#they’re not allowed to take credit for other people’s works because it fucks up their dignity girl that’s so silly

[kavalyera]

sorry not sorry but i’d love to make another ventrue oc based off of patrick bateman this clan has me in a chokehold i heard the words “arrogance” and “vampire” and i was like yes bitch sign me up

[ghostaholics]

I am LIVING for your jealous/possessive enemies with benefits ghost. He sees reader being a little too friendly with another man and goes FERAL. Nobody knows why. Not even him.

❝ 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐋. ❞ Fucks your throat raw, likes seeing your lips stretched around his cock, drool leaking out of the corners of your mouth and trickling down your chin as you struggle to take all of him in, just a little messy; the way you allow your muscles to go slightly lax to deep-throat him, but it’s still so goddamn tight. And you spoil him with your mouth, gently sucking at the head and tonguing the entirety of him, even better when you add your palm too, can’t quite wrap your fingers around his cock but it’s hot and slippery and all that matters is you’re trying your best. His hand is threaded through your hair, close to the scalp, close to the roots and flexing hard when you swallow him to the hilt – loves that this lets him control your movements. From the expression on your face, this fucked-out, glazed-over look, he can tell that you’re enjoying it more than he is; gets his point proven when you snake your fingers down between your legs to play with your clit because you just can’t help yourself. (❝ What would all of ‘em think if they saw you on your knees for me, huh, sweetheart? ❞) And there’s something really satisfying to him hearing how utterly wrecked your voice is the next day when you sound hoarse trying to talk to other people.

❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇. ❞ He has you facing the mirror, sitting reverse on his lap with your legs wrenched apart – forces you to pay attention to how his cock’s got you split open like this, the easiest way for him to work himself inside your cunt. He’s got one hand on your hip, guiding you up and down just how you need him at a rough and steady rate. His other hand spans over your jaw, your throat; directing you to look at your reflection and how it’s him that’s ruining you – your wet and sticky slickness soaking his cock. He wants you to see what he sees: you, taking him so well, everything that he offers. (❝ No. Eyes open. Gotta remind you who’s the only one that can turn you into such a fucking mess like this, yeah? ❞)

❝ 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓. ❞ He mutters it under his breath, has a hand over your mouth to stifle your noises – Jesus Christ, you’re so goddamn loud; in the blackness of the supply closet where he’s got you, back against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist (❝ Just a quick fuck, c’mon. I know you’re aching for it. ❞) – only needs five minutes to get you off. And when you’re groaning too fucking much while he pounds into your cunt, Ghost tells himself that he doesn’t want to be caught dead with you like this. You don’t either, of course, considering the mutual feelings of animosity shared between the two of you. So it’s a low growl, a warning from him: ❝ If you don’t shut up, they’re gonna hear us— ❞ But the idea only rips another long moan from your throat. And when he sees how much you might actually want that, for somebody to walk by and figure out that you’re getting stuffed full of his cock, it makes him fuck you even harder just to test how good you can keep quiet for him.

𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔!𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒐𝒏 || 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

banner credit by cafekitsune

[deaddovedecadence]

Title: First Meeting (The Sunshine Verse)

Summary: You come face to face with the leader of the Batclan mob

Warning(s): Possesive behavior, scarring, kidnapping

You don’t remember being drugged, you don’t remember losing track of Lyre, you don’t remember going anywhere and yet you’re here, stuck in an unfamiliar room, a chain on your ankle. You’re unsafe, you know this, and there’s nothing you can do about it. The room is clean, not a speck of dust anywhere, and it smells like lemons, not lemon scented cleaner but real, fresh lemons. You hate it. It's not your first time being kidnapped but usually you’re confined to a dark room or messy, dirty basements that make you want to throw up. This is your first time being kidnapped since joining the force (you had a really unique childhood okay)  and you can’t help but wonder why you've been taken, if someone thinks you'll have real information for that.

Soft, well muffled sounds start up next to the door but quickly fade to silence. You hate it here, the thick silence, the not knowing where your best friend (brother) is, the chain that rests on your ankle. Speaking of the chain, you haven’t tried to walk yet and you can’t help but be curious. Slowly, carefully,, you get yourself out of bed and walk to one of the doors, letting it creak open. It;s only a bathroom. There’s one other door in the room and you’re pretty sure that you know where it leads. Out of here. You start walking towards that door but the chain stops you before you can get too close. Going back a few steps, you make a few loops in the area that seems safe and attempt to run towards the door. Immediately the chains are pulling you back and you slam to the floor. Well whoever has you certainly isn’t an idiot, which makes your job all that much harder. 

Eventually you pull yourself off of the floor and crawl to the bed. As soon as you’ve arranged yourself in a manner that doesn’t hurt too much, you’re asleep. 

“Lyre,” you call, listening to the echoing chirps of the birds, trying to ignore the sounds of “lyre, lyre, not lyre,” to themselves, loud as can be. It’s foggy out today, but not so much that you can’t see in front of you. The walk to work is weird without your best friend, but peaceful, even though the birds are chirping loudly, mocking birds calling Lyre’s name. As you’re approaching the police station, you note the crowd of people, how their murmurs grow and change. They’re all saying his name. You get closer and your best friend (brother) is just laying there, spread out on the pavement, his blood staining everything a terrible shade of red. You kneel down, staring at him. Lyre’s eyes are wide open, unseeing and you can’t help closing them. Your hands are red now. 

You wake up screaming. 

It takes a minute of blind panic for you to calm down and become aware of your surroundings again. You’re in the same room as yesterday and still sore as fuck. The only real change is that there’s a chair in the middle of the room, well more like a throne (you may or may not role your eyes) and a man sitting on the throne. He’s wearing a venetian carnival mask, black with a white bat around each eye. Every gothamite knows it as Sire’s mask. 

You’ve been kidnapped by the fucking bats. Shit! 

“May I help you?” You ask politely as you can manage. Sire’s mask, cold and porcelain keeps smiling,golden even as the man takes off his fucking mask. You’re going to die, you’re going to fucking die. You look down so you can’t see his face. The man sighs.

“You can look up. I have no plans to kill you. Rather I’d like to thank you. You took care of my son while he wouldn’t allow me to.” Now you’re confused. You chance a look up and meet the eyes of bruce fucking wayne, gotham’s biggest  philanthropist. You don’t even know what to say, because the man who’s been credited for saving Gotham is the one keeping it in order as the cruelest man on the east coast.  “I don’t understand Mr.Wayne. I don’t know any of your children.” 

Bruce Wayne smiles faintly, “Not even Jason?” Every single person born and bred in Gotham knows the tragedy of Jason. It’s said that a mobster went after him and killed him, and in revenge Mr. Wayne swore to oust the mob from Gotham city. Knowing what  you know now makes you wonder what really happened. “No offense but I’m pretty sure that Jason is dead.” Wayne laughs bitterly. “We thought so but when your friend Lyre had to go to the hospital,, my doctors found something pretty interesting. A blood match. Would you like to guess who exactly is the match” everything starts to fade out and go dizzy. You were the one that made Lyre go to the hospital because he’s always hated hospitals. “Was it Jason?” 

“It was Jason.” Wayne unless his legs, neatly rearranging himself. “I’d like to tell you a story.” You shrug, looking away. “When my son was a child, he lived on the streets. One day I had a meeting in Crime alley and he was crazy enough to try and steal the tires off my car. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. It’s so much like the Lyre you know that you know, mischievous and carefully reckless, always doing something that he shouldn’t be. What was real? “And when I came back to my car, there was this tiny vicious little boy fighting my guards and fucking winning. I’ve always been fond of stubbornness and there was something about Jason’s desperate desire to survive that stuck me so I brought him home with me. He’s been a member of the family ever since.” 

When Wayne talks about Jason, you’re reminded of a Pet owner talking about their best show animal or something. He’s not talking about them like they’re humans but as if they’re prizes to be won. He sounds like a collector, marveling over his trophies. You can’t help but want to upset this man, can’t help but dislike him. 

“If he was a member of your family, why did he leave you?” Maybe he’ll hurt you, maybe he’ll kill you but either way you’re going to mouth off for lyre. Wayne’s expression doesn’t even change.  “I have six other children,” he explains, “and half of them have anger issues. Do you really think that you’re going to phase me?” 

Your logical mind reminds you to be polite, your desire to live tells you to go apeshit. “That doesn’t answer my question,” you snap, ignoring his question all together. He doesn’t even blink. “Jason left because he didn’t agree with our methods. He did not understand the reasons I allowed my youngest to work in the basement at twelve nor did he appreciate our love. “ You’ve heard the stories from Lyre about his family, about the scars he carries from their love. Now that you've met Wayne you can’t help but wonder how many of those scars are physical. There’s a scars on Lyre’s back, tally marks, five of them to be exact. Are those from here? Are his tattoos from here? 

“When do I get to see Lyre again?” 

Wayne smiles Serenely, and for a moment he doesn’t look like a monster, instead he looks soft, and almost genuine. “When Jason calms down enough to be safe to be around again.” You tilt your head, wonder what he means and carefully do not ask. “Am I stuck in here permanently?” Wayne shakes his head politely. “No you’ll be coming to dinner tonight and Alfred will help you order anything that you might need.” That’s not what you mean. You want to go home. “Can I go home?” “This is your home.” You scoff and bear teeth. “My home is a little apartment by the wharf, not a mansion full of crazy people.” 

Wayne’s smile turns sharp, vicious. “I’d like to remind you that your privileges hedge on your good behavior. It’d be very easy to lock you away until you’re feeling more polite.” You get the feeling that wayne isn’t making a threat. He’s making a promise. 

[hellionscorner]

Til Death do us Part

✨✨🌸🌸🌸First Fic, Darlings-- I apologize if it's too long or maybe some errors I'm still learning this thing🌸🌸🌸✨✨

Warnings: Fem! Reader, Arranged Marriage, “noncon”, Spitting, Tiddy slapping, Toji tossing you around like a doll, Hate Fucking,  Reader is a brat, threats of impregnation

Word count: 2592 ( Long as hell I’m sorry😓)

Toji never saw himself as the settling down type, especially with the line of work he was in. Always on the go, how could he stop every five minutes to cater to some spoiled rotten brat who has just now been revealed to him not even two hours ago for the very first time at the altar?  What made him a little more complacent with the contract was that  his new little wife would have him set for life. He took your last name without a problem. Toji didn’t  give a shit that he was sold for a lowball price because in the end he still won and nothing was going to fuck it up for him. He watches while sprawled out on the bed as you went back and forth from the full body mirror that hung from the wall before going back to the bathroom. 

“They’re expecting you, the prodigal child, to mate with a non-sorcerer?” He scoffs a laugh, finding the whole marriage to be pointless if that were the case, “Don’t they know that may increase the chance of them not getting a sorcerer heir?” 

After a beat you finally respond to him while redoing your lip liner, “They can expect all they want, but unless they physically come in here and hold me down while you mount me like some fucking mutt in heat, they’re going to be expecting for a long while.” you had no problem challenging the elders of your clan and his clan, you knew you were the strongest and wouldn’t mind flexing your strength for them all to see. You had long since changed out of your wedding dress and into a darker dress with high slits on the sides that stopped at her waist, thin string laced criss cross into the material allowing the slits above her thigh to be mere windows for her bare hips, the dress a stark contrast from her wedding gown she had on mere hours ago. 

“You’re feistier than what I gave you credit for.” He chided before standing up somewhat curious as to why you  were taking so long to get ready for bed. Toji stopped dead in his tracks when she stood in the doorway of the bathroom,“You shouldn’t assume things about people, it'll screw you over in the long run.”     

He wasn’t sure where to look first and yet on the outside he refused to show too much of a reaction for someone of the likes of you, but the sight made his thoughts slowly start to shift. Folding his arms across his broad chest he tilts his head slightly as he continues to scan her body, “ Interesting outfit.” 

“Interesting enough to get some free drinks.”

“You’re gonna try to get other men to buy you drinks on our wedding night already?” Toji smirked, doing another once over his bride, his  eyes lingering on the shape of her breasts and how they nearly spilled over the top of her low cut neckline. 

“You really hate me that much, hm?” 

“I’m sure you hate me more.” 

“I do, actually.” He says without a hint of hesitation or doubt, his lips curled up before his tongue darted out to lick his lips. Toji felt a tinge of doubt when he saw the way your brows furrowed together in a glare, he wanted to wipe that defiant look off your face one way or another but he wanted to see how far he could push his bratty wife.

“Even if I hate you, it’s not a very good look. Imagine what the clans could say if they found out that their new bride is already seeking out other men to buy her drinks..” He stepped closer blocking you in the bathroom, “On her wedding night.” 

Your hand finds itself on his chest to maintain some semblance of space between you both, “Oh please spare me that bullshit…you’ve got an endless supply of money now that you are a part of my clan.” 

Toji’s eyes glance at your hand before they fix themselves back on you, “ That’s besides the point here. You’re my wife. You’ll make me look like a damned fool if  I let you leave this house.. Especially dressed like this.” 

“If you let me?” Your hand moves from his chest to fold both of your arms across your chest as you squint up at him, you’ve never needed permission to do whatever you wanted and you sure as hell weren’t going to start asking for it like some docile debutante, “ I don’t need anyone to let me do a goddamn thing.” 

Toji’s eyes darken before his arm reached out grabbing you by the waist and pulling you flush against his body. His chest rising and falling while his blood rushes rampantly through his veins, no woman has ever talked to him like that. He loathed the way her lips pursed as you waited for him to retort back meaning you already figured out what bratty thing you were going to say back to him. Your fucking mouth is infuriating to him and to make matters worse it was turning him on. 

“You should watch that fucking mouth, wife.” his free hand gripped her face forcing you to look up to him as his thumb traced her bottom lip causing it to part to partially reveal  the bottom row of your pretty teeth. Without any hesitation you bite down on his thumb then stomp on his foot. Toji hisses with a grimace from the pain for a brief moment as you slipped out of an opening and ran toward the door. Unfortunately for you, you weren’t too versed in running in heels and Toji had your wrist back in his grasp in no time. Using the opportunity of you losing your balance, he swings you to the bed like you weighed nothing. 

You flipped to your hands and knees scrambled on the blankets to put more space between yourself and your crazy ass husband, he grabs you by your ankle and drags you back to the edge of the bed on your stomach with a low growl. Panting softly you reach back and try to pull your dress back over your bare ass, but Toji snatches your hand away and pins it above your head. You could feel the weight dip into the bed between your thighs. Your eyes squeeze shut trying to keep focus on escaping and not how he handled you like you were a doll. 

Toji settles on his knees in the bed before flipping you onto your back, using that opportunity you attempt to kick him in his head and he of course catches your other ankle gripping one in each hand, “ You like pissing me off, don’t you?” he separates your legs in a ‘v’ moving close enough for your ass to rest on his lap, “ You think it’s funny to be a bad girl?” 

“Bad g-girl? Nngh— get the fuck off!” You squirmed more, reaching up for the pillows and throwing them at him. Toji’s eyes are drawn to your pussy almost immediately, tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip softly.

“ Or what?”  

He leans in closer, his semi-hard cock resting against your glistening cunt, the motion allows him to smell your arousal and it took everything in his power not to roll his eyes back with a groan so he closes his eyes briefly. Toji’s eyes shot open wide when he felt the small warm splatter land on the corner of his lips and his cheek. 

“You little fucking brat,” His tongue darts out tasting you sweet saliva and he growls low snatching your face back into his hand in a bruising grip until your lips parted from each other before he spits in your mouth.  You cough when you unintentionally swallow while thrashing under him. 

“Are you going to be a good girl now?” 

“I fucking hate you!” 

Toji smirk returns and he leans closer, his body practically swallowing yours up, “I hate you more.” he moves his lips to your ear, “And yet, here we are. Married to each other.”  Shocked at how your body reacted to his voice in your ear, you snatch your head away.  He grabs your chin again forcing you to look back at him, “You still got some fight left in you after all and yet..that little body of yours is betraying you by soaking my cock through my pants.”  

Toji shifts and he presses his lower half against your core with a bit more pressure, “I wonder how long it’ll take to break you and be the sweet little wife I know you can be.”  

Your body nearly seized from the contact, “W-What are you doing?”

He smirks at the sound of her voice faltering, he rocks his hips once and chuckles at the way your body tenses from the motion, “What does it look like I’m doing, brat?”  your hips slightly buck against him making his already hardened cock throb, “You still haven’t apologized to me,”Toji moves his hips again in an agonizingly slow pace, “But your cunt is weeping for my forgiveness.” 

Your hips jump again, low whimpers bubble in your chest begging to be let free. He tilts his head slowly watching as your hips move desperately to his slow movements. Deeming it safe to move his hand from pinning your wrists down, he moves his hand to pull the neckline of your dress below your breasts. 

“Don’t you dare hide those fucking moans from me, brat.” Toji’s voice lowered into a growl before delivering a harsh warning slap to your breasts. You yelp and attempt to fix your glare up at him, “You don’t deserve them-” your voice cuts out almost immediately as he ruts harder against you, the head of his cock bumping against your clit. 

“You can say whatever that bratty little brain comes up with…it’s not going to change the fact that your body is begging for me to claim it.” 

“You’re del-delusional!” 

“Mhm, sure.” 

Toji rests your legs on either side of his shoulders and unbuttons his suit pants, lowering them just enough for his cock and balls to be free. The scene above you looked like something out of a wet dream. His disheveled hair, the open dress shirt that exposed his absolutely perfect chiseled body, and the piece of resistance was how your legs looked resting on his broad shoulders with his cock resting right against your needy clit. It felt a hell of a lot different when it was just through his pants…the mere heat between you both was nearly enough to cease any coherent thought you both had. 

“What’s it gonna be,brat?” 

You watch as Toji traces his cock along your wet folds, sucking in a breath you sink your teeth into your bottom lip and let out a quiet whimper bracing yourself. His lips curled into a knowing smirk as watched as you looked up at him expectantly. He wants nothing more than to just get up and leave you to your own devices, but he’d be lying if he said that his cock resting on your cute and drooling pussy wasn’t a sight he’d get on his knees and thank the gods for. Toji could call himself insane for even considering the fact, it’s just you are one of the few women who have managed to get completely under his skin. Why wouldn’t you listen to him? Why were you making it so difficult for both yourself and him? 

His cock throbbed against you, with a low growl he pinches your swollen clit which earned another yelp from you. 

“I don’t hear you begging, wife.” 

“T-Toji Toji!” your cries slurred as your vision blurred with tears, your clit throbbing with need.

“That’s not what I wanna hear and you know it, brat.” 

“Plea-” Toji didn’t give you a chance to utter the entire word before he’s impatiently sliding into your needy cunt with ease and bottoms  out into you with one move, “Ah- Fuck!” your words a pitch higher. The sudden intrusion and fullness in your lower belly  made you dizzy with euphoria. 

“Close enough, brat.” He chuckled, swallowing softly before clenching his jaw to have some semblance of control. The way your eyes rolled back in ecstasy wasn’t making it any easier for him. Toji leans forward until his hips kiss your plump ass and the tops of your thighs pressed against your tits, wanting to get a good view of your face before rolling his hips at a medium pace.

“Ohhhh my goooood!!” your voice vibrated and shook with each hard thrust.

“It looks like I’m earning those sounds aren’t I?” The smugness in his voice is ever so present as  his fingers dug into the  plushness of your thighs pushing your knees further into your chest allowing him to hit a deeper angle into your sobbing cunt. 

Your juices coat his thighs and your ass which only fueled his movements, the way your cunt squeezes around him earned you a low moan from his lips.  One hand goes to splay on your lower back bringing you up to meet his thrusts,  your arms loop around his neck, brushing your lips against his as a test.

Toji’s chest rumbles with a deep chuckle, “ What is it that you want? Ask nicely and I’ll give it to you.” He lied, he knew deep down inside of him you could ask or even demand it from him and he’d give it to you. However, that didn’t mean he was going to go and admit it, yet. 

“Kiss—n-nggh–want a kiss.” You pant out against his lips.

“What happened to please, huh?” 

His complaint is silenced when he feels your tongue against his lips, making his pace falter for a moment.  

“Fucking hell…brat.” He groans quietly before slamming his lips against yours, sliding his tongue inside to fully claim your mouth while picking back up his pace. Your moans rang in his mouth and were absolute music to his ears. Feeling your cunt thrum in sync with your heartbeat, he could tell you were close and he knew he’d be soon after you. 

His hips pump faster into you all while bringing your hips to meet his, the feeling of your nails biting into his skin before dragging them down his chest. It was only fair to claim you in his own little way  as well. With one final hard thrust, his breath stutters feeling his release flood around the length of his cock. Your body shudders immediately reaching your own high from the warmth, his hips rock lazily into you. 

Toji pants softly with his face buried in your neck, almost in disbelief at how quickly he’d lost himself in his bratty little wife. Your head falls back taking a deep breath of cool air, he instinctively runs his tongue up your neck licking the thin sheen of your sweet sweat. 

“Are you done fighting me  or do I need to keep pumping this pretty cunt up until you’re round with my kid?” 

“You’re like a fucking super villain.” You hissed when he takes your nipple between his teeth.

“Damn right I am and you’re fucking bound to me. Til death do us part, sweetheart.” Toji says licking your nipple after releasing it with a laugh.

[ryuzakemo128]

Am I Boring You?

Pairing: Tommy Miller x you / Joel Miller x you

Content Warnings: Fake Relationship (Tommy x you), Angst, Mild Violence, No outbreak alternate universe, age gap (Reader is 25, Joel is in his early 40s and Tommy is in his late 30s), Albino! Goth! Female Reader, Implied Sexual Content, female reader is a big tiddy goth gf, Joel is suspicious of fem reader, wealthy Miller family line, Tommy's secret.

Credit for Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Masterlist - Part one - Part two - Part Three

Words: 1988

Summary: Yeah, I’m managing it now, actually. They’ve been pretty cool with giving me some space. But telling them I’m going to be on a break without mentioning why is going to be weird.”

Joel didn’t know what to expect when it came to you. You weren’t bright like most of the women his younger brother, Tommy, brought around. Wearing dark colours, two different eye colours and albino. A strange mix. An odd mix of a human soul. A mix of black clothes and white standing out against the greenery in the Miller estate.

“I grew up in England. I don’t think they’re going to take this ‘lie’ laying down.” Joel heard from Tommy Miller’s bedroom. “Also, I still have to work at the bar, remember?”

Tommy's response came quickly, perhaps even a little too quick in Joel's opinion, “It'll just be for a few days. Think of it as an… extended vacation.”

“I'll ask my parents if they'll mind.” you replied.

Tommy then asked, “Are you still working at your parent's bar?”

You nodded, your long white hair swaying slightly. “Yeah, I’m managing it now, actually. They’ve been pretty cool with giving me some space. But telling them I’m going to be on a break without mentioning why is going to be weird.”

Joel leaned against the door frame, his eyes narrowing slightly. He didn’t trust the ease with which you fit into this situation. It was almost too perfect, too convenient. He stepped into the room, his boots echoing on the hardwood floor. “What’s in this for you?” he asked bluntly, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Nothing other than hopefully scaring them a little and with a hop, skip and a jump. They don't seem too utterly devastated by his actual choice.” you answered.

Joel studied you for a moment, his gaze intense. You could almost feel the weight of his stare, but you didn’t flinch.

You were used to the scrutiny of strangers, the way people looked at you like you were an oddity. It came with the territory of looking the way you did.

“What’s your angle?” he pressed, his voice low and gruff. “Why are you helping him?”

“What's the matter? Can't deal with the fact that people help out their friends without asking for something in return? Can't deal with that kind of thing or don't want to admit that you can't do something without getting something out of it?” you answered.

Joel’s jaw clenched at the accusation, but before he could retort, you continued, “Look, I get it. Tommy’s your brother and you’re protective. But if he says I’m okay, then I’m okay. Unless you’ve got a better idea to deal with those jerks?”

Tommy, noticing the tension, placed a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Back off, man. She’s just trying to help.”

Joel looked from you to Tommy, his eyes still narrowed. “I don’t know anything about you. How do I know you won’t mess him up more than he already is?”

“Coming from someone who dated a single mother and then cheated on her with her own daughter. I don't think you're in the position to ask such questions. Now, tomorrow or ever. Let alone be allowed to interfere with matters that relate to your younger brother.” you spat, rolling your eyes at him.

Surprise flashed across Joel’s face, and his hand tightened on Tommy’s shoulder.

Tommy stiffened, looking at you with a mix of shock and defensiveness. “What?” he sputtered, turning to Joel.

“Your older brother has a strange habit of breaking women's hearts and fucking around. Then goes whining about why no woman wants to date him because he can't 'control' himself.” you answered before Joel could even get a word in, edge ways.

Joel's surprise morphed into anger as he pushed himself off the door frame, taking a step towards you. “What the hell do you know about my past?” he growled.

“I'm friends with that single mother you dated. Don't get pissy when the truth gets thrown in your face and end up hating the taste of karma on the tip of your tongue. How about you go to therapy and start unpacking that pathetically large ego of yours.”

Joel's eyes widened, and he took a step back, his hand dropping from Tommy's shoulder.

He hadn't expected you to know about his past, let alone throw it back at him so casually.

It was clear you weren't someone to be underestimated. The irony wasn't completely lost on him.

“Now go on pup, go back to your mummy and daddy, tell them your big feelings go hurt and that you need a week to yourself to think about how to deal with it like a grown-up.” You smirked, waving your hand in a dismissive gesture. Joel’s eyes burned with a fiery intensity that sent a shiver down your spine, but you didn’t back down. You wouldn't let a man child demand things when he wants or how he wants it.

With a grunt, Joel turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving you and Tommy in an awkward silence. Tommy looked at you with a mix of bewilderment and admiration. “You know him well.”

“I'm the eldest of three younger brothers. Believe me, I know his type.” You shrugged, trying to lighten the mood. The air was thick with tension, and you didn't want it to ruin the night. Tommy looked at you, his expression a mix of confusion and amusement. “Besides, I manage my parent's bar, so I deal a lot of men like him at that age. So not too terribly surprising.”

Tommy chuckled, a low sound that seemed to break the spell of discomfort that had settled over the room. “You’ve got a point there,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “But he’s got good intentions, you know. Just… complicated ways of showing it.”

“Good intentions are just that, intentions. Until he acts upon them. They remain just that. Intentions. Kind of like saying, Mr. Simmons has good intentions on not being a drunkard. But until he stops drinking, he’s still a drunkard at the end of the day, isn’t he?” You responded, your tone even, your gaze steady on Tommy.

“And if he wants to be a good person, he shouldn't need to call himself a good person.”

Meanwhile, Joel paced around inside his bedroom looking into your background, trying to find any dirt he could use to discredit you.

But all he found were positive reviews from the bar you managed.

A few pictures of you with Tommy.

You were a good manager and a loyal friend.

Nothing that screamed “danger.” He couldn't help but feel like he was the villain in this story, but he refused to let his guard down.

He dug deeper, yet all he found was your unblemished record, your locksmith apprenticeship, and the fact that you were an orphan adopted by a family in England.

The more he searched, the more Joel felt like the asshole he was acting like.

The rage inside him was simmering down into something else entirely.

Something that felt like guilt.

He found out you were a debate captain in high school and that you are now in University part-time for Business Management.

Your side hustles like the mead you sold at the bar were all legal and well documented.

Along with the clothes you made yourself to your own exact size inside the empty room, his parents were more than happy to lend you during your stay. Because they knew how much you struggled with finding clothes that fit your unique size.

The dark-coloured clothes on the racks matched the darkness of your soul, but the room was filled with light from your spirit.

Joel closed the laptop and leaned back on the bed, his eyes on the ceiling. You had a good heart, it seemed, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were hiding something from them. Was it the aloofness or the way you talked? It was something. He knew it.

The next day, Joel tried to keep his distance, watching you interact with the rest of the Miller family during dinner. You were charming, witty, and even had Joel’s parents laughing at your stories of managing the bar and the quirky regulars you had to deal with.

But Joel wasn’t fooled. The sharpness to your words hinted at a steely resolve beneath the surface.

As the night grew later, Joel found himself unable to sleep, his mind racing with thoughts of you. He decided to confront his brother, finding him in the study, nursing a whisky. All the while reading a book to you as you were falling asleep. Oddly enough, it looked peaceful.

“Tommy, we need to talk,” Joel said, his voice tight. Tommy looked up from the book, setting it down gently on the side table next to you. You stirred slightly but didn't wake up.

“What's up?” Tommy asked, standing up to join Joel in the hallway outside the study.

“I don't trust her,” Joel said bluntly.

Tommy frowned, his eyes darting back to the study door where you were sleeping. “What’s not to trust? She’s just trying to help, Joel. Give her a break, okay?”

Joel rubbed his forehead, trying to gather his thoughts. “It’s not that, it’s just… I don’t know. Something feels off. Like she’s got her own agenda here.”

Tommy leaned against the wall, his arms folded. “Look, I know you’re worried about me, but I’ve got this handled. You don’t need to play the overprotective big brother.”

Joel sighed heavily. “It’s not just that, Tommy. It’s the way she talked about me earlier. Like she knows all my secrets, all my shit. It’s eerie.”

Tommy looked at Joel with a knowing expression. “Maybe she’s just smarter than you give her credit for. Or maybe she’s just honest. Sometimes the truth hurts, but that doesn’t mean she’s hiding something.”

Joel clenched his jaw, not ready to let it go. “And what’s with the fake relationship? Why are you guys playing this game?”

"Because of our fucking parents wanting me to marry a rich blonde lady you fucked. Shut up and go fuck someone else like you always do. I hate it when you get in my face and take everything I have. Get lost." Tommy snapped at him.

Joel’s eyes widened, realizing the depth of the situation he’d stumbled into. “Tommy, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was that bad,” he said, his voice softer now.

"Shut up and go to someone who cares about cleaning up your bullshit." Tommy wasn't having it anymore.

You stirred in your sleep, the tension in the room was palpable. You had a feeling Joel was out there, lurking like a dark shadow waiting to jump out and attack. Tommy looked at you, his eyes apologetic. You sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," Tommy said, a bit too quickly. You could tell he was lying. You knew Joel was out there, and he was likely the cause of the disturbance.

"Lets go to bed and chill out. We can solve it tomorrow." You cooed into Tommy's ear.

Joel looked at you and then at his brother before finally backing off. Tommy nodded, looking relieved and led you back to his room.

You laid down and wrapped yourself around him, your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. It was calming.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that,” Tommy murmured, stroking your hair gently. “He doesn’t mean to be such an asshole.”

“Hey. At this point let karma run its course.” you calmly soothed, your voice muffled by his shirt.

Tommy’s heart thumped a little harder under your ear, and you felt the tension in his body slowly ease.

You knew Joel wasn’t all bad, just confused. “Anything he says or does will say more about his character than it does about yours.”

Tommy sighed, his arms tightening around you. “You’re right,” he murmured. “I just don’t want him to ruin this for me.”

Note: Sarah is still alive in this universe. I plan to give her a cameo or at least a chapter around her and her father sometime.

[player1064]

gary goes into business instead of broadcasting post-retirement. carra still goes into puditry. they don't know each other/end up as friends.

they both end up on the same season of I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here and fall in love. this is highly apparent to the entire audience.

I've not done a request fic in like two months bc I've been so zoomed in on the beville fic but I wanted to write something quick and silly and yes this request has been sitting in my inbox for more than THREE months but dont worry i did not forget about it I haven't forgotten about ANY of u.

and this really is quick and silly it is Mostly dialogue bc idk how else to convey the Vibes of im a celebrity but I had soooooo much fun with this dkjfgdfjsgkk...

---

 “I’m Gary Neville, I’m a businessman but I’m probably best known for my football career, playing 602 games for Manchester United and earning 85 caps for England.”

“What am I doing in the jungle? Mid-life crisis, I suppose.”

“I’m no stranger to public humiliation – just look at my coachin’ career! My only worry is the food – I do love a dairy milk, to be fair.”

*

“I’m Jamie Carragher, and I’m best known as a football pundit with Sky – am I allowed to say other broadcaster’s names on here? – and for winning the Champions’ league with Liverpool.”

“I’ve always said the jungle is the only reality show I’d consider doin’, so I guess it’s time to put me money where me mouth is.”

“Scared? Eh, no, I don’t think there’s many challenges I wouldn’t do. You don’t get to where I’ve got without that drive to win.”

*

Jamie walks into camp, takes one look at the group of people stood in front of him, and almost considers walking straight back out. Would that work, saying the catch-phrase outside of one of the challenges? ‘I’m a celebrity, get me away from Gary fucking Neville?’

“Jesus Christ,” Gary mutters. “Don’t you ‘ave some children to spit at or somethin’?”

“Don’t you ‘ave a football team to coach – oh no, sorry, they both fired you.”

“How the fuck are they lettin’ you take three weeks off in the middle of season? What’re people gonna do when they want to listen to two hours of Scouse gibberish?”

The rest of the campers watch on, no longer even attempting to come and introduce themselves to Jamie.

“And how’s your club gonna manage without yous, eh? What if they need someone to fire another manager?”

*

“Yeah, I uh… is it mean to say I hope one of them gets voted off soon? Don’t get me wrong, they’re both perfectly nice guys, but…”

[yelling heard from outside the hut]

“…Yeah.”

*

The first pairs challenge, shockingly, goes off without a hitch.

This is not a surprise because the challenge was particularly difficult – it’s early days, they’re still easing everyone in – but because of who the public had voted to complete it. Because the public is the public, and they’re nothing if not predictable.

“All twelve stars! I’m pretty pleased w’that, you know.”

“Typical fucking Neville, taking the credit for his partner’s hard work.”

 “Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t seem to recall you crawling about in the mud to get the –”

“—I was the one doin’ all the heavy lifting!”

“Of course you were doin’ the heavy lifting, look at the fuckin’ size of you!”

“Ugh.”

Jamie storms off camera and back into camp, leaving behind a bewildered looking Gary.

“He’s a bit of a diva, in’t he?”

*

“The first few days? Erm, it’s been goin’ alright, I think. I’ve been told I’m not always the easiest person to get on with, so it’s a pleasant relief that the others seem to – I mean, obviously not all of the others, but – but he’s –”

*

“Oh, I’m loving camp. Missing the gym a bit –” for emphasis, Jamie slaps his bicep – “but the food’s not as bad as I were expectin’, and the banter is sound – we’re all great friends already –”

“—well, no, but you can’t count him. He’s so weird, ‘ave you seen him? Like a little robot, doin’ everything exactly the same every day.”

*

“Another pairs challenge…”

“I don’t get why people keep voting for us to do these trials. You’re useless at ‘em anyway, do they want to see us starve?”

“Maybe I’d be able to get more done if you didn’t always insist on bossing me around, James. Can barely hear myself think over that Scouse screech of yours, it’s a wonder me eardrums haven’t burst yet.”

“It’s a wonder nobody’s killed themselves in the boredom of having to listen to you drone on and on all day. Did I actually hear you talkin’ about the stock market the other day?”

“The stock exchange, oh my god. It’s my hotel, which you’d know if you took part in any conversation that’s not about you.”

*

“I can’t believe they let you have that.”

Jamie looks with pride down at the football he’d chosen as his luxury item, then drops it and kicks it towards Gary’s head. It’s wide by about a metre.

“Oi! If you were a half decent footballer that could’ve actually hurt me, you twat.”

“’least mine can benefit everyone in camp, what even is yours?”

“Fidget toy, innit. My niece got me into them, gives me something to do with my hands.”

“You’re a strange little man, you know that right?”

Gary, who’s still positioned closest to the football, picks it up and lobs it into the trees surrounding camp.

*

“Come have a kickabout with me?”

Gary looks around but there’s nobody else sat nearby. “Me?”

“No, Cristiano Ronaldo. Of course you, who else would I be askin’?”

“Literally anyone else here?”

“It’s not as fun when you’re better than everyone else –”

“—ah, so you admit I’m a better footballer than you!”

“That’s not what I said!”

*

“What are you actually doin’ in here? ‘cause no offence, Gary, but you don’t really seem the reality show type.”

“Dunno. Was having a rough week when the email came through, thought it might be nice to get away from everythin’ for a bit.”

“’and you, Jameh?’” Jamie says in a squeaky parody of a Manc accent. “Oh, thanks fer askin’, Gaz. I was worried I was goin’ soft, now that I’ve been retired for so long. Wanted to prove to myself I can still be a winner.”

“Still? When were you ever a winner before?”

“I’ve won a Champions’ League, I’ll have you know!”

“I’ve won two!”

“Have you fuck.”

*

“Who’s your letter from, then? Missus?”

“No, my brother,” Gary says absently, then he looks up from his letter with a frown. “I don’t have a missus, what’re you on about?”

“Don’t you? I could’ve sworn, in Baden Baden with the WAGs –”

“You’re basing your knowledge of my relationship status on a tournament we played in more than fifteen years ago?”

“You realise you’re literally wearing a wedding ring.”

“And you’re not. Any other observations you’d like to make? Sky is blue, maybe?”

“Normally people wear wedding rings to show they’re married.”

“Maybe some people wear them to avoid annoying questions. Anyway, Philip says that I’m coming across very well so far and that ITV has received hundreds of complaints from people who can’t understand your accent.”

“He did not fucking write that, give it here –”

*

“Am I getting along better with Jamie? I dunno, I never had a problem with him to be fair, it’s him that’s always –”

*

“Friends? With Gary? Behave. Have we managed to go a single day so far without him shoutin’ at me for somethin’ I did, or somethin’ I didn’t do right, or for – for breathing in the wrong direction. Christ, I’ve never met anyone this fussy. He’s too easy to wind up.”

*

“He must be doin’ it on purpose, surely nobody is that thick – I mean, is it so hard to stack a couple of dishes when you’ve finished washing them?”

“Well, no, yeah, he did stack them, but did you see – they were all out of order, there’s no stability – they’re certain to all fall and break in the night thanks to him.”

*

All the effort that goes into the Dingo Dollars task and all the camp has to show for it is a single square of chocolate each. Gary nibbles carefully at his, trying to preserve it for as long as possible.

Jamie gets up and goes to sit beside him.

“Here.”

“Wha?”

“Here, I don’t like sweets.”

“You don’t – what kind of a psychopath don’t like sweets?”

“Will you just take the bloody chocolate before I change my mind.”

*

“You’re limping. Why are you limping?”

“Done my ankle in the last trial.”

“Trust you to get injured doin’ a trial. What’d you do, you slip or somethin’?”

“Why don’t you ask your mate, he’s the expert on slipping.”

“Ha ha. But really, Gary – you alright?”

“I’m fine, Carra, ‘s not even strained. Just a bit achy. Twenty years as a professional athlete will do that to you.”

“Give it here.”

“You what?”

“Give it here, I do an okay massage. Maybe that’ll stop yer whining.”

“I literally didn’t say a word until you brought it up.”

*

“I don’t know, he’s – ugh, he’s…”

“He’s not what I expected. I dunno. He’s just not what I expected.”

*

“D’you know how many times me and Gary played a full ninety together with England? One. We only ever played one full match on the same side, and it was shite.”

“It always felt like there was only room for one of us, so I just – I fucking hated him. ‘cause it wasn’t me the managers were picking, was it?”

*

“Carra?” Gary whispers

“What.”

“Carra, I can’t sleep.”

“Don’t give a fuck.”

“Jamie.”

Jamie reluctantly sits up in his camp bed, squints at Gary in the dark. “What.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“You already said that.”

“I want to go for a walk, clear my head.”

“Good for you.” Jamie lies back down and pulls his sleeping bag over his face.

“Jamie.”

“I swear to God, Gaz…”

“Yer not gonna make me go out there alone, are ya? It’s the middle of the night.”

“What are you, twelve? Fine, just give me a minute to find my shoes.”

*

“It’s very dark, isn’t it?”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

They hadn’t ended up walking very far, just to the log benches in the next clearing over before agreeing the risk of tripping over tree roots was too high and sitting down to just talk instead.

“My internal clock’s all thrown off, we’ve been here nearly two weeks and I still can’t get the hang of it. At home to be fair I’m normally in bed by ten, half ten.”

“I remember, from England. You and Phil were such geeks, weren’t you?”

“Most capped brothers in England, thank you very much.”

“D’you miss him?”

“Nah. Don’t get to see ‘im much anyway, to be fair. He’s off in America, Trace is out here, they’re both just – getting on with it, aren’t they? I prob’ly miss my house more’n anything else.”

“Your house… not your friends? Not football?”

“I like my house! It’s got everythin’ just the way I like it.”

“Alright, alright. Fine, you can miss your house.”

“Wha’d’you miss? Your kids? The missus?”

“I dunno really… kids are both all grown up now, missus went back to being a ms a long time ago.”

“Oh.”

“Is what it is. Anyway, I miss football even if you don’t, honest to God, what kind of a footballer are ya? I wish someone would slip me this week’s standings, feel like I’m going insane tryin’ to imagine all the results.”

“Should’ve said something sooner, twat. I can tell you how the league’s going.”

“You can?”

“Yes. Manchester United are on a – how many games’ve we missed now? – they’re on a three game winning streak and have shot to the top of the league.”

“Oh yeah? What about Liverpool?”

Gary tuts and shakes his head. “Relegation zone, I’m afraid.”

“We were top of the table when I came in ‘ere!”

“Well, you know what they say – anything can happen in football, can’t it?”

“You’re right, what’s that… I’m getting reports from Old Trafford that Salah’s just scored a hat-trick, Stretford end as well –”

“You twat! As if your Liverpool could win away against United, you’re dreaming!”

*

“Erm, yeah… it’s good to be going home, ‘course it is. Glad I wasn’t the first voted out, hah, I actually think I’ve done alright in ‘ere.”

“Yeah, no, it’s been a brilliant experience to be fair. I never thought I’d make such good friends – yeah, even him. I know, I’m as surprised as you are! Anyway, I’m wishin’ them all the very best of luck in the semi-finals.”

 *

“I mean, I know fourth place isn’t bad, but I do think I deserved to get to the finals. I’ve worked harder than anyone else here, so –”

“Well yeah, ‘course, it’s up to the public, so – if it’s my time then it’s my time.”

“What’ll I be doin’ when I get to the hotel? Dunno. Check my messages first, probably!”

“What, Gary? I saw ‘im yesterday, it’s not like I’m missin’ him already! Might get ‘im to buy me a pint, though, least he could do after I had to put up with him for three weeks.”

[therealbeachfox]

"So Outlaws should’ve been doomed from the start, and almost was. The thing that saved it though, strangely enough, was that fucking décor.

For those of you who never set foot inside one while they still existed (and good on you, you are truly wise) and don’t want to sit down with any of those old YouTube “Live Commentary of my Outlaws Trip Experience” videos (also good on you. No one has enough life-span to be wasting any of it on crap like that), it can be hard to describe. You had your cow skulls painted with American flags and wearing giant rhinestoned purple cowboy hats. You had guitars with red and black lightning bolts and flashing LEDs hidden inside. You had railroad crossing signs covered with barbed wire, shotguns with screaming eagles painted across the barrels in gold paint, and on and on and on.

Just… Truly godawful shit.

But this was Gotham, and that décor did not last long. I mean, around here most restaurants know better than to cover their walls with easily snaggable crap like that. It’s just free shit as far as most of the late-night customers are going to be concerned, especially when your business model is so heavily focused on the 20-somethings and teenagers with good fake IDs demographics like Outlaws was.

But this was Gotham, so we didn’t just steal all that shit, oh no. See, here’s what the rest of you don’t get about Gotham. It’s not that we’re all a bunch of amoral murderous criminals. Sure, our per-capita rate of those is truly unsettling compared to the rest of the country, but they’re still very much the minority. No, what makes a Gothamite truly a Gothamite is the utter gleeful perversity we take whenever we’re gonna be a shit. It can manifest in all sorts of ways (Just look at our own Bruce Wayne, who manifests his as pure ‘fuck the rich’ energy, setting his money on fire, pratfalling into fountains, and then grinning at all the other rich-people who have to put up with his bullshit because despite it all he’s still way richer than they’ll ever be.), but very often it manifests in not doing crime in a straight-forward manner, but insisting on being a little fucking bitch about it.

So people didn’t just steal that gaudy bullshit wall art; they replaced it.

The cow-skulls got switched out for manikin heads, still wearing the same gaudy cowboy hats. Then the hats were exchanged for headwear that was even weirder. Railroad signs were taken away, even with the barbed wire, and for awhile the walls were plastered with “Warning! Live Mines!” signage left over from No-Man’s. That terrible LED-illuminated lightning guitar was replaced with a full-ass gargoyle someone managed to pry off one of the smaller spires of St. Marie’s, and I really fucking wish I could claim credit for that one, but I have no idea who did it much less -how-. "

(494 words from chapter one of TCAKMJT) I would love to know about how you came up with the idea of Outlaws, because I (non-american) had to actually search up if it existed or not!

Hoo boy! Going from 0 to 60 right out the gate on this one!

*deep breath*

Outlaws (the restaurant) is what happens when I'm allowed to let an idea peculate for the better part of a year in the back of my head.

While I was in the process of pulling together Conrad the Crime Alley Kid from the various in-character comments I'd made on TaxiCabToSlowtown's "Am I the Bathole" series, TaxiCab was busy making their own version of the (at the time) nameless not-hench, which turned into How to Get (a) Partner(s) Through Reddit. In it, the big mask-off reveal that Red Hood was Jason Todd was made in the back alley behind a nameless East End bar with Starfire and Arsenal in attendance, and just as with Jason's screen name being TheFredHood, I knew I had to borrow/steal/homage that for my own version as well.

When I got to that point.

*Spongebob voice* 11 months later.

So during all the time I was working on the earlier stories, I had this scene churning away in the back of my head. The first thing I -knew- I had to do was name the bar they met at Outlaws. Because I strongly feel like Jason and pals would be unable to resist grabbing 1 AM burgers and beer while plotting out their next technically-not-a-crime-spree from a place called -Outlaws-.

However, Outlaws lead my mind to Outlaw Country music and all of its assorted motifs and flair, and I floundered around on how to reconcile my version of Red Hood voluntarily eating at a place like that. But that was fine, I had a bunch of other shit to write ahead of figuring out how to handle that.

A bit into all this, I came across the Skrunkfest post series, and my brain promptly shoved it into the Outlaws box and went "Eh? Eh??" at me while waggling its eyebrows, but it still wasn't jelling.

A bit after -that-... I can't remember a specific post or image or thing I read triggering it, but that doesn't mean there wasn't one, but I had the sudden mental image of a western-cyberpunk bar with the fog-machine ambiance and weird lighting, and walls covered with Batman villain gear with green and purple fairy lights strung through them, and just a total Skrunkfest style vibe as you got served at a grungy funky bar with a cracked Red Hood helmet mounted between one of Harley's hammers and a razor-wire wrapped "No Man's Land - Landmine Warning" signpost. And went "Okay. Something like -that-."

So by the time I sat down to start writing that story for reals, I had the mental image of "Outlaws: A kitchzy Western/Outlaw Country restaurant/bar turned Gotham Skrunk/Villain den." and began writing it based around that concept sketch.

Small digression: I usually write my stuff multiple times. I write the chapter, get out everything I feel needs to be in there. Then I put that to the side of the screen, and start writing it again from scratch. Now that I'm not coming up with the ideas fresh, I can write them... smoother? More detailed and more comfortable. Taking a sander and sculpting knife to it all. I honestly usually repeat this process two or three times before moving onto reworking stuff within the document instead of making a new one.

All that to say, the first... three? versions of the chapter still weren't working for me. Then I remembered: Oh wait, I don't need to have Conrad give a mental description of the place as he walks through the door, I have social media posts!

And it was while rewriting that whole section as Conrad's online review-slash-teardown that the full Outlaws experience jelled into being.

Outlaws, pre-Gothamization, is everything about American chain restaurants I hate. And everything I hate about the 2000's faux patriotismgasim that overtook and consumed Country music then swaggered around in it's skinned hide.

On the restaurant front, I started with the "Stick everything on the walls" philosophy you get out of Cracker Barrel or *deep sigh* Red Robin. I don't know how common this... concept is outside of the USA, but it's basically taking the contents of some barn's storage shed and just nailing it all to the walls. "Crazy Crap on the Wall decor", pastiche americana, faux Americana, "like a telekinetic went crazy at a flea market", there's no common name for it.

Basically, taking that concept, and blending it with all the insane-ass "We're calling ourselves Outlaw Country, but we've got million dollar budgets for this show tour" stuff I've seen over the years, shoving in the weird over-abundance of sauces that all taste different variations of sickly sweet you get out of places like Buffalo Wild Wings, and just everything that comes from the "A bunch of venture capitalists with too much money decide to just brute force a new dining institution by opening 80 branches all at once and money-bombing an advertising spree across every form of media at once" phenomenon.

So that left me with the original Outlaws, and I knew what I wanted the final results to look like. Then once I was writing Conrad writing about it all, the exact progression of how the former became the latter finally came together.

Ta-Dah!

Honestly, the Outlaws restaurant has one of the highest number of contributing concepts out of anything I've come up with so far. Which, again, is what happens when you get an entire year to just let something brew in the back of your head.

And I'm glad that it felt real enough to have to google because there are honestly so many places like this. I just sort of smooshed them all together and bumped the dials to max because comics!

[xxtha-blog]

Accidentverse/Admixverse Update

As someone who worked on Accidentverse/Admixverse as one of the character designers once the first team member left, and as friends of one of the creators, it genuinely upsets me to find out the creator who left years ago seems to think its appropriate to ‘share the characters with the community’ and create ‘official redesigns’ and let people solely credit him with the AU/AM. He has me blocked so I only found out just now, but the Au was not abandoned and the AU did not belong solely to them (They also recognize this but I will explain why I think they’re overstepping their level of ownership here). They were given ownership of Silence and departed from the complete rebranding over 3 years ago. To come back, say you’re taking over, and go ‘actually I’m giving the characters back to the community’ is disrespectful regardless of personal grievances. The AU is not owned solely by them and have no right to say what can and can’t be done with it simply because the other creators aren’t present anymore. While one creator genuinely has left as far as I know (though he still made Vanta??), and I’ve cut contact with them, the other has made no public statement as to whether they want the Au to continue or have any intentions of giving it to the community or someone else and that’s a decision that should be respected.

I’m all for the story continuing. I don’t care if the story is continued by said old creator. But to say “ I know all too well that I alone won’t be able to the story justice, and I want to be different from AV’s previous owners: who simply locked their AU away in their need for perfectionism and didn’t allow for anyone to use the characters, which was eventually what killed Admixverse entirely.” and “I’m allowing anyone within the community full permission to use Vanta and Silence (and any other future characters) in their own works– whether it’s for roleplay or including them in their own projects.“ is disrespectful, and also untrue.

1. That was not why the AU was ‘abandoned’. I’ve never once heard my friend (creator) say they strive for perfection with it. This is made up nonsense.

2., there has been no indication what the main owner wants to do with it as they’re taking a break. If they abandoned it, that is fine. That still does not mean Drye can make the rules for the characters multiple people have ownership of.

3. Vanta. Is not. Drye’s character. I get that the original owner had fucked up things come to light, but co-opting his character as your own, as though you have ownership of it, isn’t how things work. You can’t just take someone else’s character and decide what to do with it. Silence? Fine. They were given permission to take him and go, but Vanta never was their character and quite frankly I’m not sure taking ownership of the character of a groomer is a great hill to die on.

4. When a project is owned by multiple people like this, and especially when one of those members officially departs from the team and relinquishes the AU to the other members, to come back suddenly going ‘actually I’m a creator of the original and since I haven’t seen the other creators in a while, it’s mine to give back to the community now.’ is kind of messed up.

Again, I’m perfectly fine with the story being continued! If he wants to continue the story, that is fine. I also recognize he is not literally saying he 100% owns the AU, but he is ‘trying to give the community more ownership of the AU’, an AU he left years ago, of which people still own and multiple of my friends have worked on and have designs for. He just fundamentally cannot make that call. If he wants to redesign the AU, either say it’s your own version and rename it, or keep the old version and say credit when using the characters still goes to the @admixverse-official blog, not yourself. The blog still exists despite what they say! To say what I highlighted in italics solely because one creator isn’t producing content anymore is nonsense. Drye does not own Admixverse. He worked on it. There was a fallout. He left. The AU was completely revamped under the Admixverse name, a name which he NEVER worked under, a name which me and my friends helped come up with, yet has decided to also use. He refused to let Silence and his art be used, which was respected despite it being a collabaration when the fall out happened, yet now it’s theirs to officially bring back without any permission or agreement? He is overstepping a general decency for other creators here, and despite having me blocked, as a fellow team member to the project who also owns some of the designs (though he’s not using them even though they are the current official ones), that’s extremely frustrating to hear. Why don’t I also own Admixverse now? I didn’t leave the team, I redesigned its main character less than a year ago! But I think we can all agree it’d be pretty silly for me to pretend I have any rights to give anything about the AU to the community solely because I made designs and generated ideas for it. I am simply a member of the team who also worked on the project (only I never left lol). Anyways, tl;dr, I’m perfectly fine with the AU being considered or redesigned in Drye’s vision, but it needs to be done in a way respectful to the official Admixverse that was continued years after he left, and its original creators. This means either actually talking to the original creator to get permission, properly crediting, stating this is a new version and not the ‘Official redesigns′ and not making up stuff about the old creator’s motivations for not working on the project, because shockingly, abandoning a project does not mean its fair game now.

[joyswonderland1108]

🙃

I know i said that my biases are Jimin and JK but i never said i wasn’t a big fan of 3J which means that if Hobi is being disrespected imma snap your head in half!

Every time i come here to talk about something nice there’s a whole mess going on that at this point my blog is turning to a rant blog ffs. When did this fandom become like this? When did the toxicity became huge to the point where you can’t go a day without something disgusting being spread online? 

So by now everybody knows that Hybe posted an announcement about Hobi’s upcoming enlistment that he started the procedure already, we saw that coming but it’s still upsetting of course, we still felt sad knowing how real it’s becoming that Hobi is leaving for MS too. So we’re trying to come to terms with it and another announcement only this time it’s a happier one:

We were also able to see our Sunshine live 

(Credits to Dalto on Twitter)

Now i believe you see where this is going right? So Hope on the street is a single set to be released on March 3rd, key word here : SINGLE. One song. But of course dickheads have a thing to say right? Saying how he is interfering with Jimin’s solo if he couldn’t release it before why choose now bla bla bla rat language.

I’ve mentioned in my previous post that even one song can take a while let alone many, some artists spent 2 3 years on one song, it’s called perfectioning it, working on every possible flaw so that the end result is something that lets the artist feel satisfied with the hard work he put in it. So to answer the “why didn’t he release it before?” simply because he couldn’t “why won’t he release it later?” simply because he can’t. 

Now saying that he’s interfering with Jimin’s solo.. There are 20 days between March 3rd and March 24th (not including both dates) and again am going back to the key word, it’s a SINGLE it’s only one song how tf is that interfering with Jimin’s solo? There’s enough time to give attention to Hope on the street and also be ready for FACE.

It’s actually funny to see people try to make it a competition between none other than Jihope like.. Be so fr right fucking now! It’s not like y’all are legally blind to not notice how close those two are, they’re besties, and more than anything they are happy for each other so for a bunch of low-life strangers trying to put their 2 useless cents of thoughts on the matter.. y’all just shut the fuck up

Now if Hobi just decided to enlist without dropping anything, people would be saying how he’s not appreciating Army he just left like that or why did he wait all that time to enlist if he doesn’t have more work to do or or or.. Of course there’s always something to complain about, this fandom is never satisfied and would you look at that, the boys still think about this stupid fandom and dedicate their work to them. 

Honestly there should be a whole separate new fandom for our boys, a private one that is, Vip or whatever you wanna call it, like you can’t get into that fandom unless you pass the morals test, the personality test, etc.. Army be fighting with that other fandom (not mentioning the name but y’all already know who, no hate to the girlies they’re cool, can’t say the same thing about their fandom tho) when they’re no better, creating shit INSIDE the fandom to begin with. 

It’s seriously getting tiring and sickening how people were just allowed to become this hateful, it’s like they forget that they got into this fandom that was started because of BTS like.. THE WHOLE BAND! Yes these 7 men are all different and unique but they’re also part of the same band whether you like it or not and if they wanted to go solo like many of y’all are dying for it to happen they would’ve done it a while ago it’s not the first time idols leave their band to go on a solo journey. If y’all have no respect for these boys as a band at least have respect towards your favs and what they want, what they wish for and the people they love. 

[twilightknight17]

The Promised Day - Part 3

Man, I left this for a while. God. Too much to do, too little time, and work is fucking exhausting. But let’s talk about the ending, finally.

Where last we stood, the Great Seal was cast, and everything faded to white.

Probably the closest any of you will ever get to seeing the Sea of Souls.

It’s crushing, how upset they are that everyone made it but one person. Honestly, I get the sense that any number of casualties would have been too much. This was an all-or-nothing fight. It was supposed to be that everyone goes home, or no one does.

But no, the one person they lost was their leader. In the end, there was nothing they could do.

…….it’s not the Sea of Souls, it’s the Universe. Oh god. Of course he can hear them.

Stop talking like you and Nyx are the same. T_T You’re not!

He does sound proud of them, though.

SEES is returned to the front of the school, Tartarus dissolves into light, and Minato walks out of the now-normal building so that everyone can hug him and cry all over him. If I didn’t know how this ends, I’d be really mad about ten minutes from now.

I do like that, after the timeskip, this version of the ending starts the exact same way as the other one, since they still don’t have their memories in this version.

Man oh man am I popular, though. This isn’t even all my social links, and look how many people want to talk to me!

It’s morbidly hilarious that this game literally started the trend of “walk around and talk to everyone the day before the ending”, but Minato’s the only modern protag who wasn’t going to leave. Not by choice, anyway.

You and your girlfriend can’t both have amnesia, my guy. Get it together.

We find out that Kenji is excited because apparently there are going to be three new teachers next year, and they’re all hot. So he has learned nothing. Lots of social links sent letters, because the end of their link was literally them leaving town.

(Minato wasn’t going to leave, everyone else was. Inverse Persona ending. X’’’D)

The Gourmet King is gone (no tears here). Maiko’s dad says she’s doing well but also says I’m absolutely not allowed to marry her. We’re able to give Akinari’s mom the notebook with his story in it. Mamoru and Kaz are doing fine. Bebe, tragically, has decided not to come back to Japan right away. He’s gonna stay with his uncle for a while so they can grieve his aunt together.

Ms. Toriumi is taking the accidental revelation that I’m her MMO buddy very well.

God I laughed so hard.

All the cats I saved from Tartarus are vibing in the back alley!

I think I saved eight total? I wonder if there’s more. Secret cat ending. Fill the whole alley.

And…

...can I listen to my music box now? Please. T_T

As Mitsuru makes her graduation speech, SEES starts to remember, and rushes for the roof, where Aigis and Minato are already skipping the ceremony.

That’s a long time.

I ended up dating Aigis just because I actually maxed her link, and I think the only other girl I maxed was Yuko? Maybe? And Maya, but that wasn’t a romance option, which I still think is weird.

So, the credits. They, uh, didn’t have to do that. Like, it’s brilliant. Having his silhouette sinking deeper and deeper and gradually fading away to represent him doing the same. He vanishes completely and only then does it end, and we get to see SEES reach the roof just barely too late. Beautifully done, Atlus, I started tearing up, how dare you. X’D

And then the main menu is no longer the Dark Hour.

So, overall, other than some nitpicks, I think this was a really solid game. But as a modern remake of a preexisting game, I think they could have gone further. Why NOT just make your male teammates possible social links? Why NOT include Hamuko? Why NOT include The Answer with the base game? Why lie and say you want the “core” (read: original base game) P3 experience, but then add new things?

Why make Ryoji tell you he wants to be more than friends and then not give you a third dialogue option?!?!?

(I know the answer is money. It’s always money. I am just salty.)

But I could forgive more of that if they hadn’t nerfed the final boss. I did some googling, and pinpointed some other things about the Nyx Avatar fight that didn’t line up. Before, he could attack twice per turn. This one can’t. They gave the Death Arcana an extra thousand health, but the old version automatically took half-damage from EVERYTHING except almighty. They took away Moonless Gown, and therefore took away his ability to become invulnerable. Apocalypse can reduce your HP to 1%, but if he’s not attacking twice per turn, someone always has time to heal, so who even cares?

(Shoutout to the Fandom wiki for being like, “It is strongly encouraged to heal when it uses this skill”. No shit, guys. Wow.)

And yeah, they buffed his spells up a level, but ultimately, all the things that might have actually made the boss genuinely hard got nerfed.

It kind of sucks. They gave him a cool new color scheme for the final arcana and then weakened him. Why even.

Anyway, gonna do NG+ on hard mode to finish all social links and the compendium, and also probably going to do something really stupid like solo the Avatar with my level 99 Minato and Thanatos just for giggles.

Because hell yeah. :D

[wumiings]

Okay but what if Merlin had openly used his magic in 1x10??? That would have been so great actually because like. The others in his village have always been so wary of him both because he’s a bastard and because they suspect he has magic, so for him to turn up and deliberately use the very gifts they shunned him for to save them would absolutely shake up their mindsets a bit. Now instead of a Heroic Prince (from a different kingdom) swooping in and saving the day, proving that royals can be Good Actually, it’s reinforcing the idea of magic as the great equalizer — something that allows common folk to look after themselves and grow less reliant on monarchy.

Let’s say Arthur is still There (though a version of this where he doesn’t come along also works). Merlin is initially hesitant about using magic in front of him, but after his talk with Will, he’s resolved to not hold himself back on Arthur’s account. Will still gets injured; Merlin heals him and explicitly takes credit for the sorcery. When Arthur get pissed about it, Merlin reminds him that they’re in Cenred’s kingdom and Arthur doesn’t have the authority to execute him (since he technically has no proof that Merlin used magic in Camelot). In the end, Arthur banishes Merlin from Camelot but makes no other move to harm him.

So now Merlin is free. He has his family, a community that’s more welcoming than its ever been before, a book of spells to study (and potentially teach others), and nearly a year’s worth of wild stories about what the fuck goes on in Camelot. Gwen and Morgana both know where he is and can send letters/come visit if they want, which also means that when Morgana’s powers starts manifesting, she knows at least one person she can reach out to for support who isn’t affiliated with the Pendragon regime.

Maybe he travels. Maybe he seeks out the druids for more education on magic and/or the prophecies. Maybe he tracks down Lancelot, or runs into some of the other errant knights (Gwaine, Elyan, etc). Maybe he meets and frees Freya, or finally gets some answers about his heritage and tracks down Balinor. Literally any of the above are on the table.

Eventually, Uther dies. (Actually, it probably doesn’t take that long. He would die like two episodes later.) Arthur is king— untested and vulnerable and far too young, but with so much potential if he can just survive long enough. And at some point, there is some magical attack on the citadel because of course there is, and Gaius once again tells his king that the threat can only be defeated with magic. And after all else fails (because there’s no one to secretly solve the problem with magic and let everyone think it just resolved itself somehow) and all hope is nearly lost, Arthur gives in and reaches out to the one (1) sorcerer he knows who may actually be willing to help him, if only for the sake of his other friends in the city.

Naturally, Merlin agrees, but he outright refuses to keep his involvement a secret. The people of Camelot are going to know that it was a warlock who saved them, not the renowned Knights of Camelot. They’re going to have to think about what that means regarding everything they’ve been taught to believe about magic. And, of course, they’re also going to know that Arthur was not too proud to turn to sorcery if it meant protecting his people, even though it calls into question his father’s legacy of magical persecution.

The Golden Age is built on the open negotiation and collaboration of magic and non-magic, not to mention nobility and peasantry. And the “union” of Albion isn’t about conquest but rather strong alliances built between nations as the benefits of maintaining a healthy relationship with magic become obvious to more and more people.

Yes, one day Arthur will die and be laid to rest in Avalon to await an age when his strength and wisdom is once again required. Yes, Merlin will live through the centuries, traveling and learning and watching humanity grow, assisting wherever he can instead of endlessly grieving and waiting for Arthur’s return. For now, though, they can all just take life one challenge at a time.

[whentherewerebicycles]

SORRY i have to do dear diary: work problems edition under the cut again

so on monday i volunteered to do this small project with the HR team to wrap up a massive project i’d led earlier (although of course it was one that my lead took over in the last 2% of work and now claims as her own achievement). got the go-ahead from my boss & my lead was copied on all the emails. so i set up meetings with the team today and tomorrow, circulated an agenda, and created a structure for us to use in brainstorming content. my lead was CC’d on all of this because i’m not allowed to email people without her knowing. then this morning she messaged to ask me to change the time of my meeting because she wanted to meet with the HR lead about something earlier in the day. so i was like ok whatever! annoying that you couldn’t find some other time and had to take this time but fine! i moved the meeting, sent out a note to the HR team, and don’t really think anything of it.

but THEN we just had our weekly meeting with our boss, and at this meeting ashley announced that she had met with the HR team this morning, gotten all the material needed the project, and would complete everything by the end of the day. i was just sitting there like “...i’m sorry?” and finally interrupted her to be like “so what should i do with them in the meeting?” and she was like “well you don’t really need to have it now. but you could just sit on the call with them and have them upload these three forms i need and email them to me if you want.” i just sat there gaping at her because what the ACTUAL fuck???? like you already block me from taking on projects and take credit for the projects i DO do and now you’ve escalated to stealing projects I’d claimed & completing them before i can finish them & then telling me that in front of my boss so it looks like either you didn’t trust me to do it myself or i was failing in some way and you had to pick up the slack? and also you make me look stupid in front of the HR team by scheduling your own private meetings with them and not telling me so i’m still communicating with them like i’m coordinating the project? like WHAT is this woman’s deal??? jesus christ!!!!

i have a meeting with her later (which she rescheduled earlier one minute before it was supposed to start without telling me) and i’m trying to decide if i bring it up with her to be like “that really fucking bothered me” in more professional language, or if i just let it go and use it as further fuel to get out of here. i feel like i keep letting things go because they’re annoying/insulting but they’re also just “oh i can explain...” enough that i feel dumb bringing them up because there’s that tiny voice in my head that’s like ‘did you miss something? did YOU fuck up? is someone mad at you? did your boss say yes to your face and then go over your head to tell your lead to do the project for you?’ which just makes me feel all uncomfortable and lowkey anxious even though i’m like if i DID fuck up recently somehow (how could i have fucked up?? i’ve been out for three weeks!!!! i literally have not had opportunity to fuck up!!!) and my boss handled it that way instead of addressing it with me, that’s just terrible management and should not be something i internalize. but AGH the fucking MIND GAMES in this team and just all! the! tiny! ways! my lead undermines me or tries to make me doubt myself. and THEN i have no idea if she’s doing it intentionally or if she’s just kinda shitty at supervising people or at communicating clearly (which is funny because she talks all the time about how she’s such a ~relator~ whose biggest skill is building relationships and communicating with people). idk man it just makes me feel bad and then it feels even worse to stew in the negative feelings all day. like i don’t actually ENJOY complaining i would much rather just have a job where i get to work hard alongside people i generally like and respect and all of my dear diary posts are about how rewarding i find my work or whatever!!! blehhhh okay gotta go do a quick lap around the house before i can face her in 5 minutes. 

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 7.8

Because Avery and Lucy were good at doing.  Verona was good at the practice but not so good at the hairy situations.

At some point the three of them need to talk about how they all feel like they're each letting the other two down

Avery looked so wounded, somehow.  Because of Laila?

that and being literally kicked aside

The feelings rolled over Verona and she wasn’t really equipped for it. She thought of her dad and how she’d left him.

I guess this is the flipside of how Avery commented that experiencing Verona's memories feels muted.

If she’d taken another path- if she’d stayed home, bit her tongue, got her dad that frigging flat ginger ale, changed the sheets, and let her friends go back, maybe let them go back without her, she could have helped out more at the perimeter. 

Verona is really beaten down here. I get why she's fixating on how she could have stayed in Kennet and been dutiful instead of chasing what she loves, but I think being stuck at home, in a place she feels she can barely breathe, hearing secondhand about everything Avery and Lucy were learning, would hurt her worse. Not to mention how she'd feel knowing they were in danger and stuck far away.

And because everything's gone so badly now, she's not giving herself credit for how much her skill with the practice has been useful in setting up basically every ritual and diagram they've made.

He was going to fight them and it would be disastrous.

Toadswallow... he really is a good teacher

If you want a laugh or you want to be sadistic?  He’ll be way more fun to go after than I will.  I just shut down, guys.

"My trauma responses make me uninteresting to torture" is such a fucked up defense. Like, good on Verona for finding a use for everything, but man that's bleak

“I thought the brownies would carry you off, Miss Hayward,” Bristow said, as a brownie crawled up to his shoulder.  It hissed.  “And you made a challenge.”

welp, him knowing about it makes things considerably harder. I'm not sure what they can do, particularly if he knows he just has to wait Verona out for a few hours. I think at this point it might really be depending on Avery

“She’s not a real member of the family, she’s not privy to our methods, and, funnily enough, I wouldn’t make her wear that thing.”

wow, Musser is managing to be a dick to literally everybody

“This kind of knowledge doesn’t come with the package, or with the clarification as they refine their Self, as if they were taking progressively smaller chunks of clay out of their raw Self, to create more detail,” Musser said.  “He’s either killed practitioners, or he’s seen others of his kind get bound.”

... or someone told him?

Everyone else is too complacent, too selfish, too wrapped up in what they’re doing.

... and Bristow isn't too selfish?

I have to ask, if you knew to the point of certainty that the well being of the world hinged on working with a man like him, would you? 

very Taylor Hebert of you there

He’s good at heart

doubt!

It will take time and education and meeting the right people to get him to a better balance. Losing the right people, even.

... I am reluctantly forced to acknowledge that it sounds like Ted might be speaking from experience here, of knowing Bristow in another timeline

“We need a tyrant for a moment, and he has it in him to be a true hero. I know this in a way I couldn’t possibly convey to you.”

yeah. Blech!

A music box played a full concert in plonky, artificial instrument sounds.  America hummed tunelessly along.

oh upside! If they're in the new building with America, that means the goblins (and maybe Avery, Zed, and Jessica?) have a way in.

The nine-ish minute intervals allowed her to keep track of the passage of time.

2.5 hours, more or less. Barely an hour to go until the deadline

“If I got two hours to watch TV, it meant two hours, and if I went a second over, then I’d have the same two hours with the music box, which usually meant a cold dinner, after.”

:(

“And my mom is not horrible. I have a roof over my head, food, education, practice, and opportunities, thank you,” Talia said. The reply sounded automatic.

:( :( :(

Hadley reached over her head, sticking out a finger, and poked Estrella in the side. Estrella didn’t react. “Tickle tickle.” Estrella swung her hand down, lightning-fast, for a full-faced slap on Hadley’s face. Hadley shifted feet around and sat up, looking at Estrella, bewildered.

unfortunately these antagonists are fun. Gore-strewn violent girl who always seems to be moving and fae practitioner who specializes in those who have gone static is a nice combo. Also, the fact that Estrella's family was killed by witch hunters and Hadley spends her free time hunting them... could be a point of connection.

“The dead can be touched as necessary.  But it should be respectful and mindful, not just of the quality of any materials, but of the sentiment for the dead.  One day we shall be dead and we should be so lucky as to be made useful after, and treated with respect in the process.”

very harrowhark-core

A knife, black as night, almost invisible against the dark blue sky, except for the fact it was glossy.

oni knife throwing!

Kind of played off of ideas like how if a superhero on TV had a forcefield that let light and sound through, it shouldn’t protect against sonic or light based attacks.

you can take the wildbow out of the capefic, but can't take the capefic out of the wildbow

A sharp stomp of one high-heeled shoe crippled the goblin on the floor. “Again!” it cried out, voice high. “Again, please!”

lol

The goblins charged the table.  Dolls intervened, the goblins bowled through the first dolls, started to pick themselves up, and headed for the table again.  Estrella had to tackle them to protect the music box, and in the process, they wrapped Bristow’s underwear around her face.

I like how goblins keep turning these fights into slapstick

America kept going.  So Verona did too, one eye wincing.  If Lucy got hit, she’d- she didn’t know what she’d do. But it wasn’t pretty.

Torn between liking how Verona panics at Lucy potentially getting hurt, and disliking Lucy potentially getting hurt

Verona’s hand changed. One large cat’s paw, very nice, and cats paws had claws, and claws could cut binding. Or maybe not, but she was riding a high and buying her own bullcrap and it worked. The claws cut through the cordage.

catgirl mode!

“I leave, I’ll only protect myself, nothing aggressive unless I must, and I’ll avoid seeking out circumstances that force my hand.  I’ll get my younger brother and we’ll step down from any fighting for the time being.  I so swear.”

Oh this is a good angle to pursue. A lot of Bristow's allies seem to have defaulted into it, if they can convince them to act neutral that's a big improvement. And I'm all for arguing for clemency if/when Alexander regains power.

“And I want to stab you in the boob.  Sorry hon.  That’s my condition.” “You could stab me in the leg to make it even.” “I don’t want to make it even. I want to stab you in the boob.”

broadening my "goblins keep making fights funny" statement to include goblin practitioners

Verona saw Avery come running. She braced for the incoming hug better than Lucy did.

:)

Zed, wearing his power glove, gave it a tap.  The battery icon flashed on and then went to full.

incredibly useful bit of practice

She’d let Bristow do his thing and gainsay her.  Hoping to hear some key words. Or rather, to use the apps that she’d bookmarked after trying to open lines of communication with Tashlit. One of them was speech to text and text to speech.

oh fuck yeah! I mean, I'm worried this might be similar to the brownie trick that backfired earlier, but good planning

“Or are your words true, and you’re pleased at this final outcome that you got with the help of the staff?  You, grateful to the brownies, with all the implicit danger that comes with that expressed pleasure and happiness?”

hahahaha get fucked

“This is my first of three challenges put forward to you, regarding our back and forth,” she told him.  She hung up and ended the message.

*mic drop*

[adultswim2021]

The Venture Bros. #36: “Tears of a Sea Cow” | July 20, 2008 - 11:30PM | S03E08

The Monarch isn’t allowed to arch Dr. Venture anymore, and this episode is about him defying the bonds of his Guild affiliation and going over to the Venture compound to fuck it up with Hench people 21 and 24. They decide to do this because Dr. Venture and Brock are out of town.

What they don't know is that Hank and Dean are left home alone (or maybe they do! I didn’t do a good enough job listening to all the dialogue!). Hank has his no-goodnik friend Dermot over and we see the first inklings of their band, Shallow Gravy (they haven’t arrived at the name yet, though). They also go camping in the yard and have a run-in with Henchman 21, who tells Hank that he’s an immortal, since he’s personally seen (and at least once caused) his death multiple times. He shoots Hank with what he assumes is a fatal dart, but turns out to be a tranq, causing Hank to believe he actually is a Highlander. 

Meanwhile, the Monarch breaks into Dr. Venture’s lab and messes some stuff up, including GUARDO, who we saw in Home Insecurity. The Monarch spitefully makes love to the ailing robot and Dean walks in and catches him. The Monarch psyches him out by pretending that he’s playing some game to get Dean to betray his own good nature by tattling on him. Eventually Dr. Girlfriend gets him out of there before anyone’s the wiser. Those are basically what make up the main story beats of this episode.

I consider this one to be a decent hang, and maybe my favorite of this comparatively lackluster run. Not much in this one stands out to me as amazing or particularly hilarious, but I don’t think anything’s particularly wrong with it, either. This is the same spirit of episodes I really love; one where it’s mostly about the characters interacting and letting moments breathe. The biggest thing this episode is lacking, though, is Dr. Venture and Brock, who only appear in a brief cutaway at their science conference. As mentioned in the commentary, this helped the Venture crew stay under budget, seeing as how the cast consisted of three actors (two of whom were Jackson and Doc). 

There’s a lot made of the title of this episode in the commentary and the reason for that is that apparently this ran in some TV guides as “Murder O’Clock”, which they changed when they finished the closing credits of the episode. Doc remarked that he’s bad at titling things, and forever knows this episode as his initial title of “Goes to Compound”. I agree it’s a bad title! It refers to the cold open and nothing else, so I always look at this title and think "that's the one where the Monarch kills the Seacow guy in the cold open" and remember nothing else.

In the cold open, the Monarch half-heartedly arches a good guy named Dr. Dugong, who is half human/half manatee. This is my least favorite part of the episode, and my least favorite joke that The Venture Bros. tells. Because of bureaucratic Guild of Calamitous Intent policy, The Monarch is not allowed to follow his truth bliss of arching Dr. Venture. Since this villain and hero have been jammed together by the guild, we have these super heroes and villains all self-consciously playing a role and acting almost as though as they’re reading from a script.

The point of it is that it’s dispiriting, and it works as a set-up for the rest of the episode. I just find it unfunny and as joyless to watch as it must feel in-universe. There’s almost nowhere you can take that premise and have it be interesting. The scene ends with The Monarch, at the urging of Dr. Mrs. the Monarch, telling him to just pretend his new foe is Dr. Venture. He does, and murders him in a crime of mistaken passion, which lands him in hot water with the guild. This bit winds up weighing on the overall story of the series when the Ventures move to New York and we find out he was the relative of a main antagonist. 

Other things worth noting: Dean’s mimeographed Venture news paper is memorable. It’s implied that Henchman 21 wrote to the advice column about his unrequited crush on Dr. Mrs. the Monarch, which first came up in season two during the first Dr. Killinger episode. This gets developed as the series progresses. Dermot also claims to be Brock’s long-lost son to evade a confrontation with 24. This is also the beginning of 21’s insistence that he and 24 are like “main characters” in a TV show, a delusion that winds up getting dashed at the end of the season. 

There’s also a reference that caused me to rent and be disappointed by a motion picture: Eddie and the Cruisers. Eddie and the Cruisers II: Eddie Lives is sitting on my Plex server as we speak and will likely never be watched (or, for mental illness reasons, deleted) as long as I’m alive. The show loves referring to forgotten, lame movies. Sharky’s Machine, aside from one really impressive stunt, is also a bore. 

Robot Chicken: Star Wars DVD (July 22, 2008)

When I was at the height of collecting Adult Swim on DVD, I bargained with myself that I would not buy the DVDs for shows that I heavily disliked. But, what I WOULD DO is, is I would rent the DVDs from Netflix and make a DVD-R copy of them. I would also print out a copy of the cover and include it in my collection of Adult Swim DVDs, which I kept together, organized by earliest episode’s air-date for each volume. It was convoluted, but I liked seeing them in rough-chronological order on the shelf, lord help me. I also made custom DVDs and covers for shows that didn’t have official releases. I sometimes get the urge to put it all back that way on my current shelves. I am almost 40 years old.

I guess what I’m saying is, even though I don’t like Robot Chicken, and I especially don’t like Robot Chicken: Star Wars, I still at one point possessed a DVDShrink-authored DVD-R of the DVD’s contents, and marveled at how much extra stuff was on there. There was literally like 5 audio commentary tracks on this fucking thing. I think one of them had George Lucas’ kids on it. Ugh. I hate that I know that. I didn’t look that up, I swear. I just remembered this. There are literally girls who I had crushes on whose names escape me, and I remember who participated in the fifth audio commentary track of the Robot Chicken Star Wars DVD. Goodbye, everyone *kills self*

[tojiscrack]

𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒:

note: i don’t mean to make this restricting, but if this blog is supposed to be a safe place for everyone (including myself) we might need some ground rules about what can and cannot happen here :)

requests:

you can ask for small drabbles to do with fictional characters you might be interested in. has to have a prompt, of course, so i know what i’m writing about

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the awkward thing about requests is when someone asks you to write about a particular character that you dislike or despise. in order to prevent this, i’ll quickly jot down characters i like/dislike <3

i only write for fem!readers seeing as all my fics and works are self indulgent. that being said, in terms of what the reader is described as, my works are friendly for any and all skin types and hair types! :) (i try to make it so that it is, if you spot anything that you feel isn’t poc friendly, don’t be afraid to send me a message about it so it can be corrected!)

fandoms i write for:

aot and jjk

other mentions:

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on the contrary, i do like feedback on my writing. as long as it is polite, i’m okay with any other comments. i enjoy reading your thoughts!!

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i don’t block anyone at all, but if i have, it’s probably due to 2 reasons: 1. because of an interaction you’ve had with me that wasn’t pleasant. in other words, it wouldn’t have come out of blue. i’m never part of any drama lol, so you most likely won’t have to worry about this part (though it is safe to keep this up just in case)!! :) or 2. your posts with ships that i simply dislike (and/or hate) have come up on my feed a frequent number of times and i’m just tired of seeing it. this doesn’t mean i have any ill intent towards you when i block you, i just want to enter the app without seeing things i don’t exactly want to see! :)

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anyone and everyone!

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protection of my writing:

one thing that makes my writing specifically known as mine is the way i write y/n or the plot — usually follows a more comedic/crack type of story rather than an actual… story, lmfao?? i will not allow for anyone to take certain scenes i’ve written (and i’ll know, trust me, bcz i come up with them as they’re all inspired from IRL events of my own life) and then incorporate them into their own story. in short: i will not allow plagiarism, stealing my ideas, taking inspo from my writing without credit, and so on.

anything ranging from copying my stories to translating my work in another language is definitely not allowed.

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floch and zeke

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sukuna, mahito and kenjaku

rules last updated:

14th of april, 2024

that’s all!! enjoy your stay <3

[jodilin65]

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 29, 2004 Today should be our last motel day. We hope anyway! Then our 6-month duplex sentence can begin almost exactly to the date of the sicko’s sentence. However, I hope this will hardly end up being a “sentence” as opposed to 6 months in jail. It’ll mainly depend on the neighbors. With dogs being such a popular pet, I’m hoping the fact that because 3 people all under the same management don’t have them means they’re not allowed. I don’t know, though, because Pam never said anything about dogs not being allowed, and neither did the write-up about the place. Besides, almost any place will let you have dogs with a decent deposit, as Tom said.

I just hope we can get in, and, since it’s going to be years before we can own anything, if we ever do, I hope it’ll be nice enough there to stay put for a long, long time. I’m really tired of having my life turned upside down. It’s been nearly a year and a half now since that sick fuck fired Tom and we’re still paying for it. I’m beginning to wonder if we’re going to pay for it for 7 years just like with the sicko’s shit. Why can’t our problems ever be short-term? Days, weeks, even a few months, for that matter. Instead, they’re always years.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 28, 2004 There’s both good news and bad news. The bad is that for the millionth time, we’ve been put out, thanks to other people fucking up. The stupid shits at the satellite company had billed our credit card even after we canceled with them. We got the money back, but while they were busy taking what was supposed to be our storage money, the storage people couldn’t get their money, so they put an extra lock on our door. See what I mean about others always, always making life hard for us, fucking us over, putting us out, hassling us to death? Because of some stranger we don’t even know in another state, we couldn’t get the dolls yesterday. Tom wrote them a check and they say they’ll take the lock off. So today’s attempt #3 to get the damn dolls. If he doesn’t return today with them, I’m going to seriously wonder if something up there doesn’t want me selling them. It definitely hasn’t wanted me to sell much of anything as of yet.

The good news is that we decided we are getting into this duplex either way. Then, if God could stop sending people to fuck us over, maybe we’ll get ahead at least for a little while.

He’s going to sign a 6-month lease instead of a year, though if it’s going to be years before we can own again, I’d rather just stay put. However, I know God will see to it that it gets noisy sooner or later to keep me on the move. I’m also still hesitant about ever owning again. It’s a lot easier to get evicted from an apartment than it is to lose a house/land.

Got a Bob letter yesterday. Now here’s something that’d be too good to be true. He has a court case pending, which I assume pertains to his case that could net him $65,000,000, and a malpractice suit that could net him a million. I know he’ll never win a dime, but it’s nice to know that if he did, he’d give us a huge sum of money after getting himself a lung transplant. But I thought he said he’d been turned down by everyone regarding his case. I asked him to tell me more about it, and also not to get his hopes up either. The prisoner almost never wins. Since we don’t live in a perfect world, every case has its magic button that would be an automatic release from jail/prison or even a huge settlement, but finding that button and proving whatever point needs proving, is next to impossible. Still, it’s nice to know he’d be generous enough to see us set for life if he did win big.

No one’s been next to us the last couple of nights. It’s been pretty quiet.

Later…

I sold both Ciara and Samantha! I only got $130 for them, but that’s better than nothing, and any little bit helps. It took us a while to prep Ciara. I had to get her dressed, work the ponytail holder out of her hair without messing up her curls, and Tom had to fix her necklace. Its elastic stretched really bad, so he had to break the clasp off, break off the excess thread, then tie it back on.

When we first brought them over, all 4 of them came out and lined up behind the counter like a panel of judges. I didn’t realize they’d make it a family event, but Tom, who knows a bit about Indian culture, explained to me that that was part of their ways. Tina can’t buy anything without Raj there or go cruising around by herself to stores, which I don’t think is fair. He also told me that they teach them English in school, and the reason the parents don’t speak it is that they didn’t teach them English back then. It didn’t become part of their education until around 30 years ago. That explains why Tina said her sister-in-law’s English wasn’t too good for being in the country for only a year. I had thought it was actually pretty damn good for just a year and was wondering how she could’ve learned it so fast.

Anyway, when they entered the office, they began talking in Indian. How I wish I could’ve understood! I was a little worried by their expressions at first, thinking they weren’t all that impressed, but then she asked if I’d accept the $130 and I readily agreed. As much as we need money, I wasn’t about to argue, even though I paid a total of $250 for them. I enjoyed Ciara during the Maricopa years, so she’s pretty “used.” Meanwhile, she took up too much space with her wide-skirted gown, and like Samantha, wasn’t that great.

I was also worried they might not take them both, thinking they were too much the same – blond hair, blue eyes, light blue dresses.

So we get to leave the motel and Ciara and Samantha get to stay. God help her when that kid is able to get around and knock them over!

In other news, I got a letter from Paula. Wow, 3 letters in less than 6 months! I’m impressed. She says Miguel’s still history. I don’t understand why she asks how the land and RV are. Hasn’t she been getting my letters? Nonetheless, her letter was very nice. She asked how Tom was and all that, too.

Anyway, I can’t wait to get into the duplex and get settled and get our stuff off the land and out of storage. As it is, Michael sent a letter ordering us to pay up or else! Tom’s going to send a letter with a bogus story saying that Bob threatened us off the land, then accuse Michael of running a scam of having people buy his land, then send someone to run them off in fear for their lives. That’ll serve his ass right too, if he was the one who complained about us, though nothing ever happened pertaining to that. Either someone else complained and got ignored, or he was just playing with us to ruffle our feathers. Some people are like that. They wake up and say to themselves, “Let’s see who we can rile up today.”

We’re still cursed with leaks, sluggish toilets and foul smells. Their pipes here run under the rooms. There’s a wet area by where I’m sitting that always smells damp and mildewy. The question is what will leak/stink in the duplex? They gave us a checklist sheet so we could do a walk-through and make sure everything was okay, but with my shit luck, there’ll be problems that someone will have to come over to tend to for God knows how many days.

I can’t believe my plants are still alive. Not after the cold spells we’ve had. I just don’t see how they could have survived it. I decided that with all the moving we do, I’d rather buy this really nice fake palm I saw at Fred Meyer at some point. It’s $105, but it won’t need light, won’t shift, won’t die, won’t need watering.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 27, 2004 I still don’t know if Tina will want the dolls because Tom couldn’t make it to storage yesterday. He needed to call Pacific Power to find out how much of a deposit they require. The good news is that just like back east, they require nothing. This still doesn’t mean we’re going to get the duplex for sure, though it’s what we’re shooting for. We did, however, look at some of Tina’s kitchenettes, in case we don’t get what we want, as usual. I thought there was only one layout, but I was wrong. The room on the very end had 3 beds, so that’s out. There were a couple with 2 beds that aren’t quite in separate rooms, but more like separate areas. It also has a tub in its bathroom. The rooms stunk like hell and were filthy, thanks to all the little Mexies, so I couldn’t stand to be in them for long. It’s going to take poor Raj and his dad ages to get all those rooms cleaned and the stench out of them. The bathrooms smelled like the disgusting animals pissed on the floors and walls rather than in the toilet. They’re coming back too, in December. According to Tina, they come every few months. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to us if we got trapped here for a few months, since we’d save a fair amount of money, but not only did I not come here to live in motels, I don’t want to do what I did down in Arizona and live with a bunch of shitheads all over again. They weren’t as wild as I thought they’d be, but they weren’t always quiet either.

Later…

Looks like it’s snowing again. It did that yesterday too, leaving a light dusting on the ground. It was visible when I went to the store this morning, then it melted, and now it’s coming down again. Tom was standing out in it yesterday evening, saying how cool it was. You’re insane, I told him!

Blondie’s been out since early this morning. He’s spent most of his time sleeping on the bed and the nightstand.

I wish I knew what was going on! Are we going to the duplex? Staying here? Questions, questions, questions, but never any answers! How I miss the days of stability and security! I’m so sick of struggling! I tell myself to learn to live with it because that’s just what we’re meant to do. I know we’ll always be scraping pennies and having to do without this and do without that, so I guess I better get used to it. I just want a place to live is all. Then I’ll get used to struggling.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 26, 2004 We were both quite impressed with the duplex. It was bigger and in good condition for its age. We’re guessing it was built in the 60s or 70s. It’s on Shasta Way, a nice street name as opposed to all the numbered streets they have which are boring. It seems like it may be ideal for us, but the catch is that we may not be able to come up with the money by the weekend so we could move in this Saturday. They want more of a deposit up front than Tom thought they wanted. I don’t know if Pam, the woman who showed us the place, withheld this from him or if there was a misunderstanding or if she decided she didn’t like me now that she had a chance to meet me and came up with a higher sum as a deterrent or what. We need another BOA check since the immortal queen bitch isn’t about to help! Besides, it’s too late. We needed her 7 weeks ago. Even if the selfish fuck sent out a check today, we wouldn’t get it in time.

I don’t want to get into describing it too much in case we don’t make it in, but it was nice, alright. And huge, too. Maybe about half of our old house, at close to 1000 square feet. It looks smaller from the road because it’s sort of L-shaped, though each line of the L is the same length, and part of it stretches out towards the back. As I said, if we have to be stuck in the city, it seems ideal. I just wonder if God’s going to be like, “Nope, I’m not going to let you find the money to get in, it’ll be too quiet.” On the other hand, He could make sure we didn’t get in just because it’s a nice place since there is the potential for trouble. Again, it all depends on who the surrounding tenants are. Right now, no one in the immediate area has dogs, but if the neighbors decided to get one, it’d be literally right outside our window. More so than in Phoenix. There are two duplexes. The backyard of the one to our left faces the bedroom and bath. They’re on the corner, facing whatever the nearest side street is. This one’s currently rented by a mother and her daughter, the daughter being on one side with the mom on the other. They have cats that were in the window at the time we went out back, but no dogs. Of course, it goes without saying that if next door got a dog, it would be worse, because if it was big and mean it could run up to us when we went out back. There’s a grid fence, however, blocking off the yard that the mother and daughter share. The front isn’t fenced, but because it’s on a slight incline, there’s a short concrete wall dividing the front yards that tapers off towards the road as the land levels out. There are trees and shrubs by some of the windows. One tree in back is an apple tree! I’m not big on apples, but it’s still cool to have. There’d be plenty of places in front and back to hang the wind chimes, and there doesn’t appear to be a cellar or a crawl space under the place, so that’s good. The other duplex clearly has one because we could see vents. It’s also laid out differently and they don’t have garages. The backyard isn’t square. It’s sort of wider by the duplex. There’s a clothesline on the other side and an old shed that no one uses. It’s pretty rundown without any real doors or windows anyway. I couldn’t tell if there were other backyards behind this one or if it was the fronts of other houses. The two duplexes are on the same lot which is about a third of an acre.

The exterior is a peachy pink color or more like a dark coral. The color I’d have painted the dome.

Inside, the carpet is brand new and very nice for a neutral color. It’s a sculpted carpet in shades of tan and brown. It’s better than plain brown, even carpet. The kitchen floor was nice too, with little rosettes. It’s pretty much laid out where the garage, bath and bedroom form one part of the L, and the living room, kitchen and utility form the other, though not back to back. When you walk in the front, you’re at the left end of the long living room which extends towards the right, where the neighbor is. Behind the living room, from left to right, is a small dining area, the kitchen, then the utility where the back door is located. There’s a washer/dryer hookup in this area, too. If you walk in the front door, walk forward towards the dining area, then hang a left, you come to a set of linen cabinets just outside the bathroom. The bathroom’s pretty nice, from what I saw. I didn’t run any faucets or flush the toilet to see how they worked, but what I liked about the bathroom was that there were not only cabinets under the sink, but drawers, too. In the back, stretching straight back towards the back of the property is the enormous bedroom. Its back wall has closets with built-in drawers underneath! Something someone with no furniture could definitely use.

The kitchen was small, though bigger than Phoenix. I just can’t believe it’s all just $435! It’d be twice that much in Phoenix and Massachusetts.

The garage was nice too, because it had shelves along the back. The neighbor doesn’t seem to park in her garage, from what we’ve seen. Maybe she’s got a lot of junk in it. One thing we already do know about her is that she is a complainer. Pam said the people who last lived there played loud music and that she complained about it, though that’s a legit complaint. The question is, will she complain about my singing, too? I wouldn’t think she could hear it with me in the bedroom, though she would if she were out back when I was singing. I would seriously have to wonder about anyone who complained about that because there’d be no obnoxious bass or drums thumping along with it since I’d have headphones on, and it’s not like I do it for hours at a time. She is, though, described as “very nice,” and she does appear to be home all the time. She obviously doesn’t do no 9:00 to 5:00, because her car was out front when we arrived just before 5:00. I get the feeling she’s either retired, living off a pension from a deceased husband, or maybe even alimony. If she’s like most people, she has the TV going whenever she’s up and about which would help to mask any sounds we may make. As long as we don’t have to hear her TV and she doesn’t pester us, we’ll be okay. I just hope she won’t move if she is a good neighbor. All the good ones always move! We didn’t hear a peep out of her while we were there, but that may’ve been because she turned her TV off so she could eavesdrop out of curiosity as we still don’t know how thick those walls are. He thinks they’re pretty thick because the roof levels are a couple of feet off in height due to the little incline. I’m surprised she didn’t come out when we pulled up the driveway. The driveways are at opposite ends, but still, I’d think she’d have heard the doors. Especially if she were in her living room.

Tom and I were laughing at how Pam had said the neighbor was his age. Well, he looks a little older than 47. He looks early 50s. Pam, who appears to be right around 50, said she thought the neighbor might be older than her, so that would put her in her early 50s. Tom doesn’t think she’ll be as quick to move if she is.

I like how there aren’t a million huge windows throughout the place, which have mini-blinds. Instead, there are windows that are higher up on the wall and wider than they are long. I also like how each room has its own wall heater and thermostat.

The back doors are side by side, but I figure she won’t be going out back much. I hope no one in these two duplexes will for that matter, and that they’ll be more front-yard oriented to lessen the chances of my singing being heard and them starting trouble.

In the garage were trash cans. They do a pickup every Friday so long as you don’t put out anything more than a 32-gallon container.

The owner takes care of the lawn, though we have to water it (there’s a hose in back). Not now, though, with the snow and rain. I don’t know if I’ll like lawnmowers buzzing around once a week for half a year as I don’t know if the fan could drown that out if I were asleep.

There is fairly heavy traffic on the street, but it’s no problem at all. It’s actually sort of soothing like the highway traffic is here. Plus, there’s no light for them to have to stop at. They just whiz by. There are a lot of car stereos, though.

The only dog in the area we’re aware of is across the street. It was fenced in back and could get around to the side. We wouldn’t hear it in the house, though, unless it was out barking in the dead of night and we were in the living room. I guess it’s just a Western thing, but people with dogs simply won’t take them indoors unless they absolutely have to, so that’d be my biggest concern living there; someone getting a dog that they wouldn’t take inside unless it was under 20˚. The good in it, though, is that we’d know who to call if they did, though I don’t know if it’d do us any good. For now, I just hope we get in there this weekend!

Later…

Maybe we will get in this weekend, thanks to Tina. I’m excited to say that she may be interested in both Samantha and Ciara, but almost certainly Ciara. I went down and filled Tina in on our current predicament, then I told her about my big Ciara doll I was willing to sell for $100. Remembering I could access my online photo album, I showed her and Raj (that’s her husband’s name) pictures of her after she spoke to him about it, since he handles the finances. She explained the situation to him in Hindi. They were impressed with her picture. They seem to really like blue-eyed blondes, which I guess makes sense. Most people seem to like/want what they don’t have. I guess that’s why I like darker eyes, hair and skin. After they checked her out, Raj’s parents checked her out, too. They also liked what they saw.

I also told them a little about the incense. Of course, I had trouble understanding them at times because of their accent, and they had trouble understanding me at times, not just because I’m American, but because of the traces of Bostonian in my accent. Even growing up on the other side of Massachusetts, we still get touches of that side’s accent in some of our words/vowels. Anyway, Tina likes the smell of roses, so I think that once we’re settled and I make an incense order, I’ll grab a 20-pack of Rose for her for just a couple of bucks, plus offer her some of the acrylic and wire pop-up burners we have.

Blondie was climbing up my leg and onto my lap for attention from time to time, but now it’s time for a nightstand nap. He loves to lounge on smooth, hard surfaces.

Tina is very excited about the idea of us staying in one of her rooms with a kitchenette for $650 a month, saying I could choose any room I wanted, but as I told her, we really do hope to get this duplex because we need more space. It’s nice to know it’s an option, though, for if worse came to worst. At least her kitchenettes are roomy, in good shape, with internet access and good people running the place. However, we need more room, I’d like to have at least more than one room that isn’t a kitchen or a bathroom, and I’d like a place to sing without an audience if I can help it. Still, I told her we’d keep it in mind and that I’d get her incense to her eventually, wherever I am.

Then I remembered Samantha. She’s of the same coloring as Ciara. Even wears light blue, too. I left a message for Tom to get both dolls out of storage and they’re going to check them both out. I’m going to offer them both as a package deal for $150. We know right where Samantha and Ciara are, but hopefully, he won’t have to tear the place apart too much to find Ciara’s gown and stand. Their certificates are in the truck.

I realized what was taking them so long to clean the rooms yesterday; they wanted to do a thorough job after the farming scumbags no doubt trashed them and left them filthy.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 25, 2004 I don’t know if I could kick myself more for checking Maricopa’s weather like I just did, or for moving here! It’s 23˚ here right now yet it’s 59˚ in Maricopa. Their 10-cast is to be much like the summer was here. Some of their lows are higher than our highs! Tina’s father-in-law is bundled up warmly and even has a knit cap on. If I were still friends with Andy, he’d be laughing at me like we’d laugh at others, assuming he’s still in Arizona.

Anyway, I slept well last night. After the initial crash-in next door, all went quiet.

They got the electronic door locks fixed, so we don’t have to keep getting our key cards reactivated. I guess it was unfair of me to blame that one on their stupidity. For one, the more I get to know them, the more I see that they’re not stupid, they just don’t know a lot of English. Secondly, the problem the locks had wasn’t their fault.

I see and hear bigoted messages everywhere lumping same-sex marriages with school violence, poverty, etc., and it’s like – why are people so dumb and blind?!?! They’re picking on the wrong group of people. They’re not the ones running around rioting, shooting people, selling drugs every chance they get while they collect welfare checks and disrupt as many lives as they can.

The Mexie farmers are gone, so that’s good. It’s totally dead out there. Not one car in sight. The grills are gone, too.

I’ve really got to cut my calories again. I just can’t eat what I want and get away with it, even if I exercise. I can feel it in my pants. My pants are tighter, my ring is tighter, and I look like shit. I’m huge around the middle with a neck practically down to my chest. I just don’t see how people late in their pregnancies stand it. How do they get around? How do they breathe? I saw a woman on TV that was so fat, she appeared to have no neck. When you looked straight at her, her neck was as wide as her cheeks. Now that took guts; going on TV like that.

If people would stop turning our lives upside down every few years, maybe I can finally stick to a good regimen. I know it’s going to mean being hungry all the time, but I think the results will be worth the hunger. For a while I didn’t care, but I’m getting rather sick of being a blimp. As soon as we get settled and can finally fall into a routine, I want to step on the diet and exercise thing. Well, I’m already back on the exercise routine, so just the diet needs to be added in. I want to do it to save money, too.

Later…

I’m both excited and apprehensive about seeing the duplex today, but hey, we gotta live somewhere. For now, we go wherever God puts us till we can finally get some control over our lives for once and for all and get land and a house we can’t lose. At least not in 5 years like in Maricopa or in a few months like with the land here. I don’t know what state it’ll be in or how many years it’ll take, but not even God can keep us in rentals forever!

Still, I get the nagging feeling we’re here for a special reason, but what that reason is, I do not know. Sure most of it is simply because I don’t want to be here and because I don’t want to listen to other people, but there’s some other reason, too. I just hope it’s good, whatever it is! Anyway, whenever we do get a house, we’re just going to make sure we don’t go overboard. We’ll get 1-5 acres instead of 10. We’ll get a 1000-1600-square-foot house instead of a 2100-square-foot house.

Anyway, it’s been a quiet day here so far, but I don’t like how they’re taking all day to do the room. At 8:30 they got my sheets and at 10:30 they made the bed. Meanwhile, they still have to vacuum and put liners in the pails.

I hope the woman who’s going to show us the duplex isn’t one of those who’s always late, leaving us to wait for an hour for her to show up.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 24, 2004 Tom came home from work Friday with a wonderful treat for me. A handful of incense sticks from a store he stopped at to ask about selling pieces of turquoise that we got from the queen years ago. It’s a little smoky, but it lingers well and is way better than your department store crap. Not quite as good as Incense Galore, though, but certainly good enough. He got Patchouli and Jasmine, which he knows I like, along with Opium and Kiwi. I wasn’t at all impressed with the Kiwi, and the Opium was just so-so. Still, the place smelled so stale and I missed my nose treats, that his timing was perfect. I always love having incense around.

When I awoke the next morning (yesterday morning), it was like, oh my God! The people who Tom said arrived next door before he crashed, were slamming shit up against the wall like crazy. It was about as close to the NHA as one could get, sound-wise. I had to wonder just what the hell were they doing in there. Were they fighting? Rearranging furniture? It was weird too, because there’d be a fit of scuffling and banging for a handful of minutes, then it would go dead quiet for a while, and back and forth like that from when I got up at 5:00 until we decided to leave a few hours later. It’s just that for all I knew, they could’ve signed on for a week and there was no way I was going to put up with that shit for even a weekend. Why oh why am I so destined to dodge other people’s rude racket?! The damn banging people do! They just cannot sit still! Why can’t we ever be next to one civilized person who’s as much of a mystery to us as the existence of whoever’s living in the freeloader’s old house? Nonetheless, his place may be quiet when no one’s next door and I may dig the separate room, but other than that, it was cold, dark and spooky (lots of spiders) and I still don’t think the guy’s all that friendly. Service with a smile is still preferred, even if I’m not looking to be buddies with these motel owners.

So I called Tina, friendly Tina who’s cheaper than the La Vista, and after confirming that it was indeed Tina I was speaking with, I asked if we could return. She said she had rooms at weekly rates now available, but the trash is still here till tomorrow. The weather delayed them, I guess. They’ve been ok, though. Just a couple of quick car stereo shows. As always, though, they love to cluster outdoors no matter what the temperature is which has been cold! High 20s. There was even snow visible on the tops of some of the higher mountains in the area. The webcam showed about an inch of snow on the land. Tom, growing up in the desert, thought it was oh-so-cool, but I found it cold, boring looking and even a bit depressing. I wish it were summer again! Summers here are nice as long as you’re not in an old shit of an RV.

Tina has a pretty impressive memory compared to most people. She told me that if I wanted two beds, I could have the room (106) we were first in on Monday if I wanted it. We decided to stay here, though. She also remembered the rat and asked if I still had him, though she asked if I had my “mouse.” This time she only charged $15 instead of $25, so that was nice. Still, I wish she had a garbage disposal for a memory like most people.

So we got settled in here, and of course, we had to listen to next door’s bumps and bangs for a while, but it was tame compared to the Arab’s dive. We actually went to McDonald’s and to that incense store first, because the room wasn’t ready right away.

It’s an Indian specialty store. I’m surprised there were no dolls in it. Just some figurines, dream catchers, candles, beads and incense. There were a few other odds and ends as well, like T-shirts and lotions, but anyway, she had about 25 different fragrances. Some I’ve gotten from Incense Galore, some I haven’t heard of. I got 20 sticks for $2, and Tom showed her the turquoise, which he later said she rejected because I came off as being homeless (I guess people worry about buying stolen things from the homeless). If this is true, it’s her loss. I had even offered to dip and sell her some incense and she was all for it, then she mentioned checking into Incense Galore, which I think he shouldn’t have mentioned, but oh well. There’s a no-making-money-allowed rule on me anyway, so I’m not even going to bother bringing her anything.

He also talked for about an hour with a couple that owns a coin store the other day. The lady collects antique dolls and has a lot of Barbies.

The reason I chose to come back here (and Tom doesn’t mind where I choose to go so long as we can afford it) was so we could go online. It’s not like we’ll be able to do that the instant we move into the duplex, which we drove by as some light flurries fell upon us. I won’t be able to tell how it’s going to be until we’re in it. All I know is that there’s a noise curse on me, so I don’t expect it to be peaceful. It’s a matter of finding the least noisy place we can afford because I’m not allowed to live in quiet places. We’ve got an appointment tomorrow afternoon to check it out. They were putting in new carpet and cleaning it, last he knew. I didn’t think to look for a cellar when we drove by it, but cellars are common in older areas. I’d rather there not be one, though. I’d rather be on solid ground if that lady next door turns out to walk like an elephant, but slab foundations aren’t common in cold climates. The owner of the Indian store said she lives in a duplex she owns and never hears her neighbors. Ah, but are they quiet due to good, solid wall construction, or are they quiet cuz they know they could easily be evicted if they weren’t since they live adjacent to their landlord?

I was surprised to find an email waiting for me from PG regarding e asking how long the fashion dolls will be on sale, but that’s PG for you – they take a year to respond to you and a year to send your dolls. They said the sale’s on while supplies last. Yeah, I’m sure this means that the day I have money, they’ll sell out.

Someone just checked in next door (it’s always a full house here and they check in so early here, too) and of course they had to let me know it, and of course it’s not just one person. I can hear their voices and TV, along with the banging everyone seems so compelled to do. They just better let me sleep this evening!

The best news of all is that I was mistaken in assuming we could never own a house again. Tom explained to me that the credit will be repaired eventually. The only thing is that it may be years before it is.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 22, 2004 Tom, who woke up at midnight for a while, said someone came in with loud music around that time. That is so, so rude to come into a motel blaring music late at night! I know who it is, too. Some cock a few rooms down. It’s just lucky it didn’t wake me up.

Anyway, Tom said the duplex has a single-car garage and that its entry doors are not right next to each other. He also said the front yard is not only fenced, but it appears divided in the center too, giving each house its own yard. I hope it’s like that in back too, if there is a yard so that if this lady does turn out to be quiet enough to end up moving (the quiet ones always do), some obnoxious kid that may move in next with its mother won’t go running up screaming by our windows. Particularly the bedroom window on a day I may happen to be asleep.

We don’t know if there’s an alley in back and you use a community dumpster like we did in Phoenix, or if each house has its own barrel they bring to the side of the street once a week.

I’m hoping my schedule will be suitable for going to check the place out with him on Monday. I also hope God’s willing to compromise with me. Meaning, if I can never live where I want to live, then at least don’t let me be unhappy there! The way Tom describes it, it doesn’t sound like it could be as bad as Phoenix. The only sucky thing is that it’s way out of the way, so if the shit truck broke down, he couldn’t just walk to work. At least he’d be where there were buses and taxis.

There’s one thing Tom said the lady said that bugs me, though, and that’s when she said our prospective neighbor stays home a lot. Unless she told her that herself, how would she know this unless they’re meddling in their tenant’s affairs? And what does “she stays home a lot” mean? Does it mean she doesn’t work? Does it mean she works part-time? Or does it just mean she’s home whenever she’s not at work?

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 21, 2004 Tom looked at the triplex, and it doesn’t look like we’ll be taking that after all. He said they’re so old and ugly that it’s no wonder they can’t rent them. They’re not worth the $350 they’re asking. The main issues were the condition of the bathroom, the layout (there’s not even a closet between the bedroom and next door’s kitchen to dampen the sound), and the fact that it’s not on solid concrete. Tom said there’s a spooky-looking cellar (or basement as they call them here) that runs underneath all 3 units, and that means that if we got someone who walked like an elephant next to us, we’d feel the vibration as if we did have people above us. Also, the only room that’s heated is the living room.

What we are probably going to be moving into is a much newer, bigger duplex with a garage in a nicer residential area. I just wish the garages were between the units! Tom, who drove by it, has an appointment to see it on Monday. The only potential problem with this, besides dogs and car stereos, is that the neighbor, who seems to have been there for a long time, may be a pest. From what the lady who showed the triplex to Tom said, she’s Tom’s age, stays home a lot, and may want a buddy cuz she asked the lady to “send someone nice.”

So that’s it? That’s why God dragged me back here, besides to torment me; to use me to buddy up to some lonely older lady? I don’t think so! I’m not obligated to be anyone’s buddy, though I’d rather a lonely older lady over an unruly pack of freeloaders that are totally out of control. If I can find a way to be nice enough to her to keep her from complaining about my singing (though I’m hoping she works during the day when I do my singing) and get her to not bug us by knocking on the door all the time (I’ll give her my cell phone number if I have to), then we’ll be alright. I also hope the bedroom, which is said to be huge, isn’t adjacent to her place, though if it is, I’d assume her bedroom would be on the other side and not her kitchen. Also, a newer place should have a closet bordering dividing walls if the bedroom really is on that wall.

I don’t know how big the garage is or what the square footage is. Tom guessed it to be about 800. Also, they’re putting new carpet down. It’s more expensive ($435 with nothing included), but Tom was hoping that going for a nicer place that was more expensive, would mean us not having to move around so damn much. I just hope the neighbor isn’t a pest or a complainer and that management doesn’t give us any hassles and that the neighborhood dogs, kids and stereos aren’t a problem. As for dogs outside barking, he says that seems unlikely, though it was hard to tell if there were yards in back that could accommodate dogs. That reminds me, there’s an enclosed yard in front. I like that much. Also, there’ll be places to hang my wind chimes, unlike in that triplex. As for stereos, he said it’s a main drag where the street is wide and they go cruising by at 35 MPH, so we may hear them going down the street, but they can’t park outside our wall to sit and blast the damn thing for hours at a time. I’m sure there’ll be occasional outbursts of various noises, but if I can at least have my sleep and hear myself think most of the time, I’ll be ok till I get fed up enough to take the poison Tom says he’s going to research and get for me as soon as he can for the next time the shit hits the fan. I’ve been fed up, believe me. It’s just that I didn’t have a sure way to kill myself without botching it up and making my life worse. It’d be all I’d need to throw myself in front of a car just to end up paralyzed and in a funny farm that’s no better than jail. I know good and well that most funny farms don’t help. They punish.

I just hope the toilet works ok and that the shower doesn’t come out in one fiercely concentrated stream like the one in here does. A part of me hopes he does move us come Saturday. Then I won’t have to change the sheets either.

I just wish we didn’t have to have a lease! Ok, so it’s only for 6 months, but if that nice lady moves and is replaced with trouble right after we move in, it’s going to be an awfully long 6 months.

I was right in assuming we wouldn’t be able to save money so easily, and that we’ll pretty much be living paycheck to paycheck, but that’s ok. I’ve already resigned myself to the fact that we’ll never have anything we want. No house in the woods, no house by the beach, no house in a retirement community, no successful eBay store, no nothing, so why save? Also, if they fire Tom after a few more months, he’ll be eligible for unemployment, so there’s no real need to save for that either. I am, however, going to still be able to have a monthly allowance! At least it looks that way. I don’t know how long it’ll last, but if I have to have a second-best life, at least I can go shopping while I’m at it!

I hope that after all this time, the cold weather that’s settled in doesn’t finally kill my plants off before I can rescue them and get them indoors. It’s only 28˚ out there right now – yuck! The fog looks pretty cool, though. There are some huge mountains boarding the town and you can see clouds of fog shrouding the tops of them.

Another con to being in cold climates is that you get a lot of engine-gunning cuz you can’t just start up the engines that fast unless you have a new and expensive car.

Another night of no one to the right. I was worried they were going to put someone in there, though, cuz I could hear them in there talking loud and clear over my sound machine, as I was nodding off yesterday afternoon.

A few times a day I hear a dog barking in back, but it’s nothing. It’s just a few scattered barks. It doesn’t go on and on for hours like in Arizona.

Well, I should go do my workout now.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 20, 2004 I spoke with Mr. Semi-Serious, as he’s now become, and from what he said, this place is notorious for druggies. He kicked the people next to us out a few days ago for that and showed me a room across the way where someone smashed the table and threw the microwave on the floor. This is exactly why I wouldn’t want to be a motel owner on top of the constant demands and huge responsibility it would be.

One of the room keys didn’t work in this shit of a dump. He gave me another one, but it’s just as worthless. Oh well. I shouldn’t be going out too often, and when I do, it won’t be for more than a few minutes. Besides, this is an unlikely place for a break-in.

Again there was no one next to us. It’s been quite dead, actually, so it’s been quiet.

I wonder if he’s going to move us when we sign up for another week. He said something about having to do that every week the last time we were here, but he also said he couldn’t rent by the month. He’s one dumb-ass Arab, that’s for sure! But with the separate room and his place being the quietest, I’m willing to put up with a little stupidity.

I guess Shelvin didn’t take the rabbit they let run around loose, cuz I just saw it.

I must be getting more psychic again, cuz I told Tom the other day that I didn’t vibe us pulling out of storage by November. Also, this morning I woke up knowing we’d be here another week, and once I talked to him, that does look like how it’s going to go. It appears we’re on for moving in on the 29th, so 9 more days in motels. What an ironic coincidence that our 6-month sentence is going to occur almost to the date of the one I got on account of the sickos. We still don’t know for sure that we are going to take the end unit of the triplex, but we probably will. Unless the neighbors are really a killer of a nightmare or there’s a problem with management, we’ll probably renew the lease too, cuz where else would we go but to another rental somewhere?

Got a card, but no money, of course, from the immortal queen Marjorie yesterday, telling us how wonderful everyone’s doing there, how much fun she’s having doing puzzles, all about the kitten, etc. She was glad to get my letters, she said, and I was like, she was glad to get my letters saying how miserable we are? Gee, thanks!

Then the bitch says she hopes our luck has changed by now. Now how can it change that fast? We’d have to hit the lottery big time to get out of this kind of jam that fast. As the saying goes, it only takes a second to hit rock bottom, but quite a while to climb back up. With the way the motels eat so much of his checks, there’s no way we could recover from this one that fast. It’ll be months before we do. I may not even get to have a $100 allowance, though I’d gladly take $50 - $75 to be in a bigger, quieter place if I had to. It’s Wednesday, the day they come out with new listings, so maybe they’ll have a small house in a decent enough area, though I doubt God would be nice enough to let us have that. That would defeat the whole purpose of Him dragging us back to the city unless he put a pack of freeloaders next to us all over again. Still, it’s the banging that’s got me worried. That’s the biggest issue when you live adjacent to others, so maybe I’ll take the damn freeloaders. They can’t be outdoors year-round like they can in Arizona.

I also got to thinking about this kitten shit, and if Miss Perfect’s supposed to have such bad allergies, what’s the stupid fuck doing with a kitten? See, I really think she and the queen lie or exaggerate when it comes to their wide collection of chronic illnesses. I really do.

We joked about me sending a note with no return address or stamp and saying, “I’m so sorry to make you foot the postage, but we’re so broke we can’t even afford stamps and I didn’t want to be rude by ignoring your letter.”

Fuck the bitch, though. Just fuck her and her perfect little daughter and Dave, too! Oh, how a part of me hopes she doesn’t send birthday/Christmas money just so I can tell her off. I’d love, love, love to give her a piece of my mind, though that’s another thing I doubt I’ll get the opportunity to do. I mean, I have plenty of reason to as it is, but that’d really give me an abundance of reason. At this point, I haven’t got a guess as far as that goes. At first I thought she probably would send the money, then I thought she wouldn’t, because if you don’t care that one’s homeless, why would you care about their birthday/Christmas? Now, though, the woman is so warped that I can’t even predict what she’ll do as far as that goes anymore. On the one hand, we could always use any extra money we get, though I want that final straw to motivate me to tell her off. I’m not going to tell her off if she’s going to send money on birthdays, anniversaries and Christmas. Naturally, I wouldn’t write anything threatening if I did end up telling her off so that when she goes running to the pigs like Arizonans love to do, they won’t have shit on me. Especially with me up here. However, what I’m going to say will surely enrage the hell out of them, but that’s good. That’s what I want. I want them to feel some of the fury I’ve been feeling lately. I hope I do hurt their poor, poor fragile little feelings. I’m not just out to vent pent-up feelings that date back to when Tom and I were newlyweds with the queen stealing our time and money and being more of a daughter to us than a mother or a mother-in-law, I’m out to piss them off and break their little hearts any way I can! Really, this card has done nothing to cheer us up in any way. It was nothing but another demonstration of Marge S’s true selfishness. If anything, it only infuriated me more. Nonetheless, that’s my current plan. If she stiffs us, I let her have it, and fuck the inheritance. All 20 grand would do is provide temporary relief, then we’d return to the day-to-day struggling we were meant to do. I’m not going to discuss the fuck-you letter with Tom or else I’ll end up letting him talk me out of it, though I did mention it briefly. It’s just that I’ve let him talk me out of too much over the years as it is when it comes to handling others or just various situations. I succumb and give in to him too much. A person has to handle things their own way every now and then, so no more relenting. At least not when it comes to her. Meanwhile, he totally agrees with my blowing her off like he blew off Miss Perfect’s email. Besides, it’s nice for them to see how it feels to get ignored. Miss Perfect and Dave ignored my email, so now they can get a taste of their own medicine for a change and see how it is. They’ve all got their heads buried so deep in the sand, though, that they’re not going to have a clue as to why we’re ignoring them, but that’s the least of my concerns right now. I have more important things to contend with than them.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 19, 2004 I finally have some good news for a change, and that’s that we’ve been officially approved for the triplex and even a more expensive duplex with a garage that’s said to be attached to a lady in her late 50s. If she wasn’t a complainer, how I’d love to have a neighbor like that! It’ll never happen, though. I know we’re going to get younger people next to us with small kids, and if it is just one parent that works during the week, them and their brats being home all night and all weekend will make up for any times they’re not there. Anyway, we’ll probably end up in the triplex, which someone looked at not too long ago, not surprisingly. The triplex would be more affordable, so we’ll probably go there and I’ll just deal with the neighbor’s bumps and bangs. He has an appointment to look at it tomorrow.

If only the Phoenix house wasn’t such a dump and we had normal neighbors! We owed so little on that house and our expenses weren’t overly bad.

It looks like we’re not going to be able to get to the Chinese place this weekend either, and I’m beginning to wonder if it’s even meant to be. After all, women never are where I’m concerned, and just maybe she would’ve made us a little money on the side and that’s why I’m being kept away from her. Well, I’m not going to “fight” to get to a damn restaurant, so if I don’t make it back within a couple of weeks, I’m not going to bother.

In other good news, Tom’s virtually certain they’re going to keep him at work, although he’s going to try to find a better job. I doubt God will let him find a better job anytime soon, though I’m at least glad He didn’t hate us enough to let the sickos hinder us from an apartment or to let him get fired. This doesn’t mean I still don’t hate His guts just because He only pushed us to the edge of a cliff and not off it. That’d be like an abused wife forgiving her husband simply because he broke her arms and not her legs, too.

It just bothers me that the things we try to escape keep coming back to haunt us. Like the bills we thought we’d escaped forever. Most of them are back all over again.

There’s no one on either side of us, so that’s good.

Later…

Tom and I talked and our tentative plan is to go to the Chinese place on the first Sunday of November and take our first clump of play money on the first payday of December. Things have a bad habit of not going our way, though, so I won’t count on these things happening. We don’t even know how many more weeks we’ll be here at the motel.

This little scavenger of a rat manages to find goodies in every room we stay in. This time around it was a piece of black licorice. He’s been matching my schedule more so these days. Now that I’m sleeping throughout the nights, he’s up well into the mornings.

My allergies are a little fritzy. I can tell they don’t do a great job cleaning here. Who knows when the last time was that they vacuumed under the bed? Who knows how old that licorice was?

It’s cold, damp and cloudy out right now. The kind of weather that puts you in a lazy mood. Actually, I’m in the mood to write, but write what? Perhaps I ought to dive back into No Escape. It’s just that I had been hoping to wait till we were in someplace and I could get the bulk of it for reference, which is stored on my desktop. All this laptop has is the last page and a half of the story, and the last 30 pages of journaling.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 18, 2004 It wasn’t until this early morning that I finally caught up on my sleep. Friday night at the La Vista I woke up at 10:30 after barely 5 hours of sleep, making the next day tiresome for me. We went up to the land first. Nothing’s been messed with. I was amazed to find the plants looked even healthier, though the big leaf one finally gave up. That’s okay. It looked horrible and its pot was chipped. After grabbing a few more things and leaving the land, which of course, I did not want to do, we went to look at the triplex again.

It’s really squeezed in there by trees and other buildings, that’s for sure. There’s a duplex right next to it. I was wrong in saying the housing situation was different than Arizona because it’s not. You’re either all jammed in close together or you’ve got hundreds of feet in between. There’s really not much of a happy medium here either. There were also a few yards in the area with dogs, one being across the street.

The hill it’s on is so steep. It’s on 7th Street, and I guess the summit is on the next street over on 6th Street. We peered through the windows and saw some immediate pros and cons. The living room is huge and appears to have new carpet, so that’s good. The kitchen and bedroom appeared adequate, but the bedroom wasn’t carpeted. We couldn’t see all of the bedroom or any of the bathrooms. What worried me the most was that next door’s kitchen was right next to the bedroom of the end unit we want, and we don’t know if there’s a bedroom closet and if it’s between their kitchen and the bedroom if there is. My biggest fear of moving in there, obviously, would be God jumping to take advantage of that by sending me some cabinet-happy neighbor. As it is, I picture us with someone who’s home all day. If we don’t get stuck with freeloaders, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if we got a couple with a little brat and one of its parents stood home all day with it. Tom, though, thinks it’s less likely because of the location and the fact that it’s not the cheapest 1-bedroom, saying that it’s usually when you get the cheapest of whatever that there’s trouble. Again, though, noise curses find a way to get through anything, and that dividing wall looked awfully thin. They build them thin because the builders don’t care since they’re not the ones who are going to have to live there, and most people are the opposite of me; they want to hear what’s going on around them. You know how people are, always loving to stick their noses into other people’s business. This is a complaining state too, so I wonder if I’d be able to sing there without anyone giving me any shit about it. I would think I’d have an easier chance of singing there without any hassles as opposed to a motel where there are more people milling around. Tom has a point, though, in saying that there wouldn’t be much traffic along that street. The road actually forks, and while they’re allowed to park in front of their houses on the opposite side of the street, which is higher than the other side, they can’t park by this duplex. I just don’t like that it’s $350 with only water/sewer/trash included. Heat and electricity, which are the two biggies, aren’t included. I’d like to think, though, that that and the fact that it’s on such a steep hill (not even Jehovah’s demons should be wanting to climb up there to bug people), will keep the middle unit empty for a while, but I doubt it. I think that if we get in there, God will send us neighbors right away. People, people, people. Why does He want me with them? Why is it so damn important to Him that I don’t isolate myself from others??? Why can’t I have my own quiet, private little corner of the earth where no one bothers me?

We also hope the area’s wired for cable, or else we’ll be stuck with an old dial-up modem that takes forever!

We also looked at a strip of studios, though I thought the location looked horrible. It may be convenient, but it’s practically right off of a gas station which is off a busy intersection. I’d think the car stereos there would be in abundance.

There’s also a house available, but it’s in Mills Addition (a shabby area) right by a school.

Anyway, this triplex is in sort of a dumpy area off downtown, though it’s pretty ritzy compared to places I’ve lived in Springfield.

I don’t know how long we’ll be in KF, period. This place has no hold on us now that we can’t live in the woods, which was why we came here in the first place. Because we’ve been surprised lately with finding out that things we thought were so really aren’t so, perhaps coastal land isn’t as expensive as we thought. Particularly in southern Oregon or northern California. Washington would be too expensive cuz that’s where Microsoft is. Plus, I think I’d hate that climate. Too Massachusetts-like with nothing but rain, rain, rain. Too much rain gets as old as too much heat and sunshine.

We checked in with Mr. Serious, who seemed a bit nicer this time around, into a 2-room for $175. That’s better than the $210 at the La Vista we were paying and what the Mexicans cost us at Tina’s when they were here. I’m so glad they’re gone now! Sure enough, Mr. Serious said I missed out on some good money while they were here. Of course I did. There’s a no-making-money-allowed rule on me.

He offered us a room with a kitchenette for $650 a month, saying that if we decided to stay the winter, he’d make us a better deal. While this is a smoking deal, considering the fact that you’d have no bills to pay and don’t do your own cleaning, there’d be no internet access, and the room is so small I’d surely go insane of claustrophobia. Plus, the bathrooms suck here. The only good thing about it was that it didn’t have any rooms adjacent to it. It would be a last resort if the Arizona sickos did end up hindering us from getting a place.

They’re up now next door. Yeah, it was pretty quiet until they came banging in last night. These walls are pathetically thin. So much so that I could make out a few words here and there. Someone just went into the bathroom, which is next to the enclosed room I’m in and coughed. Then they flushed the toilet. I don’t know why he put them in there when he knows I don’t like that. It doesn’t appear to be a full house, leaving him no choice. Oh well. I slept well, and hopefully they’ll check out today and no one will come in tonight. At least they check in later here than they seemed to at the other places.

The only thing I don’t like about this place, besides the fact that it’s so rundown, and they’re banging and slamming God-knows-what over there, is that there’s not one single outlet in the separate room. Therefore, I’m running the sound machine on batteries. Because it’s quiet most of the time here, though, I can usually just wear an earplug.

It feels nice to feel rested after going so many days without enough sleep. I know to enjoy it too, as it’ll be a while before I sleep this well again. Especially if there’s someone next to us again tonight. It wouldn’t really make much of a difference if someone were to our left, what with the way the place is laid out, but those on the right can be heard really well.

As I’ve said before, another area we’re cursed in is with toilets. The toilet at the last place clogged up twice, and this one didn’t want to flush. Tom fixed it, then offered to fix the shower for me so it wouldn’t pour out in such a fierce concentrated stream, but I assured him I’d deal with it. Part of having to live in places you don’t own means you don’t play fix-it nearly as much. Then all we have to do is hope God doesn’t go breaking our personal things like the computers more often to make up for the lack of other responsibilities.

I miss the comfort of routine. It’s just that every time I get that, I lose it. Circumstances always come up to tear down whatever it is we settle into or achieve. I know better now than to throw out boxes after they’re unpacked when we get to wherever we’re going. No matter how much I may want to stay put, we’ll be moving around again soon enough. I just don’t get it, though. In Phoenix we wanted to move so badly for so long yet we were stuck there so God could use his precious little freeloaders as instruments of torture on us. Now, we can’t stop moving!

We’ve both gained some weight back. I’m in the low 130s. I brought my exercise ball back with me since there’s room in here to bounce. I’ll settle for just a 5-pound loss since I know circumstances will just throw me back up to where I am sooner or later. That’s another one of the many lessons I’ve learned that pertain to my life – don’t bother to lose weight, it only comes back. I’m only going to diet to keep from gaining and to make myself feel better, treating myself to whatever about once a week. I also like to be in shape, so I’m going to do a cardiovascular workout on the ball, then some basic exercises to work my major muscle groups.

As much as I’d have liked to investigate “Kate” more, we skipped the Chinese place yesterday to save money. We couldn’t have picked a better day to do it too, since it was cold, blustery and rainy.

The RV’s insurance is due in December, so before that comes around, we’re going to try to either part it or sell it whole.

I miss my incense. It ran out two days ago, lasting me just a month and a half.

I got a letter from Bob. He sent his support and encouragement, unlike Tom’s wonderful family who doesn’t even care to call to find out what’s up with us and offer assistance and is still having lung problems. He’s still not sure if they’re going to move him or not.

Someone just left next door, but only one person. I know someone else is still over there because I heard two voices.

Tomorrow marks 6 weeks of motel-living. Thanks, God, thanks a real lot. This is just what we needed. Just what we always dreamed of in life.

Later…

Maybe no one is next door after all, since Mr. Serious is over there now and I don’t hear voices. Maybe the guy that was there just likes to talk to himself.

Working out with the ball felt great after not doing so for over a month. Now, though, I have nothing to do but be bored silly until he gets home with what I expect will be either good news or bad. He said he thinks they’ll give us a place, but he always thinks things will work out. He’s one of those who’s very seldom pessimistic and who thinks that ignorance is bliss and that silence makes problems go away.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 15, 2004 Yesterday was a shitty day, but there was some good to it in the end. The sleep curse has gotten ever so bad. Like NHA and jail bad. I’m more convinced than ever that I’ll have problems with sleep all my life, some times being worse than others. If I could just have a day in my life with uninterrupted sleep, though, that would be just wonderful. I knew there was only so long I could keep the schedule going. I just had hoped it wouldn’t roll till we got in the apartment since a hotel is no place to roll schedules. If I were here alone it would be a bit easier, but whenever he comes in or needs to use the phone, I wake right up. So yesterday, after just a few hours of sleep, he came in and had to call to play round 3 of trying to get our money back from the satellite people, since we can’t use the system. I felt like shit. My head and stomach ached and my heart was racing.

However, the shrimp he got was way good. For just $4, he got shrimp for me, potato wedges for himself, and biscuits for Blondie. So after a few hours, I fell back asleep and managed to sleep till after midnight. This helps for going up to the land tomorrow so we can get more stuff and I can wish we could stay there in our imaginary dome house, rather than have to return to the city and its people and noise. I also hope to go to the Chinese place on Sunday, but that’s up in the air right now. We don’t even know where we’ll be tomorrow night. I just hope to get a room with a separate room in it at Mr. Serious’s (the Arab guy) if we were going to be forced to play motel for another week or two or more. Then we can be back listening to neighbors just like old times. I dread it as much as I look forward to it. I dread the bumps and bangs I’ll have to deal with, but I also want out of these fucking motels! I want to be able to at least try to save money, try to shop, try to get back into fitness, etc., and of course, I miss my stuff. I’ll be damned if I’ll pack Bailey away again like this, once I do get her. I didn’t pay $300 just to have her sit in a fucking box!

Tom filled out the application for AAA Property Management, but the black sickos may be a problem. Yes, even after not having them in our lives for a year and a half now, they may be back to haunt us yet again. This is because this place does criminal checks. Why, I don’t know. I mean, I can see the credit checks, but as long as they’re getting their money, why should they care about records? What I wonder, though, is will we ever be 100% free of the fucking sickos? Or maybe at least 90% free of them?

I have mixed emotions about the queen sending birthday/Christmas money. On the one hand, I want the money. On the other, I want an excuse to really give the bitch a piece of my mind, along with her daughter, just because I can and because it would make me feel so good to do so. They’ve offended and insulted us enough that I’m more than overdue for a good telling off to them!

I don’t understand how I could make his coworkers and others sick without even trying, yet no matter how much I try to mentally throttle this bitch, she won’t even sneeze! This pathetic piece of shit is going to live another decade easily. The more I think about it, the more I believe she feigned most of the illnesses she’s claimed to have since Dad died. Yes, she was misdiagnosed by some of the quacks she’s seen, but I still think a lot of these chronic and or terminal diseases were complete fabrications on her part. After all, I was right in suspecting the selfish bitch could write, and well, it’s just a gut feeling that goes along with being better and better aquatinted with her selfish personality over the years. I think she could even live alone if she wanted to. She’s slow, but she’s not disabled. She’s only living with Miss Perfect because it’s easier and because she’s a sympathy junkie.

I learned part of why this place is packed so much of the time. According to the owner, there are workers here who are working on the new Walmart Supercenter, some bridge somewhere, and some other thing.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 14, 2004 God’s little bum here, signing in for another round of bitching. Not only am I furious at God for letting this happen to us, but oh how I’d love to get a hold of Tom’s mother! Oh, what I could do to her right about now, and I don’t give a shit how old and feeble she is! I never thought she of all people would cause me to be as disgusted and ashamed as I’ve come to be of her. I don’t give a shit that she doesn’t give a shit about me, but certainly it’s got to hurt Tom somewhat to see his multi-thousand-dollar mother sit on her lazy, hypochondriac ass while he barely keeps his head above water. If we don’t get anything for Christmas, she’ll hear from me one last time if I’m still alive. With nothing to lose, it’ll at least make me feel a little better to tell her off. Really, she makes me sick! And so does her shit daughter!

Anyway, it appears I’m still very much a doom psychic since I’m going to be right about us not making it into an apartment this Saturday. Tom thinks I’m still more than a doom psychic, though, because he’s already better when he shouldn’t be. What with the symptoms he had, he should’ve gotten worse than he did, and for 7-10 days, too. Being a doom psychic is fine, and I’m glad he got better so quickly, but why can’t I psych out the lottery?! Stupid question, I suppose, since the answer’s obviously because God wants us to suffer and to struggle. They won’t even let Tom see places till he fills out an application, and of course they’re going to want to pull a credit report, which thanks to the bastard back down at BOA, is going to be less than perfect.

Again, I can’t believe how one man’s spite could turn people’s lives upside down and inside out! It’s scary to know how others can have such a hold on us and that they can make us or break us at will. All this shit for over a year now, thanks to this one sick cock. And as always, it goes without saying that there’s not a damn thing we can do about it to fight back in any way. No, our wonderful God has this sick fuck well protected.

The events of my life do nothing to help my self-esteem, either. Normally, as an adult, I don’t care what others think or say about me, but just like a child loses confidence and self-esteem when their parents are always cutting them down, God’s apparent lack of concern for me has a way of making me not give a damn about what happens to me any more than He does. It’s making me think of turning inward and against myself. It’s like…if he doesn’t give a shit and if he thinks I deserve to suffer, then maybe I do. Perhaps I should abuse myself right along with Him and with others. Yeah, let’s all pick on the horrible Jodi S, why don’t we? Let’s make sure she and her husband live like poor-ass bums with nothing to live for but hopeless dreams. Let’s make sure she never even has money to buy another doll, for Christ’s sake! Even life’s simple pleasures are gone for me. I can still take a bubble bath, but I can’t get dolls, I can’t get more incense, I can’t get new clothes, I can’t get shit! I’m tired of wanting things I can never have, goddamn it! If I ever want to feel like something up there is on my side and gives a damn about me, all I’d have to do is get down on my knees and pray to scrape pennies like hell, miss out on doing/having the things I want, to be woken up constantly and to have to listen to noisy neighbors. Now those would be prayers/goals that are totally achievable.

Why does Tom want to continue living this way anyway? What’s it going to take for him to see that things are never going to improve but maybe for 5 minutes? Why does he want to go on living while God sits up in the sky and laughs his ass off at his expense? Does he want to be God’s little fool?

I guess the next step is to get a loan against the truck and the RV since God would never let us get away with stealing. Before we know it, we’ll be getting loans against our fucking lives! I mean, really, what do we do when we run out of stuff to sell? Should we sell our souls?

As for my schedule, I couldn’t hold out past noon yesterday, but sure enough, I woke right up 5 hours later when he got in. Then I fell asleep for a few hours in the evening and awoke again at 10:30. Now if I could just stay up for 16-18 hours, I can finally be up throughout at least most of the daytime.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 13, 2004 Tom is going to fill out an application and hopefully check out apartments too, after work. Typical Mr. Optimistic, telling me that logically speaking, the noise/sleep curses will be off once we get in someplace. Yeah, right! I wish to hell he could be right, but I know I’ll be cursed in these departments for the rest of my life, especially with the sleep. Some curses simply just don’t go away. Not overnight, not slowly. All I can do is just suffer through it and live with it, for once again, God’s got me trapped in a situation I can’t escape from anyway, so what choice do I have but to kill myself? And damn Him to hell for not allowing me the ability to keep a schedule and for giving me insomnia. Being in the city, I could work and double our income, but that’s another thing we’re cursed with – money, which is probably why I don’t have what it takes to work. Until they come up with real home jobs, and I know they won’t, I won’t be working outside of the house. I’m totally convinced that God made sure I’d be sleep-cursed not only to keep us from making extra money now but to make sure we end up struggling after Tom’s retired.

Financial struggling. Can’t imagine life without it. Tom still thinks we’re going to save a ton of money and have a life while we do so, but I know better. I’m sure all kinds of emergencies will come up to steal whatever we save. If we were meant to have money, we wouldn’t be in this predicament. I just look forward to the day his mother finally goes belly-up so we can at least have a temporary respite from the everyday scraping of pennies. That’s how I figure our lives will be – mostly struggling with occasional bursts of comfort. I know my allowance and shopping will be temporary like last time, too. If I were meant to have the dolls I’ve been wanting, I wouldn’t have wanted them for as long as I’ve wanted them. Do you know how many years I’ve had my heart set on some of these custom-made dolls? Too many!

Anyway, I’m not going to give God the satisfaction of seeing me break down in tears while He’s laughing his ass off when the neighbors get door-slammy on us, stealing my peace when I’m trying to read or work on the computer and waking me up every other day. Also, I’m so sick of bouncing around like a fucking basketball, so no matter how bad it gets, I’m staying put with no tears! Every time the bumps and bangs get to me, I’ll think of how I can enjoy the easy convenience of mailing mail from our door, receiving mail at our door, ordering pizzas if we want to, dumping trash with no problem, not having to worry about wells or having to spend a fortune on things that break. When the hot water tank blows or the roof leaks, it’s not our time and money gonna be spent on fixing it!

I wonder if Pa ever pleads with God – Give the poor girl a break! You’ve taken so much from her, so must you take her sleep, too? It’d be nice if he’d at least let me have that much if He’s going to make me live in the city, but I know I’ll never get that, so why bother to hope?

Tom’s cold hasn’t turned out to be too bad, so that’s good. He hasn’t had to miss work.

Speaking of the usual sleep curse that’s very much a part of my life, as always, well, I’m dealing with that right now. Couldn’t imagine life without it. I had hoped to sleep into the evening yesterday, but sure enough, he woke me up when coming into the room. I didn’t hear him enter, but the room brightened so much with the way the sun shines on the door at that time and that’s what woke me. I took Benadryl and crashed last night from 11:00 to 3:00, and am bound and determined, as hard as I know it’ll be, to stay up till this evening. I want to not only be available to move this weekend if that’s what’s going to happen (though I’m beginning to have my doubts), I want to be available to go up to the land to get some more things and water the plants, and maybe to the Chinese place too, unless he doesn’t think we should spend the money just yet by going there.

That triplex we looked at still has two vacant units, and I can’t help but think, wouldn’t it be nice if I could talk Kate into moving into one if we do? I know that’ll never happen, but I can dream, can’t I? Dreams are about all I have at this point. Like the one where I magically fall on schedule and stay on it while I work at the Chinese place when Kate does so, she can drive me to and from the place, honored to do so, happy to get whatever time and attention she can from me.

I’m amazed at how often this place is filled up. Again, it makes me wonder if it isn’t cuz we’re here and if this isn’t another classic example of how we do so well at making others money. I bet business will die down when we leave. I don’t hear voices or the TV next door, but they never fail to let me know when they come and go. Whether it’s cuz of our presence or not, I still can’t believe there are so many people traveling at this time of year! I thought they were mostly truckers, but there are an awful lot of cars around for it to be mostly truckers.

I am so, so tired. This is totally the middle of the night for me and my body wants so badly to sleep! However, I know I’ll be glad I did it if I stay up. Then all I’ll have to do is hope I don’t get banged up by whoever’s going to come slamming in next. Meanwhile, I’ve got to try to keep myself entertained and busy somehow. It’s just that TV bores me, reading tires me out, and there’s only so much writing and listening to music I can do. I sang a bit earlier. Maybe I’ll do some more.

Later…

I’m still awake, though barely. I just went to dump some trash in their dumpster here. Those Mexies love to loiter outdoors, no matter what the weather. They really hate being indoors. What the hell are some of them doing there at this time anyway? Aren’t they supposed to be slaving away on the farm?

The number of pigs I see here really annoys me. We weren’t even out an hour yesterday evening when we went to Safeway and to KFC, yet we saw 3 squad cars. I questioned Tom as to whether or not they’re as crazy as they are down in Arizona since the place is constantly swarming with them, but he saw something that made him think they’re not as quick to jump on a person for every little thing they do. Some cock was panhandling when a cruiser went by. Tom saw the guy tuck his sign under his shirt and saw that the pigs saw it anyway but didn’t do anything. Well, I just hope I never have to find out just what the pigs and law are like here! If God could refrain from sending someone to provoke me into kicking their ass, I’d really appreciate it as that’d really help to ensure that I don’t get to know the local pigs/jail. It really frustrates me when trouble seems to come my way no matter how much I try to avoid it. Doing things to provoke others and asking for trouble is one thing, but what is this shit with me trying to mind my own business and go about my life in peace, yet I still get trouble? I keep trying to tell myself, relax, this isn’t Phoenix, what happened there was a fluke, history doesn’t have to repeat itself, but I can’t do that. It’s just too hard for me to think positively when the same old sorry shit happened to me over and over, year after year. As far as I can see, I have no reason to be hopeful and every reason to be fearful.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 12, 2004 Tom has a cold, I’m sorry to say. Apparently, I’m still immune to colds, but I’m no longer able to protect him and that worries me. All my powers are pretty much history, save for negative predictions and keeping myself from illness. As it is, I’m starting to wonder if we’re going to make it out of here this weekend. He’s trying, though. He got updated lists and spoke with the property management people some more. I would still prefer a house, but I can see he prefers a duplex. This is because they’re cheaper and would cost less to heat. He doesn’t want us to have to skimp and be uncomfortable when it comes to heat, but that’s all we do is skimp. Our whole life is skimping this, compromising that, and all kinds of sacrifices and settlements, so does it matter? House, duplex – they’ll all suck either way, so I don’t really care so long as we get the hell out of motels.

A lot of people think renting is bad because you lose the money, but look how easy it is for some of us to lose houses, so what difference does it make? I don’t want to own anything again as much as I’ll always wish I could.

This motel, as much as I want out, continues to be the best so far, save for the fact that it’s got no internet access or another room. They don’t bug us here, and the room next door is usually quieter than they were in other places. They get on my nerves occasionally with the door-slamming and attention-getting tactics like that, but I don’t hear voices and TVs like at other places.

I still think of suicide periodically, and that it may be best since we go through so much more shit than good. I’m more and more convinced that life will be one long-term problem after another as long as we live. At our age, I just don’t see how things could get better. I’ve at least agreed to give Mr. Optimist time to see that no, we can’t get a quiet place. Not even in the tiny town of Klamath Falls. A noise curse is a noise curse. It will get us wherever it can. It doesn’t care where we go. As long as it can stick next to us just one loud, rude, obnoxious asshole that just won’t shut up, it will. Meanwhile, when he can finally see and admit that old curses and patterns really do have a way of following us no matter where we go and that life will continue to be everything we don’t want it to be and nothing we do want it to be, he’s agreed to research poison online as a possible way of killing ourselves. There are too many risks with hanging and shit like that, so he’s going to investigate some form of poison. One would think there are some fast-acting poisons out there, though at this point, if I have to suffer 5 minutes of hell before I die, it may be worth it to get to nothingness in the end, rather than put up with 50 more years of hell on earth.

I don’t understand why God doesn’t take his mother. All she’s doing is taking up space and burdening others while we could really use her help, and the only way she could help us at this point is to get dead. I mean, damn that bitch! It just won’t fucking die! I’ve been putting spells on her like crazy yet I know it’s worthless. The selfish bitch has got God’s protection and many years left in her. On the other hand, does it really matter if she takes 10 more years to die? We’ll still need money then too, if we’re still alive.

We had a couple of cold days, but they say it’s to warm up to around 80˚ within the next few days. Not bad for mid-October.

Tom brought in my box of Barbies that’s been in the truck. That way I can personalize the place a bit and feel like we have something around that’s ours other than clothes. I’ve only got a few displayed, though, since there’s only so much room in here, and what with the rat running loose a lot.

We took a walk earlier. I just felt like I had to get out. I didn’t want Tom to accompany me. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate his company, it’s just that he was sick and I wanted him to rest. Still, he insisted on tagging along, so I let him.

I never did get sick, like I said, but I was so rundown. All I did was sleep for the last few days, though I’m still on nights. I just can’t seem to get onto days to save my life, but oh well. I’ll sleep when I sleep. If things could go our way for once – just for once – I should only have one more move coming up for a while and that’s to the apartment.

I can’t stop thinking of that waitress. I hope I get to see her this Sunday, but I might not if I can’t push my schedule up or pull it back. I won’t be able to give her my number this Sunday if we’re not in someplace by then. If I’m right about her liking me, just handing her my number should be enough of an incentive for her to call me, but I’d rather have dolls and incense as a hook, and I won’t have that till we are in a place. Still, I wonder, will she really call? And if so, just what kind of friendship could we have?

I guess I’d have to say I doubt we’ll get together in any way shape or form. Look how many times in the past I thought I’d be getting together with various people, yet I never did. Because women were always so not meant to be, not that I’d want a relationship with this woman, God will send her a girlfriend right around the time I get my number to her. I just don’t see Him letting me be even just friends with a gay or bisexual woman.

On the other hand, do I really want to have a lover on the side who gets off on me and whom I get off on? Nah. As exciting as the prospect of variety may seem, I don’t really need that. When Tom doesn’t cum, it’s for a reason, and as “abnormal” and as “freakish” as that may be, we both don’t want a child, so it’s okay. Again, I know it could be for other reasons that he doesn’t cum, but I still have a hard time buying Helen’s it-just-doesn’t-quite-feel-good-enough literature. I think he’s very much in control of himself, and I think he’d not cum in any unprotected woman. This doesn’t mean he’d get squirt-happy if I suddenly had a hysterectomy, though, cuz that’d be admitting to both himself and to me that I was right. Besides, he’s gotten himself so accustomed to not cumming, and when you don’t get that horny that easily or that often, holding back isn’t so hard to do.

I still don’t see what this woman sees in me anyway. Can’t she see how chunked out I am?

With Tom’s work probation period being up in just two weeks from now, we’re both anxious and nervous. It’s nerve-wracking to know that just like others have, they could take our lives and trash them, but at the same time, we want to hurry up and get the probation over with.

I’d like to think God can have the heart to say to Himself that these people have been picked on enough. They’ve lost so much that I’m not going to take the job, too. They’ve been taken for enough and their lives are in shambles, so I’ll at least spare them the loss of the job.

But I can’t count on this. It’s because of all He has taken from us that worries me. If He could take the things He has and if He could prevent us from achieving such ordinary goals, He could take our lives in His hands and crush the life right out of them if He wants us dead, and dead is just how we’ll get if He does strip us of what little we have left.

If we do live, we’re still going to save as much as we can, even though we’ll be in apartments for years, because we’ll need the money for if he gets fired or laid off in the future, and that’s bound to happen. It happens to the best of us. We also still want to go to San Francisco to get that mannequin I’ll have to move around like crazy, and on a cruise as well. You can bet your ass we’re going first class when we do! As in hotels with a capital H where they’ll wait on us as if we were royalty.

I decided not to bother getting the fillings I need. I just don’t want to put extra money in my mouth or go back to playing appointments, so if I let them just decay, there’ll be no teeth to have to worry about. We play fix-it enough outside of my mouth that I don’t need to play it inside of it as well.

Oregon is one “regular” state. I don’t think I’ve gone a day without shitting, except for when I took those anti-diarrhea pills.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 10, 2004 My schedule is all botched up now. I fell asleep at 5:30 yesterday morning and Tom woke me up over and over again. He went in and out a few times and woke me up each time he came and went, then twice with the bathroom door. So, I got up at noon and we went to Mollie’s. Then we returned to the room and he took off to run some errands while I had a fluent conversation in Spanish with the housekeeper (I was proud of how well I did!) Then he returned and I insisted he stay inside and sit still so I could go back to bed, and I did. I slept for 5 hours, yet ironically, I was still groggy. So after being forced to watch TV with him, I stood up for a few hours, then when 9:00 rolled around, I asked him to cut the TV so I could relax in peace, thus crashing for another hour or so. I got up to listen to music and then I laid around till now, and I’m wondering – what in the world has me so damn drained?! Just the usual sleep curse, I guess, plus the stress of motel life, never knowing from day to day what’s going on. I wish I could have some security and stability in my life and break free of the 13-year sleep curse that’s been put on me, but that’ll never happen. Oh, I may get temporary security and stability at some point, but a week in my life without having my sleep disrupted? Yeah, right!

I said I didn’t miss Arizona, and I don’t. However, if it was a choice between this life and the one back in Maricopa (minus the sickos), I think I would happily take that old life back and settle for the lack of privacy, the ferocious heat, the land being trashed, the place reeking of horse shit, etc. Even the occasional sonic booms beats life in the city.

I don’t know where my schedule’s heading. I’d like it to flip around, which would mean going to bed at around noon and hopefully staying that way for at least 8 hours if he could sit still and be quiet enough. He’s driving me nuts with the fucking TV. That’s all he does when he’s here and awake and I so miss having more than one room! Here, if I don’t want to deal with it, I can’t get away from it unless I hibernate in the bathroom. I feel like I have no space and no privacy, and it’s been worse lately, the later I’ve been getting up. I get up with the TV, I eat with the TV, I live with the TV! He rarely likes to play computer games or read, and of course, his sexual appetite is next to nil.

I still feel pretty out of it. It’s like I’m devoid of all energy and I can’t wake up. I’ve been taking my vitamins, so I don’t know what it is other than the stress and lack of sleep. The question is, why? Why is it so important to whatever put the sleep curse on me that I sleep so poorly? I’ve been asking this for years now, and the only answer I can think of makes no sense; because of the people I woke up during my years of prank phone calls. But I’ve only woken up one person for every thousand times I’ve been woken up, so if this is payback for that, then it’ll never stop punishing me for it!

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 8, 2004 Tom read the short story I wrote with Tina and Kate as the main characters. Knowing he expected them to get it on, I had them meet just like we did in real life, then meet at Kate’s place and not be able to be more than friends in the end. Then I had her look-alike sister-in-law break the news to Kate because Tina didn’t have the heart to do so herself. In the end, Kate runs into them in a store and is hurt, angry and confused at first, with the story ending with everyone agreeing to be friends. It’s only 9 pages.

Tom read the story earlier tonight, too.

It was very windy this evening. A dust storm blew in, but no rain. Just a bit of drizzle. It’s a good thing I wasn’t trying to sleep because the wind was rattling the door in its frame.

Tom talked to the guy today at the desk and he said we could stay in this room for another week, also they want to service this room tomorrow. That’d be fine with me since I don’t like to sleep on the same sheets or use the same towels for over a week, and the room needs vacuuming. So, since I’m not going to fall asleep till close to dawn, I’ll have to have my sleep broken up. I’ll have to get up a few hours after falling asleep, but I can go back to sleep afterward.

Tom and I were reading some incredible land/house deals for just a couple of grand to about 20 grand, but I still think we’ll always struggle because we always have. I’m also going to be afraid to attempt to leave the city again no matter how noisy the apartment is because I’m going to fear getting stuck back here no matter how much money we save up. I’m at a tug of war, you could say, because I don’t want to stay in the city, though I’m afraid to leave it. Meanwhile, I can’t leave it, so we’re going to shoot for something in the $300 range. Tom thinks we’ll be here 6 months to a year, but at this point, I just want out of motels! I don’t care if it’s a pitiful 600 square feet at this point, I just want out of here. This motel is spacious and quieter, but it’s still a motel! I want a place where I can service us at my own convenience, rather than have someone else do it for me at their convenience.

I thought of something that may prompt the queen to send Christmas money, and that’s other people’s gifts. If other family members bring gifts there for us, then they may ship them up to us, and if they do, they may include crap of their own, including money. It’d be nice if they did, but it also wouldn’t surprise me if they didn’t bother with Christmas or my birthday. If they don’t care that we’re homeless, then why should they care about that?

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 7, 2004 Last night I told Tom I’d work on making as many of his coworkers sick as I could to lessen his chances of getting let go in the end. Ironically, the mean-looking chick who stabbed her husband had to go to the hospital today. Pleurisy, I guess it was.

I cannot wait to get into an apartment! I know it’s going to be noisy as hell, but I want another room to retreat to other than the bathroom. As soon as he gets in, that TV goes on and I’m forced to watch it whether I want to or not. I can’t read when the fucking thing’s on either so I have to wait. I can’t get any space unless he’s either working or asleep.

Mr. Optimist thinks we’ll get an ok neighbor. Well, if we do, they’ll be out of there before we even get one suitcase unpacked, and in will come Mommy with an obnoxious little brat of a kid, or a partying college kid. Nah, I doubt either of those will be the case. We’ll get the freeloaders. We always do.

He says you’re less likely to get noisy neighbors or dogs in a 1-bedroom, but noise curses don’t care. I was in a studio, for Christ’s sake, and look what a nightmare that butch was at the Vista after I complained about her, not yet knowing what a crime that was in that state. Besides, there’s nothing to say the 1-bedroom duplex can’t be next to a big house with lots of people and dogs. In the end, I think banging and car stereos will be the highlights of the noises. When I say “banging,” I mean doors slamming, cabinets closing, etc. All it takes is one ferocious neighbor. After seeing that butch make nearly as much noise as the family next to me in the NHA did, I knew it didn’t matter. A curse is a curse is a curse.

They finally woke me up here. A couple of bangs woke me up midway through my sleep. I’m worried about my schedule. I can’t seem to back it up or push it forward, and if that Arab idiot was right about it being the law that one must switch motel rooms after staying in one that they paid to stay in for a week, then we have to move yet again! Will there ever come a day when we don’t have to move every few days to a few years?!?!

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 6, 2004 Anyway, this is the second time the toilet’s clogged up, and I am not going to play fix-it with other people’s shit! If he wants to deal with it, he can, but I’ll stay out of it, thank you.

Anyway, I haven’t been woken up here so far. It seems I’ve slept better than I did on the land in this motel and in the Arab guy’s, but worse than on the land in the Townhouse and Tina’s.

Tom got a $4 and a $10 winning ticket. I just wish we could win thousands or even just hundreds!

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 5, 2004 This motel is definitely the best so far. It’s quieter and the housekeeper doesn’t pester us. I slept from 6 AM-2 PM and not once did anything wake me up.

I was thinking of Kate and wondering if she was thinking of me, too. Perhaps not at this minute, since most people are asleep at 2:00 in the morning. As much as I’m still not even close to being a people-person, I must admit we’ve met some rather interesting characters in this tiny town, and Tom agrees.

I just wish I could go to the Chinese place alone sometime and be waited on by her! I’d love to see her behavior then. But I won’t unless we end up living really close to the place so I could walk there, cuz I’d feel weird having Tom drop me off there. That’s ok, though, cuz I really believe I can take advantage of her fondness and make an incense sale or two from her in time, and play my fun little game of chase-but-don’t-capture. I find it awfully hard to believe that if I gave her my number she wouldn’t suddenly love incense even if she never did before, if only for an excuse to talk to me. I just don’t get what she sees in me, although that’s what I said about a few folks back in jail. It’s just that now I have a few more years on me and a few more pounds as well.

I had an idea that Tom likes as well. When I thought of the fact that the only two times we sold incense were in person and not online, I realized that we were going about it the wrong way by using the net. We can’t expect people to come to us, we have to go to them. So, although I don’t expect to ever make any real money by selling incense, we may make up business cards to pass out to every acquaintance we have and are going to have.

You know you’re not with your typical male when you ask your husband if he’d sleep with a woman for 50 grand and he says no. I totally believe him, too.

We read naked in bed earlier, though we didn’t do anything. Neither of us was interested, I guess you could say.

Later…

Again we didn’t do it, and therefore, I gave Tom an ultimatum because I’m not going to keep going through this with him where I’m his occasional lay. We’re either full-time lovers or no-time lovers. I’m not going to be an object of convenience for him or else I will get it on with chicks on the side and I’d have every right to, too. He said he was worried I’d have cramps, and once again, isn’t it funny how it always comes down to me? Never can he admit he has no desire and not use me as a crutch or an excuse of some kind to cover for his own lack of appetite. Isn’t it also funny how he was all gung-ho over being able to screw in a real bed, yet we’ve only done it twice since we’ve lived in motels and only at my initiation? Well, like I said, he may still get off on these games, but I’m way sick of them and this is part of why I don’t have much desire of my own to get it on with him. His games and excuses really turn me off. Maybe tomorrow, if he “remembers” to hit on me, I’ll be like, “Nah, you’re tired and so I’ve got to be considerate of that and wait,” and see how he likes it. I mean, really! Why would he wait to see if I got cramps? If he put the moves on me when I had cramps, I’d tell him, but I don’t think that’s it. I think that like me, he just wasn’t in the mood, though unlike me, he couldn’t say so. Tomorrow, though, I’ll simply tell him, “Look, let’s just wait and see if we’re ever a bit more eager than we have been.”

Meanwhile, I’ll sit here and wonder about Kate, even fantasize a bit, too. Next time I see her, I’ll get a name. Who could she be? Hmm, she kind of looks like a Margot. Maybe even a Kathy or a Diane. Could be Susan or Joanne. She strikes me as the type to have an ordinary, common name, though I don’t sense her name to be Mary. Maybe Maryanne.

It’s been a year since I cut my hair. I’d say I got a good 7 inches over the last year, and my bangs are now long enough to pull back into a high ponytail. It’s just that I’m graying so fast! I may dye it either dark brown or dark red once we get settled somewhere if we ever do get settled somewhere.

Never has the loathing and disrespect for his mother been as great as it is now. Year after year I wish she’d just drop dead so we can be comfortable, if only for a short while, yet the immortal bitch just won’t die! She’s going to live another decade with our shit luck. It’s like, come on already! You’re 81 years old, you say you got all these problems, so die bitch, die!

Anyway, I get the sense that Tom’s more disappointed than he lets on over the fact that his mother couldn't care less that he and his wife are homeless, but I expected it. I mean, I’m disappointed too, to know that someone who’s supposed to care doesn’t give a shit, but that’s how it usually works. I’m sure Kate would be more sympathetic to our situation than his family is. Hell, even Tina was more sympathetic, for God’s sake! I don’t even think we’ll get birthday/Christmas money, though he does. That’s just optimistic Tom for you.

The gay-bashing goes on and I’m sure it always will. Those against gay marriage have bumper stickers saying, “One Man, One Woman.” Why can’t those of us who hate blacks have bumper stickers saying, “One Nation, One Color?” Well, the answer to that’s easy enough – because it’s only okay to hate gays, that’s why! Tom flips through channels and I catch this religious station saying that gays and lesbians have a higher rate of mental problems, which is bullshit, then another channel has a cock saying that not even the most caring, compassionate woman can be a “dad,” and on and on and on! I realize that if there’s still so much hatred towards gays in what’s almost 2005, it’ll never get better. Never. Instead, more and more people are going to keep throwing blacks up on this pedestal they don’t deserve to be on. It’s going to be blacks and Hispanics first, then other minorities like Asians and Indians, then whites, and then gays last.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 3, 2004 The Chinese place wasn’t nearly as busy as it was the last time, we were there two weeks ago. No, we weren’t waited on by “Kate” as I call the tall, slender, dark-eyed, dark-haired, somewhat loud waitress, though it didn’t make any difference. She still chatted with me anyway whenever she’d go by. Again, I’d be really surprised if she weren’t gay and attracted to me. You just don’t normally carry on with someone else’s customer as if you’re old buddies after you’ve only seen them twice before, once without ever saying a word to them.

Shortly after we were seated, she stopped to tell me I wanted the kids’ foo young if I wanted to avoid getting too much. Then she asked…wasn’t I the one who ordered it from her and got too much? I said yes, but that this time I was going to order pork fried rice, and then she went about her business, throwing smiles at me from time to time along the way. At one point, she walked past our table, then turned back to smile at me.

As we were leaving, the waitress who waited on us went to take care of us at the register while Kate bussed our table, saying something like, “It was nice seeing you again, hun.” Then she asked how the pork fried rice was. I told her it was fine. Then, as she was walking towards me, I told her we were looking for a duplex to rent and asked if she had any suggestions. She said there was a cute one on 9th Street (I guess downtown the streets are numbered and uptown the streets just have names).

Anyway, she definitely is older. Like late 30s, early 40s. Not the greatest-looking chick, but certainly not the worst. She has a nice body and I do like dark hair and eyes, though I don’t know if her hair is dyed or not. I dig the idea of seeing her and flirting with her. I always thought flirting was fun as long as it doesn’t get out of hand like it did with Teddy Bear. On the other hand, it’s not like I literally “flirt” with her. I know Tom wouldn’t appreciate that. I wish he wouldn’t care since it’s only another woman, but I’m sure he would. He wouldn’t sit on me and stop me, but I know it’d hurt his feelings so I take this into consideration. I wouldn’t want him doing anything to hurt my feelings so I respect his. As it was, he seemed more talkative than usual, as if he was trying to distract me from what was going on around me. Would I go with her if I were single? Definitely. Like I said, she’s no Kate, Gloria or Linda, but she’s not half bad either. She doesn’t have the nicest speaking voice, though. It’s loud enough to be easily audible, but it’s a bit hoarse-sounding, suggesting she may smoke. She always wears her hair in a ponytail which is a little below the middle of her back.

Today’s experience shoots down Tom’s theory that she was only being nice the last time we saw her to get a good tip, because why would you go out of your way to be so nice and kind and chatty with someone you aren’t even waiting on that you barely know?

In other news, Tom got a scratch ticket and won $8. To save money, we’re going to eat in the motel room more often. Since they have a refrigerator and microwave, we figured we might as well use them.

I like this place a lot better than Tina’s, as nice as she was. I met the regular housekeeper today and let her know that due to my being a late sleeper, I’ll go to her when we need something. She assured me that’d be ok.

I can’t believe how nice the weather is here! Maybe it isn’t as bad as Massachusetts, though I still think that at least December - February will be bad.

Later…

I cannot believe how much quieter this motel is, not that I’m complaining, and I know there’s someone next to us. An older couple, I think.

Anyway, I tried to read, but I can’t concentrate. My mind keeps wandering to “Kate” and I wonder – is she thinking of me, too? Just because nothing can ever happen between us doesn’t make me any less curious. Again, she isn’t half bad when you consider how ugly most gay women are.

But what could she possibly see in me? She certainly can’t like me for my body, and since I still don’t yet have much in the way of hair, it must be my face, mainly my eyes. They’re the only asset I’ve got going for me at the moment. Also, just as straights seem to go for those who look like them, women tend to go for opposites. Except for the fact that we both have brown hair, she’s tall, brown-eyed and thin.

I wish we could at least be friends, but I think even that may make Tom uncomfortable. Especially when I remember how jealous he seemed to be over Kim and Kim and I were nothing to each other in that way. Still, it’s frustrating to know I could simply hand her my number and that she’d almost certainly call me, whereas I couldn’t have gotten a woman this easily when I was single if I tried, but see, that’s just it. More often than not, it’s when I don’t try for something or even go out of my way to avoid it that I end up getting it! Here I’ve got this woman I like who seems to like me, even though she may smoke and be a bit moody, maybe even airheaded, and I can’t even have a friendship with her! Oh well. There are worse things in life like being homeless and living in motels with no one in the world who gives a damn about us, including Tom’s own family. Maybe that’s another reason I want a friendship with her; so I could feel like there was one person, just one person, who gave a damn that wasn’t on the other side of the country.

I don’t want to work on my stories until I can do so on my desktop, so Tom suggested I begin another one, perhaps a short story. A very short story. Maybe I’ll do a funny story with Kate and Tina as the main characters.

Speaking of stories, here’s another uncanny case of art imitating life. One of the stories I began in Phoenix starts off with a couple who meet in a restaurant. The FBI customer likes the waitress who likes her back, though what transpires between these characters certainly couldn’t transpire between Kate and me!

I just can’t believe someone who looks like this restaurant chick could like me. Anyone who knows me knows I’ve been notorious for getting women who were so-so-looking, if not downright ugly. Only Anne Marie, Kacey and Teddy Bear were attractive, but look how long they lasted, and of course Teddy Bear and I never did more than flirt. Anyway, If you showed me a picture of everyone who works there (or at least who I know to work there) and asked me to guess which one likes me, I’d probably guess that big fat ugly blond chick that’s been there ever since we started going there. Then if someone had said I was wrong and pointed to the one that really has a crush on me, I’d have been like, “Really? No way!”

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 2, 2004 Well, here we are. We’re at La Vista. The owner’s Indian as well, and seems pretty nice. I don’t get the impression the housekeepers will be pests from the way he said he doesn’t have the rooms serviced every day in order to keep the costs down. I assured him I’d go to them when I needed something.

This room is much nicer than Tina’s and the Arab’s. It’s much roomier and even has two beds, a plush chair and a tub. We’re also on the end for once, which is nice. That is, so long as the people next door don’t go making up for it by slamming doors like they did earlier when they went out. Like I said, I can’t fathom why people feel so compelled to slam doors. And why can’t they sit still when they’re in their rooms and not keep going in and out so much?

They have a heated pool here, though I doubt anyone would want to use it. It looks pretty disgusting. It’s green like our pool in Phoenix would often be.

The Mexicans didn’t party hearty like I thought they would last night, but I can’t say I’ll miss all their bumps and bangs. Also, the ones to one side of us often blasted their TV.

I can hear the housekeeper next door now, but that’s nothing compared to when Tina’s husband and his dad would go crashing into the rooms next to ours to clean. Every day they’d wake me up, though I appreciated the favor at the same time because it helped keep me on somewhat of a schedule. Getting up at 10:00 this morning was hard after not crashing till 4:00. My body’s crying out to go off schedule. It wants to push forward so bad! I’m hoping I’ll be able to let my schedule be whatever it wants to be in an apartment, but that’ll all depend on how often they wake me up. Like I said, I’ll always be sleep-cursed, always.

I’m enjoying the modern conveniences of city life. I don’t miss the long drive up to the mountain. Neither does Tom. I realize it’s easier said than done to say we’ll escape the city the first chance we get. Why bother when we’d only end up right back in it again in a matter of time? If we can find a tolerable place here, why not stay here?

I look forward to going to the Chinese place tomorrow, though it wouldn’t surprise me if God made sure whatever-her-name-is was either not there or not able to wait on us because she’s a woman. Women weren’t anymore meant to be than rural living, and when they are, they’re never for long!

Later…

The nap I tried to fight off won me over after all. Tom went to take a nap in his bed, so the rat and I climbed into the other bed after he climbed up my pant leg for attention. With Blondie under the covers at my feet, I drifted off. It was light out when I fell asleep and dark when I woke up, telling me I must’ve been out for 2-3 hours. The fact that I slept with only the AC/heater on ‘fan only’ should tell you how quiet it is here. Those obnoxious door-slammers were actually late check-outs. Whoever’s over there now has been quiet so far. It wouldn’t hurt my feelings if they signed up for a week, but I know they’ll be gone tomorrow. I wonder how often there’ll be someone over there.

When Tom got up close to 8:30, we went to Mollie’s for dinner. I got a huge shrimp salad and he got his usual hotdog and fries.

I’m going to be up all damn night for sure. If I can sleep from 6 AM-2 PM, though, I should still be on for the Chinese place. How I hope she’s there and that she waits on us! I can’t get her off my mind. There’s just something about her. Why oh why are they always famous, taken, or available only after I’m taken? I’m not saying for sure that she’s gay/bi or that she’s even single if she is, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she was. Gay/bi, I mean. Taken, I don’t know. I just get a hell of a strong feeling she’s both gay/bi and attracted to me by the way she smiled at me so much the first time around, then hugged me the last time while telling Tom how nice he was to bring me there. I don’t know why she’d be attracted to an overweight 38-year-old, but I wish Tom was more like your average guy sexually. I don’t mean in bed, cuz I just don’t care about that anymore, but I wish he was ok with the idea of me seeing women on the side just for sex. If my heart is with him, should it matter who I give my body to? But it’s like he wants me celibate or very close to it. I can’t have much sex with him, I can’t have it with women, and so who can I have it with? Already it’s been over a week since the last time we got it on. I knew this would be the case too, but that’s beside the point. My wanting to get to know this waitress better has nothing to do with him or how often we do or don’t do it. I just don’t think it’s fair of him to expect me to be celibate just because he’s got no appetite.

I also wish he wouldn’t spend so much time with the TV going. We do everything with the TV, so it seems, and I have to wait till he’s either working or sleeping so I can concentrate on reading. I put up with it, though, cuz I know he loves TV as much as I love music. Plus, we usually read together at night, and I know he’ll be without TV for a while once we finally get settled somewhere.

I just hope I can hear myself think wherever we end up and that the neighbors don’t go waking me up like crazy or complaining about me singing. If they do – tough. I’ll be using only the headphones, or mostly the headphones, and I won’t be singing at night.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 1, 2004 Blondie’s sleeping on the bed right now, and Tom should be in soon.

Because I slept till 1:00, getting up at 10:00 tomorrow is going to be hard. At least all we’ll be doing is zipping across the street.

Last night was quieter than the night before as far as the banging goes, but I’m afraid that tonight, being a Friday night, will be rocking. Then again, I’m hoping they’ll either be too tired to raise hell or that they’ll go get drunk in bars and come back to sleep it off till we leave.

Tina (yes, it really was Tina) said that we’re welcome back in two weeks when they’re gone, but I hope we won’t have to come back and that we’ll be in an apartment somewhere for our final 6-month sentence in the city by then. I just want to stop starting over and having the life I build up torn down!

Later…

Here’s an interesting update. Did we get a check from the queen? No, but we sure did get one from BOA! It’s for $262, and supposedly, it’s because we had money in the escrow account we closed long ago. With the way they’ve ripped us off and fucked us over, and with the way we need money, it was a great surprise. As for the queen and Miss Perfect, I want nothing more to do with them and neither does Tom. Not till that bitch goes belly-up anyway if she ever does. How many years ago was she supposed to die? Something like 10? She always has a new disease yet she lives on. I don’t know if the doctors are just quacks who are telling her she has things she doesn’t have, if she’s a hypochondriac, or what, but I wish she’d hurry up and drop dead!

In other news, I got a letter from Paula, which was nice. She didn’t make any references to us being motel bums. Hasn’t she gotten the letters I’ve sent? I hope so! She did get the incense, though, which she thanked me for, and says she’s done with the Puerto Rican guy but is seeing her black pig.

I sent both her and Bob what I hope will be my last of the motel letters! I may not be able to print right away, though, if the ink is all dried up. If not, it shouldn’t be long before I can pick up some new piece of shit to print with. At least we’re now 95% sure we’ll be in someplace in a couple of weeks, rather than 50%. I just hope that it won’t be noisy there and that they don’t wake me up, but I know better. There’s no way we’d get decent civilized neighbors. Tom says that being one-bedrooms, they’ll be less likely to raise hell, but I’m sure we’ll get some form of trouble. A drunk who loves to blast music and has a zillion drinking buddies over all the time. So while we may not get screaming kids and barking dogs, I’m sure there’ll be music and lots of banging. There are pros and cons to both houses and apartments. In houses, you’re less likely to have noise/trouble, but the lease is longer. In an apartment, you can at least complain about problem neighbors, though it’s also just as easy for them to complain about you, and that’s what they do here. That bitch that complained about my stomping at the Townhouse; that never would’ve happened in Arizona, though Arizona had many other faults to make up for it.

Meanwhile, I’ll just hope that La Vista’s reasonably quiet and that the housekeepers aren’t pests.

I’m excited about this Sunday. We’re going to the Chinese place. I hope you know who will be there, but there are no guarantees she’ll be there or even be the one waiting on us if she is. Still, I look forward to my pork fried rice.