California Paradise

Met up with another Runner. Real newbie little fucker, I think he's from the area, though he's not saying. Calls himself E. Seriously, what the ever-loving fuck is it with people going by one-letter names. Fucking hell, be a little creative, if you're not going to be using your real name.

I guess I shouldn't bitch too much. He's like... thirteen or fourteen. Weedy little brat. We don't normally do handouts, but kid looked like he could use a shower and a roof over his head for a night or two. Fuck, this is just going to bring more trouble down on our heads.

It doesn't help matters that's he's a filmer. Always got his goddamn camera out and running. Must eat batteries like hell. I asked, and he said he's not posting them anywhere, though he got really fucking twitchy when I was checking his things. Well, twitchier.

Harls met him earlier today on her way back home from work, and recognized the fucking symbol he has drawn on the shoulder of his jacket. Another fucking hoodie. Anyway, does anyone even fucking know what that fucking over-used, over-present symbol means? It just attracts attention, in my opinion. If you want to fucking lie low, you lie low. You don't go drawing shit all over. Anyway, I was suspicious at first, but the kid's harmless.

That's part of why I suspect he's a newb at this shit. Doubt he'd last long out there either way. The stuff he's got on him's good quality shit. Video camera, good quality backpack, fairly nice shoes. Had a suspicion that he's one of these "proxies" I keep hearing so much shit about., but this kid couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag, and you should've seen his face when he saw Harls starting to get sick again.

Yeah, she's been reasonable, but she's been worse-off at night recently than any other time.

Anyway, either that or he's a really fucking good actor. Doubt it, even in this town. He's asleep right now, taking over the extra bed. Snores like a fucking chainsaw, too. And yeah, he's got the goddamn camera up and running still, filming himself sleeping. How fucking ridiculous can you get, especially in a room with other people?

Sorry, been trying to work on the cussing, but it's obviously not sticking. It's just pretty much the only way for me to express the level of frustration and exasperation that's currently my usual state of being over the last few months, at least through text. I don't really cuss quite this much when actually talking to people in person. This is just me not bothering with the filters needed for face-to-face shit.

-Darts

Also, the fuck is up with the formatting on this post?

You Drive Me Wild

She told me she loved me first. Who'd've thought? Dartsy in all her harsh words and cool exterior and torn up jeans... would be the first to move from "I like you very, very much" to "I love you" first. I'm not surprised.

It was at a show, one she was playing with her band, where she dragged me up to sing with her. I'm not a great singer, I don't know why that kept happening, but I had fun and it really made her smile. I'm not going to complain about making her grin.

Between a cover of 'You Drive Me Wild' and one of Darts' original punk ballads, she tugged me over to her and pulled me down to whisper it straight in my ear. Needless to say I was utterly caught off guard and immediately pulled an unexpected stage dive.

After the show I had to assure her that it had been a good response, not a run away forever sort of response.

And then I got to assure her... that I loved her too. Even if it's not conventional or traditional and my parents were giving me scrutinous looks out of the corner of their eyes when they thought I wasn't looking. "It's just a phase" was a popular saying in our house, even though I know damn well and better.

I love Darcy too. And it's a feeling that makes me soar even when I'm feeling at my lowest. Just felt like saying.

~Harls

Waitin' For The Night

Made a pretty good haul today. It's actually pretty fucking fun to watch people while I play, all propped up on a stool and shit. They don't really see me as they pass by, sometimes. The ones that do, I kind of wonder what they see. Probably assume I'm just another homeless street bitch.

I had to go get my leg checked out yesterday, and it's still not healing quite right. I'll probably have a fucking limp for as long as I live. However long that is. We don't have the time or the money to get it reset, besides, they'd have to rebreak the bone and shit at this point. Like hell I'm going through that, especially right now.

Not with money tight like it is. I've been bringing in a reasonable amount every so often, but like I said, at times it's like people don't even see me. Like I'm in some kind of fog or some shit. That or the people around here are just fucking self-absorbed and need to pull their heads out of their asses.

Harls has been sick more often than not recently, though at least she's been able to work. Makes me wish I could hold a fucking job, especially with her always looking like she's seeing things out of the corner of her eye or some shit.

Been thinking a lot about home. Harls says she doesn't feel right talking about my folks and Delia, so I guess maybe I should. Fuck it, I don't even know if I should. They don't deserve this shit, and they've got enough to deal with when it comes to shit.

-Darts

Edit: Harls says I should elaborate. Very well, Miz Harlene.

I'm the older of two kids. Dellybird's got Cerebral Palsy, so she's in and out of the hospital all the time and really, she's not going to ever be able to fend for herself. Mom and dad have to focus on her a lot. I don't hold it against her. Delia is love. Her smile is like sunshine, to be completely fucking cliche about it.

She's the reason I went with Harls so easily, beyond loving my blondie girl. Delia can't get dragged into this shit. Ever.

Blackmail

So I said that most people reacted really well to me coming out at school. And that's the trust. Most people did react... really well. At least all the people that mattered reacted well. The squad, my lab partners, most of my teachers. It really didn't change too much, but there were a few...

This is a story that's not easy to tell... and it's been a long time coming. It's just something that needs to be told. I need to... tell it. To get it off my chest. And I don't know where to start, not really. I think, maybe the middle. Because that first paragraph that I just wrote... it feels wrong.

So onto the middle bit.

It starts in a hallway. Between second and third period. And I've just gone and gotten my hair cut and dyed and it looks wonderful. I'd just gotten my results from my English midterm and I was practically glowing with the praise I'd gotten. I'd been having a really good week as it turns out.

Of course, when something is going so phenomenally well, it's only bound to go wrong sooner or later.

So the first bell rings and Dartsy passes me for our typical sneaky kiss between classes and then she's off again. And I'm headed my way too my poetry class, but then about half way there, I run into the only other person I've ever dated. And Andrew... wasn't looking like his week was going quite as well as mine was. And then the second bell was ringing. And we were all late.

Which I, dumbly, pointed out to him.

Apparently he didn't care so much about attendance. And apparently neither did his friends. Apparently he had taken my coming out quite personally. And he had chosen to express that... just then. Very physically.

You know how everyone always bashes hall monitors? Everyone says they're geeky, points and laughs at their pocket protectors, cackles when they see the packed lunches. Hall monitors catch a lot of slack. But I'd never been so grateful to hear Suzy the Sleuth's shrill whistle. Me and my bruised ribs, my broken wrist, my broken nose and black eye. I think maybe I had some head trauma too?

It's hard to say.

But I was really glad to see Suzy. She saved me from... a lot worse than I got, I'll just say that.

Dartsy wanted to show Andrew and his ignorant friends what was right and wrong, but I didn't let her. That would make things worse. And I'd already called the family lawyer and arranged to fix the situation the right way. It helped.

Kinda.

...And then I got to prematurely come out to my parents. Their reaction was... better than Andrew's at least.

I don't think I want to keep typing this story. I'm tired. And still not feeling well. And we still can't move because Dartsy's still stubborn.

~Harls

Gotta Get Out Tonight

Okay, sorry I haven't fucking posted in a bit. It's been an ordeal focusing at times. Anyway, to the fucking point, tonight was... nice. We had a little date, talked about shit. It was actually fun, even with fucking shadows in the edges of everything.

Sitting there, talking and listening to music over dinner, I couldn't help but think again that Harls has the most gorgeous eyes, all bright and ice blue, not even dulled by the sickness she's been having to deal with over these last months. Legs that go on for years, and a body to die for... Or to kill for. She deserves better than this shithole. I have to figure out something. though... I suppose people are going to tell me there's nothing to fucking figure out. Just misery and fucking death. Well, they can shove that up their ass and light it.

We're still not moving on. My leg's healing slower than it should, and she's fluctuating into sickness too often. I know I should just stay still and let myself heal if I can, but I just can't stay still. It's not hurting as much these days, but I know it's not healing right. I can't just stay still and let the chickadee do all the fucking work to support us. Not with the way things are.

So here I sit, watching the window, watching the shadows move on the pavement, and loving a person who doesn't deserve to have dealt with any of this bullshit. Fuck moping and wangsting, though. It's a waste of fucking time and energy, and I can think of much better uses of those.

I Wanna be Where the Boys Are

 ...How many times have I restarted this post now? Four? Five? Nine attempts now? Do I even know what I really want to say? Maybe that's delirium preventing me from putting things in proper order. The sickness was a hard round this time. It's made the story I was going to tell days ago blur in my head.

 I wish it weren't so severe on me. Darts would worry less. And that would be healthier for her.

She's always worrying about my well-being, screw her own, who needs to be alive to tend to someone else anyway?

Just like her waiting on me to decide when it was a good time to come out as a couple. She really didn't care. At all. Just so long as we were happy in our in between moments - and we were quite happy in the bathroom stalls, between lockers in the halls, under the bleachers - then she's happy. Can I just mention that assemblies were the best thing since sliced bread?

But, you know, eventually the secrets, the between the-sheets-unseen-scenes, the hiding, wore me down. I wanted to share my joy. I wanted to explain why my Saturday nights were always "occupied" for my social calendar. I wanted to rub it in people's faces. I wanted to cause controversy. I especially wanted a bad punk band to back me while I screamed out my passions on the school's rooftops.

But then if I did that, I'd risk getting suspended. And though I felt the need to take the risk of coming out, I've never been that much of a risk taker.

The RaRa's took it surprisingly well. I guess having a lesbian on the cheer team is sort of a novelty or something? Or maybe they were better friends than I was giving them credit for. There are a few potential reasons on that one, but whatever it was I was grateful for the lack of dissenting opinions on the team. Of course, there was one, but she doesn't warrant mention so much right now.

It made me happy to be able to talk about things. Suddenly I was ten times cooler with dudes. Not because I would make out with Darts openly pretty much anywhere, though that was cool too, but because we totally compared notes on how we'd spend hours pleasing our partners.

Dirty little secrets.

They never stay secrets long. But while it was just at school, it was good. You know?

I'm back on my feet, in case you didn't catch that bit. Didn't lose my job too! Twice the win.

~Harls

Little Lost Girls

Of all the fucking luck... She was fine yesterday, right? Harls, that is. All chirpy and chipper as hell, waking me up with singing and dancing around. Fucking adorable. And no, no matter what she's posted or going to post, I don't blame her for any of this shit. I chose to go with her. That's not the point though, is it? It's fucking nice to have little moments of happy.

Too bad that got thrown in the crapper today. She's sick as fuck again, coughing up blood, puking, weak as a baby, the works. I had to call her bitch-ass withered-tit cunt of a fucking manager today and tell her she couldn't come in. Contrary to what you might think, I was fucking nice about it, even though she was a bitch. Didn't want to get her fired, after all. Yeah, oh, Darts being nice. Anyone reading this probably thinks I'm a cunt, and I know it.

Well, I am. Anyway, I'm taking care of Harls right now, as best I can. This shit happens. Kind of cycles, though it's been getting worse over the last month or two. And of course it definitely gets worse under certain circumstances.

Treat the symptoms as best we can. I fucking hate seeing her like this. It's not fair that she takes the brunt of this shit. It's not. But it always seems to happen that way. It's always less for me. But I take care of her, and that's what fucking matters. We'll get through this, just like the other times.

It's okay... We'll be fucking fine, at least to an extent. She'll be fine tomorrow or the next day. That's just the way these things go. We've ridden it out before. Until then, I get to be the sexiest fucking nurse in ripped up jeans ever, right?

-Darts

Thunder

It's the spell that I'm under.

 You know Dartsy's not this aggressive, paranoid, angry, defensive bitch all the time. Even though it's really, absofuckinglutely adorable when she is. She's not always up on her haunches with a stick up her bum. I promise. In fact, it's like as not my fault she's all uppity like she is now.

I know, I know. She'd reject that idea outright, but we all know it's me that started this. It's me. (Don't let her denial of the fact confuse you.)

I can recall times when she'd just... when it was just her and me and an empty house that was way too big for just the two of us. It was before... before he'd come back for me. When I was still blissfully unaware of the fact that nightmares can cross over with reality and one uncle's madness can become his niece's in a short amount of time...

But that's something I want to save for another time. I don't have to tell it yet, so I'd really prefer not to. This post is meant for something... softer.

I see lightning crash.


Soft things and soft times - like her fingertips following my skin from forehead to the very tips of my toes, not even taking advantage of the fact that I'm fully exposed for her. Like when our heads were light enough for us to waste time of that sort of physicality.

She waited. She never forced me to do anything I didn't want to. She asked every step of the way. She made sure I was comfortable. She treated me right. She still treats me right. We just don't have... all the time anymore for it.

When she finally took advantage of the fact that I was just bare skin under her touch, it felt like it had been forever. It felt like she'd been worshiping and asking for permission since the beginning of time (or puberty, probably just since the beginning of my hormonal period in puberty).

And you know how people say you're not ready, you're never ready, you can't just give something like that up willy-nilly to the first girl that offers? Well, they lied. I knew damn well that I was ready and that the first girl who'd offered... well she was the one I'd wanted to give it to. And she was there for me. She wasn't there for her, but for me.

Oh how our love flashes.

And you know another thing 'they/the general populous/the ignorance of the earth' says is that I'm still a virgin. That because she's not a man, it doesn't count. But... it was the purest emotion I've ever felt. And it was freedom. I've never been so close to flight... to bliss... as compared to when I'm with my Darcy. She's soft. For me, underneath her prickly porcupine bum, she's as soft as a bed of down feathers.

~Harls

American Nights

Fucking hell... Well, we're at the same hotel. It's probably fucking weird to some people who know anything about this shit that we are. Well, at the moment, we can't fucking move much. I wend an like the little idiot I am, got my leg broken over December. Badly. A lot of the cash we had has gone toward making sure my leg doesn't fuck up.

So I can't really work even odd jobs to get by. I can't even fucking shoplift, not that I'd really want to. Harls is working at this seedy little diner on top of the money we've nicked from her parents accounts, or what's left of it. It's been fucking months since her cards got cancelled, after all. I'm obviously busking to get extra money. No job would really hire a chick with a bum leg, unless it's a receptionist shit, stuff I can do sitting down. And that, I don't look the part. Guitar on a street corner. It's a bit nervy, what with the tall fuck having the possibility of showing up, but hell, I've done worse.

But yeah, it's been pretty quiet recently. Figures in the peripheral vision, weird dreams, being sick as fuck.... Yeah, I'm cursing a lot, sorry. It's a bad habit when I'm stressed. Which is pretty fucking much every day right now. Probably going to work on it a bit, just to make this thing more readable.

Honestly, there's a few other reasons why we're not moving more, including money. I mean, I could street it, and Harls would adapt, but I don't want her to have to deal with that. Especially with the way things have been going recently. In general, there's sometimes anywhere from a few days to a month or two between major events where life and luck decide to take a royal shit on us.

Honestly, there's not much else we can do at times beyond survive and try to get by. So that's what we do. The hotel's not that bad. We've got a tv, which is usually on when we're here, if muted. Just as a precaution... Not that it would help, but it's nice to have a little warning sometimes.

Our neighbors are already moving around. Holy fuck, it's three in the fucking morning, people! Go to fucking bed or something. Assholes.

Okay, seriously, I'm going to try and work on that, at least on here. Maybe. When I'm more rested, which is pretty much never.

I'm out.

-Darts