#so curious who’s house this is because the decorations are… a choice

[petrovna-zamo]

Dancing Queen

[cybrthrillz]

genuinely curious, where do the violent aspects of wallter come from? i keep thinking abt that tag you added to a rb that was something along the lines of "i hate when people characterize him as a calm laid back guy. are we even looking at the same character" (paraphrasing cuz i have poor memory)

/not forced to answer btw ^_^ also sorry if this came across as rude

you didnt come across as rude at all, no worries! this is a very good question!

it basically all comes down to implications, and forming interpretations based on reality while taking several factors into account. for example, wallter always acts extremely formal and polite, which is a facade that clearly breaks when he talks to people he genuinely doesnt like, like unpleasant and mark, where hes suddenly incredibly rude while still keeping that same formal tone that never wavers. i know people who act like that in real life and they are fake ass bitches who would say the most hurtful words anyone has ever said to you with a kind smile on their face.

plus yeucc has said that wallter is canonically a really selfish and self absorbed person. plus there is dialogue between wallter and drretro (my favorite) where wallter asks drretro about how her career as a doctor is and she replied "the best part is being able to help so many people 😸" and wallter just went "...well, the money is nice as well!"

he is 100% a fake ass bitch

another reason why i interpret him as such a deeply violent person though is mainly because i dont think he feels much empathy for others nor himself, and has a really fucked up worldview.

this is because of the fact that wallter seems to love and care about concrete more than any living person, and he is also completely oblivious or seems to just not care about the changed his body is having, instead seeing it as a positive thing.

like, you can joke all you want about wallter not having anything in his house except for concrete and some wonderbread, but knowing that hes a ceo and HAS MONEY to get a nicer place, that would be horrid in re life. we KNOW this is an active choice of his to live in such inhumane conditions, especially supported by an idle dialogue saying that he's not one for interior decoration.

i can 100% see that realistically extending to his interactions with other people, and having a poor sense of the limits of the human body, when he himself relates more to concrete than any sort of humanity. mixed with the fake ass bitch attitude i talked about earlier, this paints a very ugly picture of a person. you can probably see where im coming from

[iamvegorott]

Ink Month 2024 Day 21

Haunted House - Dantistache

“Be ready for a scare!” A man who wore a tattered black cloak and had his face painted like a skull announced from the rock-shaped podium he stood on as the crowd entered a cave opening decorated to appear like a large mansion. “Just be careful about making deals with devils.” 

“Not like I really have a soul to barter with.” Anti chuckled, walking with Dark and Wilford on either side of him. 

“Isn’t this so much fun?” Wilford chuckled as he looked around, pointing at the attempts of scary decor. “The little chains of bones are just adorable.” 

“They certainly took their time with the details.” Dark flashed a smile, not wanting to ruin Wilford’s happy mood. 

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this.” Anti muttered, holding Dark’s arm when the path in the cave started getting steeper. Wilford and Dark had a rail to hold as they walked, so Anti had to use one of them instead. 

“Wilford was curious and wanted to go,” Dark said with a shrug.

“One of these days, you have to tell him no.”

“You say that as if you didn’t also agree to this. When are you going to tell him no?” 

“I’m not the stern one of the relationship.” 

“Just because I-” 

“It’s our turn!” Wilford took Anti’s hand and pulled him through the doors leading into the haunted attraction. Anti kept his grip on Dark’s arm and dragged him in with them.

“Welcome, welcome!” A man wearing all red with horns on his head greeted the group. “I have a choice for you three to make.” He gestured toward the two sets of curtains. “I hope you’re prepared to make some demonic deals.” 

“I’m already dating one. I make a lot of deals with him.” Anti gestured at Dark with a thumb. He laughed when the performer paused, and his eyes slightly widened with concern. 

“Compromising is not making deals, dove.” Dark dropped the pet name, using a softer, kinder tone, projecting that calmer feeling to get the man to relax. “We’ll go this way.” He flashed a smile to the man before guiding Anti and Wilford through one of the curtains.

“I thought we weren’t going to use our powers today~?” Anti sang his tease.

“I also said we needed to blend in. Humans take calling their partner a demon as a bad thing.” Dark allowed Wilford to walk in front of himself and Anti, making it so he could see everything better. 

“Well, they’re no fun then.” Anti clicked his tongue. 

“Oh, goodness!” Wilford said with a laugh when one of the performers dressed as a zombie jumped out at him. “You got me there, sport.” He continued to laugh as he strolled along. Dark didn’t pay the ‘zombie’ any mind while Anti grinned at him, showing off his sharp teeth.

“Stop that.” Dark softly scolded.

“They’ll think they’re fake.” Anti scoffed. 

“Let’s not test that theory,” Dark said as he watched Wilford lean over a little ledge to see how thick the smoke was, laughing again when a pair of hands popped out and clapped near his face. 

“I’m just entertaining myself.” Anti faked a pout and looked over when hands started clapping toward himself and Dark. “Oh look, finger food~” Dark sighed when the owners of the hands yelped and quickly moved them back into the fog. 

“You’re going to get us kicked out.” 

“I’m not actually going to bite them. Give me some credit.” Anti rolled his eyes as the three entered the next section of the attraction. The lighting was very dim, a hue of purple making it hard to tell what was around them aside from silhouettes, and the glowing paint on the floor was their guide of where to walk. 

“We’re here to let Wilford have some fun. Surely, you can behave for a bit longer.” 

“I have been behaving, thank you very much. I just-” Anti’s sass turned into a yelp when someone appeared from the shadows and screeched behind him. “Holy fuck!” 

“Did you just get scared?” Dark asked with a tease in his voice, feeling the much stronger grip on his arm.

“What!? No! I-I stubbed my toe!” Anti fumbled over his excuse.

“Is Anti scared?” Wilford turned and rejoined the other two. 

“I am not!” Anti huffed with a real pout. 

“It’s okay, sour-apple, I’ll protect you.” Wilford wrapped his arms around Anti in a tight hug. 

“I’m not scared!” Anti tried to squirm free. 

“We’ll keep you safe, dove.” Dark chuckled as he continued walking, Wilford carrying a fully pouting Anti. 

“I will bite next time!” Anti shouted when he heard giggles and laughs from the hidden performers. 

[nogenderbee]

✉ -ˏˋ ℍ𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕪 𝔹𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕧𝕠𝕕𝕜𝕒! ˊˎ

Happy birthday @vodka-glrl ! Woah I swear it's second special for you yayy!! This time Ga ming ^^ Hopefully he was the right choice <3

But fiiiirst... Happy Birthday vodka!! You're really brave person and I know you're trying very hard every day and you're amazing for at least that <3 So hopefully this fic will be like a little sweet in this special day! I really hope you'll like it!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Birthday letter

❝Well hello vodka!

If you're reading this, that means the letter I dropped at your house wasn't so hard to find after all! And trust me, I definitely was worried about that you'll miss it...

But back to our subject... happy birthday to THE one and only, most perfect girl on this world!! You! Life was hard recently so why don't we shut everyone and just relax? I cleared my schedule for today, got some dim sum to go and even found a spot with unforgettable views~ So? What do you say? Wanna spend this year's birthday with me?

If sooo, just come to Qiaoying Village! I'll be probably hanging around there... just find comfortable spot and I'll find you!

- Ga ming ♡❞

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Birthday party

↳ ❝ Lively party ❞

You still had a bit less than half an hour time before guests start coming to your party. Yet a familiar brown eyed boy showed in your doorframe early.

"Hey, hey! Isn't that the birthday girl~?"

Ga ming greeted you quite loudly and immidietly handed you his birthday gift meant for you.

"Wow, thanks! You didn't and to come this early tho, y'know?"

"Well maybe. But I wanted to make sure my gift is the first you open! And help you with setting everything up? Need me to drop by store and get some snacks?"

"No, no... I got everything. Just decorating and setting up the tables..."

"Let me help then! It'll be faster if we both take care of it!"

You knew Ga ming for long enough to know there's no use in arguing about it, since he'll achieve his goals anyway. He can be easy to talk with but not when there's helping his lover on the line! He could never leave you with a task like THAT!

"And after we're done, we can finally sit and relax together before the party of the year!"

↳ ❝ Calm party ❞

This birthday just didn't felt like it was meant to be a lively one... yet you still wanted to celebrate! And who could be better company than your own boyfriend?

Ga ming immidietly agreed on the idea of not telling anyone about today special evening, as it was meant for just you two alone and of course he wanted this day to be special for you as much as possible! He even brough your favorite cake with a little gift~

"So! When are you gonna open it?"

He leaned on the counter as you cut the cake, seemingly too excited to see your reaction to just sit down and stop jumping around like a toddler who ate too much sugar.

"Give me just one second and I will..."

"Oh c'mon! I can cut the cake for you! I know you're curious~"

He was already waiting for you to handle him the knife and when you did, you could see his smile spread. You finally opened the box from him where you found fluffy teddybear, few sweets and... another small box! In which you found ruby necklace~

"Aaand~?"

When you looked up, you noticed how excited he was and that the knife was laying on counter, cake completely untouched. Even tho, you couldn't bring yourself to scold him, especially when he already got you this much.

"It's perfect!! I love it!"

"Seriously?! Ah, I'm so glad! You don't know how worried I was...!"

He quickly hugged you tightly, happy that his idea turned out this nicely. But soon he took a step back to look at you, his smile only spreading adoringly with every passing second.

"C'mon, put it on! Or do you want me to help you? I guess it might be easier if someone put's the necklace on for you..."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

No tags because it's meant for just vodka alone!

[theteaisaddictive]

Holiday baking for Belle and Adam? Your choice for which version!

thanks!! sorry for the wait!

"So talk me through your architectural vision for this house," Belle said.

Her kitchen looked like a small bomb had exploded, leaving icing sugar dusted over almost every surface, clumps of icing already stiffening on the worktop, and a category five hundreds and thousands incident that Adam knew was going to end with them finding pieces in the grout of her tiles for weeks afterwards.

"It's a very traditional structure," he said, looking at the picture on the box again. "I'm thinking, quintessential gingerbread house. Eaves, gables, snowy roof, all the good stuff."

"I like it," Belle said, rolling up her sleeves. "Go ham on the decorations afterwards?"

"It's all about presentation," he agreed. "How's the icing?"

"Sufficiently gloopy!"

"Then let's do this. Who's better with the piping bag, do you think?"

"Whoever's got steadier hands. Learned that the hard way." Belle stuck her hand out, palm facing the floor. "Come on," she said, nudging him with her elbow until he also stuck out his hand.

Adam took the opportunity to covertly stare at her hand. Belle's hands were never still; she was always fiddling with her clothes, tinkering with her electronics, or flicking through a book. She loved to paint her nails, and he had grown used to seeing the flashes of colour as she waved her hands around. This week they were painted a deep wine red, for the season. He remembered, about a month back, when Belle had gotten curious about the size difference between them and pressed their hands together to test it. To his surprise, his hands had dwarfed hers; she was always so animated that she often appeared taller and larger than she actually was.

"Yeah, mine are definitely steadier," Belle said, startling him back to reality. "Alright, that means you're holding up the walls for me."

"I live to serve, milady," he snarked back, half-bowing.

Her cheeks turned pink. Was she blushing? Or was it just because the kitchen was hot? Probably the latter, Adam rationalised. He had long resigned himself to keeping his crush on Belle firmly to himself, no matter how much his friends had tried to encourage him otherwise. He had realised he was in love with her a few months ago, after three years of a friendship which had, admittedly, started on shaky ground. They laughed together about so many things - including each other's dating prospects, when the wine was out and they were both feeling mean. He didn't think he could ever face her laughing at him. Not about this, at least.

Adam picked up two of the walls for the gingerbread house, holding them at careful right angles. With calm precision, Belle piped the icing in the join, cementing the two together; with less precision, the trailing end of the icing caught the cuff of his woollen Christmas jumper, which he had worn 'for the festivities'.

"Oh, shit," Belle said. "Sorry!"

"It's alright," Adam laughed. Once he was sure the walls wouldn't immediately fall down, he lifted his wrist to wipe away the icing with his fingers. He popped them into his mouth, the sweetness pleasantly coating his tongue, and had to restrain himself from laughing again at the look on Belle's face as she stared at his hand. "You don't need to look at me like that, Belle -- I'm not a wild animal, I'm washing my hands before I touch the gingerbread again."

"Hmm?" Belle said. She blinked, coming back to herself with a start. "Oh, I -- I didn't -- obviously I know you'll wash your hands." Her cheeks were still pink. He looked at her, frowning slightly, but she wouldn't meet his eyes.

Adam washed his hands, rolling up his sleeves as a preventative measure once he was done. Something was up with Belle today, that much was certain. He could see her eyes linger on his forearms when he turned back around to the half-constructed gingerbread house. A half-forgotten tweet came to mind -- hadn't it said something about how women liked it when men rolled up their sleeves?

For the first time, Adam dared to hope that maybe his feelings weren't so unrequited after all.

"Halfway through," he said.

"A third, surely?" Belle said, scrunching up her face as she thought. "We'll need to do the roof as well."

"Good point. Let's do this!"

They succeeded in constructing the rest of the base without further damage to Adam's clothing. The roof was a more difficult matter; after two failed attempts, Adam ended up holding a gable in each hand to keep them over the base as Belle carefully piped up the centre. He should have been watching the gingerbread; instead, his eyes were on her face. The little furrow between her eyebrows that only came out when she was concentrating hard on something, and the dent of her teeth biting her lower lip.

He was so absorbed in her, in fact, that he had no time to react when Belle finished icing the roof and triumphantly flicked the piping bag upwards. For the second time, he was covered in dribbles of icing. He could feel it on his chin, and was thankful that he'd shaved this morning.

"Oh, my god," Belle laughed, "I'm so sorry!"

"Why do you keep coating me in icing today, Belle? Am I not sweet enough --?"

He was cut off mid-sentence by Belle grabbing his jaw and wiping off his chin with her fingers. Her fingers on his cheek were cool, her grip so loose that he could've broken it by turning his head. But Adam was rooted to the spot by the look in her eyes. She slipped her icing-covered finger between her lips, and he felt the breath shudder out of him. He had no idea what his face was doing, but he was so close that he could see her pupils dilate in response, brown drowning in black. Her eyes darted over his face, flicking down to his lips before going back up to his eyes.

"Belle?"

Her hand moved, cradling his jaw instead of gripping it. "Can I . . . ?" Her thumb brushed against the corner of his mouth.

Adam leaned over the countertop, bending his head down to meet her lips in a soft kiss. It was a gentle kiss, almost shy; when Adam dared to open his mouth and press his tongue against her lips, he could taste the lingering sweetness of the icing.

They drew apart carefully. For some reason, he was still holding the roof of the gingerbread house, and he let go carefully, so as not to ruin their hard work. "Well?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Belle said, and for a moment his heart dropped through his stomach and all the way down to the floor. "I could still taste the icing. To properly assess whether or not you're sweet enough, I think I'd need to kiss you again." Oh, she was bright red this time - definitely blushing.

Adam stepped around the worksurface and placed his hands on her waist, unable and unwilling to stop the massive smile on his face. "I think I can accept those terms," he grinned. She wound her free hand into the collar of his jumper, pulling him down into another kiss - this one much more eager than the first.

The best part of an hour passed that way, before they finally remembered the abandoned gingerbread house that still needed decorating.

[sarisinema]

The Killer (2023) vs Le Samourai (1967) and Adorno's The Culture Industry

26.03.24 - Blog Post 6

In a recent interview, Michael Fassbender, who plays the main character in David Fincher's latest film, The Killer (2023) talked about the costume choice for his character: He said they chose the killer's outfits from clothes that can be bought from every airport in every country. He even joked about how Fincher wanted him to look like a German tourist, so they went for a regular European tourist look. A couple minutes later, he mentioned about how Fincher was inspired by Le Samourai, Jean-Pierre Melville's legendary film, starring Alain Delon. Fassbender said, "Fincher wanted him as sharp as Jeff Castello, his moves and his tidiness should be cool as Jeff.'' This was an unfortunate thing to say, in my opinion. The Killer was a flop, it was the worst film in Fincher's career. When you watch The Killer and Le Samourai back-to-back, things get even worse for The Killer. Fassbender is not wrong tho, it is obvious that how Fincher was inspired by Melville and tried to create the same props and styles as Le Samourai's. It is easy to spot the similarities between the two films, both of them are about a cold-blooded hitman, which lives a very lonely and tidy life. The plots are also similar, the routine of these men gets interrupted because of a mistake they made- Castello was seen by a woman on the crime scene, and The Killer, let's call him K, missed the shot. The physical appearance of the actors who played the hitmen are strikingly similar, even the gaze, which is cold as ice, thanks to the big blue eyes of the actors. So, why is Le Samourai still an unforgettable masterpiece, while David Fincher's The Killer is such a pointless and bad movie?

First, let's look at why Le Samourai is not an ordinary hitman-thriller, but an emotional movie that speaks to the soul. Jeff, our protagonist, speaks so rarely in the movie that the director is always telling us something through Jeff's interactions with the people around him (mostly his lack of communication) and the decor of his house. This is one of the most important choices that makes the movie memorable - the director shows us that Jeff is unhappy with his lifestyle, but he can't do anything to change it, yet he is too accepting and mature to whine about it. The people in Jeff's world are inhuman, they are either indifferent to crime or they are the ones who commit it. Jeff has also lost his humanity in this order - he keeps a bird in his house, and the bird keeps fluttering and trying to get out of its cage. Jeff doesn't let the bird out, and he himself can't get out of his order. As a result of what happens to him (a woman sees him in the place where he committed the murder), Jeff runs away. Finally, he is able to break free from his wheel by sacrificing himself. Melville never exaggerates, the streets of Paris, which normally look like something out of a painting in a 60s movie, are shown as dirty and dangerous, and the houses are falling into disrepair. Dialog is sparse and used only where necessary. Violence is almost non-existent.

Fincher's K, on the other hand, starts talking non-stop from the very first scene of the movie; he tells us a lot of useless things about his work ethics and his routine, and the funny thing is that K's life, which is supposed to be "interesting", does not make the audience curious at all. We hear what our character, who doesn't have a very interesting personality anyway, is thinking and doing and we continue to watch the same thing on the screen. This fools the audience and gets quite boring. In addition, K's constant change of countries, luxurious locations, expensive gadgets and fancy weapons are thrown at us in every scene, and Fincher, who does not give us even a second to wonder where and on whom those weapons and gadgets will be used, reduces the element of curiosity in the movie to the finale: Will K be able to reach the people who attacked his wife? K, as an American, opens all doors, gets everything done with money and violence, and at the end of the movie he returns to his luxurious villa in a tropical climate to be with his wife, whom he left all alone during the hospitalization.

The Killer doesn't even manage to be a badly Americanised copy of Le Samourai. Sure, there are a lot of things that have been Americanised, because everything in our lives is now of the same standard. In Adorno's theory, the culture industry, there was talk about films and how they had caught up with Hollywood clichés and so on. I think Le Samourai and The Killer are the best examples of this cultural change. As the world gets smaller and smaller, so do the emotions and our reactions to them. Like K, every aspect of the film's story and the character's psyche should be very obvious to us, the stupid audience, and we need violence and fancy effects to keep our attention on the film. It is almost hard to watch how a character that has to be written to be taken seriously by the audience (because this film is not a mockery) is an American man who dresses like a tourist and eats hamburgers in Paris. I really did consider the small possibility that this film could be a mockery of the 'hitman' or 'killer' trope, but as a teacher of mine said, 'you should set the mockery to mock something' - so unfortunately Fincher saw his character as his version of Jeff Castello, who is a product of the culture industry. A man loves money, even though he lives inhumanely because of it; shows no remorse, always finds his way, and indifferent from every other successful American in today's capitalist world- Jeff Castello without conscience and dollars. Everywhere he goes, even when he changes continents, is always the same, the food, the living styles, the money- the world of American movies gets smaller and smaller each day just like our world. What a shame!

[xtrablak674]

Never asked for a thing

Noticing that there had been some manicuring of the landscape around the edge of the road that served as a bike, pedestrian and jogging path, I recalled my first Summer Youth Employment job where it seemed I was working under the Parks Department's purview.

We did similar kind of clearings of paths in this area in the Bronx near a roadway that headed towards the Bronx Botanical Gardens. But the early job wasn't on my mind, what was the monies I made that year and what had become of them. I am sure that my grandparents put those funds into the investments that would become my college dowery. The thing that struck me as sort of odd, was I don't recall asking for a penny of it.

This is something you may not know about growing up living below the poverty level, you learn very quickly not to ask because we you know we just don't have it. I learned this lesson in the Shop-Rite watching my younger brothers beg for the sweet sugary cereal that they had probably seen on television. I had grown out of that behavior I had learned that isn't what you do. Mom would get upset and sad and start talking about making ends meat, it would take me a lifetime to learn what she was really saying. I am sure as a single working parent taking care of three tender-aged boys was a task in itself just keeping them fed, clothed and sheltered.

We took hand-me-down toys from the whyte children who lived in some upper floor in our building never complaining, because second-hand toys were better than no toys at all. My home never looked like my friends Robert's house with posters on the walls, shelves, all the latest toys and his own furniture and desk in the room he shared with his older brother in his middle-class home where his mother was a homemaker.

Our room included our mom's six drawer dresser made from compressed wood, with a mirror and three steel-framed beds reclaimed from a closing nunnery. Other than the blue-green paint no other decoration adorned the room. This was something I always noticed about the households of the poor, they seem to alway lack personal expression or future expectation. These spaces always seemed to live in the current moment not knowing if they would actually ever survive, they lacked permanence. I guess that is what being poor is, living in the present, not being able to afford the past and forsaking a future which may have more of the same.

All of this just made me more aware of my behavior in my grandparents home, I don't recall asking for anything, other than wanting my own phone line, which I was told the building couldn't support. I recall being hungry as a teenager and just got a job so I could just feed myself, and have money in my pocket that I earned. I never requested or asked for a Nintendo, a bubble goose coat or those fly new sneakers that everyone else was wearing.

I just accepted what I was given. Understanding when you don't have it makes no sense to even ask. I was now living in an upper middle-class household but I wasn't told this, my grandmother acted as if every penny was going to run away, making sure she never paid full price for anything, whether it be groceries or clothes for her ever growing grand-child.

I guess this is a good thing for future me, since I inherited her estate and have been living off of it for the last four years. I am very curious what kind of child would I have been if I had actually been able to want and need things like any other affluent child in a first world country. I am also curious about what kind of adult this makes me. And how does all of this still influence the kind of choices I make about the things that I purchase and the things that I want to purchase. How does depravity shape our identities and influence our future and present selves?

I can't say I have the answers to these questions, but will continue to ponder them. And feel blessed that I made it though, thank goddess I made it through.

[Photo by Brown Estate].

[jodilin65]

SUNDAY, APRIL 30, 2000 For about 60 seconds I could hear that car stereo somewhere towards the front of the house. It was maybe half a mile to a mile away. Fortunately, this car seems to be just a visitor and not someone who lives there or else I’d hear it every day and not just on weekends. And I don’t hear it every weekend. We better not! We moved out here to live in peace, not listen to other people’s music. When I’m at home, I don’t want to know anyone other than my husband exists, and if I want to hear music, it’ll be mine. I’m sooo glad every weekend that goes by that I’m not in Phoenix! It’s been six months now since we left and It’s just oh so nice to know that right now I don’t have to be stressing like crazy and trying to keep from wishing I could kill those freeloaders. I know it’s got to be a nightmare over there right now unless they simmered down upon my leaving. If they did it’d only be because God never had it in for the H’s as far as noise went, and God could and would have the Mexicans happen to quiet down. Either that or God would have it so that the H’s don’t mind their little antics. It’s such a great feeling knowing no one lives just a few feet away, and knowing I can go to bed anxiety-free and not have to wonder if their fucking stereo’s gonna wake me up. The military might, though, if they start up on the 1st and if I don’t keep my schedule on days, so I’m gonna wait and see what they do. I was stressed out 95% of the time I lived in Phoenix. I was either stressing over what noise they might sic on me or fuming mad at noise they were siccing on me. Always with me, always with them. That’s how it was. Well, no more and never again! Hee, hee!!

Every weekend, I’m as curious as I am grateful. Meaning, I wonder all the time - just how do the H’s feel about living next to a pack of sick Mexicans? Just how do they have the house decorated? Did they recarpet? Repaint? Remodel the kitchen? Put a new floor down in it? And just how do the Mexicans feel about being boxed in by five dogs? Yeah, I know - stupid question. They couldn't care less.

Anyway, we went out today to the Walgreens in Sun Lakes. Of course, we had to drive 10-15 miles below the speed limit some of the time. The last time I was out when we got the mice, we stopped at the Walgreens near there to see if I could find a small super ball for the rats, but they only had big ones. They had the skater Barbie I want, too. That day Tom said there was money for either the mice or the Barbie and to take my pick. Naturally, I picked the mice. Today’s choice was the Barbie, if it was there, or Dairy Queen. Well, we ended up having Dairy Queen as well as a few things from the store, but no balls or Barbies. I figured this one wouldn’t have that Barbie. This one’s harder to come by. I got a couple of pairs of panties since I’m sick of having only three pairs that aren’t too tight. I also got White Musk cologne. He got patches for a rip in his pants. Lastly, this sticky stuff that you can use to hang posters, pictures, and whatever, but it’s crap. I got the cool idea of sticking my Barbies to the wall, but they were too heavy, then the damn shit made a mark on the wall. If there’s anything I don’t like about these walls it’s the papery texture. I like the glossy, slick, smooth walls better which allow you to wipe things off so much easier. Things like spaghetti sauce just get absorbed into this stuff.

Tom fixed the Barbie stand I have. I never set it up right, I guess. He also straightened Colette’s leg. As my shit doll luck would have it, I always thought that she was leaning over a bit too much, making her pose look a bit unnatural, so he straightened one of the legs which was attached at a poor angle, so he could straighten her up a bit and make her look much better.

This is the second weekend to go by without a call from Paula. Maybe she finally did lose her phone.

SATURDAY, APRIL 29, 2000 Tom said that the instant he went out to turn the water on for the flowers, a bee landed on him and he reflexively shooed it away. He’s lucky he wasn’t stung. I can’t wait till we have that Arizona room so we can be outside, but be safe from these desert creatures!

Gophie’s changed her schedule on me. She isn’t showing up till later in the day. Yesterday, she didn’t show herself till 2:30 and she stayed out till close to 4:00.

I’ve rearranged the mice’s cages nicely. The five newcomers are together, while Oreo, Butter Rum and Freddie live together. Freddie’s the equivalent of how Velvet was - fat and lazy. He doesn’t wheel and I’ve never seen him screwing, either. He just eats and sleeps.

Some of my measurements are the same, some are smaller, and some are bigger. My tits are the same, my waist is down half an inch, my hips are up an inch, and my thighs are down an inch. Well, at least I’m still pretty much maintaining, which is all I can do. My weight is 122. It looks like I’m gonna be stuck today which will throw me back up to the usual 124-125. Plus, we plan on doing Dairy Queen tomorrow, which is about a thousand calories right there with the small fries and cheeseburger I get. We’re also gonna check out the Walgreens in Sun Lakes to see if they have small super balls. I know the rats would love one to play with when they’re out.

Rowing on the Bowflex is so fun and so easy that I question its effectiveness. However, Tom says that whenever you do any kind of physical activity, whether it’s fun or not, it’s doing something for you. Anyway, I just throw on the music and it’s a lot like listening to music.

Tom got up at 7:00 this morning, so if we get together today for a boring, predictable, cumless screw, it won’t be till the late afternoon or early evening.

FRIDAY, APRIL 28, 2000 Woke up at 121 pounds today.

I’m getting closer to the end of my story. I’m just about certain I’ll finish it sometime in May.

The air fresheners we use are plug-ins that you insert cartridges in that last about a month. Today Tom got one oil warmer and refill to try. It’s supposed to last twice as long, so I’m trying it out in my office.

THURSDAY, APRIL 27, 2000 I’m so frustrated and pissed right now at God. Is asking for the right to breathe really too much to ask for? Obviously, he thinks so. I’m sick of the constant tight spells and being so short of breath. And when I’m not tight, I’m congested. Why doesn’t he just smother me to death then?! I’m gonna finally break down and have Tom make an appointment for me, but I know it’ll end up being a waste of time and money. If I can find a doctor who’s where they say they are and who’s dependable, that I can rely on to return my phone calls, what can they do for me? Give me medication that won’t help? Or that’ll drive me crazy like that Aerobid did? I want back on the Theo. It seemed to help better than anything else.

I don’t have any say in my reproductive system, I don’t have any say in my breathing, I don’t have any say in my life!

Same goes for my weight, which I’ve finally decided to give up on. I’ll never lose weight or inches, so I’m just gonna move right on to the maintenance status and make sure I never get any bigger than I am now and that my weight never exceeds 125 pounds.

The flowers in front don’t look like they’re doing too well, but the flowers in back might make it. They’re just starting to come up, but nothing much is coming up in front.

I was thrilled to learn from Tom that Vermont’s going to be one of the first states to allow gays to marry. It’s about fucking time! No one should have the right to forbid anyone from marrying anyone. If a person wants to marry their goldfish, for God’s sake, they should be allowed to no matter how off the wall someone else may think it is. They’re not going to call them marriages, though. They’re going to be called civil unions, but they’ll have the same laws marriages do. A couple won’t be able to drop one civil union for another without legally divorcing from the first one just like straights. As Tom said, I wonder how many gays will move to Vermont so they can get married and how many will wait till it becomes legal in their state. I’m not surprised the first state to allow it is in the northeast, but I really thought New York would be the first state. I’ll bet Texas and Arizona will be the last to allow it. These are very conservative, prejudiced states. They didn’t even start acknowledging Martin Luther King Day till the year I came out here in 1992. It’s too bad they’re not a little more prejudiced with the hand-me-outs, though.

Tom and I used the glue gun earlier to glue seams on the plastic bottles the mice use where water was leaking, cuz I may really need these bottles, cuz I got five new mice yesterday! There are two different breeds of fancy mice. There are the shorter-haired ones that have satin-like, shiny fur, then there are the longer-haired ones with fur that’s kind of dull. I prefer short-haired silky mice. I got an all-white one and she’s gorgeous! I got a longer-haired one too, which reminds me a lot of Katie. Like Katie, she’s mostly white but has gray patches instead of brown ones. I got another black and white one and two brown ones that are identical and impossible to tell apart. The brown ones are babies and the others are adults. I listed the brown ones on my pet chart as Brownie and Gizzy, the black and white one is Cow, the Katie-like one is Toughie because of how she was the only one to defend herself against Butter Rum, and White Satin is my white silky mouse. They’re all females, and the lady there said a couple of them looked like they might be pregnant, but I don’t see it. This will be a good test, though. They were definitely in with males and at least some of them should be pregnant, but if they’re not, regardless of whether or not something’s wrong with Freddie or if Butter Rum and Oreo are too old, that’ll enforce my suspicions about the store doing something to sterilize their mice.

They had some all-black ones and I wanted one, but they were all males. We decided to get all females so Freddie and the males wouldn’t fight, but it turned out to be a waste of time, cuz Butter Rum was the one to instigate fights with the newcomers. I was surprised. I thought Oreo might do a little minor bullying at first like she did with Freddie, but Butter Rum was really out for blood on all the mice except for the babies. She bit their tails and just wouldn’t stop picking on them. I never heard of female mice being so territorial and vicious. I separated the bitch and her evil friend Oreo from the rest. If we do end up with babies, I’ll have three groups. Freddie and the male babies, the female babies and the new female adults, and then Oreo and Butter Rum. I may be able to stick some baby females in with Oreo and Butter Rum, though.

This store really has an awesome color variety. The other stores that had fancy mice only had all browns or browns with white markings.

Tom said, true to my vibes, that we’re looking good for getting a new printer in June. In fact, I’m gonna go make up new picture pages for the people back east and see if they “disappear” between now and then.

TUESDAY, APRIL 25, 2000 I decided to go back to bottled water again. Although it was a very subtle difference, there was a difference between the bottled water and the filtered well water, so for now, until we get a good filtering system going, I’ll drink the bottled water.

Smokey’s eyes are both fine now. I think that instead of having something wrong with his eyes, they were just shut cuz he was that young and they hadn’t opened fully yet. He sneezes a lot like Ratsy does. I guess they have allergies.

After doing some research, I’ve concluded that the reason the mice haven’t gotten pregnant could be due to either the store sterilizing them, or them being too old. Today after work, Tom plans to stop at Mary’s to sand Ma’s bathroom door. If she gives him any money for it, we’re gonna get five mice and boost the population that way.

This is the third day in a row that Gophie’s hung out by her hole just outside the front of the house. It seems she appears about an hour after I’ve gotten up and opened the blinds. That’s when I go out and bring her seeds and lettuce. She runs and hides in her hole as soon as I open the door and waits ten minutes or so after I’ve gone back in the house before coming out to eat. She hangs out there from about 10:00-2:00. Same time the iguanas are out and about.

Although I’ve been watching the calories and shitting regularly, I can’t seem to budge under 123 pounds and it’s very doubtful that I ever will. So I live my life 20 pounds overweight. It could be worse. Aren’t most people 50 or 60 pounds overweight?

The renters built a chain-link fence around the front of one or both of the rentals. I can’t tell from here. I guess it’s for the big dog one of them just got, which I can’t believe I haven’t heard regularly. It’s so weird how people use their front yard as their backyard out here. At least they’re confining the dog. Most people around here let their dogs roam loose.

Dan’s still got those trailers sitting wide open. Tom said the more he thought about it, the more he doubted they were to haul trucks away. He thinks he just happened to get a good deal on them and thought they’d be good to have.

I went online to see how many hits I could get on the names I chose for characters in my book, and was amazed at how many hits I got! There were computer people, librarians, tennis players, and people born/married who were coming up with those names. So I did a little name-changing, even though I know it’s not necessary. All I would’ve had to do is what people always seem to do with books and TV shows; put a disclaimer on saying that the book is a work of fiction and any relation to any person living with these names is just a coincidence, blah, blah, blah. Even so, I’d rather try to avoid hits if possible.

MONDAY, APRIL 24, 2000 Another day of waking up at 123 pounds and having no trouble shitting.

Tom and I both worked out earlier (not at the same time, obviously). I’m working out Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and rowing every day.

It’s amazing how much firmer I’ve become. I just wish I looked it. Tom’s still so sure he can keep on eating the way he has and still lose weight and inches by May 19th (the end of the 6th week). Yeah, right. And I can grow purple hair if I eat enough popcorn. He doesn’t eat like a pig, but he still eats more than he should if he wants to lose pounds/inches. You have to diet as well as exercise. Exercise alone won’t do it. Why do you think I’ve cut my calories, I asked him. Cuz I like being hungry?

He still tries to kid me too, by saying that this working out will strengthen his arms and give him stamina so he can get off when we screw. That’s what he said - how many things ago? How many things were supposed to “cure” him since I’ve known him? Most other guys older than him don’t seem to have such a problem. You mean a piece of equipment will get him off, but his wife can’t? I don’t think so! Anyway, he can do what he wants as long as he quits trying to kid me about it.

I really picked the perfect room to be my office. Not just because it’s away from the den where he makes his gross eating sounds when he watches TV, but because there are closets in between our offices. That way, when he’s in his office playing loud games, I can’t hear it in my office and can still concentrate on my writing. If my office was in the guest room, then I could hear his games loud and clear.

I was tight earlier, so I called him at work since I was out of regular coffee and asked if he’d get some, which he did. At least he’s punctual when it comes to things like that. Cleaning dryer vent lint, fixing dolls, and cleaning up trash is a different story.

Shortly after I got up at 9:00 when my alarm went off, I saw Gophie standing by her hole, looking at the house expectantly. I brought her some of the rat/mouse food and some lettuce, too.

I saw iguanas today, but no jackrabbits.

I can’t wait till May 1st. I’m anxious to see if they update Carol Kane’s TV appearances. The guide I found gives all her appearances for April only, and of course, a month is about as far in advance as the TV stations schedule things, anyway. I can’t wait to see her in Office Killer again and this time I’m gonna tape it!

SUNDAY, APRIL 23, 2000 No music or engine-gunning so far this weekend, but lots of animal activity now that it’s mating season. We took pictures with the camera and filmed with the camcorder. We saw quails, roadrunners, and more. We’ve been seeing those iguanas every day, too. The big one’s getting used to us. I took Tom out to see it and he got as close to it as I did when I took its picture, so it’s not too timid. We also saw a pair of adult jackrabbits and they are huge! I thought they were dogs at first. These aren’t cute little rabbits either, but big ugly hares, cuz of the way their back legs get so long, raising them up. They even lose their cottontail as they grow. They’re still really cool to see. I wish we could at least have one snake to get a picture of, too.

Tom came and got me while I was listening to music to show me that Gophie’s back! And this time, she’s a little braver and living in a closer hole. I got to watch her like never before. Her hole’s just at the start of the wash, like ten or so feet away from the house. I’m pretty sure it’s the same Gophie because knowing how timid these animals are, she sure seemed as if she’d had experience with people before. Although she’d run and hide in her hole whenever I’d go out to leave her some food, she’d jump back out as soon as I went back into the house and would sit there eating the food. She did some digging around her hole, too. We’re still not sure if this is a kangaroo rat, a groundhog, or a prairie dog, but from the research we’ve done online, it looks like it may be a prairie dog.

Later…

Woke up today at 123 pounds, but I can’t say I’m excited about it, cuz I know I’ll be back to 124-125 pounds within a few days. Especially since I stop shitting for a day or two when I drop to 122-123 pounds. I can’t lose weight with this irregularity.

To my surprise, we ended up screwing today, but not before he took a shower which I’m sure he relieved himself.

SATURDAY, APRIL 22, 2000 Tom’s watching TV now, making no effort to fix Jade like he said he would months ago. I am so sick of this man saying he’ll do things he either doesn’t do at all or does so long after he said he would. He really disappoints me. Now he’s claiming he wants to wait till it gets really hot, cuz he likes to work when it’s really hot out before he’ll pick up the trash all over the property. He says he’ll dump stuff in nearby areas as I suggested by wheeling shit over in the wheelbarrow. We’ll probably use the land that’s to the right of us. I’m sure there’ll be some new excuse once it does get really hot, though. There always is. Gotta push and push and beg and plead to get him to do things. And how long must we let $250 just sit and go to waste? I wish he’d just fix the damn doll or get rid of it! I’m sure we could find some sucker on eBay that’d buy it for close to what we paid for it, then I could take that money and buy an assembled one like I should’ve to begin with.

Last night I began working on my story again.

Week two of working out and I haven’t lost any weight/inches, just as I predicted. In fact, I’m even bigger and heavier by an inch or two and by a few pounds. I’m building up muscle, but it’s just pushing the fat outward that’s on top of it. I’m not burning any of the fat while I build the muscle. As I’ve known and said for the last two or three years now, I can’t lose weight or inches and I never will, and I’ve got to just accept that and move on. I decided that if I’m gonna be as big as I am, I’m gonna have something to show for these inches. So, I’ve decided to turn these inches into muscle. I’ll still always have the fat overlaying it, but I’m going to just concentrate on building muscle. That’s all I can do, so I’m going to up the weight and cut my reps and work out only three days a week. On my off days, I’ll do rowing. Toning is totally out of the question for me. I can only build.

I’ll still eat reasonably, like I always do, and drink as much water as I can. I’m even going to start drinking filtered well water so we don’t have to keep buying bottled water. I’ll run it through the Brita till we can get a filter on the pipes.

Anyway, I’m just waiting for Tom to get closer towards the end of his day so he can start tiring down so he can have an easier time keeping himself from cumming. I am not looking forward to another boring, predictable bed session!

I’m beginning to suspect that the store we bought our mice from does something to sterilize them, although God only knows what. I know we put out the infertility vibes really well, but the odds of getting three sterile mice seem very unlikely. And I always did think it was strange that none of the three mice I had gotten were pregnant when they were mixed in with males. Then we get this male and still, they don’t get pregnant, even if there are only two of them now. I really think the store does something to sterilize them to up their sales. If you can’t buy one female and one male to breed with, then they know you have to come back and buy more and more if you want quantity. So, in order to have 15 mice, if that’s what you want, you have to buy 15 mice.

Later…

We didn’t screw. He just couldn’t get in the mood. He had to get up and look out the window in the middle of my warming him up by hand cuz he was “curious” about a motor we heard cruising by. He offered to go down on me, and I was sort of horny, but nah. I’d rather just quickly take care of myself and get it over with.

The Others is back to having new shows running, so who knows how many we missed these last few weeks, or why they started reruns if they had new shows. We’re going to watch it together when it goes on in an hour.

THURSDAY, APRIL 20, 2000 Although I flipped my schedule enough to return to the Melatonin two nights ago, I woke up extra early this morning. I fell asleep around midnight and awoke at 5:00 needing to pee. I couldn’t go back to sleep, but I laid there till around 9:00 and even dozed off at times.

Dan made his departure loud and clear when leaving at 7:30. He just had to gun that engine a few times before leaving. He couldn’t just leave. The little fuck did a little afternoon engine-gunning yesterday and the day before too, but amazingly, it was only for a few minutes. When’s this fuck gonna split? In June? The trailers are still there too, seemingly untouched. With my shit luck, this cock will decide to stay here year-round.

It shocks me to say this, and probably always will, but I was the one who cracked my computer problem yesterday. The reason I couldn’t use the word processor I normally use (I’m using it again, though) was because my mouse pointer would lock up. It was a major breakthrough when I discovered that I could trick it by moving the mouse to the sides of the toolbar and not across it. Tom thought it was within the toolbar at first, but then he realized it was the mouse. I guess I had a corrupt file and it caused the mouse to fail, so he turned off the wheel motion and the double clicker, so now I’m using just a basic mouse. Just in case something happens where I can never use my word processor again, or open any of its documents elsewhere, I printed out important stuff; journal stuff, my story, pet and doll charts, grocery lists, phone numbers, etc.

Later…

OK, I’m going to finish updating with my new keyboard. Yeah, the breakage around here has been unfuckingbelievable! So far, 90% of what I’ve predicted would occur during the first few months in the house has been accurate. Tom’s not going to cum this month like I said I felt he would when he last came last November or December because I told him about it. So, he’s got to prove me wrong, of course. Fine with me. As long as he’s happy. Anyway, knowing a lot of things are going to be breaking takes some of the surprise out of it, but not the frustration. It still pisses me the fuck off. No one’s stuff breaks like ours. Not even those who have ten times the amount of stuff we do. My stereo stopped playing CDs, one of the sound machines broke, one of my staplers broke, my keyboard acted up (Tom gave me a different one which I’ll have to get used to), and I know there’s more. Of course, both computers are still having problems, although mine’s certainly improved since I made the mouse discovery. I need a new mouse. I need/want a lot of things and I realize we’re never going to truly get ahead in life, so to speak, if we don’t find out what’s cursing us and a way to free ourselves of it. I mean, we can move and have a nice house, but how much can we really do/have with this curse hanging over us? I have a zillion questions which only lead to more questions - why does this thing, or things, hate us so much? Where is it? What is it? How, if possible, can we get rid of it? We’re going to have to do some curse research.

I’ve certainly become cursed with the weight since quitting smoking. I just cannot lose weight/inches. I had silly hopes of being able to eat 1500-2000 calories a day as long as I worked out, but nope. I’ve gained weight. Some of it may be premenstrual water retention, but still, I should be at least a few pounds lighter and an inch or two smaller by now and I’m not. The only difference I feel, although I suppose it’s better than nothing, is firmer overall. I really am going to have to have just 1000 calories a day which is like total starvation for me. To go one day with just 1000 calories is hell on me, let alone weeks. But anyway, this doctor that’s associated with Bowflex is guaranteeing that if I do just 10 exercises a week, 3 times a week, drink lots of water, and don’t exceed 1000 calories per day, I can lose about 16 pounds in just 6 weeks. It gets even harder to believe: he also says that once I get my weight stabilized to an ideal weight, I can drop to working out just 2 times a week and can go up to 1600-2400 calories a day. Yeah, right! But even so, I’m curious to give it a try and see just how full of shit this cock really is, although I’m going to do nearly 20 exercises for a more complete workout. I’ll work out on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I’m currently 125 pounds and my measurements are as follows: Chest-37, Waist-30, Hips-37, Thighs-22.

For the sake of my crotch and the soreness it gets when more than two weeks go by before we screw, I gave Tom an ultimatum. I told him that I must do it at least once every two weeks or he’ll never touch me again. We don’t have to do it daily, a few times a week, or weekly, but we can’t let more than a couple of weeks go by. Nonetheless, the sex we had two days ago wasn’t as painful as I thought it’d be, and he had no problem getting hard. Of course, those times he did, he was normal, because if you can’t cum, you shouldn’t be able to get hard in the first place.

Tom ran into Dan today at Circle K. He pulled in to use the gas pump near him and asked how we like it here. He should’ve asked when he was leaving, but he didn’t want to be too chatty with the dude and give him the wrong idea. Meaning that we don’t want him to think he can just drop by for coffee whenever he feels like it or anything like that.

Again I saw those big lizards that live in front under the bush I thought Gophie lived in. If she did live there, she doesn’t live there now. It looks like there’s one adult and two babies that live there. The adult is about 1½ feet long with a dotted body and striped tail. Today I finally got a good picture of it too, which Tom was quite impressed with. He looked it up online and found a picture of it. It’s not a Gila monster. It’s a desert iguana. It’s not venomous, either. Gila monsters are supposed to be as poisonous as rattlesnakes.

The baby rats are growing day by day, but they’re still too small for the regular rat cage. I let Ratsy visit with them at times. Ratsy and Fudgie have really hit it off and they love to play together.

As for the mice, I’m just not meant to breed them. What? You mean first we can’t breed ourselves and now we can’t breed mice? Well, I don’t know what’s wrong here, but these mice would’ve had to have babies by now if they were going to. Freddie’s definitely a male, Oreo and Butter Rum are definitely females, they’re said to be in heat every other day and carry for only 3 weeks, so I guess it’s just not meant to be.

Now that I’m back on a schedule, I have mixed emotions about it. It’s different when you don’t absolutely have to be on a schedule and when you don’t have to check out of a hotel at a set time. I want to be on a schedule cuz it’d match Tom’s, and so I can sleep at night with less risk of being woken up, but I don’t want the pressure, the time frames, and the alarm clocks to deal with, either. For now, I’m just taking it day by day till my appointment rolls around and till they start booming in the sky again.

Yesterday and the day before, an out-of-area call came in the afternoon that I answered because I thought it could be Tom. On the first call, I heard nothing. On the second call, someone was definitely there, although I never heard any voices, breathing, or anything. Just someone trying to hang up, but being the little phone expert I am, I know you can’t just hang up on someone you call if they don’t hang up. You have to hold your receiver down for about half a minute before you can lose the person you called. Tom said it was probably a wrong number and that people often don’t speak when they realize they’ve dialed the wrong number. I think it was pesky sales, but why the silent treatment - who knows?

Two days ago a guy with a clipboard came to the door in regular clothes, saying something about working for or with the phone company. Then he read off the date we had our pole put in and wanted to know the address for records because of owing money or something like that. Tom asked if he was casing, asking weird questions like how many people live here, etc., but nope. Just the address. If he had asked that, I would’ve told him to mind his own fucking business and to get off our property before I made him wish he’d never set foot on it in the first place. He was probably legit, but for all I know, it could’ve been some bullshit plot set up by the cops for something someone did to the blacks or Mexicans that they were going to try pinning on me. I can’t be the only enemy those people had/have. Those kinds of people attract tons of enemies, and it’d be convenient for them to point a finger at me, say if their house was torched and they didn’t know who did it, cuz they made sure to get me on record for “biasing” them. Even Mr. Bias couldn’t see that I was the victim, but I don’t think he wanted to. Hey, what do you expect? He wasn’t white, either.

I have a new crush. Her name’s Carol Kane and she’s an actress. Surprisingly, she’s another blue-eyed blond. All I know about her is that she’s going to be 48, she’s 5‘2”, was born in Cleveland and moved to New York at age 10. I haven’t found anything saying she’s ever been married or had kids. She used to smoke, and is rather obscure and unpopular, even though she’s made over 70 TV appearances between series and movies. I never heard of her myself till I saw her recently in a movie called Office Killer. It was actually in a series from the 70s that I noticed she looked great in, but she didn’t look that great in Office Killer because her role was that of a mousy, conservative geek. She looked better at the end of the movie when she let her hair down and took off her glasses.

TUESDAY, APRIL 18, 2000 We’re still having major computer problems with both computers. He says he’s stopping by Mary’s today to pick up the Microsoft Word disk to reload it. He says that might fix the problem, but somehow I doubt this and am on the verge of doing everything by hand. I need a system I can depend on and my hand may be the only solution. I don’t like the idea of finishing my story or doing journals and letters by hand, but if that’s what I have to do, that’s what I have to do. I can’t play these hit-or-miss games, not knowing whether or not I can access this or that, etc. Right now I’m going to go print out odds and ends, in case they’re forever lost and can’t be opened in other programs. Something’s definitely cursing both our computers, that’s for sure!

SATURDAY, APRIL 15, 2000 This morning I woke up at 5:00 and we left an hour later after setting the bombs off. I ended up doing a ton of work today between prepping to bomb and cleaning up afterward, but 80% of the work was cuz of the animals.

We put the animals in the backseat and drove leisurely to Circle K where I got a brownie and coffee. He got soda and cakes. We also got a couple of scratch tickets and one won $3.

It wasn’t too hot like I worried it would be. It was actually pretty cool at first and I had to wear a sweater over my tank top. There was a nice breeze keeping it from feeling too hot once it got later. We didn’t go into the house till almost 10:00 and it didn’t smell at all, although we did what they said to do, and we opened windows to ventilate the place for a while. It was the perfect day for it too, cuz it wasn’t too calm, nor was it windy. Last night was a whole different story. It was wicked windy. Our power even flickered in and out a few times.

Tom still hasn’t gotten Microsoft Word up and running, but he said Mary has it still (that’s who it got it from) and we can reinstall it if we have to. For now, I switched from using WordPad to NotePad, because I was worried that I couldn’t copy and paste from Word Pad like I know I can from NotePad. This program’s very plain and simple. There are no colors and no spell check, but if you hit F5 it puts the time/date in for you. I like that. Microsoft Word does it too, but not with a hotkey.

Mary called earlier with some computer problems.

Paula called yesterday and I decided to answer since it had been a while. I wish she’d hurry up and lose that damn phone for a good 6 months sometimes! Nonetheless, we had a nice chat.

Oreo, one of my mice, was so cute earlier the way she was setting up the nest. I shred paper for them every time I change their cages. Anyway, she dragged strips of paper, one by one, from cage to cage and it was so cute. She doesn’t always set up nests in the same areas.

We got to see some interesting animals around here. I got to see my first jackrabbit today on our way back from the store, along with some quails. Yesterday, I saw my first Gila monster. Two of them. At least, we think that’s what they were. At first I thought it was Gohpie, who I haven’t seen, then I thought it was a small snake till I realized it was a big lizard. It was about two feet long. I took some pictures of it, but they didn’t come out too well. Tom said they’re as poisonous as rattlesnakes.

Tom dug up an ugly shrub-like thing that was by Scuttle’s grave that looked like a giant spider, which was nice of him to do.

A couple of weeks or so ago, our property began to become littered with little green clumps of what I thought were weeds, but today I noticed little flowers sprouting here and there. He says desert flowers bloom at this time of year. That ought to be really pretty.

We got the flowers planted and I started to get pissed off at God and society for a minute there while we were working. It wasn’t even 9:00 AM, yet someone, somewhere towards the front of the house, was blaring a car stereo. Again, it sounded nothing like having one of those blaring a few feet away from you, but still, I was like - you mean I still have to listen to this shit?! In the middle of a 10-acre ranch? What’s this world coming to? Before long, there’ll be no place to go to live in peace. There’ll be loud music everywhere that can be heard for miles and miles. What is it with these people I’m so embarrassed and ashamed to call my fellow humans? Why do they feel such a need to put on a show and be noticed? What makes these people so desperate for attention? So desperate to stand out and be heard? Anyway, the amazing part was that it only lasted a few minutes, not a few hours.

THURSDAY, APRIL 13, 2000 And today I’m 123 pounds. Yes, I can really feel the difference and even see it a little, too.

Yesterday was a great day. As soon as Tom got in, we headed for the pet store and found two cute rats with beautiful fur/colors! Not without getting pissed and shit on, though. Their definition of fancy rats is different. They consider fancy rats to be hairless rats (yuck) and consider what we know to be fancy rats as pet rats. They were the usual price - $7. I got a brown one that I named Fudgie that’s about the size Scuttles was when I got him, and an even smaller rat, the smallest one I’ve ever had that looks like a gigantic mouse, that I named Smoky. His fur is a gray smoky mist color. It looks really cool. He has a bad eye, though. I guess he may have gotten bit on one eye because of the way he squints. But he sometimes squints with the other eye too, so who knows what the deal is?

Fudgie’s not as dark as Scuttles was. I think he’s even lighter than Vanilla Belly was, too.

There was this really brave and curious lady rat I would’ve gotten if she weren’t a lady, even though her markings were similar to Ratsy’s. She bit Tom three different times, but not in a vicious way. She was just trying to get him to pay attention to her while he was trying to get one of the rats out. The young girl working there was afraid of getting bit.

I took some cute pictures. Naturally, they’re in the tank together since they’re too little for the other cage. They could easily slip through the bars. I brought Ratsy to visit them for a few minutes. God, is Ratsy huge compared to these guys! And to think that these rats will someday be bigger than Ratsy is hard to believe.

Anyway, Fudgie seemed to be more timid than Smoky at first, but then he became more curious about me and what’s outside his cage than Smoky was. All Smoky wanted to do was eat, sleep and clean himself. He didn’t seem the least bit interested in what was going on around him. He was so cute and funny when he fell into the water bowl. His back feet slipped off the rim, so he took a nose-dive into the water. It sure did startle him and he jumped out lightning fast. Fudgie slipped in too, but with his back feet, not with his face.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 12, 2000 The sleeping less than 8 hours caught up with me and I slept 9 hours last night and didn’t get up till 4:00 AM. My schedule has just about flipped. I want to start getting up at 9:00 regularly. That’ll give me enough time to be available to do things and go places, and I can also beat the boomers once they start booming by again. It’s been a month now since I’ve heard regularly from them.

Again, I can’t stress how great the Bowflex is. It’s even helped curb the lower back pain I’ve been having, and talk about increased energy! Between my working out and all the housecleaning I do, no one can say I’m not active enough. My workout routine consists of about 50 exercises and lasts an hour and 15 minutes. As for housecleaning - I’ve done more cleaning in the few months we’ve been in this house than I have in the 6 years in the Phoenix house.

I’m saving this stuff quite often. Like every paragraph. My whole computer is hexed right now. Tom said it was just my word processor, but now other programs are being a problem and hanging up on me.

Remember how I said I had a feeling something didn’t want me printing out the pictures for Tammy, Doe and Art? Well, now there’s no doubt in my mind about that. All the pictures I grouped for them are gone, but everything else is still intact. If I’m getting all this shit for just planning on sending these pictures, what will I get if I actually do send them? These people just aren’t worth finding that out, so I’ll white out their names/addresses and send stuff to Paula when I get the chance. I don’t need to send them shit anyway. These are people I don’t like and don’t intend to reunite with in 10 years like Larry did because I’m not interested in their money.

I can’t wait for Tom to get home from work, cuz today’s the day we’re going rat hunting! I was just too tired yesterday, but today, I look forward to getting out even if I don’t find any good rats. They did, after all, have a shitty selection the last time we were in the store getting Freddie.

Yesterday I was up a pound at 125, but today I’m down to 124. Even if I could have the measurements I had when I was 100 pounds, I’d never weigh 100 pounds because the muscle I’m building is going to be heavier. I don’t think I’ll be able to get my weight much lower than 120. Maybe 115, but that’s pushing it. I also don’t think I can have my old measurements back either, but if I can get somewhere in between where I am now and where I was then - great.

TUESDAY, APRIL 11, 2000 I’m typing this in a thing called Word Pad because there’s a corrupt file within the word processor, Microsoft Word that I normally use. I can’t use the thing because I can’t access drop-down menus or close windows. I even lose my mouse pointer. Tom’s going to work on it tonight. Once it’s fixed, I’ll cut and paste whatever I type here over there.

This Bowflex thing is the best thing I ever had, not to mention the most effective. With the floor work, I’d get so breathless, but with this, it’s more effective and you don’t get so out of breath. Already, I can feel the difference. I feel firmer all over. Not just in a few select areas. I still have a lot of fat to lose and a lot of flab to tone, but I sure feel better. It gives me more energy. For the last three days, I’ve been up around 18 hours and have only slept 5-7 hours. I hope to sleep later tonight because we plan on going rat hunting this week using some of the money he got working on Mary’s computer (he got $80).

Mary also gave us four packets of those beautiful flowers. The marigolds and the sunflowers aren’t too impressive, but the mix of colorful flowers sure is. Since we see out the front windows more often, I plan on putting the colors in the front, and the others in back. We’re going to plant them this weekend. They don’t bloom yearly. They’ll die sometime this summer. I guess that’s why they’re only 69 cents a pack.

Tom’s getting a medallion for an award tomorrow for being the wonderful coach he is at work. Basically, his job is to help people fix their fuck-ups.

Now Paula does have a phone, from what she says. She told me she was losing her phone, but she obviously hasn’t. She said her phone would still be on for a while and to call her. She just doesn’t get it. I mean, doesn’t she remember my story about the long-distance blocks? Anyway, I’ll send her letters and pictures about once a week.

Believe it or not, the mice still haven’t had their babies, but they’ve got to be very close.

Tom set up the old dot matrix the other day so I could print out letters and journal stuff. I still can’t wait to have a new printer that prints in color so I can get these damn pictures off to Tammy, Doe and Art. Instead of getting a printer that has a black cartridge and a color cartridge, I’m going to get one that has a cartridge for each color, so that’ll be one for black, one for pink, one for blue, and one for yellow. No more of this not being able to print bullshit when I’m fully loaded on black, just because my color cartridge dies.

SATURDAY, APRIL 8, 2000 Got up at 9:00. Yeah, my schedule’s climbing around. I can’t wait to get back on days and not have to worry about not being able to be available to go somewhere. And I hate having to go to bed in the bright sunlight, too!

At 10:00, although barely audible, someone was playing music. Again, it was coming from the back of the house, and again I couldn’t see any lights on at Dan’s or the renters. The trailers are still on Dan’s property too, so I guess he hasn’t left yet. Anyway, just like before, the stereo would have to be either outdoors or directly by an open door or window. The weather is nice enough, too. Not too warm or too cool at this time. It’s always possible that Dan could’ve turned off all his lights and opened his windows before blasting the music. That is the classic behavior of someone that lonely. He could even have the speakers in the window facing outward. I doubt he leaves Arizona just because of the heat. I’m sure he can’t stand the loneliness and that’s why he leaves too, to give himself a break from it and to see his family. It’s hard to have that many friends way out here, so any friends he may have are probably in Indiana and I still can’t figure out why he even bothers living out here. Anyway, we’ve never gone more than 4-6 weeks without hearing music, so once he does finally leave, that’ll be a good test as to whether or not the music was his, cuz you figure he’s got to be gone at least three months.

We’re starting to find at least one spider a day in the house. Thank God this house isn’t as loosely sealed up as Phoenix was or else we’d have a dozen a day. We’re gonna bomb in a couple of weeks or so when it’s hot to stay and when all the insects of the year have been born. That way, we won’t have to worry about three months. They’re probably coming in when we’re going in or out, and they could slip by us easily, cuz these spiders we’re seeing are super-fast.

We talked about getting one or two rats sometime within the next two or three weeks. I know Ratsy will be glad when we do. He’s obviously lonely and bummed out and he was never an explorer like Scuttles was.

Now for the best news since losing my beloved Scuttles - the Bowflex came yesterday!!! Was it missing a piece for coming when it did without us having to lead the UPS driver in? Of course. But fortunately, it was a useless piece; a rubber cap-like cover you put at the end of one of the bars to the leg extension piece. No big deal. Tom put it together while I slept and he said it took him two hours to do it.

Anyway, I love it and already I can’t imagine ever living without it! You can only do so much floor exercise, and treadmills and bikes are close to useless, so what was I to do? Go take walks in the heat with the snakes? You really need resistance! Resistance you can’t get on a floor, a bike or a treadmill. Pumping iron is the key.

It’s amazing how compact it is. It’s only about six feet tall and eight feet long. Each side has five power rods which are the weights. There’s a five, two tens, a thirty, and a fifty. Tom was smart by not bothering to get this pulldown bar you can also get, cuz it would’ve been a complete waste. You can do those same exercises with the cables and pulleys you use to do the bulk of the workout. We’ll only be using the leg extension piece for about one exercise. Everything else can be done with the cables and power rods. You attach the cable to whatever power rods you want to use. The rower is a seat that you pull a pin out on so it moves up and down the track it’s on while you keep your feet on the bar in front of you. I usually row with the 30-pound weights as my warm-up and cool-down, but to do most of the exercises I only use 10-15 pounds because I want to tone and not build. There’s a bench you can use too, either flat or inclined.

I went through and organized the exercises when I was making my own fitness program. Instead of taking the bench on or off every other exercise, I’m doing them in groups. First I’ll do the ones without the bench, then with it flat, then with it inclined, etc.

The only thing I don’t get, and that’s pretty contradictory, is how they say there is no such thing as “spot reduction” when it comes to exercising the backs of the thighs, and not to do the inner thigh exercise if you think it’ll burn fat and make them smaller, cuz all it’ll do is make them stronger. So what they’re saying is that I’ll build muscle there, but will keep the fat and the inches, too? Isn’t that impossible? I thought the more you toned up, the more the muscle you built ate the fat around it.

Anyway, my starting weight is 124 pounds, although I still don’t expect this thing to make such grand changes for me. I mean, that’s what I thought about quitting smoking, and look how wrong I was! Although I am an hourglass, I’m a pretty blown-up one. My tits are 37, my waist is 29, my hips are 38, and my thighs are 22½. Ideally, I’d like to have my tits be 34, my waist 24, my hips 34, and my thighs 18, but I know this is just a dream.

I’m not going to overwhelm myself with having to do the math. They talk about counting heartbeats, measuring skin folds with a caliper to measure fat loss, counting calories, etc., but I’m just going to use common sense. I’m going to keep on eating as sensibly as I always try to do anyway, and do what exercises I feel comfortable doing without straining myself. I want to work out so I feel the muscle working, but not so I feel it an hour after I’ve done the exercise.

THURSDAY, APRIL 6, 2000 I’m pretty miserable right now. Scuttles is definitely dying. I can’t find any tumors on him and he’s definitely not dying of old age, so my guess is that he caught Tom’s cold. Anyway, I’ve been crying on and off and am not in the mood to really write much now, so I’ll be back another time.

Later…

It is with much sadness that I begin this entry, for I have lost my sweet little friend. I’ll miss my dear Scuttles. He was so cute, smart, and fun to play with. He really loved me as much as I loved him and looked forward to seeing me as I did him. And poor Ratsy, who has to live all alone now. Rats don’t like living alone. Ratsy doesn’t like to come out and explore nearly as much as Scuttles did, but when he does - boy is he a hyper one! Maybe that’s why he doesn’t last as long when he’s out. Scuttles was much calmer than this little guy. Why is it that all my rats (with the exception of Bear) have died so soon, yet Ratsy, the oldest, lives on and on? Tom thinks it’s because all the others were bigger than Ratsy, and that the larger you breed an animal to be, the more you cut their lifespan.

And where does our mean, insensitive, unfair, cruel, heartless, ruthless God fit into all this? Only he knows. I’m angry with him, that’s for sure. He didn’t have to let Scuttles die so young, so soon. I only had him for five months. And I still don’t know what killed him, either. I didn’t see any tumors, and he certainly wasn’t old, although he looked and acted it during these last two days. He was weak, he wouldn’t eat and lost weight, and his brown fur started graying in the back near his tail. Tom doesn’t think he caught his cold, or else he’d have given it to Ratsy and Ratsy would be sick and dying, too. He reminded me that it could be a blood disease or other things just like people get. Maybe something went wrong with his kidneys or liver.

The last couple of days, all he did was lay around. He was very weak and appeared to have difficulty breathing. I couldn’t get him to eat, but he did take a few drinks here and there. Amazingly, he wanted to come out at times, too. It was like he wanted to see me and explore as much as he could, knowing his time was limited. He didn’t roam around, though, like he usually did. He’d just walk a few feet away from his door and sit there. At one point, I put him by himself in the pig’s old tank because Ratsy wanted to play and I thought it was hard on him with the way he was jumping all over him. However, despite his weakened state, he jumped right out of the tank, wanting to go home and be with Ratsy, even though Ratsy could get quite rambunctious.

It’s scary how fast one can die. Just three days ago he was as healthy as could be, so full of life and energy. It scares the shit out of me when I think of the possibility of losing Tom before I die between the ages of 61 and 63 like I’ve sensed I would for a few years now. Whether or not he died slowly or suddenly, I could not live without him and I would not live without him. Not even if I had all the money in the world and could buy anything money could buy.

We were about as close as any pet and owner could be, and I wonder - how long will I grieve for him? How long? I can be concentrating on talking with Tom, reading, singing, writing, etc., and then he pops into my head and I start bawling my eyes out. I think my eyes will always at least sting every time I think of him. Sometimes they just burn with the threat of tears, and other times I lose it completely and I cry and cry and cry. How it hurts to look towards his cage and not see him waiting at the door for me. That hurts the most; knowing he’s not at the door waiting to be let out to run around. To chase strings and bubbles, which is something Ratsy loves to do, too. I guess a rat is a rat. But even so, Scuttles was so special to me. There will never be another Scuttles and I can’t imagine ever bonding with another rat like this, or having another rat take to me as much as he did, although I do intend to get another rat as soon as I can. At least for Ratsy’s sake. Sorry guinea pigs. You’re cute, cuddly, and you sound neat, but you’re not my favorite rodent anymore. More like number three, with mice as number two, and rats as number one.

The day I realized he was dying, which was two days ago, was the hardest emotionally. I cried and cried so much that my eyes swelled shut and my allergies went crazy on me and I woke up every two hours. Up till I was 25 or so, I could just cry when I needed to cry. Now it seems to have a domino effect on me. Crying causes other problems, so I’ve been trying not to dwell on him too much. If I think of him too much, I burst into tears.

Surprisingly, I slept well today. He was gone when I got up at 4:00. Tom, who says he’ll miss him too, buried him in a special spot I picked out. He’s away from the others, but Ratsy will join him next to him one day. He’s just out front across the wash by the big tree.

Meanwhile, both lady mice are definitely pregnant and should have their babies any day now.

TUESDAY, APRIL 4, 2000 I think I might’ve been boomed awake once or twice, but I can’t say for sure. It could’ve been some other sound or a dream, but I was back asleep in less than a second. Today I slept till 3:00. The flipping’s going slow. It’s hard now that I’m not used to this anymore, and I hate it, too! It just isn’t me anymore. I miss the routine of a schedule. I hate trying to stay up, trying to get to bed early enough, trying to beat the clock, hoping I can be available at such and such a time, etc. I also hate going to bed in the bright sunlight, never knowing what sounds may wake me up. I miss going to bed in the dark, with less risk of being woke up.

I’d say Dan’s definitely getting ready to head out of state. He has two trailers that hook to a semi on his property. Tom says he thinks it’s to take some of his truck collection with him, cuz people often want trucks from the southwest cuz their vehicles get damaged by the salty air. He said that’d explain the engine-gunning, too.

So, what’s he gonna do? Buy a handful of shit trucks when he returns and gun those into shape too, for next summer’s trip to Indiana? How many years has he been doing this, I wonder?

Tom’s definitely not lying about having a cold. Although he’s getting better, as he says, you can hear it in his voice and there’s no way he could fake it if he wanted to.

I hope and pray that my worst fears aren’t about to come true. My worst fears pet-wise. Scuttles isn’t acting right. He just seems a little out of it. Quite a coincidence too, seeing how I just had a dream about him dying. I’d be soooo devastated to lose this rat! Never have I loved a pet like I love Scuttles. Maybe he’s OK, though. Maybe he’s just tired. God, I hope that’s all it is! I never want to lose him, although I know I have to someday. Just not so soon, God, please? Not so soon.

MONDAY, APRIL 3, 2000 Never before have I had such a craving for different foods than the usual mashed potatoes, chicken and salad. I want a week off from the same old, same old. I’ll never lose weight anyway, so why not a box of white powdered donuts, some canned peaches, some spaghetti, and some Grape Nuts cereal? Except for the donuts, this isn’t exactly junk food. Just different stuff. I eat healthy foods, don’t exceed 1500 calories a day, and am still fat, so what the hell? Although I’d look best at around 100 pounds, I may be able to drive my weight down to between 115-120 pounds if the fucking Bowflex would ever get here, but that’d be about it. For now, I’m bouncing between 122-124 pounds.

I’ve had allergy attacks on and off throughout the day. There’s just no knowing what’ll trigger them. It’s a real bitch to live with; never knowing when your nose is going to go on the fritz.

Paula left a message saying she was going to lose her phone because she can’t afford it and says she’ll send a letter. Yeah, I knew she’d lose that phone. Also, she’s moving again like she does every 2-3 months.

It’s been a week since I’ve heard from Dan. I’m not sure if he’s left the state yet, but I don’t think he’s gone two weeks, and definitely not three, without engine gunning. So, if I don’t hear from him by the middle of the month, I guess we can assume he’s gone.

I’ll be going to bed early this morning, and it sucks to know that the military will wake me up several times during my sleep. I don’t know, it just seems like it’s time for that. Time for them to be heard a few times during the day.

My computer has a slight flicker to it, which Tom doesn’t know how to fix. I’ll just live with it for now.

There’s not much left to do with my “spring cleaning” I plan to do every few months. The dolls were the most work. The rest is just cleaning the blinds, tops of doors, doorways, cabinets, and pictures. Places I don’t usually hit regularly.

The child desires have remained backed off, thank God. I feel silly having said I’d use a donor if I ever wanted one again. Yeah, right! As if he’d let me? If he interfered with my getting pregnant naturally, he’d interfere with my getting pregnant the invitro way too, to say nothing of the divine interference I’d get.

Even if the choice was mine to make, I doubt I’d choose to have a child. I would’ve in a heartbeat in the past, but times have changed. 99% of the time I’m OK with knowing I’ll never have one. I’d rather be curious than have a kid and wish I didn’t.

I sat and thought of the different things I’ve done and gone through in life, both good and bad, and I can’t imagine ever dancing again, even if I was still thin and transportation wasn’t an issue. I could never let myself be used like that again. That is so wrong and so greedy of those cheap club owners to make the dancers support the bouncers, DJs, and bartenders. The owners are obligated to pay their salaries, not the dancers. If I’m gonna work, it’s going to be for me and my husband and not my coworkers.

Later…

Just as I predicted, our brand-new house is already having things break. Tom says it isn’t broken, but nonetheless, our garbage disposal shouldn’t have hung up like it did. Tom unplugged it before going to bed and will fix it later. What else is he gonna have to fix? The car? The dishwasher? The washer? Dryer? What? God, leave us alone with the breakage for six months! Just six lousy months, will you?!

Freddie bit Tom when he was holding him the other day. I don’t know why. He’s never bitten me. Not yet, anyway.

My schedule’s slowly, but surely flipping. I slept from 7:30 to 4:30, but not without a million interruptions. Not due to the military, but due to a series of weird dreams. In one of them, a couple of boys who might’ve been in their late teens were trying to break into the retreat window. I could hear them talking and see their shadows through the white blinds. I got up out of bed and got dressed, planning to go out the front door and run around to the back and surprise them, but woke up before I could get out of the house.

When the Bowflex isn’t here by Thursday or Friday like it should be, Tom will call to find out what the next problem is. I just hope it isn’t the references. I had to guess Kim’s number and address since I can’t find it, and Paula’s losing her phone. Well, if worse comes to worst, we can use Steven and Dennis as references. They used us, so we’ll use them if we have to.

Dan hasn’t left the state yet. I’m not surprised. I think he’ll leave closer to May. The reason I know this isn’t because of the engine-gunning, but because I could see lights on in his place earlier. There’s a chance he could have lights set on a timer to light the place up at night while he’s gone, but I doubt that.

SUNDAY, APRIL 2, 2000 The series The Others is already over. Isn’t that pitiful? They used to make hundreds of shows per series back before the late 80s. What is this with only making 10-20 episodes per series? Everything on TV is repeats, repeats, repeats!

Dusting 33 dolls was a much bigger task than I thought it’d be. It seemed to take me forever, and there’s still more work to be done. Every few months I’m doing the cleaning that I don’t regularly do weekly, like the tops of the kitchen cabinets, and shit like that.

Tom has one of his famous colds. I knew it, too. I just knew it. Last weekend I told him I didn’t want to have sex. Well, normally, he “gets me back,” so to speak. He goes and does the same thing to me and comes up with a reason himself to get out of sex. I swear that just the other day I said to myself - no sex again this weekend, cuz you know he’ll have some kind of excuse to not screw cuz you wouldn’t last weekend. Then sure enough, here he is telling me today he has a cold. Is he lying? I don’t know. Although his timing is quite a coincidence, he is due for a cold, and he says everyone else on his shift is sick. He can’t go more than 3-4 months without a cold, but the good thing about it is that I know I won’t get it. If I caught colds as easily as I used to back east, look how often I’d have to go down with him and get sick, too!

Anyway, I know I should probably be sad about this, but I no longer have any desire for sex with him. If I knew we’d never screw again, I’d be perfectly OK with it. It’s for two reasons. One is that I’m sick of it, cuz it’s not new and exciting anymore. Two is because of all the lies, manipulations, and controlling he’s done in bed all these years to ensure I never got pregnant (with the exception of the 15 times or so that he dared to squirt in the ��right” time frame. Yeah, after I’d convinced him I was psychic and that one of the things I saw was that I’d never have a child). I know I could never get pregnant, and I know I don’t want a kid and its burdens and responsibilities, but I don’t think I could ever forgive him for what he’s done/does in bed. It was/is totally wrong of him, and more so, it’s unnecessary. He need not worry about a baby that cannot be made, and this tells me that it’s more than just fear of pregnancy. It’s his stubbornness and his desire to be in charge of the sex and what happens with it. He wishes I was deprived and unhappy with it. When I used to be, he was amused by it. I know he was. It was obvious. Any idiot could see so no matter how much he’d deny it. Well, I’m pretty much permanently turned off and I don’t think anything can be done to rekindle my desire. We can’t make it new and exciting again, and even if he lost his fears and decided to show me how good I am in bed like he says I am, I still don’t see how my desire would be rekindled. I love the man to death outside of bed and look forward to being with him forever, but he’s old, dead news bed-wise. I’ll take my fantasies over him and his dry dick any day.

Last night was his last night at work. He goes in Monday morning at 6:00 and has to leave here at 5:00 and get up at 4:00. The night shift gave him a “good-bye and good luck” card that they all signed and a cake. He brought me home a piece.

I finally got to start printing again and began printing out pictures for Dureen and Art, but the fucking cartridge was defective. Yeah, I know. I just had to be the one to get the damn defect, too. I did get Dureen and Art’s letter printed out, and the 40 or so pictures that I printed, which are a bit grainy and blurry (the ink leaked) will go to Paula. I’ll enclose a few with each of my regular letters to her. Anyway, I’m beginning to wonder if something up there doesn’t want me printing these letters/pictures to Dureen, Art and Tammy.

I shortened the rat’s cages. I was sick of popping off their shelves, which they’d piss all over, and have their shit and piss go flying onto the walls and carpet, so I shortened their cage and left them with just their tubes. That’s all they really need.

[daviddshiki]

The Adventures of David Dashiki-Stories of an African American Hero - Year of the Black Man , 2024

Where is the Black man's government? Where is his King and kingdom? Where is his president, his country and his ambassadors, his army, his navy, his men of BIG AFFAIRS? - Marcus Garvey

The question better stated is , ' Why do we keep our head in the sand? "We are not represented in the government of America. We want equality. However, might that be better accomplished by placing our sons and daughters in special education classes? I know of no country that has committed its governance to graduates of these classes. I do not speak of the children but the educators and offices of educational instruction who decided it was best for children and the country to overload the special education academies with African American learners. It might be considered an immediate solution. However, it reeks of concentration camps or incarceration. Simply stated, ii is cruel and unusual punishment. Garvey asks'" Where are our kings and kingdoms?" Surely, they are not being produced or discovered in the halls of special education. If they are such magnificent edifices of learning, why then are only one group so strictly assigned to them in such astounding numbers? Black men wake up! Save our children. We need to get our house in order.

In these classes, the expectation is low and the results match these assumptions. If one sees special education all day, you produce special education. results not candidates for specialized high school. In short, a lemon will never produce grapes. Still the number of placements of African American children in these classes remains astounding. shocking. It would appear that the choices or placements are determined by the color of their skin. No one appears curious, puzzled, upset or angry with the segregated flavor of the education offered. Wake up, Black Man ! Our brothers and sisters did not die to tacitly support a camouflaged type of apartheid. Black Man , wake up.! These are our children. What part of discrimination/segregation do we not understand? Why is there not an accounting of these referrals and oversight? We want schools of hope and promise. No one is watching the store. We desire homes that produce readers and independent learners. We want schools that do not fail our children every year for decades and then have the testicles to blame our children. It seems that the system is not concerned with the future of our children. The counselors do not respect us. They should be outraged at what is occurring in our schools. Therefore, we have to demand that respect. We cannot continue to offer up our children as a living sacrifice because we are Black. We are Americans, too. Treat us as you do all other citizens. We, Black Men, demand that.

The Job Fair We recently attended a job fair for educators in the outer counties of New York. We were curious and indeed anxious to observe what offerings were available for applicants in the more affluent school districts. We were as prepared as any teachers to teach anywhere in America. We were trained in both Ivy League and public colleges. Upon entrance to the campus, we were AMAZED by the magnificence of the buildings and grounds. The school designated for the applicants was the equal of any university edifice. Inside the building was a virtual Garden of Eden,. Rooms were spacious, extremely well decorated and beautiful. We walked the halls prior and found the building represented what was to be expected in classrooms for high achievers, an immaculate building, a diverse and rigorous curriculum with choices that resembled what was current in the world. We observed and admired how this school had thought of and acquired whatever was vital and significant for the modern/progressive education of its pupils...The school was in the vicinity of our current schools. However, it was a rich upper -class area which has been recognized as a model school by city and state officials. We continued on our journey through the school. It was fantasy land. Finally, we reached the gymnasium where all applicants were assembled in a line which represented the school district in which they desired placement. We went to every line. To our surprise, not one school in the prestigious districts were there requests for special education teachers. One administrator told us that they don't usually have such requests, very rarely. Why then are our children, Black children assigned to special education in such huge numbers? Are city children, Black children, our children the only candidates for such teaching? In the richest districts, there are no jobs for special education teachers. We were in shock. Our schools are overloaded with education of that special type and other wealthy, affluent and progressive hardly employ such teachers at all. Surely, if this program had benefits which would advance opportunities for a better life, those more prosperous parents would be breaking down the doors to have their children enrolled. If it is only good for Black children...Something is wrong

So, Black Man then, what we can derive from what we have been hearing that these placements have been helping our children is totally false. We seek greater inclusion. Let all students benefit from this miseducation... If that cannot be accomplished, then, set a moratorium date. Return our children to regular class instruction or commit more white children to special education classes...AMEN!!!

[flowerandblood]

hii!! i love literally all of your stories and im obssessed with them!!!! <333

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

i would love to know the most is what happend to the ofc and aemond after the ending of the impossible choice, the pearl and the sapphire, the white flame and girl with a pearl earring :)))

im actually curious about what happend later in your every series because you tend to leave kind of an open ending (which is isnt a bad thing) but i love all of your ofc so much and im really invested in them and aemond so i just what to know what happends to them

❤️❤️❤️

Hello my love!!! Thank you so much, this is will be long one so sorry guys ❤️

⭐️The Impossible Choice - So the threat to them is now gone, so I imagine they would spend their lives peacefully on Dragonstone. Lady Baratheon must have borne him several more children, knowing Aemond and his desire to fill her.

After Aegon finally changed and with his brother's advice, he became as good a king as he could, finally appreciating Helaena who bore him another son and heir to the throne. This means that Daeron will remain just a prince, but will inherit the Dragonstone, which will pass to his children.

I imagine Aemond would be a similar father to Borros, strict but very connected to his children, only thinking about their future and fulfillment. He and Lady Baratheon would be the power couple of Westeros!

⭐️The Pearl and The Sapphire - Aemond would continue therapy and, as he said, he would start looking for a house in the suburbs. In the meantime, during their separation, they would call each other a lot, he would visit her from time to time in her family home, or she would visit him in his apartment.

Then they would slowly start arranging themselves, they would give Miss B her studio and room, Aemond would create his office and they would try to start their life together. He would slowly start telling her in the evenings by the fireplace, sitting with her in an armchair on his lap, about his past, about his complicated relationship with his family.

He would definitely introduce her to Alicent and Helaena eventually, feeling that what was between them was really serious. Eventually, he would decide that he wanted to propose to her and would ask Borros to create a ring for him decorated with pearls and sapphires, telling him about his plans.

⭐️ The White Flame - Aemond would go to college, wanting to finally fulfill his dreams. He would still play for the band, but he would devote himself largely to his studies and it gave him a lot of peace. He and Bunny moved into his apartment and lived a quiet life, while she still worked as a graphic designer.

⭐️ The Gril with Pearl Earring - She and Aemond would go together to the exhibition he invited her to and well, they would definitely sleep in the same hotel room, I think you can guess what was going on between the artist and his muse, I don't think Aemond would let her sleep.

In any case, they would officially be a couple, Aemond would take a lot of photos of her with his Instax, simply in their private space, loving to observe her, some of them would be nudes, but reserved for viewing only by him, which he would hide in a special hiding place.

After graduation, he would work as a photographer for large companies, shooting products, leaving portrait and artistic photography for his private life. I can imagine that both of them would work in marketing or advertising campaigns after their studies and they would fit in perfectly, having a similar sense of aesthetics.

I can imagine them as a melancholy, artistic, sweet couple in love, her sketching him while he reads a book, him photographing her as she lies in his bed in his shirt.

Ask me about my fics with emojis.

[leeyarak]

The Paths of Life Legacy - Gen A

"A" ... like adventurous

At the beginning of a long journey, Yannik Potts rented a small trailer in the small town of Strangerville. Rather, he got stuck here because his car broke down before the end of the first section to travel. But he hoped for at least a quiet time. Peace and contemplation. He had been struggling with a creative block for a long time now, hence the trip. All the paintings he made were just rubbish. Only a change of scenery could help. No parties. No affairs. Just rest and creative self-discovery. Different cultures, landscapes and new people.

As soon as he set foot in his new, temporary home, there was a knock on the door. Unsuspectingly, he opened it in the hope that he would get the first social contact with the curious neighbors – in a small town this was unavoidable – over with as quickly as possible. Before him stood a blond, petite curly head. Feminine, somehow pastel. Whether she was pretty - not that it mattered to him - he couldn't tell. She had twisted her face into a strange grimace. Behind her were three more women. Everyone was drooling and talking incoherently. "T..T…T… Taste the fruit!" Yannik jumped back, startled. An opportunity that the ladies did not want to miss. They staggered into his room, tearing down what few decorative items the home had to offer, and standing in the room with a strange stoop. Yannik wondered if he should call the police. Maybe the ambulance? Anyone? Before he could figure out who could best help him with his problem, the ladies disappeared again. But he didn't have time to catch his breath. Men and women in black entered his property, collected strange purple fruits from everywhere, threw a note at his feet, stole his fridge, told him that nothing had happened and disappeared again. At least his first visit had brought him cake. He had almost forgotten about it and since he had nothing else in the house he really didn't have a choice. With his stomach rumbling after all the hustle and bustle, he ate a bite. Another mistake that day.

But Yannik didn't want to end his first day in a new place in such a negative way. After all it was his time of self-discovery and peace! There must still be sensible people in this wasteland. A little further down the street he saw a kiosk. The people who worked there always knew more about a place. When he checked in at the store, he saw something medium-sized, red-haired, a bit gaunt, with a metal hat on his head. When Yannik greeted him, although he had to weigh things up a bit, he jumped to the side in shock and yelled: "No, you can't get me!" After a short moment he caught himself: "Excuse me, I'm Erwin. I'm sorry.” He leaned forward and whispered very softly: “They're over everyone. You know. You have to be careful!” Then he assumed a normal posture again and smiled brightly at Yannik. "Do you want to buy something?" Yannik tried to keep his composure and even managed to exchange a few nice sentences with the guy. So that the situation wasn't that unpleasant, he quickly bought a lava lamp, which he definitely didn't need and for which he actually didn't have any money. Something wasn't right here, but since he was planning to flee when he could afford to fix his cars, he probably wouldn't interfere. He wasn't interested in any of that. Actually. But he did feel a certain thrill. And so far he has never been able to resist it.

[stingslikeabee]

Carving a home amidst an entire new society was not something unfamiliar to Melissa - and perhaps that explained the seasoned movements in-between guests and servants alike, mixing the role of hostess and supervisor to ensure nothing about that housewarming of sorts would derail. While by no means of humble origins and spoiled rotten as a child, the eldest daughter of Edgar Drysdell had seen less exuberant times - and it wasn't until marrying into old European nobility that her fortune (literally and figuratively) changed.

Now, with the family crest of her last husband engraved into a ring that never left her left hand, Melissa demonstrated why she was new money in America - but not a novice to the lifestyle flaunted by the rich and famous. There was nothing remotely modest by the house acquired across the Atlantic, the lavish decoration of its opulent chambers (which were even more painstakingly rearranged for the party) or the woman's attire and jewelry collection.

But no matter how impressive her bank statement was, the thing that had drawn most people to her opening of the season was the hostess' own past. The black widow, the blood countess, the poison ivy - many had been the curious epithets attributed to the lady given her tragic backstory, filled with misfortune where husbands were concerned. Luckily the last one, a proud heir of the old Italian nobility who still cared to parade his title around even though monarchy had been long abolished, prevented further scandalous deaths by making sure his last wife inherited it all to thrive without another male soulmate.

Melissa's party had it all - the precise invitees from the relevant business conglomerates, those next in line of the local political powers, the chief sponsors of art and drama, the most renowned lawyers and doctors. And yet, all these guests seemed to be hoping for a sliver of a confession, some sort of confirmation of their own suspicions that were never acknowledged by the countess except with the slightest twist of lips.

And if they expected a femme fatale in red or a grieving widow in black, they were sorely disappointed. Melissa made the rounds in a spectacular white dress, pristine as a dove and just as delicate. With the exception of a generous slit for the legs which made her attire a distant cousin of anything demure and fit for a wedding, she was covered in pearls and diamonds - like a blank canvas for the audience to project their hopes and twisted dreams, a simulacrum of the virgin she no longer happened to be after three marriages (and a equal number of funerals).

A local senator had been following Melissa like a hawk - the disapproval on his face was more evident than on the others', perhaps because of her choice of attire when the entire house had been decorated with darker shades, dim lights and pleasant music aiming to foster less than chaste impulses. The scene caused her to drop a comment close to another guest - the esteemed doctor Hannibal Lecter. A foreign one too, according to her research - but well-established enough in the new world, enough for many to forget he hadn't always been a treasure of the land of the free.

At his remark of how the entire room was potentially eager to see her tumbling (and falling), Melissa smiled at him in a way that only those experiencing true elation could offer. The odds could be stacked against her - but her confidence was palpable, and the idea of being doubted or tested seemed to only offer more adrenaline.

"Ah - is the good doctor an ardent lover of the Montepulciano such as myself?" the brunette returned the toast, sampling the wine herself - it was not so frequently found in America (or even in most of Europe outside Italy, for that matter), but it paired splendidly well with the entrées and it was a nice throwback to her ties with the old continent, particularly the lands where the count's family had originated from.

"I hope this means you are not terribly upset for not hosting this month, but even a newcomer such as myself has heard of your special evenings. The rumors paint a picture worthy of the classic Italian masters - I would hate to deprive this town of the staple of their social life," Melissa nodded in a sign of respect - hers was no empty flattery; after all, the local circles of ladies remarked upon Dr. Lecter's gatherings with a note of awe.

"If I can count you as being on the corner for a good night, Doctor Lecter, I would love some company later for a dance. I think we shall make a great pair," her smile widened just a bit behind the rim of the glass, almost like a younger girl playing coy at prom - but only almost. Melissa made no attempt at inspiring innocence, after all.

"Like wine spilled over tablecloth - or perhaps blood over canvas."

For once, Hannibal wasn’t the object of interest in the room. It was an invite he had agreed upon, for social circles overlapped, and he properly declined a hosting for this month. There was a reason for this: to scope out the room without being accosted by others in favor of offering their delighted, sugary words of doting admiration of the meal that he had tediously constructed with his proper flair. The ethic butcher could properly put down the knife and gaze upon the market of his guests.

He wore a dark blazer, buttoned up with his merlot vest and equally deep shade of a Balthus knot patterned tie. It was a move to allow him to blend in with the backdrop of the low-lit estate for aesthetic preferences. A red wine, nearly matching the color he chose tonight on his person, swirled within his glass as he let his eyes do most of the talking in the room.

Hors d'oeuvres of delicate delights made their rounds on silver platters; even here, he eyed their construction. Muted conversations took the frontal lobe section of his mind, dissembling some entrees and reworking them to what he would showcase.

A familiar scent took his gaze from the event and fictitious smiles; he knew this aroma well enough by now. Her (@stingslikeabee) face materialized in his mind before he even placed his eyes upon her. She was what a few called ‘new money’ at least; she was ‘fresh’ in a sense to the area. While most of the people who invested in these parties had their fair share of years upon years of promoting their brand, Melissa was reasonably new.

He could also detect the expensive, nourishing skincare lotion she used. It wasn’t from the United States, a scent he was all too keen to detect on the streets of Paris in his youth.

He deduced that she blended in wonderfully. How her smile outshone even those who were known to reach theirs to their eyes. She was well aware of the company that others kept, and with a passing gaze and a light brush of their mingling, he caught her words—whispered but clear.

“He’s waiting for my first mistake.”

He matches it, though his gaze is a full sweep of the room, a head leaning in as he brings the wine glass nearer to his lips. The words echo within the shell of it, directing preciously in her range of hearing. “I believe a full room is awaiting it.” Rising as she was in the social constraints of this tier, there were still people out there who whispered of her past. Even he had his ears pricked when her name was on the tongue of others.

It intrigued him.

The wine cascaded across his tastebuds, and he closed his eyes to soak in the flavors before speaking. “No matter what the platter looks like, swallow it all.” A common mistake those who were newly introduced to this circle endured. Anyone who graced their expression with disapproving lines was met with a cold shoulder and a curling lip.

“At the very least.. the wine is exquisite.” He lifted the glass, offering her a small toast.

[sunboki]

༉‧₊˚. BITE ME. ‍ ‍ ‍ 05. i almost feel spoiled

“good lord..” you manage out, dropping the scattered bags of decor on the common-rooms floor upon returning to the dorms. it felt like your soul had been sucked from your body, exhaustion settling in faster than expected.

felix collapses on the couch beside you, busying himself with his phone whilst you simply sink into the soft cushions—fighting the urge to drift asleep. however, with moving in, your brother butting in, shopping, and more so, the need for sleeping was inevitable.

meanwhile, as you were almost snoring on the couch, lino was getting free entertainment from the troubled remaining boys that emerged from their dorms, complaining about how they couldn’t join in on the shopping spree.

“just because y/nnie knows you better doesn’t mean you shouldn’t say anything to us~!” han whined profusely, thrashing about with clear distress on his face.

“same goes for felix!” hyunjin added, resisting the urge to laugh as he mimicked han’s pout. felix rolling his eyes in reply.

it occurred to felix that you hadn’t said anything, and thanks to his curious personality he discovered quickly that you were indeed fast asleep with your cheek smushed in the cozy material.

“shhh shh..” he waved his hands hurriedly, hoping not for them to disturb your peaceful nap. the others giving him a confused stare.

“y/nnie’s sleeping! be quiet!” he scolded, han’s face contorting to form an “o” with his mouth. one by one, the boys tiptoed to you—marveling at the resting beauty among them.

chan hesitated, voice lowered to barely a whisper. “should we move her? this couch isn’t good for her back..” he offered, sending felix a doubtful look; the freckled boy only shrugged in reply.

in the end, the eight began bickering over who would be the nice guy and take you back to your dorm.. minho being the predominant choice. 

stumbling from bed with a lazy smile stretching at your lips, you entered the commons to where an incredibly glorious sight sat in front of you.

minho, in an apron. brows creased and lips taut in a natural pout of focus.

wow. what a sight.

“look who woke up.” he grinned, casting an amused look in your direction as he finished filling a plate with mouth-watering pancakes—the reason behind the amazing smell earlier.

“mhmm..” you hummed, obviously still waking up despite how crazily you shoveled the pancakes down. “y’know you should consider being a culinary arts major.” his laughter following soon after made blood rise to your head in a dizzy spell.

oh the things he did to you.

“nah, i’d hate it after a bit.” his lips pulled into a tight line, untying the apron from his waist and discarding the sanitary gloves he wore. “say, wanna come with me to practice?”

ah, that’s right. you’d forgotten he’s a dance major.

well this will be interesting.

✞ masterlist _ next _ previous

sypnosis; finally getting into your dream college as a nursing major, it just so happens that this college in is prestigious for its long history—and for the notorious eight vampires attending as well?! these mysterious eight spend their days either collecting an army of fangirls or breaking hearts. but when one of the eight vampires takes interest in you, you find yourself in quite a sticky situation when your vampire-hating brother steps in.

✞ notes; UM HOUSE HUSBAND LINO ANYONE?? PLEASE I-😩✋

#taglist: @emmie5168 @babyphotos0325 @hikari-chan69 @dark-mark

all rights for this work are owned by @sunboki

[ossonee777]

Moon through the houses

Moon in the first house: Your feelings are right out there for everyone to see, and you can come across as emotional and impatient, or nurturing and caring (or both). You need emotional stimulation, movement, and freedom to express yourself in order to feel happy and fulfilled. They may try to hide their emotions, but it is difficult. They are on display. First-house moon people are cautious in their interactions and always on guard for fear of getting hurt. Forget about pleasing everyone (it can't be done) and instead focus on doing your best. Develop self-confidence and the courage to be different and don't let it get to you. You can be very sensitive to your environment so do not go to places that might bring up ill feelings or bad memories in you. Your sub-conscious is probably very strong and sometimes quite unmanageable.

Moon in the second house: A constant worry about money and keeping the security it provides is common with a second-house moon. If money is plentiful, the chart holder may easily become complacent until the money dwindles causing a cycle of comfort and worry. Financial security is necessary for a person with their moon in their second house. You tend to hold back and wait before expressing yourself, and when you do it is with deliberation.

Moon in the third house: You are very responsive, communicative, and curious. You can have a talent for imitating others and/or for picking up languages. A third house-moon is at ease with learning and finds it comforting. Like the third-house sun, early schooling is a central issue whether it is positive or negative. This position also inclines a person to communicate their feelings and lends an ability to explain their feelings clearly. it gives a bit of detachment to the moon's emotions because it ads an intellectualism.

Moon in the fourth house: You long for a sense of true belonging, but you may be quite restless in your search. You might change residence frequently, or simply feel the need to make many changes in your home. Home and family are paramount for fourth-house moons as they look to home and family as their sanctuary in the world. Interacting with family members is serious business for fourth-house moons and any disagreements or disputes are taken to heart. Their heritage is experienced on a feeling level rather than as something they learn about as they mature.

Moon in the fifth house: There is a constant need to find ways of expressing themselves. With the moon, there is always a need to fulfill the desires of the house in which it falls, which is so deep it is often unconscious. In the fifth house of self-expression, art, music, performing, home decorating, fashion, dating, and bearing children are examples of activities that fill the need, but the list is endless. Many people with a fifth-house moon are able to express themselves genuinely, and they are satisfied. Easily flowing from one creative endeavor to the next, they feel comfortable with who they are. Romance is second nature rather than awkward.

Moon in the sixth house: With the moon in the sixth house, the focus is on caring rather than perfecting. The sixth-house moon chart holder doesn't lose the desire to live well and perfect their skills, but this need is subdued by the need to care for others and be cared for by others in practical ways. Those with sixth-house moons assume that their loved ones will always provide them with food, money and shelter. Likewise, they are happy to do laundry, clean and cook. As long as the balance is there, these chart holders hum along happily.

Moon in the seventh house: You seem to attract sensitive people as partners, perhaps those who want to "mother" you or be mothered. There can be many changes of partners and many relationships because of the need to find someone who can bring an ultimate security. You desire companionship, hence many relationships. Your feelings are greatly influenced by those with whom you are in close personal contact. You want to be popular with others. You are therefore likely to attract a partner who is kind and domesticated. Both you and your partner may need to be on your guard against moody or fickle behavior. Marriage may be undertaken with the object of establishing a home. More than one marriage is possible.

Moon in eighth house: You desire security and perhaps look for it through other people's possessions or resources. You have self-doubt and worry. You may be subject to jealousy, envy and possessiveness. Psychic sensitivity is noticeable and psychic abilities can be developed, hopefully along positive lines. There may be financial gain through a partnership, business or through marriage. You are intrigued by what motivates others. Preoccupation with sex or death can exist for you.

Moon in ninth house: You are a dreamer and muse often about the higher aspects of life. Since you may not be content with the way your life currently is going, you have the desire to search for fresh fields. This search may take you on many long travels, both physically and mentally. Security may be found in a religious or philosophical ideal. Your philosophy of life is what nurtures you and gives you security. You have a variety of interests, in sports, hobbies, and studies. You make a stimulating teacher because of your personal interest in the subjects you teach. They are really a part of you and that comes across to those who listen to you.

Moon in tenth house: Comfortable in the public eye, the tenth-house moon wants to be out in the world enjoying its natural gift of assumed high status. The public arena is the natural home for these chart holders and the world naturally accepts them. From an early age, these chart holders feel comfortable in the public eye. It is emotionally satisfying for them to feel accepted by the public. Being on stage, in front of a camera or speaking to the public comes naturally to them and feels emotionally natural. In fact, the feeling of being accepted by the public feeds their emotions, and success in the public eye gives them emotional homeostasis. These chart holders will always do well in careers involving caring for the public as the moon is about mutual caring. Think of Mahatma Gandhi whose tenth-house moon wanted to care for the world before himself.

Moon in the eleventh house: Their ability to move society on a large scale comes from a deeply felt need rather than the drive seen with the eleventh-house suns. It is emotionally based and there is comfort in groups. When an eleventh-house moon gives a speech or promotes their social message it has a caring tone to it. These chart holders often use the moon's emotional nature to express their views artistically. A high comfort level in group leadership positions puts people at ease and instills trust in people. They are able to lead people and enact social change by gaining trusting supporters. They also expect society to support them. The moon's caring nature has an equal but opposite need to be cared for in return. Depending on signs and aspects, they may have an expectancy of acceptance which gives them a natural advantage and confidence.

Moon in the twelfth: The twelfth-house moon person is denied the comforting, nurturing childhood the rest us assume is a normal part of childhood. A mother who is preoccupied, distant or absent creates an unnurturing environment for this twelfth-house moon child. Childhood is often painful and lonely. Over time, these chart holders have no choice but to learn how to self nurture. Sometimes this is done with drugs or alcohol, but religion, meditation, philosophy and service to others also satisfies the nurturing need. The ability to find a productive way to self-nurture that isn't self destructive is difficult and often takes years. It's easy for these people to fall into depression and feel lost and alone. It takes a great deal of emotional strength for them to crawl out of the dark loneliness of this planetary position and develop the ability to love themselves enough to compensate for the lack of emotional support they receive from the world. Even when these people are able to get past this, there is a vague feeling of confusion about how to find comfort and nurturing on a daily basis. They don't know what they like or how to really feel satisfied.

[flower-gothic]

walk among us (eddie munson x fem!reader)

summary: it's been seven months since you lost Eddie in the upside-down. tonight is halloween, his favorite holiday, and it seems that your past has come back to haunt you...

cw: mentions of death, very slight mentions of gore/injuries, angst, supernatural shit?? idk

a/n: wow, I've been writing like crazy lately! as usual, I'm so so appreciative to everyone who's been giving my little fics some love. this one came to me after rewatching the Halloween episodes of AHS: Murder House and the concept is based off of that. love you all and please enjoy!!

You used to love Halloween. The entire month of October was often spent celebrating the holiday, chock-full of horror movies and haunted houses and pumpkin-flavored treats. You reveled in the ritual of designing your costume each year, never deterred by the judgments of those who thought it childish. You even loved the excuse to gorge yourself on fun-sized candies. 

The keyword, however, was used to. Because Halloween was also Eddie’s favorite time of year; it had been before he left, anyway. You still struggled with the d-word that most accurately described his current and eternal state. 

Eddie adored Halloween as much as you, if not more. He often coordinated a costume with you and pulled out his Misfits cassettes for the entire month to set the spooky tone of the season. With the most wickedly ravenous sweet tooth you’d ever seen on a human, Eddie consumed even more Halloween candy than you. You found it endearing when, each year, he groaned to you about the bellyache that ensued, making you promise not to let him eat so much candy next time, but Eddie never learned that lesson.

It had been seven months, now, since that fateful day in the upside-down. It had been seven months since the hordes of demobats tore the love of your life to shreds, leaving behind only a broken and bloodied shell. You still had nightmares about his final words, the blood dripping from his mouth as you and Dustin held his fading body in your laps. And in the end, what hurt the most was that you simply had to leave him there: your sweet, vibrant Eddie lying lifelessly in the cold and merciless expanse of the upside-down for the rest of time, all because he had to be the hero. 

There was a part of you, however ashamed you were of it, that was angry with him for sacrificing himself. Did he ever think of what this would do to you? You felt selfish for it; Eddie had died for something greater than your relationship. But sometimes, when you cried yourself to sleep at night, you wondered if anything was truly greater than the love you had for the scruffy metalhead. 

You had survived and mourned for seven months, and though the waves of paralyzing grief hit you more and more seldom, October 31st washed over you like a tsunami. You didn’t decorate your home, you didn’t make a costume, and you didn’t bake any of the pumpkin-flavored treats Eddie used to love so much. Instead, you made an excuse to all of your friends and holed up by yourself in your dark bedroom. Rather than a costume, you had draped your body in one of Eddie’s Hellfire t-shirts; rather than attend a party, you had rented Evil Dead 2 and picked through a big bowl filled with Milky Ways, Eddie’s favorite movie and candy. You knew this was irrational, and you tried to go about your life as normally as possible, but on a night like this, it was all you could do not to fall apart.

You had gotten about halfway through the cheesy movie that Eddie had so adored when you heard a faint rapping at your window. This caused you to jump: no one ever climbed to your second-story window. No one except Eddie.

It was a pretty sick prank for one of your friends to do this, especially on Halloween night. Anger bubbled up inside you as you prepared some choice words for whoever was on the other side of the glass. Nothing could have prepared you for who you saw peering through your window, though.

It was Eddie’s curious face looking back at you when you got there.

You let out a bloodcurdling shriek when you saw him, backing away from the window so quickly that you tripped over your bed. This was impossible; you had been there in Eddie’s final moments–had held him in your arms as he took his final breaths.

You were too terrified to look again, afraid that you were losing your mind, but afraid, as well, that it really was him. You were still cycling through these thoughts when you heard his muffled voice from outside the window: “Y/N, couldja let me in? It’s freezing out here,” you heard him say.

That voice belonged to Eddie, it was unmistakable. You heard it in your dreams most nights, and in your nightmares, too. It never left you. On shaking legs, you stumbled back over to the window and looked into the face that belonged to your late boyfriend. 

“Stop starin’ and let me in already! I swear I’ll explain everything,” Eddie pleaded. 

Before you could think, you were unlocking the window and weakly pulling it open. Eddie hopped through the same way he always did–shockingly graceful for his tall, lanky form. His smile was exactly the same. You were hypnotized by it until he spoke again. “Hi, pretty girl. I know this seems in-fucking-sane, but I promise I’ll explain. Oh, one other thing: don’t look down,” he instructed.

It was only a reflex that your eyes drifted downward at his statement. They landed on his torso. Eddie’s shirt was bloodstained and ripped open, revealing torn flesh in many places. “Oh, fuck!” you gasped. A wave of nausea overcame you and you found yourself sprinting to the bathroom at the sight which had haunted you for months.

As you retched into the toilet, footsteps approached. “Well, I told you not to look,” Eddie said in grim amusement. You felt his strong hands pulling your hair from your face; it made you shudder. When you had finished, you turned slowly toward him.

“How are you here? How is this possible? I…I watched you die,” you said weakly. Part of you still didn’t believe it was real. It must be a prank, something Dustin or Steve conjured up. That thought was discarded quickly; your friends would never dare be so heartless. 

Eddie nodded and sank down next to you on the bathroom floor. You were careful to look only at his face this time. “Funny story,” he began with a sigh. “After I, well, died, everything went dark for a while. But then, it was like I just…woke up. Part of me thought I was alive and I recovered, that you guys had forgotten me down there, but when I realized I couldn’t move beyond my trailer and the area around it, I knew it meant something else.”

“It meant what?” you asked. Everything that had already transpired seemed so crazy that you felt you would believe anything Eddie told you.

“Well, I know this is hard to believe, but…I’m a ghost, Y/N.”

You swallowed thickly. “But how could you be a ghost? I felt you touch me a few minutes ago,” you said.

Eddie shrugged. “Y’know how I used to read a lot, right? I read some lore and some occult shit, back then, instead of reading the things I was supposed to for school. It was still gonna be my year though, dammit, if I’d only been alive to graduate.” He laughed sadly. “Anyway, I’ve read about this. In some lore, it says that ghosts are tethered to the places they died in every day of the year except one: Halloween. On October 31st each year, the dead are free to walk the earth. And apparently it’s true,” he explained. 

You nodded as you processed his words. “So along with being able to be free, you regain a physical form?” you asked. 

He nodded in return. “That’s right. I’m as good as human, baby. For tonight, anyway.” He grinned his signature Eddie grin at you and your heart nearly burst from the ache of how much you’d missed it. 

“So can I…can I hug you?” you asked cautiously. 

“I’d love nothing more. I’ve dreamt of holding you again ever since the last time I saw you,” Eddie confessed. He spread his arms open for you.

Your eyes couldn’t help but gravitate to the open wounds that still littered his chest and torso, but the thought of being safe and warm in Eddie’s arms again won out over the reluctance you felt. You came to him slowly, wrapped your arms around him cautiously, as though he might break, but Eddie’s embrace was as strong and all-consuming as it always had been. It felt like coming home. 

The reluctance and the fear and the surrealness of it all no longer mattered, all that mattered was that very moment when the boy you had loved and fought for and stood beside so many times was finally able to hold you again. 

You pressed your face into Eddie’s chest and the tears began to fall: tears of happiness, tears of grief, tears of anger. “Why did you do it, Eddie? Why’d you have to go and be the hero and die because of it? Didn’t you ever think of what it would do to me, to lose you?” you sobbed into him. 

His arm ran soothingly up and down your back. “I know, sweet girl. I’m so, so sorry. In my dying breaths and every moment since then I’ve thought of you. The pain of being mauled by bats is nothing to the pain of losing you,” he said softly. 

“I wish you could take it back. Just take it back, Eddie, take it back and stay here with me,” you pleaded through your tears.

He was quiet for a brief moment. “I can’t take it back, though. And I don’t regret it. Saving you, saving our friends, was the most important thing I could ever do.” 

You looked up at him then, and the sobs racked your body even more violently. “How the fuck can you say that? I’m a mess without you.” Your face contorted into a tearful scowl as you landed a soft punch to the middle of Eddie’s chest before collapsing back into him. 

His arms around you grew tighter. “I know, doll, I know. Let it out. You have every right to be furious with me. I don’t blame you for feeling this way. I’m angry with myself all the time,” he said.

You didn’t say anything more for quite a while; instead, you simply let Eddie hold you as you wept against him. Eventually, your eyes dried out and the tears subsided. Your face was red and puffy when you finally looked up at Eddie again. He tucked a strand of hair, now damp and sticky, behind your ear. You sniffled wetly.

“Oh, my poor, pretty girl. Let’s get you into bed,” he said gently. Eddie picked you up with ease, the same way he always had. 

“Doesn’t it hurt? Walking around and even picking me up with all your…wounds?” you asked. 

Eddie smiled fondly as he set you down on the bed. “No, not usually. Only sometimes, when I have these sort of… episodes, I guess you could call them. The pain gets me then.” He seemed to shudder at the thought. 

“So, what’s it like? Being down there all the time, I mean. And being a ghost.” 

Eddie’s face became grim at your question. “It’s so lonely. I don’t have much to pass the time with, save for my guitar. Things are scary there, too. Lots of weird creatures and shit. But I know they can’t do anything to me. I’m dead already, after all.” He laughed a hollow laugh. The sound caused you to grimace.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie. I-I wish I could visit you, but….” you trailed off. Nothing about returning to the upside-down was safe or logical, despite the way you yearned to cure Eddie’s sentence to eternity there. 

He shook his head. “I don’t want you to think like that. It wouldn’t be safe, and I could never forgive myself if you ended up down there for all eternity with me, no matter how much the selfish part of me wishes I could have you,” he said.  Then, with a thoughtful pause, he asked, “Y/N? If you aren’t too upset by my being here, could I, maybe…stay? Until I have to go when the sun comes up, I mean.”

You smiled sadly at him and nodded. “Please, please stay, Eds.” 

As you cuddled back under your covers and held them open for him, Eddie turned to the paused movie on your tv. “Baby, this one’s my favorite!” His eyes lit up in childlike excitement that wrenched your heart. 

“I know it is. Look what else I have. Not sure if you can eat, but…” You gestured to the large bowl of fun-size Milky Way bars at the end of the bed and his eyes grew wide. 

“My favorite,” he breathed. “I don’t know if I can eat, but fuck if I’m not gonna try. I haven’t eaten in seven months.” Eddie grabbed a handful of the candies and found, to his delight, that he could eat them. 

The two of you laid in bed exactly the way you once had: horror movie on the tv, Eddie’s arm around you, and his chocolate-flavored lips on yours. You hadn’t been able to resist the urge to kiss your boyfriend after so many months apart; you did everything you could to resist the heat that coiled in your belly.

Much later, as you felt yourself getting sleepy and comfortable with Eddie back by your side, he spoke again. “I wish I could be here like this all the time. It’s so warm and cozy here. The upside-down is so…cold. I’m cold all the time, Y/N,” he told you sadly, and your heart broke. 

“I’d keep you here for the rest of time if I could, Eds.” He held onto you a little tighter.

Though you did all that you could to fight sleep and savor the time you had with Eddie, the warm embrace of sleep was too tempting. This night had exhausted you as much as it had overjoyed you, and the familiar smell and feel and sound of Eddie nearby gently lulled you into unconsciousness. 

When, through the haze of sleep,  you heard that familiar voice say, “Goodnight, princess. I’ll see you next year,” you couldn’t tell if it was real or only a dream. 

When your eyes cracked open to find the light of day, Eddie was no longer there. You looked around for him in a slight panic, and briefly, you wondered if it had all been a dream. There was no trace of his warmth in your bed; the scent of him was long-gone. But when you found a mess of Milky-Way wrappers arranged in the shape of a heart on your desk, you knew for certain that your Eddie had really been there–this was no dream.

Until next Halloween.

[lavendermin]

from sea of flowers, garden of eternity | xiao

pairing | xiao/reader

word count | 2k

genre | pwp, fluff, light angst, brief smut

note | glaze lily spirit reader, you are also in perpetual pain I’m sorry

“Xiao…” he hears your voice meekly call.

The adeptus is already on his feet before you can fully enter the room, his eyes quickly focused on you. He scans your body language diligently, looking for signs of pain or discomfort. It’s become a routine by now.

“Are you…?” His voice trails off when you shake your head apologetically. The slight strain in your smile doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I’m alright for now. The pains haven’t started yet. I think I’m set for another few hours, a day if I’m lucky,” you reassure him. “I just— wanted to check on you.”

Xiao gives you a blank look, one you recognize as confusion. “Check… on me…?”

“Just to see how you’re doing,” you clarify with a shy smile. As you make your way to sit on the bed, you gently pat the space next to you.

There’s a slight red upon his cheeks as he chooses to take up your invitation. The bed dips under his weight, and words do not need to be spoken to know both your minds drift briefly to past trysts that took place where you sit.

“I’m heading out to patrol the area in an hour. If you need anything at all, speak my name,” Xiao announces quietly. It’s a brief awkward silence as he rigidly sits next to you—tense almost. You answer him with a simple nod, hands absentmindedly rubbing little circles on your legs to ease the tingles of pain that slowly resurfaced.

Conversation was scarce the past few months you were placed into his watchful guard. The relationship you both harbored was a blurred line you tried not to think about too much for fear of over-complicating it.

And with your entire being, you could say you came to the unfortunate doom of falling in love with him. The emotional distance he kept oftentimes only confused you as much as your own emotions left him puzzled and a little flustered.

He kept you alive. That was the simplicity of the details Xiao was given. Perhaps it was a favor he was doing you, but he diligently carried it out with all the steadfastness of a contract bestowed onto him by the former Lord of Geo.

—

“I’m sure you are aware of the situation near Qingce Village,” Zhongli had brought up upon summoning Xiao several moons after the stirrings of a slumbering god.

Though the situation was previously dire, all was settled—Xiao knew this as a fact, for he was the one that swiftly took care of the aftermath of a dormant god’s power seeping through the earth. So, the battle hadn’t ended then…

“I was careless—“

Zhongli cut him off, carefully setting down his cup in its saucer. “On the contrary, this was in no way able to be foreseen by you. The world has a way of ending and raising new questions, just as easily as it provides answers to those who seek them.”

On the small garden table, Zhongli’s eyes trail to the glaze lily that sits in a small decorative vase. Unlike most, this lone flower is fully bloomed despite the time of day. It glows ever so slightly—weakly almost.

“You are aware that glaze lilies grow in the Qingce area, and there are a few wild outcroppings that shy away from prying eyes,” Zhongli starts.

His gloved finger reaches out to tenderly graze the petals, and at once the flower closes up. The petals take on a dullness, and visibly they start to wilt in small patches.

“The reasons are uncertain, but rumor spread around the village of a wandering ghost that followed the moon aimlessly. A spirit born of glaze lilies appeared after the battle that took place near there. It seems the power seeped deep into cracked earth among the flowerbeds.”

The young adeptus remained quiet, taking in the information. What exactly did this have to do with him, he wondered?

With a hint of apprehension, Xiao asks, “This spirit—has it taken on a malevolent nature?”

Instead of answering straight away, Zhongli wordlessly stands and makes his way back indoors. Xiao obediently follows, curious of the nature of this spirit.

“Nothing of the sort. However, these glaze lilies fell victim to the corruption of your karmic debt and at the same time were nurtured by immense adeptal power. There is a wavering balance that must be kept, for her body is as fragile as a flower’s and cannot withstand the depletion and shifts of adeptal energy.” With graceful steps, Zhongli stops before a door. “No other adeptus has successfully remained compatible with the energy she needs. So far it has only brought excruciating pain for her, and I fear she may die at this rate.”

With a silent nod, Xiao processes this information. His gloved hand is unmoving on the door handle.

“What are the terms of this contract,” Xiao silently asks, amber eyes trained on the door in front of him.

“My time has long passed to give you a new contract, Adeptus Xiao.” Zhongli chuckles fondly at the serious habits of the adeptus before him. “This is a choice I am giving you. It may take centuries for her body to adjust to the adeptal power she now harbors. If she is compatible with you, it is up to you to decide whether you supply her with your adeptal energy, otherwise she may not make it past next week.”

Xiao remains quiet for a brief moment before speaking softly, “Her body is tearing itself apart…”

“Correct.”

There’s something in that fact that stirs feelings Xiao isn’t used to in his chest. He accepts, and the first memory of you that adorns his mind is one that clenches his heart in a way he rarely experiences. The pain that twists and contorts your face as you desperately heave, body seemingly tearing itself apart in a way the naked eye cannot see.

You’re a beautiful tragedy born of moonlight and sweet soil. And in that moment when your eyes meet his, a single tear rolls down your cheek. He cannot fathom the thought of letting your life end as quickly as it began.

The door behind him clicks shut, and he takes your fragile life into his hands.

—

The lights of the house are dim—a subtle golden glow against a comforting darkness in the blanket of night. A meadow of glaze lilies surrounds the little cottage in a sea of fragrance. A prominent mark of your abode.

The little house defended by mountains is secluded, one which Zhongli sent to be made for you while your body stabilizes.

And though the exterior is tranquil, within its walls come soft pants and gasps. Xiao’s brows are knit together in concentration as he ruts against you.

“Please—Ah…nnh a–again,” you beg against your trembling body’s protests.

And he wordlessly complies, folding your legs until your knees are practically at the sides of your head. His hips pick up the pace and his thrusts become desperate, bodies covered in a sheen of sweat. The moans you let out are loud—obscene as he fills you up until you’re overflowing. The pains have long subsided, and you choose to let him overcompensate in giving you the energy that will get you by another few days.

In the serene calm of night, the tranquility is drowned out by the squelching sounds of your bodies meeting each other through desperate thrusts as both of you are sent over the edge. His name falls from your lips in a melody Xiao has grown addicted to. For the nth time that night you come undone beneath him, your essence stabilized.

There’s a swelling warmth in your chest that blooms like spring meadows as Xiao buries his face in the crook of your neck. The tips of his ears are a bright scarlet and though he tries to control it, he is still left a breathless mess as he rides out his orgasm.

“Is it…enough?” Xiao asks between pants, his cock still buried deep within you.

He’s still twitching within you and your entire body shudders with delight at the feeling.

“You… haah—can keep… going if you want,” you offer weakly. There’s a dazed look in your half-lidded eyes that makes Xiao’s chest squeeze. “‘M full but you’re still…”

Hard.

You glance down to where you two are still joined together, the view of his come leaking out of you shamelessly sending heat between your legs again. The tips of Xiao’s ears turn bright red though he tries to remain composed.

“I’ll be fine. You should get some rest to preserve the energy longer.”

He pulls out and ignores the way your eyes look away dejectedly. Before he can stand to go, your hand gently tugs him back down. Xiao allows himself to be pulled against you, his head resting in the valley of your naked chest.

“Stay with me for a bit?”

Xiao doesn’t answer right away, and your heart leaps when he lets out a little sigh and agrees.

“Alright.”

The minutes tick by in tranquil silence. Both tired bodies ignore the sticky feeling of sweat and sex. It’s a feeling you’re both quite used to by now.

“Xiao?” you start quietly after a while. He hums in response, your fingers running through his dark hair soothingly. “Can I kiss you?”

The question is soft, self-conscious almost with the fear of rejection. But you were beyond a breaking point. The feelings were welling up in your chest like a high tide as you felt him tense up at your question.

Sex was common—quite often as a means of easily transferring adeptal energy to you. And because it was a painful process to take in, you found that this method dulled the pain through the twisted pleasures and mixed sensations.

But that’s all it was— a means to keep you alive. You could never say there was a time Xiao kissed you and he always showed restraint in touching your body more than necessary. His bodily needs were never foremost on his mind and he would never tell you how his hands ached to roam your body, how this arrangement became an illusion of a different reality he couldn’t have. And so he locked away his emotions for his own sake.

Xiao lifted his face from your chest, his golden eyes wide with momentary confusion—perhaps even shock. And your face… those wonderful sparkling eyes that glistened with glossy tears on the brink of rolling down your face. He wished he wasn’t the reason you were crying.

In an instant he propped himself up on his forearms, feeling you lightly tremble beneath him from holding back the urge to cry. A quiet hiccup left you as you were overwhelmed by bottled up feelings all at once, his thumb gently brushing your tears away.

“Why?” was all he asked.

Though it was a genuine question, his actions remained tender and calmed the anxiety that gripped your naive heart.

“Because I love you—because I think I love you.”

Quietly you hiccuped beneath him and Xiao gently rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed.

“Then love me if it makes you happy,” he responds softly. The tears that twinkle down your face like falling stars are gently kissed away by his soft lips. “I’m with you until the day I die, and if loving me makes living less painful for you then use me as an anchor to reality.”

Your soft crying is hushed as Xiao presses a tender kiss to your lips. It’s short and just enough to bloom your heart with newfound emotions you had yet to experience. Perhaps you reminded the adeptus of himself in a simpler time—naive, innocent. For that, he took pity on you, and also fell deeply in love with you though he would not know it for a long time.

Simply put, he wouldn’t allow himself to know it.

The flowers that surround the small house glow and dance in the night breeze. They bloom with your newfound knowledge—heartache.