#I won’t show them today but I did make some significant changes that I won’t show just yet.

[i-really-like-phrogs]

Here’s some process pics for my current Betty piece! She was originally a repaint of a much older piece, that was only meant to be her face. Well… she evolved into her own painting!

Oh! And for those wondering what the original looked like…

Yeah… Yikes!

[acidinduceddaydreams]

First Real Love with Skz

Skz x reader who was in a toxic relationship before them

Synopsis: In which you experience love, the real kind, for the first time.

Warnings: major tw for trauma in terms of mental and physical violence done by a significant other. Please don’t read if this triggers you.

a/n : this fic was my baby for a long time. Now it’s yours, please look after it. I pray it brings some comfort to you!🫶🏼

Chan:

He feels honored that you choose him to be apart of your life.

Doesn’t pry too much when you bring up your past. If you want to tell him you will and he’s content with that.

He finds you so incredibly intoxicating. He can’t believe that someone would ever treat you badly. He would fight tooth and nail to make sure you’re always happy.

Literally so in love with your more childlike/ whimsical view of the world now that you two are together. Your personality definitely changed for the better once you met him and realized that being safe should be a prerequisite in a relationship.

Minho:

Doesn’t ask about your past relationship much. Mostly relies on you telling him about it when you feel comfortable enough.

Absolutely at your service!!! If you’re having particularly unpleasant or difficult feelings or are in your own head he’s at your beck and call. Whether that’s cooking for you, feeding you (which you won’t admit you like) or even leaving you alone for a bit.

The babies (his cats) are by your side 24/7 to ground you and get you out of your head because “ they wouldn’t want their mom to be sad.”

Changbin:

Cannot fathom the idea of someone hurting you in any way whatsoever without wanting to beat them up.

Unlike Minho, Changbin will not leave you alone if you’re having a particularly bad day. He thinks you’re so precious so he will never leave your side even in a particularly bad situation.

Binnie gives the best cuddles!!!! I am 100% convinced. Cuddling is a must! It’s like free therapy. (He, himself is free therapy but wbk) his hugs and cuddles make you forget about what’s going on in your head bc binnie’s cuddles make everything better.

Hyunjin:

He’s appalled that someone could treat another human with disrespect and violence let alone you!

He’s your number one fan in everything you do. Celebrates your small wins just as grandly as the big ones. Oh you ate breakfast today. Suddenly your name and “I’m so proud of you” is all he knows how to say.

Paints with you. Yk when you put the canvases parallel to each other and paint something for the other person. Yeah you guys do that all the time as a grounding technique but also just as a way to show love to one another.

Jisung:

He’s so good at reading body language!!!!!! He is absolutely crushed when things like holding your hand or stretching his hand out to touch your cheek make you flinch, not because he’s mad or angry at you but rather at the person who ever dared to treat you this way.

Wdym personal space? Hannie’s never heard of it. He’s so good at getting you out of you head. He knows what triggers you and sometimes know when something will trigger you before you do.

He’s so attentive bc why wouldn’t he be when he has you to look after. This boy loves you so much and he shows it every day.

Felix:

Bakes for you!!!!!! Sometimes you two bake together but he usually does it in advance to you telling him you need a little extra love today.

So in love with you. Tries to show you the beauty that you are because you haven’t felt beautiful till you met him. “Oh baby you look even more gorgeous than you did yesterday, I didn’t even know that was possible.”

You remind him of sunshine and he reminds you of the sun. Clearly neither of you can exist without the other.

Seungmin:

He is super playful and witty naturally but he tones down the more mocking side for your particularly hard days. He loves you in ways that you didn’t know you could be loved.

On regular days though you two share a similar sense of humor. He loves that about you. Never lets it go too far though.

Absolutely a sucker for you. The boys tease him for being soft for you but he doesn’t care. You’re his baby and he doesn’t care who sees that.

Jeongin:

This boy is so whipped for you. He always listens to you even if what you have to say is something he has no idea about. It feels so amazing to have someone listen to you. To truly listen. He makes it look easy even though listening and not interrupting is quite hard.

He’s not a big fan of skinship but your hands are always within his and he loves it. He’s genuinely so feral for it but you don’t need to know that.

He’ll make sure to show you how someone treats someone they love every day. He’s so attentive and that makes going to him whether it’s with a problem or just to talk so easy because you know there’s no judgment from him.

[jodilin65]

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 2000 Tom got me a list of holidays throughout 2004, so I made a holiday file so I can have them available to add to calendars when I make them up.

I forgot to add a wheel mouse to my list of non-doll stuff. I may have that mural today! Tom told me yesterday we could look for one at the hardware store we’re going to this morning, but I have a feeling they won’t carry them. It’d be just my shit luck, too. Especially when he’ll have plenty of time to put it up since he’s gonna be taking time off during the time mom stays with us. We’re gonna head out of here around 9:00 and go to the hardware store first. Then we’ll go to Mary’s, help load the TV into the truck, and then head back here. I got the space in my office clear for the entertainment center. They’re also giving Tom a metal file cabinet which he’ll keep outside for his tools.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 2000 Boy, this rat is full of surprises! Ratsy, I mean. Yesterday he was panting and seemed to be so weak like Scuttles did before he died. He looks like he lost some weight, too. However, when I got up at 4:30, he was upstairs! How’d this weak old thing manage to climb up to that tube?!

The phone company never did need to come out to the house to fix the phone. It’s working again. At least, for now it is.

Good news about Mary: it looks like the cancer is contained to her throat, so all they’re going to need to do (hopefully!) is just radiation therapy. Also, Dave’s mom will be in around October 16th, so that’s when Ma will stay here unless she changes her mind. She’ll be here a week or two, I guess.

It’s just about October 1st, my weight deadline. Since it’s been over 2 months since there have been any significant changes in my weight, and since I’m still yo-yo-ing between 112-116, I’m going to have to write off losing any more weight as the impossible dream it is, like it or not, and just hang onto what I’ve got.

Speaking of dreams, why do Doe and Art have to casually butt into my dreams so often? Ugh! I get so sick of them popping into my dreams whenever the fuck they feel like it. They intrude upon my dreams as if nothing ever happened. We all live together in most of the dreams. Last night I was washing our laundry like I would as a teenager. We had those crappy stackables like we had in Phoenix. They nearly overflowed, and the dryer only ran if I held the button down. When they came in from being out somewhere, I mentioned my frustrations about it to Art. Doe seemed to be in her own little world. I said I was sick of having to depend on something that didn’t work half the time and would do laundry by hand. Art said he could fix it and I was like, fine, but put up a clothesline so I can hang dry clothes when the dryer conks out.

Once the sun comes up I turn the AC off and turn the fan on continuous run, then I opened most of the windows to let the fresh air in. Once the sun really starts rising, I shut the east side windows. I have the retreat, bedroom and kitchen windows open now, and it is beautiful! It’s dead quiet too, the way a remote country area should be. It’s been quiet and it’s hard to believe that for a while there, I was hearing music nearly every day. I couldn’t get any peace in Phoenix with the windows shut, so it’s nice to be able to open them and not have those fucking freeloaders screaming, bouncing balls, and blaring music right outside the windows. I can’t fully feel the wonders of not having those sick fucks just a few feet away, though, cuz they are still a part of my life. It sort of dampens the mood, knowing that although I can’t see or hear them this doesn’t mean I’m free of them. I’ll never be free of them. I remember how shocked and disbelieving I was when the blacks moved. Meaning, I just didn’t feel like it was over. Well, obviously it was far from over.

I don’t usually watch talk shows these days, but I was doing things to keep myself awake to push my schedule around faster, and what I saw on Oprah was really scary. It’s sooo damn easy to get the most innocent people convicted of all kinds of things. All you have to do is swear they did whatever. This segment was on capital punishment and innocent people who spent years on death row before they finally were set free. I’m still for capital punishment, though. Better to fry 9 guilty people and 1 innocent person than to let just 1 guilty person go free. What’s scary is how many incompetent lawyers there are out there, how you can get convicted with no physical evidence tying you to the crime, and worst of all, just by someone’s word for it, and it’s usually not the word of a reliable witness, either. I’d be going down for these blacks even if my prints hadn’t been on the mail, and even if I’d had someone else make the call from a pay phone or something. All the bitch has to do is say I did it. What do I do when they fuck with someone that reacts differently than I did? What do I do when someone kills one of them and they point the finger at me? Even if I had an airtight alibi, which would be hard to do when you’re home all the time, the cops would still insist I had something to do with it and so would they. Well, I just hope that when they push the wrong person too far and when that person snaps and harms them, they know who it is and that they finger that person and that person only. I also hope I’ll be somewhere like Helen’s or the dentist’s so I’ll have an alibi when it happens. Assholes like them may live long, healthy lives, but at the same time, they’re living on the edge. Especially the blacks.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 2000 Got my weight back down to 115 pounds. Guess I got a bit watery, but I should also cut my calories for a while. Yes, my metabolism’s faster, but I shouldn’t be doing 1500-2000 calories for too many days in a row.

The incompetent fucks at the phone company have really been fucking with our service. It’s hit or miss as to whether or not the phone will be dead when we go to make calls or leave messages. I told Tom he should just live with it, knowing how poorly people take to complaints, but he got fed up and called them. They say it’ll be fixed by tomorrow, but that’s what they’ve said a million times before. I know each time he calls and bitches that our service is going to get worse. Meanwhile, instead of leaving messages, since I know he may not be able to retrieve them, I’ve been typing them. Especially if I’ve got more to say than can fit on the memo board. The things I usually tell him are trivial stuff, like about the rats, etc.

Not only am I still finding tons of those annoying black bugs, but I also found a big, creepy spider earlier. Hope we can bomb soon.

Mom needed around 50 stitches the other day after she scraped her leg with the car door. That’s one sharp car door! She said Mary and Dave were out talking about whatever right before they were getting ready to head out. This is when Ma started to get into the car and cut herself. They rushed her to urgent care. Now all we have to do is hope it’ll heal quickly enough without getting infected. They gave her antibiotics.

When Tom went to see her yesterday, she gave him a bag with lots of material for me. Most of it’s dull, but what do you expect from an old lady? Bright shiny colors? I’m still happy to have it, though.

Another Ashton-Drake catalog came yesterday, and since there are too many dolls I want, I reevaluated the ‘stuff to buy’ list and narrowed it down to just 6 non-doll things I want to get, excluding household stuff like awnings, pressure tanks, etc. Besides the fire Indian, since we don’t know what she looks like yet, I want a Latina, an Indian, and a bride.

I knocked off the retreat table from the list. Unless I really get into sewing, which I can’t picture, we don’t need a table other than what’s already in there for that room. I almost knocked off the water lamp, but I did knock off the bedroom mural. The more I thought about it, the more I think it’ll look funny in there and throw the balance off there. Especially with the way that room’s laid out. An open room like the living room, though, will look great muraled. I knocked off the mattress pad, cuz they probably don’t make any built-in ones as soft as I like anyway. We’ll just stick to pads. Besides sewing stuff and clothes, I only want the living room mural, a CD changer, a tree for the dining corner, new towels, exercise gloves, and a water lamp.

I’d still like the doll kit and maybe some plastic dust covers which they sell. I can get 5 covers for the cheapies for $20. I don’t need their record book. I keep records electronically. After having time to think about the dolls I see in a catalog, some wear off me, some grow on me, and some keep their first impressions. I still want Marisa first (Hispanic), then Star Dancer (Indian), then a bride (white) called With This Ring, as in with this ring I thee wed…

Knocking some of the things off the list will save money. Also, by the time I get these 3 dolls, there’ll be 10 more I want, so wanting 6 non-doll things is better than 10.

Here’s an idea: If I get $35 for my birthday unless it’s needed for bills, groceries, or some kind of necessity, I’ll combine it with whatever pennies are left over from Tom’s electric razor loot, and get the living room mural! That’ll knock it down to just 5 non-doll things, and then I can maybe get 1 of the 3 dolls I want for Christmas! It always goes without saying, though, that the necessities come first.

Later…

Tom said that he warned the phone company that we weren’t about to pay for anything we couldn’t use. Therefore, we’ll just go cellular if we have to. Anyway, they’re supposed to come out to work outside the house today. Tom said I can just ignore them if they knock, cuz they don’t need to come in. No prob. At least I shouldn’t have to worry about them waking me up. I was up over 18 hours yesterday and slept till nearly midnight, so I shouldn’t be needing to go to bed till late afternoon. If we do drop the main phone, I’ll give Paula the cell number.

Star Dancer’s a nice doll, but I think I’ll put her on hold and go after Marisa and the bride first.

Dave’s mom is coming to visit from New York in October, so Tom’s mom may actually stay with us for a week or two, believe it or not.

Forgot to mention that Ratsy was out yesterday morning. I couldn’t believe it! He didn’t run around like he used to, though. It was still quite an unexpected and pleasant surprise for the old, arthritic guy!

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 2000 We are getting the big screen TV, after all! I didn’t get up till 7:30, and I guess Tom had just gone to bed, cuz he left me a note saying he spoke to Mary. Cool! I think I’ll take the entertainment center in my office, cuz it’s just not suitable for the mice. Especially when I want to have more cages set up.

I both dread and look forward to tomorrow. I’m looking forward to it because I want to find out what’s going on with Mary, but I dread it, knowing it’s not going to be good news. I’m not only back to 115 pounds, but to 116! What the fuck did I do to gain more than 5 pounds back, and so fast? I was stuck, but now that I’m not, and now that I took a water pill, perhaps I’ll drop back down, but why the fuck can’t I just fucking lose 15 more pounds and keep it off?! I’m sick of this yo-yo rut I’ve been in!

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 2000 Maybe not that predictable. I actually have a light flow and would count this as being a period.

I also had a vibe saying I’ll need a full hysterectomy when I’m between 36-37. This fits. I mean, it’s something God would do, but why in my mid-30s and not when I was 20? Obviously, he wanted me to feel teased by his not cumming, even though I knew deep down since I was a little girl that I’d never have a kid. How do I feel about having a hysterectomy? Well, again, I don’t like my decisions being made for me, and I don’t like having more and more options and doors slammed shut on me, but decision-making is also hard for me because I’m not used to it. So, it’s one less decision I have to make (having invitro) cuz I’m just so undecided, and I have been for the last few years. Meaning, I’m not dead set against a kid, and I’m not dead set for one, either. I feel that if I never try for invitro, I’ll wish I did, and if I do, I’ll wish I didn’t. So, one less tough choice to make. Also, a hysterectomy would end Tom’s fears, but that doesn’t mean he’d start cumming. He’s not going to do anything that’d admit I was right about him being scared. Periods are a bitch, so that’s a plus there; not having to deal with them. So, knowing I’m not fated to have a kid, knowing I don’t want one bad enough like I used to – I’ll take a hysterectomy if that’s what I’m in for. As long as I don’t have any serious suffering to do along the way – sure, why not? I don’t mind cutting out on periods a decade or so early.

I cut out on Ratsy’s wheel. He no longer uses it to wheel with. He’s just too weak. He only uses it to sit on, and he got his foot caught between the rungs again for the fifth time. So I chained it up high in the cage, out of his reach, for Houdini to sit in, but he seldom wheels. He prefers getting his exercise by running around loose.

I forgot to mention that the renters were hammering at midnight last night. Yeah, that’s an Arizonan for you. I was lying in bed reading when I heard it, but just for 5 seconds. I can’t imagine what the fuck they’d be hammering at that hour, and Dan’s place was too dark to be the one doing it. I figured it was the renters, cuz when I looked out back at midnight the front light was on. An hour later it was off.

I printed out all the calendars for Mary, Dave, mom, and the ones for us, grids and all. This is because the phone’s so fucked up he can’t download the holiday list I wanted. If he manages to, though, I’ll just write them in on the calendar we’ll keep in the kitchen by hand.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 2000 Wow, it’s only just after midnight and it’s already down to 64 degrees out there. For the first time this year, I can really feel winter starting to set in. Thank God! It’s still hot in the daytime, and I still don’t miss the bitter cold of New England, but after having 8-9 months of nothing but intense heat, it’s nice for a change. I don’t mind a couple of months of a little shiver after sweating my ass off for so many damn months!

It’s been days now since I’ve seen Ratsy climb up to the tube. How sad it is seeing him get so old and feeble. Still making funny noises, too.

Later…

We decided to get rid of the Internet. Why pay for something we can’t use since all they do is crash us or not let us online? Besides, the extra money wouldn’t hurt. We still don’t know how much more these freeloaders are going to cost us. It’s one thing for me to go down on account of those who harassed me for years, but another to do it while we’re broke!

I didn’t run heat last night, but if it had gotten a few degrees cooler I would have. Remember, temperatures feel cooler than they do in the east out here. 80 degrees is miserably hot in New England, but here, 80 degrees is quite comfy with how dry it is. So, when it got down to 74 degrees in here early in the morning, it felt like it was in the 50s.

Although I slept from around 8:00–5:30, I was still tired when I got up. I guess it’s because I’ve been waking up constantly throughout my sleep. Hopefully, if the freeloaders will ever let me go, I’ll sleep better. But until this shit is over and until I find out how much more I gotta pay for something I should never have had to pay for in the beginning, I’m pretty stressed out. Anyway, I ended up lying down this evening. Tom said I was out cold for nearly two hours, but I thought I had barely dozed off and that it had only been for about 45 minutes. Nerves have a way of really beating one down!

As I figured would be the case by today, that little gush I had last night is gone. I’ve tapered down to just a few spots here and there. At least that much is predictable. So now I’ll have to deal with the expense and hassle of wearing a liner till I get another half-assed flow in a week or two.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 24, 2000 And now it’s been exactly one year since we left Freeloaderville! God, how did my life come to be such a mess despite having such a quieter area and nicer house?! Well, anything’s better than living with Doe and Art or Brattleboro or Valleyhead or Oswego Street, the NHA, PHX, etc.

I decided to highlight all my entry dates in yellow. It shows up the best, even on paper. On paper, all the other colors are much darker than they appear on screen, making the text hard to read.

All our calendars are made up, except for the date grids. This is because I’m waiting for Tom to get me that holiday list. He said he couldn’t get online most of the day cuz our wonderfully competent phone company just had to go play with the lines again, and the phone was out all day. Anyway, for our 4 calendars, which will go in each of our offices, plus the kitchen area, plus the guest room, I’ve used a wide variety of pics. Pet pics, scenery, wildlife, flowers, etc.

Believe it or not, I’ve added a little bit of floor work to my workout routine. I still think floor work alone can only get you so far unless you’re old, weak and feeble, or some 200-pound mama, but it helps, in addition to the Bowflex exercises. I’m only doing my lower body, though. It’s just something extra to do to give extra help to those more problem areas.

Houdini was so cute earlier. I made us a tortilla treat, and he jumped up in my lap as soon as I sat down on the floor, trying desperately to grab a piece before I could get the chance to tear him off a piece and hand it to him. Just like the last time I did a rollover, he’s adapted his schedule to mine. Guess that rat likes me a lot! Ratsy was having trouble breathing and was making these funny noises. Tom said he doubts he has much longer to go, but every time I think that he surprises me with living on and on. He’s a toughie!

Daytime weather’s still hot, but evenings and mornings have become pleasant, even chilly. I won’t need any AC for the rest of the night until the sun comes up. Another week or two, and we’ll be turning the AC off and using heat at night.

Later…

What the fuck is going on? Just what the fuck is this? I was sitting there when all of a sudden I felt wet down there. Well, it turns out I’ve got my period, yet I just had one, although it was half-assed, a couple of weeks ago. This is more than just spots too, although I don’t expect it’ll last long. I expect it’ll drop to spots and that I’ll spot for a week or two till I get another half-assed flow. Just like last time, it started instantly, in the middle of my day. The only thing that’s different this time around is that I have no cramps, whereas the last time I had tons of cramps for so little bleeding. Usually, periods start in your sleep. What is this? Wacky hormones? Menopause setting in early? Something else?

There is some good news. I hit down at 111 pounds! And coincidentally, I recently had a vibe of hitting down at 109 pounds. Finally! I thought I’d never quit bouncing between 112-115 and my not having any vibes or dreams about losing more weight for seemingly so long, was rather discouraging. Anyway, my metabolism’s really speeded up. I’ve been consuming 1500-2000 calories a day lately. I’m starting to feel more and more like my old self like when I was in my 20s. The one who could eat whatever she wanted without worrying about it, although she certainly eats less junk nowadays. The one whose body spit out and rejected calories, for the most part, rather than gladly taking them in to store them as fat. I’m almost a new woman, too! My coffee with sugar in it is almost gone. I’ll be a sugar-free woman in no time!

Despite my lack of desire for my limp-dicked husband, I kind of couldn’t help feeling somewhat bummed and humiliated by his apparent lack of interest in me as I paraded around him naked. He’s had plenty of opportunities too, day after day, but he just doesn’t want me. Does he not want me, or does he not want sex, though? Guess I’ll never know. I may still have a fat face, neck and ass, and I may still be a bit thick-waisted with hips still a little too wide, but I could be worse. I know I don’t look great; certainly not like I did when we first met (although he tells me I’m beautiful), but I’m not an ugly blimp, either.

It got all the way down to the low 60s yesterday before dawn, and I don’t expect we’ll need the AC for the rest of the night. It’s not even 9:00 and it’s already dropped to 77 degrees out there.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 2000 She got me. Yeah, but this time it wasn’t the black bitch. It was Doe. Once again, how wonderful it is to know I never have to see my parents again or ever be abused by them again, but what a shame it is to know I have to live with the memories. Memories that pop into my head spontaneously. It doesn’t matter what mood I’m in, where I am, what I’m doing; they can come to mind any time, any day, any place. And believe me, the memories are almost as detrimental to my mental health as the actual events were. They really cause a lot of stress, anxiety, sadness, and sometimes, still a bit of anger, too. How one can hurt over something that happened nearly 25 years ago? Telling myself it’s done and over with, I can’t change the past, move on, don’t think about it, it can’t happen again isn’t always so easy. No one could easily forget that their own mother would’ve left them to die if circumstances had been just a little bit different.

I was forcefully remembering the time I starved myself for a few days at the beach. I had no liquids either. Hey, I was only around 10, so I didn’t know any better about the importance of water. On the third day of no food/liquids, I couldn’t lift my head off the pillow when I awoke. I probably wrote about this before, but anyway, she didn’t feel the least bit sorry for me. Her exact words to me, and I remember them as if she’d said them just yesterday, were, “You did it, you correct it.”

That’s some mother I had, huh? Yeah, I did a stupid thing, but what do you expect from a kid so young? Utter perfection? If it weren’t for that bedroom being right off the kitchen, and if it weren’t for the cabinets containing food being about 5’ away, I’d be dead for sure. I remember how strenuous it was to get up, grab that Devil Dog out of the cabinet, then hop back into bed. I pretty much fell back into bed. Anyway, I could ever so barely muster up the strength to do this, and I remember it took 10 minutes to slow my heart down and gather enough strength just to eat the damn thing. I think – tell me I wouldn’t have died if the food had been further away or even on another floor. Tell me my own mother wouldn’t have let me die – but she would have. She just didn’t care. Perhaps I did the wrong thing by saving myself. Maybe I should’ve let myself die instead of fighting for my life that day while she played backgammon in the next room with her gal pal Charlotte, determined to have a good time and not let her virtually dying daughter ruin her day. Maybe I should’ve let go and given up, sparing myself many years of emotional and physical grief, and maybe teaching this pitiful excuse of a mother a lesson. Maybe it would’ve served her right if I’d died when I jumped instead of breaking my arm. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Later…

Another hour will mark the date we moved exactly one year ago. I never would’ve believed it in a million years if someone had told me the freeloaders would still be a problem, either!

I feel both rejected and relieved by Tom’s not hitting me for sex after all this time. Maybe I don’t turn him off, but I sure feel like I don’t turn him on, either. I feel like the last time I really turned him on was when we first met. It’s that way for me, too. I know most of his turnoff stems from his baby fears and his stubbornness to admit this to me. I still think something’s wrong with me, but it doesn’t matter cuz a woman doesn’t have to be sterile for a kid to be not meant to be. I just wish he could see this! Even if he opts to never cum again, I wish he could see that there’s no way I could conceive anyway, and if there ever was the slightest chance that I could, he’s made sure that that’ll never happen.

Regardless of who’s afraid of what and of what’s destined, I wish I’d started things off right! I wish I’d let him screw me from the get-go and not been like I was; having to go slow. I wish I’d been on birth control. Maybe that would’ve saved us from a lot of BS; if I had gone by the fact that most guys don’t want kids, and by the fact that I’ve known pretty much all my life that that wasn’t meant to be anyway, and had gotten on birth control or gotten myself permanently fixed.

Sometimes I wonder – did this man, who’s so wonderful and so close to perfect 95% of the time, trick me into marriage by telling me he’d cum regularly and that he wasn’t afraid to have a kid? Did he, and is he still, assuming I’d just throw my life away on account of his cumless dick and fears to just sit home all my life and clean the house? Did he assume I’d give up and lose the desire to pursue my dreams? Well, I definitely lost the desire, and I’d definitely rather be bored here at home with him than worse off all alone somewhere else. If I’m right about any of this, though – how dare he take me for granted like that, assume so much, and risk losing me while doing it! I may not want a kid like I used to, but the point’s still the same – he’s always lied, strung me along, and made such lame excuses about it, and I wish to hell he’d come clean. If he hasn’t yet, he obviously never will level with me honestly about his not cumming, unless he intends to wait till after menopause. Nonetheless, he should’ve leveled with me up front. I had a right to know the truth from the start. Not figure it out for myself in time by watching his actions. If he had had a genuine physical problem or came out and bluntly admitted to not wanting a kid, that would’ve been OK. I’d still have loved him enough to marry him. And whether or not he continues to bullshit me, I’m with him for life either way, but it’d still be nice to hear the truth. Knowing the truth and seeing the truth is one thing, but having it admitted to you is another. I don’t expect I’ll ever get an admission from him like I should have up front, but better a late one than to never receive one at all.

Do I want him to hit on me tomorrow, Sunday, our usual sex day? Yes and no. If he’s reading my journals he’d know I might be ovulating at this time (if I really do) so that may either scare him off or scare him into playing games, which he also finds quite amusing. You know, the one where he “forgets” how to fuck me, or is just too soft altogether. Sometimes he never gets hard, other times he deflates right before he’s about to enter me. Then again, I might’ve mentioned bleeding a couple of weeks ago, and so he wouldn’t necessarily need to read this with his great memory. And he has an easier time, like most of us, remembering the things that are most important to him, too. Anyway, I want him to hit on me so I don’t have to feel like some abnormal freak (something I feel enough of already), and I don’t want to feel like a turnoff, but he turns me off as well, just for different reasons. So, I don’t want him to hit on me, cuz I can’t get aroused because of his predictability and because of his not getting all that into it. It’s hard to get off by someone who doesn’t get off by you, and God only knows I managed to do so for the first year or two. I’m not saying I’d necessarily get off regularly if we suddenly had spontaneous sex where I never knew what to expect in bed from him, and where there was a 50/50 chance of his cumming, but I might more often.

Tom may find me more of a turnoff than any other woman he’s been with, due to how bad I wanted a kid at first and cuz of my aggressiveness, but I don’t think he’s ever been a very sexual person to begin with. He’s just not big on sex and is even sort of prudish. The guy wanted me to shut the blinds in the bedroom one time, and I was like – oh, please! How the hell are people going to see in a house with no lights on, in the daytime, from a few hundred feet away? If it weren’t for his low drive and prudishness, I might wonder if he was cheating. They say that if you’re not getting it from your mate, you’re getting it elsewhere, but this usually applies to those with an appetite.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 2000 Got new ink cartridges, and again the black is smudgy. Black, purple, red, and pink text is a bit smeared, but blue and green text is OK. Even so, I managed to print out decent-looking 2001 calendars. What is it with this brand, though? Is it just me that’s getting the defects? I’m sure it is, cuz certainly they couldn’t all be this way, or else they’d be out of business by now. Why is it I always have to be the one to get the defects? Does something up there feel I’m such a defect myself that defective things are a perfect match for me? Damn! Defect this, defect that. Another tire blew, too. It was fixed for free, but must we suffer so much more breakage and hassles than usual?

Got a Social Security statement in the mail showing my barely existent work history. It was kind of neat to see, nonetheless.

Woke up at 112 pounds. I suppose that’s why I can’t shit today, huh? I’ll be back to 115, I’m sure. At least I don’t have to be so stingy with my calories anymore, and can very easily maintain where I’m at as long as I stick to the exercise like I have been consistently doing so for nearly 6 months now. Even so, I’ll only treat myself to the wonderful caramel-flavored cappuccino they make now only once a month. Maybe even less often than that.

For calendars, I printed out Ma’s Christmas calendar, and pictures for calendars we plan to have around the house, but I didn’t do the calendar part of it yet. That’s because Tom’s going to go online to get me a holiday list. I told him I don’t need to know Jewish ones or meaningless ones like Flag Day. I just want the ones that he won’t work on.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 2000 Tom just went to bed and I’m recording the individual gymnastics competition.

Shortly after he got in, a knock came at the side door again. My heart started booming almost as bad as UPS had it going. After a couple of knocks on the side door, I saw a uniformed black guy go to the front door and knock there. I thought it was a Palm Harbor rep, and they seemed pretty desperate, so I finally agreed to open the door. His shirt said, “school maintenance” and he said he was looking for a house with a boy who has to walk over 2 miles to a bus stop, and he said they’re looking for a better route for him. He asked Tom how to get to a certain address, but he had no clue any more than I did as to its whereabouts. Why would you go knocking on doors asking for better directions when you can look at a map?

We read together, and Tom sketched an outline of the land, house, and things we plan to build and add to the place. We talked about putting a camera outside so we can see what wildlife and any vehicles that may approach the house. I like the idea (the kind of surveillance camera a bank would use). Also, although it’s very unlikely anyone would want to go out of their way to bust in here, the camera should be a good deterrent to anyone with common sense.

Tom says there’s a cat in the neighborhood. It might live next door, but we’re not sure.

I’m gonna be sending Paula a little Christmas present. I decided I’d send her one of the 2001 calendars I made up that I don’t think came out all that good, although I’d think she’d like it, and a copy of my story. I got an extra copy since Ma was able to make out the smaller print copy. I’ll keep the large print copy I got and send Paula another smaller print copy.

I was saying earlier how people make such big deals out of such little things – well, they made a big fuss about how amazing it was that one of the Olympic swimmers was deaf. You mean you gotta hear yourself swishing through the water to be able to swim? Oh, please!

Another thing that made me just want to reach through the TV and slap some heads, was the silver medal gymnast winners. They cried and got all miserable and depressed over getting the silver and not the gold, and I’m like, it’s just a piece of metal for Christ’s sake! Even if they didn’t get gold, silver or bronze, if I had half their body fitness/muscle/measurements, and half their skills, I’d be on cloud 9. Talk about being greedy and getting bent out of shape for nothing!

Well, I’m gonna go get the oven cleaning. I do it at night when it’s a bit cooler. It’s so cool; just turning a knob and having the oven clean itself without my having to do any scrubbing at all.

Later…

All the all-around medalists were Romanians. They’re the ones that won the gold in the team competition, too. I was glad to see the ones that stripped their silver medals off in disgust during the team competition not get anything for the individual meet, cuz they’re just too spoiled. Selfish little bitches. If you can’t appreciate silver, you don’t deserve shit.

What I saw during a news report only serves as a reminder of how unfair life is. Funny how someone can get away with beating someone up, while I go down for sending non-threatening mail to someone who made my life a living hell for years. I wish I was a black guy! Yeah, a black lady got kicked out of the Olympics for drugs, and cheating – something they love to do, and she and her fiancé were at the airport preparing to leave. Meanwhile, a cameraman films them, the fiancé flips, beats the snot of the cameraman, then gets away with it. The cameraman had to go to the hospital, and this is something that was filmed. You could hear the whole thing, including all the threats, and see most of the action, yet all the cops did was talk to the assholes. No arrests at all were made. Some world we live in. I tell you, it’s a great time to be a minority in this world, and it’s always a great time to be a guy. Wish I could paint myself black and put a dick between my legs on court day!

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 2000 Tom’s home now. God, I got pissed at him this morning! I felt both insulted and hurt. I still feel that he’s defending those freeloaders and that he’s on their side by the way he’s gotten on my ass for my part in all this and with the way he’s stressed how much he wants me to work out my anger problem with Helen. I feel he feels they did nothing wrong, even though he’s admitted they were noisy and rude. I’ll bet the bitch’s boy toy never says some of the things Tom says to me. Does that cock say he wants her to see a therapist when she rants and raves about me? I’ll bet he doesn’t. Does that cock tell her to “move on” when she bitches about me? I’ll bet not.

It started when I came stumbling out of the bedroom just when he got up. I expressed to him that I was a bit stressed and frustrated cuz the black bitch was eating at my brain like she does on and off, and then he starts in with how he hopes Helen can help me to control my emotions, etc. What an insulting thing to say! As if my emotions aren’t normal with all that’s been going on? I’m being dragged through the mud by the very people who perpetrated me. Of course, I’m going to be somewhat emotional at times. I’m sick of people implying there’s something wrong with me when I show emotion. Can’t someone get stressed out and angry at those who wrong us? I didn’t hit him or harm myself.

Then he insults me further by saying I should move on. Move on? And how can I do that? How can I do that when I have to go and face these fuckers again in court, make weekly calls to Sharon, deal with probation officers, and God knows what else? That is not moving on. When the day comes that I don’t have to do something solely because of them, then I can move on and begin the healing process of what they’ve done to me and put me through, but not until then. And the thing of it is, is that I’ve told him this before when he’s told me to move on. If he’d listened to me he’d know why that’s just not possible while I’m still under this bitch’s thumb. That bitch practically owns me.

I’m just sick of being made to feel like I’m screwed up while he’s perfect. I reminded him that he’s got problems too, yet I don’t suggest he go run to Helen to find out why he blames me for his not cumming and says I’m pressuring him when the real reason has to do with his own fears. I don’t suggest he go run to Helen when he gets moody/frustrated by things I think are the most ridiculous things to get moody/frustrated over. I’ve accepted that unlike me, he doesn’t want to get help for his problems and he never will. Meanwhile, I’ve accepted him as he is, even if some of his ways affect my day-to-day life, so why can’t he accept me? Just because I express myself in a more aggressive manner than he does, and just because I’m not afraid to show/express my emotions, doesn’t mean he’s any better than I am. He’s more content with life and with his ways than I am about life and with my ways, but I’m me and he’s him. Period.

Also, his saying I need help “controlling” my emotions is contrary to what he’s said in the past. In the past, he’s told me not to try to control my emotions and to just let them be whatever they’re going to be. Anyway, although he denies this, he obviously has just as hard of a time with hearing me vent my anger and frustration as I do with having to feel these emotions, so I think it’d be best to bitch about life and the people in it to Helen only. And in my journals, of course. It’s Helen’s job to sit and listen to people bitch, so I might as well get our money’s worth and let her do what she gets paid to do.

This whole freeloader thing has gotten so out of hand and so blown out of proportion. People are either forgetting or just not willing, to see the big picture. The big picture is – they victimized and harassed me. And like I said before, nobody forced that bitch or the people back east to read my mail. All I did was send this bitch mail, not kill her. I never once directly threatened her or her associates in my mail, either. We all get letters and mail we don’t like from time to time. So? Big deal! If you get letters/mail you don’t like – throw them out. If you get messages you don’t want to hear – erase them and move on. But this spiteful, sensitive-in-the-wrong-kind-of-way bitch couldn’t move on, and therefore, I cannot move on. I just can’t believe the big stink people will make out of such petty bullshit! If we all ran to the cops/courts about mail we don’t exactly like or want, the bulk of us would virtually live at the police station and courthouse. You mean, there are actually people out there who can’t handle a few phone calls and a letter or two? I can see it freaking out a woman who got mail/calls from a violent ex or something like that, but good, God! I’d hate to see them try to have to deal with the shit the freeloaders put me through and all kinds of other shit I’ve had to endure during my life. I’ve often thought I was weaker than most people. Maybe not. Maybe they’re the ones that are actually weaker and maybe I’m a little tougher than I’ve given myself credit for.

Later…

Although I was up 18 hours yesterday, I only slept 7. I felt rested enough when I got up at 1:00, though. It’s nice to take a break from the pressures of the alarm. I can’t take weekends off like Tom and most people can from alarms, cuz it fucks my schedule up and makes it hard for me to back it up to where I’m going to bed earlier and able to get up earlier, too.

I’m quite proud of myself for doing hundreds of ab crunches a day. However, and sadly enough, I don’t have anything to show for it. My stomach looks almost exactly like it did months ago. Tom suggested that if I want to change my appearance quicker and shed some more fat to expose my muscle that is definitely there under all this fat, I should cut out my refined sugar intake. For the most part, the only thing I have containing processed sugar is what’s in my coffee, but I don’t have just one cup a day, either; more like 4-6 cups. I have a cup of regular when I get up, then decaf throughout the rest of the day. Perhaps he’s got a good point. A lot of these athletes who work out like I do, although much more extensively, do not allow themselves sugar. It’s not so much how much you eat as it is what you eat. As long as I work out regularly, I don’t have to be stingy with my calorie intake and that’s all well and good, but I still have a layer of flab that jiggles and that I shouldn’t have. Not for as fit and as solid as I am otherwise, and not after paying over a thousand dollars for this exercise equipment. Tom thinks I look thin and fit, but I disagree. I don’t look huge and horrible, but I don’t look like I have any muscle, either. It’s too hidden. If I can shed the fat that’s covering it, then I’ll look thin and fit. When I look at my upper arms, for example, as they hang limply by my sides, I see no muscle tone whatsoever. When I feel the thing, though, that’s a different story. Then I can feel the muscle definition. I can flex the muscles in the shoulder area and see those, but for a home gym like Bowflex, I should be able to see the muscles I’ve got just by standing relaxed. I shouldn’t have to flex them through fat. So, since tea is pretty boring, I’m gonna switch to coffee that you brew and use sugar-free creamers and artificial sweeteners like Sweet-n-Low.

Tom saw his mom, who was stressing out over Mary, which is understandable. Mary’s got an appointment tomorrow. I laughed when Tom said Mary said she’d feel embarrassed that people got all worried for nothing if it turned out not to be a big deal. Better to be embarrassed for nothing than to find out you’re either going to die or you’ve got a rough road ahead of you. She’s a wonderful person; I think she’s got a rough road ahead of her, but will probably be allowed to live.

Don’t know how long Oreo and Butter Rum are gonna live, though. Oreo’s throat tumor is nearly as big as her head, although she doesn’t appear to be in any pain or unable to get around. I just noticed Butter Rum’s tumor on her side yesterday. To say mice and tumors go hand in hand is quite an understatement!

Later…

They got me again. Yeah, the old folks, sister, brother, and the whole sick clan just popped into my mind and I’m having an awfully hard time shooing them out. They’re like cockroaches that just don’t quit! Instead of unpleasant and unwanted thoughts/memories of them bringing anger like they used to, they bring anxiety. Like remembering a car accident or something like that would. I’m just glad I ditched them from my life when I did. No, I wish I’d done it sooner, but better late than never. I can’t believe no one’s been killed yet, and I still firmly believe that as soon as Art or Doe goes, there’ll be major violence at the funeral if not murder, and I’m just sooo glad I won’t be there! Larry, Tammy or Ronnie will go at each other in some way. I just know it, and I’m just so glad I won’t have to be in the middle of it, cuz I’m no little girl anymore. If Ronnie, who’s no match for me, came at me, I know I could never restrain myself from clobbering him. Since around the time I came to Phoenix, I know I wouldn’t have any self-control if anyone were to threaten or come at me. I’m just too bold now to cower down, win or lose. I’ll stand my ground at any cost and not allow myself to be bullied like I have been in the past. It scares me to think – just what would I have done if Larry, Bill, and others were within arm’s reach when I was burning with rage at them? Would I have killed them or beaten them so bad that they would’ve wished to hell I did?

Anyway, it sure would be nice if Helen, or anyone, could give me total amnesia when it came to these people! How I wish to hell I could delete them from my memory!!! I’d do it in a heartbeat. What a depressing thought, though, to know that I’ll have to live with the horrible memories connected to the people back east, plus the blacks and Mexicans, for the rest of my life. They can pop into my head and visit anytime they like and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I guess it’s better that they can intrude upon my thoughts, rather than in my life (even if some of them are still very much a part of my life), but it’s tough enough as it is. Them butting into my thoughts is intruding upon my life.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 2000 Tom just went to bed. For the rest of the night, I’ll be reading, listening to music, maybe singing softly, and watching the women’s gymnastics that I’m taping. Although tonight’s games run for 5 hours, you barely get an hour of gymnastics. That’s because they have other events too, along with commercials and interviews with the Olympians.

I’m a bit stressed and depressed right now, but what else is new, huh? If it ain’t one thing, it’s another. I still can’t believe I was ever thrown in jail and forced to go to court for this shit with the blacks, regardless of whether or not she and her cronies did shit to us to deserve it. I mean, it just seems so petty! What a waste of time and money going after me for this. Never once in my mail to her, or to the Mexicans for that matter, did I ever directly threaten them. So she got some mail she didn’t like – big deal! We all get mail/letters we don’t like; should we all go running to the cops about them? This world is so damn sensitive and spiteful! All she had to do was not read it, throw it out, and forget it. Same goes for Bill and Tammy. No one made them read my mail and listen to my calls. If they didn’t want to hear from me, all they had to do was erase my messages without listening to them, and if they didn’t like what I had to say in my letters, they shouldn’t have read them. They should’ve and could’ve just ditched them and moved on.

Although I don’t vibe it as strongly as I did for a while, I still fear going to jail. Not just because of God’s “lock-up” pattern, but cuz the state wouldn’t mind spending the money. They waste money all the time.

If these assholes had been white, would the law have come down on me like it did? Somehow, I doubt it. Like I said, times have changed. You could kill an off-brand in the past and get away with it, no questions asked, but today, if you so much as dare to even look at one wrong, you’ll get lynched for it. Just like all the rights used to go to the whites in the past, all the rights now go to the minorities. Everyone’s quick to believe the word of minorities before the word of whites.

Tom said that he hopes Helen can brighten my outlook on my future. That’s a laugh. If she could do that, then we could’ve done that ourselves by now, but why bother? My future’s my future no matter how I look at it. It’s etched in stone, a done deal, destined to be what it’ll be. I realize more than ever that I’m never going to be fully happy and content with life. The next 35 years will be 85% bad, just like the last 35 years (almost) have been 85% bad. I’m not going to repeat past mistakes again by tricking myself into believing I have a destiny other than the one that’s meant to play out. No, I can’t have a career or a family should I decide I want one, and that’s that. There’s no sense in getting me to think I could have/do things I wanted to, just to be let down and disappointed by reality in the end. This is my destiny. I’m living it right now. I’m going to court for the people who victimized me, I’m cleaning the house, doing my usual hobbies, etc. That’s my life. Period.

At least my life is much better than it used to be and I don’t have as many problems/worries as I used to. I may not be able to pick and choose a career or have a kid, but at least I’ve got my freedom (I hope) that I’ll always be able to keep and hang onto because of not having a kid. At least I’ve got Tom. That’s the most important thing right there, even if we don’t turn each other on (sex really is such a small, insignificant part of a relationship) I don’t have to deal with things alone in an apartment in the city, and I do have some things to look forward to, too. It’ll take time, but I know I’ll get more dolls someday, go to Vegas, play miniature golf, etc. There’s still some life left out there to be lived by me.

I had a hard time getting up when the alarm went off at 9:00 today, cuz I had trouble falling asleep last night, so I decided – fuck it, I’m doing a rollover. I need a break from this little blackie and to take back my life and to have a little teeny bit of control over it, if only for a little while.

I hope to hell I get a chance to express myself in court. After these freeloaders lie about me, I want to be able to tell the truth about them and let the courts know, even though it won’t do me any good, that these people are perpetrators too, and that I’m a victim as well, and let them know why. I feel that keeping quiet about them would not only make me feel like I lacked self-respect, but it’d make me feel like I was covering for these people, and I sure as hell don’t want to protect these assholes from the truth, even if I don’t have the evidence to do them in for their wrongdoings. They’ll never do a day’s time for what they did to me and they’ll never pay a dime for it either, but by God, I’ve got a right to tell my story too, and to let the judge know just what we’re dealing with here!

In my next letter to Paula, which I hope won’t be handwritten, I expressed my concerns to her about the bad vibes I’ve had pertaining to Justin. I didn’t tell her that part of it was logic, having nothing to do with being psychic, cuz of the kind of mother she is. I knew all along this was coming, but it’s getting closer – him being in trouble with the law. We’re talking big stuff, too. I have drug/robbery vibes, but not like I do with assault, rape, and possibly even murder. I didn’t want to scare her, but I felt it my duty as her friend to warn her.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 2000 I’m in the mood to write, but I have nothing to say. Perhaps that’s for the better, though, cuz lately, whenever I do have stuff to say, it isn’t good news.

Guess I’ll get on with my scanning project. I’m still scanning in signs from my signing book, then I’m going to crop them, make wallpaper out of them, and print them out when I get new ink.

Later…

Liar. He’s such a liar and I’m sick of it. He’s working out with energy he’s not supposed to have. In reality, he’s got enough energy for sex every day. So it’s not energy he’s lacking, it’s desire. But why can’t he just admit it? I did.

Anyway, UPS scared the shit out of me today. They knocked on the side door and my heart started booming so loud and so fast. I thought it was going to jump right out of my chest. I ran to the living room and looked out the front windows. At first, I saw nothing. Then I saw a UPS truck heading out. We got a letter saying we’re behind on our house payments. Yeah, I suppose I can thank a certain freeloader for that. Anyway, he said that that’s why we’re getting the loan. It went through, but we haven’t received the check yet. After I thought about it, I realized that the cops wouldn’t have knocked on that door. At least the ones that were here didn’t. Their door of choice was the front door to knock on.

I finished scanning all my signs. I changed my mind about printing them out. If I wanted them printed out, I’d have left my sign language book intact. The idea was to convert to an electronic version.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 2000 Paula’s going to be getting 3 envelopes from me. That’s cuz I handwrote what I normally print out for her. She normally gets 6 pages of text. Especially with all that’s been going on. Well, those 6 pages of text turned out to be 27 handwritten notebook pages.

Saw another prairie dog by the well again yesterday. I put some salad out, but I don’t know if they got it.

Just when one fear of mine is eased, pertaining to our infamous freeloaders, another one pops up. Tom pointed out that it’s unlikely that the freeloaders would know any of the judges in the courthouse we’re dealing with, cuz she didn’t even know where to sit. That’s nice, but it’s a certain fetish of God’s that worries me. He has an obvious fetish for having me locked up, confined and stuck in places I don’t want to be in. There were the camps I was forced to go to (even if I got kicked out of them), the beach I was made to sit on every goddamn day of the summer, the hospitals and schools I was confined to, the apartments I was stuck in, etc. So, doesn’t it sound like having me go to jail would be something God would allow to happen? That’s totally something he would do. It fits into my pattern, so to speak, and that’s scary.

If there’s anything I learned about Arizonans, it’s that most of the people out here, unlike most of the people back east, tend to spite themselves to get at others. People have their ups and downs in all parts of the country, but out here they’ll make total fools of themselves to bring others down. That’s why I was surprised that the blacks and Mexicans would turn the mail over to the cops; cuz of all the shit I wrote about them, both true and untrue. On the other hand, if I’d sat down and thought about it, I’d have realized – they wouldn’t care. They were too full of hate and venom to care. All that mattered to them, and all they could think of, was getting at me.

Later…

Right now I’ve got mixed emotions about one of my biggest curses – sex. I’m glad he didn’t want it for the second weekend in a row, cuz you know how sick of it and bored I am by it, but now he says he’s gonna start working out again. Well, not that I expect he’ll stick to it, but if he hasn’t got the energy for sex, where’s he gonna get the energy for working out? And if he was too bummed out to screw cuz of Mary, how can he work out? I just don’t get it. I know that from the get-go this man has been terrified of the thought of impregnating me and I know he has a low appetite, but what am I missing here? Just what is it about me that has this man so turned off? I sense there’s something else besides the two basics. It’s more than a lack of desire and a fear of a kid, but what? What is it? Something I said or did? With me it’s simple – I lack the desire to have sex with him cuz he’s too predictable and it’s boring. Also, his lack of desire to cum snuffs out my desire to cum, and it’s not new and exciting anymore. But with him, I feel there’s something else to it. Something I’ve been missing for the last 7 years. Something not so obvious like his baby fear and his not being big on sex to begin with.

Maybe he didn’t touch me this weekend cuz of how I told him I felt I still had irritation down there. I even had him look at me to check for any signs of redness or anything, although he didn’t see any. He said it was up to me whether or not we did anything this weekend, but then I told him, no, it’s up to you (since when is anything about sex up to me?). He said OK.

Other than that, I saw the pickup go by without any music, I’m watching gymnastics in the Olympics, which is in Sydney Australia, and that’s it. Can’t sleep in tomorrow as long as that black bitch owns me. She owns my life, and therefore, I gotta be up cuz Don’s gonna call any time now.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 2000 Tom had a good idea for the big plastic pipes the well cocks left; to use them as supports for the porches and fill them in with cement. I like the idea. Then maybe for once and for all I can stop having to play Leak and Bucket, although in this case, it’s Leak and Towel. Having rain seep under one of the doors is better than having rain leak through several spots on the ceiling, but enough is enough of the leak curse! Especially with a brand-new house!

I’m glad today’s Saturday so I can have one more day off of sex, and I hope to hell he’s too stressed out (not that I like to see him suffer), or at least not in the mood to screw around tomorrow. I’m really afraid it’ll hurt. I still have irritation down there that just won’t quit. I know I could be the one to make an excuse, but again, despite the fact that he’d be perfectly content to never have sex again, such as I would be, I feel so guilty! I just can’t get over the guilt of saying no to him, but if I could just get over it since I know, logically speaking, I shouldn’t feel guilty, then I could say no more often to his games and to the same old, same old. But for now, when he approaches me for sex with a little grin on his face as early as 1:00, I just don’t have the strength to say, “No. I know you’re up to something, which no doubt is the I-just-can’t-seem-to-get-in-there game, and I’m not in the mood for it.” Again, it totally amuses this guy to see me turned off.

Let me go cook his chili-mac and vanilla pudding, then I’ll write more. I like to cook for him on weekends. Makes me feel more of a wife, so to speak.

Later…

Here’s the status on Mary: she went to the doctor and they’re gonna do more testing to find out how widespread the cancer is. If it’s contained within her throat, they’ll do radiation therapy, but if it’s spread out, they’ll have to resort to chemo, which means the poor girl will have to go bald and puke her guts out. Now why can’t this be happening to a fucker like the black bitch I’m cursed with? Huh? Why does it have to be someone like Mary?

Mary’s pretty disgusted with David right now and I don’t blame her. After doing a disappearing act for quite a while, David and his family visited Ma on Thursday and she told them about Mary’s case while she was at work. Well, they didn’t even have the decency to call her later on. I know having kids robs you of your life, but that’s downright selfish and insensitive! Ma’s gotta do what she’s gotta do, but again, I’d will very little money to Ray, David and Steven (although who knows how helpful/supportive Steven would’ve been if he’d lived locally), and most of it to Mary and Tom. They’re the ones that have done the most and cared the most.

There’s not much more to say about my visit to Helen. Just that she thinks I should’ve pushed my case with the freeloaders the legal way. Yeah, right! By the time that might’ve gotten me anywhere, I knew we’d be long gone.

I didn’t yet get into my dull and sometimes shitty sex life. I just said that Tom’s a wonderful guy with the exception of the fact that he’s a slob and he sucks in bed. She grinned at that one. She also grinned when I mentioned how where there is one Mexican there are 50 when I was explaining just how many freeloading assholes I had to deal with.

When I told her I didn’t think she could help me with my anger after all this time, she said, “There are no magic words I can say to you, but that there’s a time for learning things.” Maybe, but even so, I have my doubts about her until and if I’m proven differently.

She too, believes there’s a reason for everything, and I told her why I believe in curses as well as blessings. One of the things she said really hurt, and that’s that most of her life has been good, in her opinion. Not that I’m not happy for her, but a good 80%–85% of mine has been bad in some way or another, and this only went to prove that yes, I was singled out for a reason. Why else do some people get what they want in life and find more happiness than others? Maybe there is such a thing as reincarnation and I’m due to be compensated in my next life. Maybe my next life will be mostly good, and maybe I’ll be one of the ones to get the career she wants, to get the kid if she wants it, etc. Tom said the problem he has with the reincarnation belief is that there are more people now than there were years ago, so where did all the souls come from? Good question. Maybe they were created when the new people were created. After all, these souls would’ve had to start somewhere, wouldn’t they? But then there’s been times when the population has dropped, so where do all those souls go and how is it determined which ones come back? I don’t know, maybe the souls that don’t return are the ones that get fried in hell. Still, why has God picked on me so much? I know he’s picked on lots of others too, some in worse ways, but let’s just take me, for example. Why? Why has he been so determined to keep me from much happiness and the things I want? Is it a vengeance thing? A compensation thing? Maybe I already did live, and in my last life, things were great most of the time.

Not that they shouldn’t be, but things have been very quiet around here. No pickup banging by, nor have I even seen it go by quietly. No renters, no Danantics. But of course, now that I’ve written this, it’ll all change.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 2000 I still haven’t finished all I discussed with Helen, but that’s simply because I wanted to take a break from the fucking subject. It’s been nothing but black this and Mexican that, just like when I lived with them, and aaarrrggghhh!!! Blacks and Mexicans, courts - I just get sooo fucking sick of them! I started to write earlier, then it was like, enough is enough! I need a time-out from this freeloader shit, even if it’s only for a day or two.

Anyway, back to the freeloaders and the story of my life. It won’t let me do a rollover, despite the fact that no one’s booming and my dentist, therapy and court dates are far enough away because Don could want me to hop on into his office any sec. I just don’t know for sure, but my guess is that I won’t be seeing him for 2-3 weeks, judging by what he told me when I called him yesterday. I can’t take chances, though. I need to be ready, alert and available for whatever may come up, which means I gotta stick to being on days.

I was amazed that I got right through to him on the first try. I called, a woman answered saying, “Pre-sentencing,” I asked for Don, she put me through to his extension, and he picked up. He didn’t sound friendly or like an asshole. He was just there. I have a feeling, though, that things are gonna reverse themselves like they usually do (unless it’s a curse that just won’t quit), and that he’s going to turn out to be a real asshole. I just can’t imagine having two Sheila’s in a row, even if one of them has a dick between their legs. Anyway, he asked me when my sentencing date was, I gave it to him, and he said we still have time, so he’s not worried. Then he told me he still had other cases to go through before he got to mine. He asked whereabouts I lived and that was it till he calls me back. Tom said it could’ve been a test to see if I’d really call. Yeah, I think it was cuz OK – people are incompetent, but even so, I find it hard to believe that the interview lady didn’t know he couldn’t have gotten to my case that fast.

I’ve done major cleaning around here the last couple of days. I just got sick of being bored and wanted to do anything to get these freeloaders off my mind for a while till I’m forced to deal with them again. It needed a good cleaning, too. I gathered up all the dolls and dusted them. I put them all, except for the biggest two, on one of the tables by the mice and took a picture of the crowd, too.

Heard from Dan last night. At least I think I did. There were a couple of times, although it was hard to hear over the fan, where I thought I heard a car stereo. When I looked out towards Meadow Green, I didn’t see anything either time. The first time I checked Dan’s, his place was dimly lit, including the carport, but I didn’t see any movement. The second time it was brightly lit and I saw the taillights of a car leaving his place, suggesting the car with the stereo might’ve visited, but I can’t be sure. What I heard could’ve been a loud, rumbling engine for all I know.

I’m gonna take a break, then I promise to finish up with Helen.

Later…

Just fried up a tortilla, which the rats also love. They weren’t as thrilled with the baked potato skins, though, as I thought they’d be.

I’m kind of bummed about this, cuz I really wanted to get down around 100–105 pounds, but I think it’s time I cut my losses and just settle for being 115 pounds. I just don’t have the willpower to lose any more weight and I’m sick of working so hard. There are worse things in life than being 10-15 pounds overweight, so I think I’ll just move into the maintain status now. I think asking to be 100-105 is as unrealistic as the black bitch was. You’re being unrealistic and setting your expectations too high if you think you can harass people and get away with it without getting some kind of reaction. Well, I’d be just as foolish to think I could lose 10-15 more pounds and keep it off, too.

Since I’ve got all weekend to write about Helen, I’ll start writing my letter to Paula, since it’s obviously going to be a while before I get cartridges.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 2000 If only I knew how soon Don wanted to see me. Then I could do a rollover if I wanted to, cuz I won’t see the therapist till October 12th (I guess she’s going on vacation), the dentist till October 23rd, and the courts till October 30th. Well, I’ll find out tomorrow when I’m scheduled to call him. I’m sure he’ll want to see me within a week. He’s going to want to see the person behind the voice.

Anyway, I could do a rollover cuz I doubt they’ll be booming for a while. I was wondering why I hadn’t heard them yesterday or the day before. Well, Tom told me two planes hit that were flying from CA. I was like, already?! I didn’t think they’d crash again so soon after starting flying again.

Later…

With the exception of birds and lizards, Desert Winds Ranch continues to be a ghost town. Haven’t seen any p-dogs or snakes.

OK, now for my trip to see Helen S. Unlike Paul, she was what I pictured her to be; a plain-looking, middle-aged woman. She was fairly petite, fortyish, with close-cropped blond hair. Probably the married-with-children type (depending on how far God allowed her to go with that if that’s what she wanted) and she had the nicest, most comfortable therapy office I’d ever been in. All the other therapists had rooms no bigger than closets, with hard-backed or slightly cushioned chairs you find in most waiting rooms.

Later…

God, why is it that as soon as I get busy doing something, I have to shit? I guess it’s better than being stuck. Anyway, I spotted something good along the way – a p-dog! Yeah, it was down by the well. Still none in the usual spot out front.

Anyway, Helen was in this old house in Tempe that reminded me of the old house next to the small Community Care building in Springfield that I’d see Martha in. It wasn’t as old, but it was still weird being in a house like that cuz there just aren’t many houses in Arizona over 50 years old and with two stories. We stayed on the first floor, though. We came into a little entryway and found paperwork waiting to be filled out. God, I am so sick of filling out forms! No one was at the desk. Helen said something about her secretary being away. Anyway, once she got to be 15 minutes late, I decided to give her a total of a half-hour, or I’d walk. She was 20 minutes late and I asked if she was usually that late, cuz no offense, but $25 was a lot for us to be paying for her to be late. She said I’d still get my 50 minutes and no, she wasn’t usually that late. The 50 minutes flew by fast, too.

She led me back to an office with cute little knickknacks and even a bowl of candy. I sat on a plush loveseat while she sat in a regular chair such as what was in the waiting room. Unlike my other therapists, she scribbled down notes the whole time. From the moment we sat down, it all came flying out. Mostly the events of the last few years. I rambled on and on non-stop. She seemed untouched by most of the things I’d told her. Not that she didn’t necessarily care or empathize with me, but like she’s heard it all. That sort of thing. She may not be able to really relate to anything I’ve told her, though. Her life may have been “too good” for that, in a sense, but I’ll get to that later.

Up front I told her that I talk fast and tend to change subjects a lot and that I have ADD, making it hard for me to focus. I also told her I tend to talk a little loud what with my being hard of hearing, and that due to my loudness, I may sound more emotional than I really am at times.

I didn’t get too much into my childhood yet. There was only so much of my life I could cram into 50 minutes. It’ll take several sessions before she knows it all, so to speak, if I see her several more times. I told her about the blacks and Mexicans, the NHA, and mostly about the events that led me to her. I told her I’ve had a problem with anger, too. I just hope she can remember everything we discussed, despite her notes, since it’ll be a month before we meet again unless the courts make me see someone else. If they do, at least they’ll pay for it.

Later…

I was trying to read, but the black bitch won’t let me. Yeah, it’s that time again where she’s eating away at my thoughts and she just won’t get the fuck out of them. This bitch just doesn’t go away! I know she never will, either. I do fine for a while (although it’s been depressing for me having to face up to knowing my life is truly over) and then she pops into my brain like a bad disease and I can’t kick her out and cure my thoughts of her. She’s just not easy to get rid of when you consider how pissed off she makes me. I got to thinking – if she really does work for the courts, and since she’s already abused her authority this much, how much further can she go? How much further will she go? If she’s pals with any of these judges or has any way of influencing them, I’m fucked. Another thing that worries me is having to pay money directly to this bitch that she certainly doesn’t deserve or is owed by me. This bitch owes me. Hundreds of dollars, and maybe even thousands when this is ever over. Tom said they might make me pay her the cost of changing her phone number, if she did, but I doubt she changed it. I’m sure they’ll find some reason to force me to pay her something since I’ve been forced to do everything else concerning this little fuck, but I can’t see paying for her to change her number as one of them. She’d want me to call her so she could get me into as much trouble as possible.

I’m just sick of people telling me what I gotta do. And where I gotta go. It’s just so unfair! Sooo, so unfair. Life is so fucking backward it isn’t funny. God, kill these fucking freeloaders! And do it in a way so I couldn’t possibly be blamed for it, like a fatal car wreck or something, please! If you have any mercy left for me whatsoever, just a tiny inkling of respect – kill them and give me my life back (not that it ever fully belonged to me)!!!

Always with me, always with them.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 2000 All’s been quiet for the last couple of days; no music or gunning. This is Maricopa, though, so that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

I had the strangest cramps today. Not only are my periods getting erratic beyond description, but so are my cramps. Why can’t my period just start and simply stop like it’s supposed to? Why do I have to spot on and off for weeks at a time? It’s gotten to the point that I’m doing this monthly now. Earlier I felt slight cramps that turned into heavy cramps, out of the blue, at such an odd time of day. I thought the 4 ibuprofen tablets I took were going to be worthless, cuz it seemed to take quite a while to relieve the pain. What was strange was that the cramps came in waves. Usually, you either have them or you don’t. They’re a steady thing. Nonetheless, mine came in waves and seemed to be concentrated more on one side. At first I was surprised I had nothing but spots for all those cramps, but then I got more of a flow. More flow than I’ve had in a couple of months or so.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 2000 Got another day of freedom where I can just live my life, but come tomorrow, it’ll be time to humiliate myself yet again at the counselor. Not cuz I’m shy or afraid to discuss my troubles, but cuz I feel I’ve been reduced to therapy mostly on account of the blacks and Mexicans, but definitely more by the blacks. We lived together longer, this case is now about them, and they’ve certainly humiliated me much more than the Mexicans. Tom disagrees, but I see having to resort to therapy after all these years as a huge demotion in life. And if I think the last court date was humiliating, wait till next time! Next time is gonna be when the blacks get up and say how horribly I treated them, all the while appearing to be perfectly innocent little angels. I just wish I’d videotaped them and their shit, kept the note, saved the phone messages, etc.! With my shit luck, it wouldn’t have done me any good, though. I’m being compensated for getting off in the past, and I’m sure I’ll also be compensated by the therapist and probation officer. Because Cassandra was so nice, I’m sure Helen won’t be so cool, and because Sheila was cool, I’m sure this cock I gotta deal with will be a major hard-ass. Even Paul said that although most probation officers really do want to work with clients, see them succeed and get them off their caseload, there are a few that are a different story. Yeah, I’ve been in enough funny farms to know all about power-play. There are at least a few power-tripping assholes in every batch of teachers, managers, probation officers, and within any of the more authoritative fields. Well, I’m counting on being stuck with one of those Donna A/Margaret M types.

I don’t expect it’ll do me a damn bit of good, but Tom wrote that character reference letter nevertheless. He wrote it well and I appreciate his doing what he said he was gonna do. Of course, he wouldn’t dare mention that they did stuff to me, too. Much more than I did to them. Again, I don’t think he thinks they really did much wrong. He said something about not wanting it to sound like we hate these people. Well, I certainly hate them, but what he said was fine. He said I was caring, considerate and good with animals. He mentioned how I write to his mom and am seeking counseling for my anger problem. He also wanted to stress that what I did is in the past and not an ongoing thing that stretched into this year.

Neither of us screwed this weekend cuz of all the stress that’s going on. What else is new, huh? It wasn’t just my shit that snuffed our desire, but Tom’s really bumming about Mary having cancer and so am I. It’s just sooo unfortunate and sooo unfair. How do people screw regularly enough to have kids? (those that can have them) Life is one thing after another, so where do they find the time and how do they get horny throughout life’s constant ups and downs? Well, I still get horny and get off even when the shit’s hitting the fan, so maybe it’s just a matter of who we get off with. Unlike when we first met, I can’t get off with him not getting off and not getting all that into it. His fears snuff my desire and I’d just assume to take care of myself. I’m sure he feels the same way but for different reasons. He can’t get off with me cuz he’s too scared I’ll get pregnant. He’d never get off, though, even if I had to have a hysterectomy. To him, getting off after a hysterectomy or menopause would be admitting my beliefs about him were right, so he wouldn’t get off as a cover for the truth, but I can see right through him regardless. Anyway, if I can ever get these freeloaders out of my life for good, it’ll be on to something else. Something that’ll no doubt be an ongoing problem for years, since I rarely have big problems that last just weeks or even months. But you know what? I’ve dealt with these fucking freeloaders being a huge problem for 4 years now, and I’m sick of this shit. Really sick of it! If I gotta be so damn destined for one problem after another, be it long-term or short-term, then I’m ready for a change. A breath of fresh air would be welcomed any time, even if it ain’t so “fresh.”

I could tell by the way I shit this morning that I had been stuck for a couple of days. I practically shit 4 times in a row and was a pound lighter afterward. I guess my metabolism is speeding up over time, cuz I can’t believe all the calories I’m able to get away with lately! Yesterday I had nearly 2000 calories and I thought for sure I’d be 117-118 pounds, but nope. I still need to cut back again to try to lose some more, though. I’ve also increased my workload. Meaning, I’m doing all the exercises every day, rather than some one day and the rest the next. I’m proud of myself for not missing more than 2 days of working out since I began last April. I still have a long way to go, though, and I don’t know if I can go any further, but we’ll see. Like I said, this is right where I got stuck the last time. The only difference is that it’s easier to maintain the 113-115 pounds this time around, whereas the last time, I had to struggle to stay down there cuz my body wanted desperately to get back into the 120s.

Later…

Tom talked to Mary today. She hasn’t seen the oncologist yet, but she has a list of referrals. She’ll probably see someone next week.

I’ve still got mixed emotions about seeing this therapist. What can she tell me that could really help me? If I couldn’t help myself, and if Tom couldn’t help me (although this last round of mail really purged most of the anger in me), then how can this stranger help me? What could she possibly say to me that’d help? Tom says that sometimes it’s the things that are the most obvious that are the answer. The things we least expect. Then he reminded me of how I was the one to solve the computer problem we had, which was something so obvious, yet he’s the one with the expertise.

Although the bulk of my anger towards the people back east has dulled out, and although the same thing would eventually happen with the freeloaders as well, if they’d only get the fuck out of my life and stay out of it (cuz the relief of finally having them out of my life would be so strong that it’d override any other emotion), I don’t know how I’m going to handle future neighbors that piss me off. I just know that I’m not going to deal with them the way I did with the freeloaders. The way I’ll probably handle them will be in the only way I really can without worsening things for myself - by just taking their shit. All one can do with assholes like the freeloaders is just ignore them.

No, not ignore them. They make that impossible. So, since they can’t be ignored, the best thing to do is nothing. Taking action, legally or not, almost always makes things worse, so I’ll just sit and listen to it the next time I’m near people like that who blast music, party outside for hours at a time, etc.

Another thing that bothers me about seeing a therapist is that it’s just one more thing I gotta do cuz of the freeloaders (I’m sick of doing for the freeloaders!), and while I’m doing this for Tom too, what’s he do for me? Meaning, I quit smoking for the guy, I’m going to therapy for the guy (not that some of this isn’t for me as well), but would he ever go see someone about his not cumming if I asked him to? No, of course not. If it were up to him he’d never discuss it or deal with it. He’s the way he wants to be and I do accept and understand the fact that no one can make people change. The courts can make me see a counselor or a probation officer if they want, but they can’t make me want to or change me in any way. If he’d prefer to make one lame excuse after another about the way he is, and if he’d prefer to stay the way he is – fine, cuz a kid’s the last thing I want to be dealing with anyway, and I still feel the same on that issue as I have for the last few years now. I’m OK with not having a kid. I’m just not that desperate anymore, though I’ll always wonder about it. Nevertheless, I’m looking forward to not having a kid, but I don’t like being controlled by him or God when it comes to my right to choose. It should’ve been my decision to make. The only thing I’m grateful for is that we never had a kid up till now, but if I changed my mind and decided at 40 years old that I wanted a kid again, I should have the right to have one. I didn’t kill anyone. There’s nothing to say I’d treat it like Dureen and Tammy treat their kids, so I should have the freedom of choice.

But I never will. I’m prepared to live my whole life childless, and again, it’s OK. I’d rather be bored than run ragged by a child, and like I said, life’s hard enough as it is. I don’t need to bring a kid into this world to suffer it’s non-stop BS. But I don’t want to hear no bullshit excuses, and I don’t want to be controlled, either.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 2000 My measurements are ridiculous: 36-28½-35½ with 21” thighs. The thighs are doing better, and losing over 2” in the thighs in 5 months is good, but losing a measly 1½ in the waist is pitiful. So is my waist size relative to my tits and hips. If my tits and hips are going to be 35-36, my waist should be much smaller. It should be a 23-24 period. Especially at my height. I’d happily settle for a 25, though. Nonetheless, I’m never gonna be the 33-23-33 I’d like to be with 18” thighs. Tom thinks I’ve lost a sufficient amount of fat and inches in the last 5 months, but I feel it went too slow, and that I’m stuck where I am right now. October 1st is getting closer, and once again, if I still haven’t lost any more weight by then, I’m going to move into the maintain status. I’ve got mixed emotions about this; yes, I want to lose more weight and get smaller, but I’m so sick of all this hard work! Things could be worse, though. I could be 150-200 pounds like your average American woman. Well, I’m definitely not your average American or even non-American woman. Most women have kids. Hell, I can’t even sleep with my own husband I’m such a light sleeper, and I can’t even have a normal sex life.

The renters took a Saturday off and didn’t blast off last night. Haven’t heard from Dan either, but I keep the fans on during the late afternoons/early evenings, and all day on weekends.

My ink died so I wrote by hand letters to Paula and mom, Mary and Dave, although I’d already had a few pages printed for Paula. I just wish she’d write back! At least once a month. If she doesn’t work, how can this be asking too much of her? How can it be asking too much even if she did work? I wish she’d write monthly, not just to let me know what’s going on with her, but to let me know she’s alive and getting my letters. How do I know she isn’t dead or in jail/prison and not getting the letters when I don’t hear from her for months at a time? If I don’t hear from her in another month or two, I should probably stop writing till and if I do. I don’t want to be sending letters she may not be getting and have all my time, money and work go to waste.

I finally got Tom to dust and vacuum his office. He even neatened it up a bit, but it won’t last. By the end of the day, the room will be chock full of junk again.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 9, 2000 Got some really shitty news. What else is new, though, huh? This doesn’t pertain to me; it’s about Mary. The lump samples they took from her throat are cancerous. How sad. She is so cursed. Not quite as cursed as we are, and not always in the same ways, but still, hasn’t God put her through enough? She has a type of lymphoma in her throat, and you know what, although I don’t have a death vibe on her, I wonder if she’s “too good” to get through this as well as Bill has (if he wasn’t exaggerating or lying altogether about what he had) because you know how it is – the more of an asshole you are, the more likely you are to live longer, and vice versa. Bill’s been carrying on a normal life for years now and will live a full life, but what about dear, sweet Mary, despite the fact that most cancers are now treatable and survivable? Dear sweet Mary who would never verbally or physically harm a fly? We won’t know more till she sees a cancer doctor next week.

And once again, my anger and hatred towards God and his cruel, unfair ways only deepen.

I asked Tom what one of the most humiliating experiences he ever had was, and this is what he told me: He told me that when he was in the Air Force, he refused to take the required flu shot, not because he had anything against flu shots, but because he felt like he was being controlled by being ordered to put something into his body. So he refused and then a couple of weeks later he got the flu. He said it was humiliating to have to ask for the very thing he refused.

I can relate to his dilemma all too well. I know what it’s like to be controlled and have things forced into my body that I didn’t want in my body (all the years of psych pills). I also know what it’s like to be controlled by not having things in my body I did want in my body once upon a time, too (a kid). Still, I’d trade places with him in an instant. Not that what he went through wasn’t bad, but at least he didn’t go through the same old shit from so many different people, some being your so-called family, and for so many years. I’d also trade in the years of freeloader shit I’ve been going through for a flu shot argument anytime.

It’s back to being June out there, scorching hot. It’ll cool down soon enough, though.

Not much else to report on till the renters blast off tonight, and of course, Dan could decide to get engine happy any time now, as the day cools off.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 2000 Yesterday was sooo humiliating. So so fucking humiliating! But first, I was surprised I only slept till just before 9:00 this morning, but it’s a good thing cuz they are back to booming in the sky. They boomed by just after 9:00 and again a little while ago, and I doubt it’ll be just a few days that they’ll fly this time around. The odds of them crashing another plane so soon seems quite slim. But if they closed the bombing range, then where are they flying to? Maybe what Tom heard was just talk. Anyway, I won’t do a schedule rollover like I’d planned.

Tom agreed with me about Paul not calling cuz he really thought he missed me in court. He was calling to remind me about court. Then why couldn’t he have simply said so? What is it with society and their dancing around the subject? Why is society so afraid to be blunt? The English language was created for a reason. Even so, for some strange reason, people see direct honesty as rudeness.

Tom woke me up at 5:45 with coffee and I was dog tired, cussing the assholes out in my head for waking me up even more here than in Phoenix! By 6:30 we were out the door headed for the dead Denny’s by the hotels we stayed in (and I thought life was so rough and frustrating then!). I got bacon, eggs, pancakes, and sausages. Next time I think I’ll just get pancakes. They’re really good and I don’t have them that often. I also hope that next time there won’t be any ants on the bottom of the syrup holder like there were the last time.

We got to court with nearly an hour to spare. When Paul first came into view, I knew it was him, even though he didn’t look like I pictured him to look. For some reason, I pictured a chunky blond guy, not a thin dark-haired guy. This guy was just under average height, kind of scrawny, fortyish, Italian-looking. Anyway, he bored the fuck out of me with legal talk. The legal talk was basically about the terms and conditions of my plea bargain deal. He said he personally felt this judge we were going to face was “strange,” but not to let myself be shaken up by him. Well, I personally didn’t find anything off about him, but I don’t intimidate that easily anyway, and I’ll be damned if I’ll ever allow myself to be riled up or bullied in any way by any kind of authority figure. It did piss me off when the judge read how an attempted stalking charge meant that I caused the poor little bitch to fear for herself and her family. My ass she was scared! She was pissed, was what she was, and she only went to the cops out of spite. Anything to get at me. Besides, sending journal excerpts is NOT stalking.

I guessed we’d be stuck at the courthouse till noon–1:00 and I was right. What shouldn’t have taken more than a half-hour took nearly 4 fucking hours. I won’t hold my breath, but right now it’s looking like I’m going to get just one year’s probation and counseling, which is better than 3 years of that shit or jail, but I never should’ve had anything to begin with. I did nothing wrong. All I did was express myself. No one forced the bitch to read my mail. I’m sorry if she had a problem with what I said in my journals, but you can’t fuck with people and expect not to have problems as a result of it, and again, the law may say I did wrong, but I say they’re lucky I didn’t do more than I did. A lot more. They got off quite easy by me since it was nothing but words – words I really needed to get off my chest - and I don’t feel one bit sorry for these people. I just don’t.

Anyway, Paul says to me, “Everything will be fine. Believe me, I’m a conservative thinker. I don’t tell all my clients this.”

Yeah, right! I mean, how do I know if he’s bullshitting me or not? The cop bullshitted me, so why/how can I trust him? I won’t know till this is finally over someday, but it is over with the Mexicans. At least, that’s what they told me. Part of the plea deal stipulates they drop the Mexican shit altogether and change the stalking charge to attempted stalking with it being dropped down to a misdemeanor instead of a felony pending “successful” probation (I started with a class 5 felony and now I’m at a class 6 undesignated felony).

Yeah, well, I ain’t about to breathe a sigh of relief and celebrate my finally being free of the black bitch, cuz it’ll take time going by without incident for me to believe it. You know what they say – seeing really is believing. I wonder why they dropped the Mexican lady and kept the black one. Could it be because I called the black bitch and not the Mexican lady? Tom thinks she works in the courts somehow, somewhere, and that’s how she got this pushed as far as it’s gone and knew where we’d be yesterday. He believes Mr. Biased was telling the truth about dropping it, but she abused her authority within the courts to push it and says that’s the type of job a welfare program would have – to wean them into some form of city/court job. Yeah, the fucking bitch looks like court personnel of some kind, so maybe Mr. Biased did tell the truth, and maybe this bitch is abusing some kind of power. There’s no denying that this bitch and Miss Mex look like direct opposites. The Mexican lady was huge and sloppily dressed. This bitch is slim and dresses with style and neatness. A classy-looking professional, so to speak.

We also suspect a huge possibility that Mr. Biased knew damn well it wasn’t over when we had our little “chat,” and that he and the bitch may be close friends – as in VERY close friends – based on the way they carried on in court.

Nonetheless, if having to be arrested, spend the night in jail, and lose all this money and time we lost isn’t humiliating enough, how do you suppose I felt when the bitch and her boy toy showed up to watch things play out in court?! As if I wasn’t already humiliated, degraded and victimized enough!!! This must be how a rape victim feels, I thought, having to face her abuser all over again. It’s a wonder they didn’t show up for my last court date. I know I’ll have to see these sick fucks at least one more time too, cuz they sure as hell wouldn’t want to miss the fun part – the sentencing, which will be on October 30th. No, they wouldn’t miss it for the world. Tom was wrong when he said they’re no longer involved and that it’s just me and the state from here on out unless he didn’t want to tell me differently. I knew deep down that they had a right to be there, but I just didn’t consciously think about it with all I already had on my mind. I should’ve known, though, and it just goes to prove how vindictive and determined this little bitch is. She just doesn’t know when to give up and let sleeping dogs lay and move on. She just won’t go away! I felt victimized all over again by them being there, and I just wanted to fucking smack them! Wanted to shout to them, to the judge, to everyone, that they were 10 times more the perpetrator than I ever was, and list the abuse they put me through, and Tom, too. Wanted to look that bitch in the eye and ask, “Did you really think you could do all you did to us and not get a reaction of some kind in return?” That’s what’s scary about these people; they don’t know right from wrong. They think it’s OK to harass their neighbors, and who knows how far these very sick and very determined people are capable of going, despite their charming appearances? I know they’ve got our address, I just know it. Maybe the Mexicans do too, but truthfully, the Mexicans seem more the type to hunt me down and do God only knows what to the house than the black bitch and company. You just never know with these people. You just never know. Maybe they’re waiting, biding their time. Maybe they’ll come crawling back out of the woodwork in a year or even a few years? Like I said, they just won’t go away. Always with me, always with them.

They say talking or writing about your problems helps, and usually it does, but sometimes it just reinforces all my negative feelings and intensifies my emotions. Tears of anger, frustration and humiliation are in my eyes right now as I write this. How much longer am I going to be these people’s victim? How much more time and money am I going to lose to these people? I know they’re going to end up making me pay a monthly court fee of at least $50, and God knows what they’ll make me pay directly to the bitch herself.

Later…

I have to write about this rather horrendous and traumatic ordeal in spurts. It’s just too upsetting. These fucking freeloaders are still very much a part of my life and it makes me sick!

Hello, Dan. What took you so long to start your engine-gunning shit up again? Yes, it’s definitely Dan. No doubt about that. I brought in one of our 3 box fans, cuz the sound machine’s too soft to drown out his shit, and it looks like this is gonna go on for hours. At least he’s nothing compared to what I had to endure from both sets of freeloaders. I won’t even think of fighting any noise out here, cuz as I learned the hard way, that’d just make things worse.

Tom said that in respect to what I feel about these people, it was funny how she didn’t want to walk by me. Under normal circumstances, I’d find it funny too, but nothing about these sick twists is the least bit funny. Nonetheless, the cock walked by us and sat next to Tom (I was on the aisle). There wasn’t any bench space anywhere else on that side of the room and the front row was reserved for lawyers, so the cock walks by us, glances at me with an I don’t know what kind of expression, then sits next to Tom who was on the inside. The cock’s expression was almost that of a sad one, but I don’t know. This thing never struck me as a very emotional kind of cock, anyway. He’s very Art-like, under his bitch’s thumb. She dictates and dominates the relationship. This would be easy enough to tell even if I hadn’t seen it before in couples like Art and Doe. He’s passive, while she’s an aggressive, loud, tyrant of a bitch who thinks she owns the world and everyone in it.

Anyway, just as he was passing us, she called to him, then spun around and left the courtroom (it would’ve been even funnier if Tom had stuck a leg out and tripped the cock). Maybe he passed us and sat near us to let us know they were there - who knows? They might’ve noticed that I noticed them before. As I turned and glanced towards the aisle, I found myself staring right up at that sick face of hers and she recognized me right away. So shortly afterward, he left, then together they came back and sat on the other side of the room, getting their kicks out of watching me up at the podium as the judge went over the legal terms of my plea just as Paul had, asking if I understood this and that, if I was on any medication, etc., while they got to get away with their shit. How lucky that bitch is that God spared her the humiliation of having to walk by me. Why couldn’t he have spared me the humiliation of being arrested, jailed, and robbed of my time and money by my very own instigators? Huh, God?! God, I hate you!!! I really do!

Maybe he’s compensating me for not having anything happen to me when Stacey and the butch pulled me into court, and for dodging getting served for the bottle toss. I don’t know, but either way, I’ve paid enough! OK? I’ve been made to pay enough! This is wrong and He’s got to know it. Just living with these people for the years I lived with them is enough, to say nothing of all the emotional stress, anguish, anxiety and frustration these people put me through in Phoenix. How much more can you hate me, God? How much more can you punish me? When is enough ever enough? Who are you gonna sic on me when I finally am free of these freeloaders someday? The renters? Dan? Someone else? Someone not even in the area yet?

Later…

Tom got in a little while ago, saying he didn’t hear a thing from Dan. So he didn’t go on for hours this time, huh? I’ll still keep my fan on. This guy’s home all the time, and he could start his shit any time. Besides, the circulating air feels nice.

Got some cinnamon scent cartridges for the office and master bath. Still got that tropical mist oil in the bedroom.

I asked him about the bombing range closing, and yup, it’s all talk and no action. He said he heard they were contemplating shutting it down. They won’t shut it down. I can guarantee that, and if they did, things would get noisier by way of people’s music around here. In a way, I don��t want Dan to shut up, cuz I know I could be replaced with something worse. At least they can’t get right up to the house!

I also asked him why he thought she wasn’t at the courthouse when I was arraigned and he said she wouldn’t have known about it, and remember how the judge asked – has the victim been notified?

Some “victim” she is! Poor, poor little bitch. What a victim - boo hoo!

After seeing the black bitch, I wondered if I saw the Mexican bitch, or at least their associates, but I don’t think so. Not if they dropped them from my life, and I didn’t recognize any of them. Maybe they were in the wrong room or connected to the inmates who were also present in one section of the room. This time, the jail folks didn’t appear on TV, they were there live, sitting in the jury box. There were about a dozen cocks (mostly white) handcuffed and chained together, and a few women, too; two non-whites and a white-zitted blimp. Anyway, a couple of adult female Mexicans with a couple of kids around 5 and 8 sat behind us for a while. Again, I didn’t recognize any of them, but I could’ve sworn that after one of them got up to talk to the sheriff in charge of the chain gang, she gave me a slightly smug smile as she passed by me before she and those she was with left the courtroom. Again, I don’t know if there’s a connection or not.

After the courtroom drama, it was off for more bullshit at the adult probation department where we waited an eternity after I filled out a general info form. A woman finally called me and took my picture with a digital camera. One that takes the picture right onto the floppy rather than onto a card you insert into a special floppy like ours. After that, we went to a different floor where she asked me nearly 200 questions, which took about an hour. A lot of them were alcohol and drug-related and didn’t apply to me. So much for wanting to not give out too much information, as I prefer. I’ve learned through experience and by having information about me used against me that it’s best not to tell people any more than they need to know. I was tempted to lie when she asked me if I’ve ever tried to commit suicide, but I’d already answered enough personal questions as it was, questions that could be checked out and verified, that I decided the truth would be best. She asked me questions about our finances and my family. I told her I wasn’t in contact with my folks and she asked me about my childhood. How was I disciplined as a kid? she asked me. By having the things I liked taken away from me, being emotionally and verbally abused, and sometimes slapped around too, I told her. What was the most traumatic experience I had as a kid? At first my mind was overwhelmed with a zillion different things and I simply told her there were numerous experiences. Later, after the question had time to sink in, it hit me what the answer was: being sent to Brattleboro, Northampton and Valleyhead. Runner-up to that would be my emotional state primarily through my grade school ages. God, was I sooo depressed! Stressed and depressed, but definitely depressed. That woman really depressed me with the way she controlled me and cut me down!

Some questions seemed to be totally irrelevant, like do I think tattoos and body-piercing are OK? I said yes, a person should have the right to do as they choose with their bodies. One amusing question was, are there any gangs, graffiti or gunshots in my neighborhood? There certainly are gunshots! (I explained the hunters to her and just how remote we are) I answered "some" when she asked me if I felt cops really help people and if I felt authority figures abuse their position. I answered "yes" when she asked me if I felt society was to blame for most of the world’s problems. That, and God, but I left God out of it. Again, what people don’t know and don’t need to know won’t hurt them.

After asking me more questions like, do I think it’s OK to obtain money illegally if I can’t legally (naturally I said no, but who knows what I’d really do if I were in a desperate situation), she gave me a couple of envelopes with both addresses and return addresses on them, saying I could get anyone, including Tom, to write a character reference for me. Tom, and maybe Mary too, will be doing this for me, but I don’t see what good it’ll do. Anyone can get someone to write good things about them. So what? Loverboy could write about how wonderful his sick bitch is, but would I believe it? Of course not.

She asked me what I felt I should get for this, and after I expressed the fact that the “victim” isn’t the only victim in this case, I said I felt therapy was enough, but would accept both therapy and probation, stressing my need to “move on.” That was my only lie. What do I really feel I should get? I can’t be given any time back that I’ve lost and nothing can take away the emotional suffering I’ve gone through on account of this, and even physical when my stomach would act up, but what I should get is restitution for any sums of money I lost to this. I should be paid back the bond fee, parking costs, gas money, and things like that.

I’ve got to call my probation officer, Donald, on the 14th, but at least I have over a month before I have to go back to court and be victimized and humiliated all over again. And just because we struck a deal with this plea bargain doesn’t mean it’s guaranteed to stick. It’ll depend on the judge. He could disagree with the deal and send me off to jail, so I haven’t 100% escaped the threat of jail. So, a male PO this time, huh? The woman told me that although she couldn’t be certain, Don may go for just phone contact since I live so far away. Yeah, right! I’ll bet you anything he’ll want to see me within a few days after my call on the 14th. I’m sure he’ll want to see me in person once a week, although if the judge lets us stick to our deal, it’ll lessen over time.

Later…

Tom’s gone to bed. Life may suck in general, but I look forward to the little things in life – reading in bed together this weekend, a stunt show and a new movie I’m taping, etc.

If I remember any more questions the court lady asked me or anything else of significance, I’ll jot it down. Meanwhile, I was determined not to let the little shits get me down, so I enjoyed the rest of my day. Went to a couple of bookstores that were practically side-by-side. One had mostly new books, and I didn’t like the way it was laid out. I like books to be laid out by subject as well as by author. The next store was better organized and most of their stuff was used. I got 4 books, mostly supernatural suspense, rather than mysteries.

I was so exhausted by the time we got back 8 hours later that I napped for a couple of hours. I closed my eyes to block out freeloader thoughts, but they slipped in under my eyelids, for God’s sake! Then into my nightmares, too! That bitch even controls and lives in my damn dreams! I gave a yell as I woke up (I guess we were chasing each other around the courthouse) and Tom was on the phone with Mary who asked what that was. Oops! I’ll tell her in my next letter that I simply had a nightmare.

It was great going to bed last night knowing I wasn’t going to have to get up to an alarm, even if I didn’t sleep as long as I thought I would. I wouldn’t have been able to anyway with them booming by, but I’ll take my chances tomorrow. They might boom by tomorrow, but maybe not, so I’ll sleep in tomorrow, too. Come Sunday or Monday I’ll go back to setting the alarm and getting up around 8:00 - 9:00.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2000 Paul called at 1:00, scaring the shit out of me. He calls apologizing, saying he’s worried he missed me in court, and I was like – What?

I told him court was tomorrow, and he was like – Oh, today’s Wednesday.

I thought to myself, no shit, you stupid ditz! What kind of lawyer forgets this? I wondered if there was some other reason he really called that I wasn’t seeing. The pig that came before the swat team used the Robin H story to verify who I was, the biased pig, God knows why, told me it was over when it wasn’t, so again, am I missing some load of bullshit here? Was he really calling just to see if I was around? I don’t see why he would. I never gave anyone any reason to think I’d run off, as much as I wish I could run from this shit. I’m just so sick of it!!! 4 years. 4 fucking years! When is it ever gonna end, huh? When?!?! God, set me free of these sickos.

Sorry – never mind. You’re the wrong one to be asking for any kind of help.

Our Maricopa freeloaders in the red pickup went in and out quietly. Yup. Stereo is broken. For how long, though? Will they fix it? Learn to live without it? Move out?

I thought I heard planes booming at 2:30, but I couldn’t be sure. It could’ve been thunder, but I don’t know. I didn’t think it was that cloudy. I just hope I can sleep until I wake up naturally the day after tomorrow. I am sooo tired and it’s been sooo long since I’ve slept without having to wake up to an alarm.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 2000 Just left Sharon my weekly message, reminding her that I’ve got court this Thursday. I am not looking forward to this! How humiliating this is going to be! It’s been nearly a year and a half since I lived with the blacks and almost a year since I lived with the Mexicans, yet I still live with them. I still do what they say I have to do.

Always with me, always with them. Will I ever be able to say: Once with them, but never again? After 4 years of this bullshit, I highly doubt it.

I’m a little disappointed in Mary. Not mad like with the blacks, Mexicans, and people back east, but annoyed, irritated, that sort of thing. We’re obviously not getting her big TV, and what irks me is that she even bothered to bring it up. Well, you shouldn’t bring something up like that to a person unless you’re serious. She got me a bit psyched up at the idea, and it’s not the first time I’ve been let down, and it’s certainly not the end of the world either since we have a nice enough TV that they got us for our anniversary, but that’s beside the point. I should’ve known better, too. God wouldn’t let us just have a big screen TV any more than he’d let us just have that trailer. There is a good side to not getting the TV, just like with the trailer, and that’s that we don’t have to be punished for it, cuz anything we do get, we have to pay for in ways that most people don’t.

All I heard yesterday was that 3-minute drive-by bass session from our local freeloaders. I’m sure they’ll let me know at some point, even if it’s just once when they go by again.

Houdini’s behavior was cute and funny the other night. Ratsy’s too. I guess they love tuna fish too, cuz they were both licking extra tuna from a little bowl. These things really will eat anything. That’s one of the disgusting things about rats, as Tom pointed out. When one dies in the wild, other rats eat it.

Later…

I guess Tom will be home any sec. Meanwhile, I’ll do some writing.

Again we researched the black snake to try to identify it. For a minute we thought it could be a black rattlesnake, but once again, its looks and behavior fit that of a coachwhip.

I saw the pickup go quietly home at around 1 PM, and some time yesterday, after they went banging by, they went by quietly. Stereo broken already? It’s too soon to say for sure. After a few more times of going by quietly, I’d say yes, because they wouldn’t opt to not play it that many times in a row, but not until then.

Later…

Tom just got in. Said another tire blew. Thanks again God, for your wonderful timing.

Last night I woke up sweating twice. It was really weird. And when a power failure woke me up at 7:30, right around when I was going to get up anyway, I was sweating then, too. The power was only off for a few minutes. Anyway, it wasn’t the least bit warm in here, so I can’t explain the sweat spells.

This may sound even stranger, but I realized something lately. I’m no longer raging over the assholes back east. Don’t get me wrong, I still hate them, wouldn’t want to associate with them, and would never forgive them, but I no longer find myself gripped with sudden feelings of rage like would be the case for so long (perhaps my final round of mail did it). It’s like with the folks – the emotions I’ve had towards these people have gone numb, and as with the folks, if someone told me they died I would be like – so? I wouldn’t feel anything either way. Despite the years of abuse they’ve dished out to me with their lies, manipulations, control, vindictiveness, negativity, insensitivity, hypocrisy, contradictions, phoniness, moodiness, and despite all the times they were wishy-washy, two-faced, and stabbing me in the back, they’re a completely closed chapter of my life and I don’t want to know them from a hole in the wall.

Later…

Next weekend, when Tom’s here when I get up, I’ll have to have him do something I haven’t had him do in a while - take my measurements.

I tend to leave him messages throughout the day, letting him know this and that, so I don’t forget to tell him later on. In one of my messages, I let him know that telling me to “talk less” when I mention anything about sex, is a major turn-off to me. I was like – you mean I can discuss it with my therapist, but not my husband? Gee, thanks! Anyway, he tells me he didn’t mean never to talk about it at all, but not at that moment. I told him he should reword himself next time and say to “talk later.”

I haven’t seen one prairie dog today. Haven’t seen hardly any lately, no doubt cuz of the snakes hanging around. I kept telling Tom I vibed snakes being under the bedroom and he’d laugh at me. Well, laugh no more, I told him, cuz today I saw a black snake go under the skirting by the bedroom. It could’ve walked up to the side of the bedroom, then slither around the corner to the retreat, but I doubt it, judging by its angle.

Looked back to see when I had my first prairie dog, Iggy, and snake sightings. First saw the prairie dog in March, the iguana in April, and the snake in May.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 2000 I couldn’t get into the book. Well, I’ll just wait till Thursday. Thursday, after court, we plan on stopping at a used bookstore.

This is the quietest Labor Day I’ve experienced in the last decade. Well, that might be stretching it a bit. Labor Day of ’96 and ’97 were basically the only noisy ones of the last decade, thanks to the blacks. The blacks were quiet for ‘98’s cuz of my city letter, although I’m not sure. I thought I didn’t send the letter till late ’98 or early ’99 (I should’ve sent it in March ’96), but I know there was a Labor Day when they surprised me by going somewhere else for a change. Other than that, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s, everything had to be celebrated at their place at our expense. The Mexicans, on the other hand, weren’t any noisier than usual cuz to them, Labor Day was like any other day, cuz they were too lazy to work. The blacks did work, and I don’t get how they got a free house any more than the Mexicans did. Not only do I not get how you can get a free house simply for being too lazy to work, but I also don’t get how you can get one if you work. If you work, why do you need someone to give you a house? Not that we’d want one, but Tom works, so could we get a free house? I doubt it. I have a feeling we’re too white, and we’re certainly childless. All the hand-me-outs go to those with kids, handicaps, and skin that ain’t white.

I’m surprised it’s been as quiet around here, too. I didn’t expect it to sound like Phoenix, but I thought there’d be some music and gunning, but nope. Not yet, anyway. If anyone blasted off last night, I wouldn’t know it, cuz I didn’t turn the fans off to check. Even the pickup hasn’t returned to making several trips in and out per day.

We screwed earlier, and what a fucking joke, as usual. I not only had the irritation I know I’m stuck with for the rest of my life, but he’s so damn predictable. I told him I’d stop him if he was too soft to go in there. “Talk less,” he told me.

I thought communication was important in a relationship. Well, obviously not to him. Especially when it concerns sex and when you’ve got a husband who dominates sex according to how he wants it, without a care for what you may want. He asked if I wanted to wait cuz I didn’t seem so excited (gee, I wonder why!) but I said it was up to him. So I did him by hand for about 5 minutes, and he went up top for about 1, then suddenly stopped to say he thought our potatoes which were in the oven would be done any time. Any normal guy would’ve carried on till the timer beeped, but he was gonna cum. I know he used that as the perfect excuse to quit before he squirted, but why? Why make such a huge sacrifice when there’s such a thing as birth control? I still don’t get that, and I obviously never will.

He researched potbellied pigs some more online with me in the room with him, and I don’t want one. A miniature pig gets to be a whole 125 pounds and they cost over $100.

We tried researching p-dogs to see if we could find out why I haven’t seen them much lately, but we’re still not sure what they’re called out here. What they call prairie dogs is in the Midwest and is a lot bigger than these. I don’t know if they’re going out of season or if there are snakes around scaring them into hiding.

Later…

I gotta stop saying how I haven’t heard from the freeloaders, or whoever, cuz again, right after I last wrote, the fucking freeloaders went blasting by pretty loud. Tom and I could both hear them from his office. Fucking mother-fucking freeloaders!!! I HATE THEM!!!!!!

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 2000 I did an experiment yesterday and switched from Albuterol back to Primatene and it seemed to help me get to sleep more easily. The Albuterol makes me more jittery so that may be why. Maybe I’ll stick with the Primatene for a while. It was still hard to get up after barely 8 hours of sleep, and I was like – you fucking freeloaders! Fucking freeloaders! Get out of my life! I just want to fucking put them behind me where they belong and get on with my goddamn life – aaaarrrrgggghhh!!!!

Anyway, the good news is that I’m losing weight without even trying. Lately, I’ve had no willpower whatsoever to keep my calorie intake down to 1000 calories, give or take 100. I’m still working out every day, rowing for 3-5 minutes, and doing 15-20 minutes of exercises. Actually, I’d say I’m having an easier time keeping my weight down than I’ve had at losing it. I’m 112½ pounds. Will I get down to 110? I don’t know. I haven’t had any dreams or premonitions saying I will, but my logic says I will. Or at least my wishful thinking does. As I said earlier, though, this may be it. I may not lose any more weight/inches from here on out.

There is one thing I did vibe that happened; the renters blasted off last night. I wouldn’t have known they did without my turning the fans off to listen to what was going on around me. Now, I can’t swear it was them, but it probably was. This was just before 10 PM. Dan’s place was pitch black all night. Again, this is out of character for him when he’s home. When he’s home at night, and inside the house, a window is aglow with light. Back to the renters – I got a distinct feeling last weekend that these people would blast off every weekend, and it goes with my vibes that told me there’d eventually be music from back there. I’m just glad it’s weekly country music, rather than daily Mexican or rap music, but give it time. Just give it time and we’ll have a whole shitload of freeloaders back there, home all day and night with nothing better to do than blast music and harass their neighbors. Anyway, you can hear the beats with no fans on, and I can live with that even though I shouldn’t have to. No one should be forced to listen to other people’s music within their own homes, be it in the city or rural areas. It’s a sick sad thing, but there’s nothing anyone can do about it. Someday, we’ll wish these kinds of stereos still existed, that’s how much louder they’ll keep getting.

When Tom was out burning at 7:00 this morning, he said he saw the renters zipping up and down their property and alongside Dan’s on the motorcycle. That early?! I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, but what would they be out that early on a motorcycle for? Trying to wake up those late Sunday sleepers? Probably so. Tom said he got the impression they were working on the thing, the way they’d try it out, then seem to make some sort of adjustment to it. I think they’re trying to draw attention to them and their place, or else they’d be riding on the roads.

Later…

Earlier, I thought I saw Dan walking around his property, but I can’t be sure. I think it might’ve been him cuz of what he was wearing, and why he’s being so quiet beats me. Maybe that music I heard last night was his, although he never usually sits and listens to it in total darkness. When he blasts off, he’s outside with the place lit up. Anyway, he was wearing a white T-shirt and a white cap. I swear – every time I see this guy, that’s what he’s wearing. Does he own no other outfits? Or are all his shirts white?

Tom helped me get eardrops in the bad ear. I had to have his help because that ear is now totally deaf and I couldn’t tell when the canal was full. I can tell in the other one, cuz sounds get softer as it fills up. He looked in it and said there was a bunch of dead skin, so that may be blocking the canal, but I don’t know. I think I’m deaf in that ear and have been for some time now. No big deal. That’s all I knew for 29 years.

We watched TV together, read together, and did things on our own; he raced his car on the computer and I sang. I listened to music, played with Houdini, took a shower, did a little load of laundry after Tom got his work clothes dirty in applying the car’s final epoxy treatment, and now I’m writing. I don’t expect I’ll have anything more to say today, other than to write about tonight’s music, but I can do that tomorrow. I don’t expect we’ll screw today, either. Couples who aren’t really into that tend to put it off till the last minute, and this weekend, the last minute is tomorrow evening. So, I guess I’m gonna shut down early today. I’ll go read one of the two Robin Cook books I think I might like, cuz I finished my third John Sandford book, and hope to hell I like it, cuz I don’t know how soon I can get to a bookstore.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 2000 Last night was quiet. I started to believe Tom’s theory about someone else opening up Dan’s place and getting it ready for him was right, cuz of something I saw that was out of character for Dan. A light outside the back door burned late into the night, yet he’d never have that light on unless he was outside. When he was inside, he’d turn the outside lights off. I know he couldn’t have been outside cuz it was too quiet, and cuz he also has the carport-like thing lit up too, when he’s out. Tom said he heard movement over there while he was out working on the car, but again, time will tell if it’s him, although it probably is. If it is, he’ll blast off or gun off at some point during the weekend, although his shit’s not limited to weekends. He can blast or gun off at any time. Darkness and wind don’t stop him, either. In fact, last winter he seemed to prefer the wind that’d carry his noise even further. Sounds also carry better at night, and he knows more people are around at those times, too. Anyway, I expect to hear music from him and definitely from the renters this afternoon or this evening. Probably more towards the evening.

I can’t wait for it to cool down. Not just cuz I’m sick of the constant heat, but it’ll also help lessen the bugs. These little black bugs bred from the puddles of water that huge storm left, making it impossible to open windows and take advantage of the almost cool, pleasant evening air, cuz they can get right through the screen and they’re more active at night when it’s cooler. Well, slowly but surely the weather’s cooling down, but we probably won’t need heat till well into October.

It’s funny to think that all apartments in the northeast had their heat turned on yesterday. It’s the law that they go on September 1st and stay on till June 1st. This was always a miserable time for me, Labor Day, as a kid. This is when we’d leave the beach in Old Lyme, CT, and head to our MA house in Longmeadow. Although I preferred the house over the cottage, it was a depressing time cuz school was about to start, and I hated school. Especially grade school. I liked middle school better, and high school even better. The real one, that is.

I was watching shows about airplane disasters and car crashes. I found the test car crashes with dummies to be the scariest, cuz car wrecks are so much more common than plane crashes. Even a lower-impact car crash is very violent.

Last night my mind got a little racy on me. I’ve been getting up a half-hour earlier each day, yet I’m still going to bed at midnight–1:00, cuz I’m all wound up. A 3mg Melatonin alone just won’t knock me out. I need Benadryl, too.

In my mind, I kept going back and forth between, “If only I had just taken their shit! If only I’d been a doormat and let them stomp all over me while I turned the other cheek and at least pretended to ignore them since I couldn’t ignore them for real, cuz then I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Then I’d switch to, “If they had just shut up and left me the fuck alone, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Tammy and I once argued over blacks. She asked me, “How many good “N’s” do you know?” and I defended these people. Can you believe it? I defended them! How embarrassing to think I defended them, but anyway, as time went on and I got fucked over by more blacks, I was the one to ask myself, “Yeah, how many do you know?” Not many. Not very many at all. There may be 100 white assholes for every 1 good white, but there are 1000 non-white assholes for every 1 good non-white. I don’t know if it’s something in their culture, their genes, or what, but I’d be kidding myself to say they’re no better or worse than us. 80% of the prison population is black for a reason. I think it’s cuz they’re caught in the past. I think, be it subconsciously or not, they’re using the fact that their ancestors were slaves as an excuse to act out. They somehow feel justified by the way they were treated in the past. When are they ever gonna let go, grow up, and move on?

Later…

Wow, it took till 3:00 in the afternoon to hit 100 degrees. Yes, it’s cooling off.

Tom’s in the shower now after working on the car. He said it was much easier to fix than he thought it’d be. That’s a first. And it didn’t cost anything, either. Just time.

I’ve been seeing this same lizard around a lot. The way I know it’s the same lizard is cuz its tail is missing. I also noticed little pink flowers sprouting up through some of the weeds out there.

For the not-so-cool news. No, Dan and the renters haven’t acted up yet, but the pickup got its stereo fixed just in time for Labor Day. So now I gotta listen to that blast by till it breaks again. I’m hoping that when it breaks again, if it breaks again, they’ll either not bother fixing it, or that they’ll move out (then God can replace me with a new blaster). My guess is that they’d move out before they just threw a $400 stereo away. And again, these people need things like this almost as much as they need oxygen. In fact, I don’t know what the fuck any of these Mexicans are doing out here in the first place? Why would they want to be out here? There’s nothing for them out here that I can see.

I’m not at all looking forward to tomorrow’s bullshit sex session, although he may put it off till the last minute and wait till late Monday. I can’t remember anymore when sex used to bring me pleasure. Instead of bringing me any pleasure, all it brings me is pain and boredom. Even though I only feel it when we screw, I’m sure it’ll hurt when he goes in there. The skin around the opening just never heals. Tell me I’m not sexually hexed, given all the irritation I’ve had and the kind of sex I’ve had with people, and I’ll tell you you’re full of shit. It’s too obvious it’s a curse. No one gets this “unlucky” with sex year after year after year.

Later…

The pickup went by quietly. Broken already? Nah, I doubt it. There were at least half a dozen freeloaders this time around and they probably had the music off so they could hear each other discuss what drugs they were gonna buy/sell. They’re more active again. Yeah, having the stereo fixed will probably prompt them to come and go more often. Gotta get out and spread the holy bass!

Later…

Time goes by. I live my life. I think about the everyday things in life. And then this court shit pops into my head, souring my mood, quickening my heartbeat.

No activity at Dan’s or the renters. Too early, too hot. Although the southwestern heat has never failed to keep outdoor activity down like the northeastern cold.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 2000 When I got up this morning, I was surprised to hear the well running. I thought that only ran from around 6 PM-midnight. I was also surprised to hear gunshots too, as soon as I turned the fan off, although I couldn’t hear the well till I opened the window. I didn’t think hunting season started till November. I was surprised someone would be hunting this early in the year, on a weekday, and as late as 9:30, although they hunt between 6:00 to that time and even later during the winter. You can even hear afternoon gunshots then.

In the trailer, we heard gunshots and dogs. In the house, it’s music and engines. I’m certainly not as stressed out as I was when Labor Day in Phoenix came around, but I’m not totally relaxed, either. People need to be heard. Maybe not as much out here as in Phoenix, but they still need some attention and acknowledgment.

Another thing that surprises me is that I’m going on day 4 of being stuck, although I expect I’ll go some time today, I still woke up a pound lighter yesterday and another pound lighter today, weighing 114. I’ve done nothing to cut my calories lately and have been plugged up, so I’m surprised I’m not close to 120.

Houdini’s turned into a morning rat. He’s waiting for me when I get up, then after I’ve had my coffee, he likes to run around for a while till I send him home with some cheese.

Later…

Here we go with the damn motorcycle. I expect to hear that nearly every day. Personally, I prefer that over Dan’s gunning, cuz the motorcycle’s higher pitched and easier to drown out with fans, but I need something more like music to take out Dan’s gunning. Speaking of lonely boy, I’m surprised I haven’t heard from him yet, although the weekend’s not quite here. It appears he hasn’t been out at all today. Probably sleeping in after the long drive. He could’ve flown back from Indiana, but he strikes me as more of a driver than a flyer. I asked myself how he could afford two places since he’s home more often than not. He only seems to work 20-30 hours a week, but look at what he lives in. He has an old single-wide dump and he’s skinny as a rail, so he probably doesn’t eat much. He probably has an old dive in Indiana too, so all he really has cost-wise is electricity and phone. I’ll bet his places are paid for.

No more motorcycle? Maybe they took it to actually go somewhere, rather than to ride around their property and zip up and down Meadow Green.

I am not looking forward to the 7th, knowing I gotta go in there and make like I’m the only one that did wrong, although again, it’s a debatable and a matter of opinion as to whether or not I did wrong, even though the laws say I did, and basically kiss ass and hope to dodge jail. If ever there’ll be a time I gotta feel totally degraded, humiliated and controlled, it’ll be in court. I’m just so sick of other people telling me what I gotta do and where I gotta go! I’m not a kid anymore! I just want to live my own life, for God’s sake!

Later…

Mr. Motorcycle is still out living it up, zipping up and down its yard and the street, but not by our house. That tells me that yes, I’m definitely, definitely in for a concert from them this weekend. That in itself (the cycling) is a definite I-want-attention thing. A surefire look-at-me, listen-to-me thing. Fortunately, I can’t hear the motorcycle that well in here. If it were just a few feet away – ugh! Not even fans could drown it out and I’d have to have music playing incredibly loud or listen to music through headphones.

Tom’s home now. Got some shiny foil-like stickers in the mail from a back-to-school ad. Seeing that I haven’t heard from the art school about what their courses entail, and their prices, I’d say that yes, they’re definite quacks. If you can’t be up front with someone about your business, then you’re probably shady in some way.

Tom said that the gate is open, but it’s not open the way it’s usually open, suggesting someone may be getting the place ready for Dan. But what about the engine gunning? I asked. He said that’s something someone would do – get engines ready on vehicles that hadn’t been driven in a while. This weekend will tell, but I think he’s there, even though I only heard one vehicle (he has several trucks) being revved for a few seconds. Nonetheless, if he’s there, we’ll hear his music/engines.

I ditched the lesbo story I had begun. Again, it just wore off me. I get in sudden moods to write stories, I begin the story, then the desire wears off.

I told Tom that if he ever decided he wanted a job change, although I can’t see him wanting to go to college any more than I ever did (wow, something we actually have in common!), he’d make a damn good public defender. Or some kind of defense attorney. This is because of how much he likes to defend whoever’s being accused of whatever or at least suggest reasons why they could be innocent, and because of his opposite obsession. He’s hooked on disagreeing and wanting to be different in any way he can. Being a defense attorney would be great for him so he could defend his client and challenge the DA.

[arpov-blog-blog]

Hopium Chronicles By Simon Rosenberg

Great New Biden Ad, Biden Leads in 4 New Polls, Gov. Newsom Helps Celebrate Hopium's 1st Birthday!

SIMON ROSENBERG MAR 9, 2024

Great New Biden Ad, “For You” - The 1st Biden ad of the general election dropped this morning and it is just great. Strong, warm, funny. A really start to the general. Do watch fellow info warriors and share this through your networks and organizations this weekend. We need as many people to see it as possible.

Here’s the releases from the campaign:

In “For You” President Biden Touts His Historic Record, Points Out Trump’s Lack Thereof   In “For You” President Biden discusses how his wisdom, experience, and—yes, even age—have been critical to getting big things done for the American people in his first term, and the choice Americans will face this November between Joe Biden’s experienced and effective leadership versus Donald Trump and his assault on Americans’ rights and democracy. The six-week ad flight will air on national cable and local broadcast and cable television in Michigan, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin, Arizona, Georgia, Nevada, and North Carolina. The ad campaign will target audiences in the key markets of Detroit, Flint, Grand Rapids, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Harrisburg, Milwaukee, Madison, Green Bay, Phoenix, Atlanta, Las Vegas, and Raleigh, with a focus on voters of color and young voters. The ad will air on popular entertainment and sports programming on stations like ESPN, TNT, FX, Adult Swim, and Comedy Central and during high-viewership moments like the NCAA March Madness Tournament. It will also run digitally across platforms – with a heavy emphasis on Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube. The following is a statement from Biden-Harris Campaign Communications Director Michael Tyler: “Y'all want to talk about age? Let's talk about age. At 77, Joe Biden beat Donald Trump. At 78, he led us through the COVID crisis, put us on a path to creating nearly 15 million new jobs since the day he took office, and passed the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law to repair our roads and bridges and expand access to broadband internet to every community. At 79, he got us the most significant gun safety legislation in a generation and became the first president to beat Big Pharma and cap the cost of insulin at $35 for seniors. At the same time, he made the single largest investment in history to combat climate change – all before his 80th birthday. Meanwhile, the only helpful thing Donald Trump did for the American people in four years was lose the 2020 election to Joe Biden – and it’s the one thing he won’t take credit for.” “Now, Joe Biden is 81 and he's going to beat Donald Trump again because he wakes up every single day fighting for the American people while Trump wages a campaign of revenge and retribution focused on himself. Trump may be four years younger than Joe Biden, but his ideas are old as hell and they've already been rejected by the American people. Joe Biden is running to make sure we reject them for good.”

The general election is here my friends. Make sure you sign up for the Biden-Harris campaign today. Give whatever you can - $5, $10 or more - to get going. As we discussed yesterday, Joe Biden has made it clear he is fighting for us. Now we need to go fight for him!

Biden Leads in 4 New National Polls - Even before his powerful State of The Union speech, the President has had his best week of polling in some time. Four new, national polls show him leading. He made meaningful gains in all of them, and all 4 had more interviews than the most recent NYT poll (you can find the polls at 538). Here they are, Biden-Trump:

47%-44% Kaiser Family Foundation (7 pt Biden gain since last poll)

51%-49% Emerson (3 pt Biden gain since last poll)

44%-43% Morning Consult (5 pt Biden gain over past month)

43%-42% TIPP (3 pt Biden gain since last poll)

A central reason I’ve been so optimistic about us winning in November is that I always believed that when it became clear to voters that it was Biden vs Trump, and the Biden campaign began in earnest, a big chunk of our wandering coalition would come home. Biden would then gain 3-4 points and open up a small but meaningful lead in national polling. It’s possible that is what we we’re seeing now. It’s what Morning Consult found in their polling this week:

Biden retakes lead from Trump: Biden leads Trump, the likeliest Republican presidential nominee for 2024, by 1 percentage point (44% to 43%) in our latest national tracking survey. It’s Biden’s first lead over Trump since early January, and is driven by coalescence among the voters who backed him last time around: 85% of Biden 2020 voters say they’d vote for him if the election were today, the largest share since early September.

We begin the general election with the race close and competitive. Trump does not lead, nor he is favored. As I wrote recently, there are serious warning signs about ongoing Trump/Republican struggles and underperformance right now for those who want to see them. Yes, we have work to do to win this election and get to 55. But it is doable work, work that we can do, whereas their job of selling a more dangerous and extreme MAGA to a country which has rejected it in 2018, 2020, 2022 and 2023 is far, far harder.

[finelinevogue]

hiii idk if ur comfortable doing this but im recovering from one and it would mean the world but could you do one where the reader has/had an eating disorder and when eating harry just kinda comforts her because he knows its harder to eat etc (i hope u get what i mean :( )

hi! hope you’re having a lovely day! first of all i am really proud of you and you in turn should be really proud of yourself! this one is especially for you, for me and for anyone who is going through or recovering from an ED. please read whenever you feel comfortable in doing so and that’s okay if today is not that day <333 love you

It was a bad day.

Not very often do you have them anymore, but when you do have them you feel as though you will never be good enough and that things will never get better.

When you were younger you developed an eating disorder, but never used to see it as being a problem. It started off as not snacking as often as you used to, specifically cutting out sugar and fat from your diet completely. Over time it grew to not having lunch, breakfast or dinner and then all three altogether. Your stomach shrunk and you kept your stomach tide over with water - at least that had no calories. The pains in your stomach became normal, but the pain against your heart was so much worse.

Because people began to notice.

It would be a small comment like “you look like you’ve lost weight” or “you’re all but skin and bone”, but it would make you realise, just for a minute, that maybe what you were doing to yourself was more significant than you first thought. But you continued, because you had to be enough. You wanted that flat stomach. You wanted that thigh gap. You wanted to be the skinny girl that could be picked up. You wanted to fit in clothes less than a size 10. You wanted to be able to be confident in showing more skin. You just wanted to feel beautiful - be pretty.

It wasn’t until Harry came into your life that things started to change. He didn’t make any comments about your weight, ever, but only encouraged you to do what felt right to you. When you asked him to help you find a therapist, because you finally had someone to support you through it all, he was ready with his laptop and notebook. When you asked him to make a slightly bigger portion for you today, he would make his the same size so you didn’t feel like you were being greedy. He was your equal. When you asked him whether he loved you he never responded with words, but actions. Kisses. Sex. Chocolate. Flowers. Soapy baths. Nail painting. Hand holding. Cuddling. It was a surprise each time as to what he would do, but it showed you how much he really did love you.

Since being with Harry he had guided you through putting on weight, with the aid of your therapist and your fitness coach too. You had come so far, even with still a long way to go, and for that Harry was forever proud of you.

Harry is proud of you.

Some days it was hard to believe that though. Some days you slipped. Some days that dark cloud reminded you of all the negative things you once believed about yourself. Some days were like today.

“Y/N i’m home!” Harry called through your shared apartment.

You were still in bed. He’d left you this morning to go record some stuff in the studio, silently kissing your forehead goodbye as you slept still. Today was a day where you reminded yourself of all the bad thoughts you used to think about secondly. Today you couldn’t find the strength to get out of bed and go eat, but scroll through models instagrams and pick out all the things you wished you had instead of them. Kendall Jenners figure. Kaia Gerber’s youth. Gigi Hadid’s eyes. The list was endless.

The only time you’d gotten yourself of bed had been to go to the toilet. You had thought about intentionally making yourself sick, a deadly habit that you’d worked hard to overcome, but with much strain, tears and a shout at yourself in the mirror you managed to walk away.

“Baby?” Harry called out again, but your throat was so dry that he hadn’t heard you call out that you were in the bedroom.

When he walked through the bedroom he instantly knew it had been a bad day. You were tucked up underneath all the covers, with tear marks staining your face and the hood, of his Green Bay Packers hoodie, pulled up over your head. You chewed on the strings of his hoodie, a sign that you were physically hungry but your brain wasn’t allowing you to process that you were.

“Harry?” Your voiced rasped out, turning to see his beautiful, glowing, face.

“It’s alright lovie, let it out. I’m right here, you’re okay.” He cooed, immediately climbing into bed next to you so that he was facing you. He took the strings out of your mouth and traced his finger over your bottom lip, leaning in for a quick kiss. It was his way of letting you know he was here with you.

“I-i’m sorry.” You whimpered, your bottom lip trembling.

“Wait one minute lovie,” Harry shot up out of bed, leaving you confused as to what he was doing, but when he came back with a tall glass of water your eyes watered over with admiration for him, “just sit up and take a sip of this for me baby.”

You nodded wearily and took a few gulps of the water, finding pleasure in the way it quenched the thirst in the back of your throat.

“Thank you.” You smiled, handing him back the glass half-full.

“And thank you.” He replied, kissing your forehead softly. “Was it a tough day?”

Harry leaned back against the headboard and brought you to lay on top of him, your head against his chest. It was comforting to hear his heart beat the same rhythm as yours. He pulled the hood down so he could tangle his fingers through your hair - a comforting method he’d come to know you loved.

“Just felt really bad this morning and then I wanted to so badly go make myself sick,” you felt Harry tense up a little at your words, “but I didn’t and now I feel really angry and frustrated about it. I just… oh I don’t know H.” Your words deflated.

“Baby listen to me, you made it through the day! That may not seem like an achievement but is fucking is! You did so great and I couldn’t be prouder of you. Really truly.”

You moved your head to look up at him, a glimmer of hope in his eyes that he was breaking through to you.

“Just didn’t feel good enough today to eat.” You swallowed the lump back in your throat.

“That’s okay if you didn’t eat, but I won’t let you a second more of today thinking you aren’t good enough because you are worth so much more than that. You are worth the stars and more. I love you more and more every day and i’m proud to have you mine.” His words were the most comforting you’d heard yet.

“Stars?” You questioned for some silly reason.

“And moons and planets and galaxies. I wish you could see that, baby.” He kissed you on your forehead again, letting his lips linger a little longer this time. “You don’t have to feel bad or apologise for today, because I know you’ll love yourself tomorrow.”

“How?”

“Because you’re stronger than you know. Today isn’t defeat, it’s just a pause for what tomorrow is going to be.” He hugged you tighter, squishing you to make you feel his love.

“And what is tomorrow going to be?”

“Better.”

And that was exactly it. Tomorrow didn’t have to be perfect, and today didn’t have to either, just as long as it was better. Not best; better. It was all about small steps and learning that it’s not all about leaps of faith. It was about learning to love yourself, by yourself. It was about being okay with the bad days, because you know you’ll have fucking amazing days to make up for it. It’s just about making those days that bit more amazing - that bit better.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Laisse tomber les filles 7

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; sexual acts and dubcon (not explicitly tagged for a surprise but nothing extreme).

This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.

Note: We back at it again! Happy Tuesday.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

‘When I was nineteen, pureness was the great issue...I saw the world divided into people who had slept with somebody and people who hadn’t, and this seemed the only really significant difference between one person and another. I thought a spectacular change would come over me the day I crossed the boundary line.’

You read and reread the paragraph. You couldn’t help it. The first time you read that book, you just didn’t get the cynicism. There were still parts you couldn’t quite relate to. But that passage sank into you like a pebble in water. You felt changed already and after something so little.

You hadn’t seen Lee since Saturday. He had your number now and called at night. A few times, there was noise in the background; people, cars, life. You realised he must’ve been at a payphone, taking a moment away from his patrol. That was another thing about him; he felt so established, so wise, and that made you feel even less.

When the phone began to ring that night, you ignored it. And when it stopped, you picked up the receiver and dialed the only number you knew. Your mom picked up and you heard the sink running in the background. She was always busy when you called.

“Mom,” you said, “it’s me.”

“Oh, hi, dear,” she replied in her creaky tone, “how are you? Oh, is something wrong?”

“Um… I’m okay, I just wanted to call, I…” you thought of telling her about Lee but you weren’t really sure how. You weren’t even sure why you called her, only that you felt alone. “I miss you and daddy.”

“We miss you, too,” you heard her steps and her grunt as she stretched the cord and twisted off the faucet. “He’s been working hard down at the steel yard and he’s so proud. All the other men tell him to hush up when he brags about you.”

“Yeah? I… I’m working hard. Got an A on my last paper,” you played with the coiled cord.

“That’s great, dear,” she chimed, “are you sure you’re okay? You sound tired.”

“I am tired,” you said, “that’s all. Studying and all that.”

“I hope so. I wouldn’t want you going out late to one of those parties,” she tittered, “Noreen’s son got arrested at one of those and spent a night in jail. They spent their mortgage to get him out.”

“No, no, I don’t, um, go to parties,” you assured, not adding that no one would even think to invite you to one.

“Oh, dear, I’m sorry, I’ll have to call back tomorrow,” she sighed as you heard the door clamour, “your father’s so intent on hurting himself these days.”

“Okay, um, it’s alright, I’ll talk later, love y--” the phone went dead and you listened to the dull tone.

You put the receiver back in the cradle and tapped your fingers on your lips. You picked up your book and sat back on your bed. You couldn’t focus on the words though as your mind lingered on the familiar sounds of home. You missed it terribly. You just wanted to take the bus and go hide in your old childhood bed.

The phone rang again. You knew it wasn’t your mother. You left it and when it silenced, there was only a second before it started again. You waited until the next lull and moved the receiver off the cradle and let the low hum rise from the speaker. You kept it off the hook and closed your book.

You didn’t want to deal with any of that today. Not Lee, not Plath, not the plague of woes that roiled your stomach. You flopped onto your bed and pulled your pillow over your head. You weren’t going to think again until your morning lecture.

📚

You sat near the front of the hall with your elbow on the small fold-out desk. You swirled your pen lazily in the air as you listened to the professor expound on the flaws of historical revisionism. He wasn’t the type to entertain questions or comments, he merely ranted and expected you to note those few words of value amidst the sea of thoughts.

You yawned, exhausted despite an early night. You felt empty and drained those last four days. Ever since…

You didn’t think about it. Tried not to even as it tugged at your mind. When the memory managed to poke through, you felt the same tingle between your legs and your cheeks burned in humiliation. 

How had you let it happen? How could you let yourself do that?

You were so confused by it all. How could it be wrong if Lee said it was right? He was older, he was a cop, and he knew much more than you. You never even kissed a boy before him and he was so confident in everything he did that he must be doing it all right. 

Besides, after everything, if you refused him, you’d have only been leading him on and using him for his kindness, even if you didn’t realise what you were doing. Because what you did know was that he was a man and you were a woman and that he was doing nice things for you. And you accepted them all. The least you could do was bide his affection. That was the age old exchange, was it not?

“Next week, we’ll review chapters five and six,” the professor’s tone piqued as his ramble subsided, “I expect a class discussion and you can expect ten percent of your mark to be evaluated from your contribution and I will know if you just ‘skimmed’ the introduction.’

The class grumbled as he dismissed you and you stood slowly, stretching the cramp from your leg. You packed up your bag and hauled it on your shoulder. You had a gap between that class and your afternoon publishing class. You trailed out behind the flow of chattering students but found many of them lowered their voices as they came out into the hall.

There voices fell to whispers as they entered the hall. The sight of a brown hat assured you of the reason. Sheriff Bodecker stood against the painted brick and watched the students pass by, each eyeing him nervously and some chuckling under their breaths nervously. You tried to hide behind a taller student but your name tripped you up.

Despite your efforts to maintain your invisibility, he’d spotted you and you knew you could run away. Several of your peers craned around to watch you, no doubt suspecting some trouble on your part. You dragged your feet and stepped out of the tide of fleeing co-eds to stand along the wall with Lee.

“Hi,” you said quietly.

“Young lady,” he said staunchly and kept his eyes on the other students, nodding at them darkly as they passed.

He waited until the hall was empty before he turned on you. You fidgeted and caught your bag as it slipped from your shoulder. Your thoughts wrinkled above your brow and you stared at his brown leather shoes.

“How did you… find me here?”

He was silent as he reached in his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He opened it and showed you a print-out of your schedule.

“Easy enough,” he tapped his badge nonchalantly, “I was worried. You didn’t answer last night.”

“I fell asleep early,” you said weakly, “morning lecture, you know?”

“Mmm,” he hummed, “not that early.”

“I’m sorry, I was sleep--”

“You’re no good at lying and I don’t like you telling me fibs,” he growled, “you playin’ around with me, honey.”

“No, I…” you blinked as he folded the paper back into his pocket and pushed his jacket back to settle his hand on his pistol.

“Did you forget who I am? What I am?” he arched a brow darkly.

“N-No, sir, I… I got schoolwork and--”

“You can’t stop and talk to me for ten minutes?” he challenged, “you hurt me, honey. I’m out on patrol all night, in danger, and the only thing I got to look forward to is hearing your sweet voice.”

“I, um, I… er, I’m confused,” you eked out, “I don’t know… I…”

“Honey,” he leaned in and his hot breath glossed over you as he lowered his voice, “you know what this is, we both know what a bad girl you were on Saturday.”

“I didn’t…” you swallowed and choked on your voice, “I gotta go to the library--”

You tried to turn away but were pulled back by his tight grip on your arm. He forced you against the wall and knocked the wind from you as your bag tumbled from your arm. You gasped and stared up at him in fright. In that moment, he seemed bigger than ever; taller, thicker, and strong as hell. Stronger than you for sure.

“You don’t go nowhere ‘less I say you do,” his other hand shifted on his gun, “you got me?”

“What are you-- I didn’t… why are you being mean?”

“Me? Honey pie, you been avoiding me and I’m mean?” he snarled.

“I wasn’t avoiding you, I’m just... busy,” you whimpered as he squeezed your arm so tight it throbbed, “you’re hurting me.”

“You’re hurting me,” he hissed, “you think I got time to be comin’ down here on duty to find you?”

“You didn’t have to--”

“I did,” he barked, “I had to make sure you weren’t hussyin’ around with any other boys, like I found you last week.”

“I told you, that wasn’t--”

“Shhhhh,” his hand flew to your chin and forced your mouth shut, “I don’t got the time for this, honey. I’ll be around tonight and you’ll wear a pretty dress for me, won’t you?”

You clenched your jaw and nodded stiffly as his thumb toyed with your lip. He smiled and the tension left his grasp.

“Good girl,” he drew away and squared his shoulders, “you be ready at six and don’t keep me waitin’ again.”

“Yes, sir,” you croaked.

“Mmm,” he nodded with a smirk, “you know, I think I do prefer ‘sir’.” He bent and kissed your lips before you could turn away. You let him and he stood straight again and adjusted his belt, “six o’clock, honey pie.”

[hellomynameisbisexual]

Andrew Ford was questioned and fetishized when he came out as bisexual. The gay community insisted he wasn’t being honest with himself; women at clubs started to excitedly fantasize about hooking up with two guys at the same time.

All the while, the soccer standout stayed true to himself. Ford came out his freshman year at Malone University, a small Christian liberal arts college in Canton, Ohio — home of the Pro Football Hall of Fame. His friends and teammates were accepting, which was an incredible relief. But his journey into the LGBTQ community was a little more rocky.

“I got a lot of pressure from the gay community,” Ford told me recently on the phone. “I felt like I was misunderstood, and didn’t know who I was.”

Ford is one of an increasing number of openly bisexual college-aged athletes whom we’ve profiled recently on Outsports. Despite some surveys showing more Americans identify as bisexual than either gay or lesbian, there is a dearth of bi visibility in pop culture and sports.

As bi sportswriter Jeff Rueter challenged me: “name a bisexual man, and don’t say Frank Ocean.”

These kick-ass kids are going to change that.

Biphobia is real

Let’s start here: Biphobia is real. It manifests itself in gestures as seemingly fleeting as dismissive jokes, and actions as harrowing as outright physical violence. Bisexual people typically suffer significantly higher rates of depression and anxiety, domestic violence, sexual assault, and poverty than lesbians, gay men, or straight cisgender people, according to the Human Rights Campaign.

A black-and-white society, most of us grow up with the notion people are either straight or gay. Those attitudes have historically prevailed in the LGBTQ community, too.

Alex Keuroghlian, the Director of the National LGBTQIA+ Health Education Center at the Fenway Institute, says bisexual people can be looked at skeptically.

“Within LGBTQIA+ communities, there has historically been a stigma toward bisexual people, and the false notion that they’re really gay and lesbian people who haven’t accepted that about themselves,” he said.

Megan Duthart, a rower at Washington State University who identifies as both bi and queer, has experienced the stigma first-hand. She says she thinks bisexual people are often excluded in the LGBTQ community.

“I’ve struggled a little bit with being identified as an ‘other’ in the community with the term ‘bisexuality,’” she said.

Why are bi people targeted for erasure?

More people are identifying as bisexual. Over three percent of U.S. adults say they’re bi, according to the 2018 General Social Survey. That’s three times the number as 2008.

And yet, bi people are still targeted for erasure. One of the ways it happens is through language. When people see same-sex couples, for example, they may be inclined to label them as “gay” or “lesbian,” without considering that one or both of the people could identity as bi.

While Americans’ attitudes about sexuality are evolving, many still adhere to more binary definitions of sexual orientation. A recent YouGov poll found 41 percent of American adults don’t think sexuality is a spectrum (conversely, 37 percent think it is).

As Ford puts it, bisexuality is stereotypically viewed as “the stepping stone stage.” That ties into one of the more insidious aspects of bi-erasure: the belief that it’s just a phase. It’s a line Ford recalls hearing many times, from both men and women.

“(Gay men) said, ‘I came out as bisexual first. It’s just a phase, you won’t be there long,’” Ford said. “I was also scared how women would think about it. They wanted to change me. Some of them wanted to use it as a thrill they were seeking.”

When professional hockey player Zach Sullivan came out as bi, his father told him it meant he was still making up his mind.

“I remember what my dad said when I told him,” Sullivan said. “‘Well, you aren’t all the way there. You haven’t really decided.’ I was like, ‘no, I know I’m attracted to both genders. I’m not halfway towards coming out as gay.’”

The bi burden

Every LGBTQ person can relate to the fear and anxiety of coming out. But for most of us, once we do it, it’s over.

That’s not the case for bi people.

“We have to keep coming out to our significant others, whether it’s a man or a woman,” Ford said. “If you’re gay and you start dating a gay, you’re not going to be like, ‘I have to tell you something: I’m gay.’ They’re going to be like, ‘no shit.’”

And once bi people do come out, they could get charged with being greedy — the sexual equivalent of having their cake and eating it, too. The insult angers Sullivan.

“The majority of people in the LGBT+ community have struggled with their sexuality, and when they finally become comfortable enough to come out in the open with their sexuality, I don’t think the first thing to say to someone who’s come out as bisexual is they’re greedy,” Sullivan said. “I took over 10 years to get to where I am.”

Duthart finds the concept of bisexuality can be difficult to explain. She largely identifies as queer.

“I’ve had coaches question whether I’m rebelling or going through a phase,” she said. “Then when I explain the whole queer aspect, they’re like, ‘Oh, OK. That seems more justified.’ I don’t want to have to justify those things, but I sort of have to.”

Changing attitudes

Jack Storrs came out as bisexual last year as a college football captain. His teammates at Pomona-Pitzer rallied around him, and wore Pride decals on their helmets.

But even some who were supportive suggested he was on his way to identifying as gay. Storrs said he couldn’t hide his feelings for men anymore, and came out because he wanted to explore.

Maybe he was gay, maybe he wasn’t. The questions didn't bother him. He was a relieved to have the dialogue.

“It was killing me on the inside,” Storrs said. “It got to the point where I was like, ‘screw it.’ This is who I am, and this was meant to be.”

Nowadays, Storrs says he’s more towards the “gay end of the spectrum,” and expects the fluidity to continue.

He’s cool with that, and numbers show his peers are, too. Generation Z is among the most progressive and diverse in U.S. history. A 2018 study from Ipsos Mori shows only 66 percent of young people today identify exclusively as heterosexual.

Young people have a better understanding of how sexuality can evolve, says Keuroghlian.

“There’s been less of a reflex to box people in, and categorize people in ways that could be static,” he said. “A key part of all of this is not projecting behavior or projecting attraction. People tell us — they self-identify that’s who they are. And we have to honor that.”

Visibility challenges misperceptions

But to get back to Rueter’s question: can you name a famous out bisexual person besides Frank Ocean?

It’s challenging, and the lack of bi visibility may be one of the biggest contributors towards bi-erasure. But that is changing. Each person who comes out as bisexual has the ability to change perceptions within their own communities — and many young athletes are.

Bri Tollie, a bisexual college basketball player at Southern Methodist University, wrote in her coming-out story she refuses to conform.

“It is important to be visible because everyone is unique,” she wrote. “Our uniqueness means no one should not have to give up a part of themselves to conform. It is called self-respect.”

Growing up, Storrs tried to shut off his attraction to guys. He told himself it wasn’t a big deal, but the angst became all-encompassing.

Storrs is done hiding any part of himself. He did that for far too long, and is now out for all to see.

“I am bisexual, and my point is, I don’t really give a shit what anybody else thinks,” Storrs said. “This is who I am, and I don’t have to figure it out, but the reason I’m coming out is to figure it out, or at least get to a point where I’m comfortable.”

With their stories, these young bi athletes are making it more comfortable for bi people every single day.

[therealvinelle]

I've always wondered this, but what do you think the Cullen's political viewpoints would be, given their individual backgrounds? if vampires don't change after they turn, then surely they would all be extremely racist (especially Jasper). would this not come up at some point? they aren't like the Volturi because the Volturi are too old to care, but the Cullens are young enough that they have been brought up with opinions on stuff like sexism, racism, homophobia and the like.

Oh fuck.

You get an early answer because otherwise I'll just chicken out and delete this one, pretend I never saw it.

UMMM.

Since I'm guessing you meant American political viewpoints, we need a disclaimer. I am not American, and not too knowledgeable about your politics. Not just in the sense that I don't follow the day-to-day drama, but as I am not an American citizen there are several things I don't know, can't know because I've never lived in your country and therefore can't know what the effects of living in a country ruled by American policies is like. What I do know is based off of the news in the foreign section, social media (by which I mean tumblr posts), and Trevor Noah's Daily Show.

I am an outsider looking in.

Which is really rather appropriate, since the Cullens are too.

The Cullens go to high school and college, Carlisle works, they pay taxes, they own real estate, and submerge themselves in American culture. Esme, Edward, Rosalie, Emmett, and Bella are young enough that this is in many ways their world, and apart from timeouts they've more or less spent their entire lives, human and vampire, integrated into American society.

Not fully integrated, mind you, they do what they need to to fit in and get to school or, in Carlisle’s case, to work. They go no further. No extra-curriculars for the kids, no book clubs for Esme, no game nights for Carlisle. They walk parallel to humans, not among us.

In addition to this they're obscenely rich, which puts them another thousand miles from the experiences of your average American. They won't deal with the health system, which means healthcare is a non-issue, they're not going to need welfare or other social programs, unemployment is another non-issue. Name your issue, and the Cullens don't have personal stake in it. Even the climate crisis won't be a problem for them the way it will for us.

What I'm trying to say is, American political issues are a concept to them, not a lived reality. Just like they are for me. So hey, you made a great choice of blog to ask.

I'll also add here that you say the Volturi are too old to care, and I agree- from an ancient's point of view, racism is a matter of "which ethnicity are we hating today?", and it all looks rather arbitrary after a while. Same with every other issue - after a while it all just blends together into "what are the humans fighting over today? Which Christian denomination is the correct one? Huh. Good for them, I guess."

I can't put it any better than this post did, really. The Volturi are real people, humans are nerds and tumblr having Loki discourse. Aro thinks it's delightful and knows entirely too much about Watergate (and let's be real, Loki discourse as well), but the point I wanted to get at is that politics really don't matter to vampires.

And I don't think they matter to the Cullens either.

So, moving on to the next point while regretting I didn't put headlines in this post, I'll just state that I don't think vampires' minds are frozen. Their brains are unable to develop further, and they can never forget anything, but... well, this isn't the post for that, but in order for this to be true of vampires they would barely be sentient. They would not be able to process new impressions, to learn new things, nor to have an independent thought process. Yes, we see vampires in-universe (namely, Edward, who romanticizes himself and vampires) believe they're frozen and can never change, but there is no indication that this is a widespread belief, or even true. Quite the contrary - Carlisle went from a preacher's son who wanted to burn all the demons to living in Demon Capital for decades and then becoming a doctor and making a whole family of demons. Clearly, the guy has had a change in attitude over the years. Jasper, in his years as a newborn army general, slowly grew disenchanted with his life and developed depression. James initially meant to kill Victoria and hunted her across the earth, then became fascinated and changed his mind about it.

Had these people been incapable of change, Carlisle would still be hating demons, Jasper would be in Maria's army, and James would still be hunting Victoria.

It goes to follow, then, that they are able to adapt to new things.

The question is, would they?

Here I finally answer your question.

So, we have these people who don't really have any kind of stake in politics, who keep up to date all the same (or are forcibly kept up to date because high school) and are generally opinionated people.

Where do they then fall, politically?

(And this is where you might want to stop reading, anon, because I'm about to eviscerate these people.)

Alice votes for whoever's gonna win. She also makes a fortune off of betting each election. Trump's 1 to 10 victory in 2016 was a great day to be Alice. MAGA!

The actual policies involved are completely irrelevant, she does this because it's fun. Election means she gets to throw parties. Color coded parties for the Republican and Democratic primaries, and US-themed parties for Election Night! (Foreigner moment right here: I at first wrote "Election wake" before realizing that's not what y'all murricans call it.)

Alice loves politics. Doesn't know the issues, but she sure loves politics.

Bella votes Democrat. She actually knows about the issues, and cares about them. This girl is a Democrat through and through.

Carlisle doesn't vote. I can't imagine it feels right. Outside of faked papers he's not a US citizen, this is meddling in human affairs that he knows don't concern him.

More, this guy has never lived in a democracy.

In life, Carlisle lived under an absolute monarchy that, upon civil war, became an absolute theocracy. From there he learned that vampires live under a total dictatorship.

For the first 150 years of his life, democracy was that funky thing the Athenians did in history books thousands of years ago, no more relevant to him than the Ancient Egyptian monarchy is to me. Then the Americans, and later other European countries started doing this.

Good for them.

There's this mistake often made by those who view history from a... for lack of a better term, a solipsistic standpoint. A belief that the present day is the culmination of all of history. “My society is the best society, the most reasonable society; all the others had it backwards. Thank god we’re living in this enlightened age!”

The faith in our current system of government is one such belief. We (pardon me if this doesn’t apply to everybody reading this post) have grown up in democracies, being told this is the ultimate form of rule, and perhaps that is true - but remember the kings who have told their subjects they had were divine and the best possible ruler based on that. Remember also that most modern democracies haven’t actually been democracies for very long at all, America is the longest standing at some 230 years (not long at all in the grand scope of things) and they have a fracturing two-party system to show for it.

Every society, ever, has been told they’re the greatest, and their system of government the most just. Democracy is only the latest hit.

This is relevant to Carlisle because he’s immortal and decidedly not modern. Democracy has not been installed in him the way it was the rest of the Cullens, Jasper included. To him- well, it’s just not his world. He has no stakes in our human politics, and as he is older than every current democracy and has seen quite a few of them fall, he’s not going to internalize the democratic form of rule the way a modern human has.

I think the concept of voting is foreign to him.

It requires a level of participation in human society that he’s simply not at. He does the bare minimum to appear human so he do the work he loves, but nothing more, and I find that telling.

As it is I think he'd be iffy about his family doing it. He won’t stop them, but in voting they’re... well it’s kind of cheating. They’re not really citizens, none of this will affect them, and by voting they’re drowning out the votes of real human voters. He does not approve.

Edward votes Democrat. He's... well he’s the kind of guy who will oil a girl’s bedroom window so he can more easily watch her sleep without being discovered, justifying it to himself as being okay because if she were to tell him to get lost he’d stop immediately. Same guy is so sure that he’d leave and never return again if she wanted him to, except this is the man who returned to Forks to hang around his singer, knowing there was a significant chance he might kill her. To say nothing of his Madonna/Whore complex, or of the fact that he tried to pimp out his wife twice, and was willing to forcibly abort her child.

This guy is very much in love with chivalry, with being an enlightened and feminist man who supports and respects women, while not understanding the entire point of feminism, which is female liberation.

He votes Democrat because he’s such an enlightened feminist who cares about women’s rights.

Emmett doesn’t care to vote, but if he has to he votes Republican. The guy is from the 1930′s, and has major would-be-the-uncle-who-cracks-racist-jokes-if-he-was-older vibes.

Esme doesn’t vote, that would require getting out of the house.

More, I just... can’t see it. I can’t see her being one to read up on politics and The Issues, period, but if she has to then I doubt she’d be able to decide.

Jasper doesn’t vote. Alice can have her fun, he does not care.

There’s also the whole can of worms regarding the last time he went to bat for American politics.

I imagine he stays out of this.

Renesmée doesn't vote. She has no stock in the human affairs. Who would she vote for, on what grounds? When Bella tries to pull her to the urns, she points out that she's three years old.

Rosalie, guys, I’m sorry, but that girl is definitely gonna vote Republican. Perhaps not right now as it’s become the Trump party of insanity, but the Mitt Romney type of Republicans? Oh yes.

And for the record, yes I imagine she does vote. To step back from politics would be another way she was relinquishing her humanity, and that’s not allowed to happen. So, yes, she goes to the urns, less for the sake of the politics involved and more because like this, she’s still a part of society in some way.

Now, onto why I think she’s Republican, I think it’s both fiscal and social.

This girl was the daughter of a banker who somehow profited off of the Depression, and who then became part of a family with no material needs that would soon become billionaires thanks to Alice. Poverty to Rosalie is a non-issue, as it is I imagine she views it as a much lesser issue than what she’s had to deal with. The humans can pull themselves up by their bootstraps, Rosalie’s infertility is forever.

Rosalie’s empathy is strongest when she’s able to project onto others, and she won’t be able to project onto the less fortunate at all.

Then there’s the fact that the Republican party is all about traditional family values, and pro-life.

Rosalie, a woman from the 1930′s who idolizes her human life and who‘d love nothing more than to get to live out this fantasy, is down for that. And as of Breaking Dawn she’s vocally pro-life, so there’s that.

This all being said I don’t think Rosalie cares to sit down and fully understand these politics she’s voting for, the possible impact they’ll have- that’s not important. What’s important is what voting does for her.

TL;DR: I bet anon regrets asking.

[superhero--imagines]

Etsy Store Here l Ko-Fi l Commission Info

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here!/ Playlist Here!

* Alright so here are the facts as you know them

* Gojo’s a goddamn player and a homewrecker

* The boy probably has half of Tokyo after him

* Not that you can blame them, that pretty face had you fooled at first too

* The second fact, it that for whatever reason, Gojo Satoru has chosen to play house with a future hopeful sorcerer named Megumi Fushiguro

* Which, through forces outside your control, you have become involved with as well

* And the last fact, was that as soon as this no longer interested him or benefited him in any way, Gojo Satoru would abandon the situation entirely and act like it never happened

* So-

* “(Y/N/N), you look nice today, did you do something new with your hair?” Gojo sings

* - pray tell, why is the school prince is currently sitting on top of your desk, looking at you with those heart eyes

* “Oi what do you think you’re doing?” You ask, a vein threatening to pop on your forehead

* “I’m flirting with you~” he sings, only leaning closer with that all-too-pleased smile

* “I’m pretty sure this is bullying” you reply

* Ever since you’ve started pseudo-parenting Megumi and Tsumiki, Gojo’s been doing crap like this,

* Sometimes he tries to feed you at lunch,

* “Open wide (Y/N/N)~” He’ll sing as he holds out a piece of sushi towards you on some chopsticks

* Only for Megumi to eat it instead

* “Why do you look so sad papa, I thought you said I was your pride and joy”

* other times he’s holding doors open for you

* “Ah here let me-“

* You watch as he walks across from you and opens the door to a random void shrine

* You look at him before sighing and opening your own door to the library

* The other day you mentioned how you didn’t get to try the limited edition Sakura Pepsi and came back to your dorm with a bottle on your desk

* Which would be cute- if the bottle wasn’t half-empty with a note that he’d that said

* “Sorry, I got thirsty on the way back”

* Seriously he’s the worst- and yet,

* You turned away from Megumi and Gojo bickering, hoping he didn’t notice how flustered you were,

* you hid your laugh behind your hand as Gojo jogs to catch up with you, saying he was just trying to predict your needs-

* And you held the half-full bottle of Sakura Pepsi to your chest, keeping it on your window sill

* Because you love him-

* Even though you know he’s just doing all these things to entertain himself instead of out of genuine affection

* Even though these feeling will do nothing but hurt you

* You still love him

* He makes your life feel exciting and fun

* And more than that, underneath that moronic playboy exterior, is a gentle, lonely heart

* A heart that will run away as soon as it knows how you feel about it

* So you mask your budding feelings as best as you can

* Because the only thing you imagine is more painful than knowing your feelings won’t be returned-

* Is not having Gojo Satoru in your life at all

* So you do your best to pretend like nothing has changed

* You act just as indifferent as you always have-

* “Here-“ you push your dessert in Gojo’s direction. “You like sweets right?”

* His smile is so radiant you almost have to shield your eyes

* Well, mostly indifferent anyway

* Not that the self-absorbed moronic prince has seemed to notice anyway

* Too busy focusing on the scrumptious piece of cake in front of him

* Still Gojo isn’t one to be underestimated, he looks to you with a twinkle in his eyes

* “Let’s share it!”

* So far he’s tried twice to have an indirect kiss with you, and he’s missed twice

* He even threw away those chopsticks when Megumi ate that piece of sushi in frustration

* But you know what they say, third times the charm

* You look at Gojo with a raised eyebrow, gaze flicking between the cake and his face

* What, did he imbue some cursed energy so it would explode when you tried to take a bite

* “No thanks”

* Cue Gojo crying as he eats his cake

* He’s really been doing his best lately to earnestly pursue you

* But for some reason, you just don’t get it

* “I like you,” Gojo says as you’re walking side by side on your way back to the dorm after visiting Megumi

* You look back at him, and Gojo feels a blush start to fan across his face

* He finally did it! He finally confessed to you

* And his heart is drumming away in his chest

* You don’t seem to understand the monumental significance of what just occurred because what your mind heard was

* “I {really} like {teasing} you”

* You sigh, your heart skipped a beat, for a second you almost got your hopes up

* There’s no way lady killer Gojo Satoru would ever pick you to be one of his lovers, and if he did it would just be so you could be apart of his personal harem

* “Ok”

* And then you turn around and walk away

* Gojo can’t help but feel like this is retribution for all the times one of his romantic partners has said ‘I love you’

* And he responded with:

* “Why would you do that to yourself?”

* Or

* “Cool”

* At first he thinks it’s a straight-up rejection, but he figures out pretty fast that you just didn’t get it when you keep acting the same as you always have around him

* But don’t get it wrong babe, none of this deters Gojo in the slightest

* “Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask

* You’re both in the library, but only one of you is actually studying

* Gojo’s been staring at you with an oddly fixated gaze

* Honestly it’s got you feeling an uncomfortable heat spreading from your face to your neck

* “I’m not giving up you know”

* Giving up on what?!?

* What’s going on right now!!?

* But Gojo doesn’t offer any more insight choosing instead to finally bother reading the book in his hands

* What a weird guy

* You look down to your own book

* You feel the heat linger on your face and neck

* It’s because he’s always saying crap like that, that you’ve caught feelings for him

* Well whatever, everything fades right? Eventually, Gojo will probably lose interest in you-

* He’s part of a clan do you imagine they’ll find a nice girl from a respectable family for him to marry

* They’ll probably have a few kids who’ll be next in line to succeed him

* And by then he’ll be in such a prominent position that you’ll never see him again

* He’ll just be a memory

* Some boy you had a youthful unrequited love with

* The thought makes your heart clench but-

* “It’s for the best,” you tell yourself

* You’re going in completely opposite directions in life, you couldn’t possibly home for anything more than what you have

* After all your luck probably ran out the second you saw his face

* The most beautiful man you’ll ever see

* “I bet he would be one of those handsome grandpas when he gets older” you snort

* The kind that charms and flirts with young men and women just because he knows the effect he has on them.

* You still can’t believe you fell in love with someone like that

* “What a pain” you mumble to yourself, falling back on your bed

* You feel uncertain, afraid of the future even.

* Maybe a snack will help

* It’s the middle of the night, way past the time you were supposed to go to bed when you see him in the kitchen

* Great the last person you wanted to run into

* He’s just standing there in front of the fridge with the door open

* He hasn’t even turned around to say hi or anything

* “Oi Baka prince if you leave the door open like that every-“

* You stop mid-word, you only need one look at his face to know something is wrong

* It’s not all that uncommon for him to do something like this-

* See the thing is, Gojo knows he’s strong enough that he will get to choose when he dies- he’s not bound by the same pain the other sorcerers are, but-

* Well, he’s still going to die

* No matter how much he thinks he’s like god, no matter how powerful he is,

* He’s still going to die

* And growing up with the power he’s had and the mindset that he’s the strongest

* The realization can be pretty crippling

* He so afraid of the uncertainty that brings that most times he can’t move

* The worst part is it’s never when he’s actively thinking about death, or even when he’s on the job

* It’s always at times like this when he’s just woken up and is oddly hungry and he’ll remember

* “Oh, I’m going to die aren’t I?”

* And then it’s like he’s frozen solid

* What is it he usually tells the victims that enter his domain?

* “Funny how when you can do everything, you find you can’t do anything”

* Usually he manages to unfreeze after some unspecified amount of time, getting through it on his own

* But this time, when he finally escapes from the domain of his inner mind he’s covered in a layer of sweat just like always-

* But he’s not sure why he sprawled across the floor

* Not until his head shifts a little, only to see your face looming over him

* Omgomgomgomgomgomgomgomg

* He’s resting his head in your lap!!!

* Honestly this has been a fantasy of his for a while, to have his head in your lap while looking at the cherry blossoms, and you feed him chocolates and a gentle wind caresses your face

* BUT NOT LIKE THIS

* “Feeling better?” You ask

* Gojo thinks he might combust, he moves to sit up but winces

* He’s got the worst headache, these little episodes of his do typically end with a migraine

* Your hand feels nice and cold as it rests against his forehead

* “Rest a little longer, we’re not in any hurry”

* Aaaaand now he’s screaming on the inside again

* “Sorry about this” he mumbles, and you can’t help but smile

* It’s oddly endearing to see a shy Gojo Satoru

* “I bet your lovers would kill me if they saw knew you were showing me such a cute side” you’re half-joking when you say it, but you’re also half-serious

* It gives your Ego a little boost to know you’ve seen a side of him that most of his lovers probably haven’t

* You doubt the mighty Gojo Satoru ever allows himself to be this vulnerable, not even while he’s in the throes of passion

* So that same earnest look on his face startles you

* “I don’t have any other lovers”

* You snort

* “Sure, and I definitely didn’t steal Geto’s pudding that he was saving”

* “I’m being serious”

* Gojo sighs, here he is feeling awfully vulnerable and you still seem denser than a rock

* Do you think he would let anyone other than you see him like this

* “When are you going to realize that if it’s not you then it’s just no good?”

* Your heart is drumming in your ears, and you wonder if he can hear it

* Your mind is telling you to pull back, that this is way too good to be true, that this will only hurt you,

* You should get away while you still have a chance

* But instead something in you persists and you say:

* “Why do you think that is”

* Gojo’s hand reaches up, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger, those clear blue eyes looking straight into yours

* Your breath stutters in your chest

* You always have been weak for those eyes

* His pink lips curl up into a smile

* “Because I love you”

* And before you know what you’re doing your bending down, pressing your lips against his

* “I love you too”

Bonus:

* “You can see through it right?” You ask

* Gojo fidgets with the blindfold, honestly he was hoping for a much kinkier reason than replacing his scuffed sunglasses when you gave him the blindfold

* “It’s a little darker, but that’s not a bad thing.”

* His hair is out of his face too which is nice

* But-

* “What’s with the sudden gift?”

* It’s not exactly out of character for you to get the people you care about something, but this seems a little outside of your usual MO

* “I just felt like it” You mumble

* Now that his eyes are covered up you think he might attract a little less attention, and all his former flings probably won’t be able to recognize him

* Your eyes drift to his uniform, even in the gross pantsuit you can still tell he’s got a pretty nice body,

* But you’ll have to adjust

* Gojo sees right through your nonchalant answer, smiling that wolfish grin

* “Aw was my sweetie scared I was going to leave them?” He coos, moving ever so close

* You only turn away your face

* Gojo only grins wider

* “Honey~ you should know by now if it’s not you then I’m not interested” he sings in your ear

[1kook]

imax & climax

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags;  jk is an avid history channel viewer, jk hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, jk goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

notes; there is no rest for the wicked, aka miss 1kook writes another part for this fic i swore wasn't gonna be a series except this time we ditch the gentlemen persona and go into maximum overdrive. its not proofread bc i wrote this entire thing at 4 am last night after inhaled a whole bucket of spicy popcorn

[ part 1 ; netflix & chill ] [ part 2 ; hulu & wohoo ]

Jungkook sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Jungkook’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

“You wanted it,” you announce rather pointedly in the car. He’s backing out of the parking space now, one hand on the wheel the other pressed to the side of your seat. His jaw twitches as he tries to maneuver around a stray shopping cart someone didn’t return to the retrieval area. He’s wearing that dark jumper you like, with the high collar that covers all of last night’s bruises up wonderfully.

Jungkook scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Jungkook greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

“Please don’t ever say that again,” he laughs, pulling to a stop at the next red light. He turns to level you with an easygoing grin, sparkly anime girl eyes extra shiny under the red glow. “Only want you to tickle my pickle.”

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Doyeon swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Doyeon, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Jungkook picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Jungkook’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Jungkook invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Jungkook not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Jungkook is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Jungkookie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Jungkook was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Jungkook rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Jungkook, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Jungkook’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Jungkook apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

She leaves a little after sunset, kissing and hugging the both of you on the doorstep like she’s going off to war and will never return. She’ll be back by the weekend, desperate to check on her baby boy, but you let her have her moment. It’s weird seeing how dramatic the Jeons are compared to how reserved Jungkook is.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Jungkook’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Jungkook laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

“Give it a rest,” he says, shifting you until he’s got you hugged between those stupidly strong arms of his. His pecs feel strong and comforting beneath your cheek, and the feeling makes your tiny pouting session end earlier than usual. “Come on,” he mumbles as he manhandles you around, until your back is pressed against his chest and you’re sitting between his legs. “Let’s watch this film on Mesopotamian folklore and its overall significance to the nations it birthed after its downfall.”

——

You rarely use the key Jungkook gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Jungkook’s house were either  the result of Jungkook picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Jungkook inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

Today you’re alone, juggling two boxes of takeout and some cheap wine in one hand as you fight to unlock his door. He hadn’t answered his phone, which leads you to believe he’s holed himself up again in that damn study. He likes to do that sometimes, lock himself away like some modern day Rapunzel until he finishes whatever project he has this time around. When he gets like this, it’s like all other body functions are forgotten, his brain zeroed in on the lines of code you barely understand.

Just as you suspect, the house is too dark when you finally break in. The hall light is off, which isn’t out of the norm, but so are the kitchen and living room lights. You pad down the hall, flicking on the light to the living room to set down your offerings onto the edge of the coffee table. There’s a scrambled pile of notes on top that seem too disorderly to disregard. You whirl around, making to head back out into the hall and down to the study, when you see it.

A good 90 inches mounted on his wall. It’s a monstrosity of a screen, devouring nearly the entire surface of the wall, from stainless end to stainless end. It’s ridiculously thin in the way all modern TVs are, but this one is even more so given the fact you hadn’t registered it in your peripheral when you walked in. It’s just barely short of a Jumbotron, the kind they have at baseball games to make sure you can see every nose hair on the pitcher.

His mom was going to kill him.

“Jungkook?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Jungkook had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

There’s a soft hum down the hall, the sound slipping beneath the bottom gap in the door frame. You make a beeline for the room, oddly unsettled with the huge screen. The door gives way, exposing your boyfriend’s hunched back and the blue light from his monitors that highlights his frame. “Hi, sweetie,” you begin, inching over to him.

“Hi,” he sighs, leaning back into your touch when you step behind him. His dark eyes are weary from staring at his tablet for too long, his usual tender expression melted into one of mild irritation. “Can’t figure this out,” he says, tapping his stylus against one line of absolute nerd gibberish you don’t bother trying to decipher. Maybe another day you would have entertained him, but today you cherish this moment with him knowing it might be his last before his mom comes over and kills him.

“Sounds like break time to me!” Your proclamation makes him frown, a frustrated groan pulling itself from his lips. His head droops forward again, chin touching his chest. But there’s a hint of relief in his groan that tells you all you need to know. “Baby needs a break,” you smile, pressing a peck against the back of his head.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, Kook, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Namjoon would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Jungkook goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Jungkook doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

He stretches his arms out, moaning something sinful at the way his bones pop. “It adds to the experience,” he says. “Movies are more enjoyable when the pictures are bigger; a tall aspect ratio and stadium seating really add to the experience.” He was such a nerd.

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Jungkook doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “Kook, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Jungkook’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Too bad you’re evil and determined. “No! We are watching the Princess and the Pauper and that’s final,” you exclaim, scrambling for the movie before he can hurl it out the window. He catches you by the waist, your fingers just an inch away from the pink case. “Babe!” you cry, but his fingerprints are bruising their way into your skin.

“No more Barbie movies,” he begs, yanking you back onto his lap. He does so with so much force that it makes the two of you tumble to the side, your head bouncing on the cushions as he catches himself over you. “Please.”

“I hate you,” you fuss, pointedly ignoring the tiny mole beneath his lip that drove you crazy. “We’ve seen every single thing on the History Channel this week, but we can’t watch one Barbie movie?”

Jungkook sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

“First of all, her name is Annaleise in this movie,” you correct, squirming beneath him to no avail. “Secondly, how do you think I feel when you’re eating me out while some old British dude narrates the creation of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?”

Jungkook scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Jungkook sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Jungkook crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

He doesn’t move, and you’re about to begin another tirade against his snobby movie critiquing habits when he procures a sleek, tiny remote that you would honestly mistake for an iPhone from a distance. It has, no joke, about seven buttons max, four of which are just the up and down, left and right arrows. You let out a low whistle at that. Wow. Technology sure was advancing.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Jungkook’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Jungkook quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Jungkook clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Jungkook will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Jungkook is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Jungkook has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Jungkook scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

He doesn’t let you argue, which is good, because you could make a thirty five slide PowerPoint presentation on the advantages of watching movies like this. One, your boyfriend was warm. Two, your boyfriend smelt good. Three, your boyfriend’s ripped body awoke some ancient being inside of you that would not rest until his cock was halfway down your thro—

He hauls you into his lap. The angle forces you to let him go, instead met with the jarring nothingness of having his hot body ripped away. Meanwhile he gets to wrap you up in his arms, hold you like a teddy bear to his chest. “I hate this,” you huff, but the movie is already starting, the beautiful blonde Anneliese appearing on screen. You lean back against his chest, pout still evident. “This is ridiculous,” you snort, her face blown up on this jumbo screen.

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Jungkook falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

As much as you hate to admit it, the huge screen does incite quite a thrill in you. There’s something so nostalgic about watching one of your favorite childhood movies on a screen this huge. The size showcases the sheer perfection that is every single Barbie movie. You lose yourself in the movie, singing along to the opening song and growing agitated when the antagonist appears.

Jungkook says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He lets out an indignant noise, a puff of air running along the side of your face. You ease his hands back over your stomach, taking extra care to knot your fingers with his. “We’re supposed to be breaking in your new screen,” you remind him, glancing up to catch his unimpressed expression.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Jungkook sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

The back of your mind registers the fact he was apparently trying to get a TV even bigger than this. You tuck it away for later to snitch to his mom. For now, you’d very much appreciate it if he could make you cum before the two girls perform the iconic “I Am a Girl Like You” song.

His hands are so smooth, soft skin tracing over your body like you were nothing but a slab of clay ready to be molded under his touch. He abandons your thighs to creep them under your shirt, where he wastes no time tugging the cups of your bra down to fondle your breasts.

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Jungkook laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away.  His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Jungkook teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Jungkook has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

“Where do you think it should go?” he asks, the low hum of his voice snapping you out or your thoughts. There was no need to daydream about a cock that was right in front of you. His hands slow their gentle caress over you, fingers closing in on your nipples.

A sharp hiss pulls itself from your throat, chest arching as he tugs and toys with your hardened nipples. “Wh-Wherever,” you pant, reaching your own hands down back between your thighs. The phantom of his palms linger, making your hands feel sorely inadequate. “Wherever Daddy wants,” you purr, swallowing harshly when he twists a nipple.

Jungkook groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

He lifts his head to watch you play with yourself. His hands grow tight around your waist, labored breath filling the air to harmonize with your breathy moans. You’re absolutely soaking your panties, sticky arousal making the fabric stick to your folds. “You know I do,” he murmurs, watching the outline of your knuckles through the fabric of your shorts. “Thought you wanted to play nice today.” He takes in a sharp inhale when you ease your finger into yourself, a breathy moan escaping from your lips.

You were already so wet, and you’re really not surprised this is how the two of you would break in his new IMAX, high definition flatscreen. Your pussy tightens around your finger, thigh muscles jumping at the intrusion. Fuck, you needed him so bad.

You smirk, drawing your hands out from their hiding spot. The television is the only thing lighting the room, the two of you shrouded in relative darkness. At first, your hand is shadowed by the glow of the screen, nothing more than an outline. But when you turn it just right, the light catches, highlighting the glistening skin of your fingers. It makes Jungkook shudder.

Ever so slowly, you bring your fingers up to his face. The tip of your middle finger runs teasingly against his plump lower lip, his shaky exhales sending a cool breath over your knuckles. “Open, Daddy,” you encourage, watching with rapt attention as he envelopes your fingers between his lips. He sucks, tongue dancing between each digit to slurp off your juices. “Do I taste good? Do you like it?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Jungkook preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Jungkook, you always came first. Jungkook’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Jungkook was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

It was only a few weeks ago that you discovered your shared daddy kink, him obsessed with the idea of shoving you around, something he would otherwise never do. You, on the other hand, found a pleasant satisfaction from being good for him, a stark contrast from your usual sharp tongue and nonexistent filter.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Jungkook grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Jungkook’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Jungkook kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Jungkook was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Jungkook rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

“Inside please,” you whimper, knees moving back and forth, only stopping when he helps you out of your bottoms. He places his free hand on one of them, stilling your writhing to fully focus on pleasing the burning fire inside of you. “Jungkook—“

A slap against your cunt that makes you squeal. “Ah ah,” he warns, voice a low tenor against your skin. If you focus hard enough, you can feel the faint brush of a smirk against your neck. “We’re playing a different game right now, pretty girl.”

On screen, your favorite childhood movie is bearing witness to the sinful acts at your boyfriend’s hands. It shouldn’t be surprising how easily you fall into his arms, onto his lap, especially with your history of movie watching with Jungkook.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Jungkook’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

These days he was growing out of that mature persona, and you like to think it’s thanks to you. Your wildness rubbed off on him, made him confident enough to geek out in public, or be adventurous in private. It helped nourish his impulsivity, which led to things like the Super Bowl Jumbotron watching you fuck now.

Despite knowing all this, knowing the way he is, the slow grind against your ass sends a thrill of arousal up your limbs, sensations converging just beneath your mound. “Yes, Daddy,” you mewl accordingly.

Pleased with your obedience, he rewards you by circling your throbbing clit with his thumb. It’s a terribly slow motion, pad of his finger easing over your engorged bud every other second. You wanted more, needed more. You squirm beneath him, attempting to push your clit against his palm. Your efforts are in vain when he clamps a hand down on your waist. “Sit still,” he growls.

You whimper. “Need more,” you rasp out. Your whole body is acting out now, shifting and turning as you try to wiggle closer. Your mouth brushes against his jawline. The sharp angle is the first thing your muddled thoughts focus on, lips hungrily latching onto his porcelain skin to suck a purple blossom onto it.

Any other day Jungkook would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

The hand that had been exploring your nether regions suddenly snaps up, catching your chin between his fingers. The wetness that has coated his digits smears messily across your skin, and you whimper when he squishes your cheeks beneath his fingers.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

Dark chocolate eyes you’ve come to associate with love and adoration stare back at you unimpressed. His pronounced brow bone twitches, like he’s holding the true intensity of his glare back for your own sake. He slots his mouth against yours with no warning, tongue pushing its way past your lips. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a lollipop for him to suck on. It pulls a surprised moan from your lips that he swallows quickly enough, biting down on your lower lip harshly. When he pulls away, he’s got that same bored look on his face. You feel small under such a cold look, shoulders scrunching up damn near your ears in a subtle attempt to hide from him.

The action makes Jungkook scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Jungkook, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Your heart falls out of your chest. “Huh?” you whisper hoarsely, wide eyes taking in his unimpressed expression. “Knees? But Daddy,” you whine, lower lip quivering as you glance down at the hardwood floor.

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Jungkook never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Jungkook had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Jungkook gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

You look back again, eye the dark wood planks beneath you, glossed over enough to make them shine even in this weak light. “No,” you belatedly respond, slowly pushing yourself off his lap and onto your feet. Your big shirt falls back down, covers the tops of your thighs as you stand nude from the waist down. You’re tempted to just yank it down even more, hide beneath the cloth so he doesn’t have to see you whine and bitch about your knees aching.

Jungkook was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Jungkook leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Jungkook smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

A hearty sigh escapes his lips as he settles back onto the couch cushions. “Keep me entertained, will you?” You gawk, but you know it’s not a question. He reaches over for the remote to turn the volume up on the Barbie movie.

Your favorite song on the entire soundtrack is playing, almost mocking you as you shuffle closer to him. Two hands tentatively placed on his thighs as the two animated maidens flounce around the screen. He doesn’t bat a single lash your way, eyes focused on the huge screen behind you instead.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Jungkook sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Jungkook hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Jungkook doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Jungkook adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

It’ll haunt you for weeks. The image of such unimpressed eyes leveled your way because you couldn’t handle his dick will stain the insides of your eyelids. Even though he’ll brush it off, kiss you and tell you it’s fine, the inner conceited hoe in you will never let it go, will recall the memory every time your hand is under your panties.

Still, you’re terribly desperate to impress him. He was your other half, your lover, your sweetheart, your goddamn king; he deserved only the best— not some half-assed, scaredy-cat blowjob that would leave him reeling back afterwards.

With that belief and a sticky blob of spit later, you’re pushing him into your throat. It’s the first reaction you get since he’d started feeling you up, a deep, raspy groan straight from the pits of hell, that has you working even harder to swallow his cock down. “That’s it,” he pants, carding his fingers through your hair. “Good girl.”

You positively mewl under the praise, tongue growing heavy in your mouth as you swallow more and more of him down. The hard tip of his cock pulses inside, rubbing against your palate and then your throat. A gag catches in your throat, one you quickly subdue by shifting your hips.

Fuck, he was so big. Just the feeling of his cock brashly rubbing against the corners of your lips has you fantasizing about how he’ll undoubtedly stretch your pussy apart later. You moan, letting your eyes flutter shut as you try to wave those images away.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Jungkook‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Jungkook, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Jungkook finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

“Fuck,” he growls, pushing you away as he sinks back into the cushions. His chest heaves beneath the material of his t-shirt, sweat dripping down from his hairline. Normally, you’d take this opportunity to crawl back onto his lap, lick and kiss away at his body while he recovered. But truthfully, you were both still new to this whole experience so there were still the occasional lulls between actions.

Sensing your uncertainty, Jungkook tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Jungkook kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Jungkook takes your wrists in his hands.

One shapely brow is raised in your direction. “Did I say you could touch?” he murmurs, pinning your hands above your head. A gasp catches in your throat from his close proximity. You subconsciously tilt your head up, try to brush your mouth against his, only to be denied with a subtle turn of his face. “How do you want it, pretty?” he asks, releasing the tight grip around your wrists.

Immediately, you latch around his broad shoulders, fingers tracing over the muscles of his arms until they meet at the base of his neck. “However you want,” you purr, pulling him closer until your bodies are aligned, the warm heat of his frame over yours. You kiss the spot beneath his ear once before he trails his lips down.

Jungkook mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

His proposal is followed by a slow roll of his hips against your throbbing core, the same dick you had just choked on gliding along your folds. You whimper, toes curling as the pleasure washes over you. Every ridge, ever vein of his hardened cock runs along your sensitive folds, reminding you of the aching flame inside of you. “Th-That’s fine,” you pant, leg lazily thrown over his hip. His hands trail over your waist, collecting your t-shirt as they move up your body until it’s pushed over the swell of your breasts.

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Jungkook that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Jungkook smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “Kook!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

Two hands grab onto your biceps, tugging you up forcefully until your back arches, leaving you bent at a ninety degree angle before him. “Look, sweetheart,” he coos against your ear, voice deep enough that it vibrates through every bone in your body. Your breath stutters in your throat, exhilaration blossoming in your chest. “It’s your favorite movie.”

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Jungkook’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Jungkook either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “Jungkook, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Jungkook wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, chest heaving with every slow roll of his hips. Your pussy was sopping, desperate to be filled with something. It was even worse knowing his dick was right there, just inches outside of where you need him most. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you repeat.

Jungkook chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

When he finally pops past that initial tightness, you swear you could transcend into another dimension from the absolute feeling of euphoria that washes over you. “Fuck,” you mewl, fighting against his tight hold. Your efforts are in vain, ultimately choosing to drop your head down as the ecstasy continues to wash over you with each inch he offers you.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Jungkook reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

He gives until there’s nothing left, the soft hairs around his dick tickling your lips as he reaches the hilt. “There we go,” he grunts, giving you one final tug to make sure this is as far as he can go. You squeal, the brush against your walls making you ridiculously high. “That’s my girl.”

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Jungkook’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, muscles going slack for the briefest moment. The only thing that saves you from falling over is the killer grip on your forearms; when he tugs you up his cock runs along your pulsing walls. “Please, Daddy,” you beg, mouth feeling a thousand times heavier.

“The movie,” he repeats, slowly beginning to pull away from your clenching heat. You moan. “Tell me what it’s about,” he husks, punctuating his seemingly innocent statement with a harsh snap of his hips.

You wail, stumbling forward at the intensity. Still, it’s just a taste of what he has in store for you. He soon picks a pace, not too rushed or slow, as you struggle to keep your eyes open. “I-I don’t know,” you choke out, the images flashing across the gigantic screen practically unrecognizable to your muddled thoughts.

Behind you Jungkook tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

His hips are moving fast now, every piston into your warm heat making you tremble. “Fffuck,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues ramming his cock into your pulsing hole. You’re met with a harsh yank that pulls you snugly onto his cock, your entire body screaming at the way he nudges against your cervix. Despite the pleasure it gives you, Jungkook seems anything but pleased.

“C’mon,” he huffs, twisting your arms painfully behind your back. “What did we say about that dirty mouth?” His question is followed with a snap of his hips that makes you choke on your spit. “Need you to be good for me, baby,” he groans.

“I-I am good,” you weakly defend, head hanging down limply as you fight to regain some semblance of your senses. But everything feels too much, from the rough push of his hips to the tight grip on your arms. His cock pulls out nearly all the way each time, swollen tip the only thing stopping him. Every thrust makes you quiver, every touch makes you melt.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Jungkook scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

A hand clamps around your throat suddenly, yanking you up right until his breath fans across your ear. You’re not sure when your eyes had become so teary, but the images flickering across the screen are a foggy mess you couldn’t decipher even if you tried. “__,” he rasps against your ear, his voice scratchy. “Tell me. Now.”

You whimper as he shoves his way back inside, the angry head of his cock testing you. “T-Two girls, one’s a princess,” you cry, knees wobbling as the feeling in your core grows. “They look alike, and-and…”

“And?” Jungkook asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Jungkook snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Jungkook barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “Kook— Jungkook!”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, fingers holding you tight around the waist. The coffee table you had feared cracking your skull on finally comes to use as you press your hands onto the surface in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Jungkook nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Jeon Jungkook, maybe Doyeon was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Jungkook is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Jungkook responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your Kook now.”

“My… Kook,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Jungkook chases both your second orgasms.

“Mhmm,” he groans, jostling you over his lap with no rhythm whatsoever. “Yours, baby.” You stretch your hands back, carding one set of fingers through the hair above his ear, pushing the strands away from his face. “Just like you’re mine.”

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Jungkook hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Jungkook catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

When all is said and done and you’re both basking in a post-orgasmic make-out, you realize how sweaty and icky you are. “Ugh, this is gross,” you pout as he wiggles you off his lap. He pushes you beside him, letting you flop over the length of the couch as he reaches for something to clean you up with.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

You nudge him with your foot. “I’m not the one who wanted to fuck during a Barbie movie,” you scoff, pinching the skin on his forearm when his gaze lingers a second too long on your creamy pussy. “Look somewhere else, weirdo.”

Jungkook laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don't wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

He cackles loudly now, in that evil witch way it took him a while to show you, and you know he’s got that big silly grin on his face now. . “The IMAX screen? The same one that made you,” a pause, “climax?”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Jungkook’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

What you’re not expecting is for her anger to shift to you as she scolds you for letting her idiotic son make such purchases. She gets one playful thwack against your side with the leek before your charming idiotic boyfriend swoops in to save you.

——

Copyright © August 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[natsukitakama]

Fluffy alphabet (A, B, C, E, I, J, K, L, N, R, U, and W) Floch edition

Request : Could I please get fluff alphabet (season 4) Floch Forster A, B, C, E, I, J, K, L, N, R, U, and W with fem s/o please?

Author note : I’m sorry for taking so long hope you’ll enjoy this ♡

Warning : Fluffy / Spoiler from season 3 and 4 of Snk

Masterlist

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Before the Shinganshima’s event, he used to take you on a date around the city. He took advantage of his situation in the army and the fact that the survey corps were popular to go to the city. Not only he could show you off but can also act all cocky telling you story about his adventure outside the wall. He talked a lot about himself but most of the time you didn’t mind cause you were quite curious about his life as a soldier and what he saw outside the wall since you never left your « comfort » if we can say that. Now, after the Shinganshima he decided to become a Yeagarist and let’s be honest after that, much to his dismay, he doesn’t have much free time. Which mean that everytime you two could have some quality times, he spends it with you in the comfort of your house, letting you pamper him because he craves your affection. So yeah you have spent a lot of time on your house chilling around. He is very ashamed of that because he wants the best for you. He kept whispering to himself that everything is for your safety and that after reaching his goal he’ll make it up for you.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Honestly ? The way you can keep up with his shit. Floch isn’t an idiot and he knows that he can be a bother, a real dick sometimes, and the way you never were angry at him each time he was being en ass never felt to amaze him. Your calm and kind nature was something he really loves about you, the fact that he doesn’t have to be ashamed for who he is and that he can be natural around because you’ll find a way to make things right so Floch doesn’t end up having troubles. You’re his light, his arch. Now if we’re talking about physical aspect he is into your legs, there is something sexy and cute about it. The flesh, how soft it is, how they feel around his hand or against his cheeks. He is one of those leg’s simp you know ? Every aspect of your legs is attractive to him no matters if you are self-conscious about something, he loves them, deeply and won’t be afraid to put some sense into you each time you’ll say something bad about them. I’m not kidding you’ll be scolded because « your legs can hear you and they’ll feel sad » then proceeds to kiss them to reassure it that they are beautiful.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

I won’t lie he’s not in the top 3 of the best to deal with a panic attack or anything that involve him taking care of you. People might think it’s because he is being selfish as usual and wants all the attention to himself (well he kinda wants it but that’s not the real reason). To be honest he isn’t good in dealing is own insecurity, which could be seen with the way he is acting like a dick. He is not a natural dick, he is always doing it to reassure himself you know ? Like you can’t hurt me if I hurt you first. So yeah since he isn’t capable of controlling his own feelings, he is going to have a hard time dealing with your negative thought. He might even start panicking if he saw to get a huge crisis. After talking with some of his superior and his comrades from the survey corps he’ll learn one or two tricks to help you getting good and finding your breath. After some times, Floch will learn how to calm you whenever you’ll feel the need, he will also become a good reader meaning he’ll know each time you’re not feeling good. Depend on what you need to feel happy, he won’t hesitate to talk shit about his companion if it makes you laugh. It’ll take a long time but Floch would work harder to help you because he cares about you.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Mostly dominant, Floch isn’t the one to talk about his feelings or the one to follow something. I’m not saying that he got trust issues but he went through a lot and his way to cope with everything : his trauma, his fear, his nightmares, his dark thought are to be in control. He needs to be one in charge all the time. It gave him the (fake) sensation of being strong. Now he is not a dictator, if something is bothering you just tell him, I might add that he expects you to say whenever something is bothering you because he can be oblivious. In bed he might be inclined to be a switch and let you have your way with him, when it came to a relationship he kinda needs to feel like he leads, again you don’t really feel like you’re being leaded by someone it’s just the way he talks or his posture that might betray the fact that he is the dominant one. These feelings got stronger after he joined the yeagarist, since he was « close » to Eren most of them believe that he was in charge of everything with Eren so it didn’t help his need of being the leader.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

After a couple of weeks of a relationship, most of people noticed that Floch was more inclined to talk « gently » with them or at least act like he cares about their opinion. People who were close to him also underline that he tends to not be all cocky and instead was getting more and more serious. As if your relationship helped him to grow up as a man you know ? He was more aware of his environment, of his companion, his surrounding. If Erwin gives him the goal of being a good leader, you on the other around help him to be a better human in the sense that he’ll stop being mean. Well let’s be honest. It would be a hard work cause it became a part of his personality but you’re here now. As mentioned earlier, you’re kinda a light for him even more you’re like his arch, his moral guide, your job as his significant other is to tell him when he went beyond the boundaries of someone nonetheless since his attitude is something deeply written in his personality it’s a work for life.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

I’d like to say that he is not jealous at all but let’s be honest he is. Now it’s not something bad where he’ll send someone to follow you and beat up each people that share the same breath as you. But, he is kinda possessive around you and even thought he is trusting you. He can’t help but feels some dark instinct each time someone is trying to get your attention. You were supposed to be attentive to him and only him, why would you give your attention to some deep shit ? He just loves you so much you know ? Also, he is kinda aware that people talked about his back like they’re underlined the fact that you are so nice, so beautiful like you’re way out of his league. They didn’t understand what got you around Floch, to them he wasn’t that interesting and was a huge dick they pity you which bothered him. As I said before, Floch knows that he is being a dick a lot of times and well he became a little bit (a lot) insecure about your relationship and can’t help but be afraid that one day you’ll wake up and leave him for someone better than him. Someone that would provide you the love you deserve because yeah he strongly believed that he is the selfish one in the relationship which is pretty true but he is not bad for you, and has his way to show you that he loves you. You know him, and were aware that if you’re feeling like he is being an ass to you, you can tell him. So yeah maybe he’ll be clingier when you’ll face someone that Floch believe is better than him, maybe he’ll kiss you in front of them to remind them that you belong to him, maybe he’ll be mean to them but he does that because he loves you.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

He is the part of those one who kiss you like it would be their last time. Maybe it’s because he is a part of the survey corps, maybe it’s because of his nightmares or his trauma but each time Floch kiss you it’s passionate, he kisses you deeply holds both of your cheeks or put a hand on your hair the other on your waist to keep you firmly against you. He might even push you against a wall so his body could be full against you, yeah he does it everytime and each time it felt like it would be your last kiss that you’ll share together. Even though he always came back to you, he can’t help but always hold you close as if you might disappear if he doesn’t do it. He is into French kiss even during your first kiss exchange he hasn’t hesitated and put his tongue against yours to taste you because he craves for it, he craves for you. You’re like a drug to him he is addicted to you.

Your first kiss didn’t feel like one, let me explain. You were dating for two weeks and much to your surprise each time you two went on a date he never tried to kiss you even thought it was written on his face that he wanted to do it. But he didn’t because he felt like you should give him the go-ahead, so he waited again and again before you finally gave him the sign he was waiting for. As he was walking you home feeling that today again you wouldn’t exchange a kiss with him except the sweet peck on his cheeks, he was about to leave you when he felt your hand around his wrist holding it. Floch didn’t much, he turned back and without a blink of an eye his lips crashed on yours. His hands naturally found their place on your neck and waist as he was deepened the kiss. It felt as if you two used to be lover because it felt natural and so good to you.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

I wish that he was a little bit more romantic but he doesn’t so as everything he does, it’s a bit blunt. Like when he met you, instantaneous he felt like attracted to you. So when he felt like everything went smoothly between you two (you’re not trying to yell at him punch his face for being mean for no reason), he asked you to go out with him. It was a date but he didn’t present it like this just in case you saw him as a friend and not a potential lover. Those dates who weren’t a date last a couple of weeks actually, each time Floch was trying something. First he brushes his hands against yours to see if you wouldn’t flinch but seeing that you moved your hands against his give him the ego boost he needed. Then, he started to put a hand on your lower back each time you would enter a shop or anything, next Floch will wrap his arm around your waist. Basically two months later you were acting like a couple without actually saying anything, whenever you got the occasion you brought him foods for his job, you would lean against him as he was putting his arm around you. Everyone was now teasing him because he didn’t have the gut to actually confess to you even though you were acting like his damn significant other.

So one night when you two were watching the stars sharing foods you brought earlier, he just holds your hands like he used to but this time, he also put his hand on your chin to move your face so you would face him. And he will just say it looking at you straight in these eyes while you were still eating your cake. You shouldn’t chuckle but you did because obviously he couldn’t wait for you to actually swallow your cake. He thought that everything was over because you were taking time but then you give him a kiss whispering to him that you felt the same so everything went fine.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Most of the time he called you heaven because you’re like heaven for him, he doesn’t call you like that just to tease you it’s also a way of reminding you that you’re helping him so much growing as a man, you’re like his shelter now that he got you by his side he can’t picture a life without you. He tends to call you sweetie or cutie just because your cheeks got warmer and you became flustered.

There’s a particular nickname that he used only when he had to leave for a long mission, those one were he wasn’t sure to be back. During times like those, he called my love he sounds cliché I know but he called you like this each time he got the kiss of your life, both of his would hold your face as he looked at you tenderly. He will remind you that he loves you and will do everything to be back to you because he can’t live without you.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He isn’t the romantic one but he isn’t the worst you know ? He is trying okay. It’s just each time he tries something to act romanticly he had to spoil it by being cocky, teasing you until you’re a mess. And when he is trying his best to bring you something, most of the time he forgot it. I can’t even count how many flowers he got spoiled because he forgot to bring it to you. But when it’s really important like your birthday, Floch will work hard to not only bring you as much as gifts as his wallet can but also to provide you the loveliest party as possible (or date if you want it to be more private). I’ll give him 6/10 like he is not the worst but he needs to work a lot on his romantic gesture.

That’s why when he wants something to be smooth, he asked everyone to give him ideas anything that might help him to please you. He mostly asks Armin because he is a genius and always seemed to think about great idea for a date, he kinda became his ally even though he’s still bitter against him ( you know about Erwin’s case).

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

As mentioned earlier, it’ll take him time to understand you, for being able to read your properly. It’s not like he isn’t empathetic but he already struggled with his own insecurity, fear and trauma so obviously he is not the best to deal with emotion, feelings being down and everything. But if Floch feels like it’s burdening you in any way, he’ll work with you cause he can’t do it on his own. He’ll always ask you to tell him when something is wrong, to at least give him a sign when you feel like something isn’t good when you feel sad, when you are depressed. He got a list of each sign you decided to use to help him getting the signal that he has to be on your side.

After a couple of panic attack/emotional crisis, Floch would become one of the best to read you and prevent any form of bad thought. Insecurity ? Gone even though he is calling you a dumbs for thinking that you are not enough you have to admit that it’s working. Fear ? He’ll kill anyone that might put a finger on you. So I’m going to give him a 7/10 he is a good but he needs help coming from you to help you properly.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

I shouldn’t say it because it was supposed to be a secret, but he stole you cloth. Not to wear it but he is stealing everything that got your scent each time he left for a mission, because he wants to have your smell/warmth with him whenever he is far away from you. It’s silly, it’s cliché and people would make fun of him if they’ll learn about it, but he can’t sleep properly for example if doesn’t have your shirt around him. He might use your t-shirt as a teddy to hold it close to him you know ? He is pretending that you are here with him and that everything is fine. He’ll mostly take your shirt/t-shirt because it’s small and convenient for him to put on his bag. He also got on his wallet a bunch of things that is supposed to remind him of you, like your favorite flower etc. What can I say ? He is a simp.

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Hi hi! I was wondering if you could do a dick Grayson x Avatar like fem reader with either a jealous Babs or Zatanna I hope that made sense🥲

True Love’s Kiss

Pairing: Dick Grayson as Nightwing x Reader

Warnings: I don’t think so

Word Count: 4.1K

@writing2sirvive : Hi love, me again but with a request this time. If you have time of course. I was thinking true love’s kiss with Dick Grayson. You can go crazy with it because I know you love Dick Grayson as much as I do. Btw I love your writing so much.

A/N: I think I did it wrong...cuz even though this is a Dick Grayson x reader fic, it’s mostly centred around reader and Zatanna???? Sorry about that???

You were fine with knowing that Dick was still friends with most of his exes. You completely accepted that he was able to keep functional relationships with most of them. In fact, it showed you how amicable and neutral Dick was and how he never held any grudges against people.

Of course, you were surprised by the sheer number. And the fact that he seems to interact with them practically every day. But eventually you managed not to let yourself get too bothered by it.

I mean, how could you? Barbara was the smartest, funniest, most approachable person you had ever met. She always made sure not to overstep her boundaries and was unusually open with you, given that Dick was her ex-boyfriend.

Raquel was adventurous and fun and you always had a good time when you were around her. She was another one who was respectful of your relationship. She never brought up her past flings with Dick, nor did she ever try and put you down. In fact, she was one of the people who really shipped the two of you.

You liked most of his exes. To the point where it made Dick kind of uncomfortable.

You liked most of his exes.

Ever since you had joined the team, being introduced as Nightwing’s significant other, Zatanna had been a constant thorn in your side. She was nice and sweet but there was something about her that rubbed you the wrong way. You could tell almost immediately that she wasn’t quite over her relationship with Dick. Short as it was.

Or maybe she was just the type of person who didn’t want someone, but didn’t want others to have the same person either.

Nonetheless, being around her put you constantly on edge. You lost count of how many times she redirected a conversation to be about her previous relationship with your boyfriend. ‘Oh, Dick took you to a fancy restaurant for your birthday? Well, I remember back when we were dating, he threw a huge party for me on mine.’

‘Oh, you celebrated your one-year anniversary with Dick in Paris? Well during our 3-month-aversary he bought me an expensive necklace.’

It didn’t bother you in the slightest. At least, not in the way that she hoped. It didn’t make you insecure or doubt or feel intimidated by her. It was just an annoyance that you couldn’t shake off, like the teacher you didn’t like or your annoying neighbour.

Unfortunately, Zatanna couldn’t take a hint that it made you and your friends (Barbara and Raquel included) uncomfortable and slightly irritated. Yet, everyone was just waiting for you to express the slightest distaste, not wanting to step on your toes. However, they were quick to change the topic in case they thought she was going too far.

Dick had been blissfully unaware of everything and you wanted to keep it that way. The last thing you needed was this turning into some sort of issue, especially since Zatanna was still his teammate.

However today you had enough.

You could look past Zatanna’s petty jealousy but allowing the jealousy to come to the forefront during a mission was where you drew the line.

Dick, M’Gann and Conner had been on a covert mission for Batman and out of the country and under team vote decided that you should be made in charge until he returned, since you were the only other older member (other than Zatanna but you were voted leader unanimously. Something you were extremely proud about). That was well and good, until you had been given a mission.

Regardless of how much you did not want to work with Zatanna without the others there to wrangle her, you had to put your personal feelings aside when you had a mission to complete.

You thought you could both be professionals about it and act like mature adults.

You were dead wrong.

If it wasn’t disagreements, it was insubordination. If it wasn’t insubordination, it was blatant arrogance. She questioned your judgment in front of the other members and even had the nerve to argue with you about mission strategies. You were trying to look out for everyone and put yourself in the line of fire since the squad members were better at stealth.

Zatanna seemed to think you were trying to steal the show and insisted that she be partnered with you even though you wanted someone with the younger members to keep them safe.

When you relented and agreed to go stealth, she accused you of ducking out and intentionally trying to put her in danger. The others had to watch as steam practically came out of your ears when you relented once again and decided you’d be with her because you honestly couldn’t argue with her much longer.

As if that wasn’t infuriating enough.

The straw that broke the camel’s back was when she refused to work as a team, putting the mission at risk and nearly getting the both of you hurt. She was fighting on her own, not bothering to have your back and going into it alone. Obviously, the two of you were overpowered quickly once they realized that you were pretty much behaving solo.

Luckily, the others pulled through and got you both out of there before anything horrible happened.

You sat in the ship, jaw clenched so tightly that they swore they could hear your teeth cracking, fists nearly white as you tried to control your anger and keep yourself from screaming at her while you were still in the air.

Once the ship landed in the docking bay and Zatanna was the first one to leave without saying another word, you snapped.

“What the hell did you think you were doing today!” You growled out, fisting her collar and stopping her in her tracks.

“What are you talking about?” She feigned innocence and you felt your skin burning. Everything around you faded out and all you could feel was fury. In hindsight, you would have liked to handle this issue in a more refined manner, but you honestly couldn’t care.

So, you didn’t notice the rest of the team, along with the a few members of the Justice League watching you chew Zatanna out.

Whatever would keep you from lighting her on fire was enough.

“I’m talking about putting the mission, not to mention ourselves in jeopardy, all because you can’t stop acting like a spoilt brat!” You hissed.

She rolled her eyes and you and the thought of strangling her briefly crossed your mind before she shoved your hands off her, dusting herself off like your fingerprints were dirt, “You need to stop blaming others for your inadequacy.”

She turned on her heel sharply and walked away. Blood pounded through your ears and your fingers twitched by their sides before you formed a whip of water from the bay and lashed it against her feet.

Zatanna, caught off guard, was thrown across the room before she caught herself with a muttered spell and turned around, glaring at you furiously.

“We’re going to settle things, right here, right now!”

“If you would stop being so insecure, then we could sort out our differences like mature adults!” She screamed back at you and before you could control it, flames erupted from beneath your feet and raced towards her, scorching the ground beneath it.

Each puff of breath you took released sparks. Zatanna immediately got into an offensive stance, levitating one of the weapons crates and chucking at you. You blocked it effortlessly using a wall of earth before throwing an inferno at her.

You kept fighting, flames and splashes of water going into the air every time you collided. The others watched in fear as you both raced towards each other, it looked like neither of you were holding back.

Before you could strike her again, you were being pulled away by Superman and as Zatanna was by Batman, they both pulled you yards apart. Even with his strong, authoritative grip on you, you couldn’t stop thrashing in his arms, throwing gusts of air at her.

“(Y/N). Enough.” Superman spoke in your ear and you calmed down, relaxing in his grip. He let you go after and you winced, feeling your skin bruise where he grabbed you. He gave you an apologetic glance at that.

“You both have to put your differences aside and work as a team or you won’t be allowed to go on any more missions.” Batman told you, voice firm but it didn’t shake you.

“No, Zatanna is going to have to put her issues with me aside and learn that when I have been elected as leader of the squad then you are supposed to put your petty jealousy aside and know your place.” You spat.

“You weren’t right for the position!”

“I did everything right! And if it hadn’t been for you, we wouldn’t have been under open fire tonight!”

“You’re not the boss of me!”

“When I am the leader of the squadron then I am! And you’re meant to listen and not question my judgement because you’re being blinded by your pathetic jealously!”

“I’m not jealous of you!”

“Oh, please! That’s the biggest load of crap I’ve heard from you and it was all proved today! Admit it! You were immature and fucking stupid because you can’t get over that fact that you dated Dick for what? 3 months?”

“That’s because he’s supposed to be with me!” 

“LIKE HELL HE IS!” You roared.

Batman felt a little helpless watching the two of you scream at each other. All this fighting? Over a boy? His son, no less? He had other sons and you were free to have your pick. But at this point, he wasn’t even sure what to say.

“You just can’t seem to accept the fact that he doesn’t love you anymore! Get over it! Because he certainly has!” You shouted, spinning on your heel and stomping away from her, determined to have the last word. Superman sighed in relief. He thought another fight would break out.

“You’re just insecure because you know that if he had the chance, he would come crawling back to me!”

A chill went done your spine and you felt cold fury run through your veins, turning around to glare at her murderously and clenching your hands tightly. You were so angry your feet were rooted to the floor, body seizing up slightly.

The others looked anxiously between the two of you as you glared at each other for a minute before you spoke with the calmest, yet most terrifying voice they’ve ever heard from you.

“Zatanna, you can try your damn hardest to win him back. But I promise you, you’re never going to get what you want.” You told her darkly, before walking away.

As Zatanna glared at your receding figure she decided she was going to prove you wrong.

***

To keep you from fighting with Zatanna again, when Batman came to you with a solo mission you couldn’t agree fast enough. Even though you knew you’d miss Dick’s homecoming, you still wanted to get the hell away from here. Not like you’d be missing anything important, other than Zatanna fawning over him.

You’d get to tell him how much you missed him in private anyway.

As soon as you were out of the cave, you couldn’t help the relief that filled your bones. You had been so on edge the past few days, still furious with her so the distance between the two of you was appreciated.

When Dick got home, he was ecstatic to see you again. It had been nearly 3 weeks since he had last held you and his skin was practically buzzing with excitement when he reached a cave, desperate to hug you, kiss you, touch you.

He got to the mess hall quickly, running all the way there and when he opened the door, he was instantly disappointed. You weren’t there.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” He asked Beast Boy, hoping he would tell him that you were just back at your apartment or that you had gone out for a while and would be back soon but he felt his heart sink when Gar gave him a sympathetic smile.

“She’s on a mission for a week.”

“A mission? Who’s with her?”

“No one. It’s a solo mission.”

Now he was worried. You usually didn’t take solo missions, liking to work in a team, knowing that there would be people who would be watching your back was reassuring. He knew you were more than skilled to handle a solo mission but not being by your side made him nervous and slightly antsy.

He was also upset that you weren’t here. So, he decided to do the most adult thing. Go home and sulk in bed while holding your sweatshirt that smelt like you.

But apparently the world had something against him because when he was about to go through the Zeta tube he was intercepted. By non other than Zatanna.

Now, poor clueless Dick had no idea that you had thrown hands with Zatanna just a day ago and was the reason why you weren’t there to welcome him when he got back. If he had he would’ve sulked at her and whined loudly for her to hear while he dragged his feet.

But, poor clueless Dick had absolutely no idea Zatanna was the reason he was being deprived of your kisses. So, he just smiled brightly at her and asked her if she needed anything.

“As a matter of fact, I found an old spell and I need someone to test it out on!”

“I don’t know how I feel about being your non-scientific experiment, Z.”

“Come on, it’s totally harmless, I promise.”

“I don’t know...”

“Don’t you trust me?”

He did. But there was just something about this situation that made him uncomfortable. Maybe it was because he missed you like crazy and just wanted to go home and sulk until you came back. Maybe it was because he felt uncomfortable to go somewhere private with his ex-girlfriend without telling you first. Or maybe it was because of the way Zatanna felt the need to guilt him into it.

Nevertheless, he agreed, albeit reluctantly and went to her room. Inside Zatanna had a bunch of ruins written on a paper and some weird poultices beside it.

“Now this isn’t going to work unless you give me your consent.” She informed, bustling about the room and Dick suddenly felt the air was a little stuffy.

“What do you mean by consent? Consent for what?”

“It’s a love spell.” She told him, smiling slyly but he couldn’t quite understand why. His hands got a little clammy at the announcement. What did she mean by love spell? Was she trying to get him to fall in love with her? Why would she be so open about it then? Especially when she knew he was in love with someone else?

“What do you mean?”

“Oh relax, stop being so tense. It’s just a love spell that proves who you truly love.” She said, immediately noticing how stiff his body was. Though she chalked it up to confusion. Dick was simply confused about who he loved, he was clouded by his attraction to you and he felt guilty about being unfaithful. But deep down, he really loved her. And this spell would prove it.

“In the olden ages, people would use it on their wedding to prove that their significant other truly loved them.”

He nodded, mouth falling open with realization. He already knew what the answer would be so why even bother? He assumed it was because Zatanna was curious to whether it actually worked.

“Too bad (Y/N) isn’t here, I mean I know who I love but I’d like to try it out on her. I mean, who takes a mission the day before their boyfriend comes back to town.” He complained, more to himself but Zatanna still heard it.

“Anyway, can I cast it on you?”

“Sure, couldn’t hurt.”

Oh, how he’d come to know just how wrong he was.

***

You raced through the halls, panicked, hearing your heart beat out of your chest as you sprinted to the Med Bay. Even though you were running as quick as possible you still pumped your legs to run faster, needing to get there quickly.

As soon as you saw Zatanna outside the Med Bay, you skidded to a stop in front of her and grabbing her collar, pinning her against the wall. She hit it with a thud and she saw white for a second when her head collided with the hard surface.

It was then you got a good look at her face. Her eyes were red and face wet. Her lips were bitten until they bled. You gritted your teeth, grip tightening around the collar as tears pricked your eyes.

“What the hell did you do!”

She whimpered, eyes getting glossy again before she started crying, incomprehensible words leaving her lips and you snarled before shaking her again, “You don’t get to cry! What the hell did you do to him!”

“It was a love spell!” She cried out, “It was supposed to reveal who he truly loves.”

“AND?!”

“It’s activated by a kiss.” She sniffled, “And I did.”

“Is it done?” Dick asked just as she finished casting the spell. His body was enveloped by a slight glow that was only visible to her and Zatanna’s lips curled when she realized it had worked. Now there was only one thing left to do.

“Yep.” She said, slinking over to his side and he pouted curiously.

“Are you sure? I don’t feel any different. You said it was supposed to reveal who I love. What happened?”

“We’re gonna find that out. Hold still.” She said, smiling and wrapping her arms around his neck to press a kiss to his lips. Dick froze, feeling her lips move against his and his mind went blank for a second before his chest contracted painfully.

He gasped against her mouth, before his legs buckled and he tumbled to the ground. Zatanna’s eyes widened when she saw the way his body twitched, pained gasps leaving his mouth and tears began falling from his eyes.

“Are you okay?!” She panicked, wrapping her arms around his thrashing figure but he couldn’t choke out an answer.

“Someone help! Anyone! Please!”

“A kiss doesn’t put people through cardiac arrest!” You screamed, feeling your chest tighten as you heard it out loud for the first time. Your eyes began burning and your throat contracted, feeling tears build. It was the first time you had admitted it to yourself.

You were scared. Emotions that you could barely process or understand swirled around you in a dark cloud and you were scared that Dick wouldn’t make it out of his critical state. If he was taken away from you because you hadn’t been there to stop it, you would never forgive yourself.

“I’m sorry.” She whimpered, sobbing and her body went limp in your fists. The urge to rip her head off her shoulders resurfaced. She didn’t get to be upset, not when this was all her fault.

“I don’t give a shit.” You hissed, “How do we save him?”

“A true love’s kiss should stop all the side effects.” She whispered, looking up at you with wide eyes, “If Dick truly loves you, then when you kiss him, it’ll reverse the spell.”

You needed to get in there.

You released your hold and Zatanna and she slid to the floor pathetically, holding her body as she cried. But even with her heartbroken sobs, you couldn’t feel any sort of remorse to her, glaring at her instead, “You better hope this works. Or I’ll kill you myself.”

And then you rushed in.

When you got to Dick’s side your breath stuttered when you noticed just how many things he was connected to and you felt your body shake. Batman was carefully watching him from his bedside.

You carefully walked to his side, gently brushing your fingers against his cheekbone. He looked like he was in so much pain. He looked so weak. You wanted to help him but a part of you was scared. For the first time in your life, you doubted Dick’s feelings for you.

The time you needed his love and devotion to be true the most, you were doubtful. A million thoughts rushed through your head and for a second you were tempted to just avoid doing this at all. But you knew that you had to at least try.

So, with trembling hands, you held the ventilator fastened to his mouth, taking a deep breath before tugging it off. Batman, already knowing what you were about to do, let you pull it off him before pressing a fluttering kiss to his lips. Tears gathered underneath your lashes when you didn’t feel anything happen.

Just when you were about to pull away, Dick took a deep breath through his nose and panted against your mouth, kissing you more firmly. You couldn’t help the sob that bubbled out of your throat and he swallowed it without any qualms.

Even through bleary vision, you were able to make out his blue eyes and the small smile on his face. 

His hands came up to weakly cup for cheeks, gently wiping away the tears with his thumbs, “I missed you.”

You sniffled, letting more tears fall because you knew he’d be here to wipe them away, “I missed you too.”

***

Bonus:

You walked into the mess hall quietly. Dick had just fallen asleep in the Med Bay where he would be kept for a couple days under observation. It was past 1 in the night and you wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed but you had some unfinished business left to handle.

It was dark and it was hard to make out your surroundings until your eyes adjusted to the darkness. As you walked to the kitchen island, your eyes landed on the sorceress that had her head in her arms and wondered if she was asleep. Batman had said you were free to deal with her anyway you liked and that had been exactly your plan.

“He’s okay now, if you’re curious.” You told her. Her head shot up and she looked at you out of the corner of her eye before bowing it away shamefully. But you caught a glance at her face. She looked like she had been crying for hours, eyes bloodshot and face red and blotchy.

“Thank god.” She croaked out.

There was a beat of silence.

“I’m so so sorry, (Y/N).” Zatanna whimpered out before crying again, “You were right. I was jealous. And I did a crazy, wrong thing. And I’m so sorry.”

You sighed, nodding at her apology even though you knew she couldn’t see you. You weren’t sure if you accepted it, and you didn’t have to. For now, it could remain in the air.

“He really doesn’t love me....” She whispered out and you sighed once again, stepping up beside her and setting something on the table.

Zatanna glanced at the bottle of tequila and the two shot glasses you left. You didn’t look at her, instead choosing to stare straight ahead. You opened the bottle, pouring yourself a shot before tilting your head back and downing it, hissing at the burn.

“Obligatory break-up drink.” You mumbled, pouring her a shot and passing the glass to her.

She sniffled, looking at the glass in her hands before gulping it down. You took a deep breath, refilling the glasses. You still didn’t look at her, didn’t speak to her, just poured a refill when either of you finished and downed it in one gulp. The excitement from today and the tense feeling from sitting beside Zatanna kept you from getting drunk too early.

You two ended up finishing half the bottle, drinking in the dark until she passed out first and you followed soon after.

The others found you the next morning, passed out at the kitchen island, clutching empty shot glasses.

***

Bonus bonus:

Batman sighed, smelling the overwhelming scent of tequila as he came closer. None of them were able to wake either of you up. You were out cold, face scrunched up and head against the table in a position that would no doubt have your neck in a crick.

Zatanna was no better. Her hair was a mess, tequila spilt on her clothes and she was drooling all over the table, snoring unattractively.

“All this over a boy?”

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

[genshin-obsessed]

My (f/n) | Zhongli x Reader

Hello! This was originally a collab idea from a friend between like 5 people. The friend who suggested the collab pulled out and idk about others lmao so it might just be me. BUT I COMMITED AND DELIVERED SO! Cuz I’m responsible and amazing💖 anyway. It’s a reincarnation AU! Banner made by 🎭 anon! Thanks to @squeaky-ducky and @solies-scripts for helping me edit this💖

Extra sidenotes: Your previous self’s vision is pyro but you can choose whatever for the reincarnated version even tho it’s not mentioned. Also, Yehara and Lilith are my OCs (yes... more)

Length: 2.1k Summary: Zhongli loves and cherishes you above all else. One day, you’re snatched away from him and the world turns black for him. Yet somehow, a thousand years later, he sees you again.

The bright sun beamed down at the land below, illuminating everything in a golden glow. Zhongli stepped out into the light and closed his eyes, inhaling the fresh air.

Days like these were beautiful but they became a blessing all thanks to one person. A smile graced Zhongli’s beautiful features at the thought of them. His hand found its way onto his chest and he felt it steadily beat. He felt an overwhelming sense of serenity and it was all thanks to this person. You.

You, yourself, were a blessing in this archon’s life. He never thought he would ever feel like this. That he would ever feel love. What was love to archons? They usually loved the lands they resided over. The original archons held love for humanity and guided them.

For Zhongli, love was something of a general term. He loved the sun, the lands… today. But his love for you was something he couldn’t describe. Something the man of wondrous knowledge couldn’t understand.

Zhongli came to realize that love wasn’t something that could be easily explained nor did it need to be. Love gave him overwhelming happiness, so why bother trying to understand every aspect of such a beautiful idea.

The Geo archon walked through the city of Liyue and although he felt great joy, there was also a certain uneasiness. He paused and touched his chest once more as the anxiety grew.

Ultimately, the man ignored it, unable to find the root cause of such dread. He instead opted to find you, so you could settle his nerves a little.

***

“Zhongli!” You beamed once you saw him. He chuckled as you ran to him and wrapped your arms around his slim figure.

“You’re rather excited today,” he commented as he hugged back, “what brought on such elation?”

“Hmm, a very pretty man.” You said, cheekily. There it was, that smile of yours washed away any and all discomfort he felt.

“Oh, is that so? I’m quite jealous.”

“I wouldn’t be.” Zhongli chuckled once more as you leaned in and gave him a kiss. The sensation of your soft lips remained on his even after you’d pulled away. “What brings you here today?”

“I was thinking we could spend some time together. We could go for a walk, maybe set up a picnic since that’s what you wanted to do last time.”

“Really!? You’ll go on a picnic with me?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” Your radiant smile was contagious as he found himself smiling in return.

“I’ll set it up!! It can be a late night picnic or- oh! Oh! Let’s watch the sunset! Then we can have our picnic. I’ll set up candles!” Your enthusiasm was always something Zhongli loved. It benefited him more than he could admit.

“Alright then. Where?”

“Our spot!” Zhongli teasingly tilted his head making you pout.

“What spot? I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Yes you do! Come on, Zhongli!” Zhongli leaned in and pecked your pouty lips before nodding.

“I do. Then I’ll meet you there?” You nodded with a bright smile.

“Yes! Exactly! I’ll have everything set up and I want it to be a surprise.”

Zhongli spent a little more time with you before he left, since you needed to prepare for the date. Only a few minutes after he’d left you, the anxiety returned. He touched his chest once more with furrowed brows. What was this?

***

You smiled as you started to place the items down onto the blanket. You’d been planning this picnic for weeks now and you finally had the chance to do it.

You set the cushions and small table you had brought, placing the candles and wine bottle. The food would remain in the basket to keep it safe from bugs since you had to wait quite a while. Hopefully your pyro vision was enough to keep it warm.

“Hello, are you (y/f/n)?” A soft voice called from behind. You turned around and saw a shy, but beautiful woman with long pink hair. The clothes she wore indicated she clearly wasn’t from here. She fidgeted with her hand, showing she was nervous.

“Um… who’s asking?”

“Ah, sorry! My name is Lilith but you can call me Lily. I was told you knew where I could find a um… Mr. Zhongli?”

Zhongli? Why was she looking for him? Finding her safe enough, you opted to direct her to your boyfriend rather than giving information about yourself.

“Oh, yes I do! He’s back in Liyue but you’ll find him at Wangshen Funeral Parlor.”

“Thank you so much!” But she didn’t leave. A giggle escaped her lips and she met your eyes, giving you a dreadful feeling.

“Y-yes?”

“So he’s not here with you… good.” In the blink of an eye, Lilith was in front of you. She threw you back causing you to fly into a tree. You let out a scream as your weakened body hit the ground. Pain shot through you and you weakly looked up at her.

“Wh-why…”

“Pitiful. You’d think he’d choose someone of his caliber but no. He chose someone weak and pathetic like you. Your pyro vision was wasted on you.” Woah, where did her soft voice and shy demeanor go?

“Zh-Zhongli…” you called out as Lilith picked you up and slammed you into the tree once more.

“Call him all you want. But he won’t get here in time.” Lilith repeatedly slammed you into the tree before a sickening crack was heard.

A weak whimper escaped your bloodied lips as the light faded from your eyes.

“H-help m-me… Zh… Zhong… li…” Lilith caught your limp body and picked you up. A wicked smile played on her lips as she walked to her destination.

***

It had happened all so suddenly. Zhongli was meeting an acquaintance to talk about his work at the funeral parlor when he felt a sharp, intense pain in his chest and back. He just knew.

He threw everything away, apologizing to his friend and practically sprinting to where you two were supposed to meet. There he was met with a grim sight.

The picnic had been set up almost completely, but the large tree behind it was covered in blood. The Geo Archon knew exactly who it belonged to. He finally noticed the letter sitting on the table.

Once he read it, he ran to the nearest Statue of the Seven in hopes of finding you and whoever took you. But it was too late. When he finally reached the statue, his heart shattered.

Your body was on top of the statue, laying across the lap of the stone man. Blood trailed down your arm that hung over the edge and dripped from your finger. Your lifeless eyes stared into nothingness, the final sign of your death.

A large pillar solidified in front of him and he quickly climbed up to get to you. Zhongli’s shaky hand slowly and hesitantly touched yours. Cold. You were so cold. Where was your usual warmth? Where was that dazzling smile that often chased away his sorrows? Where was the light in your eyes? Where was the joy you brought him?

“M-my… (f/n)...” he murmured in a sorrowful tone, “what’s… no. No, this isn’t happening.” He pulled you down and into his arms, wincing at how lifeless you were.

You couldn’t be dead, you couldn’t have left him. He jumped down to the ground with you tightly in his arms. His eyes stung and his vision started to get blurry. Crying? An archon, crying? The tears slowly slid down his pale cheeks. His voice cracked when he spoke up.

“Wake up, my love. Please wake up.” He begged looking down at you. The blood trickled down your mouth, a clear sign you’d been killed recently. Within the hour, actually. “P-please blink… please wake up. Please come back to m-me. I just… I can’t do this without you. I…” what could he say? What could he do?

Zhongli had failed. He’d failed to keep you safe and alive. He’d vowed to always protect you and he vowed to never let you get hurt.

The tears spilled down his cheeks and the pain in his heart grew. He took your face in his free hand and took a good look at his consequence. At his failure.

“Tell m-me this is just s-some cruel joke, w-wake up and tell me this isn’t real. I-it’s just a n-nightmare, right? Right?” Zhongli held you tightly with his head pressed against your chest. Nothing. He heard nothing.

You never blinked, you never looked up at him with that adorable giggle, and you never exclaimed it was a joke.

You really were gone.

***

How many years ago was that now? Almost a thousand? Zhongli had never gotten over your death and how could he? His first and only lover had been ripped away from him and he still hadn’t found the murderer.

There had been a significant change in Zhongli since then. He was much more reserved and defensive but he was also very protective of anyone he came to call a friend. Ever since losing you, he found it hard to love and care for people the same way.

There was a constant emptiness, a loneliness that never left. No matter how many friends surrounded him, he always felt empty. Food and drinks were tasteless and the world lacked color. No smile matched yours, no warmth matched yours, and he never found a pair of dazzling eyes such as yours. And he was sure he’d never see them again… or so he thought.

“Zhongli! Are you coming?” Yehara asked, making the man look toward her.

“Oh, sure. Let’s go.” Zhongli had met Yehara a few years ago and had helped her during a commission. She hadn’t been doing so well and he’d practically saved her. Ever since then, she stuck to him like glue. Although he wasn’t terribly fond of her from the beginning, he grew to like her. Once they were close enough, Zhongli finally opened up about you and your death.

Yehara swore she’d help solve the murder and wouldn’t rest until he knew. Zhongli had grown much closer to her than he anticipated. The relationship gave him complicated feelings, ones he didn't want to even deal with.

At first, he wondered if he had feelings for Yehara or else why did he feel so comfortable with her? Why did he feel so safe? Why did he often find himself seeking her out when he felt alone? He was scared because you were long gone but for him it was just yesterday. Zhongli didn't want to move on, no matter how healthy it was. He only wanted you, nobody else. Not Yehara, not another archon, no one but you.

There were many things he felt with you that he didn’t with Yehara. Her smile didn’t light up his world, her laughter didn’t echo in his ears, her hugs didn’t leave him tingling, and her words never stayed with him for more than a minute.

There were many nights he spent thinking about himself and Yehara. Was he in love with her? It took some time, but he eventually came to the conclusion that didn’t. He hoped she didn’t either.

“Zhongli! Stop dozing off!” Yehara said, making him look down. He chuckled and patted her head, before looking away.

“Sorry, sorry. It won’t happen ag-” Zhongli stopped abruptly, his golden-orange eyes widened. No…

“Oh come on Zhongli, you just said this wouldn’t happen again.” Yehara huffed and followed his gaze. He was looking into a group of people but after a few moments, her red eyes widened as well.

A person, looking EXACTLY like you was smelling some flowers at a stall. You smiled and Zhongli’s heart sped up immediately.

“It’s them… that’s my (f/n)... I know it.” The archon whispered.

“That can’t be… I thought…” Yehara looked at Zhongli only to look back at you. The duo watched as you nodded and purchased the flowers and turned towards them. When your eyes landed on them you froze, almost as if you’d seen a ghost.

“They saw us.” Yehara gasped, bringing Zhongli out of his trance. You did. You were looking directly at him with the same look of shock. Without wasting any more time, you ran towards him and stopped right in front of them. Zhongli’s heart was beating out of his chest and he clenched his hands. Why were you looking at him like that?

“You’re… Zhongli, right? I’m (y/f/n)... I know you from my dreams.”

“Dreams?” Yehara asked and you nodded, giving her a soft smile. You were more beautiful than Zhongli had described. She could see why he was so infatuated.

“I began dreaming about you when I turned 20.” That was an odd coincidence, since you were 20 when he first asked you to be his.

“You… know me?”

“I do. I only know things from dreams and as dreams not memories… but since you’re here in front of me, there has to be some truth to them. So will you tell me more?” A smile of relief appeared on his lips and he nodded.

“Of course, anything for you… my (f/n).”

[twentytarot]

hi everyone! i’ve been hard at work with my job this past month but i am finally done and back with a reading. today, we’re doing a reading on marriage in your life in general. pick the tiffiany ring that sets your thoughts off, triggers a memory or invokes a strong emotion and scroll right down for your reading. see you there! 💍

CONTENT WARNING: there are negative piles here. not every pile has a future spouse.

PILE ONE: CUSHION CUT

if you were handed an ultimatum and forced to choose between marriage and work, you’d probably get into your car and go to work the next morning. this makes things a little complicated, because you’re ambitious, you’re feisty, you hate it when your time and attention is used up on something that doesn’t matter to you. if you get married, however, your time will be eroded by many things that don’t matter in hindsight. you see, there will always be ridiculous in-laws, there will always be someone that will want your help so long as it is available. someone is going to want kids, even if that decision is completely irrelevant to them, or something dumb like that. no married couple gets out of having to deal with these things, and no couple gets through it without fighting over it a single time. so, my question to you is: will you have the patience to see this through? or will you fold?

unfortunately, the cards don’t predict the best of outcomes when it comes to your marriage. you probably will decide not to get married in the first place. if you do, you might remarry, or get into a questionable third-party situation. yet, i don’t see this being a huge hindrance on your life as a whole. you seem to me like the kind of person who cares less about having an other half compared to your friends, and i think you are going to have so much going for you in other facets in your life that you won’t be clinging onto this relationship when it goes south. this gives me celebrity vibes, almost, like someone who can never be home and the relationship ends because work is so demanding. so this will be a little sad, but i’m confident you will pick yourself back up quickly. 

astrologically, cancer came out very strong, and the interpretation i want to go with is that your most significant relationship will be very cancerian in nature. comforting at first, but ultimately probably not aligned with what you want to do with your life. that’s alright, you’ll be able to afford your own diamond ring anyway.

PILE TWO: SOLITARE

well, pile two, it looks like someone told you “if no one is going to marry you, i will”, and then they took it seriously. i kid, but i do see an element of your future spouse being someone you didn’t expect at all. perhaps you thought they would just be a best friend that knows all your secrets. and yet, this person knows your darkest secrets and then offers you love in its purest form. i get the feeling you’re not quite used to that, pile two. i’m hearing this underlying feeling of “what if i give too much, wait what if i give too little”, and i think this is partly because you haven’t seen first-hand a marriage that is of the kind you want to be in. it feels like you’re not sure if happy marriages exist in your world. well, they do. it just turns out that you give just the right amount when you’re not trying, which is why a best friend finally becomes your spouse.

this person will be with you through thick and thin, you will feel like they are your soulmate. you will always feel balanced in your relationship with this person because they will always be silently watching the scales, tipping it this way and that whenever something is about to swing out of balance. they will help you feel like you have nothing to worry about, they will bring a childlike kind of happiness into your life. 

now, onto a little bit of warning. no marriage is only ever happy, and i sense that your source of pain will come from outside influences. money is one, health is another. you will be very much together, but it’s a blessing and a curse because when one goes down, the other follows. the advice to you is to try your best to lift each other up through bad times, and know when you have to detach and go do your thing alone for the good of your future with them. you don’t have to always turn around to make sure they’re following, they’re your forever! they’ll be there.

PILE THREE: ROSE INFINITY

your marriage isn’t going to be a very fast-paced one— when you meet your future person, you’re going to be eons away from being ready to get married, and they will be the same. i almost feel like you will laugh at yourself when you start dating this person. the relationship just isn’t... pretty. this person almost brings out the worst in you: you fight them about the stupidest things and rile them up all the time just because it’s funny. there’s ten separate occasions where you’re pretty sure you should have been dumped or dumped them for some iconic out of left field insults, but for some reason it’s just funny after you’ve both calmed down. so it’s fun, and it’s so 20-something, but you’re preparing yourself for the inevitable breakup. and then... it somehow never comes.

somewhere along the lines, you grew up, and so did they. you didn’t know it then, but this person brings the best out of you as much as they bring out the worst. like a tantrum that just has to be thrown before a little child can settle down, you took your growing pains out on each other, and then somehow managed to fit into each others’ lives forever without even thinking about it. you give each other love naturally, flowing with each other and keeping each other sane. after you get married, there’s a feeling of “i can rest when this person is around” kind of energy because you trust each other to come out with the truth when it needs to be said, but you also trust that the person will be there to pick up the pieces if you break.

so this person isn’t as good-looking as you hoped or imagined. or they’re not the type to show you off, and they’re not really the type that wants to be showed off either. so maybe someone made a joke at their expense and you laughed. the beauty of all of that is, despite all of that, they love you and will for a long time. isn’t that already more than we can ask for, as mere mortals?

PILE FOUR: YELLOW HALO

okay... there are two groups of people in this pile. let’s talk similarities first. your partner is going to be quite eccentric. visual arts came up in particular, so perhaps your partner will be an artist? the last similarity is that marriage is unlikely, but as for why, it depends on which interpretation resonates more with you.

for the first group, this is probably my lgbt+ in a place that hasn’t legalised marriages not between a man and a woman pile. for reasons that seem bigger than yourself, marriage is unlikely in your life. i feel a lot of unwelcome judgement coming from this group. i think you might not get too much support around you; maybe your parents have something against people who are not in “professional degree” jobs, or your family and environment as a whole is very conservative. regardless, you will be with this person, but it might be beyond both of your abilities to get married for real. :( i’m sorry, i wish the world were kinder.

if the first interpretation doesn’t resonate, then it has something more to do with your stubbornness. everyone wants someone that will take them for exactly who they are. that doesn’t change the fact that no two people are completely perfect for each other, though. every couple starts by taking apart their schedule and fitting the other’s in. tolerating strawberry shortcakes on their partner’s birthday even if they hate strawberries. stopping their work short even if it means that coming back to it will be hard because their partner needs something. advice here is to rethink your mindset. you could be very successful in your career, but if you think you won’t be able to go home to an empty bed, or you know that family is what you want in the future, then see how you can be more considerate to the people around you. we don’t always like to hear this, but being considerate and selfish is a never-ending balancing game, so don’t feel too bad. you’re not a bad person! these things just take time. whichever way you choose, i hope it’s the one that makes you the happiest!

[messers-moony]

Hargreeves Holidays | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Fem!Reader

Summary: A Christmas holiday with the Hargreeves.

Waking up on Christmas Day always felt like a typical day in the Hargreeves Manor. However, the kids were older now, and their guardian was dead. Luther had found a place of his own; Diego still lived in his room at the gym. Allison had a house of her own where she and Claire lived. After many court dates and lawyers, Allison proved worthy to have her daughter back in her custody, which the Hargreeves were more than excited to meet their new niece.

Klaus had remained sober for months now. Even though he found no one else to love aside from Dave, he remained sober. Klaus lived in a tiny apartment not far from the Hargreeves Manor. Ben Hargreeves followed Klaus around as per usual and couldn’t be happier at his sober brother. Vanya remained in her apartment. Finally, Y/n and Five both lived together in a shared apartment. A one-bedroom and two bathroom apartment they adored.

In completion of many many arguments, the Hargreeves decided to celebrate Christmas for the first year at Y/n and Five’s apartment. It had been five years since the apocalypse scenario had ended. They had officially stopped the apocalypse. It gave Y/n and Five the chance to work on their relationship, to be an actual couple.

Five couldn’t be happier; neither could Y/n. Granted, when their relationship was brought to light, it was kind of surprising. Their siblings never thought in a million years they would end up together. On the contrary, time works in weird ways, and they did. Waking up every morning to her in his arms made him feel loved.

Just days before this one, Y/n was stressing out over how to make this the best holiday possible. Meanwhile, her significant other, Five, was no help. All he wanted her to do was snuggle with her on the couch, which she would’ve been more than happier to do if her schedule wasn’t full. After enough persuasion from Five, she agreed just to rest her nerves.

And that’s how they needed up where they are now. Y/n was cuddled against Fives chest as he had his arms around her, pulling her close and protectively. The light began to come through the blinds of their bedroom, making Five wake up. His eyes fluttered open, and almost instinctively, he kissed Y/n’s forehead just like he did every morning.

He saw her eyes closed and felt her even breathing, indicating she was still asleep. Slowly he brought his hand up from her back to her head and ran his fingers through her hair, knowing it always calmed her. He hated to see her stressed, so to see her calm and at ease made him want her to stay like that as long as possible. Eventually, she woke up.

“ Goodmorning Love. “ Five whispered as she tried to snuggle closer to him.

She groaned, “ It’s too early. “ Y/n replied, making Five chuckle.

“ Okay, love. “ He smiled, leaning down to kiss her nose.

So the two significant others laid like that just for a couple more minutes. Before Five decided it was time for his daily morning coffee. So he let go of his girlfriend and stood up from the bed, making Y/n reach back out for him.

“ Hey, where are you going? “ Y/n whined, pouting her lips, making Five smile, “ Making coffee, you’re more than welcome to join. “

“ Can you bring me some? “ She smiled. “ Of course, only for you. “ Five replied, smiling and walking out of the bedroom, leaving Y/n to stay comfy in bed.

Five walked outside the bedroom with a stupid smile on his face. His girlfriend was powerful, literally. Her most potent superpower was ‘controlling’ Five into doing whatever she wanted. All she had to do was smile at him, and he’d do it; worst part of all? He knew it worked too.

Putting a pot of coffee into the coffee maker took a couple of minutes to brew but gave him time to prepare what he needed. He brought out two mugs and a bottle of Y/n’s coffee creamer from the fridge, which he despised, but she enjoyed it. After the coffee was made, he poured coffee into both mugs, splashed a bit of creamer into her cup. Finally, putting away the creamer and moving the pot of coffee back under the coffee maker.

He walked into the room with two mugs to see her on her phone, possibly scrolling through something or texting Vanya, a frequent occurrence. She saw him walk into the room and set down her phone to make grabbing hands towards him for her coffee. He handed her the mug and then walked to his side of the bed to sit beside her. She took a sip and smiled.

“ Thank you. “ She smiled, kissing his cheek lightly.

“ You’re welcome. “ He replied, after taking a sip of his coffee, “ So, what’s on your schedule today? “ Five asked as he took another sip of coffee.

“ Well, I pretty much have everything down. Everyone’s bringing what they want to drink, I think I just have to put everything out, but that won’t be till 6 o’clock since everyone should be here at 6:45. But you never know with Klaus. “ She chuckled, “ Oh! I have a request for you. “

“ I feel like you always have a request for me. “ He sarcastically replied, making her smack his arm, “ That’s not nice! Anyways. I have some presents for Claire that need to be wrapped, and since I’ve seen the gifts you’ve wrapped under the tree for me, which are perfect, I was wondering if you could do Claire’s for me? “ She grinned, taking a sip of her coffee.

“ Sure, is there anything else you need me to do? “ He asked, smirking slightly, “ After that, I just need you to sit still and look pretty. “ She winked.

“ Which you do a pretty good job at. “ She replied, looking him up and down, which was a loose tank top paired with some sweatpants, “ And I could say the same for you. “ He smirked, looking at his oversized shirt that she wore along with some shorts hidden from the t-shirt.

“ Shut up. “ She smacked his arm again, blushing, “ What? I’m just saying the truth. You look good. “ He smiled, kissing her cheek.

“ Alright I’m getting outta bed, you do what I need you to while I finished what I need to finish okay? “ Y/n asked standing from the bed and walking to the doorway.

“ Yes ma’am. “ He assured as she walked out of the room.

Time passed quicker then they both were expecting. Five had finished wrapping gifts for Claire and had taken a shower, to fulfill the request of his girlfriends called ‘sit still and look pretty’. Vanya had came over earlier then expected to help Y/n do anything that was needed which wasn’t much. After Y/n had taken a shower and changed it was 6:45 which was when Klaus showed up.

The door bell ring causing Five to get up and open the door, “ Fivey! “ Klaus exclaimed hugging his younger brother.

“ Hi Klaus. “ Five smiled wrapping his arms around his brother.

Once the two brothers stopped hugging Klaus walked in and began chatting with Vanya, meanwhile, Five closed the door. He walked into his shared bedroom to find Y/n doing last minute touches to her hair. He smiled and walked behind her, hugging her waist while his chin sat on her shoulder.

“ You look pretty. “ He smiled kissing her cheek, “ Thank you, you do too. “ She replied setting down the iron and turning it off.

She turned around in his arms, now fully hugging, “ Who’s here so far? “ She asked pulling away to look at her boyfriends face, “ Klaus, surprisingly. “ He smiled.

“ He’s on time?! Must be some form of Christmas miracle. “ She laughed while fixing a loose hair on his forehead, “ I got so lucky. “ He mumbled.

“ Mm? “ She hummed as her eyebrow furrowed with confusion, “ I got lucky. “ He answered.

“ How do you figure? “ She asked, “ Because you are a godsend. “ He grinned, kissing her forehead.

“ Oh Y/n~! Where’s your alcohol? “ Klaus’ singsong voice echoed making both lovers laugh.

“ I’ll be out in a second Klaus. “ She yelled in response, “ Come on love. “ She said kissing his cheek.

Both lovers walked out of their shared bedroom to their main room. They met the graze of Klaus and Vanya. Y/n stepped away from Five’s side to acquire the liquor Klaus wanted, which was on top of the fridge. She poured him a cup and handed it to him.

“ You only get a cup. You’ve done so well with sobriety. “ She warned, “ I know, I know. “ Klaus waved off taking the cup.

Then a knock on the door was heard again, making Y/n look towards Five. He rolled his eyes playful and walked towards the door, meeting the eyes of Allison, Claire, Luther, and Diego. He stepped aside and allowed everyone in.

“ Uncle Five! “ Claire shouted running into his arms, making Y/n smile from afar.

“ Hey little girl. “ Five smiled, ruffling her hair, “ Wheres aunt Y/n? “ Claire asked making Five point in her direction.

“ Hey Claire. “ Y/n smiled from the island of the kitchen, Claire immediately ran to her hugging her tightly.

Eventually everyone got settled in and sat around in the medium apartments living room. Claire sat on Allison’s lap and everyone else took their place on a couch. The hall began to make small talk. Until Claire had interjected.

“ Can we do presents? Please? “ Claire pouted.

“ Sure honey. “ Allison responded as Claire jumped from her lap onto the floor.

“ I’ll give everyone their presents and set them in front of everyone, okay? “ Y/n asked, “ Yes ma’am. “ Claire replied.

Y/n then went under the tree and gave the presents to their respected individuals. Y/n took her spot right next Five and everyone opened their presents. No one got anything in particular really but it was fun to see everyone happy, at least that’s what Y/n thought.

After everyone went home, Y/n and Five were left with the mess. Five was cleaning up all the wrapping paper while Y/n was cleaning the kitchen. Once Five finished he helped her complete everything else. Then both of them collapsed onto their bed.

“ I never wanna do that again. “ She laughed, rolling on her side to face Five, “ But we both know, you’ll do it next year. “ He smiled rolling over to face Y/n.

“ Yes I know but let me live in the moment. “ She smiled snuggling into his chest, “ Okay. “ He laughed as he pulled her close to his body.

“ You did a phenomenal job though, just like usual love. “ He complimented, pulling back to kiss her lips gently, “ Thank you. “ She responded after pulling away from his lips.

“ Anytime love, anytime. “ He smiled.

[odetolocksmiths]

“Make that Three”

A/N: I’m back! It got soooo busy with school and everything and it was causing so much stress so I set this blog aside for a little while. While going through my drafts yesterday, I saw this story and I really liked it. My original author’s note said I was so, so sorry because I thought it was bad? But coming back, I’ve come to the realization that I actually like this story ha! Anyway, if you’re still reading this author’s note, I hope things are going well in your life, and if they are currently not; I am sending out my thoughts and positive energy for you. My dm’s are always open <3 Enjoy reading :) xo Xuck

Summary: A few weeks before Molly decided it was time to bring the family back together, you run into George. After a special afternoon while spending some time with him, you show up at the ‘family sleepover’ holding a big secret.

 Warnings: Fluff, mentions of pregnancy and a piece of art written with some grammar mistakes 

"Y/N, my dear! How are you doing?” Molly asks while coming at you with her arms open wide, inviting you into a cuddle. You laugh and hug her back. 

“Hi, I’m doing good. How about you?” You answer while unwrapping your arms. Molly lifts her hand, places a hand on your cheek, and smiles. “Now that you are here, I’m doing great!”

“I’ve missed you all so much! Come, come. Let’s get you something to drink.” Molly’s hand grabs your wrist and before you know it, you sit at the kitchen table with a cup of hot cocoa in your hand. You look around the kitchen and you see that practically nothing has changed, everything was in the place where it belonged. You let your eyes roam over the wall of photographs, every member of the family was on the wall multiple times. There were photo’s of all the Weasley children while they were still young, photo’s of everyone celebrating Christmas, and photographs of the children with their significant others. 

You giggle at the photograph of Ron and Hermione on their wedding day, remembering the prank the twins had pulled on Ron. Fred and George had stolen his wedding suit and had it hidden somewhere very obvious. You have never seen Ron so stressed. Yeah okay, normally he is pretty stressed already, but this day topped it. Eventually, everything turned out to be fine.

You let your eyes roam the pictures again, now searching for the photographs with you in it. There were a lot because ever since you came home with Fred and George that one holiday, you were a part of the family and Molly saw you as one of her own. You let your eyes linger on the photograph of you and George longer than the others, your heart fasting up its pace and forming a small smile. It has been a couple of weeks since you last ran into him and things took an unexpected turn. It was a night of secret confessions, stolen glances, and lingering touches. The things that happened that one night, turned into a big, little secret no one knew of.

Molly intruded your thoughts as she began saying that it shouldn’t be long before the others are here. “It’s been a long time since everyone was home at the same time!” 

You laugh at her and before you get the chance to answer, the front door opens and reveals the sounds of the voices from the rest. Everyone planned to show up at the same time, bombing the silence in the burrow.

“Y/N/N!” Hermione screamed, flinging herself into your arms. “Dear Godric, I missed you soooooo much.” She says and you giggle. “Hi ‘Mione, how are you doing?” 

It took a good ten minutes taking the time to greet every member of the family minus three. Fred and George still had to work in the shop that day, so when the shop is closed they could come over with Fred’s significant other, Angelina. 

Everyone is taking their places at the dinner table, as it is the best place for everyone to be catching up at the same time. There are so many stories to be told, some needing to be told multiple times because the others got into a conversation of their own. No one got a hold of the time and before you know it, a couple of hours have passed. 

The front door slams open once again, revealing the last three persons missing at the table. Fred and Angelina took the first steps into the house. “Good evening my dearest family! How are you all doing?” Fred practically screams with a huge grin on his face. The whole family flew to the new people, hugging them and saying their greetings.

You were one of the last to greet Fred and Angelina, telling them your hi’s and how happy you are to be seeing them. Last but not least, you were the last to greet George. You e/c eyes catching his deep brown ones, showing a sparkle. He smiles softly and wraps his arms around your waist, while you throw yours around his neck. “Godric, I’ve missed you so much.” He mumbles and presses a secret kiss in the crook of your neck. With one last squeeze on your hips, he releases you and walks into the kitchen, ignoring the funny look on Fred’s face.

-

You and George were not official. There was in no way you could say you both were dating and it got a bit on your nerves right now. Everyone was done with eating and were now having a conversation - the millionth time today. You looked around the table and your gaze lingered around George’s. He was already looking at you. His mouth made the slightest smile which made you blush. It took everything in your strength not to fly over the table, grab George by his tie and kiss him on the mouth. You sigh and took another sip of your seventh cup of hot cocoa. Normally you wouldn’t have this much chocolate to eat, nevermind to drink, but lately you were craving it more and more. You knew why, it was a secret no one else knew so far.

Suddenly Molly gasped, flinging her hand over her mouth and looked surprised. Everyone stopped talking and stared at her. “Oh my, I’m so sorry!” She looks around, setting her eyes on Arthur. “I have made a mistake with counting the beds! We are missing one bed.” She puts her head in her hands and takes a deep sigh.

“It’s okay honey, we’ll figure it out.” Arthur says, putting his hand on Molly’s back.

“Well one of us has to sleep on the couch then.” Fred jokes and Ron laughs. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” You say and look Molly in her eyes. “No, no. You won’t have to sleep on the couch.” She mumbles and pulls her arm around you. 

“No Molly, it is okay. I don’t mind sleeping on the couch, I’ve grown to love it, to be honest.” You grin and take another sip of your hot cacao.

It's true, you have grown fond of the couch. You stopped numbering the moments you fell asleep on it, finding yourself waking up with a blanket wrapped around your body.

“Are you sure?” Molly asks and you nod. “Don’t worry, as long as I have my blanket and pillow, I can sleep everywhere.” You wink and she laughs.

-

It’s two o clock in the morning. Everyone went to their beds over two hours ago, leaving you in the living room with a blanket and a pillow. Molly has asked you a dozen times if you really didn’t mind and after practically sending Molly upstairs, she eventually accepted your answer. Right now you were sitting on the couch, the blanket wrapped around you while reading your book when you heard footsteps behind you.

“You really shouldn’t be sleeping on the couch. Take my bed, please.” The voice of George sounded. He came to sit next to you. “And sleep with Fred and Angelina in one room? No thanks.” You giggled and put your book down. 

George opened his arms, inviting you into a cuddle which you gladly accepted. You put your head against his chest while folding your arms around his waist.

“I missed you, you know.” George whispered into your hair, placing a kiss on top of your head. You felt your face heating up, happy he couldn't see you blushing. "I hate that we haven't talked since that night." 

"I know, me too." You mumble, pressing your face more into George's chest. "Do you really meant what you say back then?" You ask.

"Yes, I do." George puts his finger under your chin and lifts it so you have to look him into his eyes. "I want to continue this. What we have." He places a kiss on your mouth. Before you could answer his kiss, he has removed his lips already. 

"I want that too." You smile at him. He grins and pulls you closer. 

"Mom's going to ask us tomorrow if we all want to come along on vacation this summer. Should I say she has to reserve two places? You and me?" George asks, wrapping a string of your h/c hair around his finger. 

"Make that three." You whisper, looking into his eyes. You see his eyebrows turn into a confused state.

"What did you say?"

"Make that three. Three places." You repeat and you grab his hand and place it on your belly. "I meant to tell you tomorrow when I saw the chance of getting you alone but here we are." You throw him a soft smile. Scared of his reaction, you distance yourself from him and look into the fireplace.

"Are you serious?" His voice sounds hoarse. All you can do is nod. "Checked it multiple times, different methods. All came back positive." You mumble, still not looking towards George.

"Look at me." Was all he said, but you didn't hear him. "Love, could you please look at me?" He asked.

When you turned your head, all you could see was George with one of the biggest smiles you have ever received from him. He grabbed your face and placed a kiss on your nose. Then one followed onto your forehead, both your cheeks and eventually he left one on your mouth.

"I love you so fucking much.”