter after 9, we are doin’ fine.

Quarter after 10, we do it all again.

Well, Rosemarie must be pretty pissed right now. Also, wondering who the fuck could’ve egged her precious little car. I still expect punishment for this, but it hasn’t come yet. I’m about to get my period so I hope it won’t be bad cramps. Although, some things could be much much worse. Maybe she’s owed more than payback for pissing me off and God’s having me punish her? Who knows? Time will tell. I think she knows I moved, but of course, not where to. She heard me telling someone on the payphone I was about to move, so she may not even know I’m still at this complex. Maybe she’s seen me hang out with Ellie last summer and asked her, but I’m not really worried about it now. She’s an asshole and a half, although I still very occasionally fantasize about her. About every 2-3 months, I have sex with her in my mind, but she doesn’t know it. In this fantasy, she’s left Rick. I transfer to a 1-bedroom right next to her. Eventually, we speak and yes, it was paranoia caused by Rick. Also, her own private little fantasies kept in the closet. But in time, little by little, I bring her out of that closet.

These fantasies will always be the story of my life. The sex stories of my life, I should say. I do know now and am 100% sure I’ll always be celibate unless I settle. As for Kara, well, I still don’t know yet.

Later...

I am getting very tired. Soon, I’ll be going to bed and praying that Andy doesn’t wake me up.

I cleaned everything but the bathroom. Tomorrow I’ll do that. Cleaning this place sure doesn’t take long cuz it’s so small and I only have 10 shelves for furniture to dust. I do dust the stuff on the shelves. I did that a little while ago along with vacuuming the carpet. Tomorrow I’ll do the bathroom and vacuum that floor and the kitchen floor. Of course, they both take 3 minutes each.

As I said a while back, I changed my mind on my suspect for the firecrackers. At first, due to the timing and coincidence, I thought it was Stacey. It still very well could be, but I think it’s more like something Robert would do.

I took a piece of plain paper and wrote in bold capital letters, “I know about the firecrackers.” I put it in a regular envelope and wrote only his address and name in bold black marker. I put it on top of the mailboxes. So, if it’s him, and I’m fairly sure it is, I’d like him to know that I know.

A guy who lives in the building next to me gave me a couple of smokes as I couldn’t hold out. Kara came over with Ashley and she gave me a couple too. This is good as I really need to at least cut down first. I couldn’t have her stay long as I’m beat. I couldn’t stand it when Ashley screamed, so I was anxious to get her out of here.

I told her to check out Rosemarie’s car and she says it looks like she hasn’t discovered it yet. Guess she’s stayed in all weekend.

Due to being blessed with being able to wake up when I do so on my own for the last 3 days, I hope this doesn’t mean I now must wake up when Andy slams his door too hard. Or gets out of control with stomping. Or by someone else’s door. About 70% of the time in the last year I’ve been woken up by someone or something. When’s it gonna stop? When can I depend on not being woken up 90% of the time? In a week’s time, I’ve been woken up between 2-6 times. I’m sick of this shit. So sick of it!

Monday, December 28, 1992

 

Yesterday afternoon I fell asleep around 1:00. I awoke at 8:30 on my own, but still, I knew my luck would run out. Andi next door has a very large family, which I noticed last summer. Well, she’s got 10-15 boys over there now! They’re around junior high to high school ages. This is just great. School doesn’t start till next Monday and I hope and I pray they won’t be here that long or I’ll die. Tomorrow, late morning or early afternoon, I’m sure I can count on being woken up constantly. Doesn’t Andi still have to work? What will they all do while she’s gone? How long will they all be here?

Well, I got my period and luckily I don’t have cramps.

Right now it is raining out. I hope the letter I stuck in the mailbox earlier to Kim didn’t get drenched. In this particular mailbox, the rain can easily get in. I also put Robert’s note on top of the mailboxes and I hope that’s not drenched and that the wind didn’t blow it away.

Shortly after I got up, Kara came over.

I also spoke to Randy who gave me the TV Time section. He’s been really sick.

I hope Dennis doesn’t move real soon. I’ll call him today or tomorrow and see what he’s up to. Also, maybe we can do errands together.

Andy called one of the Boston hospitals. I asked for the zip codes for both hospitals and tomorrow I’ll mail in all the information to Dr. Kareus. I’ve also signed the release of information papers. Tomorrow I’ll sew a torn pocket in a pair of Andy’s pants to return the favor. Of course, I’d still do it anyway just to help a friend.

I wonder if I’ll get Tammy’s package this week.

I just hope and pray to God to get rid of Andi’s many many many guests tomorrow before I go to sleep. However, I’m sure that’s wishful thinking and dreaming. With my luck, they’ll be here a few days at least, if not till next Monday. I knew my luck had to run out sooner or later. But if Andi’s got to work, I can’t see her leaving 10-15 kids here all by themselves even though they’re not little kids.

God, just make them disappear tomorrow! Poor Mary. She must be having a blast having to be underneath this shit.

Kara says there are still eggshells on Rosemarie’s car, even though it’s pouring steadily out there. Kara and Andy say it takes 2-3 years for eggs to wear off. Unless she gets it professionally cleaned. I believe she can afford to do so, too. Andy and I know it takes a long time for eggs to wear off cuz of about two years ago. We were out throwing eggs when I threw one so hard that it bounced back and splattered a little on the passenger’s door.

Later...

I can still hear some movement next door. The sad part about it is that I can’t call the office about it. They won’t do anything about it as the only way to shut kids up (especially 10-15 of them) is to totally get rid of them. Plus, they’ll only tell me she’s allowed to have company like anyone else is. But 10-15 guests? I just wish I knew they’d be leaving permanently tomorrow morning. That’d sure ease my mind, but I doubt I’ll be that lucky. Why does shit like this always have to happen to me?

I also can’t wait for whoever it’ll be to move downstairs. That oughta be one hell of a blast.

If Dennis is to be here January 23-26, I will have to see if I can stay at his place to avoid listening to and feeling Andy’s nephew bounce off the walls.

So, Nervous did rip me off after all. It’s a good thing I already have copies of the ones I sent him. This is why I first did this as a test. Now I know never to send him pictures I have no copies of. If he’d sent them back, I would’ve sent them to Bob, but if Bob comes here or sees Kim’s copies, I’ll send them to Fran. When and if Kim sends back the negatives, and I believe she will, I’ll still send those to Nervous. Whether or not he develops them is a different story. He probably will out of curiosity, but if he does, he does and if he doesn’t, he doesn’t.

I wonder if he’s still not smoking. It’s been almost 3 days for Andy, that lucky little shit.

I wonder just when my mom is gonna send me my other guitar. I’m not ever counting on seeing all my other pictures that ended up in Florida. However, I won’t yet dump the part of my collection that made it out here. When I do, though, I’ll only dump part of it.

Later...

If the rain continues, I wonder if the people that mow the lawn will call it off, but last week I cranked up my radio and slept right through it.

A great time for my family to come and see me would be late May or early June before my lease is up. This way they can see my studio if I do move on June 10th or 15th when it expires. There are no models for studios. There’s a model for the large and small 1-bedroom and for the 2-bedroom. Is there one for the medium size 1-bedroom, I do not know. I’d love for Mom, Dad, and Tammy to see these models. Not the small 1-bedroom, though. It’s barely bigger than a studio. I may only be able to afford the 1-bedroom over at the Via El Camino complex where Kara is. I’d really rather stay here and find a way to convince my parents to up their monthly help a bit. If they could see in person how much more beautiful this complex is and their 1-bedrooms, maybe that’ll work. I really really do need that extra space. I especially need its closet. It would make my day if they’d turn the studio below me into a model. They’d put furniture in it too, making it less hollow. Sounds would be absorbed much better this way. This is why Andy can’t hear my TV unless he’s in his bathroom. Not that TVs bother me like slamming, sliding, and banging, but I can never hear his TV either unless I go into my bathroom.

In 1993 I hope to be in a bigger apartment!

Tuesday, December 29, 1992

 

Yesterday was an absolutely miserable day. Last night, too. It just goes to further my belief that God will never let me sleep no matter where I go. I also believe this definitely still would’ve happened even if I never had Kara egg Rosemarie’s car. Mary downstairs got the worst of it, but we both suffered pretty badly. The end results, however, are positive. I think they are, but let me start at the beginning. It’s almost like I was back at the NHA. I swear there’ll never be any escape! There’s always gonna be one thing after another.

Last night at midnight I asked them to keep it down. It didn’t work. I pounded the wall once, then at 1 AM, they went to sleep. At 8:00 yesterday morning I called Mary downstairs who’d thought what I thought - that she was moving. She said they kept her up late, driving her crazy. She said they began the same thing an hour ago at 7:30. I told her how many kids were there and that my speaking to them twice never worked. I also told her one of the boys (they were all boys) said they’d be there all week. No fucking way. Mary insisted at first that Andi was out as her truck was gone. Yet she’d been there the whole time and we didn’t know it yet. Mary said someone in her huge family must have a house, so why don’t they go there, rather than in a tiny studio? Good question. Then she said, “Nothing against the Mexicans and their huge families, but where there’s 1, there are 50.”

No shit! Then, with me on the line listening quietly, she called the office. She said she was sick, and she really was and needed her rest. She needs to go to work, so they better do something if they want her to go to work so she can pay the rent. Paula had answered and she said something about getting a letter up to them.

After Mary spoke to Paula, she and I ran to Circle K where I picked up 2 packs of cigarettes, 3 candy bars, a pack of gum and some milk. I returned to them slamming and banging and I called Paula. I told her how many people were there and how they went on the previous night. I also told her I was considering breaking my lease and looking for a place elsewhere. There have been too many problems here, but I’m sick of being woken up. The complex is beautiful and so aren’t the apartments, but the walls are too thin. No, they’re nowhere near as thin as the NHA, but still too thin. The thickest walls were the Woodside Terrace and Oswego Street buildings. I miss walls like that. I can only deal with a little outside noise at this point. I hate it when the kids scream, but at least you can’t feel that. I just turn on my radio, even though there are times when I want total quiet. At least there is a way out of hearing the kids by turning on the radio, but there’s no escaping all those bumps and bangs you can feel. Kara said you wouldn’t hear this if it were at her complex. Maybe her walls are thicker due to how cheap her electric bills are. When I was at her place for Turkey Day, she had her heat turned off and it was a furnace in there.

Later...

Continuing and hopefully finishing next door’s story - I spoke to Paula once and Mary spoke to her twice. After Mary called for the third time, believe it or not, it was Stacey who went to talk to them. I stood by my door listening. She said she had way too many people and there were many complaints. Also, to stop slamming and banging, and no jumping on sofas. Andi bullshitted her in defense by saying she understands, but that I do it too, which is total BS, naturally. I could have sworn I heard Stacey say she understands my situation, whatever she means by that. I heard Andi say they were leaving tomorrow (today) and I knew they’d shut up only temporarily. I knew this about as well as I knew my luck would run out after sleeping well for 4 days.

So, I got those Boston zip codes from Andy and I mailed my mail. I watched some talk shows on TV and their noise subsided not completely, but somewhat. I figured, with kids being kids, it’d have to start back up sooner or later.

I fell asleep at 1:30 PM. Sure enough at 7 PM, they were ready to tear the walls down. I went outside and kicked their door and screamed at them, I was so pissed. I’m ready to rip the shit out of this bitch and I’ll do it right in front of the kids, too! Maybe that would set an example for them and teach them a little lesson or two.

I felt shitty, but it could’ve been worse. I blasted the shit out of my stereo to drown them out till 8:30. They still wouldn’t shut up, so I turned it on again till 9:15 or so. Finally, at 10:30 I realized they just didn’t get it and only gave a damn about themselves. Some folks have no consideration whatsoever and I’ve never ever had a problem with her or with noise from her before, but this just did not cut it. My last resort was to call the cops. I did and it worked.

Now for the surprising part. Once I’m woken up it’s usually hard to fall back asleep. Especially at night with me being a night person. But I did at almost 11 PM. Around midnight there was a big bang (their grand finale), and luckily, as quickly as I began fuming, I fell back asleep till almost 3 AM.

Wednesday, December 30, 1992

 

I guess Andy’s having trouble sleeping or is sick. It’s not like he’s noisy or anything, but I’ve heard movement over there all night long.

Yesterday morning at around 9:00 I heard them next door. The kids would slam their door, but finally, they left at about 11:00, thank fucking God! Now it should be peaceful for the next 4 days until something else wakes me up.

I was at the office yesterday and all 3 of them were in there. As usual, Paula and Judy were very friendly and understanding while I could feel Stacey’s hatred burning into my every pore.

I spoke to Paula, letting her know that although this complex and the apartments are beautiful, I may begin looking elsewhere. I thought the 1-bedrooms were $335, but they’re $349 and they’ll no doubt go up in June. That’s dirt cheap for such a nice apartment, but not anything I can afford. I wonder why I should even bother transferring to a 1-bedroom here anyway knowing how thin the walls are. Even if I could afford it, I should go look for thicker walls.

I fell asleep yesterday at 4 PM and I got up at 9:50 PM. Nothing woke me up, but I wanted to sleep later.

Dennis left a message saying I could have their dining room table and chairs along with other stuff. I have no room for the table and chairs, but I sure wish he was giving up his color TV. I’ll call him at 8:00. I also need to go to the store.

Kara left a message, too.

Later on, I’ll write about what Mary and I discussed concerning a cat and the crazy pet deposit they have here.

Thursday, December 31, 1992

 

Well, here we are on the last day of 1992. What will 1993 hold for me, I wonder?

Yesterday was a good day. I still wish Dennis wasn’t moving but he sure gave me some very nice stuff I could use. He gave me a round glass shelf stand similar to one I once had back east. It’s about 6 feet high and it’s a solid iron stand that is olive-colored. There are 4 glass shelves. It goes out in 4 directions and forms a peak at the very top. I put stuffed animals up there as well as on the glass shelves. I also took some other knickknacks and the few videos I have and put them on them.

He also gave me a step ladder stool similar to my old one. A sturdy small table I’ve put my typewriter on and a tiny square thing to sit on while I type. Also, the perfect TV stand I’ve been dying for. On top are my TV and VCR. The bottom has a slanted shelf, which is normally for videos, CDs or cassettes, but I’ve put journals 1-34 on it. It’s much sturdier than my thin plastic shelves. I removed the shelf where I put my little table and typewriter and I put it in my closet with my underwear folded on it and my socks underneath it. I was able to do this as Dennis also gave me a shoe rack. I save more space by putting my shoes on it and hanging them on back of my bathroom door.

I rearranged other stuff, too. I moved the speaker that was in a corner and put it by the bathroom door, which is very close to the bedroom. I now turn this speaker on at night instead of my clock radio. I shut off the other speaker by my door and my box too, at night. Or whenever I’m sleeping.

I slept well. I slept from 4:30 to a little after midnight, then got up and did Andy’s laundry. I chatted with Dan, the security guard too, and we went to my mailbox together. I got all junk.

Dennis told me to call Susie and Brian tomorrow cuz there will be more stuff no one else will want. He gave Andy a nice chair and a big world map.

While I was figuring out how to rearrange everything which took time, Andy went to the store and picked me up some water, TV dinners and munchies. I have no cash till my check comes. I hope Susie or Brian have some cigarettes they can spare.

In journal 32 I had accidentally skipped a page and Kara wrote on it. She wrote: He’s not my boyfriend, he’s just somebody I’m sleeping with. I, Kara, came over this morning with a pack of cigs. What’s a P.J. Paul, I’m going into the kitchen to get a knife and I’m going to come and get you. Well, I haven’t heard from Brian since the last time, which was almost 2 weeks ago. From now on he’s going to be a closed chapter in my life and the only time it is going to open is when he calls so I can bitch him out. There are just 2 words lying under the carpet. And they can’t put you in bucks for 400 jail. I’m so glad you’re my friend. Officer S is here with me. And boy is she pretty. Talk more later. Bye-bye.

Later...

Last night I began 1 of my 40-page stories. It’ll definitely need way more than 40 pages, but I can always carry it into another journal. It’s going well and I’ve already done 20 pages. I type up the rough draft, copy it in, then send the rough draft to Fran. I’m typing the rough draft on that pad of colored paper Mary bought me. Kara, who was over for a while yesterday read what I’ve written so far and really liked it. Kara’s one of the few people like Andy and I where you can share your fantasies with her and just about everything and she won’t freak out.

I don’t know if Mary and I will ever do this as I don’t know how long I’ll be here, but we came up with an idea. The idea is that she pays the pet deposit in my name, gets a cat and makes sure it works out (I told her how horrible the last two cats were). It can spend time up here when she’s not around or when the office people are around. It can stay with her when I’m asleep or not here.

I’ll write more later, but I really need a shower and some food. Current Location: Arizona

[reii418]

Letter💌(Akita Rian.2024.04.13)

Welcome back to Rian's blog~ The package that I've been waiting has finally arrived! What is it? Well it's chocolates from a local friend!! It's been about 2 months since she told me on Valentine's Day that she would send chocolates to me in Tokyo! It seems it's finally delivered to me. Along with the chocolates, she also gave me a towel with my favorite panda on it.🎁I'll be using that towel for my lessons from now on!💪 Oh yes, she also included a letter, giving me updates on what's going on, talking about my blog, etc… I wonder if she'll read my blog today..💭It's a weird feeling to have a friend you've been talking to in person read your blog. Letters always make me happy. I read the letters I receive from my fans over and over again. It makes me so happy to hear their thoughts and feelings about me, and it makes me want to work even harder! It also encourages me a lot😌 so thanks everyone for the letters!🫶 I'm afraid I'll forget to add a picture if I continue writing so I'll add it now lol.

"I'm going to do my best today"

Also one where I'm smiling in another angle^^ Only 4 days to go until the solo performance of Kumogumi #04: ！！！！ I'll do my best for the last spurt 🔥! Last but not least, the deadline for the FC pre-registration for the "1st anniversary of formation, the one-man live Boku ga Mitakatta Aozora vol.1" is coming up soon, on 23:59 tomorrow! I hope everyone remembers to apply! Let's all feel youthful together! https://bokuao.com/news/detail/1238

Also, The performance of the song "Repaint it white again! which was performed for the first time at the "One-man live vol0.5", is now available on YouTube!

Please check it out!

Well, that's all for today...

This is what the sky looked like today! It was warm enough that I could wear short sleeves. ☀️ I'll be going out with a certain member tomorrow🤭 I'll write it in my blog then. Thank you for reading till the end!