#when was it my last drama journal entry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

erospandemos · 1 year ago

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Winter's mission

Aespa Winter x Reader

Winter finds your secret diary and most importantly, your secret bucket list. Upon the discovery, she decides to fulfil every possible desire. The problem, however, is that every aspiration revolves around Winter herself.

Minjeong and you agreed to do a marathon to watch the whole drama you had both been saving up to watch. Your friend came to your house right before lunch so you could start eating with the first episode. It was just like the other times: she promised she wouldn’t get too invested and after two episodes she’d start screaming from frustration when the main leads were this close to kissing but backed away. You’d be laughing and she’d be yelling at you because it was a serious matter.

In the late afternoon, Minjeong got hungry. She begged you to get her favorite snack, the pepero sticks. You bought them two weeks ago and put them somewhere in your kitchen but didn’t remember at all. Still, your friend wanted one thing and one thing only. You tried to refuse but when she showed you her googly eyes and puffed her cheeks, you gave in. She was just too cute.

So you stood up and reluctantly made your way to the kitchen.

However, you made a big mistake by leaving the room without checking the stuff on your table, most notably your diary. Minjeong saw it clearly, the weathered journal peeking out from under a pile of books on the bedside table. She knew it wasn’t a notebook because she’d been your friend long enough to have memorized all your preferences and you were too cheap to buy such a nice diary.

Curiosity piqued, she hesitated for a moment to think if she should do it or not. She chewed her lower lip, with a light sense of guilt. You were gone to find some hidden and forgotten snack, so it should have been long enough—she had enough time. The more she waited, the more dangerous it was.

Minjeong made up her mind. She lifted the books and took out the notebook. She sat cross-legged on your bed, ready to reveal your secrets. As she contemplated opening it, a rush of adrenaline hit her veins, causing her heart to quicken and her muscles to tense up. She hasn’t even read a single letter yet but sweat was already dripping down her back.

“I probably shouldn't be doing this, but... what's the harm?” she whispered to herself, sighing deeply. “Okay, just a peek. It won’t hurt anyone.”

Minjeong took one last deep breath, her fingers trembling slightly as she started to open the diary. The creak of the leather seemed to echo in the room, she was alone. She started reading the entries, a mix of doodles, random thoughts, and personal reflections.

Some of the pages only had silly ramblings like how you noticed a game’s sale too late and had to pay 5 dollars more. Minejong giggled lightly but the adrenaline was still there. Her breathing became shallow, her gaze scanning the words on the page. As she flipped through the pages, she stumbled upon an entry that caught her off guard.

She raised her eyebrow as she started reading it:

SATURDAY 21 OCTOBER, 2023 I’m pretty sure Minjeong is playing with my heart. She’s been acting a lot more touchy lately. She was hugging my arm, hugging me and constantly touching me. She hugged me before as well since we’re friends but it just feels different these days. It’s probably because I’m a boy and she’s a girl. Even if we’ve been friends for a long time, she’s too cute for me to ignore. I think I like her. My heart beats faster when she’s around. I get nervous and fidgety. I’ve never felt like this before. It’s quite weird.

Winter's cheeks flushed with a mixture of surprise and excitement. Her curiosity took over her, she had to know. She had to know more.

TUESDAY 7 NOVEMBER, 2023 I almost had a heart attack when I saw Minjeong with someone else. They were acting so friendly and I just felt my heart shrink. I’m not attractive compared to them. Maybe I should go to the gym. But that wouldn’t change my face, would it? Dear Diary, I really really like her.

“Wait, this is all about me?” Minjeong whispered to herself. She skimmed through the stupid entries and found even more pages about herself. She covered her mouth, blushing madly. “Oh my… I had no idea.” She couldn’t help but smile and continue flipping through the pages.

TUESDAY 14 NOVEMBER, 2023 Minjeong is back at it again. I’ve met her eyes a couple of times today and it was simply enchanting. The way her face lit up when our eyes connected mate my heart skipped a beat. She looks honest. Happy and amazing. I wish I could see her eyes every day, see every feeling in her pupils, knowing she wouldn’t be afraid to hide anything from me. Of course, I’d do the same. Minjeong is already a great friend, she’d be a great girlfriend as well. I thought about confessing for the first time. It was really a stupid thought. There is no way someone like her would accept me. I’m just a bum. I don’t even like myself, why would she? Eventually, someone will come and take her away, I just have to accept it. I love you, Minjeong.

WEDNESDAY 22 NOVEMBER, 2023 Am I a pervert for looking at Minjeong’s legs? My eyes were glued to her thighs. Maybe for a couple of minutes. Yeah, that’s definitely too much.

Minjeong glanced down at her shorts and bear legs and suddenly she felt too exposed. She regretted wearing such revealing clothes.

MONDAY 27 NOVEMBER, 2023 I want to love Minjeong properly. She’s such a perfect girl. I want her to feel loved. I’d cuddle and hug her a lot if she was my girlfriend. I daydreamed in class instead of listening to the literature lesson and this thought came to me: Minjeong backhugging me. That’s it. That’s the thought. It was enough to make me a blushing mess. Dear Diary, I have a problem.

Minjeong didn’t feel exposed anymore, she just felt warm and flustered. “You silly…” Minjeong said. She glanced around, making sure no one was watching, then hugged the diary close to her chest. “I never knew you felt this way…”

Fearing that you might be coming back, Minjeong thought that she had read enough and it was time to put it away. She just stood up and was about to put the diary back on the desk when a piece of paper fell out. It looked like it was sandwiched between the hardcover and the last page. She picked it up from the ground and read it.

BUCKET LIST Go on a date with Minjeong (skating?) Watch the starry sky Touch Minjeong’s cheeks Top marks Try skiing Confess Kiss MinHold Minjeong’s hand

Minjeong didn’t have the time to put it away when she heard your steps. She just stuffed the diary under the books and kept the paper in her pocket.

Minejong quickly recollected herself. She straightened out the few messy strands and the wrinkled clothes. She took a deep breath and shook off the agitation, anything could have been suspicious in your eyes. You weren’t dumb—although you weren’t exactly smart either—so Minjeong had to be extra careful. That said, she had to think of a way to put the little paper back in place because surely you would have noticed the next time you were going to write about how fantastic the latest wrestling match you watched was.

“Here you go,” you said, throwing Minjeong the box of pepero. “You had me looking everywhere for those… fortunately they were still good.”

Minjeong smiled, picking up the box from her lap, a natural grin on her small lips. “Thank you, you’re amazing.”

You had no words to reply but only another smile. You exhaled, letting your body drop lifeless on the bed, beside your friend. The episode was still at the 26:56 mark, and you were recollecting what happened previous to the still frame.

“Oh, by the way, I also got a bag of chocolates,” you said. You took the plastic bag you left on the corner of the folded covers. It was full of those little bite-sized chocolates you’d buy to decorate your tables in the living room when someone was coming over during the winter; or for a bunch of kids. But you got the smaller version, which also cost a couple of bucks more because it was of “fine quality”.

“No way!” she said, letting go of the pepero, forgotten like it never meant anything to her. You looked at the Oreo-looking box and blinked a few times. Why did it feel so relatable?

“You know I love chocolate!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I bought it,” you said.

When you pressed the space bar on your laptop and the episode restarted, the room fell into a comfortable silence. You could only hear the dialogues coming from the speakers and Minjeong cutely munching on her peperos. You were grinning widely, having more fun staring at the hamster beside you than the scenes on the screen themselves.

Minjeong on the other hand, wasn’t exactly happy. Sure, the joy from her discovery was still lingering in her mind but so was the shock. The crunchy sticks of chocolate and biscuit took the roles of her nails, on which she nervously munched without stop, box after box. She would steal glances at you from time to time, and seeing you smile so happily, laughing and passionately talking to her, made her feel things she had never felt before.

She wasn’t sure if it was indigestion or butterflies in her stomach, but the thing was, Minjeong couldn’t focus on the screen at all. Her mind was still processing the revelations from the secret diary, she tried to act nonchalant, and fortunately, you couldn’t see her well, but her cheeks were betraying a faint blush.

“The cat is so round, it looks like a bag of potatoes, don’t you think?” you laughed.

“Y-yeah,” she whispered. Winter cleared her throat, “So, what do you think will happen next in the drama?”

“What do you mean? They’re like—they’re gonna kiss. Look at the romantic tension. I bet it’s gonna be a cliffhanger.”

“Right, right…” Minjeong continued to stare at the screen. Didn’t the protagonists kinda look like you and her…? She swore they were very similar at that moment. Somehow she could see herself in the shoes of the girl, while you could have been the protagonist, with that manly shoulders and features—ehem—you had the same eyes. Yes, that’s exactly what Minjeong was thinking, or at least, that’s what she wanted to think.

The protagonists, Ji-hoon and Soo-mi, stood close, their eyes filled with emotions, concealed, to the point of overflowing. Just like her and you. Ji-hoon tenderly reached out, cupping Soo-mi's face in his hands. With a soft smile, he gently brushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead, his touch lingering. His fingers looked very gentle, you always have been gentle too, maybe if it was you doing, it would feel…

“Minjeong.”

“What?!” The girl squirmed lightly, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly self-aware. The romantic scene felt really closer than usual and her facade was slowly falling.

“I think it’s about to happen,” you said, still keeping your eyes attached to the screen. “They’re gonna kiss, I feel it.”

“Uh,” Minjeong started, terribly awkward. “These romantic scenes are always so... uh, intense, right?

“What do you…” you turned around and saw her heated cheeks. You looked at her and raised an eyebrow. The corner of her mouth twitched. “You're blushing, Minjeong. Are you sure you're okay?”

“Me? Blushing?” she fumbled. “No, I'm perfectly fine. It's just... you know, the drama.”

On the screen, the air crackled with tension as Ji-hoon kept cupping Soo-mi's face, his eyes searching hers for consent. Without words, their lips finally met in a tender yet passionate kiss. Time seemed to stand still as the world faded away, leaving only the sweet symphony of their hearts and the intoxicating warmth of the embrace.

Minjeong was watching everything but the kiss.

“You're not usually this flustered,” you observed. Minjeong’s behavior was really weird. You looked back at the screen and it all looked normal. They were in their slowed-down shot with the ballad in the background.

“Yeah, well, it's just a really good episode,” she said, avoiding eye contact at all costs. You tried to look at her by bending down and tilting your head but likewise, she turned around to avoid you. It looked strange but you just continued to watch the drama, accepting her answer.

As the episode concluded, Minjeong heaved a silent sigh of relief. She attempted to divert attention by reaching for more snacks, hoping to distract both herself and you from the lingering awkwardness.

You continue to the next episode.

You turned around and tried to get one of the snacks that were on her side. As you stretched, your hand brushed against Minjeong’s thigh. At the touch, she jolted with a loud gasp. It was like you sent a shock through her body.

“Oops, sorry about that,” you said apologetically, retrieving the box to your side.

“N-no problem at all,” she stammered.

You continued to watch without thinking much of it but Minjeong was completely on the edge. When you shifted and adjusted yourself, your leg would accidentally brush against hers. Or when you wanted to take the water bottle and you’d hug her shoulder by mistake. The blush on her cheeks continued to grow and she started to want to get out of there.

Your touches continued, all the ones that you were both accustomed to before, now sent a ripple of flustered nerves through Minjeong.

Eventually, the episodes ended and you came to the end of the drama. Minjeong’s nerves finally relaxed. You helped her gather her things and after chatting for a while, you bid her goodbye. You insisted on bringing her home, especially since it was quite late but she didn’t want to hear any of it and ran outside.

Minjeong slept well that night. She had all sorts of dreams and fantasies—was someone in the hallway, they’d think an actress was rehearsing for her future role. When she woke up, however, it was another story. Thanks to the newly found clarity of mind, the realization hit her harder than ever.

You liked her.

You! You.

You liked her.

Minjeong sighed and sat up on the bed.

She liked you.

Yes, she.

She liked you.

Now she had two options: either ignore it, act like nothing happened, which was both the easiest and hardest choice she could take; or deal with it. Minjeong didn’t like the idea of ignoring what she found. It would be like playing with your feelings. Really, you confessed indirectly, she has read all of your honest words, letter by letter, and now knew all of your feelings. You confessed to her.

But she also didn’t want to talk to you about it. Because, well, it was embarrassing.

What if you didn’t feel ready for a relationship? Maybe your journal was an outlet for your stress where you poured out all of your feelings knowing full well you couldn’t be with her.

Maybe it wasn’t a journal, maybe it was a fictional diary that you were writing. Like some sort of diary of a wimpy kid but for lovers.

Maybe you were writing about another girl. You knew that someone could have found your diary, just like Minjeong did, so you used another name. You could have been in some sort of Romeo and Juliet type of affair and the repercussions could have been deadly.

Minjeong was just making stuff up at this point. Let’s face it, you were just a normal person and what she read were real journal entries.

She sighed heavily. “Why?! Why did I…” she yelled. Minjeong closed her eyes and remembered your words—how sweet they were, how honest and meaningful—then shook her head. “It’s better this way.”

The piece of paper was still on the desk, crumbled and waiting. She got up and held it in her hand, skimming through your bucket list again.

BUCKET LIST Go on a date with Minjeong (skating?) Watch the starry sky Touch Minjeong’s cheeks Try skiing Top marks Confess Kiss MinHold Minjeong’s hand

She just ignored your last desire—the crossed-out line was still pretty readable but it was too embarrassing right now. You have helped her a lot until now, making most of the dreams from her bucket list come true. Yet, she has never had the chance to pay you back. Minjeong thought carefully and realized that this was the perfect occasion. She liked you so she would have liked it too and if you didn’t want to get into a relationship with her, at least she could fulfill a couple of your desires.

Minjeong clutched the paper with determinatione; it was her mission.

Objective 1: Secure the date

When Minjeong made up her mind and got up, two steps from the door of the room, she realized one thing: she had never been on a date. Such a pretty girl like Minjeong should have been asked out at least ten times by now. Especially since she wasn’t exactly shy or intimidating. And truly she had been asked out, but she never accepted. She’d say she had to focus on her studies, or that she wasn’t ready, or that it wasn’t the age for that kind of thing.

Minjeong turned while holding her chin, her eyebrow furrowed in deep thought. She had a location—the skating ring—that was a starter. But now, what do you do on a date? Minjeong tried to recall all the dramas she had watched: maybe she’d get some sort of idea. She has watched plenty of shows, surely there was something useful.

Characters would usually kiss each other ‘accidentally’ for example. Minjeong tried to imagine the scene: you and her walking in the frozen streets, her tripping and falling in your arms… some kids bumping into you, your lips brushing against her in a split second. Minejong started to blush terribly. “No, no, no, that’s not good,” she shook her head to get the thought out of her mind.

She was definitely overthinking this. You probably didn’t know any better than her and couples don’t really prepare that much before a date—it had to be natural. Minjeong decided to call you. There was a skating ring opened in the city during that period so that was the right occasion.

She gripped her phone, inhaled and exhaled. “Just hanging out,” she pointed out. “That’s right, don’t stress Minjeong, it’s just a hangout between friends.”

After Minjeong decided what to say and prepared all the possible dialogue options, which took about half an hour, she dialed your number and called. She couldn’t even calm her mind that you already picked up.

“Hello?” you asked.

“Hey,” Minjeong answered.

“Oh, Minjeong, how are you? Why are you calling me?”

“Well, I’ve got an idea for you.”

“Shoot.”

Minjeong swallowed her saliva. “How about we go skating at the ice rink? They opened it in the city center, I think it would be fun.”

“Skating, huh? Uhm… well, I’ve been thinking about it,” you said, you’ve been really thinking about it. It was such a weird coincidence that Minjeong asked you about it. However, “I haven’t done that in ages. Are you sure I won’t end up flat on my back?” You didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself in front of your crush.

Minjeong laughed jokingly. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back… or, well, I’ve got your back if you do fall. But trust me, you’ll learn pretty quick.”

“Sounds tempting, but I’m not really convinced.”

“Come on, we’ll have fun. They also sell hot chocolate and crepes. I’ll buy it for you if you come!”

“Free food? Okay, you’ve convinced me. When do you wanna see each other?”

“How about Saturday? We should both be free.”

“Sounds good. Alright, thanks, see ya.”

“Goodbye.”

As soon as she hung up, Minjeong started jumping around like a maniac. She felt like she was a kid again, so excited and happy. She just forgot to tell you at what time to come. Whatever. She could have texted the time later. Plans were just going as planned.

The plans did not go as planned.

Objective 2: Find a replacement

Minjeong spent her whole morning preparing for the date. She looked at all the possible cafés and restaurants and food places you two could go to in case you got hungry. Then she looked at all the possible outfits she had in her wardrobe. She called her friend, Karina to help her decide the clothes. They ended up giggling and talking for about 5 hours about Minjeong’s story with you and Karina’s love interest.

In the end, they decided to go for the simplest sweater and pants they could find. It was to “not hide Minjeong’s natural beauty” as Karina put it. Whatever that meant.

You met right at the entrance of the city. You were already waiting there.

You found it hard to recognize Minjeong. She was bundled up in a big cozy scarf, a huge hat, and big gloves. The jacket was also quite thick, making her look like a snowman. You knew Karina didn’t let her go out of the house before dressing her up properly. You smiled, she looked very cute.

The both of you made your way to the ice ring talking about uni, friends, work, and so on. Being with Minjeong was always a pleasure as you could confide in each other about whatever problem or worry you had.

Hand in hand, you scrolled through the city, the subtle crunch of snow beneath your feet providing a serene soundtrack. There were a lot of people on the street. You came early but the sky was already starting to darken.

When you reached the ice rink, you gulped. Minjeong instead, was extremely excited. You paid for the skate shoes, slipped them in, and stepped on the ice.

The ice beneath your skates glistened brightly, it felt like ice, ready to crack, ready to swallow you in case you fell and gave in to the demons of the cold. Minjeong was still excited. She was already laughing while looking at the small kids tumble down the ice like bowling pins.

Wrapped in the warmth of your scarf and being alongside Minjeong, provided you enough confidence and comfort to aid your attempt. You stepped slowly, your legs shaking. Your friend held your hand and guided you through the edge of the ring until you found the right rhythm to continue on your own.

Your confidence grew, maybe too much, and you tried to make a tight turn and slipped. Your heart skipped a beat and your life flashed before your eyes. Fortunately Minjeong, with lighting reflexes, reached out and grabbed you.

“Oh my god, thank you Minjeong, you saved my life.”

“Be more careful!” she laughed.

After the incident, you started to be more careful and continued skating.

At one point, tiny snowflakes began to fall down the sky, soft and gentle. Both you and Minjeong started smiling brightly, thinking it looked like a scene from a romance movie. It really looked like what you’ve always dreamt of, skating with Minjeong under the snow.

The snowfall intensified, turning the ice rink into a snowy spectacle. It added a layer of magic to their already enchanting evening, and you continued to skate with carefree joy, leaving behind a trail of swirling snowflakes. However, as the snowfall grew heavier, the twinkling lights began to fade, and a voice over the speakers announced the temporary closure of the rink for safety reasons.

Minjeong panicked. She couldn’t end the date this way.

“Isn’t that a shame?” you said, walking away from the ice ring. “Well, I still had fun nonetheless, thank you for today, Minjeong.”

“Wait, wait,” she interrupted you. “Uhm, it’s still pretty early, wanna go back to my place?”

“Heh? Well, why not? Wanna order out?”

“Yeah, that’s fine by me.”

“Then let’s go.” Good job, Minjeong.

Objective 3: Look at the sky

You entered the pitch-black living room and turned on the lights. The room was well-lighted but still felt small and comfy, it probably was the darkness from outside the window. You glanced at Minjeong as she folded a blanket and tossed it over the back of the sofa. The air held a chill, a reminder that winter had firmly settled outside the confines of your makeshift refuge.

She nonchalantly dropped a stack of DVDs onto the coffee table, the worn covers hinting at countless movie nights spent in this room. Minjeong leaned over the desk, planting her hands on the edge. Minjeong's gaze shifted to you, What do you feel like watching?"

I shrugged, my gaze scanning the room as if the answer lay hidden in the faded wallpaper. "Anything. Surprise me." She picked a random DVD, its label scratched and worn. She put the disc into the blueray reader and grabbed the remote. The sofa creaked as Minjeong plopped down, patting the cushion next to her. "Grab a blanket. It's gonna get colder."

You complied, dragging a fuzzy throw from the back of a nearby chair. You two draped yourselves in layers of warmth, settling into the groove of the well-worn sofa cushions. The silence enveloped you, a familiar companion that required no words.

Halfway through the movie, however, Minjeong looked at the sky: it stopped snowing. It was like the snow had purged all the previous filth between the clouds and smog and left it a pure black, only decorated by the glowing stars. Minjeong kept slapping at your leg and pointing at the sky until you turned around and the view stunned you.

Objective 4: Hold that hand

“Wow…” your friend whispered.

“Yep,” you said back. The two of you continued to watch the sky, while Kung Fu Panda 2 was becoming noise in the background and your conversation shifted to the sight. You raised an arm, pointing at the bright dots.

“You know, the color of a star indicates its temperature,” you said. “Hotter stars appear blue or white, while cooler ones look red.”

“How is it red if it’s colder?” Minjeong said, puzzled.

“It’s about the waves of light emitted. To put it simply, cooler stars emit less blue light so they look red.”

Minjeong smiled, “That's interesting, but you know, in astrology, stars, and their positions also play a significant role. I'm a Capricorn, ruled by Saturn, and it says a lot about my personality.”

As soon as you heard the word ‘astrology’ you sighed heavily and rolled your eyes, sliding down the sofa. Minjeong has already filled your head with that stuff to the brim. Whenever she had time or whenever she bought a magazine from the news kiosk, she’d start reading the entire thing of the signs, you don’t even remember what it was called.

“Astrology, Minjeong? Seriously?”

Your friend furrowed her eyebrows from annoyance and spoke defensively, “What? It's fascinating! Capricorns are disciplined, ambitious, and practical. I mean, doesn't that sound like me?”

“Disciplined? Sure. But practical?” you laughed. “You're the one who believes in star signs.”

“Well, you're just a typical Capricorn skeptic. But I bet you secretly find it intriguing.”

You chuckled and shook your head. You two laughed it off and the silence resumed. After a brief moment, where your breaths signed the passing of time, you noticed Minjeong’s glow in the dark. Your heart fluttered as you watched her profile against the moonlight. Sometimes you forget your true feelings for your friend, but they always come back.

You sighed while turning back to the sky. “It's such a beautiful night, isn't it?” you whispered, masking the true meaning of your words because you weren’t really talking about the night. Both of you talked in codes, not on purpose but none of you could be honest. You were too scared of her possible answer and Minjeong was too scared to lose you.

“Yeah, it is,” she said softly. As you continued stargazing in comfortable silence, her mind swirled with a mixture of emotions. The recent revelations from your secret diary still lingered in her thoughts, and her unspoken feelings were twisting and turning inside her.

Her hand slowly crept up near you, a subconscious action maybe, a planned incident perhaps; but it was the perfect occasion. You felt her touch and didn’t think twice to hold her hand. The initial contact, when your fingers intertwine, sends a wave of warmth through you. The touch is surprisingly intimate, it felt like a bridge between Minjeong and you. In a way, her feelings were coursing through you.

Objective 5: Spill it out

“Today was perfect,” you say. Minjeong silently watches you with a soft smile. “You know, I’ve always been dreaming of this moment. To watch the stars with you…” your air suddenly blocked in your throat, “Well, I—” “I already know.”

“What?”

“I already knew it. That you wanted to watch the stars—and that you wanted to go skating… with me.”

You opened your mouth to ask her how but Minjeong was faster and pulled out the crumbled piece of paper, the title ‘BUCKET LIST’ was still visible. You panicked, your eyes flicking between her stupidly satisfied smile and your embarrassing, horribly written list of desires.

You gulped and started talking, stuttering, mumbling every word, “S-so did you see the di-diary?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my god… I wanna die.”

“No, wait—”

“Forget everything Minjeong, no, well, you obviously can’t,” you blurted out, you didn’t know what to say anymore. “I’m sorry you had to read that. It was gross. I’m going to move out of the country, buy tickets, pack things, you’ll forget about me and I’ll start my new life—”

“I like you too!”

“What did you just say?” you stopped and looked at her with wide eyes.

Minjeong's admission hung in the air, and for a moment, the only sound between you two was the soft rustling of the crumpled bucket list paper in her hands. Your eyes widened, locked onto hers, searching for any sign of jest or misdirection, but all you found was true sincerity. Her pupils stared at you, eagerly waiting for your answer.

"You... you like me too?" you stammered, hesitant and scared that you might have heard the wrong words.

Minjeong nodded, a gentle smile playing on her lips. "Yes. I like you. I read your list, and it wasn't gross. It was... endearing. Honestly, it made my heart race a little."

A nervous laugh escaped your lips, a mixture of relief and newfound anxiety. "I thought I'd scared you away with that stuff."

Minjeong chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Not at all. It made me realize we share the same dreams, the same desires. I've been wanting to do those things too, you know?"

The weight of uncertainty lifted, replaced by a warmth that settled deep within. You felt a connection, a shared vulnerability that made the revelation less daunting. "So... what does this mean?" you asked, your voice soft.

She leaned in, her gaze unwavering. "It means we don't have to dream about those things anymore. We can make them happen together."

A grin broke across your face, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness. "Yeah, together."

Minjeong's hand found yours, and this time, it wasn't just for a casual touch but a deliberate, reassuring connection. The stars above seemed to twinkle in approval as you both sat there, hand in hand, in the quiet realization that your shared dreams weren't just fantasies on a crumpled piece of paper anymore—they were possibilities waiting to unfold.

“There’s still a last wish on that list I can fulfill…” Minjeong whispered. She took a deep breath and went for it.

She kissed you.

Minjeong's eyes, soft and inviting, met yours, and at that moment, the world outside faded into insignificance.

"I've been wanting to do this," Minjeong whispered, her voice a delicate murmur that hung in the space between you. Her fingers grazed the side of your face, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver down your spine. The proximity between you became charged, the magnetic pull undeniable.

You didn't need words. The unspoken agreement lingered in the air, and with a gentle tilt of her head, Minjeong closed the distance. The first brush of her lips against yours felt like the tentative caress of a butterfly's wings, a delicate exploration that spoke volumes. It was a moment of hesitancy and boldness, a dance between vulnerability and longing.

You didn’t say anything else, the look in your and her eyes understood each other perfectly and you kissed again. The first one was a quick peck, a mix of fear and sudden braveness. The second one was the overflow of your feelings, a long and deep kiss, a slow fusion of warmth and connection.

The world outside might have continued its relentless pace, but within the embrace of that kiss, time became elastic, bending to the rhythm of your shared heartbeat. It was a stolen moment, a stolen kiss, and yet, it felt like something long overdue, as if the universe itself had conspired to bring your lips together in this tender collision.

When the kiss finally broke, your lips naturally curled into a large smile while she hid under the blanket from the embarrassment. Minjeong emerged only a moment later, red and flustered. “Uhm, I wasn’t too bad, right? That was my first kiss…”

“It was my first too, and no, it wasn’t bad. It was amazing,” you said honestly. “I just like how I dreamed.”

Minjeong and you laughed together. This was just the start of the many more desires you two would fulfil together.

Mission completed

THE END

Written, 03 December 2023 - 14 December 2023

#aespa #aespa winter #winter #kim minjeong #kpop fluff #kpop #aespa fluff #winter fluff

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cloveryfields · 30 days ago

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The seemingly most emo thing I feel I could be doing during all this chaos is starting another blog by the same name. However, a lot needs to be said and Twitter/X is just not a good platform for long, honest posts about how I fucked up.

Indeed, it truly isn’t my fault that there are people in this world who would rather believe their own misinformation and cleave to it as gospel, than admit they were wrong. It’s clearly delusions of grandeur going on in all this, particularly by one X user who goes by “legoldenflakestrudel,” who, rather than believe every ounce of proof I’ve struggled to procure for her, chooses to call me everything from AI to “barely literate” (in spite of my writing which she also keeps complimenting because she refuses to believe it was written by me).

According to her, I couldn’t be the same person because I don’t tweet the way I write, especially in 150 characters, and because I don’t look like the fictional character I was writing about. Of course I don’t. She was a figment of my imagination. I created her. And most authors don’t write characters who are cookie cutter carbon copies of themselves, unless it’s autobiographical.

Clover was fiction. Not autobiography. I don’t understand why this is so hard to accept, save for the fact that this particular user seems determined to condemn an innocent man who has brought nothing but joy and inspiration to so many. Even noted artist Sunny D. Anomaly (formerly Ocularfracture) cites him as the reason she became a comic book artist.

For those reading this and not in the know, I will explain this from the beginning. Oddly, it all started 12 years ago, and little did I know what sort of a mess it would cause. God, this sounds like the beginning of some cheesy paperback novel. I swear to you, it’s all true, or my name isn’t Clementine Yorke. Yeah. That’s my real name. Did you honestly think someone named Clover E. Fields was a real person?

But back to it, for the truly confused.

Twelve years ago, all the way back in 2012, I was a lonely college dropout but I still wanted to pursue a career in literature. Things in my life weren’t the best, and I wanted an escape from myself. I wanted to feel like I was in college again, I wanted the drama, the gossip, the sex… the… the friends… :\

So I invented a character. Several characters down the line, even, but Cloveryfields was the first one I made, and whose skin I really crawled into to flesh her out as a person.

It started with just a paper journal; a little spiral tie-dye thing with purple pages marked with peace signs. But I kept leaving it at home which is when inspiration always struck, so I decided to create a live journal account that I could access from anywhere.

I admit, I got way more into this character than was probably necessary, creating various other social media for her, and spending long hours writing blog entries, even backdating some of them so I could write about things that happened in her past. For a while, she was all that kept me going. Whenever I’d had a rotten day, I’d come home and go straight to my laptop without even eating, and just write about what Clover’s day was like.

I would vanish into her and write about *her* troubles, which were far more interesting than my own meaningless ones. Sometimes it felt like the words were just flowing through me, like she was part of me now and I didn’t even have to think, I just let the words come… and at the end, I’d proof read it and think, “I wrote this?”

After a while, that began to frighten me. I was even making art for deviant art saying it was hers. I was posting on Facebook, even getting a friend to help me look more real. Slowly, I began to feel like I was living two lives and possibly even making Clover real enough in my head that I could easily form a split personality and not even know it.

So, for a long time, I took a break. I posted one last thing about moving away and then left it to rot for a bit. When I started writing her novel, I made sure to do it in the third person so that I wouldn’t attach my psyche to it. Once I felt I had detached myself enough from it, I visited the blog a few more times to tie a nice little bow on the story, and that was the last time I posted.

I never deleted it, as the novel still sits unfinished, but since I’ve neglected it for so long, I’ve been locked out of the account and the email I created for it was terminated due to inactivity.

Now, if you aren’t in the know and reading this out of curiosity, you’re probably wondering what’s so awful about this whole thing, other than getting dangerously caught up in it. Well… I made several errors. Things I hadn’t even thought of until all this drama started a few days ago.

One was, to appear like a person who used a blog, I added some people as friends. One such person was noted artist, Jhonen Vasquez. It was innocent, adding him. I added multiple artists I admired. Unfortunately two of them have gotten swept up in all this because of me. Mainly Jhonen, but also the aforementioned ocularfracture who, until this evening, wished to remain anonymous. She feels she might be able to help though, since she somehow got linked to it all, and I hope to god she can.

Continuing on, though… because my character had an unstable relationship with someone named Jho (a Malaysian name of a kid I’d known in school who had anger management problems)… for some reason, this guy came to mind when I was picturing instability, so I just used the name.

I honestly didn’t even make the connection that Jho and Jhonen are even spelled with the same J-H-O. It never occurred to me at all. But here we are, twelve long years in the future, and here’s a bunch of people causing all sorts of drama about the blog, claiming Clover was a real person who was in a relationship with Jhonen Vasquez and abused by him. There’s apparently even some imposter claiming to BE Clover, which infuriates me endlessly.

It’s apparently not bad enough that a work of fiction was mistaken for autobiography, or that these truly depraved individuals somehow assumed based on nothing, that it was written about Jhonen. No, they have to make it all worse by being a flimsy sock puppet of my own intellectual property, just to insert themselves into the drama and condemn a man who has done nothing wrong.

I have been busting ass trying to get back into any of those old accounts so I can prove that I am who I say I am and clear his name…

But it’s really thrown me into a depression spiral. I feel like a tremendous asshole for ever writing anything that could be misconstrued, even if unintentional. I feel like I’m the reason… because I AM the reason that this wonderful artist has been made to suffer so much. And that truly hurts to know.

I never met Jhonen. Always wanted to, but never got the chance. Now I never will, for sure. If he even knows I exist by now, he must despise and detest me as the source of all this unnecessary suffering he’s been put through. It’s like… “way to go, Clem! Way to fuck up the life of someone you loved and respected.”

It will haunt me for the rest of my life, however long that might be at this point… because the more I think about this and how stupid it was and how easily it could’ve been avoided, plus putting myself in his shoes and imagining how damaging this must all be for him… I feel like a life for a life. I ruined his, so I owe him my own. Old fashioned rules that somehow make sense as I sit here freeing to death and waiting, hoping, praying that I got all my made-up credentials right, so that I can log back in and end this nonsense.

That’s the problem with getting too deep into a character. You make fake names, birthdates, security questions that don’t even apply to you… and you have to actually remember them or it’s game over.

And if I can’t sort this out, it’s game over. And even if I do, I still doubt if I can live with myself after knowing what I inadvertently put another human being through.

We’ll see what happens. Until next time,

Cloveryfields, aka Clem Yorke

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c-schroed · 2 years ago

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Podcasts I Adore - Re: Dracula or This Year, Our Friend Jonathan Has a Podcast!

"I had for dinner, or rather supper, a chicken done up some way with red pepper, which was very good but thirsty. (Memorandum: Get recipe for Mina.)"

I wanted to join "Dracula Daily" ever since I heard of it. To me, this is a stroke of genius; it's just the perfect approach to this book. I mean, not only is Bram Stoker's horror classic an epistolary novel with precise dates given for every journal entry or letter written by one of its protagonists, it also spans quite an ideal amount of time, i.e. roughly half a year. Long enogh to give it a feeling of something interesting and important slowly unraveling, short enough to not feel like too much of a commitment.

So yeah, I really wanted to join "Dracula Daily". Especially because I wanted to read the novel in English for years already (so far I've only read its German translation, because that's my native language). But, alas, I do not find the time so easily to add a book to my to do list, so I ended up not joining this lovely book club last year, fearing I'd miss out on most of the entries sooner or later.

Enter "Regarding Dracula". Right after seeing it for the very first time I knew this will be perfect for me. I already have a habit of listening to audio drama on my daily commute, and preferably in the form of fictional podcasts. So quite literally, @re-dracula had me at hello.

And gosh, they did not disappoint. Although I have to admit that I was a bit disappointed to find out that the format is more that of a classical audio drama, with voice actors speaking every line of their respective character. Originally, I was hoping for a more podcast-like approach, meaning that each actor speaks all of the text of a journal entry or letter, period. As if Jonathan would make a podcast instead of notes in his journal. I simply like it when audio fiction uses the possibilities of podcasts, and "Dracula" felt like something that could profit from this way of storytelling, too. So yes, I admit it: I was a bit disappointed. But not for long.

After hearing just a few sentences of Karim Kronfli as Dracula, I immediately understood the decision to breathe life into each character this way. I mean, I love Ben Galpin's work as Jonathan, but Dracula really, really profits from Kronfli's nonchalant but still breathtakingly powerful and confident take on this charakter.

And Mr. Kromfli is not the only one who makes a redefiningly marvellous job here. So far, all the voice actors go far out of their way to make me fall in love with each and every one of them: Ben Galpin's Jonathan is heartbreakingly relatable, Isabel Adomakoh Young's Mina is capable and charming beyond measure, and Beth Eyre's Lucy is just gorgeous. Yes. I'm in love.

In addition to all that talent of its cast, "Re: Dracula" also has a neat and absolutely on point score and sound design. And, just like the basic idea of "Dracula Daily", it really gives you a feeling of how time passes between the journal entries and letters. Haven't heard anything of Jonathen for a while? One does start to worry a bit. Lucy answering to Mina just two days after the Mina's letter? Wow, that was quick, I guess (not sure how quickly the postal service worked back then, though). Even if one has read "Dracula" again and again, I am sure this form of presentation can grant new insights!

So, if you, like me, are a more eager listener than reader, or if you happen to like close-to-perfection audio drama, then please give this a shot! I bet you, like me, will soon be finding yourself eagerly, yearningly awaiting the next bit of news from your good friend Jonathan, who hopefully soon returns from that terrible business trip of his. 9 out of 10 points.

#re: dracula #dracula daily #dracula daily deluxe #audio fiction #podcast #podcast review #audiobook #horror #classic #dracula #bram stoker #karim kronfli #isabel adomakoh young #beth eyre #i'm hooked #i'm so very darn hooked #schroed's thoughts

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pocarinapyon · 2 years ago

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[Mild] Naughty Journal Sumeru Edition

Imagine having a journal dedicated for jotting down all [lewd] fantasies about that certain hot guy. But then one thing led to another and now mister certain hot guy learns of your indecent thoughts towards him. What happens next?

Contents include [Journal Entry Highlights] and [How they find out about your secret and their reaction].

Starring : Alhaitham, Cyno, Kaveh, Tighnari, Wanderer (Separate)

Tags / Warnings : 🌶 [Mild Chili] Suggestive themes; Stalking; Masturbating; Stray cuss words; (Me) fangirling over Alhaitham; A hint of drama / feeling insecure if you squint; Implication of human trafficking; Mentions of being affected by posion mushroom (please, do not carelessly approach, eat, or touch mushrooms unless confirmed they are safe); (Over exposure to) Aphrodisiac; Tighnari's scene 😳; etc.

I have no beta reader so...yes. Sorry if there are grammatical / spelling errors.

Also, most scenes are on or before version 3.3 because I have been slacking on my Archon Quest.

Future Plan : Chilis Naughty Journal Sumeru Edition; But first, I will finish the ones listed in Teasers Maltesers (Jan 13)

Links : Pinned Post, [Mild] Naughty Journal ft. Albedo, Childe, Diluc, Kaeya (Separate), [Chilis] Naughty Journal ft. Albedo, Childe, Diluc, Kaeya (Separate), [Mild + Chili] Naughty Journal Scaramouche Request, Teasers Maltesers (Jan 13)

Note : [W/N] means Wanderer's Name.

Target audience is female (bodied) reader.

To whoever is reading, please enjoy and look forward to [NSFW Ending] in the far future.

——————————————————

📚 ALHAITHAM

Journal Entry Highlights :

> In all honesty, the only reason why I am working hard as a scholar is not for the prestige or the Akademiya. 🙄

> Who cares if I graduated from the Akademiya?

> Now, I just want a good reason to interact with the scribe.

> Will I ever catch the full, undivided attention of our virile scribe? 🥺

> Archons look at those rock hard muscles 🤤🥩

> And down there, I bet he has a big juicy package. 🤤🌭

> HOW CAN YOU CALL THAT A SCHOLAR??!

> I've never taken a penis before but I sure as hell would not mind if Alhaitham breaks my mouth or pussy. 🥺🥵

> *based on observations and approximations, insert Alhaitham's length and girth when flaccid and when erected complete with an "as close as possible" drawing of his penis*

> *insert detailed fantasies of you and Alhaitham doing the deed and recording it using the Akasha... For future reference 👀*

> *insert calculations of how long Alhaitham would last in bed*

> *insert details of how you masturbate to Alhaitham*

> *insert fantasies of how Alhaitham masturbates and where his preferred spots are*

> Fuck, I want Alhaitham to breed me so bad! 🥵

> *insert something like Punnett Square here*

> *insert description of your offsprings based on calculation and data*

> I need to become a better scholar so I can be a worthy breeding material. ❤️

How they find out about your secret and their reaction :

“Excuse me,” you modestly asked the group of students perched on a bench outside the Akademiya. "Have you seen a [favourite colour] journal with a dendro symbol engraved on its cover?"

"No. Did you lose your journal?" eyeing you from head to toe, one of the students asked curtly.

"Why would a researcher lose their journal? Only an unsystematic person who's incapable of passing the Akademiya would do that," another responded.

"I believe the correct question is: why would a researcher not use the Akasha? Don't tell me you don't know how to utilize it?" the last of the group mocked.

To this, the students laughed.

Of course. As expected from the people of the Akademiya. Most of them were a bunch of entitled pricks and this group - luckily - was one of them. Why did you even bother asking nicely?

Regardless if they were kind or not, you still had to act friendly. Why? Because it was an emergency. Your notebook full of Alhaitham smut was missing. Five days already passed and still the naughty journal was yet to be seen. You figured no one would take interest in a non-academic-looking journal but it seems you were wrong...hopefully. Archons, all you wanted was to have your notebook in your arms.

A defeated sigh escaped your lips. You were desperate to look for it and inquiring with people was your last resort. You never really had your hopes up but you figured it was worth a shot. Apparently, retracing your steps bore no fruit. Now, it didn't matter if a commoner or even the General Mahamatra found the item. As long as Alhaitham himself doesn't know, you were contented. Why?

Because he was a bookworm. The last time you were sure you were in possession of your debauchery-filled notebook was when you saw the scrivener and sneaked behind him to ogle at his build. When you arrived at your room to add a lewd entry, lo and behold the journal was gone. Imagine what if the scribe found it?

Agh! Whatever! Maybe the young man was right. Maybe you were unsystematic. Maybe your writing, like majority of your academic paper, was already in the trash. It made sense because you weren't from a family of scholars, anyway.

Exhausted, you shook your head, chose to tune out the discourteous remarks thrown at you and flee the scene.

"It seems you three are not in the know," a manly voice said.

That voice! You'd recognize that even if you were blindfolded! Of course you'd love to hear his voice anytime but you'd prefer it in a more expressive manner.

For example, hearing him grunt as he fucks you deep.

"The reason why Miss [your name] decided to instead utilize a hand-written journal is because of the sensitive data in her research. Its details are not yet in the Akasha and it is strictly not intended for audiences such as yourselves," Alhaitham reasoned. "Miss, did your assistant misplace your notes?"

OMG! OMG! Alhaitham - THE Alhaitham - was talking to you!

"Yes. It is as you said," you choked out, riding along his speculation.

Alhaitham was wrong about you having an assistant but he was right about the data being sensitive.

Anyway, the point was!

The point was! Alhaitham, your sexy academic stud, interacted with you! And he defended you against these pups!

However, proud people, when their exaggerated self-esteem is trampled upon, would retaliate.

"Not for audiences such as ourselves? Are you calling us less-learned?? You are just a scribe!" one of the students grouched.

"Dear, did you know that being a scribe requires a high level of education?" you calmly retorted, crossing your arms as elegantly as possible.

Keep cool! Keep cool! The toothsome scrivener was watching!

"What do you mean? A scribe only serves as a public secretary, nothing more!"

"A scribe, my dear, is a LEARNED person who indeed serves as a copyist, among other roles. Tell us then, how do you think can a scribe produce academically correct and non-ambiguous reports if he does not understand the data given to him?" you raised an eyebrow as you questioned the dumbfounded students. How dare they talk smack against your stud??

You could see it in their eyes. They wanted to argue back but they learned, based from the word definition in the Akasha, that you were right. They still had an insignificant probability to win the debate but you didn't want them to actually come up with a retort. Showing no mercy against pip-squeaks like these, your favourite trump card was-

"It seems you lack the vocabulary - something a student such as yourselves should expand. You are all from [Darshan], correct? Perhaps I should suggest to add linguistics courses to you all so you may enrich your knowledge."

Additional subjects to extend the academic years recommended by an alumnus. Who would want that, right?

"Ahem! N - no need," a student quickly replied.

The three students hurriedly gathered their belongings and scrambled to their feet.

"We didn't find any [favourite colour] notebook. Try somewhere else," they said before dashing away with their tails between their legs.

Alhaitham let out an amused chuckle. Knowing the scribe rarely showed any emotions, you wanted to see what kind of expression was he making. However, you were too embarrassed to look at your saviour.

"Ahem...," you noised. "Thank you."

With this, you finally had the courage to face Alhaitham. As usual, he had a serious look on his face - similar to a person who had not had coffee in the morning. In response to your gratitude, he simply nodded.

"You ought to be careful," the scribe spoke.

"Yes, you're right. Thank you," you responded rather too quickly as Alhaitham's next move drained the colors on your face.

It was as you feared. Alhaitham had your naughty journal - your oh-so-sinful diary. All you could do was freeze and stare at the object as he nonchalantly handed it to you. In your mind, you calculated the probability of the scribe reading your notes.

After a few seconds of what seemed to you like years, Alhaitham noised to catch your attention, his hands still in the air to return your item. You stuttered and shakily took the notebook from the man.

"T - Thank you...," you squeaked quietly, now red as a henna berry.

Around ninety-nine percent. That was how likely he read your notes.

"It would be troublesome if someone else found your journal. Luckily for you, it was an eremite. He did not understand its contents and nearly decided to hand it over to the nearest scholar around. But when he flipped the pages and saw a drawing of me, he deemed I was its best recipient."

So, the eremite did not see your lewd drawings? Or did he not understand you drew some penises?

"I applaud how detailed your entries are. Your thorough descriptions assists in picturing the narrated erotic scenes. Even the way how you and I masturbated were vividly represented."

"You've read it?!" you gasped in surprise.

You shrank. Obviously he read it. If he didn't, he would not know you wrote something about masturbating, right? You should have known a percent probability meant a trivial chance.

"Th - Then earlier, with those students...?"

"What I said was true, wasn't it? The information contained in that journal are all sensitive. I believe I also mentioned they are not suitable audiences to read these notes," Alhaitham responded plainly, as if the situation was not embarrassing at all. Well, for him it wasn't.

"W - wha...! B - But, when you said it is not in the Akasha terminal...?!" you stuttered again, spouting nonsense as your thoughts were occupied in recalling all the lewd entries you had written in your notebook.

"Another fact," Alhaitham simply replied before issuing a warning. "Although an Akasha terminal can be used to record events, I would advise against it."

He then proceeded to discuss why it was not ideal to utilize the Akasha in recording, especially pornographic scenes. Of course, you weren't a kid and you knew the dos and don'ts, yet the scribe reprimanded you as if you actually did a don't.

"I understand, thank you. It was just a fantasy, though," was all you could utter after the brief lecture, to which Alhaitham hummed in response.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he added.

The scribe pinned you against the wall while gazing into your eyes, making you squeal and feel your legs turn jelly. His intent stare was as if he was deciphering your very core. You squeezed your thighs and waited for his next words.

"You should correct your data. Compared to what you have declared, my penis is bigger, and my stamina and erection can last longer."

What??

You were stunned at Alhaitham's bold declaration, gawking as vulgar scenes flashed into your mind. Your pussy cried love juice and excitedly clenched at nothing. So he was bigger? If you two did the deed, would he fit?? And if he did, how long would he pound your poor untrained pussy???

Why would he reveal such things in the first place?!

As if pinning you wasn't enough for a tease, the scribe blessed you with a seductive smirk before whispering in your ear.

"I can provide you actual data if you wish."

----------

🐺 CYNO

Journal Entry Highlights :

> The General Mahamatra always look so serious

> I mean, his job must be so stressful, right? 😳

> He must have a lot of pent-up desires, right? 😳😳

> *insert fantasy wherein you suggest giving Cyno head to ease his tension*

> *insert fantasy wherein Cyno lets out his sexual frustrations on you*

> RAWR I BET HE'S GOING TO BE ROUGH 🥵😏

> *insert fantasy wherein Cyno fucks you all evening*

> "Heh... You're finally awake. I've already dumped a couple of loads into you. Your pussy is literally oozing out my cum."

> If Cyno would punish me, I hope it would be sexual torture 🥵😏

> *insert roleplay fantasy here wherein you are hunted down by Cyno and he uses you as a cum dump instead*

> Feel free to use my body, sir 🥵

> But in all seriousness, I hope he gets to relax, even for just a few minutes 🥺

> *insert sweet fluffy scenes with Cyno here*

> *insert cute domestic scenes here*

> Speaking of which, I heard him telling a joke once. I shouldn't pry but... I don't know if I'll laugh at the joke itself, or his delivery, or his poker face, or his long explanation! 🤣

> His joke went like : *insert Cyno's joke here*

> *insert more of Cyno's jokes here*

> *insert your own personal comeback or supplement to his jokes*

> If we are going to have babies, I bet Cyno would pass down all his jokes as inheritance

> Cute desert babies!! 😍❤️

How they find out about your secret and their reaction :

You excitedly packed your belongings, smiling happily at the thought of traveling with expenses already paid.

"You've always wanted to go there, right? Well, you're in luck as I have to conduct research in the area. Why don't you join me? I'll cover your lodging."

It was a too-good-to-be-true opportunity - too appealing that you did not let it pass even when you had some doubts. Anyway, surely your friend would not scam you when they said you could tag along in their journey free of charge. You had your own money so even if they did make you contribute Mora, you were prepared.

As a scholar of Amurta, you wanted to learn more about life behind The Wall of Samiel. In this trip, maybe you could practice adapting in the desert. Maybe you could learn more about the desert people's culture and preferences. You know, just in case you and Cyno decided to have kids and settle down in the desert.

Which was impossible, currently. Because number one: Cyno was a dedicated General Mahamatra. And number two: Cyno had no clue you and him were dating.

"Hi, thanks for letting me join you in your research!" you immediately greeted your friend with gratitude.

"No problem! We have to hurry, though. We don't want to be late on our accommodations," your friend brushed off, focusing on their map and beckoning you to pick up the pace.

You got to your meeting place thirty minutes early yet your friend made it seem you were late. Whatever, you couldn't complain. You were benefitting from this expedition anyway. Instead of grumbling, you acted like a sensible adult, did as instructed, and darted to where your friend ran off to.

"Uhm... Is this the right way to Caravan Ribat?" you confirmed, huffing as you tried to speak while jogging.

"No. We won't be passing through Caravan Ribat," your friend responded, making you think for a second.

Why wouldn't you go through Caravan Ribat? Was there another route you could use to travel to the desert? Where exactly were you two going to stay anyway? Before you could voice your doubts, your companion moved on to talk about their research.

You and your friend discussed academics without forgetting to hurry your pace. It was a long travel, almost as if you were trying to make a stray cat lost, but the conversation you had made the trip enjoyable. Soon enough, you indeed both reached the desert.

You marveled at its wonderful sight, a scenery totally different from the rainforests and greeneries you were used to. You saw henna berries and wondered if you could make a dish Cyno would like. You also saw scarabs and thought how hard-working they seemed - pretty much like the General Mahamatra. Another creature that reminded you of the man was the desert fox, because you find them both cute.

Marching forward, you saw wooden structures on the distance. Was that the place you were headed? You did not expect it to be livable, though. Far from it, in fact. In a place like that, what would you do if a sandstorm occurred? Where would you get water for drinking? What about for hygiene? How-

"Well, well. Look who we have here," a rough voice greeted you both. "Purchasing one wasn't enough for you, eh?"

Three eremites popped out from hiding and surrounded you, all of them wearing a grin that spelled trouble.

"I have the goods," your friend declared.

"W - what's going on...? You brought them goods? What goods?" you nervously asked as your flight senses screamed at you.

"Sorry, [your name]," was all your friend said to you while grabbing your arm. "I have the girl. Now, where are my canned knowledge?"

"What?! Let me go, now!!" you yelped, kicked, and resisted. With a successful punch, you managed to free yourself from the traitor's grasp before falling prey to one of the eremite's strong hold. "Nooo! Let! Me!! Go!!!"

"Haha! She looks feisty. I like it!" an eremite said, eyeing you from head to toe. He licked his lips and it clarified what would become of you if you didn't escape.

"Good! Good! This almost looks like an excellence exchange. Except we need to sample your goods first," another one commented.

"She's a hindrance to my research. Do what you want with her, I don't care. As long as you give me the canned knowledge," the bastard you once considered friend revealed as they gave you a scornful look.

The foul declaration made your stomach churn. So this was the reason why your instincts told you to decline the offer. You should have known and listened.

"Well, aren't you too eager? You hear that, girl? We're going to have loads of fun with you," to this, the three eremites guffawed and started touching your defenseless body.

You struggled against the tight hold on you. It didn't matter if you ended up with broken bones. Escape was far more important than anything else right now.

But something distracted them - something behind you made one eremite look wary and draw his sword. Meanwhile, your bastard colleague's face turned pale, suddenly shrieking and bolting away faster than lightning.

Cyno, the General Mahamatra, was here.

Your saviour easily dealt with the small group of eremites before instructing you to stay put. You did as told and watched your self-declared boyfriend go after the treacherous scholar. In less than thirty minutes, Cyno returned with your now unconscious acquaintance, their crotch area wet from fear.

Cyno scanned you from head to toe. He already captured his target but it seems there might be one more. Judging from the way you trembled, you were either hiding something illegal or still in shock.

"Trading canned knowledge is strictly prohibited," he initiated.

"I am aware," you responded weakly, shaking from both fear and excitement. "I - I was nearly sold for canned knowledge by that person. Thank you for saving me."

Cyno's eyes widened momentarily. So that was why you were in a compromising position earlier. He noted to make sure to double this person's punishment.

To investigate further, the General Mahamatra questioned you about the situation to which you obliged.

"Where are the canned knowledge?"

"I don't know," you said sheepishly as you felt pressured not knowing the answer. "I'm not even sure if these eremites really possessed them in the first place. But they did mention something about buying once was not enough?"

Cyno once again studied your movements. Your accounts and his information about this person matched. Plus, you seemed to be telling the truth. To formally conclude his investigation, he needed to check your belongings and ensure you did not possess canned knowledge or anything else that was prohibited.

Punishment did not scare you. You knew you were innocent so you let Cyno freely scan your stuff. He ran through your clothes - including your cute undies; your academic notes and books; your sufficient-just-for-travel Mora; your own Casket of Tomes; your naughty journal.

Oh, right! You had it with you in fear that someone might stumble upon it while you were away. You gasped loudly; colors drained your face as you watched Cyno open the notebook. This prompted the General Mahamatra to think the daybook contained something along the lines of academic fraud or plagiarism. An evidence of misdeed.

But what he discovered was far from what he assumed. Now he understood why you were horrified. Nothing has ever fazed him before but this - this was just too much that the quiet Cyno was left even more speechless. Almost everything written in the journal was all about your horny thoughts towards him.

Almost but not all.

You dreaded the passing minutes. Wait, was perverting the General Mahamatra illegal? It's not like you were publicly doing it, right? It was just a journal after all, something akin to therapy. In any case, you waited for Cyno's verdict.

"So...," Cyno coughed, hiding the embarrassment coursing through his body after browsing through your notes. "You...liked my joke?"

Cyno focused on the less bawdy information in your notes. He may not show it but you knew he was pleased. Still, it did not immediately dispel the shame you felt from being exposed.

"U - uhm - yes. Yes, I do...," you answered bashfully.

"You had an impressive addition for the joke about sumpter beasts. Do you mind if I use that joke myself?"

"Oh! I - uh - I don't mind. Please feel free."

"And you play Genius Invocation TCG too?"

"Yeah, I do. I watched you play once and you looked so cool. I started learning recently so I'm not as skilled as you."

"And you're my girlfriend?"

"I - I was just fantasizing!! Sorry!" you yipped. "It will not get me in trouble, will it?"

This Cyno. You were starting to relax around him! Why did he have to bring up an embarrassing topic? Wait. Was that an amused smile on his face? It must be, otherwise you were hallucinating under the scorching heat.

Cyno nodded before putting all your stuff neatly back in place.

"You're cleared. I'll escort you back home before handing this researcher for trial, and I will make sure it will be a severe one on your behalf. Be extra cautious next time," he concluded, handing you your backpack. "After this, when can I see you again?"

----------

🏛 KAVEH

Journal Entry Highlights :

> My Kaveh is not like any other scholar and I am so proud of him! ❤️

> He is so approachable and he is not snobbish (as others) and he is so open-minded and ❤️❤️

> Notice me please, sir ❤️❤️❤️

> If I told him I was dying and I needed him to fuck me as cure, will he do it? 😳👀👀‼️

> *insert crack / smut scenario wherein you ask Kaveh to cure you through sex*

> No, of course I would not stoop as low

> No, he is not the reason why I chose the Darshan Kshahrewar 🙄

> But he is the reason why I stayed 😏

> Why does he have to be so nice?? It's giving me mixed signals!! 😭😭

> If he and I were to be together... 🥺😍❤️

> Out of all the scholars in Sumeru, I want Kaveh to be my spouse ❤️

> *insert drafts / designs of dream house and rooms here*

> Sir, please give me babies. ❤️

> *insert Kaveh smut here*

> *insert portraits of Kaveh here*

> *insert more smut here wherein you and Kaveh had done the deed in every. single. room*

How they find out about your secret and their reaction :

“Excuse me, Kaveh, sir!” you approached the blonde-haired man seated on the library, drafting away on a sheet of paper. The desk was fully occupied by him as his tools and other materials took up much space.

"Hello!" Kaveh greeted and despite getting distracted, he smiled pleasantly at you.

Noticing the cute lion hairclip and the adorable accessories, he recognized his favourite junior immediately: someone whose ideas were akin to his. [Your name].

Other scholars, regardless of their Darshan, had always judged you wrong. Your sense of style, both in appearance and in work approach, always gave them the initial impression that you did not have what it takes to graduate.

Yet here you were, an accomplished architect standing in front of him.

"Just Kaveh will do, you know? So how can I help you?" he asked, resting his cheeks on his knuckles, happy to see a like-minded soul.

"Yes, uhm...," you said bashfully, stifling a giggle that's about to burst from you. "I'm looking for the scribe-"

"Why??" he immediately cut, straightening his body and squinting at you disapprovingly.

You almost laughed at your senior's reaction. You knew he liked to complain about his roommate - his benefactor - and you took advantage of this just so you could have extra time to talk to the architect. You could have gone straight to your concern without mentioning Alhaitham but no, you just had to.

"Isn't he supposed to be in his office? Wait, of course he isn't! You wouldn't be asking me otherwise if he were there, right?" Kaveh grumbled. To this, you finally let out a laugh and apologized immediately. "Ugh! Seriously! So, why did you need him anyway?"

"He rejected my application form," you sighed, showing your senior the request form you filled out with a big red REJECT mark on it.

Kaveh took your form and beckoned you to take the seat beside him. You happily obliged, patiently waiting for your crush to review your request for accessing archived materials. Judging by the look on his face, you knew he was going to complain yet again.

"This looks properly written! I don't understand why Alhaitham would decline this?!" Kaveh bursted, huffing as he re-read what you wrote for the nth time. "You even explained why you needed the materials, for what project, for whom, and for how long. See! These are complete details! Geez...! That guy..."

"Pfft... Ahem...," you wanted to laugh out loud, really, but you were in a library. On the other hand, Kaveh had no problems being loud in a quiet place like this. "I want to know why my request got denied as well, so I was thinking of asking him personally," you reasoned.

"No need!" the architecture puffed, handing the paper back to you. "Just file another request with the EXACT SAME CONTENTS. If he approves that then he is so going to get a piece of my mind!"

"Thank you for your advice."

Kaveh looked so cute. The pout on his lips indicated he was displeased with the matter. Then a smirk formed on his face as he imagined his win on the debate against the scribe.

"Sorry if I disturbed you," standing up, you told the daydreaming man.

"Hehe. It's no problem," Kaveh replied who was suddenly in a good mood after his outburst. "Let me know if your request gets approved, okay?"

"I will. Thank you."

...

"Ugh!! I swear he could be so unreasonable sometimes! No, make that all the time!" Kaveh grumbled yet again after finding out Alhaitham rejected your request.

"It's okay. He recommended another book so I did gain something," as much as you liked Kaveh, you still defended Alhaitham because he indeed suggested a better alternative.

"If you ask me, he should have lent you the other one as well. For extra inspiration, you know?" Kaveh pouted as he sensed he lost the chance to impress you and you were siding with his roommate.

This time, you agreed with the architect's reasoning and nodded in agreement. He sighed and decided to stop the Alhaitham slander.

"By the way... What do you think about this design?" the renowned architect asked, showing you his craft. He then proceeded to explain his client's request and discussed the idea behind his design in line with the requirements.

You were humbled immediately. Why would your senior ask for your advice? You were his junior and he was way better than you! You should be getting recommendations from him instead! Despite the thoughts plaguing you, you tried to take in the details he provided.

"So basically, that's what the couple wanted for their vacation lot."

"Isn't this confidential?" was your first response after he was done talking.

"Meh... Yeah," Kaveh replied carelessly with a shrug. "It's okay if it's you. Your opinion matters to me."

Your opinion matters to me. See, this was why you liked Kaveh.

"Uhm - if you say so...," you said nervously as you finally tried to gather your thoughts.

"Don't panic!" Kaveh urged, knowing fully well why your hands trembled. "I wouldn't be asking just anybody, you know?" he encouraged, giving you a persuasive wink.

You blushed at the man. At times like this, you wanted to burst and admit that you liked - no - loved him so much. But you were afraid you might just be reading too much, hallucinating that his actions were advances. He was just a nice, expressive man, that's all.

You shook your head, took in a deep breath, and focused on what your senior asked you.

"This. If the client wanted to go for that kind of feel, then I think...," you murmured while drawing a design on a separate sheet of paper.

Kaveh's smile never once disappeared on his face. Chin on his knuckles, with much adoration, he watched you draw alternatives for his design. If only he could help you trust your abilities a little more.

You and Kaveh shared ideas back and forth, igniting more inspirational thoughts within each other which led you to accomplish the draft he needed to do. He proudly raised the design and admired the finished product.

"This, [your name], right here, is our child," he declared, complimenting each and every detail on the masterpiece.

"Calling it our child is too much, don't you think?" you squeaked, afraid he might catch on to your secret feelings.

"No, it's not! It is exactly what it is!" Kaveh whined, pouting at your disapproving remarks. "Look, this right here was your idea-"

Kaveh went on with his praises, jubilantly reminding the impressive job you and he did together as a "couple".

...

This table.

This table was where you and Kaveh made a child together days ago. Sadly, it wasn't a real kid, but a project together was still something. You placed your stuff down, took out your materials, and let your brain work. It was time for you to make your own draft.

You scribbled away. You drew and drew yet the outcome did not meet your expectations. This was not what your client wanted. Yes, you had inspiration, but your ideas were all about life with Kaveh. You sighed and decided to make another entry on your private journal.

On a blank page, you started to design a bedroom. You meticulously detailed the area, taking into account where you wanted the sun's rays to be; how you expected the beddings to look like; what pattern should the curtains and rugs have; etcetera etcetera. All the little things. Just as you were about to make the finishing touch-

"Is that your dream room?" a very recognizable voice crept from behind.

"Kaveh!!" you squealed, slamming your notebook shut in trepidation.

Noticing the sketch was drawn in a notebook, Kaveh assumed it contained designs of your personal tastes. He grinned at you mischievously, waiting for a right moment.

"Y - you scared me...," you wheezed, slowly hiding the notebook away which your senior did not fail to notice.

Kaveh really did give you a fright. Luckily, there wasn't anything unusual on your splayed journal - just your recently drawn bedroom design. Archons, if he were to see the previous contents-

"Hey, can I see?"

"No!" you immediately reacted.

"Why not? Come on! Just a peek?" Kaveh pleaded.

There you were again, hiding your talent.

Complimenting your skills and praising your craft was the only thing Kaveh could do. Anything more might creep you out and make you avoid him. He wished you gave him a chance.

"No! It's embarrassing...!" you begged, almost throwing your notebook back into your bag but Kaveh was quick to stop you.

He shouldn't but he needed to resort to extreme measures.

"Hehe, got it!" Kaveh teased, now holding your naughty journal.

"No! Kaveh, stop!" you pleaded but the tall man disregarded your request.

He immediately flipped on the back of the notebook. Judging from his reaction, from the way he hummed in approval, he was looking at the recent drawing. Good. There was hope that your dirty secret remains as is.

"You saw it. Now can I get it back?" you tried yet from the way you croaked, failed to hide how defensive you sounded.

"Aww... Why would your hide something this pretty?" Kaveh cooed, flipping through the previous page.

"Wait-!!" was all you could utter.

You stood there as equally frozen as Kaveh. In the page currently exposed was an art of him holding a rolled blueprint. Hearts of unequal sizes were littered everywhere and a speech bubble quoting "This, [your name], right here, is our child! ❤️" was directed to him. The red Kaveh, with saucerlike mouth, glanced at you and saw how flustered you were - you almost wanted to vanish.

Yet he continued.

Kaveh flipped through the pages and saw more entries. Some were architectural designs which included remarks as to why you think Kaveh would like it or why it was constructed as such should you and Kaveh married each other. Other drawings were of him in different poses and expressions, all of which had hearts here and there. At times, speech bubbles were present and he remembered these quotes were the exact words he told you. The most interesting of all the entries were the long texts. There were scattered lewd words and from there, he knew they were smut.

"You like me??!" Kaveh shrieked. "For how long now???"

His whole head was now burning red, you could almost see smoke coming out of his ears, nose, and mouth. He was so surprised that he had to lean back while placing a hand on his chest, gawking at you in astonishment.

You were equally as red as him and you wanted cry. In fact, tears already formed in your eyes. One more word from Kaveh and you were sure to grovel in despair.

"W - Wait! Wait! No! No! Don't cry...!" the blonde-haired man panicked, fidgeting if he should approach you or let you be or what to say or-

And then the tears fell followed by restrained sniffles and soft quaking of your shoulders.

"Oh no, no, no...!" Kaveh blurted, dashing to hold you in his arms and press your face onto his chest.

Archons, this was so embarrassing.

"Kaveh...!" you whimpered, to weak to do anything at all.

You liked him. That couldn't be right. Not when he held onto a conflicting piece of information.

"Argh! You're coming with me!" Kaveh spouted.

He packed your things, chucking everything carelessly in your bag, before dragging you to a more secluded area outside the Akademiya.

The garden. You and him alone together in the garden would have been romantic had it not been for the events earlier. The moment he stopped dragging you, he immediately clarified.

"Didn't you say you liked Alhaitham??"

"Huh?" was your response as you snuffled in confusion, still recovering from the awkward situation.

Really, this man could fluster you in many ways.

"Alhaitham. You told me you liked Alhaitham," Kaveh repeated, now more serious in his tone.

"When...?" your forehead wrinkled tightly, now getting annoyed and confused at the sudden accusation.

"Back when you were a student! You mentioned you had a crush on Alhaitham once and that was the first time you approached me. You told me you wanted to know my friend's name then you asked about your project so we worked on it together-"

And then it dawned on him. It wasn't Alhaitham. It was never Alhaitham. That guy was just your excuse so you could talk with each other. An icebreaker. Kaveh prided himself to be more knowledgeable in reading emotions yet he missed this very important pattern.

Your forehead was still tightly knitted, red puffy eyes glaring angrily at him. Archons, from all that happened earlier, you probably hated him now. But he had to do this, otherwise he won't have any other chance.

"So, you like me?" Kaveh, still not learning his lesson, badgered. You huffed out loud, exasperated with his antics. "No - just! I want to hear it from you! Do you like me?"

"Yes. Are you happy now?"

Did he really have to make you say it? Wasn't invading your journal enough??

"Really??" Kaveh beamed.

Why was he happy? Did he-

"I like you too, you know!" Kaveh bursted in excitement. "Archons, you should have told me from the start! All this time I thought you liked Alhaitham."

At this point, you weren't sure if you should believe him.

"What's with that look? Come on. I'm not lying! Hey, so, since we like each other, can we start dating now? Or will you give me the permission to properly court you?"

----------

🍄 TIGHNARI

Journal Entry Highlights :

> Tighnari's ears and tail look so fluffy! 🤩

> I WANT TO TOUCH THEM SO BAD!! 🤩‼️

> *insert drawings of Tighnari's head and tail here*

> But those aren't the only things I want to touch 😏

> So...does Tighnari have a knot or....??? 👀

> And does he have the urge to breed...? 🥵

> *insert fantasy wherein Tighnari is in a rut and he fills you*

> *insert fantasy wherein Tighnari fills you up to the brim and he plugs your pussy with his knot so the cum just stays there*

> *insert drawing of Tighnari with lust-filled eyes as he licked his lips*

> Tighnari is such a strict teacher, though. 🥺

> "You don't learn fast, do you? You should know by now that I want my cock deep inside you... All.the.way.in..."

> *insert fantasy of Tighnari forcing a hardcore fellatio*

> *insert fantasy of you and Tighnari on a mating press*

How they find out about your secret and their reaction :

“Hey, hey! I see a withering zone! Oh - there's another one! Wait - wait!! Make that a total of three withering zones!” you shouted as you gazed on the Seed Mirror.

"How big are they and how far?" your peer asked in a loud voice so you could hear.

"Uh - wait, let me mark them on my map!" you answered as you plotted the location on your map. "I've got it!"

You jumped down from the watch tower and met with your companion. Your fellow forest ranger shook their head as they thought of how impulsive and reckless you could be.

"See, look. These are the three locations. Now this one right here looks waaay bigger than these two so I think it's urgent," you pointed.

"Archons, is this really the scope of this withering zone? It wasn't there last time, right? We should immediately report this to Tighnari then!" your companion suggested, alarmed at the big red loop drawn on your map.

"I know. You go on ahead. I'll continue with our route," you counter-proposed. "You can go back on your own, right?"

"Hey! Just because I don't have a Vision like you, doesn't mean I can't go back on my own!" your friend retorted, giving you a playful noogie.

"Ahaha! Sorry!" you laughed. "But really, you should head back."

"Are you sure you don't want to report this to Tighnari yourself?" your friend teased as they knew you had a huge crush on the Forest Watcher.

"Hah! I know that look!" you amusingly replied. "I don't mind if you report it to Tighnari. Someone has to continue our patrol route. If something unexpected happens, say another withering zone appeared or an ambush happened, then my Vision can at least give me some protection," you explained as tactfully as possible before repeating. "You go on ahead."

"Alright," your friend hesitated, yet they tucked your map away so they could depart. "Be careful, little miss reckless."

"I prefer being called little miss brave," you retorted.

You and your friend bid each other farewell. Touching your [element] Vision, a smile painted your face as you watched your friend sprint back to Gandharva Ville. It was for the best. You nodded before continuing your route.

The usual walk seemed to be normal. There were no travelers in need of assistance; no unusual activity harming the forest; no peculiar discrepancy in the beast population. It was just the usual lush greeneries and peaceful surroundings.

At the end of your patrol route was a forest ranger's watch post. You let yourself in and wrote today's findings on a logbook.

[Date time] - Three withering zones detected using Mawtiyima Forest Seed Mirror, one with wide range; to be reported by [friend's name] to Tighnari; No other unusual activities and no lost/troubled travelers encountered - [your name]

After the long routine, you sat down and took greedy gulps from your water bag, resting and relaxing your feet for a while. By now, you thought, Tighnari should be aware of the withering zone.

Oh, Tighnari, your cute fluffy leader.

You were finished with your route anyway. Maybe it was okay for you to check out the withering zones? Since you already knew where they were, you decided to go and guide wandering travelers in avoiding the said areas.

The trek to your destination was a long one so you opted to take shortcuts. As a forest ranger, you should set an example to passers-by that they should utilize the available pathways, yet here you were, away from the trail and traversing through the forest. You should be fine, you thought. You had a Vision.

Pacing further, you heard rustling noises. This prompted you to go into alert mode and steal a sneak peek. To your surprise, two floating hydro fungi and two floating dendro fungi seemed to be dancing around and releasing spores.

"What in the name of Archons...?" you whispered to yourself, jotting down notes.

Ah, shoot. If you reported this, Tighnari would give you an earful for not following the tracks and for wandering into the forest alone.

Anyway.

"...releasing spores... search the area for... Yep," you said as you wrote your thoughts down.

Mating. From what you know, the fungi were mating. Sexual reproduction, of course, was a normal thing. But was this a normal circumstance or was it anomalous?

Sneaking away from the love-making fungi, you investigated the area further. To your surprise, even other species were doing the deed. On one of a tree branch, you saw dusk birds on top of another. Not far from that tree, you even stumbled upon lizards on a mating hold.

What could be the cause of this?

You noted every single detail on your notebook as you judged this was indeed abnormal. Searching further, you noticed a pink puffy cloud coming from whatever it was behind a bush. You covered your mouth and nose with a scarf before sneaking on the unknown creature.

A pink-coloured poison mushroom. What an unusual shade!

Assuming you were in a safe distance, you wrote down your findings again and described the peculiar mushroom in detail.

"...pink gas cloud... Shape and pattern looks like...," you murmured, drawing the figure.

Odd. You were oddly starting to feel horny at an alarming pace.

No... It couldn't be...?

"Possibly emitting aphrodisiac." You quickly scribbled.

You immediately packed your notebook to flee, only to realize there were smaller pink poison shrooms around you hidden under bushes and tress. You failed to recognize them earlier as you were too engrossed with the bigger pink fungus. And now, it seems you fell right into their trap as all of them produced the pink fluff clouds, peppering your body with their spores.

"S - shoot...!" you cursed, feeling your crotch area ache.

...

"So [your name] was here," Tighnari murmured to himself as he put down the watch post's logbook.

The Forest Watcher Chief Officer himself scouted the area looking for you since you did not return to Gandharva Ville last night.

"She insisted that she should go alone. Knowing her, she must have gone to the withering zones."

Tighnari thought the same even if your co-ranger did not tell him. That reckless and foolhardy nature of yours was exactly the reason why he couldn't promote you as Forest Watcher. He knew why you were acting that way, though. Regardless, you always had him worried over you.

"I have a Vision, don't worry!" was what you would always retort.

It didn't matter if you had a Vision or not. Tighnari cared about you. And this was precisely what he feared. Wherever you were, he wished you were safe and away from harm.

If he were [your name], what would he do? Go off-track, of course!

He tried to simulate your steps, diving straight into the forest in hopes of finding you. He made his ears work extra hard to listen. He utilized high ground to search. He analyzed the surroundings to determine if you had gone through the same path or not. At last, his efforts were not in vain as he finally found your exhausted body seated under a tree, your back leaning on its hard trunk.

"[Your name]!" Tighnari called, darting towards you while staying on high alert.

Fast heart rate. Heavy breathing. Flushed skin. Profuse sweating. He wanted to but he couldn't possibly nag you right now.

"... Nari...," you cried weakly, opening your eyes in a small slit to confirm it was indeed your leader.

"I'm here. Tsk. I told you not to be too reckless. Now look at what happened," Tighnari said. Okay, maybe a little bit of reprimanding wouldn't hurt.

He took out his medicine box and scanned your symptoms. He placed the back of his hand on your neck to which you immediately avoided.

"Nari, don't...!" you uttered, distancing yourself as tears formed in the corners of your eyes. Self-restraint was hard. "Logbook."

You handed him your ranger's journal-on-the-go so it could better explain your situation. In it, he found out about your little misadventure yesterday. He read about the unusual phenomenon you encountered and the pink poison mushroom that affected you.

"I - I was poisoned...," you finally declared with a heavy heart. How could you impress Tighnari now?

You tried. You really tried not to touch yourself again, thinking it was the best option as it hurt when you did. But now that Tighnari himself was here, your urge to finger yourself increased ten fold. You squeezed your thighs in hopes of pleasuring yourself through the friction of your flesh.

"You're horny," Tighnari corrected, observing you as he put your logbook and his medicine box away. He then guided you to drink on his water bag. "You've been thinking about me, haven't you?"

"H - huh...??" you shrieked, eyes widening at Tighnari's bold assumption.

"I said you were thinking about having sex with me," Tighnari affirmed to which you gasped loudly. He brushed off the topic, returned his water bag in place, and explained, "You were right. That pink mushroom puffs out spores that can be used as aphrodisiac. They normally reproduce asexually and rarely sexually, though. A parent mushroom is usually surrounded by its offsprings because it constantly emits spores. Unfortunately, most of the time, the baby mushrooms don't survive so these pink mushrooms are rare to find. They can only hope their spores would grow somewhere else, wherever nature takes them."

You would have listened attentively if you weren't thinking about what Tighnari said.

You having sex with him.

"Is there any cure for this...?" you asked, panting.

"In your case, since you were overexposed, medicine would not be enough," Tighnari replied. "But there is another way."

Tighnari placed both his hands on your thighs and parted them to give him enough space, all the while observing the expression in your eyes. You felt his hands squeeze your flesh, making you moan and produce more love juice.

"T - Tighnari...!!" you cried, feeling weak from your crush's touch.

"We can do whatever you want in your fantasy," Tighnari said. "I know you have been perverting me. You want to fuck with me, right?"

Using one hand, he took yours and guided you to touch his crotch area. Your pussy spasmed as you felt how hard Tighnari was. Did he want to fuck you too?

"How did you know?" you breathily asked, rubbing your palm on Tighnari's cloth. At this point, you couldn't be bothered to hide how you felt towards him.

"Your naughty journal," Tighnari answered followed by an erotic groan. "Remember the time when I accidentally stumbled upon you writing on it? I lied when I said I didn't see anything," he revealed, losing his composure as you pressed your hands on his clothed manhood.

"So... All this time, you knew...?"

Rather than being embarrassed, you felt more courageous. Hearing Tighnari's erotic noises urged you to continue teasing him. You rubbed on his hard member faster to the point that his pre-cum stained his lower garments.

But Tighnari would never let you have the upper hand. You were under the effects of aphrodisiac and he intended to take advantage of that. He pressed his knee on your crotch area, hitting your puffy clit and making you weak in an instant. His relentless teasing on your clothed womanhood had you cumming tons.

"N - nari! Tighnari! Ahh...!!"

"Hehe. Yeah. All this time I knew," he finally answered after hearing your angelic moans of his name.

Yes, he knew about your perverted thoughts towards him. But he would never admit his more debauched fantasies of you. At long last, he could listen to your sweet erotic voice properly instead of the usual muffled ones. This was way better than secretly eavesdropping on you masturbate to him back in the village.

"Stop! I'm cumming!" you squealed, grabbing onto his shoulder with both hands as another orgasm crashed down on you. You held his body close to yours, crying as the stimulation was too much for you. "Nari... Please stop...! I can't...!"

Yet the tone of your voice, from the way you pant and grind your body, suggested you wanted more.

"You started this, [your name]. If you just stayed on track and came home yesterday, then we wouldn't be doing this, would we? Now look. You got poisoned and I needed to cure you. To do that, you need to cum over and over again until you feel your body flushes out the aphrodisiacs," Tighnari reprimanded.

He secretly gloated about how much power he had over your body. Watching you plead with your eyes stirred his primordial instincts to breed you.

"I forgot to mention. I might have been affected by the mushroom too."

----------

🗺 WANDERER

Journal Entry Highlights :

How they find out about your secret and their reaction :

> A lovely kind young man saved me from aggressive wild sumpter beasts today

> A mysterious man who needed not his name

> It's okay, I like mysteries 😍😏

> He came back and introduced himself as The Wanderer. I like it ❤️

> Gosh, I can't stop thinking about him. 🥺🥺

> He looks yummy

> Why oh why do I want to make love with him? 🥺🥺🥺

> *insert sensual, romantic fantasies here*

> I haven't seen him for a while but then he comes back and he has suddenly...changed??

> He has an Anemo Vision now! 🤩🤩

> And he still remembers me! 😍

> So he goes by the name [W/N]... Why didn't he tell me sooner? 😳🙄

> He can be rude at times but I can see he's good deep inside

> Good deep inside. Heh. 😏

> Why does this new him make me feel hornier?

> *insert fantasy of The Wanderer being rough on you here*

——————————————————

"[W/N], you're here!" you giddily greeted the Anemo user as you carried a heavy pail of water.

"You idiot! That's not the proper way to carry a shit-ass heavy bucket," the man replied, grabbing the object and putting it down exactly where you needed it to be even without your instructions.

"Hehe. Thank you," with a sweet smile on your face, you expressed your gratitude to the man. His face distorted in disgust as he looked at your happy one.

Taking care of crops was no simple task. You needed to be patient and observant. Patient, because a plant could never bear fruit naturally overnight. You needed to tend to it everyday - do labor and you shall receive. Observant, because as the plant grows, its needs becomes different. Today it might need more watering but tomorrow, it might not require any more. And let us not get started on the pests that may bother it.

Just like in your relationship with The Wanderer, you needed to be both patient and observant. Patient, because he seemed to be the type of person who is not used to expressing his own emotions immediately and fully. Observant, because even if he said something, most of the time his actions contradicted them.

The Wanderer glanced upon a freshly brewed tea sitting on your outdoor table. From its scent and colour, he knew what it would taste like. You noticed this and smiled triumphantly at yourself.

"It's for you. I was expecting you," you publicized, watering your carrots carefully.

"Hmph! And if I didn't come?" he scoffed, yet proceeded to perching himself on a chair and stealing a sip from the bitter drink.

"Then I would drink it myself. There shouldn't be a problem," you retorted.

The Wanderer enjoyed banters like these. When you acted too polite around him, after he obtained his Anemo Vision, you noticed he found it boring. So you changed tactics and, every now and then you would reply something a little less nice...at least they weren't, in your opinion.

"By the way, I remember you mentioned you joined the esteemed traveler and his floating fish on their journey. Why aren't you with them now?" you inquired genuinely, placing your attention on The Wanderer.

"Heh! Floating fish. That's a good one! Hahahahaha!" your handsome companion heartily laughed.

Why does it feel like he was mocking you?

"Floating fish. Heh!" he repeated, wiping a tear that actually formed in his eyes. "The traveler took uninteresting commissions today so I decided to split away momentarily."

"Uninteresting commissions like what?"

"Bounce on an oversized mushroom, for one!" The Wanderer roared exasperatedly, his eyes twitching in disgust.

You laughed at the silly face your friend was making.

"I think that's an interesting task! Is it really possible to bounce on a huge mushroom? I had no idea," you mused, eyes widening in delight.

"For a person like you, of course it is amusing," he argued back, rolling his eyes.

"Is it boring for you because you have an Anemo Vision?" was another genuine question from you.

"This has nothing to do with my Vision." The guy palmed his face.

You had a lively chat with The Wanderer in the morning. Then afternoon came. All your routine was done and the both of you had lunch. That was when your companion excused himself and left.

Of course, you could not stop him. Even if you wished him to stay, you had no rights as you were nothing more than a friend.

Even now, I'm not sure if he likes me or not. I might just be fantasizing too much but there was no other explanation why he would come and visit me. I wish he would give me a sign. Anything at all.

You scribbled on your journal. You intended it to be your therapeutic object to vent your day-to-day encounters yet somehow, it became full of [W/N] fantasies.

I've been needy lately. Just like yesterday and the day before that, all I could think about was how it would feel to have [W/N] inside of me. I want to touch. I want to be touched. I want him to take me from behind, gripping my hips so he could take full control of my body. I want to feel weak as he rams his whole length inside of me. His

You couldn't even finish what you were writing. The more you thought about it, the more engrossed you became. A free hand already made its way inside your clothing and started to pleasure your lady parts.

"[W/N], wait...! You're the first man I've ever been with so please...," you heaved breathily, closing your eyes and picturing the visitor you had this morning as a digit circled itself on your puffy clit.

...

"So this was where my pail went. And you even filled it with water. How kind of you," you remarked happily as The Wanderer once again visited you after a few days of absence. "Good morning!"

"Rub that fucking ugly face of yours," he replied. "You didn't prepare tea for me. So you weren't expecting me?"

"Sorry! I was preoccupied with looking for my bucket, which apparently someone took already. The tea water is still boiling so you'll have to wait," you reasoned, failing to contain the ecstacy coursing through your being. "How have you been?"

"Tch! How ungrateful! Do you want me to throw the water away then?" he roared angrily at your accusation to which you shook your head, stifling an amused chuckle. "What I do is none of your concern. I don't have to tell you anything," he grumbled, resting his chin on his knuckles.

His temper might be because he had not had his tea yet. You nodded and started to water your plants. As you've explained, you couldn't serve him tea because you were still waiting for the water to boil.

"Cancel your plans this afternoon."

"Huh??" you choked, nearly drowning a poor cabbage with water in shock of The Wanderer's sudden demand.

"Are you fucking deaf or are you just fucking stupid?" he rolled his eyes in annoyance. "I said cancel your damn plans this afternoon."

"Why? W - what's the occasion?" Archons, was this the sign?

The Wanderer simply looked at you. As he said before, he didn't have to say anything. But you, you had to answer him.

"Okay. After lunch, right?" you replied, blushing at the idea of an afternoon date.

The indigo-eyed man remained silent as he did not need to confirm it. Of course he meant after lunch! You smiled anyway as the sound of whistling kettle broke the silence, prompting you to give your visitor his well deserved tea.

...

"Oh, so this is what a huge mushroom looks like," you marveled at the enormous stretchy fungi, poking it for any kind of reaction. "It reminds me of you."

"I will fucking murder you if you say that one more time," The Wanderer warned, shooting daggers at your laughing face. He sighed, crossed his arms, and asked in a vigor-less tone, "Do you want to try it?"

"Yes! Please?"

"Jump on it then."

"That's it? What if I die??" you shrieked, bothered by the lack of clear instructions.

"Then you die."

You exasperatedly gasped at your companion's behaviour to which he laughed in amusement.

"Ahaha! Kidding! Your face looks stupid, seriously!" he teased before guiding you to climb an oversized fungus. "Okay, jump."

"Jump??" you hesitated. "As in jump??"

"Yes, jump. For the love of - just fucking jump already!" The Wanderer ordered.

"Nnh...!"

Shutting your eyes tight, you did as told and boldly jumped on the stretchy fungus. Your initial fear poofed away as you now bounced up and down the mushroom happily.

"[W/N]! Look! Look!" you called, ricochetting against the elastic shroom. "I'm Anemo now!"

You were enjoying so much that you failed to notice the smile painted on The Wanderer's face. Seriously, what was a person like you doing, bouncing on an overstretched, oversized mushroom? You looked so stupid.

So stupid, it was cute.

"Heeeey! Join me! It's actually fun!" you beckoned, flailing your hands in the air jovially.

After throwing you high in the air, the mushroom suddenly clunked and disappeared, leaving you cushionless on your next fall. You noticed this, making panic course through your every fibre.

"[W/N]!!"

"I've got you!" The Wanderer rang, carrying you bridal style mid-air.

Your heart beated so loud, not only from the adrenaline, but from the way The Wanderer carefully held you in his arms; from how his soft baby-face looked up close; from how his lips trembled so slightly as yours were inches away from his.

"I've got you," he whispered, eyes softly squinted as he stared at yours tenderly.

You could have sworn you were going to kiss. His lips were approaching yours and - Archons, you were sure of it! But he just had to ruin the moment and switch back to his usual grumpy nature.

"I should have let you fall and die," The Wanderer clicked his tongue, contradicting everything by gingerly putting you down on solid ground.

"Thank you..."

"Tch! You're an idiot."

...

Today was a happy day! I enjoyed myself so much! [W/N] came to visit me again and he took me on a date ❤️‼️ He let me bounce on a huge mushroom. It was fun until the mushroom poofed away. I nearly died but [W/N] caught me. It was magical! We were floating in the air using his Anemo powers, I gingerly on his arms. I was like a bride and we almost kissed happily ever after. ALMOST.

You jotted down freely on your notebook, just extremely happy that you had a wonderful time with your crush. You were on cloud nine and nothing could ever bring you down now.

Maybe he really did like me? Maybe he and I had a chance?

Maybe. Just maybe. It wouldn't hurt to wish, right?

...

The events yesterday cajoled you to sleep peacefully. Even in your slumber, you fantasized about a happy ending with The Wanderer. You couldn't bear to wake yourself from such a sweet dream so you woke up a little later than usual.

After the trip back from dreamland, your body finally stirred as you started to wake up from a wonderful rest. You stretched your limbs and let out a relaxed yawn, preparing your body for another day of work.

"Disgusting."

You shot up and saw The Wanderer perched on your desk chair in a figure four lock, facing your way as one knuckle supported his head while the other held your personal journal.

"W - What are you doing in my home?" you accused, trying to process everything. What was apparent now was The Wanderer invaded your home and had read your journal.

"Hmph! You incriminate me yet from the text written on your diary, you should be glad I'm here," The Wanderer scoffed, casting your journal back on the desk.

"Y - you...!" was all you could utter.

A mix of fear, anger, shame, and confusion painted your face - all of which were negative emotions. You had so much on your face, it looked stupid - so stupid that The Wanderer laughed in amusement.

"Surprised? Of course you should be! Hah, I bet you didn't expect this the moment you woke up, huh?" he teased in a mocking tone. "Tell me, then, oh dear [your name]. Do you still like me?"

Of course you still liked him. You knew he was a good man, despite him barging into your home unannounced. But right now, you had a lot of questions plaguing your mind.

Such as what was his purpose for doing such a thing?

The Wanderer counted the seconds until time was up. Your lack of response, deep down, disappointed him. Just as he thought, you would cower away once he showed you a glimpse of what he truly was. Internally in defeat, he stood up and prepared to depart.

"It was foolish of you to form feelings towards me. Learn from your mistakes."

Why does it feel like his words were directed at himself? Even before you could ponder further, you found yourself holding The Wanderer tightly in your arms, your faces tucked on each other's neck.

"Forget about me."

"I like you," you replied. "I like you."

"You're being foolish."

"You've told me a million times that I'm an idiot."

"Idiot. An idiot is different from a fool."

"Then I am a fool in love with you."

"Heh! You don't even know what you're dealing with yet you throw away the word love carelessly."

"Then what exactly am I dealing with, [W/N]?"

A long pause. He hesitated for a long while, filling the room with awkward silence. What was he doing, unmoving in your arms when he promised to forsake worthless emotions and to simply live for himself? He felt like he himself was a fool.

A fool in love with you.

"I am not a human," he revealed in a modest hushed tone of barely a whisper.

He expected you to react negatively - to turn back and cast him aside as you had no future with him. Who would want to be with a puppet, right? Surely no happy ending awaited you if you pursued him further.

"Does this mean you didn't like me?" you asked genuinely.

To this, he didn't answer. Of course, he liked you. He knew your feelings were genuine towards him. It was just he had a lot of questions haunting his mind.

Such as was he willing to risk loving again despite everything he's been through?

"You're afraid, aren't you?" in a gentle voice, you asked. Your thumb gingerly made soothing strokes onto his flesh as you waited for his response.

Seconds passed and with no response from The Wanderer, you deemed it was best to let him go. But the moment you loosened your grip, he immediately pressed your body against his.

"What if I told you we cannot build a family together?"

"Just tell me that you love me and visit me from time to time. That's enough for me," you declared, letting yourself melt in The Wanderer's arms. "I love you, [W/N]."

His new name has never sounded so angelic before. He was someone who preferred extremely bitter tastes yet from the way his name sweetly rolled off your tongue, he might turn into a new man.

Of course he would never admit that verbally.

Yet.

But his actions would.

So he planted a modest kiss on your cheek, a speck of promise that he would make your relationship grow and bloom.

Told you there would be drama.

I guess I got too carried away with The Wanderer's scene that it became too long? Or is it just my imagination? 😅

To whoever read this, thank you for your time. Here, have some curry rice - one for you and one for your Genshin hubby. 🍛🍛

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin smut #genshin alhaitham #genshin alhaitham smut #genshin cyno #genshin cyno smut #genshin kaveh #genshin kaveh smut #genshin tighnari #genshin tighnari smut #genshin wanderer #genshin wanderer smut #genshin the wanderer #genshin the wanderer smut #Naughty Journal Series

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alianoralacanta · 4 months ago

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Paddock Magazine Analysis (13-12-2007)

Context: Following the McLaren/Ferrari spying controversy of 2007, where McLaren eventually lost its 2nd place in the World Constructor's Championship and got a $100 m fine, Max Mosley in his capacity as FIA President did two interviews. The first was for BBC Hardtalk. His performance there was very poor, making it look suspiciously like the FIA's case was weak. More telling was the second interview, with Paddock Magazine. Given that Paddock Magazine was a FIA publication, it was not exactly going to be the height of intentional journalism. However, it provided an excellent demonstration of the FIA's beliefs about the case. When combined with what had been learned in 2007 (from the Hardtalk interview and earlier proceedings of the case), it was incredibly destructive to the FIA's case against McLaren. In combination, it went to the degree of indicating the FIA had a case to answer itself… My understanding of legal issues has evolved since then but I do not believe the FIA's position has correspondingly improved. (The first parts of quotes are bolded, to help put structure to this essay. I've also had to delete the artificial double-spacing that ended up in there for some reason. For the record, if I wanted to double-space an entry, I'd use the double-space function).

Warning! Long entry alert! An annotated guide to the Paddock Magazine interview with Max Mosley. It is the December 2007 edition, and the FIA has given us a handy link.

It is, as the FIA probably hoped, a good guide to the state of Max Mosley's thinking. Let's probe into this resource to find out exactly what the implications are of the interaction between Max's thought processes and what can be ascertained from other sources.

"I think, in the end, the championship went to the right person"

Max has a good point here. Kimi did in fact do the best performance out of the challengers, so it was perfectly sensible for him to have won the prize. It's refreshing to see some sensible opinions from Max.

"Well, I don't think it [the off-track drama] has done any damage - in fact, it has raised public awareness".

Yes, Max - raised it and turned them right off again. Unfortunately, the good initial note didn't last long.

"The only harm would come if people started to believe it [the spying] was endemic and we couldn't stamp it out."

Most people that weren't deeply knowledgeable about F1 before the Ferrari/McLaren mess were not aware that F1 even had spying. Their impression would not have been that stopping spying was good, it would have been "What do you mean, F1 has spying?!?" The people who've been following F1 for a time know that spying at some level is both endemic and, to a certain extent, inevitable. Admittedly, it is not inevitable to the point alleged against either McLaren or Renault, but information transfer between teams is inherant in any industry whose primary value is in the contents of talented people's heads. Formula 1 is demonstrably such an industry.

"I found myself defending McLaren, rather than trying to explain why we'd done what we had to do!"

If the HardTalk interview constituted a defence of McLaren's behaviour, I'm glad the interviewer did not ask Max to attack McLaren, because it looked to me and a number of other people as if Mosley was launching a McLaren attack at the time.

"The whole thing [the Ferrari/McLaren mess] should have been stopped before it started".

Correct. One would have thought that Nigel Stepney and Mike Coughlan would have known their information-swapping behaviour was slightly dodgy before engaging in it. Apparently not (at least in Coughlan's case).

"Ron [Dennis] could have gone to Jean [Todt] immediately after Australia and said: "Look, we asked the FIA about your floor because there's somebody at Ferrari giving us information".

Two problems. One, this was not the FIA's line at the time. For example, Spyker submitted a protest at that very race concerning Super Aguri and Squadra Toro Rosso using a Toro Rosso drawing, which arrived at Spyker by an unknown route (or at least, unknown to people outside the paddock such as me). Nobody from the FIA openly asked Spyker to tell Franz Tost about the drawing (this may have happened quietly, or Colin Kolles may have done the courtesy call on his own initiative, but we don't know either way). The impression that this sort of thing gives is that if the FIA is contacted in such a way that it receives the offending document(s), the opposing team manager need not be (perhaps because the FIA contacts the opposing team manager as a matter of routine in these cases). So what Max is effectively saying is that the FIA's policy was wrong at the time, for if McLaren had known that the FIA policy wouldn't hold six months down the line, it is highly unlikely he would have taken the path of relying on the known FIA procedures to do the appeal. Instead, he would have either informed Jean Todt (if he had known about the Stepney/Coughlan flow and intended to get it stopped) or he would have simply said nothing, and probably not appealed the Ferrari car in Australia at all (if he thought there was only the one document and/or he wanted to attempt to evade notice).

Secondly, there is no particular reason to believe that Jean would have stopped the information flow on Dennis' say-so, especially as it has yet to be proved whether Dennis knew who in the team had received the drawings, let alone whether this person had received the drawing in a legal fashion. For that matter, it isn't even clear that Dennis knew there was a drawing involved - it is entirely conceivable that Coughlan would only have told people verbally about what he knew about the Ferrari floor, and not given away sources. Certainly if I was in Coughlan's position and intended to use this Ferrari information illegally, this is what I would have done. Simply because the drawing was eventually discovered due to Trudy Coughlan stupidly taking some Ferrari CDs to a photocopy shop does not mean that her husband was stupid in his dealings with the material. With hindsight, the truly smart thing to have done would be to take the moral high ground and denounce Stepney as openly and as immediately as possible, but none of us have foresight as good as our hindsight.

"You get the odd person saying that this has always gone on in F1, but that's nonsense".

Er... ...Shadow/Arrows in 1977, anyone? That was the entire (successful) theft of a team's entire intellectual property (IP), back before the term was even invented. Then there's the whole Ferrari/Toyota mess, involving a copious amount of data theft by more than one ex-Ferrari (and now ex-Toyota and presumably ex-F1) employee.

Admittedly, the general backdrop of espionage is on nowhere near as large a scale (the McLaren/Renault mess is probably a run-of-the-mill example among instances of dishonest information transfer). However, the alleged extent of the Ferrari/McLaren mess has precedents.

"There was a constant stream of information for months"

Interestingly enough, this wasn't proven at the WMSC court, though Max would like to pretend it was proven. Having reviewed the relevant portion of the Ferrari/McLaren September case transcript, I have spotted in the preliminaries that the documents that supposedly prove this statement were considered by the McLaren lawyer to be illegally obtained and illegally revealed to the WMSC court. The response from the WMSC was that it was not concerned about whether the documents were legal. Since it was illegal to use them in court, it was also illegal to base any part of the judgement on these documents. As a result, these documents cannot constitute evidence, let alone proof, of the exchange between Stepney and Coughlan - unless the Italian courts deem that the documents do in fact constitute such evidence.

This hasn't happened yet. Therefore, there is no actual proof that the "live" part occurred, since the WMSC Court appeared to have no other sources for this in its transcript. It thought the illegally-used and unproven documents were "impressive" enough.

"The second major mistake that McLaren made was when they held an inquiry... ...they didn't do it thoroughly enough"

Well, all it would have taken is for two people to have lied in a way that was undetected and McLaren wouldn't have been able to detect that connection. Even if Coughlan and de la Rosa had been somewhat truthful (by admitting that they talked to each other), how much would have been considered normal for two employees, and would it be possible to prove in the relatively short timeframe (the inquiry occurred in the run-up to the July meeting, giving McLaren about three weeks to get the inquiry completed) to go through 1000 people's e-mails to find a handful of dodgy e-mails? Even if only e-mails sent by Coughlan were considered (it is known that McLaren suspected him of something, as he got suspended pretty sharpish when the exchange was initially discovered), that would still have been dozens, and likely hundreds, of e-mails to check. In a company that size, it is fairly easy for a dodgy e-mail connection to go undetected. Usually, discovery occurs when one of the parties accidentally copies their e-mail to someone who has the power to stop or inform on the perpetrators, or else someone in power sees such an e-mail on the screen. For all the advances in e-mail monitoring software, breaches outside a limited range (porn, unnecessary attachments, swearing and personal e-mailing) remain very difficult to detect, especially if the intention is to do so without unduly impeding the free flow of legitimate information. It would take a very time-consuming and thorough, or a very lucky inquiry, to have found out that a rogue employee was transferring illegally-obtained information to another employee unless one of them confessed. That didn't happen until early September (and then it was not to McLaren but to the FIA) - rather late for the initial July trial!

"I think everyone felt that there was more to this than we'd heard [in the July case]".

No, most of us didn't; at least, not in the English-speaking sources I've seen. The Europeans generally write in languages other than English, which makes assessing the rest of Max's answer difficult (the only other language I know is Spanish, and the Spaniards would presumably be pro-Alonso...) The time of which Max speaks was before the time that the FIA started chucking out transcripts to the general public at the slightest opportunity. We, the general public, were not expecting anything else to come out of the case. If the WMSC was, why didn't they take the trouble to advise us in the decision? Oh, wait a minute, that would have made their decision to try the case so early look premature...

In case you're wondering, not every Spanish source was pro-FIA about the second trial. El Pais was concerned that the FIA decision was pro-Ferrari - but maybe its being in Spanish precluded Max from reading it. So the generalisation that the continentals were all pro-FIA in the end is false.

"I'd already been told that some e-mails existed, by Bernie [Ecclestone] [when Ron Dennis informed Max of the e-mails]"

Clive at F1 Insight has already tackled this matter; suffice to say that Max's pretence that he was hearing about the e-mails from Ron for the first time is unimpressive at best. More transparency is expected from people enforcing rules.

"I wasn't sure enough to write to the drivers, until the Italian police came up with the list of all the contacts"

Excuse me, but isn't this the same inadmissible list that has already supposedly proven a "live" link between Nigel Stepney and Mike Coughlan despite its inadmissibility? If this is so, then Max was not entitled to use it as a tool to compel anyone to comply with its wishes, particularly with the threat implied with it being an FIA instruction. Such behaviour demeans the validity of FIA instructions.

That said, the FIA could and perhaps should have asked every employee in McLaren to turn over all relevant evidence as soon as it opened the investigation of the case on a reasonably-scaled amnesty scheme. It had the power to analyse the e-mails (including Spanish translation!) that McLaren could not reasonably be capable of doing in such a short time-frame, and it would also have led to a considerably swifter route to the conclusion of this matter.

"they [the e-mails] either came from Alonso or de la Rosa. But presumably the Alonso camp"

That's a mighty big leap, given that Max does not give evidence that differentiates the two. This sort of thinking can be seen elsewhere in this interview, to sometimes dangerous effect to his own case.

By the way, reading personal e-mails is normally illegal under the Computer Misuse Act. However, the sense of Max's elaboration of this question indicates that Fernando chose to reveal these e-mails to Bernie (why remains a mystery, when it would have been simpler to forward the lot to Max), on this occasion the initial Alonso e-mail can be said to have been acquired legally. There is no question over whether the subsequent driver e-mails were obtained legally, only whether Max's justification for requesting them was based on legally-obtained documentation.

"I still think, from a legal point of view, we should have excluded everybody [relating to McLaren over the Ferrari/McLaren mess]."

I'll give him that - he has never deviated once from this point of view. He is consistent in at least some of his opinions. If you assume the conclusion that the WMSC wanted us to believe, then this also follows. The conclusion is therefore valid.

The trouble is that the conclusion is not sound, for the evidence has turned out to be some illegally-obtained Italian documents and a bunch of e-mails that only prove that three employees knew rather than one (and also suggesting that only those three knew - otherwise the e-mails would have been in English and had a wider circulation). This means that there were three rogue employees. The two discovered by the September trial had been granted full amnesty, so technically the FIA was not empowered to issue any punishment to the rest of the team following the evidence, due to its inadequete nature.

"In the end, arguably justice was done [in the McLaren/Ferrari mess]."

Try making that quote compatible with the previous quote. Note that they are spoken by the same person, in the same paragraph in relation, to the same question. Can you get "justice was done" to fit with "we should have excluded everyone"? Me neither.

"For a lot of it [the evidence], you had to draw the inference."

This is the most self-destructive sentence I have ever seen in a court case. Only a fool admits to having little hard evidence for a guilty judgement, let alone one involving such a large penalty and with a larger one threatened. If this were a real court under discussion, the police would be immediately pressing for a re-trial without the interested parties even having to ask first. It pretty much invalidates Max Mosley as a judge of fact in these sorts of cases.

The temptation for me to skip the assumptions that follow this sentence are therefore too strong to resist.

"If we'd done nothing, there would be the temptation to set out to acquire information from another team in any number of ways."

This probably seemed like a logical thing to say at the time (this interview appears to have taken place in late October or early November). However, since the McLaren/Renault mess has shown that only the impression of co-operation is necessary in order to evade a spying charge, then this statement suddenly looks a bit strange. If anything, events will encourage employees to spy, not discourage them. Just not necessarily as individuals.

"I think, and hope, they're paranoid about not doing anything"

How's that for a "Go back to being blobs. Blobs are easy" (Thief of Time by Terry Pratchett) mentality?

"If there are things of that kind... ...they've been quietly got rid of"

Proof that this interview was done before mid-November, when the McLaren/Renault case re-appeared (after a brief mention in the September court case).

"Just suppose the 2008 McLaren incorporates everything from the 2007 Ferrari... ...we've got to make sure... ...the 2008 McLaren doesn't incorporate and Ferrari intellectual property"

If (and after everything above, it's a big if) you still believe that McLaren's guilty judgement was legitimate, then this is a perfectly sensible inference. Max is completely right about the need to check that cars are not contaminated with other teams' IP. In fact, why don't they do this with every team at the appropriate moment in the season, to proactively check that this sort of stuff doesn't happen?

Would be a neat idea...

#f1 #lcmb #lcmb archive #max mosley #spygate #mclaren #fia #the then-fia president really does not come across very well in this one

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sunflwryu · 2 years ago

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tldr; i'm probably not going to write on this blog anymore.

i don't want to say that i won't completely because hey, maybe one day i'll feel like it, but this is what i wanted to say because i don't want to leave you all waiting...well, it's likely you've stopped after some due to my inactivity and that's okay and valid!

i became inactive here because i wasn't enjoying writing anymore, nor was i into k-pop that much, especially since i was into it a lot to help me cope with how terrible and lonely my life was and felt, and sometimes it still is. writing became somewhat of a hollow thing for me, and i tried so many times to write my drafts, to get the words out, but i couldn't. i would be taking things out of my control that had to do with my blog and writing to heart, i would get so frustrated and depressed at myself to the point that i put an incredible amount of pressure on myself to write something, anything, and when i didn't, my thoughts would spiral on top of what i already had to deal with irl.

so i left this tumblr behind for the sake of myself, hoping that maybe my passion and love for writing would reignite after a break, but it hasn't, not for this blog, only for the journal entries i wrote to cope with my daily life and mental health. i've never been much of a social media person anyway.

i feel like a completely different person than when i was last here. i'm not into k-pop anymore and i barely know what's going on in terms of news and drama but i'll tune into some songs and the older ones that give me nostalgia from simpler times. i've made friends who genuinely appreciate me and i've gotten better at setting my boundaries when it matters and taking care of myself. i have someone that genuinely likes me and always is there for me and tells me i'm beautiful everyday without fail. my skin has gotten better and less painful these days too.

there's a lot that's happened since my last post a few months ago, but what i can say is my life has improved, although there are things i'm still working on, including my ultimate goal i'm still reaching for of a happiness that isn't so fragile.

i want to focus on that goal now.

that's not to say that this blog doesn't mean that much to me, because it does. it helped me so much back then to cope with what horrible things i was dealing with, to write about a world that's not this one, to help others who maybe felt like me, to free my heart of the ideas i kept suppressed for a long time. it really built that foundation for me to grow as i am now.

so thank you so much for all the likes, all the reblogs, the comments, the moots, the readers, the followers, the anons, everyone who's ever set sights on this little blog of mine.

thank you for sticking with me along the way and helping me to make this blog a place that i'm proud to look back upon, to reread my works again and remember how much fun i had writing them. thank you for liking them and telling me your thoughts, thank you for giving them love because that made me happier amidst what i was going through at the time. i hope i was able to give you all comfort and entertainment through the works i enjoyed to write.

i'll pop in sometimes (no promises on the frequency of that), read some stuff, answer asks, make major update posts, but i don't think i'll be around too much. oh, and don’t worry, my blog will stay up, i’ll never personally take it down unless smthg else interferes. if you've read this far, congratulations! have a heart ♥

but seriously, thank you for everything. — yumi

—

p.s. credits to @argodeon for the banner/image! it's so beautiful!

#yumi speaks

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daphnefangirling · 2 years ago

Text

Don't You Forget About Me

For Bughead Appreciation Week - Day 5: Missing Moments

Summary: Amnesiac Betty reads her high school journal about her great love with Jughead with whom things ended badly when they were 18. She’s back in Riverdale and has meals delivered daily from Pops by a cute guy named Forsythe. They soon fall in love. Will she get her memories back and realize Juggie from the journals is Forsythe from Pops? What happens when she remembers what drove them apart in the first place? Was the amnesia a blessing in disguise making her forget all her past trauma? Will they make it this time or will history repeat itself?

Teaser under the cut (for the 2 people who said they wanted one: @middleagedresidentofriverdale & @forthehonoroflove)

Feb. 9, 2017 Dear Diary, new year, new me! Ok so the new year started over a month ago, but I decided to start this new diary even before I’d finished the last one so that all the Archie drama would stay in the old diary. This is a brand new start! I’m no longer the pathetic loser hoping to date her dum-dum neighbour! I am Elizabeth Anne Cooper, journalist! That’s right: I officially revived the Blue and Gold at school today! I even managed to rope in Juggie so I wouldn’t be doing it all alone. He and I will solve this mystery of who killed Jason, I just know it!

Betty smiles. She wants to remember this girl that she apparently used to be. The doctor said she should move back home, into a familiar setting that might help jog back her memory. Her mom apparently couldn’t be bothered to move back to Riverdale with her and help with her recovery, but she did give her the keys to the house they used to live in and where Betty spent most of her life before heading out to college. She wonders what kind of relationship she must have had with her mother where she wouldn’t come stay with her now. Yet another mystery to add to the ever-growing pile of what her life used to be before she got amnesia.

She puts down the journal and looks for the others that she would have written prior to this one. Maybe she’ll get a sense of who these people are? Archie, Juggie (that can’t be a real name, right?), Jason and most of all, herself. She doesn’t remember any of it and evidently, the universe doesn’t want her remembering because there are no other journals to be found. Maybe she took them with her and they burned in the fire along with the rest of her stuff and with her memories apparently. But why would she leave only this one behind? Maybe she’ll understand if she reads more diary entries.

But for now, she’s hungry and there’s nothing to eat in the house. She remembers her taxi driver saying something about a diner. She pulls out her phone and types: ‘Riverdale Diner’ Pop's Chock'lit Shoppe is the first result so, after quickly browsing their menu, she calls.

Man’s voice: “Pops Diner, how may I help you?”

“Hi, my name is Betty Cooper and I’ve just moved back into my childhood home at 111, Elm Street. I don’t have any food yet so I’d like to order delivery.”

Man on the phone, hesitantly: “Hum, yeah, sure thing Betty. What did you want?”

She orders the ‘Pops Special’ which she’d found online when looking for the phone number. The man assures her she’ll have her food in 30 minutes so she sits more comfortably on the couch to read a few more journal entries while she waits.

Feb. 24, 2017 Dear Diary, Juggie and I have been working on solving Jason’s murder every day. I really like spending time with him again. We sort of lost touch there for a while, but now it’s like we’ve fallen right back into our old rhythm and familiar habits. We went to Jason’s memorial this afternoon and Jughead looked really cute in his suit. I don’t know why I’m writing about it, it’s really not important… But also, I can’t stop thinking about it. What is wrong with me? Do I have a crush on Jughead? No, it’s gotta be the suit. Yeah, let’s go with that.

*Coming soon-ish to AO3*

#bughead appreciation week #bughead fanfiction #bughead fanfic #bughead fic #bughead appreciation week 2023 #my fic #my writing #don't you forget about me #missing moments #betty's diary

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stargazer-sims · 1 year ago

Text

Journal Entry #57 (part one)

Journal Entry #56 (part three) // STORY INDEX

Victor

So, uh... it's been a really long time.

I'm embarrassed to say, I actually had to check to see when either of us last recorded anything. Turns out, the last entry was Yuri's, and he posted it way back in the middle of March, the day I got my glasses.

It's the seventh of June today. Oops. Talk about major radio silence.

But, just because we haven't posted anything, that doesn't mean our lives haven't been eventful for the past three months. Yuri and I have had quite a lot going on, and maybe our lack of updates is a testament to that.

We were consumed by planning, packing, and preparing Yuri's immigration application for part of the time. Somehow I forgot how much work is involved in an international move despite having already done it before, a little over two years ago. This time is different because it's not just me. It's also Yuri and our dogs, and we've got the purchase of a house thrown into the mix as well, just to make things more complicated. Add that to my and Yuri's respective recovery, continuing drama with the extended family, and some much-needed relationship repair with a few of our friends, and you'll see we've got a very full life indeed.

I'm happy to report that I'm fully recovered from my accident. I was in physio for my arms up until the end of April, but the physical therapist said I could stop the day I told her I was able to lift my own body weight — all 86 kilograms of it — on the pull-up bar at work. I showed her the video Tomiko made of me doing it with just one arm, and the PT said it was obvious I could manage my own physical rehabilitation from that point.

As for the post-concussion symptoms, I'm no longer getting any headaches or random bouts of nausea, and I'm not nearly as light-sensitive now. The first day I was able to go up the mountain again, I had to wear ski goggles because the light reflecting off the snow made my eyes hurt. I really don't like wearing those, and I was glad when I was comfortable enough to take them off.

Yeah, my return to the slopes... that was an event. It probably deserves a whole entry of its own, but let’s just say Yuri, Sakura and Sakura's husband Takeshi made such a big production of it that it's not a day I'll soon forget.

Yuri said he had to be there, so I bundled him up in his warmest clothes, and then Takeshi and I wrapped him in a blanket and hauled him up the mountain on a rescue sled that Takeshi borrowed from Mountain Patrol. Sakura followed with our gear.

Takeshi situated Yuri in a good position to see everything, while Sakura and I got ready, and then it was time. We only did a few runs on one of the intermediate trails, but that was fine by me. I was admittedly nervous, and I didn't think I was ready to practice on the slalom course or the expert slope.

My first run was awful in my opinion, but I felt like I was getting my form and my courage back by the middle of the second one. When I pushed off for the third run, I felt the old, familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through my body and everything was as fluid and natural as if I'd never been away.

By the end of the third trip down the mountain, I was ready to stop for the day. It'd taken way more energy than I'd anticipated, and I was looking forward to going home for a hot bath and then maybe some cuddling and a nap with Yuri. He was exhausted too, mostly from waving his arms around and yelling himself hoarse, cheering me on.

Anyway, you guys all know that I could go on and on forever about snowboarding, so I'll stop here before this entry really does become all about that.

I should tell you about the relatively new thing in my life, which is my glasses. I wasn't sure I'd be okay with them at first, mostly because I didn't like having something constantly touching my face, but I got used to them pretty quickly and now I barely notice them at all. For the first couple of weeks, I wore them throughout the entire day, at the suggestion of the optometrist, and only took them off if I was driving or snowboarding. Now I just put them on if I'm doing something where I need to see clearly close up, like playing games, using the computer or reading.

I'm thrilled that Dr. Ishida was totally right when she said my ability to read was more about vision than intellect. Since getting my glasses, I'm going through books like crazy. I didn't realize how entertaining reading could be, but I guess that's because it's difficult to have a good time doing something when you can only do it for five minutes before you start to feel like your eyeballs might fall out from the strain. Now, I can read for hours at a time if I want to, and it's awesome. Did you know there's a genre of action novels? Kind of like action movies, but you read the story yourself and create the movie part of it in your imagination. It's great.

Yuri likes my newfound ability to read just as much as I do, I think. There's also a genre of historical novels which he happily introduced me to, and then he convinced me that I should read to him at bedtime. So, that became our thing up until I left. We'd curl up in bed together and either I'd read some of his current book to him, or he'd read some of mine to me.

It's been hard for us to read to each other lately, though, since I left Japan on the fifteenth of May. Mom and Julian let me stay with them for a few days until the transaction for our house closed on the eighteenth, and then I moved into our forever home. Except, it didn't feel like our forever home without Yuri there. If I thought leaving Yuri behind in Japan was painful, settling into that spacious house all alone might've been one of the most heartbreaking experiences I've had in recent memory.

Okay, I'm not technically alone. Sachiko the ghost is here, but sharing the place with her hasn't turned out to be as fun as I imagined.

For the first three or four days, I didn't see her at all, and when I finally did find her, she scared the crap out of me by making the tea machine levitate. Apparently, she was mad that I'd used her favourite mug for my tea.

Robert and Kim had left a few dishes in the house, including two mugs, and I'd used one of them because it was conveniently there. How was I supposed to know which one was Sachiko's? Up to that point, I didn't even know ghosts could drink tea, much less that they'd have a mug preference.

I think Sachiko and I are going to need time to get to know each other. She doesn’t seem to trust me, and after the tea machine incident, I’m kinda wary of her too.

The first night I spent in the house, I barely slept at all. Yuri and I chatted on FaceTime until his mother told him to get off his iPad and come have lunch, and then I was on my own. Noon for him was midnight for me, and there were a lot of hours between then and morning when I'd be able to talk to him again.

That was probably super confusing, wasn't it? I guess I should back up a bit and properly explain what's going on.

Just as Yuri and I both feared, he couldn't leave in the middle of his nutrition rehabilitation therapy. We found out that even with Dr. Kasongo's string-pulling to get him onto Dr. Kim's patient caseload, there still might be a months-long waiting time for him to see the doctor and the other professionals for the treatment he needs. He's already on the list, but since there's no way for him to transition seamlessly from one care provider to another, Dr. Kasongo suggested that it'd be better for him to finish his therapy and get his eating routine stabilized before he moves to another country. We agreed with her recommendation because he's been making such great progress, and we didn't want to derail it with a long interruption of his care.

It was a tough choice, but we ultimately decided that I’d travel home by myself to deal with the house closing, and so I could walk my mom down the aisle at her wedding. After the wedding, I'm planning to spend a week in Brindleton Bay with Grandpa Michael, and then I’ll return to Mt. Komorebi to be with Yuri until he's ready to travel. It isn't ideal and neither of us particularly likes it, but as they say, needs must.

The other half of the plan was for Yuri and the dogs to move in with his parents while I'm away. Neither his parents nor I felt comfortable with the idea of him staying alone, and since Mrs. Okamoto is on a leave of absence from work so she can devote her attention to taking care of baby Kinai, that means Yuri will never be without someone nearby if he needs anything. He complained about having to live with his parents temporarily, but I think he's secretly relieved to be close to his mother and to let her help look after him.

It's fascinating to me, how Yuri and I slipped so easily into our old habits that we had at the beginning of our relationship. We'd originally met online in November, not long after Yuri turned twenty and just before I turned twenty-one. His birthday is the twentieth of September and mine is the second of December, in case you may not recall. By February of the following year, we knew for sure that we were in love and wanted to be together forever, and I literally spent the next three years hoarding my money and learning Japanese so I could eventually travel there to be with him. Anyway, During that time, we talked on the phone or on FaceTime least twice every single day, and there were usually lots of texts and pictures and the occasional email or video exchanged in between.

Needless to say, scheduling our calls was important because of that pesky twelve-hour time difference between where I lived and where he lived. We used to talk at seven in the morning and seven at night. We took turns contacting each other, and to avoid confusion, each of us would call when it was morning in our time zone.

Morning calls were harder for me because I was going to college when we first met and then working once I'd graduated, and I could never talk too long as I was getting ready to go out for the day. Yuri's morning calls were better since he worked from home and could still get things done while chatting with me. Plus, it was evening for me then, so I had plenty of time.

Time isn't as much of an issue for us now, since neither of us are working. I resigned from my position at the fitness center in Kiyomatsu, and of course you already know Yuri is on medical leave until at least September. We still begin our video calls at seven o'clock, though. It's nice to have that consistency.

Something we've started doing in this new version of our long-distance relationship is eating together. I’ll usually have an evening snack while he has his breakfast, and sometimes he nibbles on a little something while watching me have mine.

Anyone viewing this might get the impression that we’ve become totally obsessed with food and eating over the last few months. That might be kinda true. but you gotta realize that for Yuri’s therapy to be effective, we always have to be mindful and use a lot of positive reinforcement around eating. So yeah, maybe we do talk about it a lot and maybe I do make a big deal of it even if he eats one small bite of solid food, but one bite without fear or stress is way better than being too anxious to eat at all, and I’d prefer to keep the forward momentum going.

When I first got here, Yuri was still having almost exclusively formula feeds at breakfast time. Then, one day last week when he called me, he appeared on screen with some sort of juice at the corner of his mouth, and when I asked him if he'd been eating, he proudly showed me the tiny bowl of pitted cherries he was snacking on.

"I like these," he said. "I ate seven of them so far."

A quick count revealed three left in the bowl, which he finished during our conversation. Ten cherries may not seem like a lot, but for Yuri, it's huge.

"Have you eaten anything else for breakfast?" I asked.

"Rice crackers with apricot jam, and Yuki let me try her cereal," he said, and then hastened to add. "I used my own spoon."

"You're doing great," I praised him. "Do you even know how proud I am of you right now?"

"Thank you."

"Are you having your formula too?" I asked.

He slid his chair back and lifted up the hem of his shirt so I could see the tube snaking out from under it. "I need the protein. But, guess what?"

"What?"

"I didn't have formula at lunch or dinner yesterday. I ate everything on my own. Oh, and I tried sparkling water."

"Did you like it?"

He wrinkled his nose cutely. "No."

"Better stick with regular water, then."

He nodded. "Mama's making salmon onigiri today. I'm going to try to eat a whole one."

"You like those," I recalled. "You've eaten a whole one before, so I know you can do it."

"Hopefully I've got room for it after my milkshake," he said.

I'll confess I was rendered momentarily speechless by that. I stared hard at the screen, wondering if I'd heard him correctly. "Your... milkshake?" I stammered after a second or two. "As in, actual milk and stuff? But, aren't you—

"Lactose intolerant?" Yuri said. "I'm not, actually."

"What?" I blurted.

"Trust me, I was shocked too."

"But, how...?"

"Remember, Dr. Kasongo scheduled me for all those food tolerance tests? You know, to see if I'm allergic to anything, or to see if I have low tolerance for gluten or sugar or... whatever?"

"Yeah," I said. "Mostly, I remember being stressed out because she scheduled it for after I left, and I couldn't go with you."

"I would've liked for you to be with me, but it was okay," he said. "Papa came with me, and it wasn't as scary as I imagined. We got the results yesterday."

"And you're really not lactose intolerant?"

"I'm really not. My nutritionist thinks it may have been a psychological intolerance more than a physical one."

"Meaning what, exactly? Like, dairy products made you feel sick because you convinced yourself they would?"

"Something like that," he said. "Mama says she thinks it might've been partially her fault. She says she tried to get me to drink milk and eat cheese when I was little, but it always gave me an upset stomach, so she eventually stopped trying. I guess we all just assumed I was lactose intolerant after that. Then, any time I had anything with milk in it, it was more my anxiety that was making me feel sick than my body's actual response to it."

"Huh," I said. "So... milkshakes?"

"Strawberry milkshakes. They're delicious and they're packed with calories." He beamed, clearly pleased with himself. "After my appointment yesterday afternoon, we all went out for American food.”

“That’s where you had the milkshake, I guess?”

“Mm-hmm. Mama and I shared a salad, but I tried one of Yuki’s French fries. Papa and Yuki both got milkshakes with their meal, and Yuki talked me into tasting that as well since we found out it wouldn't hurt me."

"And you were okay?"

"I was a little nervous afterwards and I thought I might be sick, but I kept telling myself not to panic. When I settled down, my stomach settled down too."

That was major progress. The old Yuri likely would’ve panicked, and he would’ve been throwing up and miserable for the rest of the day. Of course, he still might have had pain and an upset stomach regardless of what he ate or drank, but it made me wonder what percentage of his problems in the past were due to real digestive issues related to his illness and what percentage were caused by his severe anxiety around food.

He keeps telling me that he doesn’t like his psychologist and that he doesn’t think their sessions are doing any good, but I’m convinced somebody in that equation must be doing something right. Three months ago, Yuri wouldn’t have gotten within ten meters of American food, much less tried fries or a milkshake. Just the smell of deep-fried food would’ve been enough to make him nauseous back then.

Honestly, I don’t think he even realizes how far he’s come since he first started his nutrition rehab back in March.

"That's awesome," I said. "You’re doing amazing. And you’re having another go at milkshakes today?”

He nodded. "Papa bought strawberry ice cream. Did you know he knows how to make milkshakes at home?"

"I didn't know he knew how, but it's pretty easy anyway. Not much different than making a smoothie."

"Oh. So does that mean I could have extra strawberries in my strawberry milkshake? Or some other fruit?"

I laughed. "If you wanted to."

"When Papa comes home for lunch, I have to tell him." He looked excited. "This could be an adventure."

"Let me know how it goes."

He grinned at me. "I will."

I have no words to describe how happy it made me to see Yuri like that, and for the first time in a while, I let myself believe we were approaching something like a normal existence.

If he keeps going this way, he might be off his feeding tube entirely by the end of the summer. Then, we'll be able to come back here together and settle into the life we're both dreaming of.

I'm not naïve enough to think it'll be all smooth sailing after this, but I'm optimistic enough to believe we’re finally going to make it through the worst of the proverbial storm.

#writing #victorsworldadventures #victor nelson #yuri okamoto #tw chronic illness #stargazersims

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ollieinoue · 1 year ago

Text

CONSPIRACY JOURNAL

Ollie has gone back and logged any journal entries from his bullet journal from the time, as well as thoughts he has currently along with news articles, or other info people have given him, and texts sent to him (and relivant self paras/tasks).

start of school (08/23/22)

any significant journal entries

N/A

any follow up thoughts about the time

we knew nothing of g at the time

no greer tho but I figured she just was on some kinda vacation or whatever

homecoming (09/03/22)

any significant journal entries

all hail the king, baby

any follow up thoughts about the time

I mean obviously weird that Greer was voted hoco queen when we all knew she was not here and there were rumors that she was missing.

I remember being up on stage and the person announcing it was really weirded out and maybe a little hesitant idk I was really high.

Why didn’t the Dean or anyone in authority just like fucking ... not allow that to happen lmao wtf

I think this was the first message from G but I think we all thought at the time G = Greer

first interrogations (09/04/22)

any significant journal entries

fuck the police

IC TASK 001

any follow up thoughts about the time

fuck the police

fuck attempting to be sober

OGDEN STUDENT OFFICIALLY DECLARED AS A MISSING PERSON AS THE SEARCH FOR GREER MORRISON CONTINUES Greer Morrison, a junior at the prestigious Ogden College in New Hampshire, has officially been declared a missing persons case, with the FBI starting their search at the Ogden campus this weekend. While her contact with family and friends abated over the summer, sources say her apparent travel plans made that a likely possible. However, with classes having resumed last week and Greer not returning to her studies, the Morrison family reported her missing after the school contacted them.

first letters (09/18/22)

any significant journal entries

weird shit happening

[gm] u okay?

any follow up thoughts about the time

I think this is when things started to get really weird but it wasn’t like ... too overly weird ig.

Greer could have been just fucking with us still.

follow up interrogations (09/28/22)

any significant journal entries

fuck the police

any follow up thoughts about the time

idr anything coming of this beyond the nate/jesse drama tbh

a bunch of bullshit. the police are really out here giving us nothing.

power outage (10/01/22)

any significant journal entries

fun!

[gm] was that u babes???

self para

any follow up thoughts

I saw greer?

maybe

there is no fucking way that greer is just around and nobody has seen her. not now and not then. it doesn’t make any sense. but like ... idk bro.

after the outage (10/02/22)

any significant journal entries

wonder what was taken

[ap] did someone over hear me talking to alethea .........

whoops

any follow up thoughts

still wonder what the fuck was taken and what came of that????? was it G trying to find more dirt?

idk how or why G knew my conversation with alethea but they DID?? they sent me a text about it at the pool party. so they were there.

but they can’t be everywhere at once tho. hm.

casino night (10/08/22)

any significant journal entries

fun!

any follow up thoughts

idk I was just hanging out w my parents the whole time

gossip blast & G’s texts I did not care about at the time

among the glitz and glamour of the night…

some of you have been hitting the jackpot while others burn holes in their pockets, but the lack of greer morrison’s presence can’t help but hover over the events of the night. some of you are GAMBLING like you have nothing to lose, but you could not be more wrong. remember the blackout last week? at LEAST two of you were whispering in the dark hours of that night how easy it would be to break into rooms in the school. is that how you spent your night? i guess that would explain why the police notes went missing. now we know what all of you SAID – the truths, the lies, the secrets. what we can deduce from the stolen notes is that the police believe this was very likely a RUNAWAY case. and that’s all there is to it at this time. but even if our GOLDEN GIRL did leave on her own accord, there was a REASON… PERHAPS the reason has something to do with the fact that there wasn’t just one sneaky link greer had on the side….and they weren’t just men. and that certainly wasn’t the only secret she was keeping. she had secrets that were quite literally LIFE AND DEATH. or maybe she is just taking a moment…biding her time planning revenge on those of you who were trying to get her to do something, be it a break-up, an ultimatum, or maybe just not spilling the secret that you mistakenly shared. just remember, secrets don’t stay secrets for very long here. soon enough, we’ll all know why she left, so you may want to hold your CARDS close to your chests. xoxo ...

G: YOU ALL MIGHT HAVE PLAYED YOUR CARDS RIGHT TONIGHT….BUT I KNOW EVERYTHING YOU’VE DONE. G: AND DON’T WORRY…THAT INCLUDES EVERYTHING YOU DIDN’T TELL THE COPS. G: ACTUALLY, I GUESS THAT MEANS YOU SHOULD WORRY… XX

they were extra at the time and they’re still extra that’s all we know for sure

looks like they did take something but like what tho. what was found in the school or police records? hm.

greer’s birthday (10/25/22)

any significant journal entries

fun!

ok so who the fuck is g?

[gm] hope ur okay babes ....

any follow up thoughts

still fun lmao but how fucked up bro

I think this is when things started hitting me how fucked up things were and that this G person really was out here just to fuck with us for fun.

still no greer I think that’s probably the last time I thought maybe it was possible she might show up some time out of the blue

the texts I got sent blackmailing me into planning this party

g [1:27 AM]: you didn’t think the 25th was just gonna arrive with no celebrating, right? well…._i think you’re just the person to throw a party for me. even though we both know there’s a guest who won’t make it. besides me, that is. but you wouldn’t dare to tell anyone the _truth about that, would you? anyways! give it your best, babes. and don’t worry, you won’t be doing it alone. boathouse. 2 am. tomorrow. xx

no thank you texts smh

the texts I got at the party mentioning they knew the things I said to alethea during the blackout

g: you mentioned on the night of the blackout that it’d be easy to break into school buildings, and now we know that someone did just that. would you dare to prove it to us all that you know what you’re talking about? g: break into a school building and bring a little souvenir back from your heist to show off at the party. don’t worry, you’ll have an accomplice xx

halloween (10/31/22)

any significant journal entries

fun!

fucked up

what the fuck

there’s a lot to unpack here

IC task 002

any follow up thoughts

okay so I’m just going to log all the notes I’ve seen, and heard from other people here just to keep them all in one easy to find place.

there are likely more out there that I’ve not heard about I wonder how many

Mine

FLIGHT 1728, NYC > PORTUGAL, JUNE 5, 2022

Parker’s

FLIGHT 1920 PORTUGAL > NYC AUGUST 29, 2022

Monty’s

THERE ARE MORE LETTERS EXPLAINING EVERYTHING.

Link’s

after the accident, I’m trying to keep reminding myself of what [redacted] last august. [redacted] is dead. at least [redacted] and I didn’t kill anyone.

Milo’s

MAY 2022 god, it’s so fucked. [redacted] knows about the accident. obviously, but…[redacted] it wasn’t me driving, since i let [redacted] drive that night.

Jesse’s

MAY 2022 this week has been the fucking worst. first [redacted], now [redacted]? motherfuckers are jealous and [redacted]. i can’t do it anymore. i just can’t.

IMPORTANT NOTES

Link has Milo’s little journal piece

Link promised he wouldn’t tell anybody about the one he has. Hopefully.

I showed Mari pictures of the ones I remembered to take pictures of (Mine, and Milo’s, and Parker’s) and she Milo’s was (probably) from Greer’s journal.

fake G (early-mid nov)

any significant journal entries

I hate technology

computers are dumb

oh I think I found sm

SELF PARA

like just no it doesn’t make sense

[mn] ?????

[mn] okay so the plan is ... just go ask and he’ll say no and it’ll be normal

[mn] prick

[mn] I hate him

[mn] I hope his life gets ruined

[mn] I hate him

[mn] I should just tell everyone. like I won’t but I should.

it still feels wrong tho right?

but how could it be wrong tho?

fuck

I hate technology

any follow up thoughts

I just need to know HOW

did G hire people to do all this?

like there’s no way they just ... out did me on this right? I looked SO FUCKING HARD.

I worked SO FUCKING HARD

I checked SO MANY TIMES

What the fuck happened? What did I do wrong?

Fuck G

also I still hate technology

second letters (11/27/22)

N/A (ollie does not know about any of these but just to keep track of all plot events I’m adding it in here)

time capsule leaks (12/12/22)

any significant journal entries

IC TASK 003

[g-] oh you bitch

fuck me

no it’s fine it’s cool just be normal it’ll be fine.

any follow up thoughts

not really tbh

G is a bitch

Honestly the fact that the news did not pick up on the fact that nude videos of ppl were leaked FROM A SCHOOL is kinda shitty

bet you anything the dean has done everything he could to cover it up

if anything this seemed petty as hell g what gives????????

post time capsule leaks (12/14/22)-(12/16/22)

any significant journal entries

[kk] there’s no way kit was juicing lmao what???

[kk] monty didn’t know about this either??? a little offensive bro

fuck the police

kinda shitty the cops are taking credit for the information parker & I gave them lmao

cops seem to at the moment trust me so at least I don’t have to worry about that

IC TASK 004

[g-] fuck off bitch

any follow up thoughts

texts from G I was sent immediately after the interrogation

g: well, it looks like the cops sure trust you. let’s not get into the merits of whether or not they should, and instead let’s figure if i should. or if greer morrison should. g: did greer ever mention wanting to go to the cops over anything? g: think…stalkers, fights, issues with drugs. anything like that ring a bell? g: think about it. even try to figure it out. what you do with that info? well, i guess that’ll let us know if the cops were right for believing what you said.

I still haven’t heard anything about any of this

idk dude

fuck G

new years eve (01/01/23)

any significant journal entries

( a full journal entry written after getting home from from the trip )

Everything is so fucked up. I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m losing my mind and that everything just keeps spiraling more and more out of control and I can’t do anything to stop it. Every single day gets worse. I feel like I’m suffocating underneath everything. I literally feel like I cannot breathe. I can’t sleep, I haven’t been able to sleep in weeks. I feel like I’m on the cusp of a panic attack every single moment of every single day. And now this. I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about seeing Penny’s dead body and I don’t even know if that was her fucking dead body or not but does it matter at this point? And that girl was covered in so much blood. And nobody will tell us anything going on. All I’m hearing on the news is that it was an accident. But fuck that. What the fuck are they going to say happened she tripped and fell and all of her blood left her body? Was she attacked by a wild animal and nobody heard anything. Me and Milo weren’t even that far away!

It makes me feel sick every single time I think about it. Like there is this horrible gnawing sensation in my stomach that keeps growing and growing and soon I’ll just be like nothing. I’ll be empty. And what happens then? How the fuck are any of us supposed to deal with this? My sanity is like being held on by a thread, and most of that weight is being carried by Monty right now, and that’s so fucking unfair of me. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel like I’m not a constant burden. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel like I’m not just dragging him down every single time we talk. But I ... I need him. And I love him. And he knows now. Everything. Most things. And he’s still here and I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that.

Anyway. I feel like giving up on all of this bullshit. I’ve tried so hard ... and come so far ... and in the end it never even mattered. lmao I’m sorry... I’m serious though. But then there is the other hand where like ... Have I ever been able to let something go? Have I ever known when to stop? I’m so fucking tired. It’s constant. What the fuck am I supposed to do about this? By why is that on any of us?

any follow up thoughts

lmao yikes

after getting back to school Link told me when he and Mari went to find her dad at the staff chalet nobody was there. and what the fuck is that even supposed to mean?? idfk

penny’s memorial (01/22/23)

any significant journal entries

rip penny the dnd group was better without you but the school is not

g implied what happened to penny was not accident, that it had something to do with secrets she knew. like come on ... what the fuck

any follow up thoughts

the text G sent

G: IT’S NOT ACCIDENT THAT THIS IS WHAT PENNY’S SECRETS BOUGHT HER G: NOW IT’S TIME TO FIND OUT WHAT YOURS ARE WORTH

any follow up????? idk .....

some news (02/02/23)

any significant journal entries

embarrassing that the news is days behind the leaks we’re getting

penny knew why greer left OR did she know who was responsible for it

the dean????????

any follow up thoughts

the article

UPDATE IN SEARCH FOR MISSING OGDEN COLLEGE STUDENT Though it has been months of the investigation team believing that Greer Morrison fled from Ogden College willingly, recent updates have led to the belief that she may have been chased off, and that there are people out there who know why. In fact, an unnamed source has reported that they overheard the student who came to her tragic demise on a school trip, Penelope Klein, saying that she knew why Greer Morrison left only shortly before her death. In addition an anonymous source provided information about flights she may have taken out of the country last spring, though the flight returning to the states has no proof of her actually being on it. This lead has been investigation, and it has returned no further information about Greer’s whereabouts. We have also learned that the time capsule video of Greer had not been kept in the files where the rest of the students were when officers originally looked, and when leaked, it contained damning information on several students - like the allegation of her then boyfriend using steroids. This claim was corroborated when his room was searched previously this semester, leading to his expulsion. With all of this information coming to light, it has been confirmed Penelope Klein’s death is being investigated as a murder. Greer Morrison is still considered missing, and she may be aware of sensitive information. Any additional leads will be reported.

I still think it was the dean

heartbreaker social (02/17/23)

any significant journal entries

fuck g

what was the point of that?

fucking bitch

any follow up thoughts

how the fuck did g see our valentines?? so they were there or someone was there who was doing this for them.

G’s valentine to me

roses are red, lonely hearts are blue give me a dirty little secret and maybe i'll give you a clue it doesn't have to be yours, but it should be good and if you can't deliver....i could

My texts in response

( redacted )

the heart of the matter (03/18/23)

any significant journal entries

IC TASK 005

jesse’s dad sucks

I’m fucking onto you and the fucking dean

truly do not trust a single thing that comes out of either of these men’s mouths

any follow up thoughts

nothing new

just the same growing feeling

house of mirrors (04/05/23) - (04/08/23)

any significant journal entries

SELF PARA

I’m starting to think I’m just being gaslit tbh

am I crazy? ... I might be

any follow up thoughts

no thoughts brain empty

#self para .#kinda???#ollie is a the dean is g truther sorry #warning this is pretty long because there's been a lot of events!!#lmao worth it?? idk

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paunchsalazar · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! I just saw ur year-end reading post and congrats on completing so many this year! I read some books that you recommended in a post a while ago and I loved them so I was wondering if you had any favorites from this year? Happy new year🎉

waaa thank you!!!

I would say these were my top 10, just in terms of my own personal enjoyment!! this time with elevator pitch descriptions...

Oh William! by Elizabeth Strout

A story told by Lucy Barton, a retirement -age writer, and her first husband, William. It is about them as much as it is everyone they know…. I think it is about important people in our lives and what it means to know anyone at any given moment.

She has a very distinct voice. Very readable and lived in.. she has written as this character many times, this one was on the Booker shortlist.

Notes of a Crocodile by Qiu Miaojin

A coming of age of sorts, set in late 80’s Taipei and told by an unnamed lesbian narrator. It covers her years at university - she makes new friends, cuts off and reconnects with her first love, gets mixed in with the drama of those around her, and figures herself out a little more along the way.

written in vignettes, diary entries, exegesis, and scene descriptions - JUMP CUT TO - particularly enjoyed the last move and haven’

Ouran High School Host Club by Bisco Hatori (all the way through, but particularly the volumes 9-18!)

I could go on... but if you've already seen the show I still really really really really worth reading all the way to the end!! It's a love story that sneaks up on the reader along with our protagonist, but above all it's about friendship... trying new things, putting yourself out there, and taking the time to get to know people... even annoying rich boys!

Lie to Me by Philippe Besson

A chance encounter with a man who looks just like his first love sends a successful writer back twenty some years as he recalls falling in love with another boy in his last year of high school.

This books plays with memoir and fiction, how much of this is a writer’s fancy? How much is nostalgia? How much of it is a lie?

Uncomfortably Happily by Yeon-sik Hong

An autobiographical comic about a young couple that moves to the countryside to get away from life in the city. It's a struggle, but they have each other to keep from going stir crazy and to stay warm for the winter. Really funny creative cartooning, I also love his Umma's Table (about moving away from his aging parents and the place his mother's cooking holds in his life, made me cry)

Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer

Non-fiction - a mix of ecology and personal experience, talking about indigenous people and nature, working together rather than against it, and using our resources in healthier, better-rounded ways

The Vampire Lestat by Anne Rice

The sequel to Interview with the Vampire - this time Lestat steals the mic and tells the story of his life. It’s as indulgent and dramatic and beautiful as he is... and oddly charming? Rice has a way of painting a picture so detailed that it comes alive!

M Train by Patti Smith

An ambling sort of book, writing about not knowing what to write, sitting in coffee shops, traveling around the world... a thoughtful little book, not quite a memoir, not quite a journal... I don't know what to call it! But it made me sit and think...

Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner

A memoir about Zauner's relationship with her mother and grieving her after she dies from cancer in her daughter's 25th year.

No Home by Wanan (ongoing)

please read this webtoon!!!! Haejoon Goh has been misunderstood his whole life, known as the son of the lady who sees ghosts, when his mother passes away, he moves into the school's worn down dormitory - the only other inhabitant, the kid that stole his money and wound up putting him in the hospital... it's about misunderstandings and incomplete impressions, loneliness and companionship... made me laugh, made me weep, maybe one of the best comic reading experiences I've had ever?

honorable mentions

Mr. Palomar by Italo Calvino

Witch Hat Atelier by Kamome Shirahama

Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice

Talk to My Back by Yamada Murasaki, translated by Ryan Holmberg

Astral Season, Beastly Season by Tahi Saihate, translated by Kalau Almony

Skip and Loafer by Misaki Takamatsu

Breast and Eggs by Mieko Kawakami

#at least for this year!!!#idk!! if there is a particular genre/type you are looking for I can try to think of some!! of course there are so many books in the world..

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pamwritessometimes · 3 days ago

Text

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

Girl, I feel you! 😭

Okay, fangirl mode off for a second… I just KNEW she was going to get caught with the journal, and I just KNEW he’d take it badly. But oh my gosh, when she read through John’s diary entries and started tearing up, I was right there with her… no joke, I teared up too. 🥹 Even when I realized toward the end that those were excerpts from the official John’s Journal, it didn’t take away from how beautifully you wove them into the story.

I had a feeling those quiet moments wouldn’t last before the drama kicked in, but that moment felt so pivotal, like a real turning point in them opening up to each other even more. Brilliant chapter! 💕

PS: This part tho 🥵🔥

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Against the Wind - Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer”), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart.

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.”

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.”

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin.

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear?

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life.

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you.

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest.

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you.

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore.

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze.

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says.

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 3

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jodilin65 · 8 years ago

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MONDAY, OCTOBER 31, 2016 Again this weight thing is really weird. I lost that half a pound that I gained yet I ate like a pig yesterday. I almost always binge on weekends. My only exercise was walking around Walmart.

Yesterday morning was chilly and clear and then the wind picked up and by lunchtime, it started raining. This went on for a couple of hours. It was nice to hear the sound of rain instead of motorcycles, chainsaws, blowers and mowers.

Last night I dreamed we moved from someplace that didn’t look like this. I ended up regretting it and I wanted to try to move back because I wanted to stick with what was familiar to me.

Then I dreamed I was back in the place and in the bedroom, which was long and narrow. A long dresser I had gotten wherever we started to move to stood against one wall while a tall dresser we’d had for years was back in its usual spot against another wall.

I looked at the thermometer and saw that it was 74° outside and regretted not going swimming the day before when it was much hotter.

Then I took a notebook out of a drawer and walked into our huge living room which didn’t look like it really does and that seemed to only have a couch in it. I reached up and turned on this weird-looking ceiling fan and then sat down on the couch. I was going to write the names of my favorite incense fragrances in the notebook.

Someone in Utah has taken a 2-hour interest in my journal. I wonder if it’s connected to the Ms. That would be the stormin’ Mormons who lived next to us from 1993 to 1996 in Phoenix. I came across their name when screening entries for my monthly bio project and decided to let them know how crazy their brats drove me in Phoenix, then condemned them for hating gays.

The mother replied saying that he drove them crazy too, was autistic, was gay, is now a responsible 26-year-old, and she couldn’t understand my gay reference.

Right away I felt bad for ranking on her and assuming that all Mormons hated gays.

She then went to friends only. I was kind of surprised that someone like her would not only be public in the first place but an apparent Facebook addict who allowed anyone to comment on her posts.

I apologized to her and told her that I actually missed them after they moved because of how much worse the welfare bums that took their place were.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 30, 2016 Kate Jackson turned 67 yesterday. Jaclyn Smith recently turned 70 and so I thought she was turned 70 this year as well.

I’ve been hearing less and less from Tammy and sometimes I wonder if it’s personal. It’s okay if it is, though, as I know that less interaction means less potential for drama.

I still like my hot pink vibe (it’s good for feet too), but once again my appetite has gone to hell.

I discovered one way to pull up photographs of people on Facebook unable to be found on their accounts is to do a search for their name, plus the word photos. That way, if anyone has tagged them in a public photo, it will show up.

I searched for Stacey’s sister Lisa. Lisa’s profile picture is taken from the side and it gives you the impression that she’s pretty good-looking. As it turns out, however, once I found a front-face shot of hers, I could see that she was ugly as fuck. She’s not as thin as Stacey but she’s not that big. Her sister Marcy is pretty big, though. Stacey is clearly the best-looking of the three.

Tom and I were discussing the possibility of karma, and the only thing that shoots holes in that theory, just like population fluctuations shoots holes in the reincarnation theory, is the two-year-old who dies of cancer. I mean what could they possibly have done to deserve it?

Yesterday I finished my book at 61292 words! After a MASSIVE editing job, it will probably come to 62K - 63K words.

Even though Fitbit says I was “under the zone” calorie-wise for yesterday, I’m up half a pound today. Tom says you can’t weigh yourself on a daily basis. I say Fitbit can’t accurately estimate the pitiful calorie burn for one with Hashimoto’s.

Last night I dreamed of winning $2000 worth of makeup. I don’t see it as a sign of anything extraordinarily good to come, however, since I’ve had very few dream premonitions in quite a while now. It was still better than being chased by flying spiders.

I also had a dream we were moving and that I was telling someone that this park/house was a mistake. It’s noisier than I would like but I would never consider it a mistake. Not leaving Arizona in 1999 and moving to Oregon… that might be a mistake. Maybe even coming to this state. But if we hadn’t, as I told Stacey, we never would have met.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 28, 2016 Today I’m achy from my hips to my knees, but life is otherwise good. It’s raining and it will rain tomorrow too, which always keeps things quieter around here. Even yesterday was quieter.

I tried to get Tom to address his dental issues with his doctor after having his 6-month checkup in case he needed antibiotics, but sure enough, he didn’t. He said his doctor would only tell him to see a dentist anyway. Then he teased me about jinxing him because his tooth was horrible afterward. I still think it’s going to come and go till he deals with it.

He might’ve had a point in saying that I would sleep better if I made sure I didn’t get into bed too early and waited until I was ready to fall asleep. I’ve been having to push my schedule for my upcoming appointments, and by not getting into bed until I’m really tired, I do seem to be sleeping better and waking up less often, although that’s not what Fitbit says. Fitbit says I was awake 4 times and restless 30 times. Really? I only remember waking up twice (once to pee), but as I’ve learned, you can’t always go by numbers. You have to go by how you feel. A TSH of 3 may be perfect for most people, but it’s hyper for me, which means the anxiety from hell, rapid weight loss, rapid HR, and plenty of diarrhea. Waiting until I’m ready to drop before I get into bed means better sleep for me and more energy the next day. :-)

They have these new period panties that are supposed to replace pads and tampons and seem really interesting. I was tempted to try a pair, but at $40 apiece I decided I was too close to menopause for it to be worth it.

I’m now on season five of seven of PLL. You can tell it’s from modern times and not the 90s because it isn’t chock-full of pregnancy and childbirth. The characters and the topics may be very entertaining but they’re not very realistic. The stars of the show are in high school yet they’re too mature, intelligent, reliable and caring. Not even older people would be that selfless and forgiving. And no one ever interrupts or talks over anyone when they all get together, too. If I can’t usually get a word in edgewise talking to just one other person, how could you talk one at a time with so many others?

Also, their tormentor who bullies them for years isn’t very realistic because they can’t be everywhere at once and know as much as they do, which is pretty much everything. It’s still a very entertaining show, like I said.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 26, 2016 Since I was asleep when Tom got home and went to sleep himself, he left an email saying everything went well at the doctor’s but that he’s up 5 pounds. In other words, he’s going to continue to ignore his teeth, which really need to be dealt with, phobia or not.

Mine is still up a few pounds and has basically become me and a part of me because of how long I let it hang on. The longer it’s left on, the more the body gets used to it. I realize I’ve got to really fight to get it down at least a little for the sake of my TSH and not just my mobility. If my TSH can go down with weight loss, then couldn’t this extra weight push it up? It only makes sense when you think about it and I am NOT going to 88s.

I got a text from my dentist saying to call and schedule something sooner on the calendar, or something to that effect. I texted back saying that I wasn’t scheduled until March, so was there some reason I needed to come in sooner?

I also received an email about the first one getting lunch on them that came in at lunchtime or something like that today. So they’re probably just spamming me. Shame on them, too.

We’re going to have to change priorities as far as the next expensive upgrade goes and soundproof my bedroom windows. There are now way too many motorcycles in this fucking park, way too close to the house. What we’re getting today would’ve been like Jesse roaring right by the trailer. They’re tearing in and out of here as early as 6am and I can hear the fucking things loud and clear even with the sound machine AND an earplug. By 11am I’d already heard them four times.

It’s just fucking ridiculous. Especially when I know these things can be made softer. Oh, the things people do and the money they’ll spend just to get attention from anybody and everybody. Are there that many people who feel neglected and like they haven’t gotten enough attention recognition in life that they have to force it on others? Whether it’s a power trip or a cry for acknowledgment, it really pisses me off when people force such noise on me. I don’t do it to others. I’m just sick of this shit and how there’s always one thing after another no matter where we go. Just when I think how it should be quieter now that the contractor is gone, we’ve got more motorcycles to deal with. If they were suddenly re-banned, as they should be, then more people would break out their saws and hammers. It’s like I’m always meant to listen to something. I wish the US would adopt Germany’s new Quiet Sunday law where loud sounds/machinery aren’t allowed on Sundays.

The motorcycle next to Jim usually only goes out on weekends. That cock takes a white pickup to work. The one with the orange motorcycle on the other side of the circle, however, is clearly not working. Like most people, they are in and out three or four times a day, and there’s only going to be more and more of them popping up around here, and we’re still going to be on what… the third busiest street in the park that’s right off of the busiest? Even if everybody complained… the park has already made up its mind and is going to do what they’re going to do no matter what.

I also saw a cock on a white motorcycle go slowly down the street looking at a piece of paper. They tore out of here a minute later, so they’re obviously looking to buy one of the houses for sale. Even if they weren’t, every few households have them, so it’s logical to assume that one or two out of the four houses is going to have one, and they obviously prefer the loudest kind here. So instead of the dryer or the stove, I want to get those windows done. If Tom wants to cut the expense to just one window instead of two, we can always swap bedrooms.

I’m surprised Arizona wasn’t a big motorcycle state. If they can ride in the cold (and it was really chilly in the low to mid-50s this morning just walking, so I was amazed anyone could go riding) I would think they would certainly be able to handle the heat. I almost wrote off Florida because of them and decided we should just shoot over the border into Nevada when he retires. There are way too many of them here and in Florida and they’re almost as bad as loud car stereos with their thumping bass that can be heard a million miles away.

On the bright side, the ridiculous noise levels despite living with old people are the worst of my problems and my only problem. Everything else is going well. I’ve had fewer earaches, and my hip is doing better.

The only thing I remember for dreams seems to be something about chatting with Jenny C and resuming our so-called friendship. I definitely wouldn’t have any desire to do that even if she lived right down the street. No hard feelings after nearly 30 years, just no desire to associate with her. Or Emily. Or even Jessie since I stopped hearing from her and deleted her on Facebook some time ago.

I don’t know if there’s something about me personally that loses people like I have or if it’s simply just a part of life, but I’m not about to change who and what I am either. I’d rather be myself and lose people and have only a few good friends, rather than be more like the rest of the world and meet their standards just to hang onto people more easily and acquire more friends.

Jenny dumped me because I had too many more problems than she could handle. I was still very young and had a lot of shit to work through. She left me to have to go it alone until I met Andy. Andy wasn’t always high on sensitivity and support, but he was there… until I cut ties with him because I couldn’t tolerate his negativity (I know in his mind he felt he was only being honest) or his arrogant, judgmental, and annoying ways.

Emily and I basically just drifted apart, though she may have been uncomfortable with my coming out. Again… no problem. Baring our true selves shows us just who our true friends are and who they aren’t. Some are proud of me for being me, others criticize it, not that I care. I mean I’m still going to do what I’m going to do. But yeah, if you don’t like one that can be blunt, liberal and a bit eccentric, then I’m not the friend for you. I don’t believe in invisible fantasies people call God. I don’t make excuses for my mother’s abuse because it’s “kind” or “correct” by saying she “did the best she could” or that she “must have loved me deep down.” I just don’t sugarcoat things is what I’m saying.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 25, 2016 To say that this October has been much better than last October is the understatement of the century. At this time last year, I was making my final descent into hell as my endo fine-tuned my thyroid meds.

But is something up there trying to keep me from enjoying walking and jogging around the park? Seriously, it really truly does seem like it’s been one thing after another for over two years now. First it’s my anxiety. Then I have hot flashes to worry about, and now I’ve got various aches and pains holding me back. It’s mostly my right hip. I don’t know if it’s the sciatic nerve as Tom suggested, arthritis, or something else. I just get tired of one thing after another keeping me from enjoying exercising outdoors more often. I don’t mind watching my shows while on my skier, but being outdoors in the fresh air is always nicer. Of course the weather can be an issue, too. I don’t want to be out running at 100° anymore than I want to at 30°.

It just seems too coincidental, though. If I had issues for a few months or maybe even a year, that’d be one thing. But I’m really starting to feel like something is seriously trying to choke back my outdoor exercise, and this is coming from an agnostic who tends to lean more toward atheism.

So if there is something trying to cut my outdoor activity down, then why? Is it protection or punishment? I can’t imagine anything trying to protect me from anything in a gated adult community. The odds of being abducted, robbed or raped or anything like that here is next to nil. I don’t carry a purse and not many perverts are going to be interested in one my age. Besides, this isn’t the place to scout for victims anyway.

So ruling the protection thing out, since criminal activity is unlikely as is a pack of wolves or a giant grizzly bear, then am I being picked on for some reason? If so, I can’t imagine why. Whose ass did I ever prevent from enjoying the great outdoors?

Eh, I gotta assume – and hope – that I’ll finally stop “happening” to have one thing after another soon enough. Can’t help but wonder… if I vowed to quit outdoor working out altogether and just do it at home, would I have fewer problems?

I skied for about 15 minutes and was going to do 3 rounds around the circle to bring it to a half-hour, but sure enough, I only made one round before it started raining. We’re in for a few days of rain this week except for tomorrow.

Anyway, whether it’s happenstance or something determined to keep my outdoor activity to a minimum, I’ve been doing well overall. No anxiety. No recent earaches.

Later…

Although Pretty Little Liars is a work of fiction, “Aria” and “Mr. Fitz” are a reminder that those forbidden relationships really do happen, when I remember Johnson and think of Stacey, even though we didn’t actually do anything. At least not yet anyway. I still think that after a year, it’s not considered unethical. If that’s what I read is the case for MDers, then I would think it would be the same for PhDers.

I wonder though… has she ever met with any other former patients? It doesn’t matter either way. I’m just curious. After something like 27 years, it’s just hard to believe I could be the first that she’s liked in the way she likes me.

This is strictly a guess, but if she ever planned to call me if I didn’t call her, I’m guessing it would’ve been towards the spring or summer. I’m still going to be her Valentine's phone call, though. :-)

Karen in Texas suggested that my metabolic issues could make me more sensitive to pain. I mentioned it to Tom and he said it makes sense when you really think about it. It might be why my endo asked me about joint and muscle pain when I last saw her in May. My knees and ankles used to bother me before I began treatment.

My hip pain is definitely fueled by activity. It doesn’t act up just for shits and giggles. Yesterday I did 15 minutes on the skier and the pain was minimal. After that round I made around the circle, however, it became very stiff and sore. Makes me wonder how I managed to twirl around on stage all night long, half-naked on heels, 25 years ago. Times really do change, LOL. All I remember from those days are sore feet. I was sore overall after my first day, but then my body quickly got used to it. Unless Stacey would ever like a private little dance… my dancing shoes have long since been hung up.

Tom and I are going out walking before work but it will only be for about 20 minutes, so that means a duck walk as opposed to an office walk, or an RV walk, or a perimeter walk. OMG, I think a perimeter walk, which is just over 2 miles, would damn near kill me.

Her suggestion explains why Bob and Jim can walk for a mile or two every single day while in their late 80s. But here I am having barely cracked my 50s and wondering what condition I’m going to be in in another 20 years. Assuming I’m even alive, that is. I still have a chance of an instant extinction thanks to a heart attack or a stroke since that shit runs rampant in my family. Other than asthma and allergies, I really didn’t expect to get any additional diseases or conditions until I was over 70, but I guess one can never know. Almost anything can hit us at any time.

I got up to pee a few hours after I crashed and I made a mental note to remember the dreams I’d had thus far. Yet as is often the case these days, once I woke up for good, I couldn’t remember a thing.

My incontinent little fur babies are gonna want to come out soon, run around, play chase, play hide and seek, and mark the same damn “territories” that have already been marked god knows how many times. Damn right when I say the next place is only going to have carpet in the bedrooms! If you’re a rat, then everything must be chewed on and pissed on as far as you’re concerned.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 22, 2016 Enjoying a mocha cappuccino sucker now. Got it at Bed, Bath & Beyond along with a large Hawaiian Lei bath bomb, a set of 5 smaller Raspberry Cream bath bombs, a “diamond” studded rainbow headband most people my age wouldn’t touch, and a couple of boxes of K-cups.

Then we went to Walgreens for junk food and to get my passport photo taken. As I’ve heard many say, we don’t realize just how big we are till we see pictures of ourselves. I am both HUGE and old-looking.

I once managed to give up cigarettes, so maybe I can kick my junk food addiction soon, too. I really binge my weekends away. Since I plan to once again stick to low to no-cholesterol foods beginning in November in preparation for my December labs, maybe that’s when I’ll throw myself on a diet. I won’t lose more than a few pounds being that I’m still an older woman with a bum thyroid, but I’ll be healthier. Although I’m still smart enough to recognize how shitty I look, I wish I could be as obsessed with my appearance as I was in my teens and 20s because that’d probably help motivate me to eat healthier foods and less of them, too. But you know how it is… the older we get the less we care about looks, especially if we’ve got someone who will always love us no matter what.

Anyway, this will be my last week of beef, eggs, and foods like that. Then I’ll just hope for the best as far as both my thyroid and cholesterol numbers go and hope my doctors don’t read this and see how naughty I am between labs, haha.

No, Doc A, I will not take more levothyroxine and I will not let you statin me either. Statins didn’t stop Tammy from having a heart attack, and I really like being 99% anxiety-free, too.

I started to overheat in my sleep and get a beatathon going, but only for a minute. That’s what I get for not sleeping with the fan on and doubling the blanket in this rather extended summer. Yeah, every time I think the cold is here to stay, we have a warm spell. I like it even though it brings out the motorcycles.

Could’ve sworn a loud bang woke me up, too. I could’ve been dreaming, but more than likely some large vehicle hit the speed bump in back too hard. Next house is gonna be on a less-traveled street for damn sure.

I had two dreams that took place in our Maricopa house. In one I was commenting to Tom on just how huge the living room was (even though it looked a bit different) as he sat in a room just off of it, and how I wanted to add more décor to the walls.

Then in another dream there we were supposed to have dangerously high records of heat and humidity. I looked out the front window into the darkness and saw taillights blinking on a few cars that had stopped nearby.

Then I was in some fancy spa or salon in the middle of the night, wandering around with a bag of beauty supplies. People in white coats worked in small rooms with ambient lighting. The place was open 24/7 and they were doing a beauty treatment of some kind on me that was supposed to take 4 hours. The procedure took just 2 hours, though, and then I was free to leave.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 21, 2016 Diets leave me hungry. Exercise leaves me hurting. Is something trying to tell me something? My hip’s been screaming at me lately, though it’s an “easy suffering” compared to other things I’ve gone through. I don’t feel it sitting or lying down, but only when I’m standing. Tom wonders if it’s my sciatic nerve. Regardless, I’m taking the day off from exercise, but I’m still doing household chores. The last load of laundry is in the dryer now.

Although I slept late, it’s been surprisingly quiet for such a lovely day. It’s 74° out there, so where are all the motorcycles? I don’t even hear any landscaping.

Once they turned the water back on after four hours yesterday I noticed that it was clearer. So I can once again take a bath if I want to. I’m not nearly as big on baths as I am on showers, but I really like those bath bombs because of how much they help my dry skin. Symptoms of hypothyroidism simply don’t go away with treatment. You still have dry skin and hair and you still can’t lose weight, though I suppose age is a factor as well. I’ve had dry skin since my early 30s, and I abuse my hair with dye and straightening brushes.

Ran into Jim at the mailbox. He asked how I was and said to say hello to Tom who he sees waving to him in the morning when he’s out walking and he’s leaving for work.

I don’t understand what’s up with my computer at times. When I first got up there were some sites I wasn’t able to access, like Twitter, Netflix and Pinterest. I suspected an issue with Flash, but then I was suddenly able to access them again.

They really need to create diapers for rats. I love these guys, but I am really sick of the trail of piss they leave on just about everything, including me. How many times do they have to mark me in order to be considered part of their “territory?”

Later…

So Stacey finally added her son on Facebook. Wonder if she’s looked me up there? Still wish I knew what she was thinking. Does she think of me daily, too? Does she hope I’ll call her? Would she call me if I didn’t? Does she hope to see me at her office again? Does she hope to see me outside of her office? Does she not care if she ever sees me again anywhere?

If she has it in mind to call me if she doesn’t hear from me first, when will she call? If she hopes to see me outside of her office… when will this happen, where will we go, and what will we do?

The only thing I’m sure of is that yes, we will talk someday whether I need to see her in her office or not because if I don’t hear from her by Valentine’s Day, she’ll hear from me. What I’m not sure of is if we’ll keep in touch by phone, online, or ever see each other again in person (in or out of her office). I can’t wait to finally find out the answers to these questions, even if I think I already know them.

Thank you, Mac Dictation, for interpreting my book character as living in a beachside “condom” rather than a beachside “condo.” LOL

My online problems that magically fixed themselves were a DYN attack rather than something being wrong on my end. Fucking assholes. I can’t believe these people could take down so many sites in one day. Big sites.

Still finishing up my book and making preparations for this year’s NaNoWriMo. I still feel a tinge of sadness every time NaNoWriMo comes around because I no longer have Aly doing it with me to keep each other motivated. I’m open to new writing buddies if anyone wants one. :)

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 20, 2016 While I’m just as annoyed with things around here, I feel much better today. I slept better last night. Between the tryptophan in the chicken I ate, a couple of ibuprofen for an earache, and then sugar crashing from the candy bar I stupidly had for dessert, I fell asleep earlier than expected. I couldn’t get myself into a deep enough sleep, however, so when I got up to pee I took a lorazepam.

Today I haven’t been lightheaded or had any of the intense head rushes I was getting yesterday, leaving me once again to wonder if it’s connected to when I sleep shitty.

As promised, the water was shut off at 8am sharp. Why can’t these things ever happen when I’m on nights?

Today I was able to manage a half-hour walk. I stopped at the clubhouse hoping to drop a load of pee in their non-flushable toilets, but sure enough, there was a note on the door saying not to use them while the water was turned off. It’d be just my shit luck to pee and then come face-to-face with Joy on my way out. What could I say I was doing in there? Studying my wonderfully ugly reflection in the mirror and getting a good laugh out of it?

Got some music on now to drown out the daily barrage of landscaping, motorcycles, service vehicles, etc. I’m too easily distracted for that shit, and I really want to get my book finished by the end of the month.

Having doubts about my next book idea unless I add more people, I can think of 10 people per state, but I couldn’t come up with enough things to say about some of them to equal the 1000 words per person I originally planned. More people, fewer words? Maybe. Or maybe I’ll just do a novel or a collection of short stories. I still have 10 days to decide.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 19, 2016 Wow, someone looked for me? I’m amazed, even if it’s not a Stacey. It was a fellow Proseboxer in England. Not sure what her real name is, but when I changed accounts I totally forgot her username (this opinion of mine) and then I saw her on the front page the other day. I friended and followed her and explained my disappearance. Then I was sure to block her from my MO account.

She said she was sad when I disappeared and that she tried to find me.

It’s a shame that Aly won’t also miss me enough to be sad enough to look for me, not that I would be hard to find. But hey, I’m totally refusing to allow myself to feel an ounce of sympathy for her. She made her own misery.

Her saying that I was too confusing for her… what a joke! How does she think I felt when she was kind to my face and then I caught her saying such horrible things about me in an account she never thought I’d find? That was confusing.

Yesterday she tweeted: When I know a friend is going through a hard time, I’ll make the time to check in with them. Wish I had someone who’d do that for me.

But she did have someone who did that for her only she chose to throw her away because that friend felt that honesty was the best policy and she warned her against those who were phony and self-centered.

An hour later she tweeted: Really feel like giving up on everything right now. I keep reaching out to people hoping for a friend but all I get is silence.

Hard to feel sorry for someone who keeps reaching out to virtual strangers or virtual nutjobs who lack empathy. In that case, she kind of deserves the silence she gets. She has been playing the same old game for years now, and like I said, I’ve lost the desire to try to work things out with someone you just can’t reason with. It isn’t just her clinginess and guilt trips that were the problem, as I said before, it’s the lies, too. So yeah, Alison, if you ever read online this I hope this clears up your “confusion.” Think about it the next time you unfairly and wrongly blame me for your depression. You’re like Molly… born to be miserable no matter what. You two deserve each other. Two honest-to-God true peas in a pod.

I totally give myself permission to give up on those who have given up on me. If you don’t give a shit about me, I don’t give a shit about you.

Later…

I hate it when my health prevents me from living life. For the first time in a while, I am horribly lightheaded. I really wanted to enjoy a nice walk this morning but I just didn’t feel comfortable going out there myself, even though I highly doubt I would’ve passed out or anything. As always, I can never know for sure what’s causing it; only speculate.

Since walking is out of the question today, maybe I’ll at least have the energy to work on the Bowflex. It doesn’t feel like I’m just lightheaded when I get lightheaded but fatigued as well. It’s like all I want to do is just lie around yet I really want to get on with my usual routine.

I’m almost finished with my story and I have a potential idea for November’s NaNoWriMo if I can just get the energy to finish this book and put the new idea together. It’s actually a little different. It’s not really a novel. Instead, I thought it would be cool to write about the people who have had the most impact, or at least somewhat of an impression on me, excluding family. In order to win you have to write 50,000 words. I’ve lived in 5 states and was thinking of maybe picking 10 people per state. So I was thinking 5 states, 50 people, 1000 words each.

The fucking park is going to turn our water off AGAIN tomorrow from 8am – 2pm. This time I called and blasted them out but got what I expected… that when the pipes break they have to fix it.

“Did you guys ever think of maybe lowering the space rent as often as this happens or compensating the residents somehow?” I asked.

Of course not. Instead, they turn our water off every month, force loud music on us even if they don’t do it often, drive some of us crazy with the daily landscaping sounds, allow motorcycles to spoil the peace even more… and to hell with what we have to say about it.

Since we’re not in a position to move right now with all the debt we’re in, we’re thinking of getting a little reservoir that goes in the bathroom that would allow us to flush the toilets when the water’s off. This is something that’s obviously never going to stop, especially since, as Virginia said, it’s been going on since 1988. So if they can’t fix the problem in over three decades, they never will.

We still have a shitload of dirt in our hot water tank to get rid of too, plus we need to put a filter on the place if I ever want to take a bath again and feel like I’m not in a lake or the ocean.

This weekend I also want to scale back from Sierra to El Capitan. This OS is too buggy. It’s just that Tom never has the time to do these things with me, and understandably, is exhausted on weekends with all the hours he works.

Later…

Ugh. So now there are two motorcycles living on this circle alone. “Coincidently” they live at a couple of the houses that recently sold. There are currently four houses for sale on this circle. Let me guess… they’ll just “happen” to be bought by motorcycle lovers, right? Right?

This ugly orange one that lives on the other side of the circle went out and then came back a half-hour later. For a while, I’ve been hearing one idling. At least I think that’s what I’m hearing. I figured the warm spell we’re having would bring the fuckers out. What I didn’t count on was there being so damn many in a retirement community. So much traffic, so much activity, so much noise… all where older people live… WTF? I just never would have guessed it, but it’s still better than the mainstream. I would be hearing nonstop barking and God knows how many screaming kids if I were there now. I dread the day Bob and Virginia die. Really worry we’ll get the worst over there if we’re still here, and I still worry about Jon getting a motorcycle, too.

That thing is still idling. It’s been about an hour now. Would someone really leave a motorcycle idling that long? Maybe that’s not what I’ve been hearing. I’d like it to stop now, whatever it is. I’ve really come to hate just about any and all sounds in this world. It could be an ATV or a golf cart. While it made me feel a bit better to bitch to the office about the motorcycles when I bitched about the water, I realized that the park is going to do whatever they’re going to do regardless. If 80% of the residents called and bitched about it, they still won’t re-ban the fucking things. Just damn whoever allowed them in. Damn them to hell and back! I mean come on, they had to have known that every 10-15 households would have them. That’s about 50 of them in this park and that doesn’t include those that visit on them!

So Cassie… she’s the one that was sad when I disappeared and that was looking for me. If I’ve got my facts straight she’s in her late 20s and she lives in London. Right now I consider her my closest cyber friend. She knows what happened with Aly, and while no one can ever replace her (at least the good traits that she had) it’s nice to know she cares more than I thought she did, and we even connected on Twitter which I made public. I figured what the hell, even though I’m sure the spammers will be quick to follow me. I just won’t follow them back. That way they can’t message me with their bullshit.

I don’t know if Cassie is all that smart and mature, but she seems to be a decent, honest person. I will just enjoy our friendship while it lasts. The only real negative I can say about her is that as she herself admitted, she’s insensitive when it comes to those who have tried to commit suicide. I don’t know her overly well, but we’ve exchanged comments on and off for quite a while now.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 18, 2016 I’ve wondered if Aly could possibly have her Twitter account connected to a tracker of some kind. If she’s tracked my visits or if she still reading my blog, I should get a sense of it by what she tweets and how often since I discovered her latest Twitter account. Already she’s deleted a tweet about being miserable and hasn’t tweeted anything today.

Strangely enough, my heart started pounding after going to the bathroom yesterday. I felt absolutely no anxiety, though, and I went through the tapping routine Stacey taught me and it slowed down in just a few minutes. I didn’t have my Fitbit on at the time, but by the time I buckled it on my HR was down to 112. I also felt a bit nauseous and out of breath, but whatever it was passed quickly.

My new glasses arrived and I love them. I would still prefer not to need them at all or to have the guts to poke my eyeballs with contacts so I only needed reading glasses, but they’re very comfortable. One is purple and the other is red with white arms that have a red floral design on them. The purple ones look best on me. Those are my mid-range reading glasses. The only thing I would change is that I would make those my bifocals that I wear outdoors because they look better on me. It’s no big deal, though. I have no problem with the bifocal lines and they transitioned nicely to the sun when I was out walking for a half-hour earlier.

Love the wipes they enclosed for them with nature scenes. One has a wooded scene with birch trees and the other has a lily pond.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 17, 2016 In odd years we get a major purchase and in even years we go on vacation. It rained all day yesterday – sometimes hard – and we decided to just take the day off to do absolutely nothing. So mixed in with Netflix, audiobooks and too much food, we decided to get some rough ideas on where we may go for our next vacation in 15 months or so.

We looked at flights to Tahiti, Fiji and Jamaica. Given that we’re in the western part of the US, these would be very long flights. Having so much travel time the last time, we decided we might just stay in our own state and drop down to San Diego. It will only take an hour and a half to fly down to Los Angeles, then about an hour to San Diego. It’s tropical and there would be plenty of activities that we would both enjoy.

I wouldn’t be adding another country to my list but I would be adding another major city because I’ve never been there before. It would be so much less flying time and money that it’s very appealing. That is unless they lay him off and screw up all our plans big time.

It was funny because he had a spreadsheet open on one of his monitors and I asked him what a “Bof A” was. He said that since it didn’t cost anything to get a Bank of America card, he got one so that if we were ever in a position where we can’t pay our bills, they’re the ones that get stuck with our debt after the way they fucked him over in Arizona.

I have been to most of the major cities in California except for San Diego and San Francisco. Despite the fact that part of the book I’m writing now takes place in San Francisco, the only thing about the place that would interest me would be touring Alcatraz. The climate is otherwise not what I prefer and I would hate all the hills.

There’s only a 25% chance of rain today, which means it probably won’t rain which means it will almost certainly be noisy. The landscapers are going to be eagerly after the leaves and twigs scattered about from yesterday’s rainstorms.

A part of me wishes it rained regularly because of how quiet it is when it does. You still hear loud cars and trucks at times, but you don’t hear motorcycles or landscaping or other outdoor activities. I know that if it did rain all the time, however, it would quickly get depressing. I can see a daily burst of rain in a warm climate, but when it’s cold, gray and rainy it can get old pretty fast. It wasn’t that cold, though, just chilly.

I would totally love to be pleasantly surprised with a call from Stacey, but I would be willing to bet just about anything that I’m going to be the one to make the first move (as usual, though as is also kinda reasonable in this case) come Valentine’s Day unless my schedule doesn’t permit it. Sometime in mid-February is when I’ll call, but I’m definitely going to aim for Valentine’s Day.

If she surprised me first, I wonder if she would do it from home on the weekend or from work. I’m guessing she would do it from work where she had privacy unless she knew her husband would be gone all day.

They’ve postponed Oktoberfest until November 6. Oktoberfest in November? I’m sure nothing up there will have me be blessed enough to be asleep during that time since they’re determined to force it on us no matter what. We can at least get the hell out that day.

After 10 years my passport will expire next month. Next weekend I’ll be going to get my picture taken.

Right now I’m waiting for Joe to deliver my new glasses and hoping that they’re not a waste of money. I think my figurine is coming today too, of a dark-haired girl in a red bikini.

As expected, there’s quite a landscaping frenzy going on around here today between both Bob and the park workers.

Later…

I’m a naughty girl today. Yes, I had a moment’s weakness where I gave into my hobby of info diving and found “Evil Aly,” Aly’s latest Twitter account. I found it through a friend of hers. The friend she told she had changed accounts because she was still having “problems” with a former friend. You know, those “problems” where I stupidly hoped we could actually work things out and said only kind things to her?

Bull fucking shit. Really just bull fucking shit. She makes it sound like I forced her to change accounts. She said she did this to “avoid” me, but why couldn’t she just block me and go private? I didn’t make her change accounts, but that’s just Aly for you… always blaming others for her actions.

Then came the challenge that made me wonder if she actually likes not only mindfucking people, but cat and mouse games. This was when she tweeted: Deleted my other account. Go ahead and find me, J. The way you act vs the nice things you occasionally say… You’re too confusing for me.

So you change accounts because you’re supposedly “confused?” You can’t just ignore, block or go private?

Well, Aly may be smart but I definitely want nothing to do with her because she’s just too fucked up. Just like it’s pointless to get with an abusive person simply because they may be good-looking, there’s no point in associating with someone this messed up. I respect myself enough to stay away from her. And her twisted friends.

She’s just as confusing as she says she’s confused. Why ask me to resend what I wrote for her just to run and hide? She did the same thing last time after playing dead Wi-Fi.

I may look in on her tweets just for laughs, but she doesn’t have to worry about playing the dead Wi-Fi game or running and hiding like the coward that she is because I have no intentions of ever contacting her again. I’m surprised it took me as long as it did to realize just how screwed up she really is.

But I won’t do it this time. I won’t. I won’t contact her and attempt to clear up any confusion she may have by letting her know how I feel (which I admit were conflicting emotions in the past), so she can cry dead Wi-Fi, promise to respond to tweets and messages as soon as she can, and then change accounts.

Seriously… Aly, Andy, Maliheh, Nane… if you ever decide you miss me in a year from now or 5 years or 10 years or 20 years, I won’t be there for you. I don’t care if you read my journal, but you’ll never have a friend in me again.

Her tweets are full of the usual things… Health issues, emotional issues, guilt trips on others who aren’t there the instant she wants them, etc. Did she ever think that maybe they’re avoiding her? Like maybe they don’t want to get caught up in her drama? Yet according to Aly, if no one is available the instant she snaps her fingers, then they’re horrible friends who must not give a shit. It couldn’t be that they may actually have more to do than just babysit her and hold her hand. This clinginess and these guilt trips, along with the lies, are why I almost dumped her before she beat me to it. I was getting so damn fed up with the constant lies, drama and demands. Enough was never enough for her. She would tell me she preferred honesty in one breath, but in the next, she was getting all offended whenever I would be honest with her. She was simply never a true friend.

I’m not saying she doesn’t have clinical depression. She does. And while we all need a good support system, we can’t depend on people 24/7 either.

I no longer feel sorry for Aly P. She made her own bed and she’s plenty welcome to lie in it right along with her sick, twisted, delusional phony friends who couldn’t tell the truth if you paid them. If she can forgive someone who told her she hoped her cancer would kill her, but she can’t forgive someone who was honest with her about her “friend’s” ill intentions, then she deserves people like Kim and Molly in her life.

The only other reference she made to me was telling Kim that she didn’t want to discuss something in particular in case I was “spying,” if one can actually “spy” on a public account. I’m a little confused as to why she would care what I think of anything she has to say, but like I said, she’s just as confusing as she is confused.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 16, 2016 So this guy handcuffs this girl to their bed for kinky sex when an intruder breaks in. He then frantically tries to hurry up and free her so they can fight back or at least get away. During this dream in which I awoke with my heart pounding for a minute or two, I wasn’t sure if I was a silent observer in the dream or if somebody was telling me this story.

Then I had a couple more dreams in which I am both glad and not so glad that I haven’t had much in the way of dream premonitions over the last few years.

In the first dream, I was writing to tell Alyssa that I would be having heart surgery on January 7. She actually surprised me with a reply to the message but that was only because she felt bad for me. I replied to her reply and that was it as far as that dream went.

The last dream was great. I got a message from Stacey. Although I don’t remember hearing her voice much less what she said, I knew the message was from her. The only part of the dream I remember vividly was walking by wherever I had my phone lying around and noticing the blinking light of the message indicator.

I don’t hold out much hope of it being a sign of anything. Not after my win dreams failed to produce any wins, and not having any nightmares pertaining to Tammy when she had her heart attack.

The weather’s been wet and in the 60s, but in a couple of days, it will be dry and in the 70s.

I’m doing what I usually do on weekends… overeating, watching Netflix, listening to audiobooks, and changing the rats’ cage. It’s been a nice relaxing weekend so far. :-)

I got some beauty goodies at Walmart yesterday. Heat protectant spray for the hair that you spray on before straightening it. This is a straightening formula that supposedly keeps it smooth for three days.

I also got this dry shampoo that you spray on because I’m curious to see what it’s like for when my hair starts to get a little greasy but doesn’t need to be washed that instant. Or maybe when I roll out of bed at the last minute and don’t have time to wash my hair before I go out for appointments or something like that.

I also got facial oil-removing wipes that almost feel like a cross between vinyl and rubber. They’re actually tissue-thin. I’ve had these before. They provide a good way to remove excess oil when you don’t have time to wash your face. Having a dry face leads to flaky skin and wrinkles, but having it too oily can lead to zits.

Starbucks cinnamon K-cups are wonderful. Even though cinnamon is just so-so in itself, I always found it to go great with coffee. Caramel is my favorite flavor and the whole world yet cinnamon coffee is better than the Caramel Drizzle I tried, which didn’t even taste like caramel.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 15, 2016 So I did all that writing about how antisocial I gotta be to keep safe – and I do – but then I realized it’d be pretty simple to share my wordy goodies without the drama. All I have to do is use Black Onyx. First I blocked Rachel and the old lady since they read my FO Peyton account. Then I simply disabled comments on the entries. Now I can have fun watching those who watch me without the drama. Might not get many readers, though (unless I write some seriously controversial shit) since I won’t be socializing. That’s ok, though.

Last night I dreamed we were moving to Mexico to save money.

Joe was also delivering mail in the house again instead of to our box.

Going to Walmart this morning.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 14, 2016 What happened to Charlotte? She just disappeared into thin air. Usually, if someone deletes their account the name associated with past comments exchanged with them says “deleted user.” Also, if someone blocks us we can still search their name and pull up their account; we just can’t access it. After so many years it’s hard to believe she would suddenly disappear. We always got along well too, so it’s strange.

I asked in today’s entry if anyone knew anything, and while I got tons of views, only one person said they hate it when someone they’ve been reading for a while suddenly disappears, and that she hopes she’s okay.

Went on a nice walk with Tom this morning who is now at work, and had fun playing with Burke and Dumbo, especially Burke because he’s the friendliest and the most playful. The others prefer to play with each other, but Burke likes to include me in some of their games and will run over to give me his version of a hug and kiss every now and then to remind me he loves me. As usual, they all ignore poor Tom, haha.

Simon rarely comes out and we don’t think he’s very healthy. He’s not dying or anything like that, but it’s like he doesn’t have much energy. He’s not very playful. He spends most of his time either eating or sleeping.

We’re supposed to get a big storm today, even if our definition of “big storm” is a bit laughable compared to some places.

First I was laughing at how the rain this weekend would cancel Oktoberfest, but instead, they’re just going to postpone it. sighs with frustration So they’re determined to force it on those of us who would rather not be invited to this event anyway. They will hear from me anonymously about it. I know it won’t change anything but I feel like I have to do something. If I never say a word about the things that get to me in life, I’ll only end up exploding.

Last night I dreamed that we had somewhat of a backyard wherever it was we were living. There was a body of water that was green and you couldn’t see through it at all. I’m not sure if it was a pool or a natural body of water.

Then there was what looked like this large shiny silver hubcap that I decided to move somewhere else within the yard.

Later…

Did a little more digging and found that Charlotte blocked me after all. I was just unable to pull up her account at first because I was spelling her username wrong, duh. Either way, I’m not hurt or angry but I am curious, so I asked her from my other account what her reasons were and promised I would accept them and not contact her again. I actually sent it from “Black Onyx’s” account, saying that my friend copied and pasted the message for me.

She is yet another reminder that any friendship can end at any time, and no friendship is sacred. Meanwhile, I’ve switched to members-only and now I write on Prosebox just for the old lady in Texas and Rachel in Florida… Until we dump each other, of course.

Later…

So Charlotte blocked Black Onyx. Yeah, I’m not surprised. She did me a favor actually because her entries were always so damn long. Yet I felt obligated to at least skim them so I could comment because she would do the same for me.

While I don’t regret some of the cyber friendships I’ve had, and I’ve certainly had some interesting moments, I have become more private and have really withdrawn into my own little shell to protect my ass. Fewer people = fewer headaches. It’s always safer not to be sociable. It may be boring this way at times, but it’s definitely safer. I will admit that sometimes I miss certain people and even playing with the trolls despite that kind of “fun” being negative, immature and toxic. It really did put more stress on me than anything else after all, and while I may not regret the time I had with Aly or Nane, I definitely regret the crazies like Kim and Molly. I’m not sure if I can say I regret Maliheh, but I think at this point I definitely regret reuniting with Andy in 2010. He just caused me so much grief and frustration.

The good thing is that if any of these people were to come to me asking to be a part of my life again, I now know that I have the strength to say “no” without hesitation. I probably wouldn’t even do that much but would simply ignore them instead. Regardless of the fact that most people are very unforgiving, that is definitely the best policy for me personally. Forgiving people and giving friendships another chance almost always backfires on me. I could kick myself for a lot of the shit I’ve forgiven, especially since the people I forgave would never forgive me or anybody else for the same things. Just getting involved with people in the first place isn’t a good idea.

I don’t think I could say “no” to Stacey, though, should she ever surprise me with wanting to get together. That much I still want if it’s in my cards, though I’m pretty sure it’s not. Even though I was surprised when I realized that this prominent psychologist liked me as well, I’m 90-something percent sure of what will happen… I’ll call her on Valentine’s Day if my schedule permits (or close to that time), and we’ll chat but will never see each other again.

I gotta wonder though… was Charlotte karma for my thoughts? When Aly dumped me I almost dumped my current friends with Charlotte and Rachel being top of the list just to keep this very thing from happening to me again. Then again, I’d rather be dumped than stalked relentlessly. But still… if you don’t have friends then you can’t be dumped or given a reason to dump them. Also, if you’re not sociable, you can’t get trolls latching onto you so easily.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 13, 2016 Not liking some of the things Sierra’s changed. :(

I took a lorazepam before bed and slept better and I feel better today, too. So is that it? Where lack of sleep used to leave me tired, now it leaves me dizzy and anxious, too.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 12, 2016 Neither of us is having a great day so far. His teeth ache and he’s almost certainly infected and in need of antibiotics. He knows he can get them if he needs them, but what he really needs to do is get his damn teeth taken care of. All of them. He can’t keep treating part of the problem forever. But unfortunately, he has a phobia of dentists just like I do with medication. To him, having to see one makes him feel much like I would feel if I had to have eye surgery.

He took some ibuprofen to work with him but I still worry about him. Also, I slept really shitty and didn’t even get six hours of sleep. I woke up every hour. Every time I woke up and considered taking lorazepam, I drifted back off to sleep, so I never did take any.

Today I’m not only tired but I’m also lightheaded and feeling a little anxious. No earaches, though. It still sucks because I had been feeling so well. Hopefully, I’ll get better sleep next time around and I’ll feel better tomorrow. Fortunately, I’m blessed with working at home, so I can take breaks if I need to. I’d say it’s unlikely I’m going to work on my story today.

I also have that pain in my lower left gut that I suspect could be a little cyst on my ovary. This seems to be something I get about two weeks before my period.

I started getting worried about Tammy because I noticed she hadn’t been online much and she wasn’t responding to my emails or messages. I don’t expect her to respond to every single one, but she usually responds to some of them.

I called both her cell and landline and got no answer. Norma hadn’t heard from her either and so she tried to call as well. She managed to get a hold of her and then she told me that Tammy would call me, and she did. It turns out that she did get evacuated, after all, so she, Mark and their dog went to stay with the girls and their cat. The girls live in an apartment building that’s built to hurricane standards. LOL, it was probably a bit chaotic, though fun. Wish I could’ve been there.

One of the best things she told me was that she quit smoking over a month ago! Finally! I’m so proud of her. Sure enough, and as I warned her would be the case, she’s gained weight. Better to have the extra weight and be able to breathe, though. I quit smoking 19 years ago at 110 pounds and shot to 125 pretty fast.

Mark is back at his old job, which is good. They were happy to have him back too, and the guy that caused him trouble before is on his way out.

She sounded great but is still weak because she still has fibromyalgia. We talked about a few other odds and ends… our loved ones, our pets, etc.

They had a quick power outage where Tom works yesterday, but nothing here.

We’re in for another warm day today, which might be why I slept so shitty yesterday, so I had him open the bedroom vent again to sleep more comfortably. It’s going to be a little warm tomorrow too, then the forecast is calling for a surprising four days of rain. That would be wonderful if it rained on the 16th because that’s when they’re having the Oktoberfest, and if the band plans to play outdoors, I would think rain would ruin those plans and prevent me from having to listen to the thumping of bass for four hours. I couldn’t get that lucky, though, but we’ll see. Just maybe I will.

Still have to chase off that woodpecker at times, so I guess we’re stuck with it permanently as long as we live here.

I updated my computer’s operating system from El Capitan to Sierra, and the first bug I found was with highlighting issues. You have to highlight text quickly otherwise it won’t work. I guess that’s all that’s really wrong that I know of so far.

I love my new necklace and new cold-shoulder shirt, but I’m not sure of the color. It’s a great fit, but baby pink is a bit pale against my equally pale skin. More contrast would have been nicer.

A year or two before my parents died they sent me tons of clothes. Most of them were very nice, stylish, and came at a time when I could really use them. But now that they’re getting old and we’ve got money, it’s nice to replace some of them. Not all of them but some of them; with styles and colors of my own choosing. There are many great fashions on Amazon and surprisingly cheap, too.

Last night I dreamed that Joe the mailman delivered mail to one of the bedrooms instead of to the mailbox. The house almost looked like it really does too, which is unusual for me when it comes to dreams of where I/we live. I was studying a broken monitor in the guest room, which seemed to be used for storage only. He plopped the mail down on a table or desk, then stepped out into the hallway. I followed him out, but instead of him going down the hallway to the front door, he waited just outside the door in the opposite direction and then followed me to the door. He swatted me on the ass along the way.

Then Tom and I were on the road, and the radio in the car could be operated by voice commands.

Then there was something about Tom having to eat blueberries and raisins (boogers) at a doctor’s office.

In the last dream, I was toe dancing, even though I’ve never been on pointe in real life and never wanted to be. First I was on both toes and showing off to Tom. Then I was twirling on one toe, but it wasn’t really my toe. It was more like the top outer side of my foot.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 11, 2016 I didn’t watch the presidential debate, but it’s sad how instead of these debates being about issues that really matter - healthcare, taxes, education, etc. - it’s now about attacking personal character.

Again, it’s all going to come down to what matters most to people… gender or politically correct. I think a lot more people are pro-black than anti-women, so I’m still going with Hillary. We’ll make history either way with either the first woman or the first obvious gay. I mean, come on, it’s beyond obvious if just half the rumors are true about Trump. Sorry, but no one hates women that much without being gay. No one. That’s like refusing to eat liver while claiming it’s still your “cup of tea.”

I have no problem with a gay guy running the country, but when you hate your own sexuality so much and are so uncomfortable and insecure with yourself that you openly hate women and other gays, I got a problem with that. However, I totally get his stance on Muslims and blacks. I’m just as fed up with their violence and demands for extra privileges as he is.

I like that I haven’t found Aly’s current Twitter account. I think that not looking in on her helps me to move on and get over her shit. I may never have a close friend but being free of Aly means I’m also free of Kim and Molly and whatever other nutjobs she may be into these days.

If there was ever a time I wished I checked into Facebook more often it was now. I just discovered that Sarah was in the hospital for a shoulder injury. I admit I’ve been avoiding Facebook because it not only never held that much for me to begin with but also, all the political talk was driving me crazy. It’s nothing but politics, racism, and people I’d really rather not be reminded of. Therefore, I stopped checking my entire feed figuring it would only be the same old shit. I’ve even unfollowed some of my friends, but still consider them people that I care about. It could be a question of visibility issues as well. Sometimes the things we post don’t appear to others even if we have them set to.

Anyway, she’s young and strong so hopefully she’ll be on the mend soon enough.

I hope everything’s okay with Tammy. I’ve been hearing less and less from her these days, but I understand that people do get busy and they do have off-line lives. Maybe she’s sick of Facebook for the same reasons I am. Since the surgery has helped her and she’s been recovering, she’s probably busy catching up on things she hasn’t been able to do for a long time. I’m sure we’ll check in with each other soon enough.

I have been doing great physically and emotionally with the exception of earaches almost every day within my fake canal. Since it’s been a problem since 2004, I don’t hold out much hope of it ever being resolved.

My new boots fit great, although they really make my feet and legs hot and are about an inch too tall (because I have short legs). Rather than coming to just below the knees, they come to the middle of my knees.

The boot socks I ordered arrive today, which will hopefully make them a little more comfortable so that my legs don’t feel like they’re baking. The boots are a pleasant shade of brown which just about any color will go with. I’ve got a necklace and cut-shoulder shirt arriving today as well in baby pink.

Tom said he’s sure it doesn’t have anything to do with him, but that he’s got to work 10-hour shifts this week because that’s what everybody else is working. So he believes in coincidences? I’m not sure I do, as yes, there are people out there who will spite a whole group of people just to target one person. Then again, he knows these people better than I do. I wasn’t there, so I couldn’t see their expression or hear their tone.

The new air cleaner is definitely more powerful and does a better job against rat odors. It was worth the $100. Volume-wise it’s about the same as the other one. Since I like to enjoy the peacefulness of nighttime, it’s powerful enough that I can leave it on medium instead of high, which you can barely hear. During the daytime when it’s sometimes noisy, I prefer to play nature sounds or something like that to drown out background noise. With four rats, the old air cleaner wasn’t cutting it even on high, which also made it hard for me to hear my very soft-spoken husband.

Valentine’s Day is when I decided I’d contact Stacey. For the last two months, I’ve been trying to decide when would be the best time to call her, assuming I’m right in guessing she doesn’t beat me to it, and yesterday I decided that would be a good day to contact her and “be her valentine,” so to speak. I just think the idea of contacting her on that day is kind of funny. Unless I either needed to see her at her office or she calls me first, I knew I wanted to wait six months to a year.

Palma showed up in my dreams last night for the first time in a long time. I wonder what that bitch is up to these days? :) I miss her at times.

In my dreams I casually wandered down a street, heading away from wherever she was. Eventually, I realized I was a half-hour away even if I walked back at a brisk pace. So I turned and hurried back even though I returned in just a minute.

She was talking to some guy who then came up behind me and pressed the front of his body against my backside. I could feel his facial stubble against my cheek and pretended not to notice, LOL.

Palma then went downstairs, but it was a split-level, so I could still see her. I said I was going to go to the bathroom when the guy who pressed himself against me said I couldn’t go until I learned to pronounce the name of my new medication, whatever that was. He said the name of it and I said it would be impossible for me to learn how to pronounce it anytime soon.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 9, 2016 This month’s Amazon order: A Y-shaped ring necklace, a pink cut-shoulder shirt, boot socks, and a figurine of a brunette in a red bikini.

Also getting a more powerful air cleaner to put by the rats. It’s a 22” tower cleaner that targets bacteria and odors in ways old-fashioned air cleaners don’t.

Tom’s decided he’s had enough with the unfair OT at work and is definitely going to put his foot down. He’s a kind, easygoing guy and they’ve taken advantage of him. It’s as simple as that. They tell everyone else no more OT, but he has to work 10 and 11-hour shifts. Well, fuck that. He’s only doing what OT the others are doing. Next week they plan on 9-hour days, so that’s what he’ll do and not a minute more. If they fire him, tough shit. They haven’t given him shit for bonuses, and while he may make good money, many people make more than him without ever doing a second of OT.

Nothing against sweet Stacey, but she gets to sit in a chair and gab with people all day to the tune of at least 74K a year, from what my research says psychologists usually make, without doing any OT. Meanwhile, he barely has time to eat, piss and sleep for less than that. Seriously, they give the guy an income fit for the early millennium, then they make him spend so much time working that he ends up sleeping half the weekend away. He said he doesn’t mind doing an occasional Saturday, but no more killer shifts while everyone else gets to go home.

He can be the one to give ultimatums this time and tell them to go fuck themselves if they fire him, but seriously, this time the asses of those involved are mine, and I told him so. We walked away from everyone that screwed us in Arizona, but not here! Even so, I would still be a bit worried. Despite all the fucking foreigners, most companies are American-owned which means that he wouldn’t be able to get as much time off per year, so getting me to appointments might be an issue, and of course the pay might not be as much, since the pay here doesn’t always match the cost-of-living, and people like to cheat the guy. Young people with no experience often make more than he does. For this state, especially being older, his hourly pay should be in the 20s and not the teens. $17 is better than $10, but come on.

This is where I start to wonder if there’s something up there determined to make sure that he’s not paid fairly. We hope he’s never fired or laid off until he either retires or leaves willingly, but you know how it is for us; one long-term change/problem after another. Now that my health/emotions have been stabilized it would be just our shit luck to be set back by something like a forced job change. Do I think we’ll lose this place? Hmm… we could, but naw. Too noisy. If it was quiet and the house was newer, sure. If there’s one curse I definitely believe in, it’s the noise curse. This may not be like the NHA or Phoenix, but it’s noisy enough during the weekdays and sometimes weekends as well.

And then another thought hit me as far-fetched as it may be. What if something up there is setting the stage to get me away from Stacey by presenting us with a ticket out-of-state sooner than planned? There’s no guarantee we ever would have met even if I stayed here for the rest of my life, but there was never any question of her liking me in that way. So what if things just “happen” to come up to make sure nothing happens, even if it were just a friendship? Much like it did with Johnson when Misha was thrown in my cell. It happens all the time and I’ve said it before… all the good people or eye candy disappear or circumstances arise to make me disappear. Jane the waitress disappeared in Oregon. So did Liz the cashier. Then Randy changes routes. It can’t be a coincidence.

On the other hand, a long-distance move before he retires would not be smart at all. Even if we could get enough money from the house, we would probably be stuck in an apartment for over a year while he scrambled to find a job in Florida where the pay wasn’t that great. Then he would have to hope to stay at the job for a year in order to qualify for a home. No way. Just no fucking way. I won’t do apartments ever again, even if they were for older people. Older people can still blast music and TV and they can still have unruly company, too.

So I think a long-distance move would be too risky. Again, poverty may not scare me like it used to, but I’m not going to be stupid about it either.

Later…

Saw Alyssa’s wedding pics. Well, the two on the cover photo and profile pic. The others are no doubt private. She looked like a movie star with the most gorgeous smile I’ve ever seen. Hubby is just eh. Her gown wasn’t as fancy as I expected it to be, but the multi-tiered gown was fancy enough. The bridesmaids were dressed in a lovely shade of deep violet. The whole extravaganza no doubt costs much more than most people make in a year. Still don’t get where a doctor finds the time to plan and carry out such events.

Now… how many years will it take for them to get bored with each other sexually? Will they ruin/strain the relationship with kids? Honestly, Alyssa probably adores kids but seems like your typical modern career woman, so I’d guess no to the last question.

Has Stacey discussed me, too? I realized that if I could discuss her with others, she could very well discuss me with others as well. Somehow I can’t picture one of those people being her husband. I think that if she’s discussed me with others it’s in a private journal or a close friend, not that she strikes me as the kind to keep a journal. I’d say a GF or one of her sisters.

What was their response to me? I wonder. Could it be something like, “Stay away. It’s unethical no matter how much time has passed. You’re married. She’s married. Something’s wrong with you if you ever seek her out.”

Or is it more along the lines of, “Go for it. Just take it slow. Get a sense of where she’s really coming from first. Make sure she wouldn’t mention you to the wrong people. Be smart but enjoy yourself. Nothing wrong with it if it’s mutual and you both understand that friends or not, you’ll always consider your husbands #1.”

So Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream has decided to back BLM. What a shame. I think it’s sad when people support hate groups that believe only their lives matter… even when they aim loaded weapons at the police. Seriously, WTF is wrong with this world? If a white man twirls a gun at a cop and gets shot, he has it coming. If a black man does the same thing and gets shot, it’s discrimination. WTF?

I’ll stick with Häagen-Dazs.

Did some Bowflex exercises and went walking with him earlier. I gotta switch to an inner route and stay away from the perimeters. I’m just so sick of dogs outside of the park startling/annoying me with their barking. So many people are so mean to both their neighbors and their dogs by not allowing them indoors if they don’t have to. I honestly think that’s why not as many people as I expected to in the park have dogs. They just don’t want to bring them indoors. This is one of the things I hate most about western living.

I’ve been unable to remember many of my dreams lately other than quick flashes of senseless whatever. All I remember was something about showering and knowing I would be on the road all day the next day. I didn’t want to get the floor wet, but water kept leaking outside of the shower.

Then I dreamed of carrying something heavy in a bag down the street. The bag started to tear and Tom said he’d give me a ride.

Tom and I were discussing how we both need less sleep these days. I now sleep 6-8 hours. I rarely do 9-10 anymore. In the past when I used to be really tired, it was common for me to sleep 11-12 hours the next day. I can’t remember the last time I slept that long.

No matter how little or how much sleep I need, though, since I get to bed a little later each day, I’m still not going to be able to keep a schedule.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 8, 2016 Had my first racing heart wake me up in quite a while. It happened just an hour into my sleep. Fitbit clocked my HR as 118, but I wasn’t scared and it dropped in just a few minutes. I got up to pee (was dreaming about rats and Stacey), took a lorazepam and fell back asleep.

I was glad to learn that my family in Florida escaped Hurricane Matthew’s wrath. A part of me wished I was there. Storms are fun even if they can get a little bit scary at times. I just don’t care for them when they knock the power out or go waking me up. The storms where I live, however, are pretty wimpy and scarce.

We went on an evening walk earlier and both of us are looking forward to the weekend.

We’re having another warm spell, but then it’s to cool down and rain again.

Not doing much tonight. Just Netflix and listening to my audiobook.

It’s a little sad that he works his ass off so many hours a week yet we still need new floors, a matching dryer, a new stove, and a new kitchen set. This doesn’t include any outdoor projects.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 6, 2016 Tom didn’t even get to meet the main boss today. He just saw his Ferrari SUV.

After depriving myself of this and that just to lose 2 pounds that came right back, it was nice to indulge in the goodies he picked up on the way home from work. Roasted chicken wings, fried chicken legs, mac & cheese, a Milky Way bar, Muddy Buddies, and later… popcorn.

Last night I dreamed I was walking around with my T-shirt on inside out, and then somebody stupidly let their baby who could barely walk stand on the edge of a table in a restaurant. A part of me hoped it would fall off and teach the parents a lesson in stupidity.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 5, 2016 After I last wrote I ate quite a bit and felt better both physically and emotionally. I even skied for a half-hour while watching my show. Been feeling okay so far today too, but I really wish I could stop this up-and-down shit.

What sucks is that I had to reschedule my ear appointment, not that she could necessarily ever help me, from the 11th to the 3rd of next month.

Anyway, my book is going well and is almost at 45K words.

They changed some things at work and he’s continuing to have a lot of OT, which is both good and bad. It’s mad money but it’s no life. He barely has time to eat and sleep, though we did go on a quick evening walk together.

Tomorrow the main boss is going to be taking a tour of where he works. The guy moved from Europe. He’s a very wealthy guy. He bought a house in the area for $2 million and he paid in cash.

As sick as I am of hearing about it, it will be interesting to see who wins the next presidential race. If being politically correct is more important, Hillary will win. If gender is more important, then Trump will win since most people favor males. I think more people like blacks and don’t like to hear anything negative about them than there are people who favor men, and therefore I’m guessing Hillary will win. Based on what people’s standards seem to be these days I think more people are going to be against someone they believe to be racist, even if they themselves may be sexist. People are just more tolerant of sexists than racists for some reason. You can condemn and pick on a woman, but God help you if you bash a black, even if it’s a known criminal. Sure there are some that agree with me on the subject of blacks, but I’d say that most don’t. So Hillary will probably win, and if she doesn’t, Trump should have a good chance of someone trying to take him out. I knew no one would try to assassinate Obama, though. Again… black love. It’s been the “in” thing since the ‘90s.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 4, 2016 No point in oiling my ear or taking ibuprofen. These things no longer help the pain. I pinched my nose and blew till it popped like the doctor in Oregon had me do and then it made a soft popping sound on its own a few times around. It’s never done that before. I usually have to move my jaw a certain way to get that popping, crackling sound. But it would make a little pop and then I’d feel “movement” of either air or fluid in what I’m guessing was my inner ear. This happened a few times before I oiled it. I wondered if I’d have panicked if I hadn’t been EMDRd.

Either way, I still don’t buy the damaged nerve theory because of how long after surgery it became a problem. That may be some of it, but I really think the problem somehow lies within my eardrum, inner tube or both. If the outside could change as it has over the years, then isn’t it safe to say the inside has as well? The question is how much worse will it continue to get over the years to come?

I also wonder if the fatigue and lightheadedness are more connected to my ear than I realized. Questions, questions, questions, but never any answers! What good are these specialists then? I’m frustrated and it’s making me depressed.

Same with my female issues. Sometimes I feel crampy, like my period’s starting. Only it doesn’t start. I’ll just have a spot here and there and that’s it. Again I wonder… perimenopause or a problem?

Really prefer problems that aren’t physical or emotional if I’ve got to have any problems at all.

It’s nights like this I kind of wish I had a friend like Aly, but I suppose I’m better off not having that if they’re only going to dump me or cause me to dump them somewhere down the road. It’s tough… do you take the good times while they last, or do you avoid the drama in the end by not bothering with people in the first place?

MONDAY, OCTOBER 3, 2016 Our little service junkies are already at it this week. Two vehicles are over there slamming doors now despite the rain. Knew they would be. Obviously, they have time to kill and money to burn.

It’s cloudy and chilly out, but ideal for walking.

Joe gave me the mail.

Should’ve gotten my dress in L instead of XL, but I can still wear it.

Wood chews came for the rats, plus another poop pan. We went from ugly to uglier with those… from navy to gray.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 2, 2016 We had our first rain today. It was nice and it kept things quieter around here, the motorcycles in particular. Despite the rain, Tom managed to trim some trees on the property line.

Since I’m going Helen Keller we downsized me to an old 24” monitor. I’m going to miss the giant 32” monitor, but it’s too big to see from a distance and too big to pull closer to me. My 13” laptop is a bit too small, though. The only problem is that it’s too high for me, so we’re going to print a new stand on the 3D printer to lower it so I don’t have to tip my head back in order to see out of the lower part of my bifocals.

Since I’ve wanted to learn a language that uses a different lettering system, I enrolled in Duolingo’s Russian course yesterday. Whoa! I’m glad I’m not sleeping now with the boom of thunder I just heard. Anyway, some of the letters are like ours and some make the same sounds. Others make simple sounds, but what you see isn’t what you get, as is sometimes the case with German. Then there are sounds that are tougher to pronounce. I’ve noticed so far in just the few lessons I’ve taken that many words sound similar to English while they look different written out.

I think I can learn it, though I’m not going to take the language all that seriously. I think that just learning the basics would be enough for me. That way I can have a basic idea of what’s being said if I stumble across anything in Russian, but I have no desire to learn it well. Right now the only languages I want to get as good as I can in are Spanish, Italian and German. Just a general idea of Portuguese, French, Dutch, Esperanto and Russian is sufficient enough.

It was a toss-up between Russian and Greek. I chose Russian because it’s more common than Greek.

A popular scam is going around where people will hack servers for people’s contact info and make it look like their friends are asking them for money or to buy whatever. Norma let me know that she got several spam emails appearing to be from me. I changed passwords on Facebook and a couple of email accounts as well.

Watched the latest Amanda Knox documentary and didn’t really learn anything new. I always thought she was as innocent as Casey Anthony is guilty. Italian laws are more screwed up than the US, though I’m sure part of the reason she got screwed is that she’s American and female. Based on what forensics they did have, it’s obvious that the black guy from the Ivory Coast did it. Is Italy like the US in that they’d rather pin shit on the white guy so that the black guy (guilty or not) doesn’t go crying racism, an accusation most judges prefer not to have to deal with?

Went to cash some checks at Raley’s and then to the dollar store. It’s fun to browse around there every now and then. I got some incense (the stuff is awful), lipstick and candy.

Just stopped to go over my eyeglass prescription. I already miss my big monitor AND my desk space. I have one of those deep corner desks, and having to pull the smaller monitor closer to me means I lose a lot of desk space behind it. Gonna order a pair of mid-range single visions and a pair of standard bifocal transitions. I thought round bifocals were standard, but apparently, they’re not. Transitions also can’t be put in round ones, and I’m very sensitive to light, so those are a must.

Aly deleted or changed her Twit handle. Gee, what a surprise, huh? Fucking lying coward. Again, on with my life… without her.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 1, 2016 It was 69° in here when I got up, so I turned the heat on to take the chill out. How I wish we could go to Maui and not come back till April! Or Florida.

Went to Walmart to pick up our glasses, and never again will we use them! They put the wrong prescription on the left side of Tom’s glasses and he had to return them, and while mine are adequate, I see fine through the upper part of the left side, but the upper part of the right side is a touch blurry.

Also, you don’t realize just how much transition lenses help keep things from being too bright outdoors till you no longer have them. They just weren’t an option in round bifocals, but at least now I’m not “swimming.” I hated the dizzying effects of progressives and having to look through a precise spot within the lenses just to see a particular object. Gonna use the old progressives/transitions for outdoors only.

I was going to put Cappy in a smaller cage but then realized that that would be ridiculous when half a dozen rats could easily occupy each of the two floors of the big cage. Being the bully that he is, Cappy’s upstairs while the other 3 are downstairs. This way, if anyone’s toes or tails get nipped at through the rungs of the ramp that’s hooked to the underside of the upper level to separate the levels, it’ll be the bully’s. Been there almost 24 hours, though, and all is fine. They go nose to nose and sniff at each other through the bars, but that’s it. I’m amazed at how badly Simon wants to beat his ass since he’s the shyest of the rats.

We signed up for a rat bedding subscription to be delivered monthly. I also grabbed some other things they’ll need with the new setup… hammocks and wood chews.

The Twenties were only back 3 days when they started up with the service obsession. This time it was a few hours of door slamming from an AC/heat company truck. What will I be in for next week?

Aly’s still playing the “no Wi-Fi” game since tweeting to her. Convenient, huh? I deactivated that account for good. New month, new me. That new me includes never again contacting the phony liar.

Had a dream that Dr. A was inspecting the ridges in my nails.

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