#so I didn’t consider this a total waste of money

[freyholland]

Had a moment of weakness

[ohnopeh]

i was rewatching gallavich scenes (no one’s surprised) and to be honest, i think the whole monogamy thing is pretty clear from the beginning ( to us, cause they’re dumb )

neither of them want the other to fuck other people but they share one braincell thinking the other wants to mess around. ian talks about monogamy saying its about not having sex with others and mickey expression changes

he’s clearly panicking wondering if ian mentioned it because his husband wants to fuck around. he doesn’t want to lose ian and is afraid that saying yes to monogamy could be a deal breaker (im pretty sure mickey was feeling insecure as fuck about not being a good husband since they fought about the money, job etc.)

when ian sees mickey’s reaction, he mistakes it as disappointment/disagreement with being monogamous. you can totally see he’s regretting mentioning it and wondering how the hell he’s going to get out of that situation.

he’s like ‘what the fuck what is this reaction what is going on why isn’t he saying he wants to have sex with me only?’ (cause again, one braincell shared)

so they’re just dumb fuckers who want the other to be happy but they just confuse each other, not realising they want the same thing. mickey asks ian what exactly is counted as having sex : blowjobs, proper fucking? because he wants to know what ian would want from others and if he can handle that, but of course ian thinks that’s mickey asking because he is the one who wants to fuck around!

none of them want to just disappoint the other so mickey plays it cool saying ‘you don’t want to fuck other people?!’ (reminds me of ‘you don’t want to fuck angie? everybody fucks angie’) and of course ian’s defensive too saying ‘me fucking you only? no… so difficult… no… i could never… not like ive been doing so for 10 years… going back to you all the time… saying sex with you is fucking fantastic… no….’

but then ian says

that’s his way of trying to let mickey know he’s actually not into the whole open relationship thing. but considering they just keep saying they want to do it, mickey simply thinks ian is being hypocrite, not being able to see what he truly meant by that. when ian writes down that he wants monogamy, he’s being honest and i suppose he kept on thinking mickey wanted to fuck around cause he didn’t show his answer (which was mickey’s way of trying to do what ian wanted cause he always want ian to be happy and will do anything for him)

they just keep being dumb as hell until the episode where they have sex with other people. you can see mickey has realised ian isn’t into it but doesn’t want to admit it, to keep mickey happy— because mickey is taking the piss out of ian by pretending he’s having the time of his life trying to find new friends to fuck around with.

( again, ian is forcing them to find gay friends just because he thinks that’s what they’re supposed to do to archive their new happy life )

mickey staying with the other gay couples for drinks he doesn’t like, company he dislikes. he waits for ian to call it a night and even then he took the piss out of ian asking if he really wanted to leave. they end up having sex with the others but once they’re home ian says it was a waste of time and mickey points out they did want ian wanted so badly, making gay friends and having sex with other people. so how is that a waste of time if ian wanted this all along?

mickey asks

(are you still going to pretend we want to fuck other people?) and ian admits that, no, he doesn’t want that. he doesn’t want gay friends to talk about their sex life or friends to bang just because. explaining he’s okay to have lip ( and mickey ) as their only friends cause they’re alike and that’s what he needs. he doesn’t have to force himself to be different or fit somewhere.

i know people also discuss the scene where ian is at the gym in their new apartment, where he smiles at the guy flirting with him. to me that scene was just ian being taken by surprise ( as he didn’t really expect the guy to hear him ) and maybe even glad that there are gay and accepting people around them (not like southside) so it only proved more and more that their life in the north side could do good to mickey too. it makes sense because in the same episode mickey freaks out about the new place, it shows how they react to changes and ‘safeness’ as mickey says it makes him feel uncomfortable to have a better life, something new that he has no control over (like him saying he has no idea how to escape safely from the northside/their new house— if needed)

long story short : they are dumb and always want the other to be happy but scared to communicate properly and mess things up. they only want each other in all the way and that’s what it is and will be forever! shameless writers for s10-11 were something else tho, im sure there were better ways to write this plot but still lol

[justlemmeadoreyou]

windfall | (mechanic!harry part2)

summary: part 2 to this

word count: 2k

warnings: cursing

masterlist | ask box(requests are open!)

As you walked away from the garage, frustration and annoyance built up within you. Harry's indifferent and grumpy attitude was not making this situation any easier. You considered finding another garage, but deep down, you knew that might not be a feasible option given the state of your car.

You didn’t even want to go to work today. Sleeping curled up in the backseat of the car had made your body sore, especially your back. But leaving work would mean staying at the garage all day, listening to scolds from Harry, and you didn’t want that either.

So, you decided to go to work.

Walking to the nearest bus stop, you managed to get a bus that dropped you off near your office, but you still would have to walk half a mile.

Great.

You reached the office after about an hour, completely disheveled and tired. You had gotten a bit sweaty too, that failed the purpose of taking a shower, and you were already in the need of another.

Walking in, the receptionist as well as the other few looked at you judgmentally, but you successfully managed to ignore them, too tired to start a conversation and explain your circumstances.

Walking to your worn-out leather chair, you threw your bag on the table, and slumped down on the chair. You looked at your computer, and then at the pile of files you had on your table, as well as the reports you had to finish working on, to get signed by Jake, your boss. You pouted; it was so much work for just one person. The worn-out chair creaked as you shifted, contemplating how to tackle the mountain of tasks in front of you.

Turning on the computer, you got up from your chair, and decided to go for a coffee run.

Turning the coffee machine on, and placing your cup below, you stared at the liquid pouring down as it gradually filled the cup. After a few moments, another person entered the room, and you looked over your shoulder.

Thankfully, it was your friend, Mia.

Mia was one of the very few girls in the office who worked at the same position as you, and you two had grown really close over the past  6 months, when she had driven you home one night from the bar, you had been really wasted and she was he only one sober. She had made you drink water, take a Tylenol, and tucked you in.  She was so caring.

She walked with a smile up to you, proceeding to retrieve her own cup. She then came and stood next to you, while the machine was still filling up your cup.

“Morning.”

“Morning. You look tired. What happened?” she asked. You sighed and frowned, as all of the things that had happened in just the last 24 hours came rushing back, making you want to cry so bad.

“Yeah, I took the bus, and walked like, half a mile to reach here”

“Oh god. What about your car?”

“It totaled. And my apartment too, it’s gone. My landlord kicked me out.”

“Jesus, that’s awful. So you slept in your car?”

“Mhm” you removed your cup, and replaced it with hers. Taking a sip, you closed your eyes as it cascaded down your throat. You hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon, and the coffee gave you some energy to finish some of your work, till the afternoon at least.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” she frowned too, feeling sorry for you.

“It’s alright. Should have seen that coming. I mean, I spent so much money on the concert tickets last month, I almost went broke. I couldn’t even pay rent, and it was due since so many months”

“Still. That’s so bad. If you want, you can stay at mine for a few days. My roommate has gone for a trip and I think she’ll come back next week”

Your eyes brightened. She was such a gem. You immediately put your cup down, and hugged her.

“Thank you so much. So so much”

Rest of the day went by great. You were able to submit 5 reports, and completed most of the files and cleared them off your desk. You had finally managed to find a place to live, at least for the next few days, and you were sure you could figure something out till then.

Walking back to the garage, you had a cute smile on your face. The prospect of having a place to stay for the next few days infused you with a sense of relief, and not having to see Harry everyday was an added advantage.

Reaching the garage, you spotted your car and walked to it. There was someone down below, working on it. You decided to sit by for a bit, to find Harry and tell him about the new conditions. Surely, he will be glad to see less of you throughout the week.

You knocked the hood of the car, hoping the person below would listen.

He came sliding out, but he wasn’t Harry.

And he was gorgeous. Bright blue eyes, with brunette hair. He was wearing a tank-top, the shirt tied around his waist. There was a bit of grease here and there, but you didn’t mind.

“Yeah?”

You blinked and shook your head, bringing your eyes back up to his face.

“Uh-yeah. I was just-I came to ask that-Oh-this-this is my car. I wanted to ask, is there any progress?” you stumbled a bit around your words, but managed to blurt out at least an understandable sentence.

“Oh, yeah. I checked the engine and it was…well, in a bad condition. I will have to replace the air filters, check the exhaust and combustion, and the fuel too. Will have to replace the battery too”

He got up, cleaning his hands on a stray cloth.

“Oh. It’s not totaled yet, is it?”

“No, lord no.  It’ll be much lower than that. How much did you buy this for?”

“About 35,000 dollars”

“Nope, this will be about 600 dollars.”

“Oh, thank god. I met, Harry? In the morning. And he scared me so bad. I felt that it was gone”

“No, he just likes to give hard time to everyone. I’m Niall, by the way” he extended his hand for a handshake, and you gladly did.

“Hi. I’m Y/N. And he really scared me so much.”

“Yeah, he just does that so people use their cars better. Or at least live in fear till the repair is done. “

You shook your head, and remembered that you had to pack up your stuff, since Mia, and the moving truck was going to be here soon.

“That’s so bad. Is he around?”

“Yeah, he’s in the back. I’ll call him.”

“Sure”

He went in and came back after a while, and Harry still had his nose scrunched up, and shoulders slumped, hands crossed in the front.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Oh-I wanted to tell you that-my friend, she offered me her apartment for a while, so for a week, I will be living with her. So I’ll take my stuff away and you can take my number, call me if it’s done.”

“Cool. But I don’t do calls. You’ll have to be come and check yourself”

“Don’t be a dick” Niall interrupted, “I can take your number. I’ll call you if it’s done early”

You smiled, and gave him your number. He promised to call you, and reassured you that he’ll do his best work on it. It made you feel a bit relaxed, and at ease. At least, everyone was not as rude as Harry. Soon, Mia came with her car and a truck, so you could move your stuff from your old apartment as soon as possible. There wasn’t much: a couch, two almirahs, your bed which had been dissembled, the mattress a TV, a refrigerator, an oven, kitchen utensils and an induction. Some other small appliances too, like the iron, straightener, etc, but that could fit in your bag.

After everything was loaded and your car was empty, you gave the keys to Niall, and picked up your bag, walking to Mia’s car and keeping it in the backseat. You went around and sat in the front, as she drove away to her place, the truck following behind.

The night was dark as Mia's car cruised through the quiet streets. You sat in the front seat, staring out of the window as the city lights blurred and headlights blinked. The stress of your car and the situation of next week, when her roommate would be back, still lingered on your shoulders. But, you were glad to have found a temporary refuge at her place.

Upon reaching Mia's place, you stepped out of the car. The air inside was cozy and inviting. Mia led the way, and you followed suit, hauling your heavy back awkwardly.

After moving your stuff to a corner, you both slumped down on the couch. The day had been tiring, but the welcoming aroma of her home made you feel at ease.

With Mia's help, you settled into the spare room she had graciously offered. It wasn't much, but it was a haven compared to the uncertainty of your car. You thanked Mia again, overwhelmed by her kindness, and assured her that you would find a more permanent solution soon.

The night unfolded with shared laughter, stories, and a home-cooked meal. Mia was a great cook, and you hadn’t tasted her food in so many months. You talked and laughed, and having dinner with a friend was so comforting. As the clock ticked away, fatigue set in, and you found solace in the softness of the spare bed.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, gently waking you from a restful sleep. You opened your bag and took out your toiletries, and laid out the clothes for the day. Brushing your teeth, freshening up and taking a bath, you felt so much better than you did yesterday.

As you sat on the dining table drinking coffee with Mia, your phone buzzed.

It was an unknown number.

Hey, it’s Niall

Your heartbeat increased in your chest. The gorgeous brunette had messaged you?!

You put the cup down, taking the phone down. Opening his chat, you quickly typed out a reply:

Hi, good morning, Niall :)

You didn’t respond to texts from unknown mechanics with a good morning message and a smile usually, but he was different. He treated you with so much kindness, and to be honest, you had a little crush on him.

His response was quick,

Morning, love. How you been? Sleep well?

Your heart fluttered at the endearment in his message. It was unexpected, especially considering your recent interactions with mechanics, particularly the grumpy Harry. Niall's tone was a stark contrast, and you couldn't help but smile at the screen.

Yeah, slept better knowing my car is in good hands. Thanks again for your help. And you?

you replied, genuinely interested in how his night had been.

Niall's response was swift,

Glad to hear that! I slept like a log, thanks. You off to work? Yeah. You? Already there. Was working on your car just before I texted Oh. Well…good luck, I guess??? Lol. Yeah, it's all in a day's work. Don't worry; I've got it covered. Your car will be up and running smoothly in no time. Thanks, Niall. I appreciate it. No worries, love. Call me if you need anything. Sure, thanks

You closed your phone, throwing it inside your bag, you walked out to the door with a huge smile on your face.

a/n: i tried writing it better!hoip

lovely divider by @cafekitsune

i hope you like this! please don't hate me

here's my ko-fi if you feel generous

requests and feedback is welcome and much appreciated!!

>>>

general taglist:

@freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @babyiamperfectforyou @me-undiscovered @tbsloneely @whoreonmondays @kathb59 @avalentina @kittenhere @speedywritingharrystylesjudge @mypolicemanharryyy @theendx888

let me know if you want to be added, removed

.

[m4ndysk4nkovich]

Do you have any Debbie + Ian headcanons? Pre-canon or otherwise

eek!! yes i have many… and a lot of them are pre-canon because i’m a sucker for pre-canon

i’ve written about this before (and never published it lol), but i could see one of ian’s first memories being around debbie’s birth or her actual birth. frank said something about most of his kids being born in the gallagher house, and i believe debbie was born on the same table she gave birth to franny on. ian was really excited to be a brother because of lip’s influence, and when he held debbie for the first time, he kept calling her “my baby” and getting defensive when anyone tried to take her away (which was reasonable considering he was only four and couldn’t really hold her properly without help). when they got older, maybe five and nine, they would play together with the barbie lip took from the 99¢ store and ian’s g.i. joe, debbie was very bossy and kept interjecting whenever ian tried to do anything because she had a specific plan.

whenever frank would come home wasted or monica would be having another episode, ian would grab debbie (like he does in 2x08 and 11x07) and comfort her. he would convince himself that, yet again, he was following in lip’s footsteps and helping debbie, but a part of him knew he too wanted that comfort because he didn’t often get it.

debbie has painted ian’s nails… on several occasions. when they were kids and debbie would do it, ian would insist she picks a color that wouldn’t be noticeable and would pick it off his nails before school the next day. when ian got older and debbie would do it, he didn’t really care what she did and would keep it on (even if he ended up biting it off later). maybe as an emt sue would tease him, but he’d just brush it off. franny ends up painting his, too.

around two, maybe more, times, debbie would come with ian to the milkovich house. ian would go over to study with mandy (and sneak into mickey’s room to “go to the bathroom”), and debbie would talk with mandy. she felt really cool doing this, and on the walk home debbie would excitedly tell ian about how awesome she thinks mandy is. this is around season two

while working at the kash and grab in the summer, debbie (and sometimes carl) would walk there from the public pool and debbie would convince ian to give her money for some candy or a drink. ian always intended on doing so, but he would pretend to put up a fight to irritate her.

anytime ian (or any of her siblings) was sick or hurt and needed to stay in bed, debbie would sneak into his room and talk to him like he has terminal cancer and weeks to live. ian always found it sweet, even if he would playfully roll his eyes and tell her to get out.

when debbie was pregnant, she would send ian photos of her baby bump. she wouldn’t often get more than a “❤️”, but she appreciated it considering she felt so alone, but always knew she’d have her brother.

because season ten confirmed debbie’s a stoner as an adult (twice, lol) i can imagine her smoking on the porch with ian like she did with sandy. he’d talk about mickey, she’d talk about franny, they’d laugh about their other siblings.

i can’t really think of anything else but if anyone’s seeing this and wants more headcanons i’ll happily post them, my blog’s kinda dead now (which is totally my own fault lol)

[bubzebii]

We all have cravings

Yan! Mikey x reader

This is kinda like a part two for the Yan Mikey hc I made. Also just know this is strictly fiction, I do NOT support this Irl if you do please seek help. This is my contribution to horrortober ig. I did not proof read this at all so I hope u enjoy my brain rot.

Tw: build up, poor writing, blood, kidnapping, yandere themes, cannibalistic themes, anxiety, panic attacks, nonconsensual touching (nonsexual), overall bad time for y/n

I hate my job. Customer service is bitch in a half, I swear to god customer service employees are doing gods work. I can’t even wipe tables in piece without some lady yelling at me about how her frappe has too much ice like it’s a global issue. What’s worse is how I spend 8 hours of my life for this, I need a better job.

Walking down the slightly empty streets of New York, my body aching for my beloved bed. I look at the shops as I walk by, absorbing all the trinkets and doodads inside. One place though, stopped me in my tracks, a quaint little bakery near by an alleyway. the inside had a golden glow to it, it was almost unreal, beautiful, and the smell was amazing.

so as any normal young adult would do, I walk in, not knowing what I want to buy. I instantly feel regret setting inside my stomach, why did I walk in? Oh god I can’t just leave without buying anything, maybe they didn’t noticed I walked in? Looking around right as that thought sped through my mind, I made eye contact with the baker, they greeted me, but god of course they saw me.

Well due to social obligation, I HAVE to buy something. Panic started to rise as I still have no idea what to buy, knowing the baker isn’t even rushing me, the panic is still there. Just as I thought all hope was lost, I felt another pair of eyes on me. Turning I see a man in a trench coat and fedora, staring at me through the glass like I’m one of the wonders of the world. Weirdo. We make eye context for a second before he snaps out of it, and stumbles inside.

Thank god, an out I thought as the man walked closer to the counter. “You can order first if you’d like, Im still deciding.” We made eye contact again, despite the added difficulty the fedora he was wearing made. “Wow, thanks stranger! You know this place has some delicious raspberry sweet rolls! I totally recommend them if you haven’t tried any!” Sweet rolls? As a recommendation? This dude just keeps getting weirder and weirder, but considering I don’t know what else to get, I might as well try it, what’s the harm? “Hmm that does sound tempting, maybe I will” making sure to add a smile after, the man seems to beam at my remark. “Trust me, they are AMAZING especially with some chamomile tea and vanilla scones”

Pfft- What are you? A rich old white British lady? “Pfft hahahah! Good one, it really does sound like I am huh?” He continues to laugh even harder as the “joke” sets in as I stare in shock and horror. Did I really just say that out loud? “My names Mikey, what’s yours stranger?” He says while wiping a tear from his eye. “Oh uhm- y/n” were doing introductions now I guess. “Well y/n it’s nice to meet you” holding his hand out, I didn’t fail to notice the green skin and the three fingers outstretched towards me.

Oh my god, what the hell?! An excuse, think of an excuse. “We should probably order, don’t wanna hold up the line” good one me. He looks behind us and I follow suit; low and behold, no one else of course. He chuckles before turning back to me and says, “I guess you have a point”. Retracting his hand he turns to the cashier and places his order. The cashier told him that he’s gonna have to wait for 20 minutes for it to be ready, Mikey nods and turns to me before asking the cashier for those raspberry sweet rolls. Oh god-

“Oh can you make those separate?” I sputter before Mikey quickly answers, “I insist, I don’t want you to waste your money if you don’t like it!” Convincing argument plus free food? You win this round “Mikey”.

After paying Mikey and I go to sit down at a nearby booth. Maybe I have him pegged wrong my mind started rationalizing. Maybe it’s a medical condition? We sat for a good minute in silence as I’m overthinking per usual. “So, what do plan to do with a whole loaf of zope bread?” I say to avoid the loud thoughts buzzing through my head. “Oh! Well I was planning on making it myself but I might as well try this places zone, I’m planning on pairing it with some-“ before he can continue, the cashier called out the raspberry sweet rolls to catch out attention.

I got the rolls and walked back to the booth. “Well, here’s my order”

…

“So…see ya…”

Before I could even take a step though, Mikey shot up “whaaat?! B-but you didn’t even try it! I want to see if you like it or not!” He stared at me with pleading eyes, like a dog begging it’s human for a treat. Why is he so invested in this? “I didn’t think you’d want to know my feedback..” “well duhhh, I recommend it to you, I just have to know i hit the nail on the head!” Oh… well whatever it takes to leave faster. I grabbed a roll and popped it in my mouth, it was EXPLODING with flavor. I think Mikey could tell with the knowing smirk that spread across his face.

After that we started talking more in the restaurant, I got to know him more. Apparently he has three more brothers, when he made me guess which one he was, it wasn’t hard to tell he’s the youngest. Eventually his order was done, disappointment sent in me because, well, this was actually a pleasant interaction with a not so total stranger. Acquaintance if you will. By the time his order was ready, I already ate all the rolls, so I guess this is it.

“It was nice meeting you, I didn’t really plan staying out this late.” I said as we walked out, the sky nearly dark. “It was reallyyy nice meeting you too, you know…” he stated reaching in his pocket. “If you need any more expert cooking advice, give me a call!”

.

.

.

That should’ve been it, but noooo, I just HAD to call back, we just HAD to get to know each other more, he just HAD to show me his “secret” identity…I just HAD to fall in love…no..for his tricks

It all started with food, a fucking roll no less. He fed me and like a wild animal I kept coming back. I ignored all the red flags, all my friends concerns, not noticing how they quickly left my life after venting to Mikey about them. I kept coming back for more like a dumb dumb animal.

But now here I am, a small closet with one twin bed and barren walls, no fan or vent. What did I do to deserve this? What avengers level threat did I cause to end up here? There’s barely anything to do besides relive old mistakes and sweat. Dare I say it, I even miss my job and being a useful member of society.

The door finally opened the reveal the devil himself, Mikey. But somethings off…I’ve been here long enough to read Mikey’s face like a book. He looks nervous, like he wants something nervous… fear started to creep within me, what did he want now?

Usually he brings stuff in like crafts or food and water, but this time, it’s just him. Closing the door behind him, he speaks. “Hi my Angel…” a grimace grew on my face. That nickname used to make me swoon, but now it makes me want to throw up. “I have a very important question to ask you”

This was the question that ruined my life…and I thought it couldn’t get any worse… he wanted me…ME. To… just the thought is making me gag- EAT HIM. LITERALLY. The thoughts in my head started swarming me, his justifications and explanations fall on deaf ears as the room swirls around me. He gently grabs my forearms snapping me back, since when did I start crying? I can’t even breath right, I feel like I’m drowning.

“Listen, I know it sounds really really REALLY crazy, but I need you to trust me… you’ll be okay. This will be good for us! We’ll be together all the time isn’t that great?” No, it’s not great, far from it actually. “I won’t force you to do it now of course, take your time, I’ll wait, I’ll always wait for you”

Ever since then, no matter how much I stalled, it was only putting off the inevitable. No matter what I did, it never swayed him. Actually, it did, but not how I would’ve wanted. He started giving me less and less to eat. It started off small with a few less portions, but I never noticed the twitch in his smile whenever I put down his encouragement to chomp on his arm. He started giving less portions and no breakfast anymore, id be lucky if he gave me dinner.

Im hungry, starving even. It hurts, it hurts so so much. He would always come in more often, lifting his arm and encouraging me to bite. “Come on, you can do it baby”. It pisses me off. How dare you kidnap me after I gave you my trust. How dare you put me in a cramped tiny room, having to solely rely on you for everything. HOW DARE YOU force me to break EVERYTHING I thought was RIGHT all while you look at me and TELL ME YOU LOVE ME.

.

.

.

I hate you. I failed to notice hot tears running down my face. I hate you. I also failed to notice how hard I shook, how my teeth grinding against each other until it hurt. FUCKING I HATE YOU

Red, it’s all I can see. I used laughing when any character in media say they saw red, can you blame me? It sounds so…dumb, but I get it now. I understand, how ironic. Apparently, I could..taste red too…

Snapping back to reality a brick of drowsiness crashes down onto me, I must’ve had some high adrenaline because my jaw started hurting like a bitch. Liquid runs down my jaw, it’s warm..fresh. Why do I feel something on my tongue-

Shock slaps me in the face, my eyes go as wide as saucers, what have I done?? Looking up at Mikey I see the sheer amount of euphoria in his face, his eyes holding so much love, it might spill out. I need this thing out of me, I need HIM out. I gag trying to spit it out but he quickly puts his hand on my mouth. “you can do it, swallow quickly, it’ll all be over, your doing amazing” I don’t even think before swallow the lump down. The worst part about this whole experience was feeling the lump of meat slide down my throat and plop into my stomach. My mouth instantly starts salivating, and I’m forced to question if it’s because of the hunger still in me or the sheer amount of disgust and horror in me trying to throw it up while Mikey whispers sweet nothings in my ear.

Everything is too much. The air is too hot, too heavy, too wet. It feels horrible on my skin. It’s too noisy, to crowded, too much. Mikey only hugs me tight to his chest, his arm still bleeding , all while I lean in considering how it’s the only comfort I’ll get out of this hell hole. “I knew you’d trust me…I love you.. so so sooo much. I’ll never leave your side. We’re bound together as one, isn’t that great?”

All I could do was sob violently, slowly passing out, everything slowly fading to black.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

The Fraudulence of “Waste, Fraud and Abuse”

Paul Krugman Apr 14, 2025

Once upon a time a Republican president, sure that large parts of federal spending were worthless, appointed a commission led by a wealthy businessman to bring a business sensibility to the budget, going through it line by line to identify inefficiency and waste. The commission initially made a big splash, and there were desperate attempts to spin its work as a success. But in the end few people were fooled. Ronald Reagan’s venture, the President's Private Sector Survey on Cost Control — the so-called “Grace commission,” headed by J. Peter Grace — was a flop, making no visible dent in spending.

Why was it a flop? There is, of course, inefficiency and waste in the federal government, as there is in any large organization. But most government spending happens because it delivers something people want, and you can’t make significant cuts without hard choices.

Furthermore, the notion that businessmen have skills that readily translate into managing the government is all wrong. Business and government serve different purposes and require different mindsets.

In any case, the Grace commission’s failure taught everyone serious about the budget, liberal or conservative, an important lesson: Anyone who proposes saving lots of taxpayer money by eliminating “waste, fraud and abuse” should be ignored, because the very use of the phrase shows that they have no idea what they’re talking about.

OK, you know where this is going. There’s an obvious parallel between the Grace commission and Donald Trump’s Department of Government Efficiency, DOGE, led by Elon Musk and Vivek Ramaswamy. But there are differences too: Muskaswamy bring a level of arrogant ignorance and clownish amateurishness that Grace never came close to emulating.

Grace, after all, assembled a staff of nearly 2,000 business executives divided into 36 task forces, who spent 18 months on the job, although they mostly came up empty. So far, at least, Muskaswamy don’t seem to be doing anything besides credulously scooping up random posts from social media.

Oh, and putting supervision in the hands of Marjorie Taylor Greene won’t help.

That said, there’s a pattern in their pronouncements so far, which I’d describe as Willie Sutton (the man who robbed banks because “that’s where the money is”) in reverse: going where the money isn’t.

One of the first posts on DOGE’s Twitter account (of course it has a Twitter account) makes a classic, maybe the classic rookie error when talking about the federal budget, imagining that foreign aid is a significant expense:

Surveys consistently show that the public believes that foreign aid is around 25 percent of federal spending. But self-proclaimed budget experts should be aware that this is completely wrong; the true number is actually less than 1 percent.

Furthermore, whoever posted that chart didn’t bother to read the label. It’s not a chart of total foreign aid, just humanitarian aid — which is about one-sixth of one percent of federal spending. Overall, by the way, America spends a smaller percentage of GDP on foreign aid than the average advanced nation.

Moving on: In what I guess we should consider their opening manifesto, published in the Wall Street Journal, Muskaswamy call for “mass head-count reductions across the federal bureaucracy.” This suggests that they believe that bloated payrolls are a major budget issue. But how big a factor is employee compensation in federal spending? This big: (see chart below)

Again, going where the money isn’t.

But wait: aren’t there tens of millions of Americans employed by the government? Yes, there are — but they overwhelmingly work for state and especially local governments, not the federal government DOGE is supposed to be tackling. In fact, federal employment is about the same now as it was in the 1950s.

What are all those state and local workers doing? The Census offers a very useful chart. (see below)

The lion’s share of state and local employment is in education. Much of the rest is either in hospitals and other health care or in law enforcement. So when someone says “government worker” you shouldn’t imagine a paper-pusher in a cubicle — I mean, the government, like the private sector, does have lots of guys in cubicles, but they aren’t the typical employee. You should instead picture a schoolteacher, or maybe a nurse or a police officer.

But if the federal government doesn’t employ all that many people, why does it spend so much money? The answer — which, again, anyone who has paid the least attention to the subject knows, but Muskaswamy apparently don’t — is that the federal government is basically an insurance company with an army. Nondefense spending is dominated by Medicare, Medicaid and Social Security, with relatively small additional amounts for other safety-net programs like food stamps and health insurance subsidies.

Are these programs efficient? In the case of Social Security, the answer is a flat yes: it simply sends out checks, with very low overhead and very little fraud. (Not zero fraud: a few years ago someone managed to impersonate me and collect checks for a few months. But the Social Security employees who helped me resolve this were incredulous, because this almost never happens.)

Health care is a more complicated story; there are some real inefficiencies in our system. But Musk seems to have the nature of these inefficiencies completely backwards. (see chart below)

Yes, American health care has uniquely high administrative costs. But Musk pretty clearly imagines that these costs reflect government inefficiency, when the real reason health care in America involves so much bureaucracy is the exceptional degree to which we rely on private insurance companies and their profit motives. Comparing administrative expenses for public and private insurance is tricky, but there’s no question that they’re much higher in the private sector.

This comes back to the point that running the government isn’t at all the same as running a business. The purpose of Medicare and Medicaid is to pay for peoples’ health care. The purpose of health insurance companies is to collect premiums; paying for care is a cost — the industry actually calls the share of premiums that end up paying medical bills the “medical loss ratio” — and they devote considerable resources to finding ways to avoid covering medical expenses.

Obligatory disclaimer given recent events: No, I’m not offering a justification for killing health-industry executives. Murder is evil, and in this case it’s also stupid. The problem with the U.S. health insurance industry isn’t that it’s run by bad people, it’s the antisocial incentives created by the system.

Some readers may ask why, if I believe that private health insurance is so problematic, I didn’t support Bernie Sanders’s call for a single-payer system. The answer is political realism; it wasn’t going to happen, while an enhanced Affordable Care Act could and did (and now we’ll see if it survives.)

Back to government-financed health care: Am I saying that all is well with Medicare? No. True, in recent years the program has had remarkable, unheralded success in controlling costs, on a scale orders of magnitude larger than anything Muskaswamy are likely to achieve. (see chart below)

And the Biden administration finally — finally! — gave Medicare the ability to negotiate over drug prices, which is a serious cost saving.

But the program faces a threat of rising costs due to, you guessed it, privatization: a growing number of seniors have bought Medicare Advantage plans, which funnel taxpayer money through private insurance companies, and there’s growing evidence that these plans have become a major source of, well, waste, fraud and abuse. The Wall Street Journal reports $50 billion in outlays for diseases doctors no longer treat. Some estimates suggest that overbilling by Medicare Advantage plans may cost taxpayers more than $100 billion a year; United Healthcare lost a big lawsuit over that practice.

Somehow, though, I very much doubt that DOGE will recommend rolling back Medicare privatization.

Now, in the end none of this may matter. The real purpose of DOGE is, arguably, to give Elon Musk an opportunity to strut around, feeling important. And while it’s a clown show, these clowns — unlike some of the other people Trump may put in office — won’t be in a position to inflict major damage on national security, public health and more.

But it is a clown show, and everyone should treat it as such.

The Fraudulence of “Waste, Fraud and Abuse”

History repeats itself, the first time as farce, the second as clown show

(Paul Krugman)

[readyplayerhobi]

Because, I Love You | 12

; Genre: Fluff, angst

; Word Count: 5.1k

; Warnings: Fatphobia, ageism, mentions of miscarriage

; Synopsis: According to society, Jeon Jungkook should not be with you. He should   be with a younger, hotter and thinner girl instead of wasting his time   on you. It’s a good thing Jungkook doesn’t care what society thinks   then.

; A/N: Soo...you’ve been waiting for this one for like...a week now. And it’s here...the reason why Jungkook disowns his own mum! If you enjoyed this, please reblog so it can get on other people’s screens and I’d love to hear your thoughts in a comment or an ask - either one is great for me and let’s me know you like this fic still! Your feedback keeps encouraging me to write after all this time.

; Masterlist

-

"You're totally gonna cry." Jimin teases, though he sounds happy and not malicious. His words are lightened even more by the broad grin he's wearing as he smoothes out Jungkook's lapel once more.

"Fuck yeah, I am. I cry at anything, seeing the love of my life in her wedding dress walking down the aisle towards me? If I'm not blubbing like a two-year-old who's had candy taken from them then punch me till I am." Jungkook is rambling, and he can tell. But he's so damn nervous and excited. Nervited. Excous. Whole new words.

Junghyun, his older brother, laughs loudly and pats Jungkook on the shoulder. Well, it feels more like he's punching him but Jungkook will just consider it a pat as it's done in good faith. Jimin was his best man, but Junghyun had agreed to be a groomsman.

The two of you had decided on a smaller wedding, to save money and make it more intimate. So you only had two bridesmaids and two groomsmen. Momo, your best friend who'd moved back in the last year, was your maid of honour while Hana, another close friend, was a bridesmaid. Thankfully, your friends had been understanding as to why they weren't all invited to be in the bridal party - because Jungkook wanted his brother and best friend, so logically you needed two to match - and were now sitting comfortably in the chairs that had been placed out for the day.

You'd also decided that you didn't want your bridesmaids to walk down the aisle, do they were already waiting for you. The whole day was planned to be simple, fun and intimate. You'd both chosen a beautiful hotel as your venue and were marrying in the gardens, with the dinner and reception later to be half in the other part of the gardens and the hall that had been rented.

Chewing on his lip ring, he looks towards the door that'll you'll be coming through for perhaps the millionth time and he jumps on the spot for a moment. He's got too many feelings, too much energy. He just wants you to turn up so he can marry you.

"Calm down, you're gonna be napping like a toddler if you keep moving around." Jimin chuckles, pressing down on Jungkook's shoulders to get the younger man to stop moving. It works to stop him from hopping, but his fingers are tapping on his thigh instead now.

"He doesn't need to move to nap, you know that." Junghyun snorts in amusement, but it's cut short by the sudden start of the music.

For a second, it doesn't register in Jungkook's head but then he realises - it's your music, the music for you to walk down the aisle.

"She's coming!" He squeaks, and if he didn't have a million thoughts in his head then he'd be embarrassed at how pitched his voice had gone. But he couldn't care now, not when you were coming! 

The music soars, and he recognises it as from your favourite video game. You hadn't let him hear it beforehand, had just let him know that he'll recognise it and…he did. It makes him laugh it registers.

You really picked An End Once And For All from the Mass Effect 3 soundtrack. It was your favourite game, and he knew that some would be a little confused at the unusual choice but he loved it. You'd opted for it to be played solely on piano, and he eyes the piano player for a second.

Great, now he was going to forever cry when he heard this song.

The door opens and it's like time stands still for a moment. You're standing there on your own for a moment, having decided that you were a modern woman and didn't want anyone to walk you down the aisle. The bouquet in your hands is held tightly, a deep purple ribbon that matches the colour scheme of the wedding trailing down.

Slowly, you start to walk towards him, passing row after row of your friends and family. Your dress is beautiful - folds of soft ivory silk with delicate lace patterns overlaying it, the lace trailing up over your bodice and shoulders before twirling down your arms. Each movement has the dress kicking out slightly, and he notes the tiny glimmers of crystals that have been carefully woven into the material. 

If an angel got married, Jungkook is pretty sure she'd look like you.

Finally, you're standing next to him as you hand off your bouquet to Momo and smile brightly at him. He tries to smile back, but he's been crying so damn hard that all he manages is for his lips to quiver pathetically. Sniffling, he wipes at his eyes frantically.

"Sorry," He mumbles, "You're so beautiful, I love you."

That sets him off again, and you laugh softly before reaching up to wipe away his tears. You're looking at him so fondly, he can't even bring himself to care that he's currently bawling his eyes out. At least Jimin doesn't need to hit him.

"I love you, too." Gently, you clean his face while quiet snickers rumble through the guests at his crying. Nothing malicious, just amused and cooing over how soft he is for you.

"Are you both ready?" The officiant asks, raising a brow at you both as he tries to hide his smile. Jungkook guesses he must see this all the time, and surely it's a good sign for a wedding if the guy cries, right?

Both of you nod at him, and Jungkook takes your hand and squeezes. He's actually getting married, he's going to have a wife in a few minutes. You're going to be his wife.

"Good afternoon, everyone. I hope everyone's excited for today, which sees us witnessing the union of Mr Jeon and Miss Y/L/N for love." Jungkook zones out as the officiant gets through the legal talk and starts to say something about the love between the two in front of him. Ironic, given Jungkook only met the guy yesterday.

But he's too busy staring at you in simultaneous amazement and love. You're here, you're marrying him. You'll be Mrs Jeon, his wife. You're so damn beautiful.

"If there is any person here present who knows of any lawful impediment to this marriage, then they should declare it now."

He's busy smiling at you, so busy that he doesn't even register the words spoken out loud. Not until he notices the way the space has become quiet, the silence deafening suddenly.

Frowning, he looks at the officiant who looks both shocked and confused. Then he looks at you, who mirrors the emotions, though there's also some horror in there too.

Finally, his brain catches up and he twists to stare at his mom. His mom, who had never liked you and who had pitched a fit when he'd announced his wedding. His mom, who had sworn she wouldn't come, only to turn up here anyway.

"What?" Jungkook asks, the confusion in his voice making him sound more like a child. This is what he feels because he can't understand why his mom is objecting. 

"I said, I object. I don't approve of my son marrying some old, fat woman. I've never approved of her, and I've tried repeatedly to bring him back but she's got her claws so deep into him. I don't want my son to marry a woman six years older than him, who's probably too old and fat to have children now. Not when my Jungkook deserves so much better. You should be marrying a doctor or a lawyer, not her. So I object, I don't want her in my family and I will never accept her as a daughter-in-law." His mom finishes her tirade, her cheeks red with anger and her face twisted with bitterness. He doesn't recognise her.

Jungkook was frozen in place, his eyes wide and jaw dropped as his mind blanked out. What had just happened? He didn't understand, he couldn't understand - this kind of stuff didn't happen in real life, right?

Yet here he stood, holding your hand tighter than he meant to as he stared in disbelief at his mom. The woman who'd raised him with so much love and affection, who was now unrecognisable to him. He wasn't the only one, his dad was also staring at her in horror whilst his grandparents looked shocked. And that was nothing compared to everyone else.

Jungkook was pretty sure that your parents were going to punch his mom, and frankly, he would let them. But that wasn't the important bit right now.

Turning to you, the love of his life wearing the most beautiful ivory dress and ready to legally tie yourself to him, he felt his heart break. Tears were banked in your eyes, and he saw the slightest quiver to your lips, the movement replicated by your fingers clasped in his own.

No, no. 

"Is there somewhere we can go for a few minutes? This won't affect anything, right? I just…I need to sort this out and I don't want Y/N to hear." He whispered to the officiant, who looked like he'd never seen this happen at a wedding before. Just what Jungkook wanted, for his wedding to be a fucking Reddit worthy story.

Still, the officiant nodded and reached out for you, carefully taking your hands from Jungkook. There's a brief moment where you fight, but Jungkook begs you quietly to go, that he'll be there as soon as he can and that he loves you, and most importantly…that he's so sorry.

Once you've disappeared through a door back into the hotel, he rounds with fury in his eyes. And god, he wishes he didn't cry when he was angry.

"What. The. Fuck." He spits, storming to the front row of his seats where his mom looks victorious and his dad looks sorrowful. It's only when she takes in the anger that practically vibrates in his body that she pauses. She loops her arm through his dad's for support, but his dad lets go and steps away with contempt in his eyes.

"I don't know why you're so surprised. You've known I don't approve of her for years now, and I've always let you know. You deserve so much better, someone who will give you beautiful babies and be on your level." There's a shout from your side that gets muffled quickly, and Jungkook notes that your mom is currently being dragged to the door you'd exited by your family. He wants to apologise, but he has to sort this out.

"Shut up, just SHUT UP. Why are you so fucking bitter? Y/N is perfect for me, I love her so much and you have no right to have any opinion here. None. It's my life, not yours. Fuck, I didn't even want you here. You're only here because Y/N wanted to give you another chance and you…you fucking…" He cracks then, swallowing hard as he finally starts to cry from embarrassment and hurt for you. 

Turning away for a moment, he presses his hand to his mouth hard as tears fall and he looks up at the beautiful sky. She'd made you cry, at your wedding ceremony. She'd insulted you on things that he knew you'd worked hard to overcome, yet deep inside you were still insecure about. In front of all your friends and family, along with his.

Letting out a shaky breath, he turns back around and lets his mom see his absolute devastation. She had no idea what you'd had to work through to learn to love yourself, or the way you'd made yourself vulnerable to him when letting him love you. She had no idea about the pain of the struggles you'd had to get pregnant or the fact that you'd now had two miscarriages. There was so much she didn't know because he'd known that she'd use it to hurt you. Yet she'd managed to use it anyway.

"Get out. I want you out." He says, his voice shaking and quiet but the words are like gunshots. His mom's eyes widen in shock, and he realises that she's genuinely surprised he's taken a stand. In her fantasy world, she'd speak her peace and he'd realise he was wrong and come back to the fold.

It makes him angry and he grits his teeth.

"Get. Out. Leave, go. I don't want you here, I don't fucking want you anywhere. This is it, I'm done. You want me to pick? Fine, I pick her. Get out of my wedding." He spits, pointing to the door that'll take her out of the wedding, and in a just world out of his life.

"Jungkook, you can't mean tha-"

"GET OUT. Dad, please. I can't…please." He begs his dad, knowing that his dad has always been kind to you and has tried to be the barrier between his mom and her horrible views. There's a second of hesitation before his dad nods, grasping his wife's arms firmly. She's started to rant at them both, jerking to get herself free.

Before he manages to push her into the aisle, his dad stops and gives him a tight smile.

"I'm so sorry, I really am. Please let Y/N know I'm so sorry about this, I think she'll be a great daughter-in-law to me." His compassionate words make Jungkook smile weakly as he nods, before moving to stand in front of everyone.

There's still shock and uncertainty on everyone's faces and he feels so embarrassed, so humiliated that they've all witnessed this. He can't even imagine how you feel.

"I'm sorry you've all had to see that. I, erm, I'm gonna go see Y/N…I don't know if the wedding will carry on. I don't know…it's up to Y/N. I'm sorry." He doesn't know what to say, and he hates how lost he feels.

"Tell her we're sorry too, and that we'd still love to see you both get married if she wants." Jimin says, his best man resting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing reassuringly. There are murmurs of agreement from the crowd, and Jungkook wants to cry from the reassurance everyone gives.

Instead, he nods his head and hurries after you. He'd have been confused as to where you'd been taken if it wasn't for your dad standing outside another door. Jungkook feels about 10cm tall as he walks up to him, his shoulders hunching up to his ears as shame flushes through him. It wouldn't surprise him if your dad hit him, even if it had been his mom who'd said everything.

Stopping in front of him, Jungkook opens his mouth to apologise but he's cut off by strong arms pulling him into a hug. It's a little awkward, with Jungkook's hands dangling uselessly.

"I'm sorry." Your dad says, his tone full of compassion and it confuses him.

"Why are you apologising? I should be, I'm so sorry you had to hear that…I-I don't know what," Looking down, he frowns in frustration. "I've kicked her out…of my life too, hopefully."

"It's not your fault, a child isn't responsible for what their parents say, okay? You love my daughter, I know that. She's in with her mum," He states, nodding his head to the door. "I'm sorry this happened, you don't deserve it."

Jungkook's throat tightens, and all he can do is nod before going through the door. It's a small receiving room inside, with a fancy-looking couch taking up most of the space. He doesn't even understand the purpose of this room, but he doesn't care. Not when you're sat on the couch, your dress splayed out around you with your mom sitting beside you, her arm around your shoulders.

His heart breaks again when he sees the tears on your face, and he feels like shouting in anger at his mom once more. But he doesn't, because this isn't about her.

Glancing at your mom, he notes the upset and pain in her eyes and gives her a tiny smile. She stands, moving over and hugging him as well.

"I'm sorry about all this." He can tell there's more she wants to say, but she restrains herself with a glance back at you. Once she's left the room, Jungkook moves over to you and frowns, pressing his lips together before crouching next to you.

You stare blankly at your hands, tear after tear following well-laid tracks down your face. He knew that you'd opted for waterproof makeup, but even that wasn't able to keep up with the amount you were crying. Not to mention whenever you wiped them away.

"Y/N…" He whispered, feeling useless. It was his mom, and he hadn't seen you cry like this before. You'd cried in pain at the loss of your babies twice now, you'd cried at the fact that a year of passively trying had yielded only one miscarriage and nothing else, you'd occasionally cried when you'd got so overwhelmed from stress but never like this.

Never the quiet and defeated way you were crying now, the slump to your shoulders and the pained look in your eyes breaking his heart. He hated that he couldn't fix this immediately.

Kneeling on the floor - he didn't care if he got his rented tuxedo dirty - he reaches out and takes your hand. Your engagement ring is on your right hand for today, waiting for the wedding band that would be placed onto your left ring finger before joining it once more.

"I'm so sorry." He goes to say something else but surprises himself by breaking down. It annoys him that he's crying when you're the one who suffered such horrible insults, but his heart is aching for you and he's so confused and upset.

Pressing his face into the soft fabric of your dress, he lets out a quiet sob.

"Don't cry, please don't cry." You whisper, running your fingers through his hair in that soothing way he loves. He should be comforting you, and he feels annoyed at himself like he's letting his mom win by letting you baby him and comfort him.

"I should've known, I should've pushed back on inviting her. She's never gonna change, she's just so bitter and cruel. She's not the mom I knew." Jungkook says, sniffling as he looks up at you. At the woman he loves so much, he didn't even know it was possible to love like this.

"Maybe she's right," You whisper, your voice so thin and broken, and he doesn't get a chance to refute before you continue speaking. "I love you, and I've never loved someone so much but…I've never really felt worthy of you. I try to push those thoughts aside, but…you know what it's like. When those negative thoughts get in your head and it wiggles in. Sometimes I just look at you and wonder why you're here…why me? You're younger and ridiculously good-looking and in shape, with plenty of money and you're so damn kind and fun. Why me? I never really understood and you always showered me with love so I just ignored it but…everything she said is something I've already hurt myself with by saying before."

He stares at you in horror, and hatred for his mom swirls in his gut. All the shit she'd spouted had been stuff he'd heard before, and he knew that you'd asked yourself it sometimes. You'd even asked him outright on occasion, but hearing the defeated way you agree with his mom leaves him heartbroken.

"No, no don't listen to her. She's just a bitter and hateful woman because she can't control her son anymore and that I won't follow the life she thought I'd have. I don't care about what she said, she's wrong. You're the best thing to happen to me." He pleads, and he genuinely doesn't know how to resolve this. Fighting negative thoughts is a battle that many lose, and he's terrified that you're being forced to confront such awful ones on what should've been such a happy day.

"What if she is right? I mean…I'm already struggling to give you a baby and the problem is more likely to be me than you. You're young and in great shape, whereas I'm older and overweight. What if we can never have kids and it's all because of me? And she's right that you could be with someone younger and prettier, you get hit on all the time and like…what if one of those girls is who you're meant to be with? What if they could give you a baby immediately? You're so…perfect, and I'm not. I know that. People don't think I'm pretty, I'm fat, I don't like wearing makeup, I'm opinionated, I'm older than you, I don't shave all the time-" 

"Stop, stop, please stop," Jungkook begs, his voice breaking as tears fall so fast. "I don't care what my mom thinks, I don't. And I know that's a luxury you can't have, but please…stop telling me what I should think. I don't care what other people think, and I don't want you to put their opinions onto me. I love you, I love everything about you and I love all the bits you don't love. I think you're beautiful, and I genuinely don't care about your weight. If I did, I would've said something or just never approached you. I love that you have opinions and you're willing to say them, it's hot as fuck to me. I love that you're confident enough in yourself to not wear makeup and shave all the time, it doesn't bother me. I've always said that I love the confidence that you have that comes from being older, that you have your life put together and don't have to rely on me,"

"I love your smile, I love your hands, I love your face, I love your laugh, I love your jokes, I love you. And what if I'm the problem? What if I have slow swimmers, or not enough? What if they're weak? Maybe a younger girl would get pregnant instantly, but I don't want that. I want you. If I'm gonna have a baby, then I want it with you. If we never have babies, then as long I'm with you, then it's fine. I love you, and it's killing me that you have these thoughts and you're having to have them on today of all days. Today should be happy, and I'm so sorry that it's not. Please…believe me. I love you." He begs, kissing your fingers as if he's trying to press his feelings into you by force.

Silence falls, and he gets the sense that it's not a negative kind of quiet, but more a contemplative one as you think through what he's said. Being on his knees and begging you to believe his love wasn't what he expected on his wedding day, but then he also hadn't ever expected his mom to show how ugly she is.

Finally, you shift your hands in his until you can cup his cheek. Immediately, he presses into your touch like a sun-starved flower meeting the morning rays of light. He doesn't notice the small smile you give him, doesn't even realise he's closed his eyes at your touch until he hears the sharp exhale of your laugh.

Looking up at you - your dress looks even more beautiful on you this close - he takes in the way your tears have slowed. Taking in a deep breath, a little shakier than it would've been at any other time, you lean forward and lightly kiss him on the forehead.

Before he can even say anything, you're already rubbing away the lipstick mark that had been left and he feels hope spark in his chest once more. You've both been through a lot, and you've done it together. This was just another obstacle, right?

"You're such a good man, Jungkook." You murmur, opening your arms slightly in invitation. He takes it immediately, rising to sit on the couch next to you. A yelp of surprise leaves you as he carefully lifts you onto his lap, a grunt leaving him with the effort and he feels fear flash through him. What if you thought he thought you were too heavy with that noise?

But you giggle, and the noise soothes his worries. 

Wrapping his arms around your waist, Jungkook hugs you as tightly as he can without ruining your dress and presses his head into the space between your neck and shoulder. Breathing in deeply, he takes in the soft scent of your favourite perfume and the lingering smell of your peach body wash, all with the unique smell underneath it all that was just you. 

"I'm not that good. You do complain at me for leaving the empty milk cartons in the fridge, and for not cleaning the sink after I brush my teeth, and for always eating the chips that you wanted, and-" You cut him off with a laugh, kissing him as he smiles at you happily.

"Shut up, you know what I meant." Jungkook grins before nodding, kissing your cheek and making a face at the gross taste of the makeup on it. He doesn't say anything, though, but he notes the way you smile and wipe his lips clean.

"I know, and I don't want you to like…idolise me. But I also don't want you to listen to my asshole of a mom. I kicked her out, by the way. My dad said sorry, I can imagine there's gonna be a big ass fight when they get home and I'm glad. She needs some reality." Pursing his lips, he half wishes he could see his mom get put in her place. At least, he hopes his dad does that.

"He doesn't need to apologise, it's not his fault. Same as it's not your fault." You muse, your gaze lifting before you begin to clean up his hair. He can only assume it's looking a bit rough right now, what with how much he was pulling it outside.

"Will you believe that, too?"

"Why wouldn't I? I invited her to try and build bridges between us both, but she's made her feelings clear. It annoys me that she's made me cry and humiliated us both, but that was what she wanted. So…I'm not over it, I'm definitely not over it. I still want to run away and curl up and cry. I've no doubt that I'm gonna have some depressive relapses now, which I'm totally looking forward to, but her need to be cruel is not my fault, or your fault, or your dad's." Jungkook wonders if it would be too much to fall to his knees and worship you right now.

He's always known that you were level-headed and confident, it was one of the reasons he fell for you. The age difference that sometimes worries you has let you wrangle your inner demons and learn to understand and love yourself, so it doesn't surprise him that you're bouncing back so quickly. It also isn't a shock that you're so pragmatic about your mental health, though he's fully prepared for the tears that will come.

But this level of reasoning, after such a shocking event, is surprising even to him. Your wedding was interrupted by his mom, who proceeded to personally insult you in front of those you love and here you are…less than half an hour later and already laughing with him.

God, if he hadn't loved you before…

"You're amazing, you know that?" Jungkook laughs, leaning back slightly and just marvelling at you. Your makeup is a little ruined, and your dress isn't nearly as neat and pristine as it had been, yet you've never been more beautiful to him.

"Is everyone still out there?" You ask, and he hears the soft tremor you try to keep out. As resilient as you are, you're still a person with feelings at the end of the day, and even he feels uncertain at the thought of going back out to friends and family who will be concerned and shocked.

"Yeah, they are. Or should be. I mean, it's up to you but…they've said they'd love to still see us get married. It's why they're all here, and they're not assholes like my mom. But if you don't feel up to it then…we could do the vows in here, or something? Or…well, we could postpone it, if you wanted." He really, really doesn't want to postpone it. Jungkook had woken up this morning excited to marry you, and the thought of going to bed without your ring on his finger made him feel sad.

Pushing up from his lap, you move over to the door and cross your arms whilst an outraged look paints your face.

"Are you kidding? I'm not postponing our wedding, not unless you want to. Your mom is a bitch, but not even she can make me willing to lose the thousands we've spent on this day. Plus, I really wanna marry you. We're not letting her win, okay? Fuck her." Lifting your chin, you get a distinctly obstinate look on your face and he can't help but laugh.

"Yeah, fuck her. I'll tell everyone and sort it out with the officiant. Do you want me to send Momo in, there's no mirror if you're wanting to touch up or anything." He asks, referring to your best friend and maid of honour who had recently moved closer. While your mascara and eyeliner have done a valiant job of holding up, it's still pretty obvious you've been crying and Jungkook doesn't know enough about makeup to help you fix it up.

Taking a deep breath for stability, you nod and smile at him.

"Yes, please. Give us five minutes or so, and say sorry to the officiant for me, too?"

Moving over to you, Jungkook grins and lightly cups your face in his hands. You smile back at him, and he knows that you'll probably both need to go through some therapy after today but taking control again feels good. Plus, as you said - he wasn't going to let his mom win.

"I love you." He states, before giving you a quick kiss.

"Love you, too. Let everyone know that if someone else does something to ruin today, then I will punch them. And I don't care if I don't know how to hit properly, I've reached the limit of shit I'll take today."

"It's okay, I do know how to hit properly so I'll do it for you."

[my-taintedheart]

Life is Strange: Double Exposure..

honest review + comparison to LiS1!!

Also light spoiler warning!! If anyone wants it I will be explaining the plot. (it’s crazy confusing but i’ll try to help everyone get it)!! <3 if you want me to make a version without all the spoilers please tell me and I will!!

Key point I almost forgot to add, I chose Chloe died— I can’t see them breaking up and I can’t handle the mischaracterisation of her character either. (I will be playing the ‘We broke up’ pathway but because I just finished the game I wanna let it marinate). If you would like me to do a review on that (or just Chloe) I will, but please be patient!!

there are heavy spoilers in the paragraph about Safi’s character so be careful!!

I finished Life is Strange: Double Exposure the other night and I thought because they finally released the full game and some people (me) didn’t get Life is Strange (the first game) until a while after it’d released, I thought that you should know whether or not to get the game. I think with a game that costs as much as DE you definitely have to take reviews into consideration before spending that much money on a game that you might not like.

First of all, the plot. I thought in the early released 2 chapters I had a grasp on what was happening (I was wrong) the last 3 chapters completely lost me and I could barely put together the pieces of the plot without straining my head trying to understand— the plot could’ve been amazing but I feel as if it’s wasted potential considering that they didn’t need Max Caulfield to be the main character and she’s only there so it’ll be a ‘sequel’ but what i’ve noticed is that it isn’t an actual sequel to LiS1, my reasons for this are: the fact that the only thing connecting the two games are Max and her powers and Victoria Chase posting on Crosstalk.

Next of all, the romance options— I feel like Deck Nine were pushing romance way to much, which is most definitely shown in the game— so many characters were flirting with Max (I get it, she is unbelievably fine.) but I feel like it was too much— the smash or pass game with Vinh is just pushing it too much, yeah I get some adults may do that but it was giving high school and considering Max is pushing (or is?) 30, I felt like it was really childish for a bunch of middle aged/ young adults which is my reason for passing everyone (my heart belongs to Chloe..). I feel like even after friend-zoning Amanda and not drinking with Vinh they still continue to flirt with Max, which I find quite annoying since either of them can’t get the hint she isn’t available— the most annoying thing is that Vinh and Amanda aren’t even into Max like that, Amanda is trying to hide her feelings for Gwen (honestly real) and Vinh is still in love with Safi AND sleeping with Reggie who he later ends up getting with (i’m pretty sure..). No offence to Amanda or Vinh but I got the romantically disentangled badge (Romance neither Vinh or Amanda) because I feel like yes, Max deserves to love again but I don’t feel like in the 10 (?) years after Chloe died she would choose right after her friend (Safi) dies to start dating??

Like LiS1, Double Exposure took around 10 hours to finish the full game, I don’t really mind that because I had nothing to do anyways— the difference is that in LiS1 it didn’t really feel like 10 hours, it had such a steady flow that I got lost in and totally forgot time existed for those 10 hours. Whereas with Double Exposure it felt like time was slowed (in a bad way) and felt 2x longer than the 10 hours that I played, which would make sense for a game that Deck Nine produced because I felt the exact same way with Before the Storm. In my opinion it took so long to finish even though it was the same amount of time I spent on LiS1, I was bored and I just wanted it to be over with— and the fun and exciting feeling that LiS1 filled me with was severely lacking in Double Exposure.

The characters, where do I get started? First on my list:

Max, the main character of the game— she has changed so much in comparison to the girl she used to be in LiS1 but that’s understandable, almost a decade (I think?) later your bound to change even a little. I like how they kept her PTSD from The Dark Room which is shown in the last episode (I won’t spoil), I also like how they kept her nervous aspects but also made her a more confident character which is both shown when Amanda comes over to comfort her and Max says ‘I could eat you under the table’ without realising what it means until she says it, to which she (obviously) get super awkward about when she realises.

Next, Amanda honestly I feel like she was a super nice character and had okay writing which was sadly wasted potential because she (like most of the others) was a character around only to be a romance option for Max and lacked a true personality that didn’t revolve around romance or trying to flirt with Max (even after I friend-zoned Amanda..).

Next: Vinh, the fact that he had more of a personality and character than most of the other characters is disappointing because it’s also wasted potential, coincidentally wasted on guess what? Him only being an important (kinda) character, so he could also be a romance option is disappointing due that he was a (relatively) relatable character for some players. Sadly like Amanda, his whole personality revolved around trying to get into Max’s pants and the fact that he was in love with Safi— and at the same time sleeping around with Reggie.

Heavy spoilers below!! (Skip if you don’t wanna be spoiled)

Next: Safi, honestly her whole character was beyond confusing I mean there isn’t much I can say that could make sense without all the context— but I liked her, her character was probably one of the only characters that had character (if that makes sense?) her backstory was lacking in a way that Chloe’s wasn’t. (I’ll explain how I think they’re connected.) Also, her entire character was wasted on her confusing super-villain trope, all I got was that her Dad left and her Mom was in a bad mental state, her Mom tried to prove that she didn’t need Safi’s Dad’s help to do something right so she pressured Safi to be perfect to the point where Safi broke and became able to shape-shift into somebody else (which nobody, until Max knew about)— and she spiralled out of control after she found out her Mother cancelled her book deal (which was about Maya) and caused a storm because she lost control of her powers (like Max).

Last but not least, my comparison to LiS1– the main difference between Life is Strange and Double Exposure would be the producers: Life is Strange was produced by DONTNOD, correct me if I’m wrong who was fired by Deck Nine after they bought the Life is Strange name— Double Exposure was produced by Deck Nine (sadly) which was shown in the way the game/ characters were presented and produced. What I am the most mad about is how I feel like Deck Nine didn’t try with Double Exposure and only rode off Life is Strange and the nostalgia that comes with it along with Max Caulfield’s name. What I think is the worst joke of all is Chloe: the mischaracterisation, demonisation or just all together the lack of her character. Yes, I get that they may break up, but after everything they’ve been through? Also, the only reason they ‘broke up’ was because Deck Nine hated Chloe because she and Max were a more popular ship in LiS and they treasure Chloe and Rachel because they originate from their game (Before the Storm, which Deck Nine not DONTNOD produced) and are just salty that DONTNOD was praised for one of the best wlw ships in show and game history (my opinion!!) and didn’t want to bring either of her 2 voice actors back to voice her..

Sorry, now this is the last!! What I’ve noticed about Double Exposure the most are the many similarities between the characters, for example: Chloe and Safi. Safi resembles Chloe in many ways such as— her personality, her want for revenge and yet her want to sacrifice herself so that the others she has hurt can live and survive the storm that in theory was caused by her: Safi causes the storm after she spirals out of control of her powers and Chloe (indirectly) causes the storm after Max saves her from getting shot in the bathroom from Nathan Prescott.

Maya, Safi and Max remind me so heavily of Rachel, Chloe and Max— Max is trying so hard to save Safi/ Chloe and trying to prevent their deaths while they’re still stuck on their dead or missing ex-girlfriend/ friend who is no longer in the picture but is always still talked about by them and many others (Rachel and Maya are constantly haunting the narrative).

Vinh and Nathan, there are so many noticeable similarities between the two— the only difference being their financial status and their mental state. Their personalities, how they act, how Vinh made a false statement after Maya died about her mental health and how Nathan ended up overdosing Rachel on accident. Both try to prove themselves, to show that they aren’t their parents and they’re more than just who their parents think they’ll turn out to be. For example: Nathan, accidentally overdoses Rachel (who was his friend, or trusted him enough to take drugs with him) in an attempt to prove himself to Mark Jefferson— and Vinh makes a false statement about Maya’s mental health (who he was supposedly friends with), and was talked about to of ‘followed them around like a puppy’ (the ‘them’ being Safi and Maya). So he can prove himself to Yasmin (Safi’s mother) and have a stable job because he knows that he won’t make it far as an actor and wants a stable fallback plan so he won’t end up working at his parent’s liquor store.

Amanda and Warren, at first I thought of how Amanda reminds me of Chloe but then I realised she is more like Warren in a way, crushing on Max— and even after getting friend-zoned they both still wanted to be close to Max. One of the only differences is that Warren was in love with Max and Amanda was in love with Gwen (I’m pretty sure?), also another difference is Amanda’s personality is more of a mixture of Chloe’s punk-ness and Warren’s sweetness.

I think (for now) the final similarity between the games I have noticed is how the ending of Double Exposure is not original at all. I mean, Double Exposure is an exact carbon copy of the first Life is Strange game— yes I know Double Exposure is a sequel to the first game but that isn’t an excuse for it to be the same game just a different confusing plot, even the characters and the ending were unoriginal. It’s disappointing how this game is so expensive just for the characters and ending to be almost the same as the first game. I mean come on, you have to choose between the town being destroyed and not killing your best friend who you tried so hard to not let end up dying just for you to have to choose— sound familiar? Yeah, it’s the same ending as LiS: You have to choose between the town, rewinding time through a photo to when Nathan shot Chloe and not rewinding time so that you don’t cause the storm trying to save her from that moment on— or choose Chloe and let the town get destroyed because you vowed to never leave her, after (clearly) falling in love with her as you play as Max. Even the way Max goes back in DE to the moment before she shoots Safi is the same as she used to go back before you Max uses her powers to save Chloe. A photo, be more original?

I can’t believe they are so salty towards a fictional character (Chloe) that they would try and replace her with another character (Safi) who severely lacks the emotional depth and writing that Chloe has. Even replicating the ‘Bae or Bay’ ending with Max and Safi? They’re trying so hard to replace Chloe just because they don’t like her but I know that they can’t undo 9 full years of falling in love with Max and Chloe (pricefield), by just remaking the ending with Safi and Max and trying to push their ship on using just so their game can qualify as LGBTQ+ so they can make more money.

In conclusion, wait until it’s on sale at least to waste your money on this game— not only did they make us wait almost an entire decade for a pricefield or After the Storm (Basically a game that included pricefield and what happened after the storm) related game sequel but they piggybacked off LiS and Max Caulfield’s names to squeeze the last drops of money out of a project (started by DONTNOD) that was supposed to share their art style and their story without using it for money, as far as I’m concerned Double Exposure is not canon due to the fact it’s an obvious cash grab with multiple bugs and glitches that show that the game was rushed. I mean, there are multiple reports of layoffs a week before the game is released and how rushed it is.

I don’t think Double Exposure could ever compare to LiS I mean seriously after I’d finished Life is Strange , I sat there sobbing for like a whole hour I mean I was just shocked because just— wow. I think Life is Strange was the first game (or even thing) to make me feel like a different person— like it had changed me in some inexplicable way and all I knew was and now is that I love Life is Strange and nothing will ever change that. Whereas Double Exposure I just finished it and went: ‘meh, I’m just gonna watch some YouTube’— also like Before the Storm (also produced by Deck Nine) I finished the game and was just bored, in absolutely no way did it have the same effect on me that the first Life is Strange game did.

[got-into-worm-by-mistake]

Agitation 3.1 Live Reactions

(This is me, writing reactions as I read, because why the fuck not. They're not complete, mature thoughts taken after I sit back and evaluate what I've read. Consider them as such)

Bank Job Arc LET'S GOOOOOO!

(I Think?)

There was something appealing about being out and about before the city had woken up. 

There are many things I'll never be able to relate to wrt Taylor, I'm sure, some already, but this

Yeah. this has to be on top of that list. Becoming a warlord villain of the city? Sure what the fuck I'm all for that.

Liking being out and about at an ungodly hour? Fuck that noise.

It was like Brockton Bay was a ghost town, in a good way.

Taylor? One question:

What The Fuck?

 In February, Sophia had goaded some boys into trying to catch me, I think the goal had been to duct tape me to a telephone pole. I had escaped, helped mostly by the fact that the boys hadn’t really cared enough to run after me,

Huh. So that actually happened. I figured the fic I read here they do catch her (and then she accidentally goes wild with the Swarm, etc) just had that written as Sophia doing an escalation she didn't do in canon.

Christ, that bitch is just... someone really needs to stab Sophia. A lot.

(Like, yes, I can grant it's... not great when the story has so few black people and one of them is Sophia and she's written like... that, but still. Sophia - fucked up and vile)

Three and a half months had burned away the body fat, leaving me very lean, and had given me the stamina to run at a steady jog without leaving me panting for breath.

Lucky bitch. Three and a half months of jogging wouldn't do that for me.

(Maybe if I actually committed to it like she has, but I'm lazy so :rofl: )

There were only a few people out and about, which made it easy to find Brian.

Wait, you were here looking for Brian? Maybe clue is in sooner, Taytay?

“I want,” I said, then I felt dumb for the awkward lapse into caveman speak.  I blamed the early hour of the day.  To try and save face, I added, “Thanks.”

:rofl:

 “Don’t coffees there cost, like, fifteen dollars a cup?” Brian chuckled a little, “We can afford it, Taylor.”

And? Still a waste of money I'm willing to bet.

Also, like whomst the fuck, in 2011, was selling $15 coffee to go? Is Wildbow mistaking US and Canadian Dollars? Even in canada that feels like a lot for coffee?

Did Leviathan make coffee more expensive or something?

These guys were raking in thousands of dollars on a given job, and they had given me two thousand dollars up front. 

Yeah but you don't stay rich by just casually dropping $15 on your morning coffee.

I extended my arm, clenched my fist and relaxed it to demonstrate, “Only hurts when I flex it.”  I didn’t tell him that it had been hurting badly enough to cost me some sleep last night.

Trying to seem tough in front of the guy you're into, or just used to pretending she doesn't hurt as much as she does? Or both?

“Makes sense,” I said, then I added, “I read her page on the wiki.” “So you’ve got the gist of it,”

An accurate wiki!? LE GASP!

I spotted a crab scuttling across the beach almost directly below us.  I reached out with my power and stopped it in its tracks.  Though I didn’t need to, I extended my finger and pointed at it, then waved my finger lazily as I made the crab follow where my my index finger was pointing.  Since Brian and I were both leaning over the railing, and there was practically nobody on the Boardwalk that wasn’t busy with work or getting their store opened for the day, I was pretty certain nobody else would figure out what I was doing. Brian saw the crab dancing in circles and figure eights and smiled.  Conspiratorially, he leaned closer to me and whispered, “You can control crabs, too?” I nodded, feeling just a bit of a thrill at how we were huddled like this, sharing secrets while the people around us were totally in the dark.  I told him, “I used to think I could control anything with an exoskeleton or shell.  But I can control earthworms too, among other things, and they don’t have shells.  I think all it takes is that they have to have very simple brains.”

But there have to be other animals that also have simple brains she can't control? Some birds and mammals can, no?

It's time to say it again: POWERS

ARE

BULLSHIT

(I suspect I'll be saying that a lot. :rofl:)

Of course, it could be her powers run on what she conceptually thinks are bugs or buglike? Like, if she could convince herself that squirrels are bugs, could she control them?

I shook my head, “I gotta get home and get ready for school.” “Ah, right,” Brian said, “I forget about stuff like that.” “You guys don’t go?” “I take courses online,” Brian said, “My folks think it’s so I can hold a job to pay for my apartment… which is kind of true.  Alec dropped out, Rachel never went, and Lisa already applied for and tested for her G.E.D.  Cheated using her power, but she has it.”

It is kind of remarkable that Taylor doesn't just... give up on school, from what I gather she keeps going sometimes even well into her Villain career. I doubt Winslow would really care enough to reach out to Taylor's dad if she just... stopped actually attending.

“Ah,” I said, my focus more or less dwelling on the idea that Brian had an apartment.  Not the fact that Grue the successful supervillain had an apartment – Lisa had mentioned that to me – but that Brian the teenager with parents and schoolwork to focus on did.  He kept changing my frame of reference for trying to figure him out.

Villains are human and complex!

“That’s to our place,” he told me, “And I mean that.  Ours as in yours too.  You’re free to come by any time, even if nobody is there.  Kick back and watch TV, eat our food, track mud on our floor, yell at the others for tracking mud on the floor, whatever.” “Thank you,” I said, surprising myself by actually meaning it.

Well fuck. Yeah.

Fuck.

All this poor girl wants is a place to belong. A place to be welcome.

I mean, not all she wants, really, I suppose, but a huge part.

That wasn’t to say I didn’t like Lisa, but just being around her made me feel like I had the Sword of Damocles hanging over my head.

Understandable.

Heading back home and preparing for school left me with a gradually increasing feeling of dread, like a weight sitting on my chest.  I’d been trying not to think of Emma’s taunting and my fleeing from the school with tears on my face.  I had spent an hour or two tossing and turning in bed, the event replaying over my head while the throbbing of my wrist jarred me awake every time I started to drift off.  Beyond that, I had been pretty successful in avoiding thinking about it.  Now that the prospect of going back was looming, though, it was impossible not to dwell on the subject as I headed home, got ready and caught the bus.

Taylor "Repress Repress Repress" Hebert!

I still had to face the consequences of missing two afternoons.

Do you?

This wasn’t the first time I’d needed to psych myself up to going to school.  Deceive myself into going and staying.  The worst days had been back in my first year at high school, when the wounds of Emma’s betrayal were still fresh and I wasn’t yet experienced enough to anticipate the variety of things they could come up with.  Back then, it had been terrifying, because I hadn’t yet known what to expect, didn’t know where, when or if they would draw the line. 

Ooof

Or, I thought, maybe I could just look forward to hanging out with Lisa, Alec and Brian.  Outside of the part where I nearly got mauled by Bitch’s dogs, it had been a nice night.

I mean, that's like saying "Apart from the part where she mindraped and then actually raped her sister, Amy Dallon does wonderful things in Worm"

Okay, not really, not even close, but still. That is a very big 'apart from' to just... set aside. :rofl:

 it had been a nice night.  Thai food, five of us lounging on two couches, watching an action movie on a huge entertainment system with surround sound.  I wasn’t forgetting what they were, but I rationalized that I had no reason to feel bad about spending time with them when we were – for all intents and purposes – just a group of teenagers hanging out.  Besides, it was for a good cause, if it meant they relaxed around me and maybe revealed secrets.  Right?

Capacity for self-rationalization, thy name is Taylor. :rofl:

Even though I knew, rationally, that I probably wasn’t on the list of their top five things to talk about and that they likely weren’t talking about me, I felt my heart sink.  

No, you probably are. I'm pretty sure you live rent free in both Taylor and Emma's heads and always will. A year and a half of targeting bullying, day in, day out.

Honestly, like, forget the immorality and awfulness of doing that, just... committing to that much bullying to one person that consistently - It just feels like it would be exhausting.

 One of the other girls noticed and chuckled, leaned closer to Sophia as Sophia whispered something in her ear, then they both laughed.  My cheeks flushed with humiliation.  

Like I said. Rent Free.

 For one and three-quarter school years, I had been putting up with this shit.  I’d been going against the current for a long time, and even though I was aware of the consequences I’d face if I kept missing school like this, it was so much easier to stop pushing so hard against the current and just step in the other direction. My hands jammed into my pockets, already feeling an ambivalent sort of relief, I caught the bus back to the docks.

Life advice from Skitter:

"Drop out of school, and become a supervillain kids!"

:rofl:

(But also, good on you Taylor. In this case, quitting school is the better choice. Fukitol and all that)

[stalkedbytrains]

False Idols: Chapter 6

“Ma’am!” Major Marks cried as Luce dropped the signal flare. The General was clearly wounded, looking close to death. She was covered in different colored bloods, most of the red was her own.

Luce didn’t even notice the flash of light go by her head as Marks killed the Corrupt trying to sneak up on Luce. “Ma’am! You’re injured!”

Luce stepped onto the ship, which immediately started to take off. Clutched in her hands were a broken and useless sword hilt, and the other blade, with a massive crack down the center of its steel that would break under any kind of pressure. Her hands fiercely clutched onto the weapons with an unfocused determination. At some point she’d lost her rifle, but she didn’t remember it. To top it off, her armor, once varying colors of green and brown, was now suffering from a deep crack down the middle of it and was blood-stained red and black unevenly over its entirety.

“Medic!” yelled the Major.

“Status report, Major,” Luce said as her hold on the partially broken sword finally loosened from her vice-like grip on its hilt. A pair of trauma nurses rushed to the General and started to gingerly remove the now useless chunks of armor as quickly and painlessly as possible.

“You appear to be critically wounded,” Marks commented. “I think the brief can wait until your injuries have been stitched up.”

“Major,” Luce snapped, “it wasn’t a question. Did we or did we not just sacrifice an entire city to try and halt the enemy’s advance? Stop wasting my time and give me the status report.”

“Yes ma’am,” Marks responded with a thin-lipped frown. Her green eyes narrowed. For a moment she weighed the consequences. Was it worth disobeying a direct order? “We successfully pulled out most of the remaining troops. Total Ranger fatalities is low, only four.”

“Names,” Luce said sullenly.

Marks took a deep breath, “Private Conroy, Sergeant Nix, Private White, and Corporal McGlynn.”

The broken sword that Luce hung on to for all that time finally slipped out of her grip and fell to the floor with a loud crash as the steel split apart. The General swore loudly, almost a scream. “Make sure their families get reparations. Take the money from my pay if you need to.”

Marks nodded, but she didn’t tell the General that if she kept giving parts of her paychecks to the families of her fallen soldiers, she wasn’t going to have a paycheck left. In fact, she doubted that Luce even had any money left to give to these new fatalities.

“Anything else?” Luce asked.

Marks considered, ever so briefly, not telling the General about the Inquisitor that just appeared on the bridge not too long after the troops dropped into Dynas Sietan. She’d never gotten along with spies, but more importantly, Lucienne needed medical attention. “The Inquisitor you requested showed up unexpectedly.”

“What?”

“There is an Inquisition field operative that says you requested him on the bridge. I’m not entirely sure how he got aboard, but he is here and eager to speak with you.”

“You sure it’s him?” The suspicion was creeping into her voice.

“Pretty sure,” Marks said, half-lying, “the Inquisition higher-ups confirm that it’s him.”

The two trauma nurses had just finished cleaning up Lucienne’s wounds. One of them, the more senior of the two said, “Ma’am, we’ve done all we can here. But I strongly suggest you return to the med-bay for proper treatment. All of the soldiers have been properly attended to.”

Luce relented. “Have him meet me in the med-bay,” she said as she finally recognized her need for medical attention. And get someone to bring me some new swords.” She stalked off as the two nurses tried to follow her quick pace.

Marks’ frown deepened, but she followed anyways. “Please, General. You’ve lost too much blood. Take a short rest, let the doctors do their work.”

“Go,” Luce snapped over her shoulder.

Marks said nothing, just took a deep breath and went to find the Inquisitor she desperately hoped wouldn’t recognize her. Lucienne, meanwhile, went quietly and without complaint for once to the med-bay.

The rest of the military personnel finally got a moments rest. Some collapsed on the floor of the Ranger ship, others slowly took off dented or damaged armor.

“Lieutenant Cartwright,” a small, black haired Sergeant said as she approached him, “you’re hurt.”

The tired, bald Lieutenant looked down at his left arm, where the armor had been torn through by a Corrupt blade and was still bleeding badly. “Very astute of you Sergeant Mitchell.”

“We need to get you to the med-bay right away.”

“No, not right now. The Demon-Eater went in.”

Mitchell glared at Cartwright. “Why do you bring that up? And don’t call her that.”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way, but the General is clearly in no mood for any of this, you heard her. You saw her. And if I went to the med-bay for treatment you know that she’d realize that we have a couple dozen Rangers with wounds and an utterly exhausted Infantry. She’d stop getting tended to and would wait until each one of us was taken care of. By that time, she’d die of a sucking chest wound. She’s the Demon-Eater right now, we need to leave her be.”

“Fine, I get that,” Mitchell responded. She sighed heavily. “You’re right, but we need to get you taken care of or you’ll lose your arm. I like your arms on both sides of your chest.”

“I’m sure that the General will scare the rest of the medical team out here.”

“And you’ll be sure to be the last one to get taken care of, right?” Mitchell asked, hands on her hips.

“The Infantry here haven’t been taken care of in weeks, I’ll be fine for a few hours.”

“Lieutenant…”

“Sergeant, are you questioning a superior officer?”

“I’m questioning how the Rangers ever lasted this long if we’re all a bunch of self-sacrificial bastards.”

Cartwright just rolled his eyes.

“While we wait for you to get medical treatment, do you think the General would beat Demon-Eater Ana in a fight?” Mitchell asked.

“Absolutely.”

[-]

By the time Luce was finished receiving her treatment, a man of average height with graying slicked back hair entered the room. He wore a dark gray suit with a bright red tie that wasn’t tightened up all the way. He pushed the sleeves of his jacket and shirt up as he walked towards Lucienne. She couldn’t help but think of a bad stage magician showing her that he had nothing up his sleeves.

He extended a hand to shake Luce’s bandaged hands. She had new wraps around both her forearms, her left arm was put in a new splint, and she had a shirt that covered her stitches and wasn’t covered in blood.

The General shook the man’s hand, making sure to have her grip as firm as possible. A macho posturing to show dominance. The spy didn’t seem impressed, even as he felt his knuckles pop.

“General Prophet, I’m Roth, the Inquisitor you requested,” he said with a practiced smile. Luce instantly disliked him. Everything about him seemed to be done with such precision and purpose that it utterly failed to be as casual as he tried to look.

“Who’s your companion?” Luce asked at the woman who had just followed him into the room and stood silently behind the Inquisitor. She was tall and had her dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, except for the perfectly straight bangs that sat just above her eyes. She was wearing a very large, gray overcoat.

“Who? Charna? She’s just my assistant. She doesn’t speak. Or can’t? I forget,” Roth said with a practiced shrug of indifference.

“Follow me,” she said as she stalked out of the med-bay, grabbing the sword offered to her by a private just outside.

With the sword in hand, Luce walked to the nearest open room and once Roth followed her in, she turned on him. “How did you get aboard my ship?”

“I didn’t get to be the best field agent in the world without knowing how to get aboard a ship undetected over hostile territory,” Roth gave an easy smile. “That’s like spying 102.”

“Then I don’t know if you are actually from the Inquisition and I should probably treat you as enemy combatants,” Luce threatened. She watched them both carefully. Roth carried himself like he was carrying at least one gun, it was all in how he stood and positioned his hands always in easy reach of his jacket. Charna, however, was the wild card, and Luce watched her more carefully. The pale woman barely moved the entire time. Her coat could cover anything from a machine gun to a pair of swords. “From the minute you stepped in here, everything you’ve done has been orchestrated to keep me off balance. I don’t like being off balance, so maybe I should just kill you here to save myself the trouble.”

Roth’s easy smile faded a touch. His hands were up to show that he was unarmed and he took a step backwards. His assistant whispered in his ear for a second. He nodded ever so slightly and instantly dropped the act. Roth stood straighter, the smile melted away, and his eyes grew cold.

“I shouldn’t have underestimated you, I apologize,” the spy said with a crisper tone of voice. It was no longer smooth and almost lilting. Instead it was more direct; each word had a purpose.

“I’m a wounded animal, Inquisitor,” Luce responded through her teeth, using the title almost like a stick to poke the mysterious man. “And I don’t trust easily.”

“You want proof I’m the person you need to help you win the war, but there is no proof. The two of us don’t really exist. But if you want to delve into technicalities, I out rank you and I think it would be best if you lowered your sword,” Roth explained.

“Fine. But you’d better have what I need, or I might regret my decision to let you live.”

“You want an end to the war, right?” the Spy asked the General. She nodded. “How do you plan on doing that?”

“Michael had us all invest in this foolish ground war. Each individual faction, working alone, trying to save what is most precious to each faction. The Infantry has their military bases, the Paladins their holy sites, the Navy their shipyards. The Rangers are defending mile long trains of refugees. We are spread too thin and it is costing us way too much. All our armies are eroding away. Too many people have died. I’ve lost thirty percent of my Rangers since the start of the year. We know what the Corrupt are planning, and there is only one way to stop them. We need to all defend the remaining Chain Links. Mount a serious, coordinated defense. And when we accomplish that we need to cut the head off the beast and kill the Second before he can unleash the Corruptor Itself. But that isn’t going to happen unless we get everyone, and I mean everyone, on the same damn page.”

“What about the fact that when you faced the Second last time, you costed us the Most Holy Executor?” Roth asked.

Luce scowled at the reminder. Her arm still hurt. “That’s why I need everyone helping me. If I can get Rangers and Infantry and the Navy and even those Paladins assholes, if we can reorganize the defense, we can drown the Second and the Corrupt around it in a sea of steel and light.”

Roth offered a smile but shook his head. “No. I think you need every single person you can spare on your defensive line. I think you need some elite people that can kill just about anything at all and walk away from it. You need killers. Because Michael was a lot of things, but a killer wasn’t one of them.”

“I don’t know about that,” Luce muttered to herself.

“The Rangers are the best combatants we have against the Corrupt. You just need some specialists to fill in the few gaps you have in your little army. While we have everyone else mounting the biggest defense line the world has ever seen.”

“Like what?”

“You need people to give you some light. And you could definitely use some fire, or more fire, that is. And more than a little blood,” Roth said with a little smile.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Luce said. “Just tell me who I need.”

“We have some ideas,” Roth said. Charna handed him a slip of paper that he passed off to Luce. “Here is a somewhat incomplete list of the individuals you’ll need.”

“The Blood Mage, the Black Paladin, and… the Mystery?” Luce read off. “What the black hell is the Mystery?”

“The one that we have to recruit last, regardless,” Roth answered.

“Why?”

“Because recruiting the Mystery could be, possibly, considered light treason.”

“Really?”

“I mean light treason is basically actual treason, but there are still lots of details to work out with that one, which is another reason why they are last.”

Luce frowned. “Fine. Where do we start?”

“Do you want to start with the easiest to recruit or the closest?” Roth asked.

“Closest, I guess,” Luce said looking over the short, vague list.

“We can get started right away then,” the Spy said with a smile. He glanced over at Charna who nodded solemnly. Her hands moved under her massive jacket. “We will need some things from your assistant, a Major Jeanie Marks, I believe.”

Luce held Roth’s stare for a long time before yelling for the Major through the intercom. “Major Marks! Report to the conference room immediately!”

Several silent moments passed with the uneasy tension between the Ranger and the Spies. Finally, Marks entered the small meeting area.

When Roth saw her, he smiled and said, “Well, well, well. Aracelis. It’s been awhile since the Inquisition has met with a mage of your caliber.”

Jeanie, much to her credit, looked legitimately confused. With her eyebrows brought together and head tilted slightly to one side she said, “Sorry, sir?”

“The last time the Inquisition saw you was right before that unfortunate incident with the Secessionists in Jollô,” Roth responded with a lazy wave of his hand.

“Inquisitor, what the Void are you talking about?” Luce asked as she moved in between Marks and the Spy, putting herself in harms way for her soldier.

“General?” Marks asked nervously.

“General Prophet, may I formally introduce you to the Blood Mage on our list, Aracelis. Last surviving member of the Orso people,” Roth said making sure to keep his distance from Major Marks.

“What in the Void are you talking about?” Luce asked with her grip on the sword tightening. Charna was still as a statue, but poised like she could strike at any second. “Marks has been with the Rangers for almost seven years now. She’s been working with me for six. She’s been a great asset to me here and not your Mage.”

Major Marks surveyed the room. It didn’t look good for her. Roth was up to something, and his silent partner was rather terrifying still. She slowly raised her hands and put them behind her head.

“Major? What are you doing?” asked a bewildered Luce.

Marks gave her boss a sad smile. “Sorry, ma’am. I don’t fancy being killed today.”

She descended to her knees and looked up at Roth from her position of surrender. “That wasn’t an unfortunate incident. I was right and you know it. You must have read the reports, you know the history. I’m just sorry that Gillian took the break up so badly.”

“Major?”

“He’s right actually,” the kneeling woman said. “My real name is Aracelis. I am the Last of the Orso. Now, you are going to see a flash, but nothing is going to happen. So pretty please don’t kill me.”

A soft red glow surrounded Major Marks for a brief second before it died away. When it did finally fade, Roth had two pistols drawn and pointed at the surrendering woman, and Charna had drawn two long hunting knives and placed them around Marks’ throat.

Luce put her sword up against Charna’s chest on reflex. She simply had to push forward and she could pierce the female spy’s heart.

Major Marks had changed in appearance. She was darker in complexion than before, but her proportions stayed the same. The same narrow face with high cheekbones and narrow eyes. Her eyes, however, turned from a hard green to a deep red-orange, like the color of the sun at dusk. The tied back brown hair became almost a rust-stained blonde color.

But the biggest change was the tattoos. There weren’t any on her face or neck, but rather, on every available inch of her exposed skin were different symbols. Luce could see a couple dozen black-red tattoos on her exposed forearms. If the rest of her skin was like her arms, then there would have to be hundreds of tattoos.

“Relax! I just removed the illusion! No one is going to get hurt! Hopefully not me!” Aracelis said with the strained, slightly choked noise from the knives pressing into her windpipe.

“I would put those knives down if I were you,” Luce threatened, returning her gaze to the quiet woman before her.

“Ok, ok,” Roth said as he pointed his pistols down and away from people. “Everyone take a deep breath. Charna, you can relax.”

The silent spy looked at Roth for a long second before taking her knives away from Aracelis’ neck.

Lucienne was the last to lower her weapon.

“I guess this is the part where I get thrown in the brig, huh?” Aracelis asked.

if you like this so far the whole novel is available on my kofi

[cheerscoops]

ship: Jonathan Byers/Eddie Munson wc: 1.8k A/N: This one was suggested by my favorite @sherifftillman <3 I take the two freak boys and I squish. Hopefully they (and the minor background ship) live up to everyone's expectations!

“Hey Byers! Wait up!”

Jonathan stopped walking to his next class and turned to find Eddie Munson of all people racing towards him.

“I have a proposition for you,” he said once he’d caught up to Jonathan. “A job opportunity really.”

“What kind of job opportunity?” He was always looking to make a little more money around the holidays, and if the job wasn’t anything illegal, he’d seriously consider the extra work.

“So, as I’m sure you’re aware, I’m the frontman for a pretty spectacular band known as Corroded Coffin, and me and the guys were hoping to do a little something special for our fans this year. Granted, there are maybe five of them total, but still. They deserve a little something special as a token of appreciation for supporting us. Anyway, we wanted to send out a special Christmas card to our friends this year. Maybe include a flier about some upcoming shows in it? It’s still very much in the planning stages. All we know is that we want a really great photo of the whole band to go on the front of the card. That’s where you come in.”

“You want me to shoot your Christmas card?”

“Well, yeah. We don’t want an amateur with a disposable camera doing this. We want it to look good, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re the most talented photographer any of us knows. Maybe the most talented in all of Hawkins. I mean those photos you had in the school art show last year? Magazine worthy. Especially the one of that fort in the woods. It looked seriously haunted in the coolest way possible. Way better than anything anyone else submitted.”

Jonathan was touched. He knew most people only knew him as that freak with the camera, and he’d be lying if he hadn’t assumed that was why Eddie was asking when he first mentioned the card. But Eddie actually knew his work and appreciated it. He wasn’t asked just because he had a camera. He was asked because he had vision.

“How much does the job pay?” he asked.

“We’re not exactly rolling in it right now. Shocking, I know. But we talked about it and pulled our money. We can buy you a roll of film for the project so you don’t have to waste any of your own on us, and then we think we can reasonably afford to pay you for your time with twenty bucks and dinner at Benny’s afterwards. I know it’s not a lot, but it would mean a lot to us if you’d consider it. Plus, you can use the photos you take for any assignment or art show you might have coming up. And, come on.” Eddie gestured to himself. “If this handsome face is in your work, you’ll win all the top prizes for sure."

Eddie was right that it wasn’t a lot, but it was enough that it would make a difference in the quality of the gifts that Jonathan was able to get his mom and brother for Christmas. And if he didn’t have to use his own film, it was a net gain no matter what.

“So, say I agree to do this,” he started. “And I’m not agreeing just yet, but say that I do. What kinds of photos are you looking for?”

“Maybe something goofy and posed with all of us? Or artsy if you prefer. And then maybe a couple photos of us actually playing? We’ve got a Santa hat and some elf hats we were thinking of wearing since this is for a Christmas thing, but wearing them isn’t a deal breaker if you think the pictures would look better without them. Totally willing to defer to the real artistic genius here. I just want the pictures to look good, and you’re the only person I trust to make it happen.”

The idea of creative control was enticing enough to seal the deal for him.

“Alright. I’m in. When and where do you need me?”

“We haven’t settled on a specific day or time yet, but probably sometime this weekend. I’ll talk to the guys at lunch and let you know the plan before the end of the day though. I owe you my life for this. Seriously.”

With that, Eddie was racing off down the hall leaving Jonathan to try and come up with a way to make heavy metal Christmas cards into something appropriate for any of his photography class assignments.

That Saturday afternoon, Jonathan met up with the guys outside of the Hideout. The plan was to do posed photos outside and then go inside to take a few pictures of them playing. As long as they stayed focused on getting the shots they wanted, they'd be done in time for that promised dinner at Benny's.

He didn't think it would take too long, but then again, he didn't really know what working with Eddie would be like. The guy was all over him, and it was more than a little distraction. Eddie just had so many questions about his process, and he wanted to look through the camera and get an idea of what Jonathan was seeing. Or, if he wasn't asking questions, he was touching him. Adjusting a twisted camera strap, placing a hand on Jonathan's back as he leaned in the eye the proposed shot, poking at him to get his attention, grabbing at his arm to pull him over to any place he thought they could get a good photo. If Jonathan didn't know any better, he would've thought that Eddie was into him.

“Come on, Eddie,” he said as he tried to get him to pose properly for what he thought might be their last shot. “Quit it with whatever that brooding, tortured artist look is. You said you wanted something goofy, not sexy.”

“So you think I'm sexy?” Eddie asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Jonathan could feel his face burning.

“Just let me take the picture.”

He snapped a couple more photos in quick succession before putting the lens cap back on his camera.

“I think I got everything you guys wanted out here. Let's take a ten minute break, and then we can set up for the performance shots.”

Jonathan headed inside for a moment alone, but he'd barely sat down before Gareth was joining him at his table.

“You know we didn't need to hire you for this, right?” he started. “Jeff's parents own that hobby shop downtown, and his mom would have lent us a camera for free if we promised not to smash it. A fancy one with a timer so we wouldn't have even needed a photographer to get this done.”

“If that's the case, why am I here?”

“You haven't figured it out yet?”

“Figured out what?”

“You really have no idea. He's about as subtle as a heart attack, and you still don't know.”

“Can you please fill me in so I can make even a little bit of sense of what you're saying?”

“Eddie wanted you to do this so he'd have an excuse to spend time with you and get to know you a little better.”

“And he was willing to pay me twenty bucks for the opportunity?”

“Well, yeah. When he's that into someone, he loses all sense of logic and reason. Even more so than usual.”

Jonathan was stunned speechless. Eddie was into him? Suddenly all of his badgering made sense, and when he really stopped to think about it, the badgering wasn't unwelcome. If he wasn't in the middle of lining up a shot, he could see himself enjoying what was apparently Eddie's attempt at flirting.

“So, why doesn't he just ask me out? It would probably be cheaper than paying me to be your band's personal photographer.”

“He's afraid that you'd say no which I think is stupid because it's obvious how much he gets under your skin.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Dude. Your entire face looked like a tomato after you accidentally called him sexy. Pretty sure that was your subconscious telling you that you're into him, too.”

Jonathan didn't know what to say. Before he'd asked him to do this, he didn't realize Eddie even knew who he was, and now he was facing the very real possibility that he could maybe be into Eddie, too.

“Look," Gareth started. "You don't have to say anything to me or him or anybody. But, if you wanted, I could make something happen. All I ask is that you do a small favor for me.”

“Name it.”

“Put in a good word for me with Nancy?” he asked. “I find her beautiful and terrifying.”

“I'll see what I can do.”

Gareth stood up from his seat and smiled at Jonathan.

“It's been a pleasure doing business with you.”

Their break ended shortly after that, and Jonatham took a series of photos of them playing through two different songs so he could get a variety of different angles for each member of the band. Once he figured he'd gotten everything he needed, he motioned for the band to stop.

“I'm pretty sure I just used up the last of the film you guys brought, so we can call it here. I'll develop everything when I have access to the photo lab on Monday and get the prints to you as soon as possible.”

“We're done?” Eddie sounded more than a little disappointed and he crossed over to where Jonathan was loading his camera back into his bag.

“I think so. But I remember being promised dinner at Benny's as part of my payment, so we could head there now if you want.”

“Definitely. We just need to load up our stuff, and then we can all head out.”

“Actually, the guys and I have a thing,” Gareth said. “And we can't get out of it, so you guys are gonna have to go by yourselves.”

“What thing?” Jeff asked. “We don't have a-”

He was cut off from finishing his sentence by Gareth smacking his arm and pointedly looking back and forth between him and where Eddie was standing with Jonathan.

“Oh! Right!” Jeff said after the realization hit. “That thing. So sad we can't make it.”

“You crazy kids have fun without us!” Gareth said as he ushered the other two bandmates out of the bar.

“I'm going to kill him,” Eddie muttered under his breath, making Jonathan huff out a laugh.

“No, you're not.”

“Oh, but I am. I'm already drafting up posters advertising our need for a new drummer.”

“Go easy on him. He just did you a massive favor.”

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest.

“How do you figure?”

“He just got you a date with the guy you've been shamelessly flirting with all day.”

Eddie's jaw dropped. He definitely wasn't expecting that response from him.

“I'm pretty sure the guys just left without loading their stuff into the van, so pick your jaw off the floor and let me help you get that taken care of. Then you can flirt with me some more.”

Eddie changed his mind. He wasn't killing Gareth. He was gonna owe him for the rest of his life for helping him earn a date with Jonathan Byers.

[dailycharacteroption]

Gloomblade (Fighter Archetype)

(art by @Aszith on Twitter)

Ah, shadow magic, the branch of illusion magic centered on adding a bit of the quasi-real nature of the Plane of Shadow to your illusion to make them partially real and able to affect your foes. We’ve looked at that particular subject a few times on the blog, usually focusing on various spellcasters focused on using that shadowy power in various ways.

However, today we are looking at one of the rare quasi-magical fighter archetypes, one that draws upon shadow magic to pull any weapon they could possibly need from nothing, creating quasi-real weapons of shadow that hit as hard as the real thing.

Fans of previous editions of D&D might notice this sounds suspiciously similar to the soulknife class from 3.5’s Psionic Handbook, and they’d be right. This archetypes, as well as similar ones like the mindblade magus, definitely exist as homages to that particular concept while finding their own ways to be unique.

Gloomblades may be from regions where shadow magic is so pervasive that most anyone could pick up the basics and learn to incorporate it into their own style, or they might have been would-be casters that simply didn’t have what it takes to be illusionists but found this one secret to make sure their training wasn’t a total waste. Others might have been gifted or afflicted with this power by an outside force.

Whatever the source, these warriors always have a weapon whenever they need it, meaning they rarely ever have to spend money on arming themselves unless they happen upon a truly unique weapon, but most prefer to seek out items that bolster their other abilities further.

These warriors are more focused on agility and stealth than others, but their true ability lies in creating shadow weapons, drawing upon any weapon they can reasonably wield. At first they can only create one weapon, but later they can create two, and add additional abilities to either a single or twin weapon, though focusing on a single weapon lets them add more magical abilities.

Rather than specialize in individual weapons, gloomblades instead become intimately familiar with mastering their shadowblades, no matter the form they take. What’s more, they can use their quasi-real nature to alter them, stretching them to strike with reach, shaping throwing ones to fly further, warp them to hook into foes to shift them around, or harden them to pierce objects. The greater their mastery, the more they can do at once.

With this archetype, these fighters rarely ever need to spend money for their weapons budget. With that in mind, I recommend picking a few mainstay forms for your build so that you can take feats for those styles of combat rather than relying on more general feats all the time. Just remember that this archetype offers no support for ranged weapons beyond those that can be thrown, so you’ll probably have to pick up one of those for those rare occasions when you can’t just run up and hit things. Also consider taking exotic weapons proficiency at least once if you want to be able to add a shadowy truly exotic weapon to the mix.

What’s interesting about the powers of a gloomblade is that their shadowy constructs are not at risk of being disbelieved. Perhaps this is because of the relative small size of what they create with their shadows, the warrior’s focus solidifying them, or some secret they have not shared with more traditional shadow-casters. Might be worth exploring that in your setting.

Rather than being destroyed for being an untainted caligni, Asterfon was blessed by the owb masters of the dark folk with power to shape the shadows to make him an instrument of their will. However, as soon as he got the chance to, he ran, and now he is hunted as a blasphemer by his dark kindred.

From the lightless depths, some undine villages have heard the call of the Black Water. Those that have answered are able to shape shadow without compare as spellcasters and warriors, but they clearly have lost a part of themselves in the exchange.

Creatures of horror and darkness, the jack-o-lanterns haunt lands of superstition and fearful nights. They say that the most powerful of these plants, whose connection to the Grinning Lurker is greatest, need no stolen farming implements for weapons, and instead shape the shadows themselves into wicked edges.

[panic-at-the-hydra-base]

So I saw fnaf… (no spoilers above the cut)

(First of all I’m not a movie reviewer or anyone special I just like to talk abt movies)

Okay I have like a lot to say and some worries about this movie. Let’s start with the good, as a fan the movie was so fun! It’s been in production hell for so long and I’m so glad it even got to see the light of day and that Scott got to be involved that all makes me thrilled. The Henson creature shop did a spectacular job and I hope people realize the balls it took to even go that route versus just cgi-ing all of it. Massive props to them and just ugh all of it was fantastic looking I could go on all day about the animatronics alone. Now I say “as a fan” because if I wasn’t a fnaf fan the movie wouldn’t be good. It just isn’t and I now totally understand and agree with the first critic reviews that came from people who have (assumingly) no knowledge of the game before hand and I agree with their low ratings. It just isn’t really a good movie🤷🏽‍♀️and that’s fine! Seriously if all it is is a kitty fan service movie where everyone had fun making it and watching it then who cares! Blumhouse made their money before it even premiered and honestly I’m not even worried about not getting another one because they know enough of us will be paying to see whatever else they do next- better or worse. I wouldn’t call it a good movie at all but was it fun? Hell yeah it was fun!

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

This is just me rambling because why not

I saw it Thursday opening night and my theatre was relatively quiet with some loud “harharharharhar”s before it started versus some theaters I’ve seen who are filled with ppl laughing aloud and doing other fun stuff (like fist fighting) so I wasn’t sure what to expect if it was gonna be the same vibe as like seeing a marvel movie opening night where people are verbally responsive. Idk just curious how other peoples theatre crowd experience was. The movie was really just okay as I said the part of me that’s a fan had fun but the part of me that loves movies was bored. The building a fort was kinda stupid but I understand why it was done for the plot entirely to show that Abby thinks they’re all friends okay but god it was just kinda dumb. The connecting via dreams was odd? I’m not sure how I feel about it because I’m trying to separate this movie from fnaf lore and treat it as a movie by its self but that’s really hard to do. Obviously I’m not saying everything has to/will be canon compliant but it’s still hard to have that knowledge and not compare it to the movie. I’ll have to give it another watch but it’s hard to hodge the movie alone by itself. Anyway- FOXY!!! God his feet were so silly looking I love him so much and they kept the humming/singing that he does? Loved that. Also was the animatronic they were trying to put Abby in at the end supposed to look like baby specifically? It was enough that I caught it but also not exact enough where I thought maybe they just picked a random doll like character idk I can’t remember who’s soul is in baby at the moment but whatever. That fuckass balloon boy made me unreasonably happy idk why like I saw spoilers and knew he was there but still laughed so hard when I actually saw him myself. Also loved the matpat cameo it was just enough and rolled very smoothly, good for him. I again do wanna give them credit for showing the bloody stuff considering the rating like the shadow of someone getting bit in half was good. I understand from a company standpoint of keeping it pg-13 so “kids” can go see it and give them more money but they did what they could and I thought it looked good! Vanessa was cool, kinda weird mike didn’t ask any questions earlier and also why did that bitch chuck mike’s pills into the water bitch that man has no money and you just wasted prescription sleeping pills? Gurl you you but okay whatever anyway- mike was cool nothing like crazy special to say about any of them honestly. I hope they use Matthew lillard more in the future, that’s purely me being a fan of his and nothing more honestly. He wasn’t in the movie much at all. Back to the dreams and stuff- having mike get injured in his dreams was also a bit idk…. Stupid? Like it just seemed idk pretty dumb I can’t fully explain what bothered me about it but it just didn’t seem to go with it all. I just gotta watch it again at some point because I’m very torn abt actually liking it or not. I do have a worry that people will not realize that the animatronics are actually puppets and complain about them being funny looking and moving slow. Puppets aren’t used as much anymore everything’s cgi and animated so I can totally see someone thinking it’s just badly created when it’s actual real people moving them and they’ll think poorly of it when they simply don’t know that it’s real! Again so happy that they chose that route to create them and not cgi it soooo greatful for that and I’m glad to see that’s still being used for movies. Overall very torn about this movie. Again I’m just rambling here and I’d love to think what others think abt it weather you saw it with prior knowledge or not.

[olderjodijournals]

Monday, May 1, 2000

I forgot to write about Sunday’s sex. It was predictable in the sense that I knew he wouldn’t cum, but it was otherwise not very predictable. I decided at the last minute to have him go down on me and he not only did, but I got off. It seemed to take forever, though. I thought that because he went down on me he’d bail out of screwing cuz he never really liked doing more than one thing per session, but we screwed afterward. He went faster this time as if he had more strength and energy from working out. He was either putting on a good show or else he really was just out of shape. I think it was always a combination of him being unfit as well as scared.

He knows that I got my period at the end of last month. It wasn’t possible to hide it from him when he saw he had blood on his dick that could only have come from me. So, that means he’s gonna chicken out on me and want to play games around the 10th of this month. Like I could really get pregnant even if he did cum? Yeah, right! Anyway, I’ll probably avoid him myself at that time cuz I won’t be in the mood to play games of any kind and have him conveniently “forget” how to get inside or something like that. As long as he can’t admit his fears on his own, then I’m gonna have to be the responsible one here. I don’t want him put in a position that makes him uncomfortable and I know that although I know I’m sterile and he hates having sex, as cumless as it is, when I’m mid-cycle.

Wednesday, May 3, 2000

I don’t believe this. I just don’t believe this! Smokey’s dead. Yesterday evening, just like with Scuttles, he was totally out of it, barely moving, eating or drinking. Then when I got up at 9:00 today, he was gone.

Why are so many of my animals dying lately? Depending on how long Fudgie lives, I may wonder about this store. I got a rat from them that only lived five months, and now a rat that didn’t even live one month. Or maybe it’s a punishment. Meaning, just like I wondered if Scuttle’s death was because of what I did to the Bear, I wonder if Smokey’s death is because I got sick of Butter Rum being such a bully and bopped her upside the head with a nibble stick. I’m just grateful I didn’t get that attached to him so I don’t have to be miserable all over again so soon after I was miserable over losing Scuttles.

I’m really seriously considering quitting singing, although I’ll miss it terribly. I’m just so sick of having to cough and clear my throat just like I did when I smoked. It really takes the fun out of it. Do you know how humiliating that is, having worked so hard for so little?! No, God does not help those who help themselves. It’s even more of a bummer knowing that my lungs will never get better either, even though I’m gonna be stupid and schedule a doctor’s appointment that I know will be a complete waste of time, gas and money. I’m still convinced there’s nothing they can give me that’ll help me. They’ll either give me something that won’t do a damn bit of good (or it’ll at least seem like it’s gonna help at first, then I’ll be like I usually am - tight or congested), or it’ll have bad side effects like that Aerobid did. And as I’ve learned in life - there’s no such thing as “solving a problem.” At least not for me there isn’t. For me, all I can do is trade one problem in for another, so even if I could get something to help my lungs, all I’d be asking for was a brand-new problem to have to deal with year after year. All God gave me for my efforts at quitting smoking was 20 pounds I could never get rid of, and that’s another depressing thing right there.

I’ve pretty much peaked as far as the weight and inches go. After that initial tightening I felt, that’s as far as it’s obviously going to go. I’m never going to have that muscular look I’d like to have. Part of that is because I can’t seem to burn the fat. All I can do is build a little muscle underneath the fat like I did. Also, 123 pounds is as low as I can go from what it looks like, and I can’t lose any more than the inch or so I’ve lost from a couple of select areas. Not unless I start working out for a few hours a day and put myself through lots of starvation. All of which I don’t have the willpower for.

On the bright side - as long as I keep rowing every day and working out a few times a week, I should be able to maintain my weight and inches and keep from ever going above 125 pounds. I’ll also be a little firmer and not feel as energyless or too non-active.

Anyway, I’m not surprised at the results. I mean, I got just what I expected to get - just a few pounds lighter, and an inch smaller, and slightly firmer. I expected to feel the results much more than see them. Especially in my arms and legs. They look just like they always did, but they feel a bit firmer.

I finally got Tom to start working on Jade yesterday, but not without starting to work on her myself. I just get so sick of him saying he’s gonna do things that he doesn’t do. I know he’ll never clean up the property when it gets hot, either. Tom, why do you lie to me so?

Anyway, firming up Jade’s been much quicker and easier than I thought it would be. This is mostly because we cut the body at the sides, arms and legs so we could pack the stuffing in easier. All bodies should come with zippers to these areas if you ask me. Trying to stuff batting down into the legs from the neck is nearly impossible. He got the arms stuffed and stitched up, and part of the body and where the knees are. He’ll work up the legs and down the body till he meets at the sides where her hips are, then we’ll stitch the sides up and take in an inch or so of material at the sides to make it better proportioned. I’m still certain that this body was sewn all wrong. It’s totally disproportionate in the hips. Also, the whole body seems too long for a 32” doll. I really think they gave me a 34” or 36” body. A disproportionate 34” or 36” body.

Later...

Quitting singing is easier said than done. I could never quit. It’s just so much a part of me as my arms and legs are. I’ll just have to sing when my lungs/nose will allow it.

Carol Kane was in a 1984 movie earlier. She only had a little part and looked like a geek. She got better looking with age if you ask me. Well, I’ll be checking out other movies on the 5th, 8th, and 14th of this month. I can’t wait for Office Killer and When a Stranger Calls Back to run again!

TV shows and movies still seem to be riddled with childbirth and I still don’t know what the obsession’s all about.

Thursday, May 4, 2000

Wow! I lost a pound. I weigh 122, but the question is - will I ever drop below 120 and stay there? Cuz trying to stay between 110-115 in early 98 to early 99 was a nightmare. Of course, I didn’t have the Bowflex then, either. Well, we’ll see in time where my weight goes, but wherever it goes, it goes. There’s not much I can do about it.

Cybertrails’ service has been absolutely horrid. They’re just like how AOL was for a while where I either can’t get online or when I do, pages won’t load and I get knocked off. Tom says to expect lousy service in a rural area and to just take what I can get from them. Yeah, but it’s never been this bad. This is terrible. It fucking figures, too. Just when I find something I want to do online regularly, I can’t get on. I discovered Carol Kane items being auctioned on eBay that are constantly changing. The web pages, though, stay the same for months, even years, at a time.

Yesterday, I got another garden/floral magazine from Evelyn. I guess Miss Opinionated really likes me. Anyway, there’s nothing I really care about in the magazine, but Tom’s interested in some of their ads. There were also a couple of packets of flower seeds, which we weren’t supposed to get even though they gave them to us. Mary was going to plant them. We offered to give them back, but she said not to bother. Besides, she’s only got so much room for them. Even so, we should never have gotten them because we just can’t grow things here. The animals eat and destroy them. Rabbits, birds, lizards, and probably Gophie too, are eating the seeds and chewing off whatever does start to grow. Tom said we can try planting them indoors till they take off, then put them outside, but I still think they’ll destroy them.

Saturday, May 6, 2000

I finished my story Burned Soul yesterday! Now I’m proofreading it, then Tom’s going to do the same, before sending it off to publishers so it can get rejected. Although it’s easy to say that God won’t allow me to make any money by writing because he’s never allowed me to do things I’ve wanted to do in the past, I also don’t want to be a writer nearly as bad as I once wanted a kid and to be a singer. That still isn’t necessarily a point in my favor, though, since most people rarely get the first thing they submit published, anyway. You usually have to write lots of stories or articles before someone publishes something you’ve written.

Yesterday I woke up at 121 pounds and was still able to shit. I’m back to 122 now. There’s not much of a difference since I began working out four weeks ago, although yes, I am firmer, and yes, I am smaller. But barely. And in some cases, it doesn’t last long. My thighs went down an inch for five minutes, then they were all bloated out again to the usual 23” they are. My chest dropped to 36, my waist is 29½, and my hips are 37.

I can’t be certain, but I might’ve seen a snake sticking out of Gophie’s hole the other day. That may explain why she’s now living in a hole at the other end of the house and why there’s been less lizard activity around.

Today we saw a cute little gray baby jackrabbit sitting out front in the middle of the wash. Tom filmed it, along with Fudgie and Ratsy playing.

This is going to come as a shocker, but I love Fudgie way more than I did Scuttles. He’s a super cool, fun, loving little guy. He’s less of an explorer when I have him out. Instead, he loves to sit and cuddle with me. I lay on the floor and he hides under my neck. Then periodically, he walks a few feet away, then turns around and runs back to hide under my neck. He also climbs on top of me at times, too. He’s a lot mellower than Scuttles was. He’s about as mellow as Mickey was, and he’s not a biter, either. He doesn’t nibble on my toes and fingers like Ratsy loves to.

Although Tom did do a little more work on Jade and play some computer games, he’s spent the whole day in front of the TV, showing no interest in sex. God, he is so unmanly in that way! Again, that’s OK with me. I’m as drained of an appetite as I have been for the last few years now, and when I do get up the urge, I just want to take care of myself, quickly and efficiently. It’s easier to do something yourself than to have to direct someone to go higher, go lower, softer, harder, etc.

Sunday, May 7, 2000

Jade’s finally done and standing against the wall in my office! Tom stuffed her real good so she’s really rigid. Although she’s a beautiful doll, her head seems a bit big for her 32” body. Her feet and hands are the same sizes as Bailey’s who’s 24”, and her head’s the same size as Ciara’s who’s 38”. She’s wearing Bailey’s sleeper and Bailey’s wearing a dress that came with a big teddy bear of mine. It doesn’t look as good on her, but someday I’ll get new outfits for both Bailey and Jade. 32” dolls are a good size. You can see them well enough without having to walk right up to them, and there’s a lot more wall space to lean them against in here than there is furniture to put them on.

The sex we had at the end of his day, as usual, was very predictable. He was in and out of me in no time at all. It was very obvious that he didn’t want to cum. Especially with how hard he was.

Afterward, I started to get both bummed out and pissed knowing that if I did decide to have Invitro someday I’d have to use someone else’s sperm. Or so I thought. Tom told me something that really made my day. You see, I was always under the impression that a guy had to give sperm right there in the office in a cup just like you do with urine, but that’s not so. He said you can do it at home on your own time, as long as you keep it warm and don’t wait longer than a few days. I didn’t know this, but that’s great! It makes perfect sense too, now that I think about it. Now I can have an easier time letting him be himself and not feel so controlled and manipulated by him like he’s cheating me out of options. It’s nice to know, though, even though I doubt I’ll ever do the invitro, that I have more choices than I thought I did and that I don’t necessarily have to use someone else’s sperm unless his is dead. I don’t have the choices most women do since they can get pregnant for free the natural way, but at least I have more choices than I thought I did, and yes, Tom you can feel very free to be yourself and not cum!

Before he enlightened me on how he’d give his sperm, he said he felt I was controlling him and that he thought I said I wanted him to be him. To me, this is saying he’s admitting he wants to be the way he is and he doesn’t want to be made to feel like he has to change. This is fine, now that I know what I know, but I still don’t get why he’s so determined not to cum when it’s already been established that I can’t conceive naturally, anyway.

Anyway, I’m just so glad to learn what I’ve learned. That still doesn’t mean that I’ll ever want to have Invitro, or that he’d still cooperate and give his sperm, or that God would allow me to have a kid no matter whose sperm it was, but it makes me feel a lot better. Also, every negative has its positive - Tom’s not cumming keeps the sheets nice and dry, and we’ll never need birth control or tubes tied, or vasectomies.

He told me something else, to use as an example, that made no sense to me. He said he didn’t like not sleeping together, but that he just accepts it because he doesn’t want to control me or complain. I get the not liking it part, and I too, wish we could sleep together like any other normal couple, but as I told him, he’s not controlling me or complaining by asking that we try to sleep together at times. As long as he doesn’t make demands, he’s not controlling me. I want him to ask me things because I want to know if there’s ever anything I can do to please him because I love him, so I suggested we try sleeping together on weekends. I said we won’t say that we have to sleep together every night, just try to on weekends. Meanwhile, there’s no control involved. If one of us decides we don’t want to do it, we don’t do it. Period.

No music this weekend. Just the faint beat of a car stereo cruising by somewhere around here for ten seconds last night.

I don’t understand my mice’s behavior. Since when do females and males fight? And since when do mice that have lived together before fight? The mice that lived together in the store that were bought together fight. Out of the five mice I got, three of them are tame, one’s sort of a bully, and one’s a big-time bully. As for the three I had before - Freddie’s tame, Oreo’s sort of a bully, and Butter Rum’s a major bully like Toughie.

Monday, May 8, 2000

I set Jade up so she’s standing, leaning against the wall, holding one of the musical dolls. It looks really cool, and Tom thought so, too. I still like to have her hold one of the little teddy bears I got at Game Works, too.

Tom says I don’t look watery or bigger, and that’s what I thought, too. Then why did I gain my weight back? I’ll never be thin. I’ll just never ever be thin. My thin days are long over like I’ve been saying. I’ll always be in the 120s. Period.

I gave Tom a good scare today without even knowing it. He said that on his way home he saw an ambulance turn onto Bitter Root and immediately thought they were headed here. Anyway, it turned out to be going to the house across from Dan’s. Two houses away. The equivalent of twenty houses away in the city.

He brought home a picture that Dennis left him which the selfish opportunist himself took. It was of us standing by the trailer. It wasn’t close up, but even so, you could see my pudgy legs, fat face, and rounded-out arms.

I’m taping another Carol Kane movie right now I haven’t seen yet. This one’s a 1999 movie, and as I said before, I think she got better looking with age. Especially in the face, although I do have a picture of her from the 70s that looks great. I saw her in a 1990 movie the other day and her face didn’t look as good as it did in Office Killer, but her hair sure looked better. It was long, curly, and down to just below her waist. I don’t know if it was all hers or if some of it was hair extensions of any kind.

I had a very strange dream last night about a teacher I had in 5th grade named Joan B. I was about eight the first time I saw her, and in a way, she was my first crush. She was like Norah was at the Harley where no one else liked her or would consider her attractive except for me. She was a toughie, though. All the kids hated her for being so mean and so strict. I would’ve too, if I hadn’t found her attractive. She may have been a bit on the plump side and had brown eyes and long brown hair. She always kept her hair up and I remember how I’d wonder how long it was and what it’d look like down. I remember I looked her up in the phonebook and called her a few times, which she was not happy with. She bitched to my parents about it. She certainly wouldn’t have come out and said so, at least not to me, but I know she had to have despised me. I could just tell.

Anyway, I haven’t seen her in about 25 years and haven’t thought of her in ages. Then last night I had a dream that she was reaching out to me as I was running by her. I woke up with the feeling that she was saying goodbye from the other side. At first I wondered why she’d bother with me, but I had to have stood out in her mind. Any teacher who ever dealt with a loud-mouthed, attention-getting bully like I was could never forget me. I always stood out, and although it wasn’t usually in a good way, I had to have made a lasting impression on her.

If I’ve got my facts straight - she has one son. Her son and her husband’s first name was Richard. Joan lived in Agawam for as long as I could remember. Many years. Anyway, I went online to see if I could find obituaries, but couldn’t. So I looked in the directory and found a Richard B living at a different address in Agawam. Is it the son? The husband? Is Joan really dead? She had to have been in her late 30s to early 40s when I knew her, which means she’s probably around 65-75 years old today. She could be dead, but so could anyone you haven’t seen for 25 years. I told Tom I wanted to call the Richard Bowe I found listed and see if I could find out, but he advised me to wait a month or two. He reminded me of my accuracy rate within the world of the paranormal and said that now wouldn’t be a good time to go calling and asking for someone if they just died. That’s what I’ll do, but I can’t wait to find out if she’s dead or alive in a month. Or at least try to.

Tuesday, May 9, 2000

Carol looked absolutely terrible in last night’s movie. Just as bad as she did in most of Office Killer. She didn’t look better in that movie till the end when she took her glasses off and let her hair down. In this movie, they had her dressed as a conservative, even geeky school principal with her hair up and thick-rimmed glasses.

Tom said we’d go out today, but then he said we’d go out tomorrow instead so he could milk the gas tank. Just another one of his many delays/procrastination. He felt bad, though, and insisted we could go out today if I really wanted to, but nah, we can wait one more day. Instead, we’re gonna make Bailey a new outfit! At least, we’re gonna try to.

Wednesday, May 10, 2000

Dan’s still here. I see lights on at night and I saw him driving off his property earlier.

We’re going out to Circle K (wish Jennifer still worked there) and to Dairy Queen when he gets in later on.

I figured out what Tom’s doing. At least I’m virtually certain of his motives. You’d think that anyone would be like - what’s he got to lose by cumming when he knows she can’t conceive naturally anyway, so he doesn’t have to worry about having a kid too soon after moving, or whatever, but he doesn’t know I can’t conceive. He may suspect it, but like I always said, he’s not as thoroughly convinced as I am. So after I thought about it for a while, I realized he’s counting on the odds. That’s what he’s doing. He’s decided to himself - I’m not going to cum in case she really can conceive cuz I don’t want a kid. Meanwhile, I’ll count on the odds of her not bothering to have the invitro either, and assume that if I don’t cum and if she doesn’t have the invitro, I won’t ever have to worry about a baby. I still don’t understand why he feels he has to go to such extremes, but like he said, he doesn’t want me to complain and he doesn’t want to feel controlled. He wants to be him. No problem. No problem at all. If I wanted a kid and felt I could conceive, that’d be different. Meanwhile, he’s perfectly welcome to do as he pleases and not cum. I don’t know how he can stand it after getting hard and excited, but obviously he can. He’s been doing it for years and I wasn’t kidding myself when I told myself he was perfectly content to be the way he is and that that’s what he wants. If he didn’t, he’d do something about it, and I don’t believe he needs a doctor to do it for him, either. No doctor can tell him to cum when he gets excited like we know he can/does. Only he can do that, but only when and if he wants to.

Meanwhile, how do I feel? Well, knowing I can’t conceive and that I don’t want a child these days has me OK with how he chooses to be. I’m sorry, but cum is a real pain in the ass. It makes quite a mess. Not only does it mess up the sheets, but it also makes a mess of me, too. I can’t just wash it out of my pussy. I have to put on a liner and let it slowly seep out. How do women with guys who are normal sexually stand it? Most guys don’t just cum, they want to screw/cum just about every day.

Later...

Today turned out to be an exciting day. No, we didn’t go out cuz Tom had a meeting at work and he didn’t get in till 7:30. He would’ve taken me out if I’d insisted, but I didn’t want to. He usually goes to bed at 8:00 and I knew it could be close to 10:00 before we returned if we went out. So, we agreed we’d go out tomorrow and even to the store that has the skater Barbie I want, along with the other stores, but who knows? I get the feeling something doesn’t want me going out this week.

It’s a good thing I wasn’t out at 4:00 today. Gophie hasn’t been using the hole in front that’s about a dozen or so feet away from the house. Instead, she’s been using the hole in the bush further back where the iguanas are. This is where I first saw her, too. Anyway, there were a couple of times I could’ve sworn I saw the tip of a snake sticking out of the hole by the house, but couldn’t be sure. Today, though, proved my theory to be correct about why she hasn’t been using that hole. It sure as hell was a snake! I saw it come up out of the hole while I was working out and this sucker was at least 6’ long! Only 1”-1½” wide, though. It lay sprawled in the middle of the wash and I ran out and got about 8-10 feet up to it and took its picture. I also took one from inside too, to show how close to the house it was. I lost it at one point, but I warned Tom to look out for it when he called to ask if I wanted anything else at the store cuz it might’ve headed down towards where he parks.

I showed Tom the pictures I took of it when he got home, but neither of us is sure if it’s any type of rattlesnake (he’ll investigate online). It didn’t have those diamond markings. It was a grayish-black color with no particular markings, and I don’t remember seeing the rattle at the end of its tail. The tail seemed to get skinnier and skinnier till it tapered off almost as skinny as the tip of a rat’s tail.

Anyway, I guess I’m getting to be quite the wildlife photographer! We’ve got pictures of iguanas, snakes, prairie dogs, and a scorpion, although he took that shot. I need a picture of a jackrabbit and a roadrunner if they’ll stay still long enough. I’d even like a tarantula. Just think of all the people who would think I was absolutely crazy, having rats and mice indoors and snakes just outside my house! Dureen’s gonna cringe when she sees what I live with. Dureen, Tammy and Andy could never stand it out here. Andy would not only hate the long drive to work (when he happened to have a job), and not being able to get to a gay bar in ten minutes or so, but he’d be terrified to be alone out here, whether or not he had a phone and a car. He’d be terrified of homicidal maniacs coming to get him and of the desert creatures out here.

I love this house, living here, not knowing what I’ll see when I look out the window.

As for my animals - yes, this store’s definitely up to something. As Tom suggested, they could be inbreeding too much which will cause early death and sterility. The five mice I just bought are definitely females, which were definitely in with males, which should definitely be pregnant and showing it, but they’re not. This has me really worried about Fudgie and wondering how long he’ll live. I love this rat more than any other pet I’ve ever had in my entire life and it’d be a shame to lose him so soon. He’s so cute, loving, and fun to play with. I lay down on the den floor and he walks a few feet away, then Tom moves and scares him and he comes running back to hide under my neck. He climbs on top of me too, and stands straight up and peers around the room.

In other news, my hair, which was an inch shy of my waist, got cut to about a couple of inches below my shoulders. I’m just sick to death of long hair! Sick of the snarls and having to always braid it to keep it from getting overly knotted. It’d take forever to dry, and I’d have to braid it just to go to bed. If my hair was thin and straight, then yes, I’d let it grow and grow forever, but I just couldn’t deal with it anymore and ran out of patience for it. As I said, I left a little length so I could keep my femininity and gather it into a ponytail to get it off my neck when going out on hot days.

Both of us are pretty proud of what we ended up doing yesterday evening. We each made, from scratch, without any pattern, a dress for Bailey. The one Tom made was just a practice one using this ugly Indian-print pattern that his ma gave me, and the final version, which I traced, cut and sewed, has splotches of lavender, pink, and light blue on a white background. In the end, I sewed a piece of lace around the neck and boy does she look better than ever! It’s short too, so her legs show from the knees down like I always wanted them to cuz she even has such realistic knees, as well as feet. Her body bag has lace trim at the legs, which sticks out a bit under the dress just above the knees and it goes well with the lace up top, making it really look just like a little girl’s dress, rather than a nightgown or a long shirt.

We called to brag to Mary about it and to tell her about the snake. Not surprisingly, she said she’d never have gone outside and a handful of feet away from it.

Tom also told her to think about timing hers and Dave’s vacation with his, so they could go somewhere while Ma was here since we have no desire to go anywhere even if we could afford to. We’ve had enough hotels to last us a lifetime. Of course, Tom doesn’t have to have vacation time while she’s here, but if he did, she could spend more time with him, someone she knows, rather than with me most of the time.

Friday, May 12, 2000

Here we go with the early spotting again. Sometimes I spot a week or two before my period. Why does there have to be such a big deal leading up to my period? Why does it have to start so slowly and be such a long drawn-out process most of the time? Why can’t I just get my period when it’s due? Better yet, why can’t I just have a hysterectomy? I can’t imagine my ever wanting Invitro bad enough. I’m content with life the way it is. We may not have the money we wish we had, but life is good, so why go and change a good thing? Besides, I thought of another way Tom could get his way with it. He’s smart enough to find a way to kill his sperm and have it appear dead when he brought it to the doctor, not that that couldn’t be the case for real. Like I said, a man who can get hard but won’t cum is the way he is for a reason. Not wanting a kid is the only thing I could ever think of. He sure as hell ain’t got no disease he’s trying to protect me from, so what else could it be? All I know is that whether or not I decide I want a kid again in the future, I’ll never have one because God will forbid it and Tom won’t allow it. He’s been manipulating and conning me out of it since day one, save for the few times he came around prime time.

Yesterday we went out to Walgreens and I got that skater Barbie I’ve had my eye on for nearly a year now. She wears a nice outfit with a top, skirt, and stockings mostly in blue. The skirt has a layer of purple trim and one of pink. Her skates are blue too, and there are feathers on her shoulders. She has a USA Olympic gold medal around her neck. She’s perfect for the Barbie stand that came with the Peruvian doll. Regular Barbie feet can’t quite touch the bass of the stand, but one with skates on can. There’s this thing on her back that you wind up to make her spin at the waist that doesn’t work, cuz you know I have to get the broken one. That’s fine, though, because I didn’t buy her to play with her and spin her around. I bought her to decorate with.

I got a couple of doll poster ads from Ashton-Drake. They take notice of what you like/buy. Since I bought Indians and ballerinas, they sent me a poster of an Indian girl and of a baby ballerina which I put on my office wall. My office looks more like a giant dollhouse rather than an office.

I almost broke down and made a doctor’s appointment, but decided against it. I’ve been a little better lately and I still don’t see how they could help me. I just hope it never comes down to where I need medication, for any reason, that my life absolutely depends on because doctors just can’t be depended on. They’re too incompetent and unreliable these days.

I see Gophie out there. It’s nice to know that the snake never got her! In fact, maybe the snake moved on, cuz she’s by its hole right now.

Later...

Oh, my God! We just might be having two houses on our land!! Evelyn’s planning on moving to an apartment in Phoenix because her trailer park is getting bad (I can just imagine!) and she told Tom that if we wanted her trailer, she’d just give it to us. Just give it to us! How great that would be! It’d be the perfect storage/workshop for Tom since we don’t need a guest house. The house is about 40’ long and 20-30 years old. It’s a two-bedroom/one-bath. It only has a living room besides that. No dens or retreats. Tom said he doesn’t remember what color it is, but either way, I’d like to paint it peach. We’ll have to pay a few hundred bucks or so to haul it out here and we’ll have to get permits for it, but it’ll be well worth it. We have different options as far as electricity goes. We have the generator we could use, or we could also use a windmill since it’s windy here most of the time. We have a 2 horsepower well pump that can pump 3 gallons of water per minute, so that’s where its water will come from if we decide to plumb it, and we probably will. It’ll probably go in the back, either just in front or just beyond the second wash, because we’re reserving the land at the master bedroom side of the house for the Arizona room/pool, and the back of the land for horses. Tom again mentioned wanting to get a mare to breed thoroughbred racehorses, and a couple of geldings (castrated males) to use for riding.

We did some research and according to what we could find out, that snake is not a rattlesnake. I didn’t think it was. I never saw any rattles on it and my vibes told me it was harmless. There are two possibilities as to what it could be, and both are anti-venomous. It could be either a coachwhip snake or a king snake. Actually, from what we read, a king snake would be a good thing to have around cuz they eat rattlers.

Saturday, May 13, 2000

Oh, these fucking goddamn, motherfucking allergies! They just never quit! I never had anything like this back east. Why is it that I always must trade one problem in for another? Why can’t I ever just solve a problem and let it end there? Ever since I stopped wheezing so bad since quitting smoking, my allergies have been a nightmare. I traded in my smoking addiction for a weight problem. Everything in life for me is a tradeoff. I have to be given a problem in order to get rid of one, and I have to be cursed in order to be blessed. Take Evelyn’s house, for example. You think God’s just gonna let her give us that house without making us pay in some way? Ha! We’ll have hell to go through just to get it and sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it, but we really could use the storage and workspace, so if we have to fight for it, we’ll put up our fists and fight.

My allergies got particularly bad when I first got the mice and I wondered if I should just let the ones I have die off and not get more, and if their sterility wasn’t a good thing after all, but Tom said he doesn’t think it’s the mice. He says that if it was, I’d have this every day. Yeah, but will I? It used to be that I’d take a Benadryl, crash for a couple of hours or so, then wake up fine. But now the allergy attack that used to last hours is lasting for days, so what’s to say I won’t end up with this shit every day where I can’t sit and do something for more than five minutes because I have to jump up and blow my runny, sneezy nose? This has been going on now for about 25 hours. I can’t even go a week or two without this shit.

Even though I’m sure I’ll still have this shit every week or two, I condensed the mice’s living quarters. Instead of having 5 or 6 houses set up with a zillion tubes, I’ve got Butter Rum and Oreo in a little cage with just one tube and hideaway, and the others in the big tank with just wheels, their crinkle paper box, and a few tubes.

Having allergies wasn’t the only thing to cause me to wake up on the wrong side of the bed, either. Tom said he screwed up and couldn’t get the groceries early this morning as planned. At first I thought he was saying that he bounced a check, but what he really did was assume that a certain company wouldn’t cash their check till Monday, which is payday anyway. But they did cash the check, so he sold a coin of his for $95 and bought groceries with that. I know he wanted to sell that coin anyway as he said, but all I could think about, once again, was ripping the shit out of Steven and Dan. It’s their fault that we’re in this situation. When are we ever gonna be free of these assholes’ fuck-ups?! They’ve been out of our lives for months now yet they’re still controlling us!

Anyway, I was pissed off cuz I thought our other weekend plans were shot. I said to Tom - so there goes the evening out of my hair, the putting up the flag outside, any sewing we may want to do, and the boring, predictable sex I know would’ve happened tomorrow at the end of your day. I explained that last one by pointing out that while he claims to want spontaneity, I not only know what’s going to happen in bed but lately, I know when it’s going to happen, too. Sunday, late afternoon or early evening, when he’s more tired so he can have an easier time holding back. Anyway, he said we could screw right then, so we did and I only had to know what was going to happen. I could tell it was a struggle for him. He had a hard time holding back, but he managed.

Week five and things are going just as predicted. My weight still bounces between 122-125 pounds, my thighs still bounce between 22-23, my waist still bounces between 29-30, and my tits and hips still bounce between 36-37. It’ll never change. Not without lots of starvation and many hours a day of working out. Neither of which is going to happen because I just don’t have the willpower to do it. Tom, though, insists that little by little it’ll work its way off and areas that haven’t gone down yet will go down in time. Ha! Not a chance. Yes, I went down a little in the lower back, the backs of my thighs, and my upper abs, which is nice, but what about the worst areas, such as my inner thighs, hips, and lower abs? And what about my face, neck, and arms? It’s hopeless. Totally hopeless, just like I’ve been saying week after week. Even if I could weigh 100-110 pounds tomorrow, I’d just have a whole new battle to fight. Maintaining lost weight is almost as hard for me to do as it is to lose it. Like I also said, I’m sick of fighting for the impossible. All I can do is maintain my current weight/inches, which isn’t too hard. Not as hard as it was to maintain 110-115 pounds the last I was there because that’s not natural in this day and age. Middle-aged people are supposed to be 20-50 pounds overweight.

Dan’s still here. Isn’t it a little late to still be here? Makes me wonder if my vibe about his quitting the summer getaways upon our arrival was an accurate one. At least he hasn’t been engine-gunning. All I heard so far this weekend was five seconds of someone’s car stereo. Probably whoever visits the house towards our front. They’d actually be in front of next door. It’s still too bad we couldn’t own all the land within a five-mile radius of this house! But if we did, God would just allow some desperate, attention-seeking asshole to create stereos that could be heard for over five miles, although the stereos that do exist are close to that. Anyway, I’m sure there’ll be stereos that can be heard for 20+ miles away eventually. Eventually, they’ll be too loud for the owners to blast without wearing ear protectors, but they won’t mind. They’re that desperate to put on a show and get noticed.

Monday, May 15, 2000

At 10:30 last night, Dan got a little desperate for attention. He came out and gunned a thunderous engine for about 20 seconds. You could tell he did it just to do it too, and that he didn’t drive off anywhere. Then, a few minutes later, his music started. He had a lot of outside lights on, so it was obvious that he was outside and that the music was either coming from a vehicle of some kind or through an open window/door. I was trying to read so I threw the fan on. When I turned it off a half-hour later, the music was off, so who knows how long it went on? When is this cock leaving? That’s what I want to know. Or is that a thing of the past now that we’re here? At least this thing doesn’t like the heat and at least it’s hot more often than not out here, cuz I’ve been hearing less and less of him as the weather’s warmed up. That’s why he was out so late, or else I’d have heard him in the afternoon. I’ve never heard his music that late before.

Tom said he’s seen one of the owls we have around here that we can sometimes hear hooting at night. They live in the big Palo Verdes that are close to the house. He said the one he saw was huge.

He also said he’s heard buzzing that sounds like that out of a horror movie, but cannot find any hives. He said he thinks the buzzing could be from katydids, but I doubt it. I think it’s bees.

To do a test to see just how much these allergies are related to the mice, I’ve condensed their living space and am going to change them twice a week instead of once a week.

Standing in the mirror, I took pictures of myself with my haircut. God, I have aged! I just don’t look like I did in my 20s. I’m graying, sagging, wrinkling and fat!

We decided we’d sleep together next Saturday night. I’m going to work with him for a few hours on Saturday, so we don’t want to disrupt my sleep the night before.

Tom just called from the cell phone saying he was approaching Circle K and asked if I wanted anything. I told him he could get me my favorite - caramel coffee.

I have a grand plan to lose this extra weight once and for all and if this doesn’t work, nothing will and I’ll just have to accept the 20 extra pounds I’ve got and live with it. I’ll just maintain what I’ve got and keep my weight between 120-125 for the rest of my life by watching what I eat and by working out if this plan fails.

Having 1000 calories a day for several weeks just won’t cut it for me. It’s too long and drawn out a process and I just don’t have the willpower to cut down my food week after week. Also, cutting down food is an awful lot like cutting down cigarettes; it doesn’t last long. You either smoke or don’t smoke at all. Same goes for the food. So, I’ve decided to try crashing my weight off at 5-pound intervals. It shouldn’t take me more than two days to starve off 5 pounds and if I could just lose at least 15 pounds, I would lose inches. Especially since most of my extra weight is fat at this point. If I can shed that outer layer of fat, then it’s OK if I gain the weight back with muscle, as long as my inches stay down. Anyway, I decided to pick Wednesdays and Thursdays as my crash days because on weekends he’s here eating a lot. I didn’t want to pick a Monday because that’s the day I usually go out and I wouldn’t want to go out if I couldn’t stop somewhere for a bite to eat. Anyway, the idea is to crash down to 120 pounds this week, then try to maintain that till next week. Then I’ll try to crash down to 115 and maintain that till next week when I try to crash down to 110. I’ll settle for 110 for now, depending on how it goes. One of three things will happen. I either won’t be able to do it at all, or I’ll be able to do it but won’t be able to maintain it, or I’ll be able to do it and I will maintain it. The last time I struggled to maintain a weight of 110-115, I didn’t have the Bowflex. Maybe this time around it’d be easier to do, but I will admit it is a long shot because I’m fighting nature. It’s not natural to be at an ideal weight when you’re middle-aged.

God, I wish we had money right now! I can’t believe the Gloria things they’re auctioning on eBay! Concert programs, posters, and CDs I’d love to have even though I’m not into her like I was in the late ’80s to early ’90s.

The amount of childbirth on TV never ceases to amaze me. It’s getting more and more, too. It used to be that every other show, movie, and commercial had childbirth in it, but now they’ve got a whole series just about that! There are three different series that I know of that are on every day and it’s nothing but people having babies. I don’t understand the obsession. I can see the murder mysteries, the sex, and the comedies, but the childbirth? I just don’t get it.

Later...

Just took some gorgeous sunset pictures out back. It’s absolutely beautiful out right now and I can’t wait till we have an Arizona room! That way we can be outdoors and not have to worry about bugs.

Last Saturday was the last of The Others.

Tuesday, May 16, 2000

I finished proofreading my story and now it’s Tom’s turn.

Not that I want to have sex more often with this guy, but every day I see he’s such a liar about saying he wants more sex. He spends the bulk of his time that he’s home sitting in front of the TV, never making time for sex when the opportunity’s there, except for once during the weekend.

Later...

Tom put the flag up yesterday. I had him put it by the front door. I’m flying a flag of a cactus and coyote. The same one that hung on the wall in the back room over the microwave in Phoenix.

He also evened out my hair.

It’s very windy right now, as it usually is. It’s nice to hear the wind chimes, but this wind gets old. All it does is scatter the shit outside about the land and interfere with us burning trash. Tom said he heard we could be in for some rain today or tomorrow and it could be only in the mid-60s. Yeah, right! Well, it sure as hell isn’t going to rain. I doubt it’ll rain till August when the monsoons set in.

Wednesday, May 17, 2000

I decided not to do my grand plan of a diet because I know I’ll only end up working so hard for so little if anything at all. As soon as I started eating again, I’d only gain back whatever weight I lost.

I’ve been working out for six weeks now and Tom says I look different overall. Oh, yeah? Then how come I’m the same exact weight since I began and how come my measurements are the same as they were when I began? I’ll tell you why - because I just don’t have the willpower to eat 1000 calories a day and work out for at least three hours a day. I need 1500-2000 calories a day and I can’t bring myself to work out longer than 20-60 minutes a day.

To top it all off, I’m sick of dealing with it. I’m fat and I’m always going to be. Period. Sometimes the best way to deal with a problem that can’t be solved is to just ignore it. Just crumble it up like an unwanted piece of paper and chuck it in the garbage. That’s all I can do. Just forget it and accept the 20 extra pounds I carry as a part of me that just is. Just like my arms and legs are a part of me.

Later...

Tom fixed one of my programs that wouldn’t run in Windows 98 which is what I’ve been using since my mouse and word processor first died.

Evelyn’s serious about giving us her trailer. She sent home a few pictures of it with Tom. It’s recently been painted, so I guess I won’t be painting it any time soon. It’s white with light blue trim. Again, it’s a 40’ single-wide and looks like Dennis’ trailer, only it’s bigger and newer. It may be a while before we get it because it may be a while before she moves. We’ll have to come up with the money to haul it out here and have it set up. As Tom pointed out today, the thing has to be strapped down with the way the wind is ferocious out here, or else something that size (a fourth of the size of this house, barely) will blow over and smash into this house. We want to put it where half is behind the house, and the other half sticks past the master bedroom end of the house, blocking the view of the rentals. You could probably see the rentals from the kitchen and den windows, but not from the retreat, once it’s here.

Just think, I told Tom, a workshop that comes with a ton of storage space, a place to wash up, and a place to pee! Now he won’t have to come all the way to the house just to pee.

I feel so bad for Evelyn. Yes, I know all too well what it’s like to live in a shit neighborhood with shit neighbors that I just can’t wait to escape! Like most trailer parks, hers is loaded with scum freeloaders. I can just imagine all the noise she has to put up with! I’m sure this place has always been bad too, and that she just couldn’t resist wasting her time like I used to by asking the lazies to lower their music and that by now, she’s just asked one freeloader too many, causing their shit to escalate. You don’t do that to them. You just don’t ask blacks and Mexicans to turn their music down. First they’ll ignore your request, then they’ll get pissed over it. There’s no changing the blacks and Mexicans of this world, although Joebitch’s boy toy did quiet down in the end. Why, they didn’t raise holy hell right before they moved, though, still baffles me to this day. What would they have had to lose at that point if they were out from under the city’s wing?

They have a new series on HBO all about the lives of blacks. No thanks. I don’t care to watch blacks stand out on the streets dealing drugs and shooting people any more than I care for the childbirth.

Thursday, May 18, 2000

Yesterday was a major breakthrough as far as any resentment I’ve ever had towards Tom for not cumming. Even though I have long since stopped wanting a kid and although I’ve always known I was sterile, even if doctors could never tell me why, I had conflicting emotions, nonetheless, that I feared would never change. I felt controlled by Tom and I resented his not cumming regularly to let me play things out, despite the inevitable outcome of me never conceiving. I was angry with him for taking the chance to do that away from me. Let’s put it this way, I still feel it was always within his control and that he made the choice not to cum, and I always will feel that way despite how much he denies it. I also don’t buy his feeling bad about it, because if that’s how he really felt, and if he really had a problem that was out of his control, he’d have done something about it a long time ago. So obviously my feelings about it never mattered that much to him, and if they did, they didn’t matter as much to him as his being and staying the way he is mattered to him. For his own reasons, it was always more important to him to keep me from conceiving, than it was to deal with my feelings and do things to give that a chance to happen, despite the odds against it. I’ll never believe Tom’s lack of cumming is out of his hands unless a doctor came out and told me - look. It’s not his fault and there’s nothing that can be done about it. If he couldn’t get hard in the first place, that’d be different.

I still have no regrets about how things turned out. I’m glad we never did have that kid or else we wouldn’t be where we are today in life. I just wish I never had to go through the damn pain of wanting one and knowing I could never have one in the first place. This is why I can never shed my hard feelings towards God, no matter what he blesses me with. That, and how he allows so many horrible things to happen throughout this world. Any God that can let a woman suffer the way he let me suffer can never be respected or loved by me. I’ll never forgive him for robbing me of my right to choose, even if it was the best thing he ever did for me. Still, that should’ve been my decision to make.

Anyway, I finally feel any hard feelings I’ve ever had towards Tom dissipating. He doesn’t ever have to cum, I don’t ever have to play out scenes that weren’t meant to be played out, and I don’t ever have to have invitro. And I don’t resent him anymore. His happiness and his being how he wants to be is what’s most important to me and life is good, overall. Why change a good thing? Like I said, I really appreciate those dry sheets and not having to use birth control! He’s happy, I’m happy, and life will go on and be just wonderful, no matter what it holds for us, as long as we’re together forever. I know we’ll still have our bad days. I know things will still break, money will still be an issue (at least for a while), he’ll still get colds, I’ll still have breathing problems, but I’d rather the car have a flat tire every day if it means being with him than to have any of my old life back. Especially the part before I knew him.

Friday, May 19, 2000

Just went out and threw some food out for Gophie. Haven’t seen that snake since I first saw it. I guess it moved on.

Freddie’s gotten to be the fattest mouse I ever had and he’s so lazy, too. I wonder if he doesn’t have tumors.

Anyway, maybe there are still some hard feelings toward Tom. God, all the problems with sex. Sex, sex, sex! Always sex-related! I’m so fucking sick of it! Eliminate all the fights over sex and having a kid and we’d hardly ever fight. At least we don’t fight nearly as much as we used to since I became OK with not having a kid. He’s not only lied about why he doesn’t cum and about wanting a kid, but he also lied about cumming back when I tricked him by playing dumb and commenting on how he came regularly. He was caught red-handed, yet he still had the gall to lie to my face. So, he’s already proven that he’s capable of lying when it’s in his best interest. Aside from his lying about sex and a kid, I appreciate him for a million reasons, but does he fully appreciate me? I’ve done a lot more than just save him time by doing his laundry and cleaning the house. Do you know how many women would’ve left him because of the sex, and mostly because they couldn’t have a child with him? He, right along with God, has taken so much from me, regardless of if I’m OK with it. Not that I desire to leave him or cheat on him, but I’m doomed to a life of shitty sex, when he wants it, how whatever’s up there wants it, with no regard for what I may want, and God help me if I ever want a kid again. Yes, God would see to it that I miscarried as many times as they did an implant in me if I had invitro, but do I really think Tom would ever let me get that far? Right! I’m sure he’d either refuse to cum or tamper with it if he did. If I never mentioned a kid again, neither would he for as long as he lived.

I’m also a little tired of his getting so defensive over simple little comments I may make. Last night I offered to have sex, but he wasn’t in the mood. It wasn’t the weekend. All I said was, “Yeah, I know you’re a weekend kind of guy,” and he was like, “Yeah, well, let me be me.”

Now what did that comment have to do with him being him? All I did was make an observation. Not demand he be somebody else. As far as dominating and controlling the sex, he sure is your average, normal male! Thank God he doesn’t want it just about every day like most males do! That’d really drive me crazy.

Anyway, the reaction to my comment and to a test I ran him through is what upset me most. I said I was thinking of experimenting with calling the gay lines just to see what his reaction would be. Sure enough, he was against it. So, he can do what he wants sexually, but I can’t. It’s amazing he even goes down on me at times. Nonetheless, I would never step out on him and I know it’s a good thing that he objected, and I figured as much, but I just had to see it anyway.

My sex life isn’t over just because of him and his boring bullshit. It’s cuz of me. I just have no interest anymore. The only thing that interests me is to close my eyes and imagine a woman down there while I use the vibrator and this isn’t nearly as often as it used to be, either. It’s just that when you’re dealing with fantasy, and I’ve always felt this way, there are no problems. The vibrator could break, but it doesn’t lie to me and play games. It doesn’t make me feel controlled, manipulated or cheated out of things that should rightfully be mine. So, I guess I was wrong to say I was over my hard feelings towards Tom. Perhaps I never will be and perhaps this is the one thing I can never ever forgive him for. I’m going to try my damnedest, though, not to give him the satisfaction of knowing how I feel, even though I’ve told him. I just don’t want to let it show if I can help it. I’ll just go along with him and let him dictate when and how we have sex. I still could do without a kid, and at the same time I have hard feelings, I want him to be happy and do what he wants more than I want him to change to suit me.

I feel this is more than just a case of his not cumming because he doesn’t want the expense and responsibility of a child and because he doesn’t think I could handle a child (even though he denies all this). I think it’s also about arrogance and stubbornness. It’s like a competition to him that he’s determined to stick to and win. It’s almost like he’s been saying to me all these years, “You got your way with this, this and that, and you’re not getting your way with this one.”

Fine Tom. Just remember - the next time you say you’re bothered by how you are - do something about it or don’t mention it at all.

It’s important that I note that for every time he’s lied about sex and a kid, he’s done and said thousands of wonderful things. I love this man dearly, despite his flaws, and I couldn’t imagine life without him. Even if I returned to wanting a kid really bad and knew I could conceive by a man who’d cum regularly and was attracted to men in general, I’d still give that up in the name of love. I love Tom enough to give up anything I may want that I can’t have with him for whatever the reason may be. I only wish that he’d be honest about things. He should’ve told me up front that he was against cumming and a kid. I still would’ve loved him and stayed with him.

Now, after nearly 7 years of this sexual shit, I’m SICK TO DEATH OF IT!!! So, hopefully, you won’t be hearing much about it from me from here on out. I’m fated for the sex to be how it has been for the rest of my life. Period. Why cry over spilled milk?

Later...

This is just too damn weird! I usually get up around 10:00 these days, but I’ve been up since 7:30 today. That’s because I had a dream someone was knocking on the door and got up and checked to be sure and couldn’t fall back asleep. I didn’t see anyone, and I was sure it was just a dream seeing that I’ve had dreams like this before and how early it was, but now I don’t know. Surprisingly enough, it turns out that Tom had that same exact dream at 2:30 in the morning, 6 hours after going to bed, just like me. I can’t find any other common denominators, though. He said he was sure his was a dream because it didn’t sound real and because of the hour, but this sure is a bizarre coincidence, not to mention the footsteps I could’ve sworn I heard inside the house. Although the animals could’ve easily made this sound, shortly after he went to bed, I went and vegged out in bed with coffee. Well, he sometimes shuffles his feet when he walks. Especially if he’s tired. I could’ve sworn I heard him come shuffling out into the kitchen and fumble around with something in there, be it a glass or whatever, but he says it wasn’t him. If our dreams weren’t dreams, then who the hell would be knocking at the door at such odd hours and why? Burglars don’t make any sense because 2:30 in the morning just isn’t the time to go breaking into houses unless you want to risk getting killed. At 7:30, someone could’ve seen that the car was gone, but if they knocked with plans of breaking in if no one answered, why didn’t they? I peeked out the window cuz I can see the stairs from there. I didn’t see anyone, any fresh tracks, or any cars, so who knows if our dreams were just dreams or not? It’s a hell of a coincidence, though.

The first thing I think when I think of knocks on the door is - oh, no. Somebody did something to the blacks or Mexicans and they don’t know who did, so they’re conveniently naming me just to get at me and just to punish somebody for whatever shit happened to them. 

These people are sick enough to do something like that, and besides, this world is so black and white, lacking fairness and gray, balanced areas. Meaning that where whites once had more rights than minorities; now it’s the other way around. You think Mr. Biased would jump to defend a white person being harassed by a black or a Mexican? Somehow, I don’t think so.

Saturday, May 20, 2000

My hair is the healthiest it’s been in over a decade. I certainly don’t have any split ends anymore. Maybe a few, but they’d be hard to find, just like it used to be hard to find any that weren’t.

I couldn’t have been righter when I told Tom in Phoenix that old curses never die, and that we’d be playing leak in no time at all after moving. This is leak number three already! Those mother-fuckers at Palm Harbor! Aaaaaaaaaarrrrrggggghhhh! They’ve got two marks against them. They’re males (mostly) and they’re Mexicans. I love this house, but I totally regret not taking Tom’s suggestion and getting out of Phoenix sooner than we did. I didn’t know, though, that we’d have to go through the four months of bullshit we went through, although I should’ve known, and I didn’t know the house would be made in Mexico! We should’ve cut our freeloader time down, skipped out on the freeloaders altogether, and left Phoenix sooner. We could’ve gotten land and a cheap trailer like what we’re getting from Evelyn and lived in that while we built a house for us and built it right. These fucking Mexicans half-assed so many fucking things with this house, it’s fucking pitiful! The leak we had under the house the first night we were in here, though, was Brian’s fault (always a fucking male), but the half-assed tightening of the pipes under the kitchen and second bath sinks were completely Mexicans-made. Tom just discovered the second bath’s sink leaks and believes this may be the cause of the foul odor we’ve smelled in there. Now why can’t these lazy bastards do something as simple as tightening a valve all the way, huh? Is this really that difficult to do? Pathetic people do pathetic things. Anyway, even Mary was astounded. She was like - you mean you’re fixing leaks on a brand-new house?! Yup. And I’m sure we’ll be fixing something else they’ve fucked up real soon. Anyway, I’d like to know what’s causing the foul odor in the master bath. So far, I amazingly can’t find any leaks in there yet, although this odor is different. The second bath smelled kind of like the smell of hair dye that hits you went you walk into a salon. The one in the master bath smells like seaweed. I’ll keep an eye on it, but it looks like they may have left us one area that actually doesn’t leak. What’s next, though? The toilets? The dishwasher? What?

Household problems aren’t the only unfortunate vibes I have. Right now, I have the feeling we’re not getting a printer in June like we had hoped and talked about. Something does not want me sending pictures to Doe, Art and Tammy. Tom said he’s not ready to give up on it and I told him that I was, so when he sees that I’m right, don’t beat yourself up for it, I said. It’s not your fault. You know whose fault it is.

Steven and Dan, you lucky, lucky mother-fuckers! They’re just as lucky as Bill and Larry and so many others for escaping my fists. How I’d love to scar up Steven’s face so that every time he looked in the mirror, he remembered me!!!

Well, I’ve been working out for six weeks now and where do I stand? Really close to where I started. My starting measurements were 37-29-38 with 22½ thighs. Now they’re 36½-29-37 with 22 thighs. Big deal, huh? Although I suppose it’s better than nothing. I still think I’ll always fluctuate between weighing 122-125 pounds and an inch or so in measurements, but he says that in time, if I stick to working out, I’ll fluctuate between smaller numbers. That’s OK. I can accept maintaining what I’ve got. I mean, at least I can maintain and never have to worry about getting bigger. Carrying 20 extra pounds for the rest of my life won’t kill me. There are worse things than that. Also, I’m glad I finally found something I can enjoy sticking to. I can’t imagine life without the Bowflex! I’m 122 pounds today, but today I can’t shit, so I’m sure I’ll be gaining. Last week I was stuck for four days and ended up going from 122-125. I hope I’m not stuck that long, but if I am, I am. There’s nothing I can do about it.

Tonight’s the night Tom and I agreed we’d sleep together, but I have a feeling that if I don’t mention it, he won’t either, so we’ll see. I’m not going to mention it because I want to see how much it matters to him. I don’t want to push him into doing something he doesn’t want to do. As for me, you know I hate sharing a bed so I can live without us sleeping together. I wake up at the slightest movement, and his snoring is horrendous. What’s important is that we love each other and stay together forever.

We were going to go to where he works together today, but he didn’t need to work, so we visited Mary, Dave and Mom today, stopping at Circle K first.

Her evaporative cooler felt nice. I miss those things. We were there for a little over two hours and made sure not to arrive till Pepper was gone. They brought him to be groomed. It was nice not having him out back barking his ass off. All I had to listen to at times was their obnoxious birds. The hamster and fish are quiet, though.

Before we left I copied a few pictures for them onto a floppy. Pictures of the snake, the iguana, the scorpion, and the outfits we made for Bailey.

We all watched the Preakness horse race on TV (boring) and Mary and Dave went out to get pizza at one point, too. Dave and I teased Tom and Mary for liking pepperoni pizza and they ranked on us for liking mushroom pizza. I had two pieces which fortunately didn’t fuck up my stomach.

While Mary and Dave were getting the pizza, Mom said, “Have you seen the really cute commercial? The one where a woman’s having a baby and out pops a Japanese baby?”

I’m like - oh, please! I’m so sick of commercials, movies and shows with that shit. I’ve seen childbirth on TV more than murder!

Speaking of TV, I guess part of the reason we’re not getting the printer in June is my fault. I mentioned how our TV is a little small and definitely too dark since it’s very old. Well, they took this to mean more than just a casual comment. I guess I came off as not being able to live without a good TV. I said something about the TV a few times and they ended up calling us once we got home offering to buy us a new TV for our anniversary unless we could think of something we wanted more. Well, I want a new printer more than a new TV, but a new TV would certainly be nice. Very nice, and I know Tom would love it because he said he wants a TV more than a printer and because of how much he loves TV. He spends 90% of the time he’s home watching TV, I sometimes feel I have to compete with it and that he doesn’t want to spend time with me. There’s not much we could do together, though. He doesn’t like sex all that much and we can’t go swimming together, that’s for sure. Anyway, I have mixed emotions about them getting us a TV, which is so generous of them to offer. I want Tom to have what he wants, but like he said, I threw a monkey wrench in his plan. He was hoping for more money than usual for our anniversary cuz Ma’s upping the amount of money she’s giving people to avoid us being taxed when she dies, and now we may not get that if we get the TV. If I was smart, I’d drop the idea of sending pictures to people, like I said before. If I’m right about something not wanting me to do it, and it gets more and more obvious that that’s the case, I don’t want to get in trouble over people I can’t stand anyway. I only wanted to rub it in their faces (the new house, etc.), but not that bad. They’re not that worth it, trust me.

Mary’s yard looked great. She’s got those wildflowers at the side of her house, a pretty primrose bush in front, a rose bush, a tall palm tree, etc. We can’t plant things here from seed because of how the wildlife eats them, but hopefully we won’t have any problems planting things we’ll get from a nursery someday.

Mary told us a cute story about a woman she saw playing with a rat in her car at an intersection. She said it was running around her neck and that the woman was picking it up by the tail and tickling its stomach.

I can’t believe how good Mary’s thighs look for being as overweight as she is. I mean, she’s much bigger than me, and she is overweight, but not like Nora and Evie and so many other women are. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she jogged. Her thighs seem skinnier than mine and firmer. Also, she has no craters on the backs of her thighs like I do. How does she pull it off and eat McDonald’s every day and not exercise?

Later…

Looks like I guessed right. Sleeping together once a week isn’t that important to Tom, or else he’d have remembered our plans. Still, I’m not going to make him do anything he doesn’t want to do, and besides, I doubt I would’ve enjoyed it. I like sleeping with people in my imagination.

I totally dread my next dentist appointment. My teeth are a mess and I’m going to have a dozen cavities! My teeth have even been sensitive to hot and cold lately.

Later…

I decided that once Tom mentioned going to bed and heading towards the guest room, I’d ask if he forgot about our plan, or if it just wasn’t worth remembering. He said he forgets to do things he wants to do all the time. Whatever. I asked him what he wanted to do and he said he’d sleep in his room tonight, but that he wanted what we discussed to have time to “sink in.” He said that people usually go to bed around the same time, but not to go to sleep with the hopes of trying not to wake the other person up. He said it’s a shared thing where sometimes you wake each other up, both intentionally and not. Sometimes you just wake each other up by accident, sometimes you deliberately do so to screw, etc. So what do we do from here? I asked him, and he said there were no plans and no steps to take, cuz this is something that just is. Not for us, it isn’t. I think we’d have some work to do in order to make it something that just is if that’s possible, but as I told him, I’ll do what he wants, and whatever’s fated to be will be. I have a feeling, though, that if we try to adapt to new ways, something up in the sky will get awfully mad at us, cuz wouldn’t we have been sleeping together all along if we were meant to in the first place? I told him that the spontaneity of it sounded nice, but if he liked spontaneity, then why does he announce when we’re gonna have sex? He always says something like - let’s get together in ten minutes, or something like that. He said he would prefer to be spontaneous about it and that the reason he announces it is that I’m always saying I’m gonna listen to music, have popcorn, or do something, so he feels that’s the only way to wedge it in. I kind of took that as a lame excuse, though. Yes, I’d like to be left alone when I’m listening to music and yes, I’d like to eat my popcorn in peace, but what about the other things I do? They’re interruptible. I take breaks from the things I do all the time, anyway. If I’m reading in the bedroom, he’s welcome to come in and join me because that book will still be there when we’re done, and I don’t mean just for sex. I mean for anything, be it to chat or whatever. In the end, whatever will be, will be. I still truly believe that. We’ll go where we’re destined to go.

Sunday, May 21, 2000

I’m experimenting with and trying to get to like this newer, more modern word processor I’m using. I like how it automatically caps the first letter after a period and the I’s in words like I’m, I’ll, etc. This word processor is three years old and the one I’ve been using all along is eight years old. It has all the functions the other one had, plus some new features that are hard to figure out, but I’m working on it. This is the word processor we’re going to use to send my story to publishers.

Paula definitely had to have lost her phone for her not to have called this long. I’m rather disappointed that she never sent me the letter and picture she said she was going to send. Why does she have to be such a bullshitter? Maybe something happened to her, though. Maybe she punched someone else out and is in jail, or maybe she got killed. In my next letter to her, I’ll say something about stopping my letters in case something happened where she wasn’t getting my mail, and see if that prompts her into writing.

Dan’s got his place lit up and has his music on. This time it’s softer than last Sunday night and I can just ever so barely make it out. This is one lonely, dude. I said to myself – I’ll bet come Sunday evening, after spending the whole weekend alone with no one to talk to, he’s gonna get desperate for attention and play his music when it cools down. Well, I was right. I guess I know a lonely person when I see one. I’m amazed he isn’t engine-gunning. Other than that, it’s been a quiet, peaceful weekend. I finally get to live the way I want to live and the way that should be my right to live if I want to – in peace. I’ll enjoy every second I get of it! It’s so wonderful not knowing next door’s habits and who they have for visitors and when they have them. It ain’t my business and I don’t want to know!

On the wall in my office where I intend to put that beach mural, one of these years, I hung two rows of flags. Two rows of three. I’ve got irises, Tweety, an underwater fish, Bugs Bunny, Snoopy, and musical notes. Personally, I think it looks sort of tacky. Especially with Indian dolls in front of it. I may take it down. We’ll see.

I’m having one of those screwy periods that are slow in starting. I had spots, then a light flow, and now I’m waiting on my full flow. I thought that was coming on early cuz I got all crampy and asked Tom for a raincheck on sex if he had any plans for that today. No problem, he said. He took it so well as usual. I guess this means we’ll have to wait till next weekend since he doesn’t really like sex during the week, even if he won’t admit this. If I’m right, and I’m only going by his actions, cuz actions do speak louder than words – what’s the big deal? Why can’t he just admit he likes sex on the weekend? And at the end of his day? He seems to copycat me, though. Meaning that when I bail out of sex for whatever reason, he does the same thing. So, next weekend, he may bail out. Better yet, my guess is that we’ll get in bed together, but we won’t screw. Something will happen where he’ll conveniently forget how to go inside me, or I’ll be too dry, or he’ll be sore, tired, or curious about what’s going on outside. One or the other will happen for sure, but he’ll bail out. I’d bet my dolls on it.

Monday, May 22, 2000

Two nights ago I put Ratsy and Fudgie in the big barred cage, but when I got up this morning just before 9:00, I noticed that Fudgie escaped. I should’ve known he was still too skinny! I haven’t seen that little devil, whom I’m guessing is asleep under the couch, but come tonight when he gets hungry and thirsty, I expect I’ll see him. At least he’s not a chewer and hasn’t damaged any wires.

I’m not even stuck and I’m back to 125 pounds. I feel like a giant balloon! I don’t know if it’s water or what, but this period has been super screwy. I woke up with cramps today but never bled a drop. My tits are still a little sore too, so when am I gonna flow out and be done with this shit for the month? I hate having these periods be such long, drawn-out ordeals. Can’t I just get my period? Just simply get it? Better yet, how about a hysterectomy? Why not, God? You and I both know I don’t need my uterus.

Later…

Well, I’m not stuck anymore. Still 125, though. Why is it so natural for me to be 20-25 pounds overweight? Why??? Stupid question, I know. Just about everyone who’s over 30 is overweight. Although I knew it wouldn’t, it still would’ve been nice if I could’ve lost weight and inches with the Bowflex, but if I bounce back and forth between 122-125 it’ll be better than going over 125. Same with the 1-2 inches I bounce between. Better my thighs go bouncing between 22-23 than to wake up one day with 25” or even 30” thighs!

The only way I could lose weight would be to starve it off, but what’s the point? If I were 110 tomorrow, I’d be back to where I am now in a few weeks, so why bother?

I know it’s daytime, but it kind of bothers me that I haven’t seen Fudgie. I’d like to believe he’s under the couch, sleeping happily and comfortably till he gets hungry enough to show himself, but why do I have the feeling I’ll never see him again, and that if I do, he won’t be alive? God, please don’t take this rat! At least not so soon!

Later…

Fudgie’s home! I just got up to head into the kitchen for coffee when I saw him at his bowl eating. I had moved Ratsy into the tank and left the door open to the big cage so he could get food and drinks. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, in light of losing Scuttles so soon, but man is this rat scrawny! I hope it’s nothing bad and that he fattens up soon.

I see Gophie out front playing right now. Now that my inside pets are situated, I think I’ll go out and give her a bite to eat.

Later…

It’s hot out there. I don’t know how hot since as usual, I’m having trouble getting online.

I took down the flag wall I made. Tom climbed the ladder and tacked the top row of flags up, and I only had to climb about three rungs of that shaky ladder, fortunately, and could just yank the flags off the wall. It was just too much. Too tacky looking. The beach scene mural will look a lot nicer.

I guess I’m officially moved over here and done with the 1992 version of this program that had been such a good friend of mine for so long. Another thing I like about this program is that I can use more than eight characters for file names.

Later…

Tom called about a half-hour ago, saying he was leaving work. Last night he told me it’d be a late day for him, but because his boss doesn’t want him working overtime, he gets to leave work early later on in the week.

Oh, how cute. Gophie’s out front running back and forth. I wonder – is this the same animal I’ve been seeing and feeding? Or are there other Gophies? I get the feeling this is the same one because I’ve never seen more than one Gophie at once.

I changed the mice’s cages earlier. I’m trying to change all the animals on Mondays and Thursdays instead of just Mondays. Although I always have the group of six mice in a large tank, I always do a different tube design. This time around I have a tower of straight tubes sticking off of T-tubes at different angles, stemming up from the bass of the tank.

I guess Fudgie could live like a cat if he’s not going to chew and damage anything. Or decide to go pissing and shitting wherever he felt like it. If I left the cage door open, he could come and go as he pleases, using his cage as a litter box and for food and drink. Ratsy, on the other hand, is a chewer, so unless I want to separate them, which I don’t, I better keep the door shut. Maybe I’ll separate them sometimes and let Fudgie run around loose for a while. Maybe tonight, before bed, I’ll stick him in the big cage, and then let him escape for a while.

Tuesday, May 23, 2000

I’m a bit rundown now. Something just hasn’t wanted me to sleep without interruptions these last couple of nights. The night before last, cramps woke me up. Last night I was up for an hour with cramps too, and then I woke up for a second at 8:00. I would’ve gone right back to sleep if I hadn’t noticed that the power was out. I wasn’t planning to get up till 9:30. The first thing I thought was – oh no! Tom forgot to pay them or couldn’t pay them and now the power will be off all day and I won’t be able to reach him for hours and it’ll get to be a sauna in here! And what if we lose the phone, too? Well, I never did reach him, but fortunately, it wasn’t turned off for lack of payment. It was off all over Maricopa. Since I couldn’t reach Tom or fucking APS, I called Mary’s. I expected to get Mom because Tom told me Evelyn was going to stop staying with Mom during the daytime and that Mom would be going into an adult daycare center, but Evelyn answered. I told her that I couldn’t reach Tom or APS and that I feared they shut us off, but she was the one who got through to APS somehow and found out that they were having problems in the area and that it wasn’t just us. So I was without power for nearly an hour. Then again, a couple of hours later, it went out for about ten minutes. Due to the loss of power, it shot the well, so now I have no water, but I can certainly live without that compared to the AC. Of course I’ve had to piss and shit like hell since I can’t flush the toilets. Hopefully, they won’t back up once the water’s on again. I wish there was an easier way to reach Tom!!! He might be able to tell me how to reset the fucking pump. Anyway, I don’t want to get into too much computer work in case the power fails again.

For now, I’ll just say that I put Fudgie back in the big cage yesterday and let him escape since he doesn’t seem to be harming anything. I really think he goes under the couch. He escaped sometime after I went to bed at 12:30 just like the night before, and Tom and I noticed he was gone at 3:30. He should be getting hungry for lunch soon, or rather a midnight snack, for being the nocturnal creature that he is. Anyway, when I found him gone I put Ratsy in the tank since I don’t want him loose too, cuz he chews more than Fudgie. After putting Ratsy in the tank, I opened the door to the big cage so he can get in when he wants to go home.

Later…

Tom showed me how to record a macro so I could insert the time with just two keystrokes that I hit at once. Ctrl+8 is for the time and ctrl+9 is for the date and time. In the other program, I recorded a macro for the ½ sign, but this program automatically inserts the ½ sign when you type 1-slash-2. It also makes the ‘st’ of 1st smaller and the ‘rd’ of 3rd smaller. Yes, I like this version much better. I just need a new mouse. I miss having the motion wheel.

I took a nap for an hour or two. Hopefully, I’ll still be able to go to bed around midnight and sleep straight through till around 9:00 without interruptions.

Earlier, I heard a boom car stereo go by for the second night in a row, but I never did see the car. Tom still insists they can’t live out here because they can’t take the vibrations of the bumpy dirt roads, but obviously they can, although it may be someone who just visits someone else frequently. Nonetheless, I heard it and I’m sure it was from a car and not from a house. God, what am I going to do when they get more and more frequent?! They may not be able to get as close to me as they used to, but when they progress a little more and get even louder, that’ll make up for the difference. When it comes to these things I wish I was born earlier than the mid-60s. The turn of the century would’ve been nice. Then I could be dead or close to it when the damn things came out. People get worse and worse and pushier and pushier when it comes to doing their thing. They get more and more selfish and more and more desperate for attention. I saw a case on Cops the other night where a baby’s parents took it to a bar. Then the parents had an argument and they ended up outside in an alley. At one point, the mother handed the baby to a homeless bum so she could fight with her husband. My point? My point is that these are the kinds of people that are becoming parents more and more often. Eventually, all parents will be like them. Well, this baby – these are the kinds of kids that grow up to be the selfish losers like what we had to live next to for years. This neglected baby is going to grow up wanting to be heard, to be noticed, to seek the acknowledgment of its existence. It’ll do anything for attention. Just like a religious fanatic wants to spread God’s so-called holy word to as many people as possible, these fucks want to spread their music to as many people as possible. The best way to reach more people with noise is with music. I mean, what else are they gonna do? Stand out on a street corner and yell? That’d get some attention, but not as much as a moving car would with music blasting from it that’s way louder than a person’s voice. Anyway, it’s quiet here 99% of the time. The best thing about the power failure, which makes a house dead quiet, is not having to listen to barking dogs, let alone noisy blacks and Mexicans. You rarely hear dogs in here, thank God. They haven’t even been booming in the sky. It’d be nice if they only did that January 1st – March 15th every year, but fat chance. I’m sure they alternate flying schedules. Maybe they’ll start again on June 1st, which may be a good thing. It may help me stay on schedule till my next appointment.

I finally got a hold of Tom at work around noon and he came home to reset the well, which shuts itself off after a power failure. I tried to do it myself, but the buttons are fucked up thanks to when it shorted out before. Thanks, Dan, you mother-fucking cock! Will there ever be a day when I don’t want to kill Steven and Dan? I doubt it!

He reminded me that I could’ve called his old work number, cuz there’s always someone there that could go get him in an emergency. I did call that number, but it was busy. Maybe I dialed wrong.

Another thing Tom pointed out is that due to this house being so well insulated, it wouldn’t kill me if I had no AC all day. It’d get uncomfortable, but not to the point where I’d roast to death.

Anyway, I learned a lesson from this, which he pointed out – don’t attempt to take a shower after a power failure cuz that’ll just drain all the water from the pressure tank. If I don’t, then I can flush the toilet 20-30 times. Having two toilets helped so I could divvy up my peeing between the two, trying to use as little toilet paper as possible, although if I’d had to do them all in one, it wouldn’t have backed up.

Fudgie, whose nickname is Houdini, after the famous escapist magician, lost his freedom today. I discovered one of his hiding places, which neither of us was too surprised about since it’s close to where I sleep. I still think he may have gone under the couch, but he was definitely hanging out in the corner of the master closet behind the guitars. He chewed the toe up on one of my old ballet slippers, which I thought was no big deal. I simply moved the good shoes up to the shelves. But then the little devil had the nerve to chew holes in the airbed, so that was it. He’s in the tank till he can’t squeeze through the bars. I also think it’s best that he remains in captivity so he doesn’t get too used to being free and less and less wanting to be handled by me and to play with me. I want him to want to hang out with me too, and not just to want to explore.

Wednesday, May 24, 2000

Oh, that fucking spit doctor! He just doesn’t give up. Like he needs any more money than he’s got? The cock that cleaned my ear out is still trying to bill us for it yet it was supposed to be covered by our insurance. Tom called them once or twice and told them it was an insured appointment, they said they “screwed up their billing,” but they keep billing us. Well, we’re not paying for something we don’t owe money on, that’s for sure. And I don’t believe they “screwed up their billing.” I think they deliberately bill people for stuff they’re insured for to try to make an extra buck, hoping some sucker will get fed up with the bills and collection agency letters and just pay the damn thing, but their scam won’t work on us.

What was weird was that I not only got a letter about it from a collection agency, but I got a certified letter. I never got the letter, though, cuz they sent it back. They try a couple of times to get the letter to you, but when that doesn’t work they give up and send the letter back. I didn’t get it because Tom didn’t go to pick up the mail on the days they tried to get it to me, but that’s OK, I’m not interested. I found it strange that they’d send a certified letter and not just a regular letter. Since when do collection agencies send certified letters? Tom said he’s sure that’s who the letter is from and he pointed out how there was no return on the envelope of the regular letter or the slip for the certified letter. I hope he’s right, cuz those freeloaders have me so paranoid (even though I haven’t done a damn thing to these shitfucks). Especially when they’ve got cops on their side like Mr. Biased who wouldn’t believe a damn thing I told him, anyway. He never wanted to see the truth as to which one of us was really the victim. Tom said not to worry and that if it was anything official, I wouldn’t be getting a certified letter over it.

Evelyn left a message for me to call her, saying Ma wanted to talk to me, and I was like – what could she possibly want to talk to me about? Anyway, I called her (I must’ve had the music blaring when she called) and Evelyn answered. I apologized for getting hysterical on her yesterday and she was like – no problem, and even gave me her home phone number. It’s funny to think that of all the people Evelyn hates, which is almost everyone, she likes me. I can see her liking Tom like she does, but me? When Tom told me what she was like, I expected to be the last person she’d like. Anyway, she handed Ma the phone and she thanked me for the letter and I was like – oh yeah! I forgot about that. Evelyn told Tom that she thought it would be nice if Ma got letters so I typed her one. She thanked me for the letter and told me that she was going to be checking out that adult daycare center. I hope she likes it, but I worry about her. I just get very nervous when I think of hospitals, daycare, nursing homes, schools, etc. There’s always some hotshot on power-play.

I’ve devised a self-help plan regarding my rage over Larry. I’m hoping this will be very therapeutic for me. For some reason, I just can’t seem to get over how furious I am at that sick cock. I just want to kill him! I want to break his and Bill’s neck so fucking bad. They need to be taken down a peg or two by a female and I’m just the bitch to do it. They are so lucky I don’t live there! Anyway, I’m speaking my feelings into a tape just as if I were talking to his face and I plan on mailing this tape to him at some point. I just wish I could know he’d listen to it, but I doubt he’ll have the guts to hear me out. I’m sure that as soon as he hears my voice he’ll ditch the tape. I’m still gonna send it anyway and make sure I don’t put enough postage on the envelope so he has to pay to get the tape, hee, hee! I won’t waste my time praying to God for him to listen to the tape, because just like 99% of my prayers, he’ll only ignore me. He obviously ignored me when I begged for the freeloaders to read my mail. There’s no way those freeloaders would read my mail first, then call the cops. It’d take people like this, who are slower and dumber than your average person, weeks to read through all that shit. They can barely write, so imagine how long it’d take them to read about 200 pages! Anyway, even if the cock doesn’t listen to me tell him what a lying little wimp he is, it’ll still feel good to make the tape and make him pay for it, too.

Later…

We put up this really neat thing that his mom gave us. She used it in her old house, I guess. It’s a digital thermostat that tells you both the inside and outside temperatures. We used the Mexicans’ half-assed ways to our advantage. They didn’t seal up the back door very well, so we were able to run the wire out through the door without crushing it. That wire needs to be outside to sense the outside temp.

I forgot to say that I’m back to 122 pounds, but it’s not encouraging, believe me. I know I’ll be back to 125 pounds soon enough.

Thursday, May 25, 2000

Tomorrow I should be able to get Carol Kane’s TV schedule for June. Please be on, Office Killer and When a Stranger Calls Back!

UPS delivered Tom’s award from work. A giant portfolio.

Larry’s not going to be a happy camper. Again, I acknowledge and admit the fact that this was very childish and immature of me, not to mention a waste of time if he doesn’t listen to it, but I couldn’t resist making that tape I mentioned where I told him just what I felt about him. If he does listen to it, he’ll be shocked at some of the things I had to say. I also looked up D online and found two listings in the area. The one in East Longmeadow is Sandy’s parents, which I verified by calling last night. I called and a woman answered. I asked for Clara and she said, “Yeah,” then I mumbled Larry and Sandy’s names and hung up.

I’m sure she called them to see if they were OK. There was an Agawam listing for a James D and I’m pretty sure that’s Sandy’s brother. They’ll both be getting similar letters all about what a fucking asshole Larry is. I know they’ll tell Larry that they got their letters. That’s a done deal. But will they show it to him or read it to him? I hope so! I also hope he’ll want to listen to the tape to see what I might be saying to other people, but with my shit luck, Larry just won’t be that curious and will never read one word of the letters or hear one word of the tape. That doesn’t change the principle of the point – letting him know I’m still out here, still hate his guts, and that I’ll always be a problem for him. Hell, he’s lucky, cuz I’d be more than just an annoyance for him if we lived close to each other. I’d be his worst nightmare! Me sending the letters to these people, even if he’s not exactly close to these people, should piss him the fuck off. As much as I’m anxious to get these letters and the tape off in the mail, I’ll probably wait till I send Dureen, Art and Tammy their pictures. If I send the tape and letters now, it may cause Dureen and Art not to even open my mail if they get that pissed over it, cuz you know Larry’s gonna call them and bitch about it that very day. They may not have the guts at that point to open any mail from me for fear of what may be enclosed. That’s OK. I don’t mind waiting. Good things are worth waiting for.

Later…

Fucking Cybertrails! They’re as bad as AOL was for a while. Most of the time I can’t get online. I’ll try around midnight tonight. Hopefully, I’ll not only be able to get on then, but I’ll be able to get the schedule, too.

It’s 86 degrees outside and 82 degrees inside. It doesn’t feel like it’s that much in here, though. It feels like it’s 75 degrees in here.

I had a craving for fruit so I had Tom get me watermelon, strawberries, blueberries, and kiwi when he stopped at the store. The kiwis are a bitch to peel. No wonder I don’t get them that often.

Thank God we won’t be in Phoenix for this 3-day Memorial Day weekend that’s coming up. Thank God! How I dreaded this particular holiday in Phoenix! Although the Mexicans were quiet for the last Memorial Day weekend they were next to us, and I don’t remember too much of a ruckus from the blacks. Even so, I don’t expect this place to be without music. The only difference is that I’ll hear the beat of the music faintly. It won’t sound like someone’s trying to hammer our walls down. And I won’t be able to hear any people or dogs. Just the beat of Dan’s music. Or someone else’s. Probably Dan’s, though.

Well, I don’t feel like reading, I don’t feel like working on another story, I don’t have anything more to say here, I don’t have any letters to do, there’s nothing on TV at the moment I care to see, so I’ll go row. I may even work out too, although today’s not a workout day. I’m just so glad I’ve finally found something I can stick to. It may not bring me the results I’d like, but it’s still something I can stick to. I got so sick of the floor work after a few weeks or so and just totally lost interest and motivation.

Friday, May 26, 2000

The Memorial Day weekend is starting early from what I heard. When I got up at 10:00 and turned off the fan I could hear the faint beat of music and I was like – you gotta be kidding me! Thanks, God. Thanks a real lot. I expected music tonight, Saturday night and Sunday night, but Friday morning? Anyway, it only lasted two minutes and again, I’m virtually certain it was that boom car stereo Tom says can’t live out here. Well, it probably doesn’t or else I’d hear it every day, but it sure visits a lot. The reason I’m sure it was a car is because of the way the volume faded in and out and because it only lasted a couple of minutes. Usually, when someone turns on a house stereo or radio, it’s for more than a couple of minutes. Again, I’m pretty sure it was coming from the front, too. I just thank God we’re not in Phoenix, but of course there wasn’t too much of a ruckus from the Mexicans last Memorial Day weekend. That’s because they weren’t there yet. I remembered after my last entry that they didn’t move in till June 1st. So, in less than a week they’ll have been freeloading it for one year. Well, in the house, that is. I’m sure they’ve been on welfare and ripping the state off for years.

I see Gophie now, so I’m gonna go give her a bite to eat.

Later...

Gave her some lettuce this time around. It was last week’s lettuce for the animals that are just starting to wilt and it’s more than she can eat, but maybe the rabbits will eat it, too. It’s biodegradable, so it’s OK. Whatever doesn’t get eaten will dry up and disintegrate like old leaves. She just popped up out of her hole and is attacking the lettuce now. She’s gotten to be more trusting. She used to stay in her hole for about fifteen minutes after I’d return to the house after dumping her some food, but now she’s back out in five minutes. I put the lettuce by her hole, but not too close to it in case there’s a snake that may jump out at me, although I doubt she’d be near where a snake was. Still, I always take precautions. Anyway, it’s cute how she jumps out of her hole, runs and grabs a piece of lettuce, then runs to eat it by her hole so she can hop down into it if something dangerous comes by.

Speaking of a certain indoor pet that just won’t stay home, Houdini is the perfect name for him. Sometimes you’ve got to have a pet for a while to come up with the best name for them. Well, Houdini certainly suits this guy. I put him in the big cage last night, along with Ratsy, figuring that even though he is growing, he could still escape, but probably wouldn’t do so till after I went to bed. This time, though, I put food and water outside the cage for him, lifted Ciara’s outer skirts, and blocked off the retreat and my office. Sure enough, I found him in his favorite spot in the closet when I got up, then I put him back in the big cage. He didn’t fight me, either. He let me pick him right up. Because rats are normally nocturnal, including this one, I figured he’d sleep and not escape again till tonight, but I was wrong about that. I walked by a little later and found him sitting by his cage, and boy did he want to play! He ran around his cage and climbed around and under me. I put him back in the cage and found him out again when I was on my way to pee. I went and peed, which he had to follow me to do, then decided it was time to tank him. He’s still wound up too, running on the wheel. I don’t know what’s got him all hyped up today.

There’s a quail hanging out by the bush the iguanas used to live under. Now they seem to be living under the bush by the bedroom.

They still haven’t updated Carol’s schedule and I don’t know if they’re going to do it later today or if they’re going to do it later this month. The last time they updated it, they did it on the 26th. Maybe they don’t do it the same day every month.

Later…

My God! Today this rat’s as dayturnal as Gophie and gerbils are. I just put him back in the big cage to see what he would do. He escaped instantly and ran under the bed, which I shooed him out of, and into the closet to his favorite spot behind my guitars. Then I made sure he heard my footsteps walking away, then quickly and quietly I tiptoed back and lay on the bed where I could see under the closet door. I wanted to see if he’d stay there and go to sleep, or if he wanted to explore. As I figured he would, he stuck his head out from under the door and saw me right away. Then I went into the closet cuz he had run back to his hiding spot. I sat down on the floor and he walked up to me. Then I picked him up and re-tanked him. He’s still too hyped up to go to sleep anywhere.

I forgot to mention the dream I had earlier. I dreamt I weighed 115 pounds. Is this a sign of weight loss to come? Well if it is, it hasn’t happened yet cuz I’m still 122 pounds. The thing about it is that I dreamt about gaining weight before I gained it the first time around, after quitting smoking. I think I had dreams about losing it too, before I lost it, although I can’t remember for sure. I’m not going to get my hopes up, but we’ll just see what happens. At this point, especially after working out now for nearly 7 weeks, I think I’ll always bounce between 122-125 and that I’ll never lose the 2 inches from my thighs and the 3 inches from my tits and hips and the 6 inches from my waist that I’d like to lose.

Later…

This has been the most erratic period I’ve ever had, with such a slow start and a slow ending. Never have I had such intermittent cramps, bleeding and spotting. It starts and stops, starts and stops. Since when do I spot for a few days after my period? That’s something I usually do before my period. Maybe this is when God has something go wrong so I need a hysterectomy. Or maybe this really is normal for me. Who knows? I still don’t get why it was so important to God that I ended up with a man if he knew he didn’t want me to have kids. Not that I regret meeting and marrying Tom for an instant, but why was my true love fated to be a man? Why couldn’t I have had what I have with Tom with a woman? I’m sure I’ll wonder about this for the rest of my life.

I think I’ll go see if the new schedule is posted yet, but I doubt I’ll be able to get online. Between noon and 9 PM, getting online is impossible.

Later…

Cool! For the first time ever, I see three Gophies out there! Two big ones and a baby one. No wonder all that lettuce got eaten so fast.

It’s a scorcher out there now at 112 degrees. Gonna try again to get online to get the schedule, but I doubt I can get on now.

His mom offered to pay for us to have the trailer moved out here, making it more possible. How generous! That’d be wonderful of her.

Later…

Yes! Office Killer and When a Stranger Calls Back are on this month (got the schedule a couple of hours ago)!

Saturday, May 27, 2000

When I got up this morning, the first thing I did before getting my coffee was go into the closet to pull Houdini out and put him back in his tank. Again, he didn’t fight me. It’s amazing how he stands still and lets me pick him right up. I don’t put him in the big cage till around 8:00–9:00 and he doesn’t bother trying to escape till after I go to bed because he wants to play with Ratsy during those hours.

Thank God I’m not in Phoenix now! I’ll especially be thankful I’m not there on Monday.

Tom told me that somewhere in the Midwest or the East, a 13-year-old boy was sent home from school for being disruptive. A while later, he returned to school with a gun, said something to his teacher, then shot him in the face. That’s your all-American kid for you. It seems that once we hit the 90s, kids went downhill. That’s because the parents got worse and worse. I asked Tom if the kid was white and he said they didn’t say. Not that white kids aren’t bad enough themselves, but this sounds kind of blackish to me. I think shooting up teachers is a black thing. And the sad thing about it is that this kid’s not gonna be tried as an adult. It’ll be put in a school similar to Valleyhead, although it’ll probably have its windows barred, and it’ll be free by the time it’s 21.

I didn’t bother weighing in this morning or taking measurements like I have been for the last six Saturdays or so, because I know I’m still right about where I usually am. I know I’m 122-124 pounds, and my thighs are 22-23, my hips and tits are about 37, and my waist is 29-30.

Got another doll poster for my office wall yesterday. An Indian girl doll that’s pretty nice. I like having these doll posters. It not only makes for good decoration, but it’s almost like having these extra dolls that I don’t have and I don’t have to dust them or worry about breaking them.

Later…

We haven’t even been here six months and we already have a boom car stereo driving by regularly, just as I predicted. Thanks, God. Thanks a lot. Sure, it’s not nearly as loud as the boom car stereos that’d drive by in Phoenix, and sure, we don’t have to listen to people screaming, balls bouncing, and dogs barking, but the point of the matter still stands – I don’t want to know others exist when I’m in my own home and I don’t want to hear anyone else’s music but my own. This time I saw the car. It was a red car that came up from the front bedroom side of the house and drove up Meadow Green, the bedroom side of the house. As far as I could tell, it passed the renters. Of course the drivers were cocks and of course they just had to be blacks or Mexicans too, from what I could tell. Tom still swears that by the end of June, the stereo will either be broken, or they’ll get sick of driving on these roads if they want to keep it working. But it’s now become rather obvious that they live here. I’ve heard them too many times now for them to be just visitors. They live here and no one who’s into attention-getting stereos like that is going to just give that up, nor can they necessarily just up and move as soon as the thing breaks. Moving takes money and if they just moved into the area, and obviously they did, they’re not going to want to move again so soon, so they’ll just keep fixing the fucking thing. Although, I don’t believe Tom when he says they’re that sensitive. I think they can stand up to these roads just fine and even if they couldn’t and the stereo broke and they didn’t fix it, some other boom car stereo will drive by regularly enough. God will see to it. It’s in my cards. I’m destined to be forever stuck with these stereos and eventually, they’ll get tougher and tougher and louder and louder, so it’ll be as loud as it was in Phoenix without having to drive right up to the house. The good thing about it is that because they have to drive so slow on these bumpy roads (some of them are graded well enough to go 65 MPH on and some aren’t and you have to creep) is that I’ve got a good two minutes or so warning when they’re approaching. I can hear them for a couple of minutes before they get up to the house. Plenty of time to be waiting for them. What’s to say they can’t have a little meeting with me? Hee, hee! I told Tom I wasn’t kissing ass out here and I meant it. I’ll take care of anyone or anything that becomes a problem around here. I lived how others lived in Phoenix, but this time around, we’re gonna do things my way. So, come July 1st, when they’re still banging by like Tom says they won’t be, I’ll arrange a private little get-together with these cocks.

Tomorrow, Tom’s going to meet Mary and Dave at Fry’s Electronics store and pick us out a new TV all the while they get badgered and harassed by salespeople. I opted to stay home since I can’t stand crowds and pesky, pushy sales reps. Mary and Dave are going to waste their time and gas following Tom home to help him carry in the TV. I appreciate their taking the time to be helpful, and I know Mary’s old-fashioned in the sense that she thinks men should do the carrying, but I’m just as capable as any of the guys. I can help my husband myself just fine.

Later…

Our blasting boys haven’t been by again yet. They probably went into the city to do some drug dealing or to get wasted at a friend’s house, but they’ll return at some point today. At least they won’t be in and out every 45 minutes like the Mexicans were. The only thing that makes no sense is that so far I haven’t heard them more than once in a day. Well, wouldn’t I have to hear them at least twice if they went out once; when they left and when they returned? Maybe I was listening to music and missed one of their attention calls.

When I called Tom in to check them out as they were going by the bedroom, he tried to convince me that he couldn’t hear their music, but he had to have heard it. Why does he do these things; try to tell me something is when it really isn’t, or vice versa? He’d have to be deaf not to hear it, even if it wasn’t nearly as loud as in Phoenix. He also tried to tell me a few times he didn’t see or hear the sickos when I knew that couldn’t be.

Later…

I just looked back, and if this is the same car I’ve been hearing, we heard them on April 15th, then again on May 7th, then nearly every day since the 21st. Sounds like someone started visiting someone then moved in with them, or was having a place prepped and now they’re fully moved in. This proves Tom doesn’t know what he’s talking about if it truly is the same stereo, but we’ll see for sure over the next few weeks. I think it’ll be an everyday thing until I put a stop to it, and believe me, I’m only too happy to do so!

Later…

I can’t believe this dryer doesn’t buzz when it stops. It’s a pretty good dryer too, that you’d think would have that, but it doesn’t.

Tom’s dozed off on the couch right now. Let me guess – tomorrow evening we’ll get together for a boring, predictable round of sex, huh? And let me guess some more – he’ll either not want to go inside, or he will, but he won’t cum, right?

Life may be full of surprises, but our sex certainly isn’t!

Later…

Haven’t heard anything else, but the long weekend is still young, and the day is still early. If people are gonna blast music, they’re likely not to start till nighttime when the weather’s cooler and they can open their windows and doors to let the sound out.

I can’t wait to finally send these pictures off to Tammy, Doe and Art and to be done with them. I just want to rub this new house and things like that in their faces, and I can’t wait to send off Larry and his associate’s mail, too. Wish I could be there to see his reaction! The last time I said I was sending shit to people he knows, I bluffed him. So, just when he thinks I wouldn’t do that, here he’ll be getting two phone calls all about the mail they received. I just hope they read it to him or at least tell him the contents of the letter in enough detail. And I hope to hell he hears that tape, too. I wonder if he’ll try to do something about it like look up those with my last name in Phoenix and send them mail. Well, if he does, he’ll have an awful lot of mail to send out, cuz there’s a zillion people with my name. He does what he does, but nothing he can do can get to me the way I can get to him. What can he do? Take me to court? Have me thrown in jail? The funny farm? There’s just nothing he can do. This isn’t mail between non-related people where a white person refers to blacks and Mexicans using nasty words, after being harassed by them with noise. The police are gonna give him the same brush-off they gave me if he goes to them as when I tried to call his local police department and bitch about him making prank calls to me. They’re less hesitant to get involved when it’s family, and all they’ll do is tell him what they told me – she’s on the other side of the country. The cop I spoke to did say he’d call him and tell him to knock it off, but I don’t believe for a minute that he really did. Of course, there’s always the chance that Larry recognizes my handwriting on the envelope, although I tried to disguise it, and ditches it right then and there. Who knows? He may even be afraid to bother opening things with no return address. Whatever happens - the ball’s now in my court and I hold the threat over him. He’s completely powerless against me. There’s nothing he can do to ruin me or hurt me in any way, but there’s plenty I could do to him.

Later…

Not surprisingly, Dan’s place is all lit up. If he’s blaring music, I wouldn’t know it, cuz I have my own on right now.

Thank God I’m not in Phoenix!

Later…

Just added Jenny’s father to my mailing list. Yeah, I went online and looked up her last name and of course Jenny wasn’t listed, but her father was. He’s in the same house they’ve been in for nearly 20 years in West Springfield. Her father has got to be really old now. I know her folks were older than mine. He must be in his 70s. Anyway, the idea is to piss both Jenny and Larry off with my sending the letter to him. I not only hope Jenny will read the letter, but I’m sure she will unless her dad gets so disgusted that he tears it to shreds. Anyway, I bet on the odds of her reading it and wrote at the end of the letter: shame on you for reading your dad’s mail, Jenny! The worst thing that could happen to me for this is that they send me a letter about it to our old address which will get forwarded, of course, and which I’ll have returned to sender. I’ll recognize their handwriting, and of course, they wouldn’t put a return address on the thing. God, on the other hand, is gonna get me good for this, but it’ll be worth it.

Sunday, May 28, 2000

Tom left an hour ago to meet Mary and Dave at Fry’s. They should be back around 1:30. I have mixed emotions about this arrangement. I’m grateful for the new TV, but I feel a little insulted by her insisting Dave help carry in the TV when I’m perfectly capable of helping my own husband.

Haven’t heard the boom car stereo since yesterday morning, and I doubt Dan ended up blasting off. If he did, it was for a very short time because his lights weren’t on for long at all. I was surprised.

Time to go out and feed the Gophies.

Later…

OK, I just fed them.

Houdini didn’t stick to his usual routine last night. He doesn’t usually escape till after I go to bed, but at 9:30 I caught him running around in the retreat after I had come out of my office. He was hiding under the walker (I’ll store that in the trailer). I put him back in the big cage and later found him in the closet. I put him back again and he stayed in the cage till 9:00 this morning. He probably came out looking for me wondering why I was late. Animals are pretty sensitive to time. I upped the alarm from 9:00 to 10:00 cuz I couldn’t fall asleep till 2:00, and he was probably wondering why the alarm didn’t go off at 9:00. How I know he didn’t escape till 9:00 was because Tom said that’s when he last saw him. When I got up at 10:00, he was under the walker. I had blocked off the retreat by putting a towel across the bottom of the door, but he simply clawed it away, so I made that room safe for him to hang out in. He was wound up, as usual, for a while after I tanked him, and even tried to bite Tom.

Later…

The new 25” TV is here. Sure beats our old dark 19”. It was on sale for $200 and fits in the entertainment center perfectly. Mary and Dave visited for about 20 minutes, then they took off for the casino to win another thousand dollars of money they don’t need.

Later…

Tom’s still watching the new TV. He did take a break to race his car on the computer, though. Good, this, along with his cut toe and cut face, will delay our boring sex. I don’t know how he got the cut on his toe, but he obviously got the cut on his face from shaving. I know Sunday evenings are his favorite time to screw around, but I still say I’ll get to get out of it altogether cuz of I was cramped out last weekend and not in the mood. I just wish he’d make his excuse before we bother to get into bed and go through all the bullshit motions. And I swear he wants to wear my hand out at times, making me do him by hand forfuckingever! Long after he’s hard he still has me doing him by hand, probably to make up the difference for screwing for only a few minutes, and I’m like – come on, buddy! Let’s get this over with. You’ve been hard now for ages.

It’s amazing how many channels they’ve got! Fifty channels alone for music is total overkill. I’m surprised they don’t have a channel just for commercials. A channel for current commercials, one for old commercials, and then one for each type of commercial. A channel for car commercials, one for having babies, etc.

Monday, May 29, 2000

Thank God I’m not in Phoenix! I’m surprised it hasn’t been a bit musical around here yet this weekend, but I’m sure someone will blare their music today. Either Dan will blast off, or that boom car stereo will drive by.

Anyway, Tom’s doing his favorite thing – watching TV. He did do computer stuff, though, too. Since we didn’t screw Saturday or Sunday, I guess that means we’ll have to go through the bullshit motions today. He’ll wait till he’s been up for 10-12 hours, though. He said he got up at 6:00, so I don’t expect him to make a move on me before 4:00.

I changed the animals earlier and realized it was a waste of time putting food and water outside of the cages when all Houdini has to do is go home to eat and drink. If he can get out, then he can surely get back in, and Tom verified this today. When I got up at 10:00 he was home, but Tom said he wasn’t home earlier. So, he can come and go as he pleases when he’s in that cage, but until tonight, I have him tanked.

Later…

Wow! It looks like he may not touch me at all. If he doesn’t, I’ll have mixed emotions about it. A part of me will feel like he doesn’t want me anymore or find me attractive, although who could at this day and age? A bigger part of me will be glad to get out of something so planned and predictable. If we do screw, I’ll have mixed emotions about that, too. I’ll be bored with the same old, same old, but will feel there’s still a little bit of attraction still lingering. He tells me I’m beautiful, but I think that’s just another one of his lies. What’s beautiful about me? The freckle on my shoulder?

I wrote another letter to Mom.

Maria called telling us that the water’s getting really low, so don’t forget to pick some up! Some idiot in this area, who obviously doesn’t have a well, left this message yesterday. How stupid can they be? I mean, didn’t they realize that Tom’s voice wasn’t familiar, or does Tom sound exactly like someone they know?

Later…

He finally brought up the subject of sex. Right now he’s taking the 2-3 hours he likes to digest (it used to be 1) before we screw, and waiting till the very end of his day. Maybe he wants to finish himself off in bed. That’s another thing – the sleeping together hasn’t happened and I doubt it ever will. I put the ball in his court to see what he’d do and he hasn’t said or done anything differently. I don’t think either of us wants to sleep together that bad and I also think we’re so used to the way things have been that it’s all the harder to change.

God, give me the strength to come up with an excuse every weekend! I’d just feel so guilty, although I know I shouldn’t because he wouldn’t miss the sex any more than I would. I’m just so sick of the same old, same old. It’s so damn planned and predictable and boring me to tears. I can see why so many couples cheat, only it’s for different reasons than ours. I’ve got a predictable, dry dick here that’s boring me to tears, and other women have guys that smother them. Also, they bitch about how the man gets it over within a few seconds and doesn’t take the time to do it slowly. Yeah, that’s what I’ve got with this man here, but again, the reasons are different. Other women’s men are in and out because they’re horny and want a hole to squirt in. This man’s in and out because he’s too scared to cum in a place that he doesn’t know whether or not a kid could result in.

Later…

I was right. He didn’t go inside. I asked him if it was due to my being too cramped out last week and told him that I wrote how I suspected this would happen and thought it was quite a coincidence. He swears he wasn’t copycatting me and said he wondered if my subconscious led to his not being able to go inside (meaning, maybe that caused me not to put my heart into it), although he admits he “jumped the gun” the first time around by not having me do him by hand longer. The first time around when I went to warm him up he got fairly hard, but as soon as he went to go inside, he was his usual dry, limp self. The second time around, although I thought I was doing my best, I just couldn’t get him into it and hard, so I stopped and told him I thought it was hopeless and that I was sorry I couldn’t do a better job. He then went on to say that he wanted more variety, I won’t hurt him as long as I stay away from his balls, don’t give up, and he wants me to be happy. As I bluntly told him, he couldn’t make me happy sexually, because he couldn’t and wouldn’t make the changes necessary to make me happy, but that that was OK because his happiness is more important than mine. I want him to be himself and do what makes him happy. I’ll sacrifice sexual happiness to please him because he’s worth it and I love him. But he wouldn’t be happy doing things that’d make me happy. What would make me happy would be to not know what day of the week we’re going to screw, yet I know it’ll be Saturday or Sunday, but probably Sunday at the end of his day. It’d also be nice if I never knew when he’d cum, but instead I always know he won’t. Even so, and like I told him, I know how important it is for him to be himself and do what makes him happiest and most comfortable. It’s still hard to get used to a man needing so much foreplay, I told him, and that I’ve got to keep in mind how different he is. Then he said he’s just him. He’s both. He’s himself and he’s different. We’re talking about a man, who like a woman, needs a lot of foreplay, has a lower appetite, and rarely cums.

Tuesday, May 30, 2000

It turned out to be the quietest Memorial Day weekend I’ve ever experienced out here. The Saturday morning boom car stereo was the only thing I heard. Even Dan’s place was dark and quiet last night. Makes me wonder if he finally fucked off and headed for Indiana.

I can just imagine what must’ve gone on at our old place. Must have been quite a riot, but then again, maybe not. The noise was aimed at me for the most part, so maybe they happened to simmer down once I left, but I’ll never know. I’ll never know how the Hs feel about living next to them, either. I figure there are not too many possibilities. They either don’t mind having their yard trashed and the noise to listen to (if they are up to their same old tricks), or they don’t like it, or they shut up and kept their garbage to themselves. Maybe it’s a combination of things. Meaning, maybe they are quieter, but still noisy by most people’s standards, and the Hs just don’t care.

Again I woke up at 121 pounds. Maybe that dream will turn out to be a premonition, but at the rate I’m going, if I were to be 115 pounds, that won’t be till November. It’s funny how I gained and started losing weight at the exact same time of year as the last time. The first time I gained weight (after quitting smoking), I started gaining in October and didn’t start losing until May. Same with the second time around and I also gained the same amount each time I gained weight. I peaked at a little over 125 pounds. Since I can’t muster up the willpower to eat 1000 calories a day, I upped my workouts and workout every day now. I even worked out twice yesterday.

I have a dress that I don’t need to wear a bra with when I’m around the mid-120s because it’s a snug fit at that weight. Now that I’ve dropped a bit, it’s not as tight around the chest.

Later…

Not only has my body gotten used to shitting at 121 pounds, but I just had to up and take my second dump of the day. What I wonder is – will I go back up to 125 pounds before my period?

I forgot to mention that last week I finally received a newsletter from the doll company I got some of my cheap dolls from. The dolls I got at K-Mart had a card you fill out for their club, but all their club is newsletters about other people’s collections. Like I really care? I don’t want to meet or talk to other collectors. I thought they’d send catalogs or coupons or something like that.

Houdini’s so funny. He was in his usual spot in the closet when I got up. I put him in the tank and didn’t bother to put the lid on it. I knew he could jump out, but I didn’t think he’d bother. Well, he did. He jumped out and right into the big cage.

Later…

And he jumped back out of it too, so now he’s in the tank with the lid on.

I just went out to feed our many outdoor critters. Tom said that when he was out yesterday, he saw one on each side of the house and says there are at least 6 of them around here (I know I should spell out numbers the professional way, but I’m writing a journal, not a book, so I won’t be so formal and proper).

Later…

This phone has rung the most it’s ever rung in the last couple of days. I just got an out-of-area call where the person never spoke, but I know someone was there because I could hear them before they hung up on me. I forgot to block our number when I called Sandy’s parents. I hope to hell they don’t have Caller ID.

Maria and the stupid Mexican Elena called, too. Maria’s this New York-sounding woman who thinks we sell water. Again she called saying she was low on water, and after the 3rd call from the Mexican, they finally left a message. Not much of one, though. They just made this sigh-like sound before hanging up. I could hear a radio or a TV on in the background, too. Getting 3 calls in one day is a lot, till the sales calls come in a dozen a day like they used to. I still don’t understand what it is with these people, though. Maria made it sound like she’s talked to the guy she was looking for before, so why doesn’t she realize that Tom’s voice is different? And what about these Mexicans? Shouldn’t they not recognize Tom’s voice?

It’s funny how Mary and Dave have been in this house 3 times in the 5 months we’ve been here, yet they were never at the Phoenix house in the 6 years we were there.

Later…

Oh, please! Just when I thought Dan was gone for a few months, it starts an engine-gunning spree.

Anyway, Tom’s looking into a really cool program that lets you make your own fonts. I want one that’ll let me write out the letters which I can then scan into the computer. However, having a dead scanner doesn’t help. Something’s really been cursing my computer this last month or two, and one of the many things to get fucked up is the scanner. Tom said he hasn’t figured out what’s wrong with it yet. Well, I hope he figures it out soon, cuz I have a really funny idea. The idea is to forge Andy’s handwriting, something I can do very well, from samples of stuff he’s written in a few journals of mine, and write a letter to his mother. No, I’m not gonna say anything mean, violent or sexual. I’ll just write the kind of letter Andy would really write, and then laugh over knowing how confused he’ll be when he hears about the letter he never sent. Then he’ll really wonder about his pot brain!

Wednesday, May 31, 2000

They’re back to booming again. At 10:30 I heard a slight boom. Not the kind that’s really thunderous that you can feel. This one didn’t vibrate the house. I’m surprised they’d start up again on the last day of the month. I thought they’d start up on the 1st or the 15th.

Dan only gunned his engine a few times, but even so, I’d like it better if he’d get out of here. The fewer people around, the better. If he’s still here this late in the year, I doubt he’s going to be leaving at all.

My allergies are going off starting last night, but fortunately, they’re not constant sneezing fits. Not yet, anyway. I’m just having a few sneezes here and there. Not the kind where I sneeze 20 times in a row and have to jump up to blow my nose. My nose isn’t runny. My eyes were itchy, though. I had to put some eye drops in.

When I got up I got Houdini out of the closet and put him in the tank with the lid, but as is the usual case for two hours after I’ve tanked him, he’s all wound up. I took him out a couple of times and let him run around on the bed till he tried to jump off the corner closest to the closet.

There was a Gophie by the snake hole and I brought out some food. This time she waited till after I’d stepped out the door before diving into the hole. That’s getting brave.

Maria called again today but she didn’t leave a message. Yesterday, there was a fourth call. A private number with no message. Please, God, don’t let it be that Clara got our number! Even if she did, though, I suppose it wouldn’t harm anything. Larry wouldn’t want to talk to me any more than I’d want to talk to him. I don’t think he’d even bother leaving me a fuck you message after the mail I intend to send. If anything, he’d give the number to his mommy and daddy and have them do his dirty work for him. They’d call to bitch about it. Since they probably couldn’t get the number, though, and therefore can’t call, it’ll be interesting to see if they call any other people with my last name about the letters or if they send me a letter to the old address. I just wish we’d hurry up and get that printer! I don’t want to send Larry and his associate’s mail before Doe and Art’s, cuz then Doe and Art may be too afraid to even open any mail from me.

Later…

My allergies are acting up worse, so I popped a Benadryl. However, I’m sure it’ll fail to dry up my nose and stop my sneezing, as usual. Instead, it’ll dry up my mouth and cause me to take a 1-2-hour nap. Oh well. I felt like I had to do something. So much for the cutting down on the mice space experiment. I swear you could put me in a sterile environment and I’ll still have allergy fits for no apparent reason whatsoever.

Later…

My allergies have been making me miserable all day and I wonder – am I going to have this every 2-3 weeks for the rest of my life? And if not, what will the problem be that replaces it? I’ve racked my brains trying to figure out the cause of it, but there’s no pattern. I just can’t see a cause. That leaves only one thing – God. God’s the cause of this and I hate him for it!

I decided to spread my cleaning schedule out from 3 days a week to 6 days a week, so it won’t seem so overwhelming. Here’s my plan:

Mon. - master bath Tues. - liv/my office Wed. - den/his office/guest Thurs. - second bath Fri. - kitchen/utility Sat. - laundry Sun. – bedroom/retreat

[excessexorcism]

Item #46 - ROCKURWOK Ceramic Nonstick Sauce Pan, 1.5 QT

I ordered this from Amazon two years ago, a few months after moving into my own place. It was one of those practical housewarming purchases—I used a gift card I’d received to help set up my home. I knew I had a much nicer stainless steel saucepan back in another state that I’d retrieve eventually, but in the meantime, I needed something functional to hold me over. A small saucepan is something I use frequently, so I grabbed this one without giving it much thought.

I enjoy cooking, and I firmly believe in investing in quality cookware—but when it comes to nonstick pans, I always go cheap. I just don’t trust nonstick to be built to last, even the so-called “nicer” options. (I got scammed by an Our Place pan once—NEVER AGAIN!) Despite being careful with my nonstick pans—I don’t use stainless steel utensils, I hand wash them, and I never use high heat—I still don’t expect them to last forever. Case in point: My longest-lasting nonstick pan is a $5 Daiso find (Japanese dollar store). I’ve had it for nearly a decade, and it’s still nonstick and scratch-free. This pan, by comparison, started scratching after less than two years. Annoying!

To be fair, I bought this knowing it wasn’t going to be my forever pan, but it’s frustrating to see it fail so soon, especially because I took care of it. At least it was essentially a gift, thanks to the gift card.

Verdict: This pan cost $25.95, which seems steep considering it didn’t last very long. I feel like I could have found a cheaper and potentially better-quality nonstick saucepan at HomeGoods or Ikea. That said, I did use this pan frequently while I needed it, so I can’t say it was a total fail. Still, I’m annoyed it only lasted two years before the coating started scratching. Unfortunately, I don’t feel comfortable donating this due to the damage, so it’ll have to go to the landfill. However, arguably, even if it wasn't scratched, it might have been time. I have the stainless steel one back, and I can't justify two pans the same size. Still, it's a shame I have to toss it rather than donate it.

Lesson I’m Trying to Learn: This one’s tricky because, at the time, I genuinely needed a small saucepan, and I was using a gift card. I don’t think I could’ve avoided the purchase altogether. I could be more mindful, but I’m not going to be too harsh about this one. Still, maybe a bit more research on Amazon could save money and avoid waste.

[kittykatbatass]

WARNING: sensitive content.

Today I finally blocked a narcissistic psychopath for the last time. We spent over 2 years together. He’d bring me doughnuts and coffee and take me out to eat. He was sweet and adorable and cuddly for about 5 months. We got in a huge drunken fight and the cops came. I didn’t give a statement thinking he would do the same. He called his Mom who came to his house and they told the police a bullshit story getting me arrested and charged with 2 misdemeanors and a felony. No convictions obviously cuz I didn’t do it. He wouldn’t call and admit to lying because he didn’t want a charge for falsifying a police report. I paid a lawyer to help me and it ended easily because he texted me saying he lied and I had multiple videos of him wasted with knives in hand threatening to kill himself. I had to ignore the screaming and verbal abuse to grab the knives from him and hide appliances so he couldn’t take a bath with them. He passed out in the shower regularly and threw up up all over himself too. He blamed this behavior and his fucked up treatment of me on the abuse his dad inflicted on him as a teen. It was bad. I would beg him to see a therapist and consider meds. He went once and quit. He was a fucking menace when he drank.

I’d ask him to hug me or be nice to me and he’d tell me to stop crying and stay away from him. I got in a car accident one day after we got in a fight at his house. We both had been drinking and he kicked me out. I remember crying in the front steps and he wouldn’t open the door. I almost died. Flight for life from the scene. Totaled my Subaru that was paid off. I woke up in ICU to my Mom who they called to come to IL from CO. He showed up later. My Mom stayed a couple months to pay my mortgage and take care of me while I healed. She sold my house and left me homeless because she told me I was such a bad alcoholic. I tried to break up with him then and moved in with my ex fiancé for 2 months.

At this point I had forgiven him and took him back , I moved in with him. This was the worst mistake of my life. I couldn’t work and could barely walk even with a boot. He’d scream at me telling me he was too stressed out to be dealing with my presence not having a job or being able to buy much. I healed and started working, I tried to leave again for an old flame who ended up stealing $2k from me. I went back. I started working to save for a new car, we agreed he’d let me stay for free til then as long as I cleaned everything and took care of our 2 cats and 1 dog (then 4 cats and a dog) He got a better job with my help making him call and dress nice for the interview etc. I managed to work enough to pay my bills, get gas and food, pay him back, and pay some court fines and save $4k ($2k to the old flame) and the rest I had to use for a lawyer… cuz I had found out I was being charged with a felony dui for the accident.

The whole time I lived with him he would periodically start fights about small things like me having friends or not cleaning enough or talking to single men etc. When this happened he would kick me out of our apartment after hours of screaming at me, he’d say things like I was a drug addict, a junkie, cheating, my parents don’t love me, I have no friends, just the meanest shit. I was no angel and would yell back a lot. He was so drunk most times he didn’t remember and would later make up a version of what had happened that made it look like I deserved it. When I got kicked out I’d usually call a few people whom I knew and had hung out with a few times and for a couple months and eventually someone would pick up and I’d Uber there to stay for a night or 2 or 3 or a week… once he stole my purse and phone and almost didn’t even use my phone and my money to get me an Uber back.

I always knew he was cheating after work and when I wasn’t home either at work or kicked out. He would hide my things in the attic. He insisted he never did and I loved him so much I didn’t listen to my intuition. I’d find female clothing that wasn’t mine, condoms disappeared, he restricted his facebook and snapchat so I couldn’t see anything he posted etc. He refused to say in a relationship on social media. Never posted anything about us. He out cameras up to watch me at home but unplugged them when I was gone and make me to set them back up every single time.

I relapsed and used substances (1 in particular) 3 times in the beginning, would drink and use cocaine like once a week then show up at his place before we lived together and he’d make me feel safe and comfortable. We would have sex a lot during these times. I found d out he told his friends and family I was an out of control drug addict behind my back. He made sure every time we fought they all knew his side of the story and convinced everyone I was crazy cling-on and a monster.

He made sure to take the car keys away at least once every 2 weeks or so, sometimes more, he was letting me use his old car as he bought a new one. Claiming he bought it cuz he wanted me to be safe at work then never let me drive it. He would drink after work on the night shift every weekday, and I had a day job where I made my own schedule, luckily, because he wouldn’t allow me to go to work when he showed up wasted in the morning before I got up. So many times he’d yell at me and rip the covers off me when he got home at 4-5am whatever and insist we had to have a talk right then about something he was upset about. We’d yell for a while until eventually I’d get him to lay down where he’d play loud movies or watch tiktok on his phone so I couldn’t sleep anyways.

We shared locations on Snapchat and if he didn’t want me to go somewhere he threatened me with cops and taking the car completely away so I had to go straight home. A couple times I went to friends houses after work anyways and he’d take the keys so again I couldn’t work, he always ended up giving them back after a couple days of verbal abuse. He would go hang with his friends for hours though and I could never come because they all didn’t like me since he ruined my chances of getting along before I even got them.

A couple months ago he disappeared for about 8 hours and came home with a story about taking a dab and getting sick saying his friend called an ambulance but had nothing but his word for me and I had to believe it. Then I didn’t answer the phone for 13mins one time and got yelled at after he got off and all the next day about how I was cheating.

He would tell me he got off work at 4-5-6am and every Friday at 6am cuz company policy. I realized later this was a lie, he lied about nearly everything, and he even admitted he would lie but insist that cheating was the one thing he would never do or lie about and his word is all I should need as proof… I asked him when he got off again after I finally moved out and he said he always got off around 3. He would forget his lies a lot and tell on himself.

I’d screenshot his location on snap in parking lots, random streets, parks he always said it was wrong. I got into his email and saw he was on websites where women post photos with ads giving out free sexual favors/sex and will meet and fuck without any attachments, listing all they were down for (anal, blow jobs) fucking sluts, in a park or the car etc. I confronted him about his location and he said he wasn’t there altogether or he was smoking a joint alone when he was at a park for an hour, that he needed space to think type shit. He also said he was in there just to look at the pictures. Like what in the fuck. I knew this was a lie because porn duh and who goes on local free sec sites for photos of soggy sluts?

More than once we’d be at the gas station he worked at and he’d be talking to some bitch, deny it, even told me once he doesn’t ask for numbers girls just ask him. I walked up at the same time as a fat girl with multiple kids did once and she said hi to him all gross like and he wouldn’t acknowledge me in front of her. Come to find out recently, through an acquaintance of mine who knew my ex from the gas station told me he saw me pick him up all the time in my jeep but I had a Subaru at the time and that fat mom drove a jeep she was picking him up. Once he and I decided to have sex in a park, which he insisted he’d never done, I thought we’d lay a blanket out in the grass late at night… I could tell right away he wasnt interested in that cuz he stood out the back door while I lay in the backseat pulling his shirt up and pants down as he did a million times before with this awful look on his face, filthy.

Progressively he got “drunk mean” more and more, with or without alcohol, to seemingly without a reason at all. Things got physical way beyond him dragging me by my feet out of bed or breaking down doors when I tried to get away from him. He wouldn’t let me leave the house until he’d had enough of hurting my feelings with yelling and gaslighting me then he’d take my house key and push me out the door and lock it. The injuries included bruised ribs from being so hard into a recliner that I broke it, 2 gashes in my head from being slammed into a closet hood by my hair, burned with a cigarette, kicked and punched leaving bruises, punched in the head, hit in the face with a hard plastic reusable cup which broke on impact, being thrown in the ground a lot, choked, pushed, held down on the ground by his foot on my chest, arms and hands grabbed, doors broken with me against them, and being blamed for a broken window resulting in him punching me so hard my nose was broken. I got some hits in, split his lip twice and pulled his hair. I broke 2 of his dab rigs and got him to let me not pay him back for about $400 in loans. $300 of which he almost stole the clothes right off my back and my dogs food for, saying he’d give the stuff back when I paid him. I convinced him to give it back and he told me he loved me and hugged and kissed me etc. Gross.

He would blame me for every single thing that went wrong even if I had nothing to do with it somehow he would make up a twisted derivative as to how I was responsible. Towards the end of it all he was otp with some slut and we fought, he left, I smashed my own tv and mirror so he couldn’t have them, flooded the apartment and busted a hole in the wall. He was fucking his best friends girlfriend that night while bestie was on a cruise and ended up getting a dui with her in the car which, even tho I left to Belleville hours prior was somehow my fault.

I would cry every single day at least 2-3 times. Cry myself asleep, cry myself awake…

At the end I had moved in with a friend and had been staying there about 6 weeks. Only one of which he was decent and acted as if he wanted to work it out. At the 6 week-ish mark I got into an argument with the girl I was staying with and he moved me back into the shithole apartment where he wasn’t even staying. He was staying with his mom who is like to add pays for everything he needs and enables him to drink and smoke stupid amounts of weed and be irresponsible with his money. (Also somehow my fault?) We spend one day together when he ditches me for his best friend over a half inch left black n mild then disappears for 6-7 hours claiming to have fallen asleep on the friends couch, when his bed and I were blocks away. He stayed away the whole weekend even tho we made plans to clean and cook together. I got upset and was crying otp when he laughed at me and I heard her for the first time laughing too. He would be in her bedroom and send me videos saying it was his sisters room when there was female shit everywhere and his sister had left to college months ago. He snapped me a photo wearing her sweater blanket, also his “sisters”. He would login to snap at his moms on some device and leave so he could say he was there by his location even when he wasn’t.

The last straw(s) was when he gave me an imbalance in the ph of my lady parts by havibg sex with me using his dirty dick without protection. He also told me if I had just submitted to his will things would’ve been better for me. I called his best friend and asked him how long the cheating had been happening and he took forever to answer (lying). A few mins later my ex insisted he couldn’t take me to the lady doctor anymore and that I was cheating with multiple people. I assume he couldn’t figure out a lie to tell his new whore and his bestie called him out after our little talk. I then blocked him on Snapchat and on my phone and Facebook. Now I just am praying I never see or hear from him again and that I can be strong enough to stay away from him. I loved him so much, he took advantage of my loyalty and good heart and broke me mentally, physically, financially, emotionally and nearly made me commit suicide more than once near the end. He isolated me and slandered me, cheated on me and stole my nude photos and videos, my heart and my body. Trust, respect, tolerance and patience will forever have to be earned from me by others. The thought of intimacy with anyone makes me sick to my stomach and even meet bc new friends makes me want to jump out a window. Fuck him forever.