#I’m gonna make tue better | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jodilin65 · 32 years ago

Text

FRIDAY, JANUARY 31, 1992 I am on the phone now with Bob but he just hung up. He’s got a new job and is tired and must get up at 5:00 this morning. Lucky for him he’s so tired. I wish I could say the same for myself. The truth is, I got myself on a screwy schedule again as I knew I would.

I’ve got to call Carol back tomorrow. I called the DA’s office that’s been jerking me around since day one and they will not speak to me. Only Tracy can call them but she hasn’t called them, the PD or me. So I told them fine, defense wins in this case and I’m going to take matters into my own hands now and handle the rest of this case by myself. I will get those tapes back.

As usual, I only spoke to Kim for two seconds. She was only home an hour and God only knows if she’s home yet. For her to be out at 2:00 in the morning, though, would mean she’s on an ambulance all.

I started to pack a little more but I wish Tammy would hurry up and call with a definite date. That way I can get started with all the bullshit I’ve got to do both here and when I get there. Here, I must go to the bank, figure out a way to transfer my prescriptions, call SS and food stamps, put in a change of address at the post office. I’ve also got to get groceries and figure out what the hell to do about Sheila. She has to be able to see me Tuesday as that’s one day Kim’s free. I will call her tomorrow. When I move I’ll have to get a new doctor like Dr. Leitch, get that lactose test, see a dentist, call SS and food stamps and get a new bank.

Later…

I just had some cereal and looked through my photo album. I opened up my skylight and some other windows after I put the ceiling fan on and aired this dusty place out. I sure am gonna miss the ceiling fan, the skylight, the Jacuzzi, the dishwasher, garbage disposal, washer, dryer and all this space. And central AC, too.

As soon as I move, I will save up to buy a secondhand washer.

Later…

I am sitting here listening to my tapes of Andy calling the CC. He’s having a “major problem” with looking out his window and seeing cactuses and palm trees. He also says it is very warm out with lots of sunshine. Everyone else is telling him it’s dark out and very cold out. He also has a very very strange sister who has a crazy laugh and says all these things that make no sense at all.

I took an old bathing suit which is too big, cut the material and covered one of my not-too-attractive journals with it. Sort of like how you put a book cover on a book.

Later…

I’m doing much better at changing my schedule than I thought I would. I called Sheila and she’s moved my appointment from Mon. at 4:15 to Tues. at 10:15. I will fill out the transfer papers with her. Mon. at 6:30 I see Cassandra.

I called Sally and Jill. Jill answered and she now has her own room. She said she’ll be having lunch with Sally and will give her my new number. They never got my new number after they returned from vacation as Jill said the system was down. They both sound super nice and who knows? Maybe I can get a little fun before I move. Of course, the question is, will I get so lucky again as far as sexual attraction? And so soon, too?

I called Carol, who got a call from the DA’s office. I’m gonna call Chief B next Mon.

I spoke to George too, who said it was fine with him if I drain the waterbed out the bedroom window in the front. Kim was paranoid about that and insisted we do it out the back. I told Kim that water wouldn’t destroy the planet. It rains and snows, doesn’t it?

George emptied my barrel outside and it broke cuz it was frozen so he gave me a new one. He said I could take it with me and that they’d give me boxes.

I think I’ll go now and listen to some more tapes.

Mark’s awake. I just heard him flush the toilet. Mark played a funny prank on me the other day. I also played one on him in return. I will write all about that later. Current Location: Massachusetts

THURSDAY, JANUARY 30, 1992 Kim was over earlier and she got all my stuff out of the attic. Boy, is that thing dusty! She gave me 3 more boxes, too.

Dad called at 11:00 this evening, and I also had a nice chat with Tammy.

In the morning I must call the DA about my tapes. Tracy never returned my calls. Carol told me to call the DA. God, I hope and I pray all goes well with that! Please, God! Let me have all my tapes back. Please! Know what they mean to me. Know they will not be abused. I have learned my lesson once and for all. Please, if there’s a God and he can hear me, please let me have all my tapes as they were.

I don’t know just when I will go to bed, but I should soon. That way I won’t sleep too late.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 28, 1992 I’m only gonna write a little as I am very tired. I met with Cassandra today and that was nice.

The American Music Awards was on and to my surprise, Gloria wasn’t even there or nominated. Yesterday Jessie called to tell me Gloria was on channel 3 but I can’t get that. Gloria’s gonna be on the Disney channel for 3 different nights and I want to try to get Tammy to tape it for me. I doubt she’ll want to bother, though.

Around 8:00 this evening I got two pranks from that same guy who called the other number. It figures I’d get a call while I was taping channel 40 and watching channel 22. I told the guy to call me in a few hours. Meanwhile, he could entertain my machine. I was hoping he’d call back after 11:00, but he failed to after all. Bummer.

I’m 99% sure it’s an associate of Maliheh’s. There’s no way it could be Fran as this is the same person who mentioned the CC. Knowing I was there, I mean, and Fran never knew I was there. I doubt it’s tied in with the cops or anyone else who works downstairs cuz how would they know? Mark would admit to it for sure if he’d put a friend up to it. The only other possibility is someone who works at the CC, but that’s highly unlikely. It’s Maliheh.

Later…

Well, I got my schedule all fucking screwed up again. Whenever I do go to sleep, I’ll have to allow myself only two hours of sleep. I hope to hell I hear the alarm. I’ve got to go to the store for some cigarettes.

Earlier this evening Kim made us some popcorn. I watched TV and typed a letter to Nervous. I have a letter for Fran, too, along with my bills. I’m gonna also send Andy a letter and pretty much count on only me sending letters. He’ll only send one once a year. Maybe twice if I’m lucky and I hound him for it. He tried calling yesterday around noon. He left a quick message singing part of one of Gloria’s songs.

It would be nice if I could hurry up and get an exact moving date. That way I can begin with all the transferring. Such as my bank, SS, and I’ll have to make several other calls.

What the fuck is taking Tracy forever to return my call? I’m just gonna call the police station myself. I’ve got to get my stuff back.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 26, 1992 Kim got home the other day and she has a great tan. She gave me this really cute satin pillow which is small and has silk flowers on it. It also has silk ribbons all over it such as the ones that are in my journals that I made bookmarks out of. It’s got lace outlining on all sides and it can be hung on the wall. She also gave me a glass butterfly and an elephant. A tiny porcelain-like heart-shaped jewelry box. Or for whatever you want to use it for. Lastly, she gave me a 10”x10” or so heart that sticks on both sides. So I peeled them both off and stuck on an old blue glittery type material from a shirt Andy gave me before he left. When I move, I’ll put the yellow bow Kim made for me in the center of it and hang it.

The reason why I’m not gonna put anything together here anymore is cuz I’m finally moving. Tammy was able to get the girl at the NHA to move me to the top of the list. Also to get mom to keep her word about paying for the move. Tammy’s got some friends to help move me and she’s gonna rent a U-Haul.

George mailed Tammy a note which she gave to the girl in the office there about how the other people he rented my place out to are hounding him to move in here.

I called and spoke to a woman named Mary Jane. She told me a few things about the apartment. One thing is that it’s on the 1st floor and that makes me a little nervous. I haven’t seen the general layout inside and outside but I hope no one rips me off while I’m out. Also, if I want to leave my windows open at night while I’m asleep, will it be safe? Who knows, but I’ll mind my own business even though that sometimes doesn’t work. I will not associate with my neighbors even though the girl said there’s only one family near me. There are 4 apartments side by side and I’m on the end. The people next to me are a husband and wife with 4 kids. Even though I’ve basically had excellent neighbors, I’m out to avoid people like Bonnie and Brenda. Plus, I always start off with a problem or a fight with someone, then we’ve become friends. Yet I no longer care to stick it out and go through that again till the happy ending comes around. For example, I don’t want to be at a female neighbor’s house, get along with her very well and have her brother who’s a pervert bother me. I’ll only go off on a rampage and start a fight with the guy. I will not kiss ass or try to be friendly and resolve any problems or misunderstandings. I will not let any problems or misunderstandings start in the first place. That is if I can help it, of course. If a guy knocks on my windows, that’s a different ballgame. I will open the door and do my best to bash his head into dog meat. Overall, I do like the idea of having no one above or below me. Only on one side of me and there’s probably a firewall there. There was a firewall between me and Anna and Julia on Oswego St. but not between me and Mattie so who knows. The girl told me music is no problem. The people next door play it, too.

It has no apartment number or letter, I guess. It has hardwood floors, no dishwasher or disposal. Not even laundry facilities on the premises. She said there is a hook-up for a washer and a huge clothesline out back. They’re gonna be installing dryer hook-ups. Tammy said for now I can do my wash at her place and save up for a second-hand washer. I can do that in a couple of months as the rent’s only $138! Heat and hot water are included. The electricity, I’ll still have to pay. Tammy saw it and she said it is small and definitely not what I’m used to, but what do you expect for $138?

Tomorrow sometime, I’ll write more about the move and about Cassandra who I am gonna desperately miss even more than Kim. I’m going to miss her most of all and I have become very fond of her and I wish there were more people like her. The world could use that.

Later…

Well, I sure as hell hope I’m not up all night. I didn’t get up till 1:30. I have to back my schedule up quite a bit if I’m gonna go for that test on Wed.

Kim gave me some trash compactor bags I bought from her as well as gave her the money she left me. She had left me $30 till Tony was able to bring me to court and back. I gave Mark $20 while Kim was in Florida. Tonight I wrote out a check for the remaining $10, plus the 2 trash compactor bags. That was a total of $11. I owe nothing to no one now. Just $21 to the phone company, $58 to the electric, and $260.52 to Peter. I’m only paying him half of the rent as I’ll be gone in the middle of Feb.

I’ve got to get ahold of Tracy about my tapes. She’s so hard to reach and takes forever to return your calls.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 22, 1992 Bob’s on the phone now and he’s watching his sign language tape. I just hung up with him so I could write. I know I have several things to write about but my mind sort of went blank.

Last Sunday, or last Saturday actually, I did quite a bit around here. First, I made a plant hanger from the ribbons Kim gave me. I put it up by the attic inside the alcove, on the side sticking out. It looks nice there and it’s out of Shadow’s reach. Plants really do something for apartments, houses or any place. I want to get into plant collecting as it really makes the place look nice.

I also took some round coasters and cut out pictures of Gloria to fit in them. They look nice.

Now for what really looks super cool. I went and got that huge glassed-in picture that I had put in the little hall between our doors. I busted it out of the frame, took the cardboard backing, the picture itself and made a huge picture collage. I have 36 pictures on one and almost 40 on the other. These are of the family. And friends too. There are Lisa, Becky, Sarah, Tammy, Bill, Mom, Dad, Andy, Kim, Mark and me.

Yesterday was a horror story. Due to the fact that I don’t have a lease, the landlord can ask you to move for no reason at all. I spoke with Peter, who says he’s giving me till March 1st, as these people are pressuring him about moving in. I told him it’s not my fault that last December I was 100% sure I was moving and that my mom backed out. I said I’d take him to court if I had to and the law doesn’t allow you to fuck with someone who’s on SS or SSI so easily. I went through this with Russ and even though I won him over, I wasn’t about to put up with it all over again. I’ve been through so much shit in the last year, both my fault and not my fault.

He spoke with Tammy and he’s gonna “work with her” so to speak and try to have a little compassion and understanding. I spoke with George today and he said, “You could stay forever and ever, it’s just that you did say you were moving.”

So, I explained to him what’s going on and he said to just hang in there as things do get better and he’s sympathetic to both sides. These people are living with their in-laws and are going crazy. I’m isolated with nothing and nobody and going crazy myself.

A part of me was telling myself, keep calm, it’ll work out, you’ve been through so much shit already, you can handle one more piece of shit, relax and don’t let them win. The other part said - I’ve had it and I don’t give a shit!

That was when I cut myself.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 17, 1992 Andy may be calling tonight. I forgot which nights he said were his nights off.

Fran must’ve forgotten my new number again as I have not heard from him. It usually takes 2 or 3 times for him to remember stuff like that.

Andy should’ve received his letter along with his bracelet by now. I’m working on several letters right now. I got a postcard in the mail from Kim today. She says she’s really enjoying herself and has a nice tan. That I can surely believe. She tans easily and is darker to begin with. She included some lines on the postcard. The mailman must’ve been quite confused. Kim will be back in 6 days. That’ll be nice as seldom as I see her anyway.

I’ve spoken briefly to Bob yesterday and I’m gonna give him a call soon.

”Shauna D” was enrolled in the Mystery Guild book club by Andy. Shauna’s getting two free books now for enrolling “Saundra C.”

I spoke to Ann Marie last night. We had a very pleasant talk. However, I don’t have a car and it’s just oh-so easier to be alone. We discussed her coming up for a visit which is nice but we’re gonna remain friends. She needs to find someone, ready, able, willing and not afraid or insecure. I feel I have nothing to offer her or anyone else other than friendship or sex. I was open and honest with her. I had to be. We discussed how my therapist says I push people away subconsciously but I can’t help it. I have to do what I have to do. I can’t be changed into relationship material. It is too late. The damage is done and the way I am is the way I am. There are some things that are so much a part of us and we cannot change. I can’t handle too much closeness. Also, I don’t have any real desire or will that one needs if they do want more than friendship and sex. What can I do? At least I was upfront about it. I had to say hey, this is who I am. I really admire her a lot. She’s so beautiful, too. Therefore, I hope she meets the right woman and settles down with her. She really really deserves it. A person like her shouldn’t have to be alone. She has so much to offer. A hell of a lot to offer.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 16, 1992 Boy, did I have a great day. They dismissed my case in Northampton and are going along with the Greenfield disposition. I will not have to go back to Northampton court again. All I have to do is see Sheila every now and then and continue with Cassandra. That’s no problem.

Tony and I went to a Chinese restaurant after.

Yesterday I got an unexpected surprise in the mail from my parents. A $10 bill along with some cigarette coupons.

I had a very positive talk yesterday with Tammy, too. We got a lot of stuff out in the open.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 15, 1992 Andy called earlier this morning. At 8:30.

I’ve been up since 4 AM. I fell asleep last night at 8:00. I feel groggy, though, and I just can’t seem to shake it. Part of it is boredom.

I’ve got to go to court tomorrow and so that’s on my mind. I tell myself not to worry yet I have a bad feeling about my tapes and all the other shit like the wrong way the investigation was handled. I have no idea what the hell’s going on. But I do know this, when I go to Greenfield court to see Sheila, I am gonna file charges on both Maliheh and Jenny. It’s about time the treatment’s fair. I’m not letting anyone ever again get away with not paying for something they’ve done while I have to pay for what I’ve done. Fair is fair and that’s how I operate. I give what I get. That is within reason, of course. Now it’s time for Jenny and Maliheh to have to take a timeout here and there to be dragged through the mud. Face up to what they’ve done wrong just like I had to.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 14, 1992 Today’s been pretty good so far. I got up at 5:00 and at 5:45 Bob called. He said he had a car till 2:00 this afternoon. Some guy loaned him the car so Bob could pick his wife up at work at 9:00. Then, bring her to a doctor’s appointment and back to work. I took a shower, straightened my hair and put on some makeup. By 6:45 Bob was here. He brought two plants called Wandering Jews. He also brought over some pound cake, banana nut bread and sample packets of my favorite coffee.

We were both so thrilled to get the hell out so he took me to Food Fart. I needed very badly to go. Cassandra was going to take me last night but I was too tired and I really needed to talk. This all worked out for the better and I spent $101 in food stamps and $18 in cash. I still have almost $60 left for the month.

Besides cigarette money, I still got to get Gloria’s songbook, and Linda has a new album out. It’s in Spanish. The last one was Canciones de mi Padre. I believe this one is Canciones de mi Madre.

Yesterday I spoke to Tracy and my court date isn’t this Wednesday, it’s Thursday. I got in touch with Tony who says it’s no problem. Great.

When Cassandra was here last night, we discussed certain family issues that I’ve written about. She told me her 20s were the pits. Her teens were worse and things really didn’t get better till she reached her 30s. She’s 42 now. She’s very pretty for her age, too. She told me to call her at home and let her know about shopping and court.

It’s good that I got to go to Food Fart today cuz Cassandra wasn’t able to take me until Thursday and that only would’ve been if there was enough time.

Man, is it pouring out! It’s so dark, too. I opened the blinds in the bedroom and it was still too dark to write without the lamp on.

I just came out into the kitchen. If it weren’t for the skylights, most of this place would be quite dim.

This year I’m really anxious for summer to hurry up and arrive. I’ll be seeing Andy in July and if I’m in CT, I can tan at my sister’s with that huge kiddy pool. Also, I can wear my summer clothes.

Even though everyone says I’m nuts, I want to lose 10 pounds anyway. Or basically, pull in my muscles so they’re tauter rather than lumpy and bulky. That way I’ll have a nicer shape.

Well, I think I’ll go see if Mark’s up. Then I’ll call Bob.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 12, 1992 Well, my schedule’s definitely gotten better. I slept till almost 3 AM. I woke up at 10:30 with just a little wheezing so I got up, took my meds, went to the bathroom, then went back to bed.

During the night I spoke to Bob. Or actually, I didn’t speak to him till 7:30 cuz after I woke up I watched the shows that I had taped.

I changed Shadow’s box, vacuumed out the stairwell and took a walk down to Cumberland. I saw an article with Gloria saying that she was abused sexually at age 9. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were true, even though 95% of the stuff in Star magazine’s bullshit. Also, I wouldn’t be surprised if it were true cuz it’s so common.

I only had $2 and needed milk. I got a microwave hot dog and a candy bar too, but as soon as I can, I’ll get the magazine. I’ve got to spend my cash sparingly, but I’m well held over till I go food shopping. That’ll be tomorrow evening, but I don’t know the exact time.

I had one message when I got up. It was from Mom saying she’ll get in touch with me sometime this week, don’t call her back, and did I get my coupons?

Later…

I did some singing both with and without records.

When I went to call Bob, I dialed wrong and began singing as soon as I heard what I thought was Bob pick up. It was a guy around his age that said, “I like that singing. Do it again.”

Later…

I did more singing and I’m so happy to say that it was truly great. For a while there, I wasn’t exercising my voice regularly and it was either just good or ok. I didn’t really get into the exercises, but nonetheless, it was super good today. It started off a little raspy due to congestion but before long it opened up and cleared up.

About an hour ago I went to call Bob back but Sandra says he took a walk to the store. We spoke for a while and she told me a little about her background and her family. Since she’s got terminal cancer, she’s hoping she can hold out long enough to visit her two aunts in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. That’s so sad.

I wish Mark would be kind enough to call or come over and say hey, I know you’re alone and bored half the time, so how about some company? Or going out for coffee and donuts or something, but no. Do people care anymore? What does he spend all his time doing when he’s not at work? Is he even home now?

Later…

Tony just called. He will be able to drive me to court and back, too.

I think I’ll give Bob a call now. I’m sure he must be back home by now.

I want to try to stay up till 8:00. In order to stay up a while longer, maybe I’ll write some letters. Maybe I can also cook some of that shrimp Tammy gave me.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 11, 1992 As time goes on, I wish more and more I lived where it’s warm all the time. I’m sick of snow and I hate winter clothes. I like to run around in shorts and skimpy tops. I like the thought of being able to swim year-round and being near a pool or a beach. Something tropical and beautiful like where my parents live. I’d never want to live in their mobile home, though, as you can’t make any more noise than a whisper without the whole island hearing you.

Of course, I’d definitely have to have an AC constantly.

It sucks knowing I’ll never have the money to move or travel. Other than moving to CT, of course. Too bad I can’t get to Old Colony Beach by bus. That would be the perfect thing for me in the summer. I’d be out more and it could really occupy my time in a fun productive way. How often is Tammy gonna want to go? I’m sure she can bring me to her house so I can tan on her deck. That great big kiddy pool is nice to use so you can cool off. I get sun heated very very easily. I guess it’d be cooler there in the woods and with all those trees. I hope the trees don’t block out the sun’s rays. It would probably have to be at a certain angle at a certain time of day. Here in the parking lot, you have to wait till around 1:00 in the afternoon. Before then, the sun’s on the other side of the building.

Later…

I’ve finished Andy’s bracelet and written him a letter. I will go throw it in the mailbox later. Since I still have so many stamps, I may as well write Andy, Fran and Nervous more letters. Maybe Mom, Dad and Tammy, too.

In the center of town here, someone’s bound to have a copying machine. If so, I’d like to photocopy my drawings and send them to Andy. Maybe Peter has a copying machine.

I wonder if Bill at the CC will take me up on my taping offer. Editing offer, I should say. I spoke to him earlier in the week. He was in Canada on vacation but says he hasn’t forgotten.

Earlier, I spoke with Bob. I told him to call me anytime and that if I didn’t answer, he could entertain my machine. He left a message making these funny noises. Another message with Linda Ronstadt singing Tracks of my Tears.

As many problems as Bob has, he’s really a nice person. Late at night, we’ve had some good talks. He’s not only up all night, he’s up all day, too. He only sleeps an hour or so due to so much back pain. Last May he had major back surgery. That’s how he met Kim. She was his nurse. He met her 6 months after I did. I had originally thought they met around the same time Kim and I met.

Guess not.

Later…

I am trying my best to keep awake. I’ll manage, but it’ll be hard.

I’m writing at my kitchen table. At this time of day, the sun is directly in front of the window/door. Boy, is it ever bright here but the warmth of the sun feels nice. These windows are about 6 feet tall and almost 6 feet wide. At the same time, you feel like you’re outdoors as it is so bright and sunny, the warmth of the sun makes you feel as if it’s summer out.

The neat thing about the heating system here which is hot air blowing up from the floor is that it sounds like an AC. They are not noisy, though. All you hear is air softly blowing. It’s better than radiators hissing and clanking like an old-fashioned cash register. I hate radiators. There are only 5 floor vents here. They’re only 8 x 6 inches yet it’s amazing how well they heat a 1400-square-foot apartment.

I spoke with Bob about a half-hour ago. He wishes he had his car fixed. So do I. That way we could get the fuck out. Maybe go to Dunkin Donuts or someplace like that to talk in the wee hours of the night while the rest of the world’s asleep.

I wonder if Mark’s up yet or if he’s even home. Kim gave me 3 pictures Bob took of him in his uniform standing by his cruiser. I called him at 1:30 last night when I heard him come home to tell him I’d be up if he wanted company. Or to hear more edits and have coffee. He said another time would be better as he had a busy night. Two arrests and other shit went on, too. Wouldn’t Mark love to be a cop in Springfield?

I better go get Shadow and leash him down. I have a bad feeling he’s gonna wake me up. I’ll fucking kill him. I’ve got to get on a schedule. If I can somehow sleep past midnight, then till 5 AM on Monday morning, I’ll be all set to go grocery shopping with Cassandra Monday evening.

Later…

I am still up and oh so exhausted.

I forgot to mention that yesterday I got some mail from my parents. I had sent them 10 pictures. Three of them Bob took on my birthday after Kim took me to Ponderosa. Two were of me and Mark setting stuff up when I moved in. One was just of Mark. One of Kim and I. One of Mark and I. Two of me sitting on Kim’s piano bench with Shadow.

They sent them back as I asked them to along with some coupons for cigarettes, cat food, coffee, chocolate pudding, and pads. They also sent this little calendar in which you peel the back off so you can stick it wherever. That was nice of them as I had one stuck to my waterbed shelves last year. Shortly after I moved here, Kim gave me a calendar like that.

I hope Kim is enjoying herself in Florida.

If my parents were to invite me to their place, I’d have to be sure not to be dumb enough to go. Can’t let the thought of tanning and swimming block out my mother’s shit. I’m dying to go swimming and get a tan, but it isn’t worth dealing with her bullshit. Unless I avoided her all the time, that is, but it still isn’t worth it. A person passing up a vacation that’s all paid for is telling you something, huh? With someone like sweet Dureen O included in the package, forget it.

I’m just so drop-dead tired. I don’t think I’ll be able to hold out much longer. I feel like shit, too. I hope I sleep later.

Later…

I put Shadow on his leash down at the bottom by his litter box. From now on, I go by my very strong “feelings.” My feeling told me I’d be woken up by him clawing on the door if I didn’t leash him down.

Ann Marie hasn’t called and frankly, I don’t know if she should call me. She was beautiful, great in bed and was a super nice person, but there were a few things that bugged me. At first, she told me she too, liked the idea of the person not living close by. That way she can have space and not feel smothered. She also told me to be myself yet complains that I’m so sensitive. I told her I’m not used to being touched. When you’re deaf in one ear your other senses are sharper, I told her. There were also things she’d point out about me that she’d call weird, but she’d do the same thing herself. The last time we spoke she says she wishes the person was closer as she’s sick of driving.

Then, she went on and on about my not having a car, yet I told her this when I responded to her ad. Then she went on and on about her grandmother regretting never getting her license and having to depend on a bus or other people. As if she was trying to make me feel guilty and as if I have the money for a car and no fear of driving.

I thought she was gonna accept me the way I am. I told her not to try to change me and that my door’s always open for her to walk out and stay out. I’m not gonna go through it again. The contradictions, I mean. She’s pretty and I like her, but I don’t want to bother. I’ve learned very well that the deeper you get in, the deeper shit you get in. The sexual experience was what was important to me and what I wanted. That, and that only was very very worth it. I only hope there’s no price to pay for that moment of happiness. In 4 more days, we’ll see.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 10, 1992 I thought I’d do a little writing while I was waiting for my pork chops to cook. I’m really bored right now and I was hoping to hear from Andy who left a message while I was asleep. I tried to call him collect so he’d refuse it and call me back but his voice mail came on. He probably thinks I made it to New York after all.

Last night I woke up at 9:00 and I was bummed out as I was unable to beat that tonight. I got up at 7:00 and I’m still pretty tired. I doubt I’ll be able to go to sleep for a few hours. Once I’m up, I’m up. Tired or not.

I tried to call Bob, but Sandra says he’s all upset about Kim’s trip to Florida. She leaves tomorrow. She’s lucky cuz she’s not gonna have to deal with anyone like my mom to spoil her vacation. At least not that I know of.

Speaking of my mom and my whole family, well, I’m really disappointed. Just when I believed they were beginning to believe in me and understand me, I feel just the opposite. These people think they have me all figured out yet they don’t even know me.

Later…

I know now that I’ll never sleep and that there’s no use in trying.

I hate how my family is so sure I want something due to a certain reason when in fact it is for a whole different reason. And they just cannot, for the life of them take my word for some things I say. I wish they’d realize that if I have something to say to them, I have no reason to lie. Granted every now and then we all tell little white lies but for me to do so would require a damn good reason. Rather than lie to them, I just wouldn’t say anything at all. An example is if I paid $20 for a necklace and I didn’t want to tell them that, I’d not say a word, rather than lie and say it costs $10.

There’s a reason why I’ve run around giving them a taste of their own medicine lately. When my mom accidentally knocked over my guitar, I knew it was an accident. Despite how rude she was about my wanting to play in MY house. She was ignoring me anyway so I figured I’d just do my thing. Despite her antics and her dramatics, I accused her anyway of doing it out of spite. With anyone else, I could never do that and I’d feel guilty and she begged me not to tell anyone she did it deliberately cuz she didn’t. I asked her how it felt to be accused of something untrue and reminded her of the knife story. Or hammer. Or whatever the fuck they said it was I was supposed to have attacked them with in my teens. The truth of that night was that they were provoking me and saying some nasty, cruel, false, vicious and unnecessary shit about me. Therefore, when I told them to fuck off, they couldn’t handle it and didn’t want to hear it. That’s when dad came charging at me. He’s got to hit when he can’t get his way and gets frustrated and we disagree. He can’t communicate. He can’t speak rationally, honestly or listen to my true honest feelings. He can if he agrees with them and they meet his standards but I have a mind of my own. And no two minds are alike. So what was I supposed to do? I had to defend myself and I most certainly wasn’t just gonna stand there and let the bully swing at me. When they asked me why I wouldn’t lie to them, I told them I have nothing to fear from telling them the truth. What are they gonna do? Come and spank me? Ground me? Take away my stereo? Cut me down verbally? Send me away? Of course, in their opinion, name-calling like calling me a sicko is always a brilliant way of settling our differences.

Later…

I just got done listening to music and now I have another winner to write about. Here’s exactly what I mean about people putting false ideas into my mind. When my father and I discussed my having a kid, he insisted my only intent was so I could run around telling people I have a kid. Now, anyone who knows me well enough knows I know that’s a hell of a reason to have a kid. And just who would I tell? How would it impress them? He makes it sound as if I meet 20 new people a day. That is one of the reasons I no longer want to have a kid. Oh, I still want to, but not nearly as much as I used to. I don’t need to hear their opinions 20 times a day. I don’t need to be told how to do this and how to do that unless I ask. I don’t need to hear over and over how much I should be just like them. I don’t need the kid caught in the middle. Plus, there are other things to consider. I’m not rich or near rich. With all the drugs and war and crime in this world, I don’t know. A parent can only tell their kids so often what not to do. From there, it’s up to the kid to say yes or no to drugs and other stuff. My parents warned me about cigarettes. Even if they never smoked, I’d still have started anyway. Of course, I wouldn’t be puffing away on a cigarette in front of my kid, telling it not to ever smoke.

My parents tell us how hitting or any kind of violence isn’t a way to solve disagreements, but what do they do when they have a problem with their kids? Hit them.

Also, another reason not to have a kid is cuz I have no car. You can’t keep a kid cooped up in an apartment day after day. They always need doctor’s checkups and I would be, too.

Lastly, the idea of pregnancy and childbirth is too overwhelming. I’d be excited and maybe enjoy the experience but I’m so sensitive to pain and I’m small. I don’t think I could get through it. If my kid was born with a severe handicap, then I’d really feel helpless with no car and no money in spite of Medicaid.

In all situations, I do not kiss ass. I do what I want with this as an exception. This way I don’t have to go through any shit and everyone else is happy.

There are also many other things about the family that bothers me. Talking to them does no good as they get impatient or they’re in a hurry. They’re unable to really hear me out, give me a chance and keep an open mind. They’re just so set in what they want to believe. Certain people’s beliefs make sense and other ones just don’t cut it. Especially when it’s only the family. Other people see things differently and are less judgmental. And these other people are honest and would never lie to me. These people will give me constructive criticism on days when I’m not singing well. I will also come out and say when I feel it’s not my day vocally. They think every singer in the world’s got to have a great voice when I can name about 6 “famous” people off the top of my head that suck. Obviously, they have connections, money and other related talents that they’re good at. Or they slept their way. I never claimed to be a great singer but I know I sing well enough. When Tammy told me I sang well but do I really think I’m good enough to sing on tape, I told her to think back a few years ago. Knowing I had yet to develop my voice and that it’d take time. When I was 18, no way was I ready for that. She then said she wouldn’t buy the tape. She’s also never really sat down and listened to me and she’s never heard me on tape. So, before she’s given me a chance, she has her mind set that I’d make a sucky tape.

Why is it only the family’s been saying this since I was 21? The rest of the people, before I was 21, told me they felt I had potential, go for it and try to develop it. Why do I also have the feeling that even if I was a great singer, she’d still say I’d make a lousy tape? And then, of course, be positive the next day. Every singer has their good and bad days, but come on, make up your mind. They go back and forth. Me and 5 other people could each sing a song perfectly for my parents and Tammy, and while they told everyone else they were great, they’d still say I sucked.

It just seems as if everything I do is wrong even if it’s right. Nothing satisfies them. And if I decide something’s not for me like manicuring, I’m called a failure and punished for it for the rest of my life.

Other than my phone calls, nothing’s right. The way I dress is either too bummy or too dressed up. They define flashy as trashy. Do they think I’d wear clothes that don’t fully cover my privates? If my mother or sister were at a party and someone wore a sexy dress, they’d love it and probably compliment the woman. But I’d get called a whore if I wore the exact same dress. Why is it always me? It seems as if others can do whatever they want and everyone’s happy.

Later…

About an hour and a half ago, I spoke to Andy. We discussed a lot of the stuff I just wrote. I played him my latest edition of edits. He was cracking up over the girl with the CP.

According to Kim, Tony lost his job and is bored. I don’t know why he lost his job and it really doesn’t matter. What matters is that hopefully, he can bring me home from court as well as to court.

Speaking of court, am I simply paranoid or having a bad premonition? Remember how I always believed that certain things are ok for some people? Certain things aren’t ok even if they’re not wrong. Well, I always felt that after I have sex, male or female is irrelevant, that there was a price to pay. Sort of like taking the bad with the good even though the good was never really all that good. Never worth doing it again. Not even sex with the women I’ve been with. Including Kacey. But Ann Marie was a big deal sexually. I was attracted to her and really enjoyed sex with her. She was a far cry from all the others.

What if I do end up in jail on the 15th? Maybe if I never had sex, I wouldn’t have gone to jail and Northampton would’ve gone along with Greenfield’s disposition. But cuz I did have sex, maybe jail’s gonna be my payback. If I were to end up in jail and miraculously get out alive, I’d never be the same. I’ll probably get beat up so bad that I’d wish they’d killed me. As if they’ll care that I may get a death sentence for prank phone calls? If the judge says jail, he’s letting me walk into a death trap. Will they isolate me from the other prisoners? Will I be protected? Will they give me my meds?

THURSDAY, JANUARY 9, 1992 I’m on the phone now with Fran. He’s calling people he knows so they can hear the tape of Rick and Nervous.

I have to clean my place as well as go out for some groceries as soon as the stores open. I have to polish my nails and finish my letter-writing, Andy’s bracelet and do some editing. I also should try to finish the drawing of the kids on their swings so I can send it to Lisa for her birthday. She’s gonna be 9 on January 20th.

Once again I’m swapping my schedule around. I hope to stay up until early afternoon if possible. Around 8:00 this morning, I’m gonna take a walk to Sugar Loaf Market to pick up some cat food along with stuff for myself. I’ll call in my Theodur refill and Kim says she’ll pick it up. She’s going to Florida Fri. and won’t be back till the 23rd. If she doesn’t pick me up my refill, I’ll run out while she’s gone.

Tony’s gonna take me to court and I’m gonna take a taxi back. It’s gonna cost $25 but maybe I can get Tracy to take me home.

Later…

In about an hour, I’m gonna take off for the store.

Fran called earlier as I mentioned and I’ve had several talks with Bob. His car is still not fixed.

Jessie called me a few nights ago and I guess she has gone to New York. Her father was gonna be on the set for 4 more days, then go on vacation to his other place in Hawaii. Jessie hasn’t been to the set since she was pregnant and her father was paying for her and her sister to stay in a hotel. It’s right in Times Square and they also got shopping money and all their expenses were paid for. Their food and gas and stuff like that. Jessie had told me she’d call me in case Melissa decided not to go. I guess she went. Bummer. Jessie better call me when she gets back about coming up before school starts again.

Andy never called last night but we did speak the night before last. I played him some edits from about a week or so ago.

Right after I got my phone back, Fran called Nervous. Boy, did they go off on each other. It was great, though, as it’s been so long. I edited them chewing each other out as well as Andy and I. Also some girl Fran knows who talks so funny. She sounds like she’s drunk but she really has CP. Poor thing, but she’s funny as all hell anyway.

Later…

After I smoked a cigarette, I went down to Sugar Loaf Market. I got $20 worth of food. When I got back I fed Shadow and had a bite to eat. Also, I called in my refill and verified my new SSI and SS checks amount with Kathy at my bank. I get a total of $556.39 now between the two checks.

I’m so sick of this fucking waterbed. It’s a major pain in the ass. Lovemaking, or sex, I should say, would be a heck of a lot easier on a regular bed. You know, firmer ground for better balance for those who already have good balance and are flexible. Being sure-footed and flexible doesn’t really help much.

I threw in a small load of laundry and I also called Bob and played him the new 20-minute edition of edits.

As for Ann Marie, well, there really isn’t much more to say. She’s attractive, great in bed, and a nice person. She’s open, honest and understanding, but I told her up front that I don’t want a relationship. All she wants is sex, too. She did say that even though she’s never met an equal, but if she were to, she may stay with the person. Only if it were right, she said, otherwise she’d be bored quickly. That sounds logical. She says she’s had 4 relationships and a million one-nighters. The one-nighters, she explained, were due to the fact that it was one-sided. Either she was the one into it and they weren’t or vice versa. I told her I could relate to that. I told her never to expect to change me and that I was gonna be myself. If she didn’t like myself, I told her my door is always open for her to leave and find someone else to fool around with. I’m really proud of myself for not telling her anything personal. I learned sex really complicates the emotional part. That’s why your friends and family are the ones you talk to and get your love from. And you keep sex purely sexual with nothing emotional tied in. At least I do cuz the two don’t mix. If Ann Marie never were to come back then I’d have no hard feelings. If she were to come around every now and then, that’s cool, too. She called two nights ago and we had a good talk but there were a few things she said that bugged me.

MONDAY, JANUARY 6, 1992 As everyone who knows me well enough knows, there are two things I’ve been wanting bad. One is to be a singer. Two is to meet another gay woman who’s just as feminine as I am and that I’m attracted to. Also, to have it be mutual and get into bed with this woman. Well, one has happened! Yes, it has actually happened. Up till last Saturday night at 9:30, January 4th, I was still sure I was a fluke of nature. I swore up and down, left and right I was the only gay woman on earth who looked 100% like a woman. Totally ultra-feminine.

Her full name is Ann Marie P and she’s 27 years old. Her height is 5’ 3” and she weighs 120 pounds. She looks less, though, and is solid as a rock. I mean what a body! She’s got an absolutely gorgeous figure. And I thought I was solid and that Kacey and Brenda had nice shapes! Well, Kacey did, but not like Ann Marie. Kacey wasn’t as solid either and Brenda and Lisa were too thin. Diane was fat and even ugly compared to Brenda and Lisa. She has a nice shade of green eyes and long dark curly hair which is styled just like Gloria’s. Her face looks nothing like Gloria’s but her style does. Gloria’s only an inch shorter, too. She wore an awesome pair of black tights, trimmed with lace on the ends and waist, and had a tiny matching tank top. Over that, she wore a tie-dye T-shirt that was white and blue and turns pink with heat. She had a nice brown leather snakeskin-like coat. Beautiful rings, earrings, and a gold chain around her wrists and neck. It didn’t look tacky at all. It looked nice. She’s Italian and has dark skin and a nice smooth complexion. With her long brown curly hair which is about to the middle of her back and her black tights and a tank top, she looks like Gloria from behind. What I mean is, if someone took her picture from behind and said it was Gloria, one would find it easy to believe. She’s madly in love with Gloria, too.

One thing I will say, though, is damn she’s good in bed! She knows her stuff. Talk about creative and adventurous. She’s the best. Didn’t participate, though. Meaning, she didn’t have me do anything to her and she never got off. She wouldn’t go down on me either.

She was here from 9:30 PM on January 4th to 7 PM January 5th and I will write more another time.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 3, 1992 Tammy saw the efficiency and said it was too small. I figured as much. Now I have to wait longer for a 1-bedroom. That could be anywhere from 1-8 months. There are now 4 vacancies which means I’m number 8 on the list rather than number 12.

I’m tired and feeling confused right now about people and life. I’m angry and a little upset. I’m extremely frustrated, though. God, am I sick of being contradicted and knowing a certain thing is a fact with living proof to back it up. People are gonna be people. Ignorant, stubborn and set in their beliefs. Oh well. I’m not about to try to prove myself anymore. Or defend myself or anyone else against something I know I should. Some people, no matter how obvious the facts are right in front of their faces, are gonna believe what they want. Especially if the truth hurts them that bad. I’ll write more about this later. Right now I just want to go listen to music. I’m just sick of people saying one thing, then another. I’m so fucking sick of it!!!!!!!

THURSDAY, JANUARY 2, 1992 I had a long sad boring talk with Bob who’s freaked out about Kim going away to Florida. She’s going to the same area that Bob’s second wife was murdered. Supposedly Bob and Dorothy were only married for 3 days when Dorothy’s sister became ill. When she went to the sister’s house, her brother-in-law came onto her. The guy shot Dorothy, her sister and himself too, I think.

Andy called and said that things were excellent now. His financial status has improved. Now he won’t be evicted. He also is very happy at this new Denny’s he’s at. He said thank God as just a month ago he literally wanted to drop dead. He’s quite happy now. I wish I could say the same, but at least I’m feeling better than before and told him all about the phone.

He told me Donna was taking care of this old man in Paradise Valley where Stevie Nicks lives. A rich guy and I guess this particular area is all fenced in and you got to go through security to get in. Sort of like where my parents live. Donna told him to go take a walk and he came up to this house where he heard someone singing live. Also, a real drummer or a drum machine. He said at first he wasn’t too sure if it was her but this woman was definitely recording something. He pulled a garbage can of hers into some bushes and pulled out an envelope with her name and address. He said he’s gonna keep it and write her a huge letter with some videos of him doing her in drag. So, she then continued to sing louder and clearer and he knew for sure it was her and this was her house. He said it was nighttime so he couldn’t see much but the house wasn’t too spectacular. He said it was only 1 floor but very long in length. He could see a gold record on the wall and two housekeepers. He never saw her and she never came up to the front part of the house. One housekeeper was vacuuming and another came out of a room with a baby. He walked up to her door but had no intention of knocking on it. He said there were security signs all over and that he respected her privacy but he was outside her house for two hours. He said the kitchen and dining room area were all lit up. At one point he heard what he thought was a plate drop and he first thought - run! But then he told himself it was dark, no one could see him, just quietly walk away and he did.

That’s pretty darn cool. I’d love to see Gloria’s house. Then see it on the inside. Then meet her. Then have the grandest time in bed with her!

Oh well. It’s always fun to dream. Especially when dreaming’s all you can really do.

Later…

I got up too late today but when I did there were 4 messages.

Two from Andy singing. He had called at around 7:30 AM my time. I fell asleep at around 6:30 this morning.

The third message was from Tammy telling me the Norwich Housing Authority called. They have a studio available now, and as soon as a 1-bedroom is open across the street, I can move in. She called back at 5:30 as she said she would, saying she’s gonna take a look at it tomorrow as we’re not so sure I can fit in. I have a lot of stuff as well as furniture. She’ll let me know more about it soon, she said.

The fourth message was from Ann Marie, the girl claiming to be feminine from the Advocate. I did a third-party billing deal to let her know she’s got to call me due to my blocks.

We’ll see, but her voice sounds like she may be just a wee bit too serious for me. I also hope she’s as feminine as she claims to be and isn’t career-oriented. People on disability or stupid little jobs never mix. She lives in Enfield, but depending on how much she wants sex, we’ll see if she calls back to come here. Hopefully, she at least has a car.

I hope I don’t get put on the spot and she asks me what I’m looking for. Then, if I say I’m looking for sex, she may tell me she’s looking for more than that and want to forget it altogether. I’ll try to get it out of her first but I know that no matter what she looks like, I’ll feel no real attraction. No real thing. No spark. She’ll either be repulsively ugly or another Brenda. God, I hope not another Brenda! All I need is to go through that again and meet another girl like Brenda. At least she won’t live right next door. I like the idea of the person not living in town.

Kim and I had some good talks yesterday and today. Later tonight she’s gonna come over to hear the heated conversation between Fran and Nervous.

I just tried to call Bob to play with his head, but his line was busy. He’s probably playing with Kim’s head. This guy’s as fucked up as you can get. Kim told me that I’m totally sane compared to him. That, I can confidently agree with.

I tried calling Sheila to reschedule our January 8th appointment, however, she was in juvenile court. I’ll call her tomorrow. I still haven’t heard from Tracy, but I think Tony’s gonna drive me to court. I’ll taxi my way home.

Food shopping can be worked out by either Tony or Mark. Mark’s not going to Florida with Kim.

I called Cassandra two nights ago and she was happy and relieved to hear from me. Saturday at 2:00 is when we’ll meet.

Andy’s gonna be calling me late tonight. That’s great, but I’ve got to watch my schedule.

Since I may very well be paroled out of this cage soon, I’ve got to start to round up as many boxes as I can.

Tammy told me she gave Mom and Dad my new number, but I have yet to hear from them. I hope she kept her mouth shut about the phone bill. I told them to keep it between us and to tell the whole world other than Mom and Dad. Mom’s hard enough to talk to over the phone and they cannot deal with shit like that. Therefore, so as not to make it any more difficult than it already is most of the time we talk, I told her not to mention it. She only half-bullshitted me about Andy’s phone. Andy said it almost got disconnected.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 1, 1992 Age 26

The first 10 minutes of 1992 flashed some unpleasant thoughts through my mind.

What have I accomplished?

Nothing.

Where is my life going?

Nowhere.

Why do I feel as if I’ve accomplished so much but am getting nowhere in life? Silly question, huh? I still don’t know that I want to live a life of nothing or second best. Should anyone try to pretend and make themselves settle into a life they’re not happy with? If you knew for sure all the things you really want and that matter to you will never come true? If you knew you’d live your life either miserable or in between. Never really happy. Never any kind of life, fun, adventure or excitement. Just a nothing nobody on disability who knew what she wanted but couldn’t have it. Just a girl who’d like a little lust here and there and nothing more as she has self-respect, enjoys her space, can’t tolerate head games, lies and geeks. But all I get are offers from people I’m not attracted to. God just can’t allow me a person who I’m turned on by for one lousy night. A decent person and say, “ok, I’ll send her someone fairly decent that she wouldn’t be good enough for on a regular basis. All she wants is sex and that way that “decent” person won’t have to put up with her and she can have her space without this decent person trying to change her and condemn her.” Yeah, right. But I should be allowed at least some lust rather than be sent all the uglies or so-so people that are keeping me celibate. I need some fun, too.

Boy, am I mad at myself upon reviewing all the dumb things I did during 1991. The phone calls, the phone bills, losing my tapes, moving here and reality slapping me in the face.

Fucking Kim couldn’t have offered to do something with me seeing that Mark’s at work.

I have lost so much both material and non-material-wise.

My New Year’s resolution is a deal with God or whatever the fuck’s up there. I still can’t bring myself to settle happily and willingly. This was gonna be my “settlement” year. Doing all the stuff I don’t want to do and letting go of my dreams and having good sex. Instead, God will either grant me my wishes by sending me an attractive person as well as help me get my foot in the door (appropriately) with my music. Then I’ll work my ass off from there. If none of the above starts happening for me this year, I exit this boring life. As if God’s gonna answer my prayers for once and for all?

I am so pissed off at Kim and my parents never called. Has Tammy given them my new number yet?

Fran called at around 11:20. Some girl showed up at his place and he said he’d call me later or during the week.

I know I’m cursed. I know for sure. Forget about why though as I’ll probably never know why. What do I do to get rid of it? Goddamn, do I hate this life! Being sure in my mind of the things I want and knowing I’ll never achieve things. I’d never know where the fuck to begin. What an ass for believing I’d get connections somehow just cuz I could sing. This idiot thought that two years from now (1994) she’d have her foot in the door. Man, do I feel like a complete jackass!

Can’t I have just a little more than a nice place to live and some decent clothes? Material things are great. It doesn’t replace being a singer and sex, though. I’m only human and I can’t help the way I feel. I have a right to my feelings and if God’s determined to make me settle, he’d better miraculously change those feelings of mine or else I’m gone before 1993. I mean it too, as I have hung on long enough to see that nothing will ever change

Later…

I am listening to the tape that was made earlier with Fran and Nervous. It’s pretty funny.

Fran at the CC and I spoke for a little while.

Again Fran insisted that Nervous lives in a “complex.” Since he has no phone, Fran couldn’t insist the phone company was in his building ready to snatch his phone. Rather than that story, he insisted that Carabetta was buying out his building. I love Nervous’s line to Fran at one part of the tape. He says, “There’s gonna be a dead P.” Also, I was reminding Nervous about his wonderful cooking. He was cooking bacon for me when I lived on Oswego St. When he got through with it, it looked like cigarette ashes.

Later…

Not much has been happening. Still the same old boring shit. Andy hasn’t called, but I called Jessie. She’s been trying to call me but didn’t know the machine wasn’t here for a while. She then tried after that but got the recording saying the phone’s disconnected. She was eating dinner and says she’ll call me back. Kim, naturally, isn’t home. I haven’t heard from Mom and Dad either so maybe Fran will call later.

I think I hear Kim home now. It cracked me up how she feels so guilty, she tells me, and how she should’ve known better as far as her busy schedule’s concerned. Not only am I angry with her and feeling very let down and led on, but I’m also angry with myself. As much as I love this place and wanted badly to get out of Crack Alley, I should’ve known better. Never fall for anything someone tells you, you’ll only end up trapped.

0 notes

nemesyaaa · 1 month ago

Text

this is me currently LMFAOOOO, i'm gonna crash out because wtfff nads ??? do you think it's okay to play with reader's feeling like that ?? LIKE FROM TUE BEGINNING, I KNEW IT WOULD INCLUDE A SCENE LIKE THAT BUT NOW NOW ??? I'M CRYING. THE ROLLERCOSTER. YOU CAN'T LEAVE US WITH “ “This just… it sucks,” Zach mumbles.”. NO, I FUCKING CAN'T DO THIS 😭😭😭 but out of this, i truly adore this story, i'm stuck with the plotline, the relationship between zach and reader, the camp atmosphere, this is just so good and well-written. you always do such a fantastic job, and i'm falling in love even more with zach. i need him so badly

“Then you should be more careful about where you let bugs bite you,” she laughs. — IM SORRY BUT THE FACT IN REAL LIFE, I'M ACTUALY BEING BITE SO MUCH BECAUSE OF THEM IT'S CRAZY

“He’s the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. I don’t want him to get in trouble,” you reply. “We decided today that we’ll keep things on hold. For real this time.” — LIKE I TOLD YOU YESTERDAY. MY FAVORITE <33 THE SWEETEST EVER

“He said when you’re around, Zach smiles way more than usual,” she recalls, “which is already a lot to begin with, apparently.” — ZACH SMILE 🥺 EVEN HIS LINES ARE SO....BOYFRIEND.

Your heart flutters. Zach is already such a cheerful person, so to think you make him even happier, and very obviously at that, is flattering. — CAN'R SAY IT BETTER

“He was randomly talking about Zach the other day,” Ami continues, “and he said that he treats every girlfriend like he’s gonna marry her. I guess he’s a hopeless romantic, so I hope you’re prepared for that.”— I WANT A WEDDING SCENE WHEN WE'RE GONNA BE MARRIED WITH HIM 🙂🙂

You chuckle, wholeheartedly believing it. Zach is sweet and sensitive and while you didn’t doubt his sincerity for a second, hearing that he’s not one for flings is a relief. Because you want so much more with him. — THIS IS WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT WHEN I SAY I'M IN LOVE WITJ HIM. HE'S SO GENTLE, CHARMING AND CARING, AND KIND AND SWEET, AND JUST PERFECT. I NEED HIM (GONNA REWATCH THE OTHER ZOEY AFTER THIS..')

When he stands to collect the ore, he quickly lifts the bottom of his shirt up to wipe his forehead, giving you a glimpse of his chiseled body. You’re glad you’re wearing shades because you can’t take your eyes off of him. — LMFAOOO DO YOU GET DEJA VU ??? 😇😇😇😇😇😇😇

Your stomach goes wild with butterflies when Zach makes his way towards you, offering you a charming grin as he pushes his sunglasses up to rest on his head. — WHAT A SEXY MOVE, BABYBOY

“You remember when you told me I can’t look at you a certain way when we’re at work?” you say, pushing the lid of the cooler shut. — 👀‼️

“Come on, baby, it’s my fault it’s hot out?” he murmurs. [....] “Everything’s your fault,” you say. — THEM. JUST THEM.

He’ll take you out on dates. He’ll hold your hand in public. And hopefully, you’ll still like him enough that he can introduce you to his family and officially be your boyfriend. — THE LOML. THE TRUE LOML.

“We’re bad at this,” you whisper when your lips part. “We’re bad at staying away from each other.” “I’m okay with that,” Zach rasps, pulling you in tight, his body curving into yours. — LMFAOOO I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

“If I’m going to be your boyfriend, I need to know when you’re not feeling well,” Zach says. — REAL LINE OF TJE LOVE OF MY LIFE ACTUALLY

“Fuck,” he says again, groaning through the word this time. He can’t wait any longer, lowering to press his lips against you. Your body rolls with pleasure when he makes contact, his lips warm and wet and soft, puckering against you. — I'M UNWELL.

cant believe we're already at part6 😳😳😳wow !!!?

out of bounds (part six)

pairing zach maclaren and soccerplayer! female reader

rating mature 18+ for smut

summary zach has never been the type to rebel, but when he meets you at a soccer camp where you’re both working as counselors, which has a strict policy against dating between staff, he’s tempted to break the rules for the first time.

» part one | two | three | four | five

» masterlist

Every made-up explanation you can think of won’t cut it. Nothing you say will be believable. You’ve been found out.

“They’re bug bites?” you say weakly, pulling up your shirt so the hickeys aren’t in clear view anymore. Ami laughs, shaking her head.

“I knew you and Zach were a thing,” she says. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I wouldn’t judge. You know that I’m breaking the rules, too.”

You sigh, dropping back into your bed.

“We really don’t want it getting around,” you say.

“Then you should be more careful about where you let bugs bite you,” she laughs.

“Ami,” you groan, half-chuckling. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t. You can trust me,” she says. “When did this start?”

You sit back up and give her surface details, recapping when you two kissed by the lake, then tried and failed to wait until after the season to pursue anything.

“Have you guys…” she asks with raised brows. Your cheeks burn.

“Last night,” you admit. Your stomach goes numb at the memory. “But seriously, you can’t mention it to anyone. If people find out and he gets fired, it’d crush him.”

The amusement in Ami’s eyes fades, replaced with compassion.

“Wow. You’re really worried, huh?” she says.

“He’s the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. I don’t want him to get in trouble,” you reply. “We decided today that we’ll keep things on hold. For real this time.”

“Can you keep it on hold?” she asks. “I don’t know about you, but it being forbidden makes it ten times hotter.”

You shrug. You’re unsure if you’d be doing this much this fast with Zach if you met outside of work, and he did tell you last night that he never moves this quickly with a girl.

“I’m going to have to try,” you say. Zach’s hard to resist, but for his sake, you don’t want to give in.

“Fair,” Ami sighs. “I knew it, though. Malcolm called me crazy.”

“You talked about it with him?”

“Yeah, the night you went shopping,” she says. “I said that I think there’s something there and Malcolm was like, I can tell he likes her, but there’s no way he’d break the rules. I wish I could rub it in his face.”

You shoot her a look.

“But I won’t,” she promises. You nod gratefully.

“He can tell he likes me?” you ask.

“He said when you’re around, Zach smiles way more than usual,” she recalls, “which is already a lot to begin with, apparently.”

Your heart flutters. Zach is already such a cheerful person, so to think you make him even happier, and very obviously at that, is flattering.

“I guess Malcolm would know since they’ve been best friends for so long,” you say.

“Yeah,” Ami agrees. “He actually…”

She chuckles.

“What?”

“Good to know,” you reply. “And you and Malcolm are still keeping things casual or…?”

“I don’t know,” she says with a hopeful smile. “But if it gets more serious, I wouldn’t be mad about it or anything.”

You laugh together and finally, you allow yourself to gush about the man who’s thrown you for such an unexpected loop. It feels nice to not have to keep it in anymore.

You’re relieved when Saturday rolls around. Even though fun days at camp are just as busy, you welcome a break from running training drills.

After breakfast in the dining hall, Ruby announces to the campers to prepare for a morning of hiking, an afternoon of swimming, and a camp-wide relay race before dinner.

The sky is cloudy, but the chance of rain is low, so you stay optimistic that you won’t be forced to spend the day inside.

You quickly realize it’s not going to be as easy to keep your distance from Zach today, because you’re put in a hiking group with him.

As you set out on the trail with your cohorts of campers, their chatter loud over the sounds of shoes crunching over the dirt and birds chirping in the sky, Zach leads the crowd under towering trees that line the perimeter of the campground.

It’s only been a couple of days since you spoke with him about cooling things down, but not talking how you used to has been disheartening. Neither of you have been scheming to find ways to be alone like you used to, settling for friendly conversations whenever your paths cross.

“We’ll get a pretty cool view at the midpoint,” Zach says loudly to the campers, turning back. He meets your eyes for a second, a small smile flashing on his face, before he looks ahead again.

You wonder if he took your words as you suggesting you two shouldn’t talk at all, when that’s far from the truth.

You make conversation with your campers while you hike, and when you reach the height of a steep trail, you approach Zach as he looks out at the view of lush forestland.

“Hi,” you say quietly. His eyebrows raise when he sees you, like he’s surprised you’re speaking to him. It’s your first moment out of earshot from others in too long.

“Hey,” he says.

“You know, I didn’t mean we can’t talk at all,” you say with a soft laugh.

The pang of rejection has been burrowed in Zach’s chest since your last private conversation. He’s hardly ever one for overthinking, but since you came into his life, all he does is mull over everything you do and say to him, anxious that you don’t like him as much as he likes you.

But now, as he gets lost in the softness in your gaze, he realizes what an idiot he is for worrying that you don’t also think that what you have is special.

And although he wants you to say he wants to hear that you’ll keep trying to hide your relationship, he needs to remind himself that you’re just being careful. He shoves down the prickly feeling and smiles at you.

“I thought I wasn’t even allowed to look at you,” he jokes to dismiss his uneasiness.

“Stop,” you chuckle. “How’ve you been?”

Zach’s blue eyes dart over his shoulder, his lips flattening.

“I miss you,” he half-whispers.

You tilt your head as you gaze up at him, your lips in an endeared frown. You’ve gotten used to there always being a sense of a playful smirk on his face, a look of mischief in his eyes, but right now, he’s completely doleful.

“I miss you, too,” you say. “Forcing each other into the friend-zone sucks.”

Zach laughs, his heart warming.

“No kidding,” he says. At this point, he just needs to get through a few more weeks as just your friend. It feels like forever, but he’ll get through it.

After lunch, counselors work together to set up for an afternoon by the lake, handing campers life jackets and inflating water toys.

After set-up, you stand on the dock, shades shielding your eyes now that the sun has peeked out from behind fluffy clouds.

You look out at the beautiful water, surrounded by campers talking and laughing, feeling that calming sense of being where you’re meant to be. Even though the days are tiring and the kids can be difficult, you’re so glad you came here.

You hear Zach’s familiar voice as he chats and walks past you, followed by two boys. He leans down to grip the edge of the empty canoe bobbing in the water on the dockside, gently reminding them to enter the boat slowly.

You can tell he’s been running around tirelessly, his lips parted as he pants, sweat sheening his skin.

You clasp your hands together, your body rushing with heat as you remember what happened a few nights ago. How taut his body looked when you were on top of him. The way he breathed and moaned when you slowly sank onto him.

You force yourself to look away. Seeing him like that and knowing you can’t have him is only making things harder.

A couple of hours later, the relay race is underway on the north soccer field. You’re standing at the touchline on your own, stationed to hand out water and snacks to any campers or staff who need it.

Your stomach goes wild with butterflies when Zach makes his way towards you, offering you a charming grin as he pushes his sunglasses up to rest on his head.

“No way,” he says when he approaches, squinting, his voice low. “You got the easy job.“

“Rude. It’s actually way harder than it looks,” you reply.

“Standing there looking pretty is hard?”

“Very,” you say, his compliment making you a little lightheaded. You mirror him, perching your sunglasses up.

“I don’t believe it.”

Zach opens the cooler, not giving you a chance to get a drink for him. He collects a water bottle and unscrews the cap.

“You remember when you told me I can’t look at you a certain way when we’re at work?” you say, pushing the lid of the cooler shut.

He smirks, tipping his head back as he gulps down water. You’re gazing at him like that now, your stare hard on him. It’s addictive being on the receiving end of that look. It makes him feel like he’s floating.

“Yeah, and it still stands,” he nods. “So, stop it.”

“I’m not even…” you scoff, crossing your arms. “I have a rule for you, too. You can’t lift up your shirt when I’m around.”

“What? When did I do that?”

“By the lake. And I don’t appreciate it.”

“Why not?” he chuckles.

“Just stop,” you flirt with a roll of your eyes.

“I need a reason.” By the smug smirk on his face, you can tell he already knows. Because he’s so cute, you give in.

“It’s hard not to stare,” you say. “And we’re not supposed to stare at each other.”

The flattered look you’ve quickly grown to love flashes on his face.

“Oh, you mean when I get hot?” he teases. “I can’t control the sun.”

“Zach,” you warn. He says your name with the same teasing tone.

“I’m serious,” you say.

“So am I,” he laughs.

You shake your head at him when he lifts up the bottom of his shirt to wipe the water off his lips. His eyes stay locked on your expression as yours drift down the cut of his abs.

Zach’s entire body buzzes when you look at him like that. He so deeply loves feeling wanted by you.

“You just don’t listen,” you mumble, taking your eyes off of him. He chuckles, letting his shirt fall back down.

“Come on, baby, it’s my fault it’s hot out?” he murmurs.

You can’t stifle your grin. Maybe he technically shouldn’t call you that if you’re pretending to be friends, but nobody can hear, and you love when he’s sweet like that.

“Everything’s your fault,” you say.

Zach winks at you before he turns to rush back to the game. It’s the type of silly banter that made you develop a crush on him so fast, and you’re glad you can at least flirt if you’re not going to sneak around anymore.

After the relay race, Tom reminds the campers that in a week and a half, you’ll be hitting the midpoint of the camp season, and as tradition goes, a staff soccer game will be held.

Even though it’s just a no-stakes match at camp to give the kids a fun chance to cheer on their counselors, you feel nerves twist in your stomach at the reminder.

Despite the fact that your love for soccer has slowly been finding its way back to you, your confidence still isn’t quite where you want it. And your instinct is to talk to Zach about it, to be comforted by the one person you’re trying to stay away from.

As you settle at your table for dinner that evening, you look for him in the crowd. He’s sitting at the head of his usual table, laughing in conversation. When he meets your eyes, you give him a smile. He returns it.

That evening after lights out, you’re lying in bed scrolling on your phone while Ami watches something on her laptop when you realize the nagging desire to see Zach is only getting harder to ignore.

You’ve also been considering telling him that your cabin-mate knows about him. It may just serve to worry him, but it feels wrong keeping something from him.

The way he looked on the hike when he said he missed you is stuck in your head. You miss him, too. As if you haven’t seen him in weeks.

It feels silly to keep your distance. You’re being too careful. You’re sure you can manage to hang out and keep your hands off of each other.

You hung out platonically before. Why can’t you do it again? There’s no rules against that. In fact, being friends is encouraged. You open your text conversation with Zach.

When Zach steps out of his cabin into the brisk air that night, he looks up at the sky to see he can hardly spot any stars. The air is thick with the threat of rain, but it’s stubborn, refusing to fall.

He heads out to the dock, sitting on the cool surface, his phone in his hand. Malcolm already fell asleep, so he decided to take his call outside to not wake him.

It’s never easy for him to be away from his family for very long. He appreciates checking in every so often, making sure his parents are doing okay, hearing how his sister’s summer is going.

As he catches up with them during the video call, at one point, his dad asks his mom where his glasses are and when she points off screen and his dad thanks her with a kiss to her temple, the simple, passing moment is a reminder to Zach of how loving his parents’ marriage is.

He grew up knowing that his mom and dad adore each other, that they believe they’re meant to be together. It’s fun to act grossed out by their affection, but in reality, he admires them. He’s never wanted to settle for less in a relationship.

Zach has always desired to be surrounded by love and approval. He’s sure his heart will never fully heal after his childhood, but when he knows he’s around people who like him, that wound feels much smaller.

And the way you accept him for everything that he is, never once looking at him with judgement, unconditionally offering compassion, gives him a sense of being complete, of that wound actually being gone. He hasn’t ever felt that before.

He looks out at the dark water, breathing slowly. He’s always thought of himself as an optimistic person, so it’s uncomfortable to be wallowing over his circumstances with you this much.

He forces himself to see the bright side. He may be facing weeks of not being able to be with you the way he wants to, but when the camp season wraps up and he goes back to his normal life, you won’t be living under any of these rules.

He’ll take you out on dates. He’ll hold your hand in public. And hopefully, you’ll still like him enough that he can introduce you to his family and officially be your boyfriend.

At that moment, his phone buzzes with a text. It’s you. havent worked on my defense in a while... do you have time to help a friend practice?

He grins, feeling the tension in his body dissipate.

You agree to meet on the field farthest from the staff cabins, positioned at the far edge of the campground. When you approach the pitch, Zach’s practicing kick-ups by the net under the bright moon.

“Show-off,” you say once you’re close enough. He looks up to see you, letting the ball roll away. His smile fades once he sees your bare arms under your t-shirt.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asks.

“No.” His concern remains etched on his face, quickly unzipping his hoodie and stepping closer.

“I’m fine,” you laugh, unsuccessfully protesting as he drapes his hoodie over your shoulders.

“Now you are,” he says, looking down at you with a relieved smile. He leans down to leave a chaste kiss on your cheek, then quickly pulls back.

“Sorry,” he says. “Not allowed.”

You chuckle, looking around into the silent darkness surrounding you.

“I think we can get away with it here,” you tell him. “But I figured if anyone sees us, we’re just two coworkers innocently practicing for the game.”

“I ever tell you you’re a genius?” he asks, cocking his head, his eyes trailing down your face.

“Don’t think so,” you reply.

“Well, you are,” he says.

“Thanks, baby.”

“Okay, you can’t call me that and not expect to be kissed,” he murmurs, cupping your jaw with his cool palm. He leans down to kiss you, slow, his lips just barely parting.

“We still have to be careful,” you sigh amusedly when he pulls away. “Let’s practice.“

“Right,” he says. “As friends.”

“As friends.”

Zach smirks, rushing to get the ball as you stand in front of the net, stretching to warm up your legs.

“How was your day?” he asks once he stands a few feet across from you, gently kicking the ball to you. “Barely broke a sweat, huh?”

You trap the ball below your foot with a gasp.

“What’s that mean?”

“You’re still gonna pretend standing next to a cooler is hard?” he asks.

You laugh and kick the ball with unexpected force, watching him dramatically dodge it as it whirls past him.

“Whoa, you mad or something?” he laughs.

“I don’t need your attitude or your hoodie,” you tease, pulling the sleeves off.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he relents, laughing harder. “Please put it back on.”

You roll your eyes and comply, loving how soft his sweater feels on your skin, loving how much it smells like him.

“Just go get the ball,” you say in resignation, a smile pulling at your lips.

“Yes, ma’am,” Zach replies.

You watch him jog towards the center line, expertly dribbling the ball when he reaches it. He comes forward and stops a few feet away from you.

“Hey, I have something to tell you,” you say. The guilt weighs even heavier on you when you see the worry in his gaze.

“What?”

“Ami knows about us,” you confess. “She saw my hickeys the other day and I couldn’t think of a lie fast enough. She promised she wouldn’t tell anyone. I’m sorry.”

His heart aches when he hears the distress in your voice.

“You’re sorry?” he says. “I’m the one who left them.”

You breathe out a chuckle, tugging at the sleeves of his sweater over your knuckles.

“You can be upset with me,” you mumble. “I know you didn’t want anyone knowing.”

“I’m not upset,” he replies. “It’s okay.”

“Really?” you ask.

Truthfully, hearing that someone else knows about you two makes him tense. It increases the risk of being found out, of disappointing his family, of ruining his reputation. But he can’t bear to make you feel any worse.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it,” Zach says, keen to push past the topic. He kicks the ball to you. “So, your day?”

“It was good,” you say. “The hike was nice. But thinking about the staff game made me nervous. I guess I’m still not all that confident yet.”

“And you came to the best for help,” he says. You kick the ball back, laughing softly.

“I did.”

“You’ll get into your stride again,” Zach tells you. “I wasn’t just trying to flatter you the first night. You’re a really good defender. Honest.”

“Thank you,” you say, stopping the ball when he kicks it to you again. This is exactly why you wanted to come to him. He consoles you so effortlessly, already making the nerves unravel. “How was your day?”

“Good,” he says. “I actually just got off the phone with my family when you texted.”

“How are they?”

“Falling apart without me,” he answers sarcastically. “My sister was saying my dad doesn’t do monster checks right.”

“I’m sorry, what’s a monster check?” you laugh.

“A check for monsters, obviously,” he replies. “I’m usually the one that scouts out Avery’s room before bed, but since I’m not home, my dad’s in charge. And his heart’s just not in it.”

“That is not something to slack on,” you play along.

“Right?” he says. “I couldn’t live with myself knowing a monster might’ve flown under the radar.”

You laugh again, touched by how sweet of a big brother he is. You kick the ball to him and start training together.

It’s been just under ten minutes of practice when you feel a cool raindrop on your cheek. Zach’s towering over you, your legs brushing as he tries to gain possession of the ball, when you freeze and look up.

“I just felt rain,” you say, gently panting. He takes the opportunity to gaze at you as you stare up at the night sky, the moonlight washing your pretty face in its glow.

You lower your gaze to meet his eyes, revelling in the feeling of him looking at you like that, like you’re the only girl that exists. It reminds you of the way he stared at you when you met, needing you to repeat yourself because he was too out of it to pay attention to your words.

“Zach,” you giggle. “It’s raining. We should go.”

In that moment, he feels a raindrop on his head.

“Oh. Yeah,” he says. He bends to pick up the soccer ball, dreading how long the walk back to the staff cabins is.

You rush off the field, letting him grab your hand, enveloped in the darkness of the night. Drops of rain start to hammer down within seconds, cold moisture covering your clothes.

“Shit,” Zach chuckles, running faster, pulling you forward. “We won’t make it.”

You’re both laughing breathlessly when you run into the closest storage shed, shutting the door behind you, clothes sticking to you.

When Zach stumbles over something in the dark with a grunt, you laugh even harder, asking him if he’s okay between your cackles.

“I could have broken something,” he says, pretending he’s insulted, “and you’re laughing.”

You feel for him in the dark, cupping his bare forearms as he stumbles over the disorganized supplies scattered on the floor.

“Are you okay?” you repeat, facing him, trying to make out his features in the dark.

“Why don’t people ever clean up?” Zach complains. “It’s a safety hazard.”

“For the third time, are you okay?” you say amusedly. Your hands feel up his arms, cupping his face as the rain loudly drums on the roof.

“Yes,” he finally murmurs. He wishes it wasn’t so dark so that he could see you, but if he turned on the light, it’d be too easy for someone to notice.

“Good,” you whisper. You gently stroke his cheeks with your thumbs, feeling a bit of stubble over his jaw, his skin cool from the night air as he leans into your touch.

“That feels nice.” His voice is low and rough beneath the sound of pouring rain. You smile to yourself, adjusting to the dark, seeing that he shut his eyes.

“Then I’ll keep doing it,” you respond.

“You looked good out there,” he murmurs. “I mean, you’re skilled. You don’t have anything to worry about. You’re a solid soccer player.”

“So, to clarify, my playing looked good, but I didn’t?”

Zach lets out a tsk, finding your waist.

“Cut it out,” he scoffs. “You know how pretty you are.”

“I do?”

“Come on,” he mumbles. “Don’t even pretend to say bad things about yourself.”

“Or what?” you ask.

“I’ll cry. Is that what you want?”

You giggle, loving how easily he makes you laugh, feeling like you’ll be falling victim to your own impulses. And fast.

Cool down. You said you’d cool down. But there’s nothing cool about his lips pressing against yours when you pull him closer.

It’s only been a few days since you had a moment totally alone together, but when he kisses you with abandon, it’s like your body is getting its first drop of water after being parched.

As your kisses grow hungrier, Zach’s body melts into pure contentment. It’s perfect how you fit into each other, how his mind goes completely blank when he holds you, letting him ease into the bliss of your touch.

Your lips brush and your tongues graze and your breaths catch as you kiss, his grip on your waist tightening as your palms press on his cheeks.

“We’re bad at this,” you whisper when your lips part. “We’re bad at staying away from each other.”

“I’m okay with that,” Zach rasps, pulling you in tight, his body curving into yours.

You’re in a fog as you continue to make out, surrounded by him, listening to your shallow breaths and the heavy rain.

Your knees are weak by the time you pull away from each other, the roar of rain now reduced to calm droplets.

“What now?” Zach breathes. He needs to know if he’s going to go through the agony of not sneaking around with you anymore.

Every inch of his skin tingles with warmth. He wishes he could just lie down with you, not because he needs anything sexual, but because he hates the thought of saying goodnight and parting ways.

“I don’t know,” you reply. “I don’t like not kissing you. But I don’t like getting fired, either.”

Despite himself, he smirks, dipping his head to pull you into a hug and bury his face in the crook of your neck. You drape your arms around his broad shoulders, shutting your eyes as he squeezes you.

Zach breathes you in, feeling safer than he ever has in his life.

“I’m really glad you texted me,” he mumbles.

“Me, too,” you say.

When you sneak back into your cabin, still wearing his sweater, the fear you felt of getting caught the whole walk over reminds you of why you suggested you cool things down in the first place.

If you’re found out, it’s over. You’re still not sure what to do, if you should keep trying to stay away from him or just continue meeting in secret. But you do know that whatever you decide, Zach will respect it.

The next morning, you wake up with a sore throat. You realize you caught a mild cold from last night. And being sick in the middle of the summer while working an exhausting job is not ideal.

You barely make it through the day, then have an overnight shift in one of the campers’ cabins. By the next day, you’re a bit better, mainly dealing with muscle soreness.

After dinner, Zach notices the faraway look in your eyes as you sit across the fire and talk with campers. You were together just two nights ago, kissing and laughing, but you haven’t had a chance to speak privately since. And something seems wrong.

He discreetly pulls out his phone to text you: Are you ok?

You feel the buzz in your pocket and when you read his text, you meet his eyes, melting at the concern in his gaze. In an effort to ease his worry, you speak a little louder to the kids around you.

“Nobody caught my cold, right?” you ask. They shake their heads no.

“You’re sick?” Zach asks from the other side of the pit, over the chatter.

“A little,” you reply, your nose scrunching. “But the worst of it is over.”

Zach’s heart aches, upset that you’re in pain and that he didn’t notice sooner. It’s from the night you got caught in the rain together. He’s sure of it.

When he knocks on your door after lights out, even though he’s still uneasy about your cabin-mate knowing about you two, at least he doesn’t have to worry about how to look like a concerned friend and nothing more.

You’re sitting in bed when Ami swings open the door. Zach is standing on your front step, cupping something in his hands, his eyes darting between her and you.

“Hey,” he says, looking at you. “Thought I’d drop off some tea.”

Ami looks back at you, a grin on her face.

“You brought her tea?” she says. “That’s so sweet.”

“It is sweet,” you say with a shy smile. “Thank you.”

“Come in,” Ami says, stepping back. “You can hang out. I was about to go see what Malcolm’s up to anyway.”

“Really?” you ask, not buying it.

“He’s on an overnight,” Zach says.

“Is he? That’s crazy,” she says with a coy smile. She looks at you. “Text me.”

You know what she means; you need to let her know when she can come back since you and Zach might be in doing more than just hanging out.

Ami pulls a sweater over her pajama top and rushes out, leaving you and Zach alone in the cabin.

“Where’d you get tea?” you ask once the door shuts.

“From the office,” he says, crossing the room and setting the mug on your nightstand. He settles on the edge of your bed, inches away from you, gazing at you worryingly.

“I can get more if you need it,” he says. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re sick?”

“It’s really not that bad,” you tell him. “It’s just a headache now.“

He purses his lips, reaching forward to put the back of his hand on your forehead.

“I don’t think I have a fever,” you laugh.

“No other symptoms?”

“Just a sore throat yesterday, but it passed.”

“From being in the rain the other night?”

“That, and the stress of being scared we’ll get caught,” you laugh. He knows you’re joking, but his chest twists in pain. “Should I have told you?“

The question sets him aback for a moment, uncertainty rushing through him. You’ve been acting like you want a relationship, too, but maybe he’s being unrealistically hopeful.

Even though he’s been afraid to come on too strong, he needs to know, so he speaks before he can talk himself out of it.

“If I’m going to be your boyfriend, I need to know when you’re not feeling well,” Zach says.

You gaze at him for a silent few seconds. He’s unbelievably grateful when you lean forward and press your forehead into his chest, hugging him as best you can while you sit across from each other.

“It was just a little cold,” you mumble. “But I bet it would’ve been worse if my boyfriend didn’t make me wear his sweater.”

He cracks a smile, relieved, loving the way it sounds coming from you.

“Which you stole, by the way,” he says, making you laugh. He kisses the top of your head, then leans over to hand you the mug, steam curling from the top.

“Thank you,” you say. “How are you?”

You talk to each other about your days, swapping stories as you lean against the wall, taking slow sips.

“I’m cured,” you say once you’re done, setting the empty mug on the nightstand.

“Can I get you anything else?” he asks.

“Hugs,” you say, feeling desperate for his touch.

Zach grins, standing to let you comfortably lie down before he settles next to you. Your cheek is on his shoulder as he holds you in his arms, and when he lifts your chin to guide you into a kiss, you shake your head.

“You’ll get sick,” you warn.

“What? You said I cured you.” He pecks your lips gently, then shifts to kiss your forehead. “Where’s it hurt? Here?”

“Mhm,” you mumble.

“I don’t think it’s the cold,” he says. “Your head hurts because you think about me too much.”

You giggle, your hand trailing up and down his firm stomach.

“Oh, that must be it,” you say.

“I think about you too much, too.”

“You do?” You close your eyes as he continues to plant gentle kisses on your forehead. “What do you think about?”

“I mostly wonder when the next time I can be with you is,” he murmurs, “and how it can’t come fast enough.”

You stroke his chest, stopping to feel his heartbeat over the fabric of his shirt.

“Me, too,” you say. You trail back down his stomach and up again, arousal twisting in your core the more you feel him.

He sighs quietly. It’s unreal how just a minute of your touch does this to him. He’s already hard.

When you gently tug at his hip so he’ll turn on his side to face you, you feel him stiffen once his erection presses against your stomach, letting out a heavy exhale.

“I swear I didn’t come over to do this,” Zach murmurs, worried you’ll think he’d try to come by under false pretences just to hook up.

“I believe you,” you whisper against his neck, kissing softly, breathing in his scent.

Zach kisses the top of your head, cradling your jaw, revelling in the feeling of your affection, sure you can feel him growing even harder against you.

“I don’t know if – I mean, are we back to seeing each other?”

You shuffle back to meet his eyes, sympathy in your gaze.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been confusing,” you say. “I know I told you we should cool down just to make out with you like, two days later.”

“I’m not complaining,” Zach says with a soft chuckle. Maybe someone else would be frustrated, but everything about this summer has been unpredictable and he’s always been quick to adapt.

“I can’t decide what to do. I feel like you,” you tease.

“Hurtful,” he jokes, squinting.

“Remind me of how much time we have left before the season ends,” you say sadly.

“A month and three days.”

“It’s cute that you know the exact number.” The compliment makes his cheeks flush pink.

“Yeah, I’m pretty cute,” he replies. You laugh, your fingers dipping beneath the hem of his t-shirt. He bites his lip when he feels your skin against his, eyelids low.

“You’re very cute,” you say. “And very kind for coming to check on me.”

His heart is racing. You’re looking at him in that way he said you can’t look at him at work. It gets him all flustered, making him feel like you want him as bad as he wants you.

“And so sweet and so handsome,” you continue, your hand sliding up his back under his shirt. “And so good for me.”

“Baby,” he sighs happily, the praise making his head swim. “You know what that does to me.”

“That’s why I’m doing it,” you breathe. “One more night? Then, we cool down, for real?”

“But your head hurts.”

You shrug, admittedly still feeling tension in your temples.

“You made it better,” you say. He shifts lower to kiss you, gently sucking on your bottom lip, breathing heavily.

His thoughts are rushing like a current, the desire to make you feel good, to relax you in the best possible way burning deep inside him.

When he pulls back a bit, his lips brush against yours when he asks, “Can I kiss lower? Make you feel even better?”

You catch the weight of his words, the coil in you tightening even more.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please.”

“You never have to say please to me,” Zach says. “Not for that.”

You groan when he lowers to kiss your neck, down to your collarbones, over the swells of your breasts. He’s on his knees as he pulls up your shirt, trailing kisses up your stomach as he hungrily pulls down your pants.

You lift your hips to help him push them off, left in your panties in seconds.

Zach settles on his elbows, his eyes meeting yours as he rests with his head between your bent legs. He doesn’t take your eyes off of you as he puckers his lips against your inner thigh.

“You want this?” he murmurs.

“Yes,” you sigh happily.

“Me, too,” he says. “So bad.”

He kisses harder, surely going to leave a mark. His big hand drags over your knee, down your other thigh, resting at your pelvis.

His gaze refuses to leave yours, his lips still on your skin, when he lowers his hand to stroke his thumb over your middle. You moan softly, blinking slowly.

Like every other time he touches you, it feels like a dream. He can’t believe he gets to do this. The anticipation of knowing he’ll be tasting you soon makes his skin tingle.

Zach is agonizingly slow with his kisses, planting them all up one thigh, then moving to the other, then dipping to kiss right above where you need him most, over your underwear.

You lace your fingers in his messy hair, not pushing or pulling, just feeling his head move with every kiss, trying to be patient.

Finally, he puts his mouth over your core, kissing over the fabric, pulling a shudder out of you.

He can feel how wet you are, earning a taste of you, and it makes him ache with need. He looks up at you again as he gently pulls at the band of your panties.

Once you kick them off, his lips part in awe when you readjust to slightly spread your legs.

“Fuck,” he breathes. It’s almost nerve-racking, the way he’s staring at you. You’ve never been looked at like this. He gently pushes your knee down so he can see more of you.

Zach leaves countless kisses on you, angling his head so that he can give every part of you equal attention, licking his lips in between so that he can savor you.

You arch your back as he starts to languidly tongue you, letting out low moans and warm breaths. His nose presses against your groin, the sound of his wet kisses filling the room.

You run the heel of your palm over his head, caressing him, and he starts to suck your clit, his lips locked tightly.

“That feels so good,” you whisper. The way his mouth is working you sends waves of easy, soft satisfaction through you.

He threshes his tongue, gazing up at you as your face pinches in pleasure. You meet his eyes again, seeing how utterly intoxicated he looks to be doing something so intimate with you.

Zach pulls back, lips smacking off of you, panting now. He runs his hand up to your hip to find your hand and lace his fingers in yours.

“You taste so sweet,” he says, his tone thick with ecstasy, before leaning down again. It’s even better than he even imagined. You’re so slick and hot against his tongue. He could do this for hours.

You continue to run your fingers through his hair with one hand as you squeeze his fingers with the other, soft sighs spilling from your mouth. When you feel his tongue dip into you, you have to bite your bottom lip to quiet your moan.

His groans vibrate against you, guiding you into a state of pure solace. He pulls his hand away from yours to stroke his thumb in gentle circles over your clit as he tongues you. Every inch of your body tingles.

“Don’t stop,” you breathe. “That’s perfect.”

The praise spurs him on. His jaw is sore from how much his tongue is writhing inside you, but your pleasure is worth it.

The orgasm reaches you quickly, a million fireworks of ecstasy bursting through you, pushing you to quiver beneath him.

Zach kisses you as you come down from your high, shifting up to kiss your thigh, then your sternum, then finally your lips.

You meet his lips lazily and tenderly, tasting yourself on him. When you slowly trail your hand down his stomach to palm him over his sweats, he pulls back.

“No, baby,” he murmurs. “I don’t want you doing any work. Just rest tonight.”

He’s rock hard. You can tell how bad he needs the release. You want to do this for him, no matter how dazed you are. But you know he’ll feel guilty if he feels like you’re straining yourself.

“Then you do the work,” you whisper. “The condoms are in the bottom drawer.”

Zach sighs, kissing between your eyebrows, breaths shallow.

“I made you sore last time.”

“A good sore,” you breathily laugh.

“You’re sure?” he asks.

“I want you,” you say.

Your lids are low as Zach shifts to find a condom, pulling down his sweats and boxers, rolling it on carefully. His large frame leans over you, a flush coloring his cheeks as he looks down at you.

“I’m going slow,” he tells you.

“Whatever you want,” you say, and you mean it.

He holds himself at his base, slowly dipping himself into where his tongue was just minutes ago. His breath is strained as he sinks into you, wrapped in your soft heat.

He’s close to bottoming out, and stops, stroking your cheek.

“Still good?” he rasps.

“Yes,” you say. “Keep going.”

Zach sinks into you completely, taking a moment to savor how nice it is to be deep inside you again. His mouth is at the crook of your neck as he slowly starts to thrust back and forth, your bodies meeting with soft smacks.

The pressure of him is hard and perfect as your body rocks with his movements. You shut your eyes, swimming in bliss, breathing out short sighs into his ear as he rocks in and out.

He can’t believe how nicely you’re squeezing him, how perfect you feel, how lucky he is to be here right now. Your bed squeaks when he starts to move faster, his muscles tensing as you wrap your arms around him.

“Still okay?” Zach whispers.

“Yes,” you say. “Come for me.”

Your words are everything to him, the tender dominance he so deeply loves spinning him into a euphoric high. The way you make him feel makes the world stand still, makes him feel like perfection can exist.

He kisses you deeply, his stomach tautening as he comes. He continues to thrust slowly as he rides out the pleasure.

When he collapses, you kiss his cheek over and over, running your hand over the back of his head.

“Thank you,” he whispers. You smile weakly.

“Thank you,” you say.

Zach doesn’t let you stand up. After he gets dressed, he grabs a towel to help clean you up, gentle and slow. You’re still lying on your back when he sits at the end of your bed to pull your panties up over your ankles.

“You always gonna do that?” you tease quietly. “Put my clothes back on after?”

“Yes,” he says. He pulls them all the way up, then drags your pants up, too, before lying down next to you. You shuffle into the position you were in before, your cheek on his shoulder, his arms around you.

“My headache’s gone,” you tell him, “and I’m not just saying that.”

Zach’s chest gently bounces as he laughs.

“Good,” he says. He rubs up and down your arm. “Just tell me when I should go.”

“How’s never?” you ask. He smiles. His heart has never felt warmer.

“Doable,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead. “And… I’m with you. We’ll wait until the end of the season. I don’t want you stressed out, baby.”

“Okay,” you agree. It’s bittersweet and a month and three days have never felt so long, but you agree.

Eventually, you pull yourselves apart. You kiss Zach goodbye and text Ami that the coast is clear.

The next few days are a busy haze, full of stolen glances between you and Zach, and before you know it, it’s the midpoint of the season, the day of staff game.

It’s a scorching afternoon as you warm up on the pitch, eyes flitting to Zach as he jogs on the other side of the field.

Both teams were randomly assigned, and when you noticed that Zach was wearing a red vest over his t-shirt, not matching your blue one, you internally sighed.

You miss him. And if you were on the same team, at least you’d have a perfectly valid reason to talk with him right now.

The campers are seated under canopies on the touchline, already in a spirited cheer-off, rooting for the team their counselors are on.

Ruby blows the whistle to signal the start of the game. Your team keeps the ball on the other side of the field for the first little while, but remain goalless, until eventually, the red team starts to move in.

You’re focused, feeling more confident about your playing than you have in a while. You know you have Zach to thank. You hope you have the opportunity to tell him soon.

You’re quick on your feet as you watch the red team retain possession, the ball quickly spinning back and forth over the grass.

Finally, they make their move, with Zach leading. With slightly bent knees, you watch as he approaches the goal. You’re the only person left between him and your goalie.

He fakes left, but you call his bluff, stepping right to successfully kick it away. A chorus of groans sounds from the campers and some of his teammates.

“Oh, come on, Zach!” Malcolm shouts from the halfway line. “Obviously you want to go easy on your girl, but have some pride.”

“Chill, Malcolm,” Ami shouts back, laughing uneasily. You look back at your teammate, wondering if she broke her promise and told him about you. Or maybe Zach let him know at some point.

Or maybe Malcolm doesn’t know anything and you’re just reading into it. Your eyes dart to Zach as he jogs away. He looks back, his expression tense.

The game ends in a 0-0 draw, and Ruby decides it should come down to a penalty shootout just to end it with a bang. To your surprise, Zach misses, hitting the post. He looks rattled. Your team wins.

After lights out, you replay the moment on the field in your head, wondering how many people heard Malcolm. You want to question Ami about it, but you don’t get a chance to before she leaves for her overnight shift.

You step out into the humid night, figuring a walk will be a good way to clear your head. The anxiety eventually is too big to avoid, so you text Zach: everything alright? does Malcolm know?

As you pace past the camper cabins on your loop around the campground, you see that he replied. I asked him after the game. He knows. Ami told him.

You send a sigh up to the starry sky. She promised. Now not only is the secret out to two people, but considering that Malcolm is Zach’s best friend, maybe he was offended that Zach didn’t tell him, causing even more issues.

You text him: crap. sorry. do you want to talk about it?

You’re surprised and a little slighted to see him text back: It’s all good.

When you reach the staff area, you see Zach’s tall figure heading down the steps of his cabin.

Zach never thought he wouldn’t be glad to see you. But after the tense conversation he just had with Malcolm, he knows that the worry he’s harboring over the very real possibility that his aunt heard Malcolm’s words on the field today won’t make him good company.

He knows it’s not your fault. He willingly went into this with you. He pursued it. He left the marks on your body that exposed you. He should be mad at Malcolm for what he shouted today, and Malcolm only.

But he has a voice in the back of his mind pestering him, frustrated that you didn’t just hide it better and not tell Ami. And he feels like shit for being a little mad at you.

You already saw him. He’s not going to be a dick and ignore you. He’s going to pretend he’s fine.

“Hi,” you say softly, stopping in front of your cabin.

“Hey,” he says. “Out for a walk?”

“Are you mad at me?” you ask.

“What? No,” he says. “Why do you think that?”

“It feels like…” You hold up your phone. “I don’t know, this is the type of thing you’d want to talk about. But you just brushed me off.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “We’re keeping our distance, right?”

You cross your arms, unable to shake the feeling that he’s not being totally honest. You know him well enough by now. Maybe he’s good at putting on a show for other people. But it’s not working on you.

“Zach, is this… is this what you talked about before?” you ask over the crickets chirping loudly around you. “When you said you don’t like to admit it when something’s bothering you?“

He looks down, his tongue jutting from under his cheek.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask again.

He’s silent. His mind is totally blank. He’s never been good at this. He hates that he can’t control how he feels. He feels like a bad person for being upset with someone so sweet who didn’t mean any harm.

“This just… it sucks,” Zach mumbles.

You nod slowly. It’s not a clear answer, but it’s enough. Your heart feels too heavy to force a conversation.

“Yeah,” you say. “It does.”

You turn to go up to your cabin. It hurts when he doesn’t stop you.

(to be continued)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

#zach maclaren and you #zach maclaren and y/n #zach maclaren and reader #zach maclaren x y/n #zach maclaren x you #zach maclaren x reader

273 notes · View notes

lillaxtrigger · 8 months ago

Text

Beaming down from the desolate shadows of an empty dark room, a single light spots down upon the deeply coveted stone of psychic potential; its cracked glass casing glistening against the descending glow. “The psychic stone. An artifact capable of unlocking the true potential of one’s own mind, bestowing those blessed in its glow an incredible power the likes of which are capable of transforming our very world.” Stepping out from among the dark, the violet psychic, plastered in gauze and a couple of casts, swipes the precious babble off the table and admires the little rock encased within, celebrating of how: “And its back in our clutches. Back from the bowels of the mob’s stomach. I mean, its kinda worse for wear. But hell, nothing but a little spit shine and glue can’t fix. What matters is that its in our little corner of town.”

In the blink of an eye is the surrounding void cast away as several more light fixtures overhead illuminate; Wedsle covering his eyes from the invasive glow as he’s revealed to be standing in one of their hideouts offices. Gazing to the other side of the brightly lit space, the purple psychic discovers Frida standing next to the light switch, retracting her finger away from the flip switch to ask: “All great wins. Hooray for us. Now what?” “Ain’t it obvious. We use the stone to power up and overthrow the bosses.” And how you suppose we make that play out?” “Well…um…” “You even have a plan?” “Shut the fuck up! I’m work shopping one.” exclaims Wedsle.

“Do you even know how we’re supposed to power up with that pebble? Hell, do you even know how you did it?” further questions Frida. “Uh…a bolt came out from the crack and shocking me in the head. Next thing I knew, I had one of the worst migraines in my life. Worse than any hangover I felt after a wild night at a swingers party.” “Gross.” “Any who, I couldn’t tell ya what got it this little mcguffin to spark. Could’ve been anything for all I know. Either way, just being out of the mob’s hands is an advantage enough. Better off not having anymore of those bastards being boosted.” Its then that the door leading out from the small office space suddenly bursts open, Thursotte leaping out from the illuminated hall on the other side with exasperation painted across his face. “Guys, you two ain’t gonna believe what I just found out; you’re gonna wanna come and see this.” he urges.

Gathering beside the chaos triggering psychic, Frida, Weds, and Tuesco watch as Thurs sits staring at the monitor of a computer; the screen displaying a myriad of locked files and documents upon looking through. “This is about as much data as the thumb drive I plugged into the laboratory’s server got. Most of it is encrypted, but I did manage to scope out some files that weren’t.” he elaborates. “You managed to keep that? Thought the doc would’ve swiped it back the moment you got caught.” the purple psychic wonders. “I figured the same thing, which is why I put it somewhere him or his drones wouldn’t have thought to look.” “Where would you even keep it?” Tuesco can’t help but wonder. “Let’s just say that when you spend a couple of months in prison, you tend to pick up some tricks you wanna use when sneaking stuff around; preferably if its isn’t something bigger than a couple inches in diameter.” “What does that uh even…” “He’s talking about using his prison wallet.” answers Wedsle. “Ew.”

“What’s a prison wallet?” they all suddenly hear an adolescent voice ask, the trio glancing back to find the Sunny standing right behind them. To the young sound controlling kid’s innocent wonder, a devious smile stretches across the violet psychic cheeks; proclaiming that: “I’m gonna tell him.” “You better not.” Tues threatens. “What are you all even talking about?” “We are about to review what was on copied on the thumb drive.” Thurs gets them all back on track with. “Ooh, can I see.” the boy pleads. “Thurs?” the air crystallizing psychic wonders, looking to the young man. “Meh, all the files we can browse through right now are nothing but documents. Nothing graphic or anything.” “Aw, boring.”

“Well, you might find it all a little less boring when I pull up the visitation records the doc’s been keeping.” mentions Thurs, turning right back to the computer monitor. Displayed on the screen be a full spreadsheet documenting showing a list of months followed by a slew of numbers, each of them categorized from intrusions, meetings, and abductions. Scrolling down near the bottom of the list, the jinx triggering psychic points to a 5 put underneath intrusions. “See this? The server jotted the five of us down not long after we broke into the lab. Assuming no one else didn’t stumble in there by accident, then this list should be accurate.” “There a point to showing us this?” wonders Wedsle. “Look just a month back. Under meetings.” Thursotte hovers the mouse over the very spot he brings attention to, the square standing between last month and how many visited. “4? Guess we weren’t the only one’s making a clinical visit.” Frida figures. “Question is who would even willingly go down to that metal factory of nightmares?”

“Are you for fucking real?” Wedsle then butts in with. “Come again?” “All this time, we thought December was nothing but some shitty urban barrel fire tale told to make lackeys piss themselves. The only people who knew he was real without a doubt were the same one’s he worked under. Who else could it be?” “The bosses!? If they went down there while they still had the stone…Oh god.” shutters Thurs. “But who were their plus one’s? Doubt they’d just lead anyone down there.” questions Frida. “I got a couple of ideas, but can’t be too sure. There anything else you dug up about this, Thurs?” “Nothing that’s unencrypted. Without some way to break the locked files, this is about as much as we can view.” “Dammit! It ain’t like any of us are that tech savvy either. If we can’t access the data. We can’t tell what their next moves’ll be. We’d just be taking pot shots in the dark.” Tuesco summarizes

“None of us can crack this code, but I know somebody who could.” assures Wedsle. “What the- when did you even…If you knew someone like that, why didn’t you say anything before?” questions Thursotte. “Because their anonymity was a priority, had to be with all the info they’ve been shoveling through; scooping up bits of handy intel in between the piles of cow shit. Plus, that they’re not exactly the action type; they’re more of an informant than a fighter.” “Informatio- Hang on. Was this the masked guy you had us meet with in that art museum?” Thurs points out. “The same. While we were all gallivanting through the city like a bunch of drunk collage dropouts, they we’re behind the scenes practically navigating our cobbled together vessel of criminal antics. How you think we figured where our little living megaphone was camping out?” confirms Weds, scuffling the sound controlling kid’s hair. “Of course, with how dangerous things are gonna get out there. I say its time we bring the bitch of a sniffer dog in.”

“So, how are we gonna meet up with them?” wonders Frida. “We aren’t. But one of us will.” “The heck does that mean?” follows Thursotte. “With how dangerous gathering info about the mob was, their identity and whereabouts were top shit. They find out where or who they were, the syndicate wouldn’t waste anytime putting them down and shutting them up. Which is why I had them take so many measures, and why I plan on sending someone to meet them with; somebody they’ll know for sure is with us.” “And, who do you have in mind?” the dimensional psychic asks, a little smirk forming across the side of Wedsle face.

Reverberating out from one of the safe house’s bedrooms be the grungy, repetitive guitar strums of a slow song coming from Satette’s phone; the lively psychic herself left simply laying in her bed to vaguely stare into the darkness that encompass her quarters. Mellow guitar strums and blinking shadows are all that she can bring herself to process among drowning in a swirling froth of ennui, rubbing the properly patched up wound where her arm used to be. As she lies buried deep among the mind numbing gloom, a regrettable sigh can’t help but escape from her; a sign of how she wonders why she continues, despite how much she lost.

Quite frankly demolishing this depressing respite, the door leading out of the bedroom suddenly busts down against the encompassing might of the purple psychic’s ass kicking foot; the unexpected break in causing Sat to fumble right off the side of her bed. Letting himself in, Wedsle starts to constantly flip the light switch on and off as he loudly blares out: “Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey, bitches. Time to make like a slick backed pimps cash cow, climb out from the cesspit of pity parties and get yer ass back out in the streets!” “Agh, Weds!? You couldn’t have at least knocked?” “The other’s tried knocking for your unresponsive short term depressive labia for the past few days without so much as a peep. Figure I’d skip the formality and skip straight to dragging you outta this nest of pathetic sadness.” “No, thanks. I’m not in the mood.” grumbles Satette, crawling back onto her bed.

A small sigh seeps out from his mouth as Wedsle approaches the bed to sit on the side, resting his palm atop the young woman’s shoulder and consoling how: “Look, I can see what you’re going through, taking the L and losing your arm. Feels like the whole world around you is caving in while your left to slowly drown in this bubbling black tar of defeatism. I’ve felt the pools gradual sticky pull more than once, I won’t lie; but there is always a way to swim out from the sadness and wash off the tarry splotches of lingering despair. You wanna know how?” “Hm?” “Its by getting off your ass and getting out there like a freshly motivated prostitute still humoring future hopes and dreams. Switch that daily dose of depresso for a cool cup columbine coffee, preferably with a dash of sugar and creamer. Just not the kind in the back though, time’s turn that sweet nectar into chunky custard.” “Hm.” “Besides, even if you don’t wanna, I can just drag you out by the only arm you got left.” “You wouldn’t.” she finally turns over to him to respond with. “Oh Sat, you’ve seen me do way worse.” This tad bit of persuasion is enough to motivate the lively psychic into climbing out from her bed and stand once more; stretching her arm and legs as she requests: “Just gimme 10 minutes, kay?” “Atta girl. Get back out there and kick your depressive episode right in the pussy.” motivates Wedsle, making his way out the bedroom door.

Shutting Satette’s bedroom door behind him, the purple psychic glances over to find Frida waiting beside the door; the gun wielding woman worrying “Weds, you sure the girl’s ready to get back out there?” “The informant specifically requested to meet up with her, she has to go.” “Tell that to her crippling depression.” “Trust me, Frids. When she meets up with out special guest, that frown is gonna turn upside down in the blink of an eye, and maybe then some.” The dimensional psychic can’t help but let a concerning groan slip over Wedsle’s assurance; Weds himself noticing the little signs of anxiety as she turns over Sat’s bedroom door. “Damn, Frida. You seem a little more uncharacteristically anxious than usual. I typically see you saving that sort of helicopter parent shit for Thurs, and even then, it ain’t anything like this. What’s up?” “What the fu- Nothing. Okay. Fuck off.”

“Oh okay, now I’m starting to get it.” “The hell are you talking about.” “Its practically written all over your face. You’re upset over Sat losing her arm on your watch, aren’t ya?” Though she didn’t wish to display it, her faux indifference was easy to see straight past; the way her eyes trail over to the door. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up too hard about it. Ya destroyed the lab, got his files, killed the doc, and got everyone out of there alive. Considering how much you had on your plate, you handled all that pretty damn smoothly.” “Not as smoothly as I hoped. Everyone got caught cause of my piss poor planning and had to be bailed out by a fucking preteen. If Sunny listened to me and didn’t drop in when he did, none of us would’ve made it out. Told you I wasn’t leader material, and what that girl in there lost proves it.” “Frids, come on, you-”

Their conversation is suddenly cut short as the door beside them opens up; stepping out from the dark bedroom being the lively psychic, dressed and ready to go. Not a word is shared between the trio as Satette simply walks right past them; the despondent fog blanketing her pupils making it abundantly clear how utterly defeated she feels. Her dejected display of gloom and doom further lowers Frida’s spirits; the dimensional psychic seeing first hand how utterly affected by the loss of her friend’s arm was. “Sat, hold up…” Wedsle attempts to stop her with. Despite in earshot of the purple psychic, his call goes unabated as Sat simply meanders around the corner. Hoping to salvage what he could out of this depressing circumstance, Weds turns back around to try and heave Frida out from her own funk; yet is left disappointed as he discovers the wall merging psychic having absconded as well. “Fuckin, jeez. Thought one moody woman was enough on my hands, now I got two to deal with.”

Contrasting against the harsh depths of the urban jungle, the towering concrete walls and constant car horn honking are replaced with wide open sky, natural green tree’s, and bird chirps that make up the peaceful vibe of one of the big apple’s suburban Burroughs. The rough apartments of brick and stone cast aside in place of small personal homes; the tree’s and foliage, once suffocating among the pavement, spread more thoroughly among the stretches of house yards lining the suburbs. Hell, there were even some small gardens being cultivated in some of the backyards that could be peeked into.

Strolling along the sidewalk of this stretch of inner city suburban life, Satette peers across the street with the same gloomy gaze she had when leaving the safehouse; the drastic change in her surroundings doing little to quell the crumminess looming over her. But not everything was as well as this little slice of suburban life would lead you to, for she soon comes upon a young woman walking right by her; the lady’s tired and pale visage showing her to not be doing so hot. It felt as if this sickly woman was barely aware of her surroundings as she stumbles around in a dizzying haze, left dressed as if she had just gotten out of bed with nothing but a shirt and some sweatpants on. Neither of them so much as say a word to one another as they pass by; but something does end up escaping from the woman’s mouth as she suddenly lets out a giant sneeze just a few feet away from the lively psychic, leaving Satette to back away as she lets the lady pass by.

This cautious step back ends up distracting her to not pay attention to a tree planted along the sidewalk, the lively psychic unwittingly gets her foot caught along an exposed root and starts to fumble. Without so much as a thought does she try to save herself by reaching over to the tree standing to her right, yet realizes all too late the lack of her right arm; leaving her to just fall right onto the hard concrete sidewalk. The obvious pain from the fumble aside, this little screw up is what makes it dawn on her how seldom used to her missing limb she truly was; her own body not even adjusted to the change as she still felt as if her arm was still there. God dammit…

Appearing out in the aftermath of her fumble, Satette peers over to witness a palm being offered to her; the lively psychic taking the helping hand to let it help her pull her back up and discover the hand belonging to a middle aged man, concerned over her fall. “You feeling alright there, missy?” “Yeah, just a few scrapes. Nothing serious.” she assures. “You sure that all? Somethin’s telling me that little tumble wasn’t only thing getting you down.” the man then questions. “Sorry, but I’m a little too busy right now to trauma dump on some random stranger I bumped into.” “You at least got time to talk about your recent arm accident.” the middle aged man suddenly points out, an observation of which makes Sat stop dead in her tracks. “How do you know it was recent?” she sternly asks him. “Its practically painted all over your pretty little face. The bags of eyes, the unkempt ragged hair, the utter despondency. Seems like your suffering from a case of the blue’s right there. You wanna take a break and talk about it.” “The hell does someone like you know what I’m going through?” Satette defensively questions. “I know more than you might think.” claims the man, waltzing over to the side of the tree.

Leaning himself against the small tree’s bark, the kind stranger reaches down to one of his legs and clutches to its ankle; Satette left astonished as she watches the guy pull the lower half of his own leg right off. Presenting this does he reveal the bottom of his leg to be nothing but plastic; a prosthetic serving to replace a part of the foot having long since been lost. “Jesus! A fake leg?” “Yep. Got caught in an accident around my early 30’s that left my leg a balled up scrunchy; had to be cut off so this bad boy could take its place.” “Jeez. I didn’t know. Now I just feel like a huge bitch.” she reluctantly admits. “Don’t be. I felt around the same way as you when it got cut off. Depressed, frustrated, felt like my whole world was falling apart. Shut out everyone that tried to help. Course that was years and years ago. And you wanna know the difference between then and now?” “What?” “Some friends, some joy and most importantly, time. It took me time. Admittedly, more of it then I thought, but still.” After taking a bit of a moment to pop his prosthetic leg back on, the middle aged man pushes himself of the side of the tree and continues with: “Time might not heal all wounds, but it heals more of them than you might think. Maybe let that ruminate with ya for a bit.” The encounter with the cheery middle aged man coming to a close, Sat simply watches the guy stroll back into his daily commute; putting her hand in her dress pocket as his words stick to her.

In the depths of her own pocket does she feel something tucked within and starts to pull it out, Satette taking out a folded slip of paper to soon begins to unravels its several crevices; the process somewhat cumbersome to manage with only a single hand. When she does eventually unfold the small slip of notebook paper, Sat flaps the piece around a bit to straighten it out to make out the words written; a message inscribed to the lively psychic tell her of the objective at hand. “Sat, in case you’ve been too busy wallowing in the bottomless self pity and depression oozing out from the crevices of your own brain and forgot why the hell I sent you out wandering around the middle of an inner city suburb, I wrote down what’s gotta be done for ya. You can thank me later. For now, due to the sensitive nature of our informant’s safety and anonymity, the best course of action for them to know without a doubt who they meet with is to cause a little bit of a commotion down here in this little slice of white picket fence disgrace of modern neighborhood street design; it is only then our informant shall reveal themselves to you. My advice is to take a page out of Thursotte’s strategy guide and cause an accident to happen the only way you know how. P.S: No matter how shitty it all may feel, never forget what we’re fighting for.” Fighting for? What the hell are we fighting for anymore?

Breaking her out from this somber moment is she baited from the small note when the voice of a child calls for her attention; Satette peering up from the note to discover an upset young boy urgently compelling for her with: “Hey, miss; you got a sec!?” “Hey, kid, chill. What’s with all the stress?” she returns with. “My big sister got out of the house when I was supposed to be watching her. There’s no way she can be out here being as sick as she is?” “Jeez, sounds urgent. What’s she look like?” “You’d know it when you see it, She-she-she looked pretty pale, tired, hair’s a mess, only got a shirt and sweatpants on. Uh…” “Oh, I just ran into someone like that. Looked pretty out of it while they were stumbling around the corner back there.” “Thank you so much!” the boy appreciates, bolting right beside the lively psychic and towards the sidewalk corner behind her. “Hol up, you…need a…hand?” Satette tries to offer, her voice stumbling the further the boy runs. The kid far too focused on catching up with his sickly sister, fails to hear her request as he hurries right around the corner; Satette letting out a disappointed sigh upon her aid being spurred. Yeah, guess somebody with just one arm wouldn’t have much hands to give. I mean, what’s a disarmed bitch with nothing meaningful left in her life like me good for anyway.

The lively psychic’s is suddenly drawn to a horde of trucks that roll past her; each of them hauling hefty construction vehicles and equipment on their beds. Curiosity doesn’t spark what all this equipment was for, that is until after the trucks turn the corner of a four way intersection, where upon a small crowd slowly marches from the other side of the road. It was obvious that this small crowd wasn’t made of some gathering onlookers; not just their upset demeanor and the way they step in stride after the trucks, but the signs most of them raise up holding bold slogans and phrases of disagreement and denial. This was no mere batch of watchers, no; this was a full blown organized protest. Its this development right here that peeks her interest and gets her to follow after to see what this might entail, following after the disgruntled mob

In the midst of following both the mob and in turn the trucks they pursue, Satette can’t help but notice the natural flourishing green’s of the neighborhood being uprooted and torn asunder by some of the heavy duty equipment rampaging through chunks of the tree lines and fields; forcing the small wildlife that called such places home to flee from the wrath of these machines. It wasn’t just the animals that were left to endure this invasion, no. For the surrounding plants, trees, shrubs, even lines of grass that shared these rare spots of soil were losing their natural vibrancy; their color drained away as they were left to wither as nothing but pale, dry, husks. This gradual decay looming over the neighborhood like an infection, it was obvious of why this gathering of good samaritans banded together in the fact of this tragedy in the making; but what against remained to be answered. What manner of rapidly escalating progress was worth carving such a wound upon this quaint little neighborhood?

The lively psychic’s brief venture following the protesters comes to a sudden end as she accidentally bumps right into one of them, keeping herself from falling over again as she finds the crowd having stopped their march. Satette backs away to gauge a view past the mob and see for herself what they had been rallying against. From where she stands does Sat discover the protest taking place right in front of a number of buildings and large pipes being constructed by dozens of workers, carefully planning and building across a leveled field sitting right along the edge of the inner city suburb. Beside the construction site stood a billboard declaring that this project was: “The future site of the Kelito chemical plant. Redefining energy production since 1978.” Kelito, like the big energy corporation? They can’t be serious. These greedy fucks are trying to muscle their way in through small suburbs now? You think a company that big’d have other, better places to build another site. Is the city that desperate for energy that they can let these jackass’s leisurely bulldoze around people’s homes?

Venturing her gaze away from the ongoing protest is her attention then drawn over a small concession stand set up next to a truck parked along the side, the stand advertising the sale of locally grown produce harvested from this very neighborhood. Though such a small inconsequential background detail typically doesn’t bait her attention, her growling stomach beckons otherwise and compels her to approach. Probably should’ve ate something before I left. Do I even have any money?

Upon approaching the quaint little stand as a couple of the protester depart with some fresh snacks to chow down on, the old lady serving the produce looks to the lively psychic with a warm and welcoming grin as she greets with: “Hey there, sweetie. Care for a little snack in these trying times.” “Um, sorry. I don’t got any cash on me.” “Nonsense. All of it’s on the house. You youngins will need the energy keeping up the good fight.” she claims, offering Sat an apple. “Oh, thanks.” Nabbing the piece of fruit from the old woman’s grasp, the lively psychic waste’s not another moment to chomp down through its skin and take a chunk right off; the apple juicy sweet nectar flooding her mouth with its tasty splendor with every bite. “Ooh, damn. This real good. What’s in it?” “Nothing special, I just grew it right in the comfort and care of my own backyard garden. Been growing fruits and vegetables since I was a little girl. There’s a hint of love in every bite. But I’m not sure how much longer I can go on saying that, not with this new fangled chemical plant muscling its way in and tearing up the neighborhood.” she laments.

“About that. Why of all places does a big corp like Kelito so eager to build along the side of a little neighborhood.?” Satette questions. “I’m not completely in the know about it all; but from what I heard, the city’s power generators are incredibly out of date and aren’t providing enough energy. So the city offices enlisted Kelito to help update the structure with their own facilities, and they think the big field along the edge of our neighborhood is the perfect place to set up shop.” “That can’t be legal; building something like that so close to a suburb.” argues Satette. “Unfortunately, what’s legal and what’s right doesn’t matter much anymore nowadays. Whatever loophole they found, they’re exploiting to no end and back with a seemingly unending well of money. As long as the cash doesn’t stop flowing, there’s not much the authorities are willing to do to step up for people like us.” “Big energy’s stepping on the common folks and the government’s just turning a blind eye. No wonder everyone’s so pissed.”

“Yes sir, and its just getting worse by the day. I don’t know what else those corporate creeps are doing around here; but it hasn’t just been effecting trees and plants. Some people living around here even have been getting very ill since they started building here; vomiting, diarrhea, pale skin. These blocks have been through their fair share of flue season’s, but it was never anything this severe.” People here getting sick? Its upon the old woman’s recounting that Sat then remembers the pale sickly woman she had encountered when first coming to this slice of suburban life; her sickly demeanor now making a lot more sense. Does she live around here?

“Take a little look over there for me.” the old woman then tells her, pointing towards the corner of the block. “See that house? The one boarded all up?” Directing her attention over to one of the quaint little homes lining the corner of the block in question, Sat finds the house plastered with nailed on planks and boards all over the windows and door; the big plank of wood attached to the front compelling people to not break in and enter. Its yard drained of color, its tree’s withered and dead, and its shrubs baron and dry. “That run down one?” Sat wonders. “That’s where Mr. Yukon used to live. He used to be the life of the party every time the neighborhood had a shindig for New years, 4th of July, Halloween almost every holiday all year around. If there was a party, he’d be there to turn it into a night to remember. But ever since the plant started to be built nearby, the less we saw of him. Found out he caught one hell of a bug one day and came out less and less, figure he didn’t want anybody catching what he had. But it soon got bad enough for him to be carted off to the hospital; and after that, his home had to be boarded up. Nobody’s seen him since.”

“Oh my god.” “And its not just him, several more people had to move due to this strange bug going around. If Kelito doesn’t stop tearing up our little corner of suburba to build this new energy plant, the whole neighborhood will be forced to move. A lot of people around here worked to get this quaint little life away from the terror of the inner city, and I can’t afford to pack up and leave.” “And, that’s why you’re out here? Sharing the produce you picked for the people trying to fight back?” the lively psychic summarizes. “Precisely. I might not have as much pep in my step as I used to, but it warms my aging heart to see the people of today fighting for what they hold dear.” For what they value, huh? A look to the bitten down apple she holds in her hand, Satette discovers that she had chomped down close to the core of the humble little fruit; the seeds at the center nestled in the crevices of the middle. From the core of the apple, the lively psychic than turns her attention over to one of the excavators brought along one of trucks driven here; the hefty metal machine thrusting its claw near the roots of a towering tree. “Hey lady. How much produce are you packing?” she asks with a confidently sly grin.

Plunging its claws once more into the tree’s soil, the powerful excavator swipes through the dirt to expose its vunerable roots; the hardened wooden veins sticking out from the bottom of the oak. The worker inside pulls at the lever controls to command the digger’s scoop to slowly lower down towards the tree’s roots; its steel claws inching closer to the base. Yet the hefty machines neck would suddenly cease lowering as a harsh grinding could be heard screeching out from within the excavator itself; the levers that the worker had been manning refusing to budge. “The hell?” Curious of what the cause of the machine’s malfunction could be stemming from, the construction worker hops out from the excavators booth and ventures over to the back of the vehicle; the source of the trouble spotted when finding strands of green slithering out from the back panel. Upon popping open the hood, the worker lets out a confused grunt before calling out: “Uh…boss. Might wanna come and see this.”

Entangled through the gears and pistons of the machines inner workings run several stretches of healthy green vines, with their length baring plump grapes spanning all through the inside of the excavator; some of these fruit having burst to spew their juices right on some of the crucial parts. Staring down to this odd practice of sabotage be a man in a slick back haircut donning a short sleeved yellow business tee plastered in black highlights; his piercing glare down upon the mess making it clear that he was less than pleased. “What the fuck am I looking?” he asks aloud. “I…I don’t know, boss. One of the protesters must’ve ran some vines they pulled from their backyard through the inside while nobody was working.” one of the gathered workers guesses. “Should we postpone the excavation to call for another digger?” another question. “You’re joking with me, right? With how long it took to deliver this one? Our schedule’s tight enough as it is, and we can’t afford to waste another day over one of those chanting dipshits sad excuses for sabotage. Weed and clean it all out and get the excavators back up and running; I want this ground leveled by tomorrow. Lets move people, daylight’s burning.” the construction boss orders with a clap. Though disgruntled over their superiors hasty demands, the crew starts getting to work in fixing up the broken down excavator; a time consuming effort of which the lively psychic watches as she snacks on a couple of grapes.

Suspended high above the ground via the hook of a crane be a bundle of steel frames, being delivered on a plank of wood about three floors or so towards the top of the constructing building; some of the workers standing up that high signaling the crane driver to maneuver the hard steel. But trouble begins to brew as the neck of the crane unexpectedly stops just short of some feet near the building, as the sudden stop causing the wooden plank holding the frame to tremble with enough of a jerk to send the steel pieces sliding right off and plummeting towards the ground below; those workers nearby fleeting as the frame crashes down. “Jesus!” one of them exclaims.

Among the brief moment of terror and fright does the man in the yellow and black business shirt cut his way through the gathered workers in attempting to assess the situation, demand: “Move, move! What happened!?” Sharing in the site the rest of his crew partake in, a sharp gasp escapes from his mouth when discovering the damages, approaching the site to take a closer look as he exclaims: “Oh my god!” To his horror, the boss nears the mess to discover the steel frame having been bent from the drop; its straight lines harshly curved down. “The damn steel frames all busted up! What the hell we’re you numbskulls doing!?” “It ain’t our fault, boss. The crane just froze up out of nowhere. But don’t worry, nobody got hurt.” “That’s not the problem. Do you all know how long it took to special order this frame? Now I gotta call for another one and that could take half a week. Which of you was driving the crane?” he demands. “I don’t think the driver was the problem, boss.” one of the workers claim, his eyes glued to the hefty piece of equipment. “The hell does that mean?” “Just look.”

Returning his sites back to the construction vehicle in question, the construction manager’s eyes widen upon discovering a long stalk of green slithered tightly around the neck of the crane; the piece of foliage stretching out from machines base. Though the strangest detail to stand out being the fact that from the lengthy stalk can plump red tomatoes bee seen having sprouted, one of them falling off the vine to land right in the boss’s grasp. Closely inspecting the piece of fruit, he finds it to be no different from any other ripe tomato, with its bright red skin reflecting the sunlight. A strained growl escape from him as the manager spikes the perfectly good piece of fruit down onto the ground, splattering against the hardened dirt; a clear display of frustration he brushes aside as he orders his crew to: “Weed it all out from the crane to get it back up and running. We ain’t gonna let whatever shit someone’s pulling here slow us down.”

Nestled atop a tiny mound of soil stood a patch of planted daffodils; what petals remained clinging on to the top of the stem as they attempt to hold onto their vibrant colors. Yet is their noble stand against all odds is threatened as a monolithic machine treads its way, with its wide head effortlessly tearing through the grassy plains; the daffodils petals quivering as the bulldozer draws near. The moment that the vastly huge vehicle is about to violently shovel through the lonely patch of flowers, a terrible metallic screech echoes from underneath the bulldozer as it suddenly comes to an unexpected halt; the worker driving the machine hitting her face against the glass window upon being flung from her seat. “Augh! What the he-what just happened!?” she harshly questions, climbing down from the driver seat to inspect. Taking a gander of what could make the massive machine she had been driving stop so suddenly, her irritation swiftly turns to disbelief upon beholding the root cause of the problem; her utter surprise urging her to call for: “Boss, there’s something else!”

Entangled across the treads of the hefty bulldozer be hard strands of wood running across the gears and wheels of the machines steel bed; the hard roots enveloping the frame to to prevent the treads from moving another inch. “And, this what you found when it stopped on you, right?” the man in the yellow and black business shirt recounts, staring down to the damages. “Yeah, I didn’t see any sort of leftover roots while I was driving. It’s like they just turned up or something, its freaky.” “Come on, that’s crazy. Like roots can just pop out from the ground? Quit making stuff up.” another worker mocks. “Nova, I’m being serious. These last couple attempts of sabotage aren’t like anything we’ve seen before. I doubt those all those protester could do something this bizarre. None of this is natural.” the worker beckons to the boss. “Hmm…You might be onto something there.” Nova agrees. “What say the rest of you take your break while I do some maintenance on this hunk of junk right here?” “You sure, boss?” “Course, think everyone needs a breather after the back to back incidents. Just take 30 while I take care of some stuff.”

Left with little to complain over, the crew of construction workers split for their break and leave their superior alone with the entangled bulldozer; Nova himself waiting until each of them were out of sight before he turns to the construction vehicle. But one pair of eyes he doesn’t expect to watch him be those of the lively psychic herself; Satette laying low around the corner of a nearby house as she intently watches the construction boss approach the side of the dozer. Kneeling down to the vehicles treads, Nova reaches for the mess of the roots entangling its wheels and tightly clutches to one of the wooden strands; Sat’s suspension sky rocketing when she witnesses a bright green power seeping out from the construction worker manager. No way. Coursing out from the boss, the potent green power surges directly into the hard oak roots plaguing the hefty piece of construction equipment; the lengths of wood beginning to shrivel up and wither underneath the influence of this gnarly aura. He’s a psychic!?

The once healthy and thick pieces of root, within moments, are left as nothing but crumbled and dry sticks; twigs that the manager tugs out from the inside of the machine with extreme ease. A satisfied chuckle leaves the boss as he jerks out the last piece of shriveled wood; his special kind of supernatural touch having reduced all of the invasive roots clogging up the bulldozer to nothing but a pile of dead sticks. What the hell did he do to them!? The last of the roots pulled right out, Nova climbs up to the seat of the bulldozer and turns the keys to fire up the engine, stepping on the gas to see the construction vehicle moving like normal once more; the patch of daffodils crushed under the machine’s terrible weight as it flattens the land they stood to level. Confirming the heavy bulldozer to be back up and running, the construction manager turns off the machine before hopping out, waltzing away with satisfied confidence.

Left curious of what the boss could’ve possibly done to the mess of roots she had planted, Satette prowls out from side of the home to step out from the shadows; slowly nearing the bundle of withered sticks Nova had just finished uprooting. The lively psychic reaches her hand over to the pile of dried up twigs in an attempt to inspect closer, but is forced to reel her fingers back upon feeling an overwhelming heat radiate from their withered bark! Ah! God, that stings! What did that slicked back dickhead even do? Yet despite the mess of withered twigs being incredibly smoldering to the touch, there crackled exterior holds not even a single ember among their dried out wood; just left as shriveled and sapped of color as the rest of the flora around this part of the neighborhood. Can’t believe that a psychic was behind all this. The construction crew hasn’t even reach far out from hear, and yet the surrounding tree’s and plants are all dried up; there’s no way they could make the neighborhood turn gray when they’re just building over stuff. But what’s a psychic doing all the way back out here? Is he with the mob too? Whatever the case, its clear that he’s the one behind the decay of this slice of suburba; how is yet another question to be answered. A construction crew boss like him has to have a trailer or something parked around here to camp in during the day; surely the dude has to have some sort of documents or connections stowed away in it.

Secretly stalking the construction boss across the site, Satette sees the slicked back dipstick of a manager waltz his way up to a humble mobile trailer parked right along the edge of the yard; just as the lively psychic had predicted. What she failed to predict however were the dozen or so construction workers leisurely sitting between her and said trailer; each of them enjoying their well earned break chowing down on their packed lunches. Okay, no problem. Ain’t nothing you hadn’t tackled. Might be a little rusty, and a tad handicapped. Never stopped me before; even when people begged me not to.

Sticking to the shadows sprawling along the side of the site, Satette slithers her way around the numerous workers leisurely enjoying every second of their downtime; not one of them so much as notices her weaving across their eyes. For the most part, this demonstration of stealth was pretty simple and straight forward; hiding behind hefty equipment, avoiding prying eyes, slithering through when nobody was looking. Nothing she hadn’t done before. Of course, that swiftly changes when coming to the last stretch between her and the manager’s trailer; with next to nothing for her to conceal herself from the open. Practically anyone on the site could see her approach the trailer along the small piece of open space; it almost seemed impossible to come near it without a pair of eyes casually glancing her way.

But Sat’s own eyes then discover a small window of opportunity when spotting a power line spanning from one of the electrical poles, all the way right to the side of the boss’s trailer; veiled in some plastic covering standing in between the line and the eyes of the workers. Well, that’s one way close the gap stealthily enough. Course, actually getting up there and shimmying through is another story. Laying so much as a finger on those lines could fry me right up into a juicy beef patty…maybe a slim beef patty. There’s gotta be some way to get across without turning my ass into crispy fried bacon. It’s when pondering of a way across the lines that she lays eyes upon the remains of a small tree; its body withered and soiled away into nothing but a dry husk, no doubt plagued by whatever the construction boss had inflicted. Such a lifeless husk of wood would normally be of little use to anyone in her case, yet to the lively psychic is only a matter of how to use it.

Even with her years of dexterity practice, Satette shows to have some trouble scaling the electrical pole, even when holding onto and stepping on the stakes planted on its side; the lack of her other arm making the climb quiet cumbersome. And its in the middle of her ascent when reaching for the iron stake above that her grasp unexpectedly slips; Sat instinctively attempting to reach out with her none existent arm in trying to stop her fumble, yet to no avail. A cruelly timed reminder over her lack of her other limb. Her legs closest to the electrical pole, Satette manages to bend them around the stakes underneath to save her hide, slamming her back against the pole’s hard wood rather than fumbling back to the ground; the lively psychic holds her tongue in trying to not grunt or shout from the hitting her back. Fucking phantom limb syndrome.

Its after recovering from that near debacle that Satette makes it to the top of the electrical pole, hearing the audible hum of power that surges through the thick black wires just a few feet away; that thick black wire spanning across the edge of the site and right over the boss’s office trailer. Reaching to her back, the lively psychic pulls out a piece of dried out wood she took from that withered tree; the bark across the limb left with very little vibrant color to speak off. Yet even in its decaying state can Sat feel some kick left in this small little stick and courses her power through the twig; the natural green aura reconstructing the piece of wood into a curved hook. Placing both of her feet down onto the same iron stake, the lively psychic makes a brave leap up and hoists her wooden hook up to its electrical wires, successfully dangling onto the power lines without invoking its shocking wrath. Got it. Now just to shimmy across to the trailer with my other… Its her sudden judgment that she glances to where her arm used to be, followed by looking to her other arm as the realization begins to sink in for her. The lack of another limb making it impossible for her to simply inch across the power line. Oh..well dammit. Seems I didn’t think this all the way through.

Things end up getting worse as she gazes up back to find the electrical line starting to unravel, no doubt from all the excess weight it was never meant to carry. Oh shit. Acting quickly, Satette morphs her wooden hook to envelope around and clutch at the unraveling power line, the transformed branch firmly grasping the wiring just before it snaps. Despite its withered appearance, the small wooden stick manages to keep its grip onto the power line as Sat falls; the lively psychic swinging across the side of the construction site while keeping her mouth shut. Even with this blunder however, she quickly closes in onto the construction boss’ trailer and lets go of her morphed wooden hook. Yet when attempting reach both hands out to land gracefully, the lack of her other limb ends up making her mess up the landing and winds up crash and tumbling to the back of the trailer. Ouch… The trailer window above her clicks before it suddenly slides open; the manager of the site sticking his head out for what could be causing such a commotion; Nova finding not a soul standing outside that could make such racket. Seeing nobody else right out his window, the construction boss ends up shrugging off the noise and closes his window back up, unaware of the lively psychic crawling underneath his trailer.

Pacing back and forth in the small trailer space, Nova steps over the crumbs and coffee stains littering the floor; a mess which the manager is inclined to simply ignore as he’s himself was scattered and worried while conversing with somebody on the phone. “I-I know…I know…I know…Look, I…There’ve been some setbacks, but I guarantee you, the project is coming along nicely and will be done on time. Yes, I know how important this is supposed to be to you guys. The protesters are enough of a pain in the ass; think they might be tampering with the equipment as of late.” Nova leans against the side of his desk as he lets the person on the other end of the call continue to speak, which was littered with piece of paper and used pens; some of them sliding off to the side as he responds with: “You know how we can’t just “take care of them all” like some common hit, not just out here in the public…Of course I haven’t just been laying down and taking it. I’m sure you of all people know how discrete you gotta be when uprooting the weeds that pop up every now and again.”

Pushing himself right off the side of his desk, the construction manager waltzes right over to the window and stick his finger in between the blinds, peeking outside for his sites to rest to one of the nearby houses left in disarray. “Manage to finally drive out this one guy that’s been a thorn in our side; the guy that rallied the people around here into protesting. Some old rando named Yukon or whatever; should’ve seen the look on their faces when he got hauled to the hospital.” Nova’s vision drifting over to the crowd of protesters, his eyes lock to the old lady providing freshly picked fruits and vegetables “I imagine a couple more of those cases’ll get the rest of those shout picket sign shits to scatter like cockroaches. Remind me again why you had me set up a site like this out of the blue?…Power shortage? First time’s that’s happened for us in a while, but what happened to what you were using before…Alright, alright, fine. Just say its a secret. No need to get so hostile on me, man. Just gimme about a month or two, March. I know the rest of the mafia needs it now more than ever. I swear I’ll get this plant up by this season. Alright?…Alright. Cool talking to you.” Hanging up the line, the construction boss stows his phone back into his pocket as he strolls on over to the door, opening up and stepping out as he tells his crew that: “Alright. Eatin times over! Back to the grind people! Chop, chop. Got a lot to catch up on if we wanna make the quota.”

Once the manager slams the trailer door behind him, that was the queue for a sliver of wood to begin sawing through the floor and carve out a sizable hole from underneath the trailer; the cut circle popping out as the lively psychic lifts her way in. Climbing inside the little office trailer, she begins to look around for whatever may tell her of the manager’s next move; no doubt the first place to look for something that crucial and fresh being the drawers of his desk. I definitely didn’t miss hear him. That slicked back douche had one of the scions on the other line. The mob higher ups must be desperate to get a source of power up and running if they’re risking to build in an open neighborhood. Now with December and his lab washed away in the briny blue, they’re scattering to get control back in the tech side of the city. Still doesn’t say a damn thing about who this guy is and what he did to make part of the place as drained and gray as a lifeless husk.

In among rummaging through one of the boss’s desk drawers that Satette ends up finding something intriguing among the usual documents, and office supplies; the lively psychic pulling out what appeared to be a strange radar with a metal wand attached to the top. On its face was an analog screen and a meter displaying numbers ranging from 10 to 500; the back depicted more clear information showing the name and model number of the device. Something called a Geiger counter. Weird name. Sort of looks like one of those tools hazmat people use in movies when trying to measure how toxic..someplace is…

Its from this stray thought that the nature of her foe’s power starts to become clear to her; left to think back of the sickly young woman that was wondering through the streets; the way the surrounding plants withered and decayed, how the old woman described how that one guy got sick and had to be taken to the hospital with his place boarded up, and how the wood felt hot to touch even without it being on fire. All of it. Every seemingly random incident lead to a single conclusion. Oh my god, the son of a bitch is radioactive! He’s been using radiation to kill all the plants and tree’s to make it easier to build over. He’s been poisoning the people living here to drive them all away and demolish their homes! That’s it, this slicked back rat bastard has to die!

The midnight moon rises high in the pitch black sky as the clock strikes the late hours of the night; the construction site left entirely baron and empty, with not a single worker, or protester for that matter, left in site. Though most of the site lay blanketed by shadow, one source of luminescence glows among the surrounding darkness as the manager’s trailer stays alight; Nova left stuck at his desk with a mound of paperwork to sort through. When a long yawn ends up escaping from his lungs, the construction boss reaches over for a cup of coffee left sitting at the corner of the desk and takes a little sip; the nuclear psychic withdrawing his lips from the rim of the mug upon noticing the drink having lost its refreshing warmth. Nova remedies this by clutching the sides of the cup with but one hand before surging his radioactive energy into the drink; lines of steam wafting up from the surface of the liquid in just a few short moments. Its from this that the boss takes another sip from his mug of coffee to feel the assuring warmth once more, letting out a satisfied moan as he guzzles the drink down. His little sip blows into a full on spit take when a loud metal thud suddenly echoes from outside; Nova left with strands of coffee drooling down his mouth as his eyes lurch to the window.

Stepping outside to see what might have caused such a loud racket, Nova closes the door behind him as he peers out into the dimly lit site; the manager finding not a soul in his immediate surroundings. His suspicion still lingers as he continues away from his parked trailer to venture deeper into the shadowy site, positive that the commotion he heard was no meager accident. “If its one of those picket sign pricks doing this, I swear to god.”

The cool night air flows in from the open roof overhead as Nova makes his way into the partially constructed plant building, looking through the shadows infested within. Raising but a single finger, the construction manager disperses the encompassing darkness with the light of his own nuclear energy; the shadows fleeting from the small radioactive green glow. His light reveals nothing worth of note among the scattered construction tools and standing scaffolding; his suspicion slowly deflating as he finds not a piece of evidence of tampering. That is until the construction manager uncovers a rather odd display, coming upon a ravel of oak wood having entangled itself in one of the forklifts; Nova letting out a frustrated sigh as he approaches one of its branches.

Clutching against the mess of wood, the construction manager begins to erode away its strength with doses of radiation like he had done with the bulldozer before; a task of which leaves the him unaware of a dark figure encroaching from the shadows with a stake in hand. The figure surreptitiously inches closer and closer as they raise the splintered stake, preparing to plunge its wood into the boss’s back. Finally lunging to the man from behind, the figure thrusts the stake towards the man’s back; but is utterly caught off guard as the tip of their weapon suddenly erodes away into a stump. The piece of harmless eroded wood prodding behind him, Nova swiftly turns back around with a handful of lethal power in the palm of his hand; the deadly green light reveals the attacker to be the lively psychic as she leaps away from the radioactive swipe. Satette fumbling onto the tiled floor, she beholds the nuclear construction manager look down on her with baggy, yet sharp eyes. “He he he he he, I figured that the kind of shit I had to unravel couldn’t be from any of those sign swinging shit stains; had to be the work of another psychic. Didn’t expect that psychic to be a wanted traitor, though. Man, things might be looking up for me real soon. The scions are flip when I send them them you’re charred body.”

The dastardly green glow in the man’s hands growing brighter, Satette quickly pulls herself up and dashes away just as Nova throws out the orb of radiation down at her; the lively psychic narrowly avoiding the nuclear blast. His intruder threatening to escape, the nuclear psychic gives chase after Satette as she darts throughout the floor of the site; the young woman hurdling over iron poles, around stacks of boxes, and leaping across patches of wet cement. Despite in pursuit of the woman wrecking his operation, the construction boss is careful to not disturb the pieces of the site he passes by, giving Sat a bit of distance to work with. The lively psychic spends the gap bolting over to a ladder to climb up to a set of scaffolding standing against a partially constructed wall; her lack of a second arm making the ascent somewhat slow and cumbersome. And seeing the site intruder having such difficulty rising up the ladder, Nova begins to conjure a concentration of nuclear power in the palm of his hand; a dose of radiation he casts after the lively psychic.

Using nothing but the command of her own psychic power, Sat has lines of wood root slither out from behind her dress to form a hard bark shell to coat her back; the thick oak shield tanking the radioactive blast for her. Despite feeling not one bit of nuclear power inflicted upon her, the lively psychic is still astonished when finding her makeshift shell left as nothing but sawdust from the blast alone; a strong warning to further cement how dangerous this man was as she frantically hurries up the ladder. Finally scaling to the top of the ladder, Satette hops onto the scaffolding suspended against the wall and darts across; all the while hearing the nuclear psychic tails after her

In fleeting from the construction manager pursing her, Satette finds another ladder waiting up ahead and starts to reaching out with the intent on scuttling right on up; soon retracting her grasp when recollecting how slow she was climbing up the first ladder. Rather than risk making herself an easy target struggling to climb up, the lively psychic instead zips right on by and darts straight towards the corner of the wall; a seemingly ineffectual bid in her escape as Nova again fires out a ray of toxic green at her. Yet when racing to the other end does Sat make a bounding leap towards the corner, planting her feet onto the wall and jumping right off to the length of scaffolding above her; narrowly evading the oncoming ray of radiation as it blasts against the corner.

From kicking off the corner of the wall and landing right onto the next set of scaffolding above, Sat continue to bolt across as the nuclear psychic below continues to give chase, all the while Nova pursues after. Its in the midst of hurrying across the wooden boards that Satette comes across a big iron wrench left littered in the middle of the way and casts a vine of ivy to wrap around the length of metal; tossing it right out and slinging it right back towards the construction boss like a Against the oncoming piece of steel flung straight at him, Nova catches the wrench right in the palm of his hand before clutching the line of greens of his lively intruder; the construction manager sending a deadly dose of radiation crawling across the vine and surging at the woman on the other end. Witnessing her string of healthy ivy withering away against the deadly green power, Sat is left with little choice but to severe the green vine with nothing but her own teeth, harshly gnawing on the ivy until it snaps in two. Having broken the irradiated tether just in the nick of time, Satette hurries down the other end of the scaffolding towards the ledge of the unfinished wall; the lively psychic left with little recourse against her nuclear nemesis chasing her but to risk it.

To the construction boss’s surprise, the lively psychic makes an all or nothing leap off the end of the scaffolding and right over the partially constructed wall; Satette peering down to find herself plummeting down towards nothing cold hard concrete. With what little sliver of living ivy and tree wood she had left to spare, the young woman combines them into a string of foliage she casts forth at an excavator left broken nearby; what weeds remained in its inner workings withered and dead. The other end of the natural rope wraps around the neck of the large vehicle and swings Satette right over the placed pieces of pavement, effectively sparing her from splattering onto the concrete. Her little close call lasts not that long however as the sliver of rope unexpectedly snaps in half, leaving her to her rough descend down back to ground level and tumble across the side of the site. Though left with a couple of mild scrapes, the young woman pulls herself up to find having made it out relatively alright; not a single broken bone or gash to be felt anywhere on her.

But her ordeal is nowhere near over as the doors to the building behind her are kicked open, with the nuclear psychic surrounding himself in a potent green aura as he steps out to continue pursuing after her. With no natural resources left to defend herself with, Satette’s only course of action is to flee from the chasing construction manager; the young woman darting towards the edge of the site blocked off by a picket fence. Approaching the piece of fencing, Sat springs towards one of the construction vehicles left parked close to a towering stack of cinder blocks; kicking herself off both the machine and the set of blocks back to back in rising to the top of the fencing, flipping right over the top of the tipped fence with but one graceful leap.

Hopping right over the picket fence, Satette lands within the backyard of one of the homes neighboring the construction site; the abysmal state of the lawn clear to see as making it all up is left rotted and dry away against the invading influence plaguing this slice of the suburbs. Even the few trees left standing in the middle of the yard left as a hollow shells of their former, flourishing selves. Good lord, this is way worse than I thought. There’s barely anything to work with here. Not a blade of grass or branch left alive anywhere in this yard to work my magic on. Just how long as that radioactive wretch been dosing this poor neighborhood in his radiation?

Yet their proves little time for Satette to ponder over this matter as the wooden picket fence behind her is suddenly blasted apart; the unexpected explosion sending the lively psychic tumbling across the backyard until hitting the side of the house. After pulling herself off the side of the suburban home, Sat gazes back to the smoke left from the blast; a sharp dread setting in as she watches the nuclear psychic stepping out from the clouds of dust. With little to no other sensible course of action for her to take, Satette bolts towards the edge of the abode and hurries down the side and to the front; all the while the construction manager behind her fiercely pursues after; every step he takes burning footsteps in ground he steps on.

“The mob kept me in this shitty pencil pushing job for 6 years, you know? All cause they wanted agents in some of the various industries.” Running across the side of the humble home, Nova plunges his radioactive fist into the buildings walls and tears through its very foundation; the wood crumbling apart against the nuclear psychic’s power. Chasing the young woman straight to the corner of the home, he scatters what pieces of the wall he had built up tearing through the side right at the fleeting intruder; every single chunk of wall shot out left covered in flesh burning radiation. Satette is swift against the thrown out collection of foundation coming at her from behind and throws herself behind a solid bark of a dead tree; though its branches brittle and stripped of leaves, wood proves as hard as ever. “Day in and day out, stuck with stacks of paperwork. Leading around a bunch of muscle headed idiots!” From behind the tree does Sat sprint off towards the house next door furthest from the construction site, hoping to build distance between her and her pursuing nuclear nemesis; the lively psychic swerving right around the home’s front porch.

The site construction boss feverishly after her, Sat leap right over chairs and sliding underneath tables as Nova fires out waves of deadly radiation at her; every blast eviscerating the outside furniture to splinters. “And what do I get from it all, what do I fucking get from the people at the top!?” Vaulting over the railing at the end of the porch, the lively psychic rolls across the yard and hurries towards the next house, frantically sprinting from home to home as quickly as she could away from the chasing construction boss; every abode she zips by, the color in the grass and plants begins to return. “Nothing, zilch, nada, Jackshit!” Its when around the sixth or so house that the lawns, tree’s, and other plant finally start to regain their vibrant color and health; this finally lending Satette an opportunity to stop running and start fighting.

Stamping down on the healthiest patch of grass she see’s, the lively psychic sends her natural green power surging throughout the front lawn just as her nuclear nemesis nears; the blades of grass coiling up through the legs of the construction boss like a bunch of snakes capturing their prey. Against this sudden snag, Nova unleashes a surge of radiation from his body which starts to erode away the enveloping blades of grass; the green strings reduced to withered straw in just mere moments. “Got you right where I want you!” the lively psychic exclaims. Those few meager moments are all Sat needs to race over towards the lawns tree and manipulate its thick, lively branches to all bend out and thrust out after her ensnared enemy; their gnarled pointed tips lunging after him like a host of hornets thrusting their stingers to that which disturbed their nest. Yet not even one of these branches would find their way impaling through the man’s body; for the nuclear psychic unleashes a powerful burst of radioactive energy so thick and potent, the tree’s limb are shriveled to frail sticks in the blink of an eye. This small, but intense wave of radiation saps the color and life of all it comes in contact with, every inch of foliage and insects in but a few yards surrounding the nuclear psychic left as nothing but as withered and lifeless gray husks; Satette left backing away in utter dread just being a few feet away from this terrible wave of intense radiation. his“I’m the reason those goons have any sway in the energy scene in the first place.” That inching retreat turns into a full blown sprint as she immediately starts to scurry away; Nova letting out a gnarled growl as he resumes pursuing her, declaring aloud how: “But once I get done microwaving your body like a cheap TV dinner and send it straight to them; they’ll finally have to promote me, and I can kick this fucking mind numbing bean counting position straight in the rectal passage. Hell, they might even make me a scion bringing you in. I can picture it now. Nova, the scion of plasma! Nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Dammit, I had no idea this crazed fruit loop powers were this intense; constantly flailing all that nuclear power like its a toy on Christmas day. I can’t just run away from this bastard now, he’ll turn this small slice of the suburbs into a fallout zone just looking for me. I can’t even get near this slicked back dip shit, let alone touch him; everything I try throwing at him, he just radiates away almost instantly. Meanwhile, he gets even one shot on me, and I might as well be thoroughly screwed. If the initial blast doesn’t kill me, the intense radiation poisoning will. There’s gotta be some way to break through this asshole’s radioactive defense and hit him right in his core.

But its while distracted pondering of a way to end this toxic manager that she fails to see the path ahead make a sudden descend and trips down a small grassy incline, fumbling down towards a big community garden filled with lush and healthy flower bushes. And its rolling down to the end of the hill that the someone ends up unknowingly stumbling right in her way, Sat involuntary rams into this poor unsuspecting late night garden goer as they both collapse to the ground. Shaking off the initial dizziness from the clumsy roll down, the lively psychic starts to pick herself up as she takes a gander over to who she had quite literally ran into, surprised to find it to be somebody she had came across into quite recently. Letting out a sickly moan lie the pale woman the lively psychic had ran into when she first arrived in this little humble suburb; her shirt and sweatpants dirtied with grass stains and patches of snot. Wow. No wonder your lil bro was so panicked; this is way worse then I thought. Don’t even look like you’re even all there. Her growing worry over this woman’s condition morphs into escalating panic when she catches site of glowing green peeking out from the top of the hill; Satette scoops up the sickly sister as she scurries over to a big mess of shrubs set on the side, delving deep into their thick brush to hide away from her approaching nuclear nemesis.

From the top of the small incline does Nova slide his way down to the bottom, intently glaring across the humble community garden for a single sign of his pursuit dwelling among the lovely assortments of planted flowers and shrubs. And coming to the bottom, he would find there to be a lot more foliage than he first saw atop the hill; almost half the block having been reserved for this lush and beautiful garden. No doubt it would take a painstaking eternity to uncover the woman he chases after, and that’s if she’s stupid enough to stay put; it’d be a no brainer to simply sneak away while busy digging somewhere else. Of course, posing as a construction manager for so long can teach you a couple of good tricks in scoping stuff out, and a sly mischievous grin cracks as he thinks of a way to apply that strategy here.

In the palm of his hands do sparks of deadly green aura ignite into a pulsing glow of intense radiation; a radioactive power so dense to cause an eerie low hum to echo across the garden. Once concentrating so much nuclear energy into a single point, Nova casts this mass of power as an intense toxic green wave to wash across a massive part of the community garden; the countless flowers and plants withering to colorless husk when struck by the deadly power. Every petal and every leaf strewn through these plants robbed of their vibrant life in but seconds, left so decrepit and irradiated as they simply fall off their dying stems and branches. Yet even with their lush natural coats stripped down and their now frail limbs exposed to the chilly night air, there sits not a sign of the girl he had pursued down here; not even a piece of charred remains to speak off.

His initial disappointment over his lack of discovery is shunted aside when he catches the sound of something falling behind him; the construction manager swiftly peering over to find it being nothing but a normal little boy having tripped against one of the branching roots littering the garden path. It was obvious from the kid’s distraught and frightened demeanor that he had caught Nova in the act of ravaging the community garden with his unnatural nuclear powers, attempting to sneak away quietly while still distracted. “Hey, kid. Let’s chat a bit.” the construction boss menacingly requests while turning to the child. Witnessing the young boy get up to try and escape, a dangerous green glow flares in the palm of Nova’s hands preparing to toss out the concentrated mass of nuclear power to snuff out the unexpected snooper.

Yet his efforts to silence the child are unexpectedly thwarted when the large bush beside him, left spared by the wave of life sapping radiation, suddenly lunges from its spot at the nuclear psychic; its dozen branches rapidly extending to out the construction boss right out from the community garden. The boy’s dreadful fear crack when witnessing among those branches being the young woman he had ran into while searching for his sickly sister just this morning; the limbs of the bush seeming to follow her command as they lash out against the man. He’s left watching in awe from the bizarre display as the pair careen across the neighborhood in almost superhero movie like fashion.

Its following off this brief and unbelievable moment that the kid’s eyes are drawn right to the base of the elongated bush, shocked to find his big sister laying behind the elongated roots. “Sharry!” the boy exclaims, rushing right over to the girl’s side. Awakening from her sickly slumber, the teenage girl shakes off her stupor and comes to the site of her little brother kneeling down to her; his worried glare being the first thing she notices. “Brent? What’s going on?” she asks, rising from the grass. “You wound up wondering out of the house and I had to go look for you. Y-You’re not gonna believe what I just saw. There was a…” he recounts, cutting himself off when gazing to the teenage girl. “A…what? What are you looking at? Is there something wrong with me?” “That’s the thing? You look fine. How do you feel?” Contrasting to her unkempt and stained pajama’s, the teen girl’s complexion stands vibrant and glistening; every evidence of her ever been ill vanished. “I feel…great. Better even.” “You were as pale as a ghost this morning and barely even awake. How is this possible!?” the boy questions.

Among hurdling right over the countless homes across the nightly neighborhood, Satette lashes out to her nuclear nemesis with a twig ripped off from the bush she launched at him with; a line of blood spitting out as the splintered end of the stick strikes against Nova’s face. Before the construction manager could lash back at the lively psychic, the two end up crashing straight through the roof of an evacuated home; the former residence now surrounded by several signs to deter entry and to warn of radiation.

When the clouds of dust and mold settle, Nova comes to and discovers himself standing right in the middle of a desolate and mildly run down living room left with messed up furnishings and stained floors; the dirty pictures framed across the wall depicting a vibrant and happy family. The poor condition of this home is not what baits the construction managers attention, for he instead is drawn to a small shadow retreating from the other side of hall door way; a detail he eagerly rushes towards the enigmatic shadow with a ball of nuclear power ready in his hand. But when leaping out to the other side of the corridor, his enthusiasm wavers when finding the shadow belong to nothing more than a meager rat; common vermin that simply scurries away from Nova’s appearance. Letting out a disgruntled snarl, the construction boss stalks his way down the hallway in search of wherever his lively pursuit may be dwelling; unaware of the woman he seeks peering at him from the cover of a cracked open door.

Retreating away from the other side of the door, Satette backs away into the small guest room she hides within; feeling a chill run down her spine as she bumps her back into the end of the wooden bed frame. Stepping up to the moonlight shining out the window, Sat looks over to a dirty vanity along the side of the room to realize how pale and ill she was starting to look; a literal reflection of how she feels on the inside. Oh damn. Its only been in me a few minutes and I’m already looking like a ghoul. Gotta pass this down soon, or toxic work management of the year prowling out there won’t be my only problem. This little stew just need one more ingredient before its delivered. To this end does the lively psychic then brings the splintered stick she had struck her foe in the face with to her own visage, the drips of blood scratched out from the bastard glistening against the moonlight. Without so much as any hint of hesitance does Satette slides her tongue across the small branch’s rugged bark to the drips of crimson staining its wood; smacking her lips as she gets a good taste of the scarlet liquid. Hmm, so that’s what iron deficiency tastes like.

Prowling out from the eerily quiet and baron hallway, the construction manager comes upon an odd site when entering the kitchen; the dinning table sitting in the middle littered with plates of food, having been left with partially eaten breakfast now covered in ants and bugs. Seems as if the family that had lived here recently had been forced to evacuate from the premises in quite the hurry, frantically enough to not even take one last bite of what was once a damn fine breakfast spread. But regardless of the mildly gnarly site left behind, Nova looks over the spoil spread of eggs, milk, gravy, and bacon and towards one of the cabinets standing on the other side; its door occasionally trembling from something dwelling within. The manager gathers radiation in his palm as he cautiously approaches the shut cabinet door, anticipating for the woman he searches for to spring out on the offense. Curling his fingers around the handle, Nova swiftly swings the cabinet open while aiming his radiation down to what may be inside. Yet what leaps out from within wasn’t what he thought it to be, fumbling back when a lonesome squirrel scurries out from inside and scampers down the hall he came from; the construction manager taking a disgruntled breath as he disperses the concentrated radiation from his hand.

As the squirrel scuttles down the rest of the hallway, it races right past one of the doors left cracked open, with the lively psychic peeking out from the other side of the bathroom. Need to get up close and personal to give out the special little surprise I got wrapped up for this slicked back dipstick, but it seems like he’s not gonna be falling for the sudden distraction tactic again anytime soon. If I try to rush him without some kind of protection, I’ll be cooked faster than a piece of bologna in the microwave. But everything I’ve thrown at him has just blasted away and crumbled into dust; there has to be something that can resist this dude’s toxic personality.

Glancing back into the very bathroom she hides inside, Sat suddenly spots a lone little cockroach crawling across the moldy tile floor; the little bug scurrying away and squeeze itself right underneath the door of the bathroom closet. Opening the door to that very closet is she taken aback when discover the astonishing site dwelling on the other side; an entire colony the pests scurrying across about every shelf within the small space, with some of them scattering out from their home now left exposed. To such a grotesque site that would make about anyone’s skin crawl, Satette rather ponders over this uncovered nest of terrible pests; the young lady snapping her fingers as she suddenly comes up with an interesting solution on countering the cancerous construction boss.

Cracking open one of the home’s many other doors, the construction boss barges his way through and is upset to find himself back into the living room that he had crashed into; pieces of wood and drywall falling out from the hole left in the ceiling. Nova is left a little more than frustrated over having wound up going in a circle; a seething growl escaping from his clenched teeth before he starts to conjure concentrated super radiation in the palms of his hands and shouts that: “This is starting to get irritating, okay. I got a ton of work to file for tomorrow, and I can’t spend all night playing this shitty game of cat and mouse, So quit jerking my dick around and drag your ass out here, before I make this entire house go supernova.”

The moment that Nova witnesses a figure charge at him from the other side of the living room, he fires a ray of nuclear energy upon them; a blast of which sends them tumbling back against the wall. Yet instead of staying down a sizzling under the lethal dose of fiery hot radiation just smacked upon them, the darkened figure instead immediately gets right back up to make another attempt lunge after the manager. Nova backs away as he fires out another blast of radiation against the encroaching foe; the strange being’s crawling skin tanking the blast as only little piece of its body fall apart. Seeing the lumbering terror holding the shape of a person continuing to near, failing to be quelled by sparks of his deadly green power, the construction boss focuses his power into both of his hands before clasping them together to unleash a wave of intense radiation. Taking the intense blow of radiation straight to the head, the strange wriggling figure is pushed back as the side of its head is stripped away; the construction boss watching the beast arise once more and his astonished what he discovers. Underneath the wriggling mass of darkness does he find the very same woman that he had been prowling for among this abandoned abode glaring back at him; the mass of bugs that had shielded her from his nuclear power reforming. “Are those fucking cockroaches!? You’re sick, woman!” “Not as sick as all the people you poisoned! Its time you get a dose of your own medicine.” the lively psychic deflects, charging after her nuclear nemesis.

The bug coated psychic of life continuing to lash out against him, the toxic manager makes a constant retreat from every single lunge that Satette swings at him, retaliating back at her with small and swift waves of radiation; every nuclear slash inflicted upon her tanked by the collection of cockroaches coating her body. Despite her veil of vermin shielding her from the deadly doses of radioactive energy that Nova repeatedly strikes at her with, pieces of Sat’s protective coat are stripped away from every blow; the dozens of cockroaches scalped off her left charred to a crisp against the pure nuclear assault. And it wasn’t long before the lively psychic’s armor of insects begins to thin and crumble, forcing Satette to compel what bugs remain to scuttle around and shield her from the more direct attacks; this development failing to deter her constant approach as she inches closer and closer to the site manager. Once finally closing in enough against the toxic construction boss, Satette thrust her only arm towards the man to drive the tip of a splintered twig right into him; Nova left flinching as the end of the stick digs straight into the front of his shoulder.

Yet this successful plunge past her nuclear nemesis's radioactive defenses fail to stop him from retaliating; Nova driving his fist right into the stomach of her armor before firing out a terrible blast of nuclear power upon her; the force of the blow powerful enough to send Satette careening right into the living room wall. Slamming against the side of the room hard enough to leave cracks behind in the wall, the lively psychic falls to the floor as the last of her coat of cockroaches scatter away and past around their countless charred brethren that litter the floor. What cockroaches he had fried loudly crunching underneath his feet, the toxic construction manager slowly approaches the lively psychic as he grabs the small stick that she had stabbed him with; Nova winching as he up heaves the twig out from his shoulder.

“Did you seriously think that a bunch of bugs and a damn stick would be enough to put a big shot in the making like me down. You have any idea who you’re dealing with here!?” the construction manager exclaims; reducing the twig to nothing but splinters in the palm of his hand. “I know exactly what you are. Just another loser with power who thinks they can trample down on all the little people and get away with it.” rebuttals Satette, glaring up to the nuclear psychic. The toxic construction boss can’t help but burst out laughing from her description, beaming a striking sinister smile down upon the woman as he proclaims how: “Welcome to the real world, sweetheart. The best things in life are for those who stamp down on whoever or whatever they can in their quest to the top of the food chain. From the most powerful politicians in the country, down to the smallest snot nosed brat winning an art contest; everyone does it in one point in their life. Scaling over the countless bodies of all the losers that litter the side of the mountain of life just for a chance to make it all the way to the top. Might sound nihilist, but hey, that’s the way the world turns.”

“But it doesn’t have to be.” Satette refutes, a deflection which deflates her nuclear nemesis wicked grin. “For every sociopath willing to step on others to get what they want, there’s countless other’s holding each other together. Even among the worst of times, people stand with each other in the face of life’s struggles and aspirations. If one of us falls, the others around them help pick us right up. Even if it means if they have to sacrifice their own sake for those they care for.” Speaking this words of inspiration does she think back to the old woman providing her well grown vegetables to the numerous protesters standing against the construction of the power plant threatening their homes. “From the frailest, all the way to the sturdiest pillars, every single piece of a community matters. The smallest of neighborhoods, the biggest of cities. A team of two, to an entire band of thousands. Even if its a small rag tag group of nobodies wanting to make a difference.” To proclaiming this is she reminded of all the people that she had stood by in the face of countless dangers and foes; Frida, Thursotte, Sunny, Tuesco, Monty, and Wedsle, their hopeful smiles solidified in her mind and fueling her determination. “We can stand with one another in the face of adversity. And its about time I remembered that.” “Tsk, yeah? Well let me show you where your cheesy little lesson about teamwork got you.” the radioactive manager offers, aiming his palm square against the young woman as sparks of radiation gather in his hand.

Even when these sparks of nuclear power swell into dangerous bellows of radioactive energy, Satette remains steadfast against the growing threat of this toxic power, Nova left puzzled upon seeing the lively psychic crack a smile of her own. Its when pondering of her positive outlook in the face of certain doom that he starts to notice his arm having lost its natural vibrant color; the radioactive manager disperses the power gathered in his hand to discover his skin left as pale and cold as a corpse. “What?” But its among his now colorless skin that he finds the veins underneath his skin swiftly beginning to darken; the discoloration running from up the that very same arm growing worse from underneath his short sleeved business shirt. “What the hell?” When ripping off the side of his shirt, Nova’s confusion escalates to dreadful panic upon finding the wound left on his shoulder having worsened; the flesh of his body rapidly decaying to the point of chunks falling right off his very bones like pieces of well cooked pork.

“What the fuck!? What the happening to me!? What did you fucking do!?” he shrieks to the woman. “I did exactly what I told you I would, and given you a dose of your own medicine. You’re about to pay for all the people and plants around here you’ve been poisoning; and all of it stemming from one of your victims.” Recollection the brief run in Satette had with the sickly sister back in the community garden, its revealed that while hiding under the cover of the shrubs that the lively psychic had taken the teenage girls ailment and had stowed it away in the temple of her own body. “That doesn’t make sense! My own radiation shouldn’t be effecting me at all! How the hell is it doing this to me!?” “I knew as it stood, that girl’s radiation poisoning wouldn’t do enough on you. So I had idea of modifying the little bug into a full blown virus, one that exclusively sought to devour a specific strand of DNA; all that I needed was just one little morsel to get it hooked.” Satette then thinks back to how she had slashed at her nuclear nemesis, drawing some drops of blood from the cut she had inflicted across his face; lathering the end of the bloodied stick with her own sickly saliva. “After my little pathogen gets done making a meal out of you, it should die out alongside the last of your wicked ambitions. The moment I got close and jammed that stick in your sorry shoulder, your death warrant was signed on the dotted line.”

“You…You goddamn cu-” the toxic construction boss curses, attempting to approach the lively psychic. But just taking a single step towards the young woman would have Nova suddenly fumble down onto the floor; his dreadful panic swelling into borderline horror upon looking back to witness a truly terrifying site; the manager’s leg having been so corroded as to split his foot away from his own leg. Oozing from the sleeve of his pants be the frothy sludge of his own flesh, melting off the joint of his very bones; a site that more than solidified his grizzly fate. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was meant to work my way up from the bottom, working undercover for the mob in this shitty pencil pushing job until I took my rightful place as the new scion. But to die here, to this fucking tree hugging bitch!?” he blathers as portions of his body melt onto the floor. “Sorry bud, seems like your contracts been terminated.” Driven to the brink of fury over his toppling situation, the radioactive manager thrust his partially melted hand straight at the woman who had set his demise; the bones of his fingers reflecting the glow of nuclear power that he conjures in his very palm. The lethal dose of radiation soon evaporates however, as Nova finally succumbs to the merciless hunger of the virus; the radioactive psychic that had brought terror and scourge to this little slice of suburbia left to sizzle in the broth of his own melting body.

This nuclear nightmare having been finally brought to a close, Satette lets out a deep sigh as she slumps against the living room wall; ultimately relieved that she had survived the highly infectious encounter largely unscathed. Holy shit. That was pretty rough. If I hadn’t thought of that whole virus trick, I’d have been cooked for sure. But I can’t lay back and relax just yet, not while there’s still one last bit of work to do.

From the dusk of twilight does the light of the morning sun break upon the city, shining upon both the tallest skyscrapers to the humblest of little homes. Yet on this day, along the edge of a humble inner city suburb, all stands quiet as dozens of onlookers gather; protesters, construction workers, and many others behold what stands in place of the power plant. From base to tip is every inch of the partially constructed building left entwined in blooming tree’s, flowers, and other lively foliage; enveloping the floors, the walls, and beams in lengths of living flora. The tree’s standing with bark abundantly thick, the flowers, so spread and vast. From in the middle of its dead brethren, this spontaneous garden stood tall in the middle of the source of its very blight; a display of nature trouncing upon its sickness. To the unexpected and almost miraculous display of nature do the protesters and neighbors alike all roar out together in a celebration; their gleeful cheer over the end of their plight echoing all across the suburbs. “Whelp. Guess this means the project is canceled. No amount of gardening tools can get through all that.” one of the workers declares. “I’m just worried how Nova’s gonna take this. He’s gonna be so pissed.” “Meh, who cares. The guy’s a fuckin prick.”

The outcry of triumph reverberating across the block and beyond, one such woman who hears this roaring cheer is none other than the one who nobody will know had steered the course of their livelihoods; the lively psychic having delivered them all from being driven from their homes in the face of the radioactive scourge. Expelling a long, loud yawn from her tired grin, Satette wonders out from the concrete walkway to approach the front of one of its humble homes, pulling out the glowing red key from her dress pocket. Coming upon the door to the home, Sat slides the psychic key right into the keyhole to transform the ordinary door into one to lead her back to the safe house.

She’s reaches out and is moments away from turning the knob, when the grasp of another suddenly clutches at her arm; Satette swift to back away from the hand, only to calm herself when finding that grasp belonging to their enigmatic informant donned in the mask of a famous children’s television show character. “Oh, right. I was supposed to find you. Sorry, just had to deal with a lot recently.” she apologizes. “I can tell. I’ve wanted so long to come see you again, especially with all you’ve been through. If only I could’ve come clean and comfort you earlier.” the mysterious masked informant laments. “Alright, wow. Leaning a little hard aren’t you?” “Well, what else do you want from me? Its been eating up inside thinking about what you must’ve been feeling all these months now, all that time we’ve been apart.” “Whoa easy, just…who the hell are you?” “Really? You haven’t figured out who I am yet? I can’t believe you didn’t put the pieces together by now, Satsy?” “Sat…Satsy…” the lively psychic utters.

Reaching to the silly mask used to cover their visage, the informant pries the veil of her anonymity away to present to Satette the woman underneath; her long brunette locks unfurling from underneath the hoodie as she’s finally able look upon the psychic she had so deeply yearned for with her naked jade eyes. Wells of emotion surge within every fiber of Sat’s being in beholding the informant’s caucasian visage; tears of swelling joy running down her cheeks as she recognizes the woman standing before as someone dearly beloved once thought lost. Satette, so shaken to her very core, that she can’t help but tremble as she whispers in hopeful disbelief: “Janna…”

#lillaxtrigger #original writing

0 notes

jdlopes777-blog · 11 months ago

Text

COULD THIS BE MY TIME ?

Today at this very moment , I find myself in a place I had for quite some time wandered off from ,

I realize as I say this I made once again the mistake to to think I was out of the woods and okay ,

I took my foot off the throttle , this throttle is the momentum I had built up to keep journeying on a better path , to greatness with a purpose

Back in July 2nd I didn’t see it coming and the strife begins once you take your eyes off the ONE ,

I took my eyes off HIM , the July 3rd came hard on me and my injuries became a distraction and a falling away ,

I healed , and it took July , August , September , October , November , & it started to take over again , the old things I thought I was free from ,

They come back and take over again . I begin to realize maybe this was my own strength, my own efforts to say that I was free frond the no date of this problem.

I turned 39 in December 12th , I had a bad day and went on not wanting to let anyone know when my birthday is.

I was very bitter that my boss , of tue establishment i serve did not acknowledge it , I was bitter that I see and know that I was the one getting the rough end of the stick.

I should have instead ask Jesus , to make a way instead of allowing my self to be poisoned by the bitterness within me to know and realize that the amount of work was not matching the compensation .

This I failed to realize that these are battles of the Lord , Jesus Christ. I subconsciously took these battles on my own.

So here I am now at the end of the tunnel. I lay in bed sick from my own problems , after all the chaos built up from being financially wrecked and not having nothing to show for it ,

I am a man who can’t provide for his own family , and struggling at 39 , I had 17 years of wasted time , but I come to realize this is the time it was gonna take for me to wake up , from the deep sleep of the great falling away that everyone is this world

Could be and will go through , what is important is that being made whole is what we all need , but we don’t know how to ask. I ask Him to heal me because I can’t do nothing for myself not even if my life depended on it.

Now i lay in my bed with the opportunity for a new perspective on live , a new fresh start , I don’t need to be going though this any longer.

I see the Lord , see me in my distress and He Once again , didn’t leave me to die in my struggle to turn things around. I cannot do anything apart from him.

I’m ready to get back up , I’m still laying down in bed , as soon as I post this , I AM GOING TO ARISE AMD WALK. I will get up and see the new path He has set out for me. I don’t know what it is but He has blessed me with the ability to GET UP and WALK.

Get up and walk by His Grace , Love and be forgiven. He finds no fault in me and He says Where are your accusers? ITS TIME TO GET UP , and walk.

Now I know and have to be made fully aware , things won’t be a easy but I HE IS WITH ME THROUGH IT ALL. It’s time to exercise FAITH.

Stay tuned for the next entry.

#don’t give up #from rags to riches in christ jesus #he is with me #he is with me through it all #I am not alone #jesus saves #he is my redeemer of my time #wake pray and slay

0 notes

absolutebl · 7 months ago

Text

This Week in BL - We Are Surprised

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

May 2024 Wk 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

Wandee Godday (Sat YT) ep 2 of 12 - Oh it’s fucking great. It could all go horribly south, of course. But it’s awesome at the moment. Messy gay and one of them is already pining? Got to love it. Including the negotiation.

I’d love a good sex negotiation, it’s almost as good as linguistic negotiation. This show makes me happy. All that said, it’s moving awfully quickly for a 12 episode run. Not sure what’s gonna happen on the backend.

My Stand-In (Thai Fri iQIYI) ep 3 of 12 eps - I’m still enjoying it but I’m ready for him to die again now.

We Are (Weds iQIYI) ep 5-6 of 16 - Toey is going after the Namgoong Award for Best Wingman this year, I see. And in exchange, literally all the rest of the friends are going to be his wingmen. It’s adorable. I also like that Phuwin got to be the aggressor for the first kiss. I like that this is mostly just boys flirting, and not really any prescribed seme/uke stuff. In general, I think these last two episodes I improved the show in my regard a lot. But then middles are always GMMTV's strong point, it’s whether they can stick the landing that’s an issue.

Two Worlds (Thurs iQIYI) ep 9 of 10 - Apparently we have the Frodo walking into Mordor episode. Also the sides were cute. In Thailand (like Taiwan) all gangsters are gay, apparently.

Only Boo! (Sun YouTube) ep 5 of 12 - It’s cute but very cringe and dorky. Silly singing. Terrible pickup lines. Still, that was a ridiculously charming confession.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Unknown (Taiwan Tues YouTube & Viki) ep 12fin - Oh so good. Very few shows that feature one-sided long-term pining of this kind can resolve the unevenness of that power dynamic into a more stable and equal footing with such class. We really got to see the object of the desire turn completely around and become equally besotted. An age gap, stepbrothers trope like this one is hard enough but at this length? Very well acted boys! Unknown managed to show the older brother softening in a believable way that’s pretty unusual in narratives of this type.

All in all?

Unknown is a wonderful BL with a pitch perfect portrayal of long term pining, age gap, and the stepbrothers trope. The acting and chemistry are ON POINT (especially from the leads) which made the resulting characters very believable. When it dwells in intimate family drama, it's stunning. It's slightly less successful when it leaves the home and goes gritty. It's few flaws are the result of curtailed length. It could have used more breathing room to deal with side plots, characters, and companion character development. The editing was occasionally choppy and packed with flashbacks that broke the emotional tension. Still, those are mere quibbles. This is an excellent show that I know I'm going to be recommending a lot. 9/10

Finally Taiwan hits another one out of the park.

About.

Damn.

Time.

Blue Boys (Korea Sat YouTube) 4 of ? - Oh it’s so good, and they are so tortured and it’s just charming and I can’t EVEN. I just love it. I love that Korea is giving us this right now. You’re an idiot if you’re not watching this show, it’s truly spectacular.

At 25:00 in Akasaka AKA 25 Ji Akasaka de (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 4 of 10 - Well well well Japan. I see how you kneed. I enjoyed this episode better than the first two, and I am way into our Bad Boy second lead. I can already feel myself succumbing to the syndrome. Next week = the obligatory onsen ep!

Living With Him AKA Kare no Iru Seikatsu (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 5 of 10 - Omg most adorbs failed linguistic negotiation.

Boys Be Brave AKA Roommates (Korea Thurs Viki) ep 5-6 of 8 - I love the side couple. It’s a shame we’re finally getting some truly great class conflict and it’s relegated to crumbs.

Love is like a Cat (Korea Mon Viki) eps 11-12fin - Well that was a waste of time. There was no connection (of any kind) between the leads. The language thing was hella weird and likely added to that. The past history of the Korean character was necessary to know from the start, its lack throughout, meant there was no depth to his character. They tried to tackle all the interesting stuff in the final 2 eps. AND they even killed the dog. I never thought I'd type this sentance, but Peach of Time is better.

I don’t know. 5/10 I guess

All in all:

A disappointing lackluster and barely cohesive BL about a jerk Thai actor (speaking Thai) who has to work for a Korean animal rescue cafe as a publicity stunt. It's difficult to believe the leads like each other, let alone fall in love. The acting is stiff, the characters lack motivation and cohesion, and there's not much to recommend this show beyond some pretty visuals. Also, they kill the dog. All in all, a disappointing and unsuccessful joint venture that mostly highlighted that between Thailand and Korea the style of BL, narrative approach, language cadence, and acting techniques all clash.

It's airing but...

Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school. Not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing.

You Made My Day (Thai YT) ep 1 of 5 - mini series staring the I Will Knock You couple Tar & Bom, started but I couldn't find it. I also didn't try very hard.

A Balloon's Landing (Taiwan movie) trailer - A frustrated Hong Kong writer, Tian Yu, meets a Taipei street gangster, Xiang (Fandy Fan from HIStory2: Crossing the Line), and the two of them embark on a journey to find the Bay of Vanishing Whales. Along the way, they discover unexpected twists and turns and close bonds, which brings out the message that "there is always someone like you in this world who is waiting for you. This released to cinemas in Taiwan, no word on international release.

Memory in the Letter (Thai WeTV) - it's done, tell me if I should bother?

Fan's Only Corner

Someone asked in a comment (which tumblr promptly ate) about group sleepovers in BLs. It's happened a few times but the only one I can recall being noted and particularly lovely (and VERY college) was in Nitiman. There's also one in Lovesick.

Next Week Looks Like This:

5/16 Blossom Campus (Korea Thurs Gaga & iQIYI) ep 1 of 6 - Strongberry doing classic uni BL! Weeee!

5/19 OMG Vampire (Thai Sun ????) ep 1 of 10 - LeeFrank are back - not unlike the undead (as it were). But how do we feel about it? Unsure given their track record.

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

May Releases

VBL (Taiwan) is releasing 4 'Special Episode' epilogues to their 4 2023 shows every Friday this month on Gagaoolala, Viki & Viu. Not sure on search terms or how to find these. (Or, frankly, if we need them.)

5/10 – You Are Mine

5/17 – VIP Only

5/24 – Stay By My Side

5/31 – Anti Reset

5/25 The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer - HoTae & DongHee are back but unfortunately not in a cinema near me. Side couple from Unintentional Love Story, same actors, same character names. I love them. I NEED TO SEE THIS.

5/28 My Biker 2 (Thai movie YT?) - trailer

5/31 The Time of Huannan (Taiwan movie) - May not be BL

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

LOVE a smile kiss. Love it. Two killer kisses from PondPhuwin. Elegantly done, boys. Thank you very much.

I love them a lot all of a sudden. (All We Are)

It's hard to give MaxTul a run on their crown as best bodies in BL, but boy these two are giving it their, erm, best. (Wandee Goodday)

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire

If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy.

209 notes · View notes

bisexualbumblebee-writes · 1 year ago

Text

The Insiders Chapter 7: The Rumble- Dally Winston x Tuesday Curtis

Word Count: 2.4k

April 17, 1965

The next afternoon Tuesday was sitting in her room, checking over the now healing injuries she bore for what must’ve been the hundredth time. A small frown settled on her face as her eyes followed her hand in the mirror, which was lifting to trace the fingerprints left on her neck. It would take a while for that to heal. As she continued to stare at her reflection she couldn’t help but sigh. This entire soc business was so difficult to deal with. And she had a feeling it would only get worse.

Thankfully her thoughts were cut short when the bedroom door opened. Tuesday looked into the mirror, realizing that it was Charlie who’d entered the room. She turned in her seat and laughed as she watched her friend lock the door.

“Hello to you too,” she greeted in a teasing tone. Her usually happy demeanor was stopped when the girl shushed her.

“Not too loud,” Charlie all but whisper yelled, hopping onto the bed. “We gotta talk.” That naturally piqued the girl’s interest, so she moved to sit beside Charlie.

“About?” Rather than immediately answer her, Charlie grabbed her bag and dumped out some clothes, bandages, and a few other things onto the bed. Tuesday stared at the items confusedly, then directed the look to her friend.

“We’re gonna rumble,” Charlie explained simply.

“Wait, what?” Tuesday asked in shock.

“I’ll teach you how to fight, we can go in disguise on a different route from the boys- it’s gonna rain, so nobody will know,” the girl continued with a shrug. Tuesday, however, was still hesitant.

“Char, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” she started slowly. “Dally said-“

“They’re bringing more people,” Charlie cut in. “We’re outnumbered, Tue.”

“How do you know that?”

“Don’t worry about that,” she responded, grabbing a pair of shorts and a jacket, holding them out to her. “Look, I’ll go on my own if you don’t want to go. Tuesday scoffed as she grabbed the clothes.

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m letting you go by yourself. We’re a team, alway have been and always will be.” Charlie offered her a cheeky grin.

“I knew you’d come around,” she said smugly, earning an eye roll from the girl as she changed.

“How are we gonna get past the guys?”

“Out your window,” answered Charlie as she changed into her own clothes. “We’ll take the back street through the park to the lot.” They got ready in silence until she finally spoke again.

“Do you want a blade? I mean, I’m not gonna use one but you might need one.” After a moment of thought Tuesday nodded, knowing she’d feel much better if she had one. Charlie nodded then tossed her blade to her friend.

“Don’t show it or someone will use theirs on you, and I don’t want to carry a casket this week,” she warned.

“Got it,” Tuesday nods after catching the blade with remarkable ease, shoving it safely into her pocket. Lightning struck across the sky as they finished getting ready. Tuesday set the excess bandages down then faced her friend.

“The guys will probably be leaving any minute, we need to hurry.” The girl nodded and opened the window, telling her to go. The duo climbed out the window one by one, and once they’d landed safely on the ground they began running towards the lot. As they stumbled through the mud and the rain they became hyper aware of the many soc cars heading in the same direction as them. For a moment fear overtook Tuesday when she managed to make out a familiar blue mustang passing by them. She almost stopped mid step, but instead took Charlie’s hand and continued on.

“Do you want to stop?” Charlie questioned over the rain, looking back at her as she squeezed her hand.

“No, we’re almost there!” She shouted back. “Just keep going!” After getting the confirmation they continued running until finally reaching the lot. Tim’s gang was already there, so it was easy for them to hide amongst the crowd when Darry drove up with the rest of the gang in the truck. For a moment Darry and Tim talked, the former thanking Tim for helping them out with the rumble, before a gaggle of cars lined up on the other side of the lot and socs poured out of them. Charlie had been right about being outnumbered, the socs were almost double the greasers.

Tuesday suddenly felt better about being there. Her gaze swept over each soc as they lined up in front of the greasers, freezing when her eyes met the dark eyes of none other than Sean Brown. A small smirk formed on his face, which scared her enough that Charlie noticed and took her hand, squeezing it to offer comfort. In the split second that Tuesday took to glance at her friend, the first punch was delivered to Tim, which began the rumble.

Tuesday stood in front of the unconscious body of Sean Brown, holding the very knife Charlie had given her. The blade was bloody though, matching the stab wound buried in Sean’s side. The wound likely wouldn’t kill him, but it was still enough to knock him down. She was still trying to process what she’d done, images of the moments before flashing in her mind as she stared at his insentient face, a shocked expression coating her own. Without even realizing it she dropped the knife and stepped back as her hands began to shake. Before she could do anything else she heard someone call her name.

“Tue!” They gasped out. Was that Dally? Her question was answered when Dally suddenly appeared in front of her, making her flinch in surprise.

“I-I didn’t mean t-to” she said quickly, voice shaking just as much as her hands, as tears began falling down her face without her noticing “I-I didn’t…” Dally’s brows furrowed, then he noticed Sean on the ground. He stared at him in horror as panic overtook him. If Tuesday was found near Sean she’d be arrested. He couldn’t let that happen. So, he faced her again.

“We gotta go before the cops come. Tue, we gotta go,” he muttered urgently, pulling at her arm. Tuesday, still in her shell shocked state, followed limply.

“He… He was gonna st-stab me Dally, I-I didn’t know what else to do,” she rambled, her own voice muffled in her ears.

“Shh- stop talking, run,” the boy demanded before finally giving up. Without another word he just picked her up and started to run. Usually Tuesday would protest the gesture, but she was too overwhelmed to do so. So, she instead stifled a sob and wrapped her arms around his neck as if he were some sort of lifeline.

“Where are we going?” She eventually got the sense to ask.

“Away, we need to clean you up, it needs to be like you were never here,” he answered, tone still urgent. “Who saw you?”

“I-I don’t know. Charlie was there and Sean saw me because he targeted me, but I don’t know who else could have seen. I don’t think anyone saw my blade.” Dally all but sighed in relief at the information, and he slowed down a bit.

“Okay, okay that’s good.”

“I-I really hadn’t meant to Dally. He was gonna get me if I didn’t get him first, that's the only reason I got my blade out,” she began rambling again, despite the fact that Dally already assumed all of that.

“I know, I know you didn’t,” he responded soothingly as he got closer to Buck’s. The girl sniffled, then sighed softly.

“I-I can walk Dal.” Dally laughed at that as he opened the door, and he knew that she’d be okay.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What is it with you carrying me everywhere?” She tried to joke.

“It’s my favorite pastime.”

“I can tell,” she retorted dryly as he carried her upstairs.

“I’m gonna draw you a bath, we’re gonna have to throw those clothes away, I don’t want anyone IDing you,” he informed her, earning a nod from the girl. Once they got to his room he set her down on the bed before walking to the connecting bathroom. While he drew the bath she gingerly slipped off her jacket, trying not to cringe at the now (mostly) dried blood that coated her hands like a stain. Just a moment later she heard the water shut off and Dally stepped into the room again.

“Bath is ready. Give me your clothes when you’re done, I’m gonna burn them.”

“Thank you” Tuesday responded quietly before slipping into the bathroom. After taking off her clothes she opened the door a crack and held them out, waiting for Dally to grab them before closing the door again. She stepped into the tub and scrubbed at her skin like never before. Her arms and hands were practically raw by the time she was done because every time she looked at them she could only see phantom blood. She jumped when she heard a knock on the door.

“Tue?” Dally called, which made her pause.

“Yeah?”

“You done?” He asked gently.

“Yeah, I’m about to get out.”

“I have some clothes for you,” the boy said as she stepped out of the tub. She drained it before wrapping a towel around herself before opening the door. The worried look on Dally’s face was enough to let her know that she didn’t look good. And it was true. Aside from the occasional cut or bruise from the rumble, the exhaustion that had been building since her parents died were finally beginning to show. Dally frowned at her state, then placed his hand on her cheek.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly.

“Do you want the truth?” She joked weakly, leaning into his touch a bit.

“I do,” he whispered, pulling her gently into his chest. Tuesday stayed still for a second before everything finally tipped over. She buried her head into his chest as sobs wracked her body.

“I’m so tired, Dally. I’m tired of it all,” she cried. The boy moved to the bed and sat the both of them down, rubbing her back.

“I know,” he whispered. “I know, you’re gonna be alright.” She just shook her head as she clutched onto him.

“I’m tired of the fights with Darry,” she continued. “I’m tired of having to pretend like everything is okay when I feel like I’m breaking on the inside, I’m tired of living in a town where I have to fear for my life every day just because of some stupid money status, I hate it. Nothing’s gonna change.”

“Let’s leave,” he says simply, surprising her. “We can go, we can leave a note and never turn back if that’s what you want, Tuesday, but I don’t think you actually want to leave. We gotta work with what we have.” He shook his head, which made the girl sigh sadly.

“I want nothing more than to just leave here. But I don’t know if I can just leave my brothers like that. I’m the one that mediates the fights, what happens if I leave?”

“What happens if you leave? Everyone would be devastated. There would be a hole in everyone’s heart. If we’re gonna leave I think we should at least say goodbye” he whispered, running his hand through her hair. Tuesday laughed. It was a sad and somewhat bitter laugh, and one that she’d never made before.

“I don’t really think they’d mind if I left. It’s one less mouth to feed anyway.” She knew that it was a lie. Darry, Soda and Pony all loved her more than life itself and she knew that they would be broken if she just left. But part of her still felt that way.

“That’s not true Tue, everyone adores you,” Dally argued with a frown, shaking his head afterwards.

“Have you considered the possibility that you’re just biased?” She half joked.

“Yes. I have. And then I realized I’m still right. Darry loves you so, so much, Pony needs you- Soda would go crazy without you around,” he shook his head again. “ I don’t even know what would happen to Charlie, she would be in cardiac arrest.”

“Charlie would probably track me down herself,” Tuesday agreed with a weak laugh.

“So it’s up to you, we can run away from here forever and never look back, but I want you to think of Charlie hunting you down, Darry sitting by the window waiting for you to hop over the fence, Ponyboy sleeping in your empty bed, and Soda pacing around the living room like he does when he gets upset,” he said, then pressed a kiss to her temple. “Once you think of that, make a decision and stick with it.” The girl teared up at the mental image Dally projected, then sighed softly.

“I hate it when you’re right,” she grumbled, crossing her arms. Dally smiled softly and ran his thumb across her forehead.

“We’ll spend the night here and I’ll take you back tomorrow, alright?”

“Okay,” she agreed before standing, realizing she was still in her towel. “I should probably get dressed.”

“Your call,” he joked. Tuesday shot him a sarcastic smile before heading back to the bathroom and changing.

“I’m glad you came to your senses, Tue,” Dally called as he laid back on the bed.

“Sometimes I just need to have a breakdown to come to them” she responded as she walked back into the room, now wearing the clothes he let her borrow.

“Funny way to do that.”

“Well, I hold in those types of emotions a lot,” she shrugged and walked to him. Dally held out an arm out for her.

“Well, I'm here to be your punching bag.” That made her laugh as she laid down, settling into his arms.

“I’m not in the habit of hurting people I love.”

“It happens sometimes and that’s okay, just like Darry, I do it too” he said calmly. “And I’m sorry for the times that I’ve done it, by the way. The only person I think wouldn’t hurt a fly is Soda.”Tuesday giggled.

“Yeah, Soda’s too sweet to hurt anyone unless it’s in a rumble,” she agreed. “And it’s okay by the way. We’ve known each other for years, so I know that’s just how you are.”

“I’m still sorry,” he shrugged before yawning. “We oughta sleep.” Tuesday nodded as exhaustion finally took over her. She laid her head on his chest.

“G’night Dally.” The boy kissed the top of her head with a small smile.

“Night, Tuesday.”

#the outsiders #the outsiders imagine #dally winston #dally winston imagine #dally winston x oc

1 note · View note

benvoliotheorphan · 2 years ago

Text

Thinking about The Ultimate Enemy again, gonna ramble some under the cut.

So like I know the show states that Dan is a fusion of Danny’s and Vlad’s ghost halves and it was “Vlad’s evil side” that turned Dan all murderous but like… if he’s a fusion between Danny and Vlad, why does the narrative not put more focus on the Vlad half? Up until the scene with Vlad, the narrative makes it clear that he is Danny but evil, and even after the revelation it is still primarily focused on him being a future Danny with little mention of Vlad’s influence.

Well I’m thinking (and feel free to disagree, this is just my rambling headcanon lol) that maybe that’s because he… essentially is just Danny. Like Phantom didn’t actually fuse with Plasmius, but rather… consumed him? Because okay, it’s a fairly popular headcanon that Vlad isn’t a true halfa like Danny, that he didn’t die to get his ghost powers so he’s more akin to a human with ghost-like abilities rather than actually half dead like Danny. Like the only reason he has power over Danny is because he’s been at it longer, but give Danny enough time and he’ll eventually outclass Vlad.

So maybe, when Phantom separated Vlad’s ghost form from his human form, it severely weakened Plasmius because Plasmius isn’t a fully form ghost. And since Phantom is essentially a fully formed ghost, he was able to overpower Plasmius and absorb him.

But… why? What did Phantom have to gain from that? Even if you disregard all of my headcanon talk, I was always confused by why Phantom would fuse with Plasmius, why he would separate Vlad’s human and ghost forms and do all that. Clearly there is something missing here, like it feels like Vlad was leaving out key elements of the story when he was explaining it to Danny.

My explanation/headcanon is that Phantom/Dan/Dark Danny did it for power. He wanted to become stronger and the best way to do that would be to consume the power of another ghost. And who better than one of his most bitter rivals? And that’s also why he ended up killing his human half, because what is a ghost but a soul wrapped up in an ectoplasm body? If his human half lives then he would always be missing half of his soul, so the human half had to go.

(This also ties into why Plasmius was so easy to overcome: Plasmius didn’t have half of Vlad’s soul, more like a quarter.)

The process of tricking Vlad into splitting his ghost half from his human half, turning around and doing the same to Vlad, absorbing Plasmius, and killing his human half, that all corrupted Dan and made his appearance change. Vlad’s evil half didn’t overwhelm Danny (either Vlad didn’t understand what was happening or in the decade after the incident his guilt and affection for Danny twisted his view on things), Danny very willing walked down that path himself. He planned it all out, because the world tore his family and friends away from him. They were gone, and he was going to make sure everyone suffered for it.

(And if you subscribe to the headcanon/theory that Clockwork purposefully made the TUE timeline as a way to scare Danny straight, then perhaps Dan’s ultimate goal was to become powerful enough to take Clockwork down.)

So, essentially, my headcanon on the TUE timeline is this: Vlad’s story was not the truth at all, and he was acting as a very unreliable narrator. The truth of it was that Danny, drowning in grief and rage at what had happened, planned it all out so he could become a full ghost powerful enough to make the world burn and feel his pain. He gave Vlad the sob story of wanting to make the pain go away, and the instant his ghost half was free he ripped Plasmius from Vlad and absorbed him. And instead of human Danny cowering in the corner, he either was still asleep or calmly accepted his fate as Dan killed him to ensure he was full ghost. And then, well, he destroys the world.

#talking to myself #does this make any sense?? idk #i have a lot of thoughts on tue #but they are just my thoughts and headcanons #people have very different takes on dan and his timeline and they’re awesome #just wanted to throw in my two cents

1 note · View note

imaginedreamwrite · 2 years ago

Note

Hesitant to ask, but the chaos part of me wants it.

Toxic Tues with SilverFox Ari and his Ice Princess

Your hands shake as you find the box.

The small cardboard box that should contain suppressants and birth control is a fake, its all a placebo meant to make you think you’re fine. It’s all in your head and while you thought you were fine, Ari has been steadily pumping his cum into your

“Shit…” you exhale, your throat constricting when you realize what you have, what’s in your hands.

“Honey I’m back,” his voice calls to you, his footsteps approaching and you find that you can’t quiet get the box back into the cupboard fast enough, “you found it.”

You jump at his voice, your eyes growing wide when you drop your gaze to the pill bottle in his hands, the implications startling you further. Pre-natal vitamins and folic acid combined, the destined necessities for pregnancy.

“Ari-“ you want to ask him if its right and if its true but you can’t get the words out.

“Surprise, sweetheart. We’re gonna have a baby.” Ari grinned, he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind you two. “Aren’t you excited?”

“The suppressants were placebos, the birth control…”

“I wasn’t going to lose you, Y/N. I wasn’t going to share your time with something that could break you.” He sets the bottle down before he crouches to meet your eye level.

“You’re a breathtaking skater, but you have better things to do.”

“I wanted pups but not now-“

“Yes now.” Ari spoke over you, settling his hand on your belly. “I’ve pumped enough seed into your fertile pussy, there’s no possible way for you not to be knocked up.”

“Ari please-“

“Shh.” He cuts you off and helps you stand. “Stop talking. Get on the bed and present for your alpha. We’re going to celebrate by fucking more into you.”

#toxic tuesday: Ari & Ice Princess #toxic tuesday

34 notes · View notes

ceruleanchillin · 3 years ago

Text

5 Day Stay

| Or, Angel down bad for a week |

Angel x F!Reader

Warnings: language, infidelity, Angst (?), lil bit chili spice at the end

Mon:

Angel felt he was too young to consistently feel so bone-tired, yet that’s how his day had been ending for weeks now. Sometimes it was all he could do to get off his bike and make it to the door, only to have to rest his head against it to prepare to make it to the couch and collapse.

Tonight was one of those nights, and he wanted to be dead to the world until it dragged him back into it.

It was the smell of mixed spices that hit him first. It felt like he was in suspended animation, and slowly being released as different things started to register to him.

His TV was on, someone was rummaging through his kitchen, and music played faintly from his desk. Thinking back to the last time an unwanted guest was in his kitchen, he placed a hand on the holstered knife fastened to his back.

The fridge door closed, and you appeared in the window, eyes focused intently on whatever you were cooking on the stove.

He exhaled, feeling like complete shit. It only spoke to how weary his mind was that he could forget you were staying with him for the next week. Especially after the conversation that led to it.

“I don’t know Angel…really I can afford a motel for a few days.”

“Here? Rusted-through pipes will be the last thing your landlord is worried about when you bring back bedbugs and shit.”

Your eyes had widened at that, but still you brought up the thing that had been chained to your hesitation. “I mean….do you think it’s ok to do this? After we…Nails..Ang-“

He remembered a flash of irritation, more so at himself than you, when you said that. “Yes querida, fuck. If you’re so scared, I most likely won’t even be there the way things are going. Nails is out of town til’ next weekend…”

“Relax Ignacio.” you had cut your eyes at him, and he’d felt his dick jump like it did whenever you gave him attitude. “I’m just not trying to be a problem.”

Your voice calling his name brought him to the present. He caught the last part of your statement, that you didn’t know he’d be back.

“Yeah, we got in earlier than expected.”

“While you’re standing there like a weirdo, let me shame you real quick. How does a man in his thirties still have the kitchen of a frat boy?” You leaned on the sill of the divider. “You’re lucky I already knew you were sad in the kitchen. I had to bring my own tagine.”

He stepped into the kitchen, his stomach coming alive with interest. “One, I don’t know what that is, two, I can’t help it if the kitchen isn’t my preferred room of work.”

He peeked over your shoulder, but the unique pot kept him from seeing what you were making.

“Neither is the bedroom, unless that work is piling up dirty laundry.” you stuck your tongue out at him and turned back to your simmering dish.

“Ha ha. Dinner and a show, she does it all folks!” he collapsed at the table, the day catching back up with him. “Should put your ass on the club’s payroll. End the cashflow problem real quick.”

You turned to him, concern etched on your face. “I heard from Hank about that…sorry. I know now isn’t a great time for that at all.”

Things got awkward like they always did when you referenced the recent changes of his life. He wasn’t sad about getting another chance at fatherhood, this one more tangible than the last. However, he wasn’t entirely sold on everything he’d accepted along with it, and he was pretty sure you at least suspected that. It threw the previously comfortable confusion that was your relationship off track when it was touched on.

“No, it’s not.” was all he could manage.

It was quiet for a beat, the simmering of the food and quiet Neo Soul the only sounds.

“Well,” you started, turning off the burner. “At least you don’t have to eat like a ‘we got food at the house’ meme for once.”

He laughed, a genuine and needed laugh. “Ok, you know what? Keep talking about my pantry stocking skills, and I might take it personally.”

The rest of his night went that way. Anytime you and Angel got together, things were just…easy…better. You spent the evening eating in front of the TV (Angel getting all the way to thirds for what turned out to be olive chicken and roasted potatoes), trading jokes, and going over the finer points of Golden Girls. Angel learned you took it very seriously, and mocked you for being “old”.

It wasn’t until you were nodding off, and he was left with his own thoughts, that he realized he hadn’t enjoyed coming home this much since he moved in.

Tues:

Angel had dreamed he’d been back in his childhood home, but as a grown man. There was music coming from his parent’s room, and when he got to the doorway, his mom was at her dressing table. She hummed along to the soulful seventies music and smiled at him from the mirror. She said something, but he couldn’t make it out, and woke up in the frustration.

He jerked up from his position on his stomach, and slowly came to. With a grunt he wiped his hand down his face, glancing at his phone to find it was six in the afternoon.

It then occurred to him the music wasn’t just in his dream, it was coming from his bathroom. He got off the couch and followed the sound.

“Hey coma head.” you grinned at him from where you were doing your makeup.

He shook his head, trying to let go of the last vestiges of the dream, and how eerie the scene before him was.

He focused instead on the nightmare of products and alien looking tools surrounding you.

He kind of liked the mess, even if he couldn’t see the counter anymore.

“Hey hurricane Ulta.”

You made a face that was a cross between being amused and suspicious. “You sleep in your jeans and buy your shirts in pack form. Don’t act like you know what that is.”

He made a face of mock offense. “That’s so classist.”

This time you paused completely in you what you were doing and twisted your body to meet him. “Uh oh…let me find out you’re actually learning something from EZ.”

“Angel Reyes can know something about something, damn.”

You laughed, lowering your hands from where you’d been lining your eyes to avoid a mistake. “I’m only teasing you Angel Reyes.”

“Looks like you plan on teasing more than me. Some clown is gonna get his hopes and tiny dick up for nothing.”

“There’s this new club in the city that Belinda’s getting us into. It’s bad luck to buy your own drinks on the first night at a new place.” you adjusted the bodycon mini-dress for emphasis. “You doing anything?”

“Club shit.” he started picking through the products, sniffing them every so often. “Then I think I’ve got a call with Nails at some point.”

“You think?” you popped his hands when he got too close to the good stuff, or the things you were using currently.

“Yeah..I think.” he shrugged, only realizing how short he sounded when you winced.

He didn’t know why he got so annoyed when she was brought up around you. He wasn’t like that with anyone else, and he knew you were only trying to support his incoming changes.

“Ok..”

Awkward silence settled in before he found the words to break it.

“Why do you wanna know? You want me to be that clown?”

“Never.” you pinched his cheek, tone pure saccharine jest.

He muttered in Spanish, stepping around you to the toilet.

“Angel!” you exclaimed.

“What?! It’s my bathroom, I have to piss.”

“You better never make me angry Reyes, I could end your whole Casanova game with ease."

Wed:

“You holding on a little tight there mami!” Angel called over his shoulder with a laugh. “You said go fast."

“Shut up!” you giggled, but he wasn’t lying.

You’d asked Angel to take you to work on his bike since even though you spent so much time with bikers, you hardly got to ride one. You were going to the same place anyways. He had been all too happy to shake up his commute, but your speed challenge took it over the top.

He didn’t know how you were up so early, he personally felt like the bags under his eyes were like a PEZ dispenser. You’d gotten in at two am, and still got up with him at eight.

He loved watching you in the morning, you managed to be cheerful without being obnoxious, and it worked better than coffee for him.

He loved how much he was learning about you.

As he pulled onto the street beside the cafe you’d asked him to stop at, he felt your arms uncoil from around him. He may have pretended to shift just to make you pause and hold him a few seconds longer, but he wasn’t going to acknowledge that.

“I didn’t scream, and I’m not shaking, so you still have to buy my breakfast.” You unclipped your helmet, grinning the whole time.

You looked so pretty to him, with the sun hitting your eyes and hair just right. He could catch you at just the right moment, and you’d look so gorgeous, he struggled to believe you were real.

He cleared his throat, afraid his voice would crack if he didn’t. “Fair enough, come break my pockets then.”

You laughed, squeezing his chin and pointing out his pout. “You don’t even have to tell me once sir, I know my worth.”

Once inside, he trailed after you to the counter, using your head like an arm rest when you reached it. “That’s good.”

“Boy!” You swatted his hand away, and it was his turn to laugh at your adorable pout.

“New bet,” he stepped around you while the customer ahead of you wrapped up. “If I get your entire order just right, you buy lunch.”

“Deal.” you leaned on the counter, eyebrow raised at him in challenge.

Angel knew the best part of his day would be watching your expression go from smug to shocked out of the corner of his eye. He nailed every pastry, the iced coffee, and their preparation with ease.

The simultaneously impressed and amused barista looked to you for confirmation. She got a shocked nod in response.

“I know my worth too mama, so don’t skimp on lunch.”

“Fair enough.” You shook off your shock as you repeated his earlier words and shrugged. “Can’t complain I guess. I trained my work husband too well.”

He scoffed loudly, and the two of you went back to swapping smart ass barbs while he tried to ignore the lingering dip his stomach did when referred to him as “husband”.

Thurs:

Angel was a grown man, with years of grown man experience, yet he was sitting on the edge of his bed feeling like a teenager again.

The end of your stay was nearing, and every time he thought about you going back home, he felt weird. He was pretty sure that’s why he’d been a little snappy and annoyed easily at the club the past couple days. He just wasn’t ready to delve into that too much.

Regardless, he had to admit you had some growing effect over him. All morning, while he should’ve been resting and preparing for a charter visit, he was fighting off hard-ons thanks to you.

“Can I borrow your kitchen for the day Angel?” He mimicked your voice in a nasally mocking tone. “I’ll save you some when I’m done baking.”

He’d thought nothing of it when you asked the night before. Really didn’t even feel like you had to at that point.

He realized why when he saw that the desserts you were making for your friend’s brunch were elaborate as hell. The effort took all your attention, and unfortunately for him, his too.

You were baking a lot more than dessert and didn’t even know it.

Now he was hiding in his room, fighting off arousal he knew wasn’t appropriate. You weren’t his and he wasn’t yours.

That didn’t change the fact that you in a short silk lounge set, singing in French (how the hell did you know French?), doing domestic things in his home, did it for him.

He ran a hand over his hair, still damp from his cold shower, and forced himself to finish getting dressed. He had to be ready to face a room of dangerous bikers and prove his patched in worth. He couldn’t be thinking of weird little fantasies and parallels to his parent’s marriage.

He must’ve zoned out again, because you startled him enough to almost make him hit his wardrobe.

“Oh my god Angel try this! I think I did magic.” You excitedly thrust a red cookie his way.

Angel took the offered treat, and found it was a red velvet cookie. “It’s fucking good mi dulce.”

“Really?” You looked so hopeful, so beautiful, that he would’ve lied if the situation called for it.

“Yes, but you know you kill it in the kitchen.” He turned away to put on the flannel he’d fished out.

Now you were in his personal space, smelling amazing, and all his senses were under attack. He couldn’t trust Angel jr. at the moment.

“Baking is different. It’s a whole thing for me...I go all in.”

“I noticed your little Broadway production in my kitchen.” He kneeled down, pretending to look for his shoes as something to do while you were there.

“Don’t shame me.” You pressed your foot into his back, gently pushing him. “It makes for better results.”

‘shit.’ He cursed mentally at the contact.

Luckily, he heard you turn to leave the room. “Oh, EZ said to tell you to hurry up or pick up your phone.”

He rose up once you were gone and checked his phone. Sure enough, he had several missed calls and texts from Gilly, Coco, and EZ. He cursed aloud this time and finished getting ready, determined not to get distracted again.

Of course, his boys having to physically come in and get him when he did just that destroyed that promise.

Fri:

It had come down to the last night of your stay with him, and what he thought was a favor to a good friend, turned out to be more for his benefit.

The hell with the club seemed so far away when he was home now, and he’d laughed more times that week than he had the previous few months total.

Tonight though… Tonight had him so in his head he didn’t know if he was coming or going.

You, sensing something was going on with him, had invited EZ and Felipe to dinner. He didn’t know how you got the latter to agree, his dad had never even been in his home before, but you did it. It went over a hell of a lot better than the last time they tried it too.

The missteps that reared their head when his family tried to talk to each other at length were mitigated by you. You were the perfect buffer, able to get them to engage with you and then each other.

He saw his family in an unfamiliar, but favorable light. His father was actually enjoying his time with him in his house. He knew that night wouldn’t have happened if not for you.

Now, as he distractedly dried the dishes you’d washed, listening to you hit all of the high notes in Loving You, it hit him.

‘She should be my wife’ the thought came so quick, and was so loud he almost jumped, confused if it came from him or someone else.

“Hey dishwasher-less!” you nudged him with your hip. “Move those hands.”

“Why can’t we be a thing?” he blurted.

You dropped the silverware you’d been washing, eyes wide and focused on him. “Um..excuse m-…what?”

He knew that wasn’t the most tactful way to introduce his thoughts to you, but it was his way. Fuck…he didn’t even understand them fully himself.

“You heard me querida,” he put the dish down on the counter, turning to you. “When I stayed with you that weekend that my head was all fucked up-“

“Angel.” your tone made it a warning, but he kept going. He was never afraid of a challenge.

“I was inside you so much that weekend I forgot that’s not how I came in this world. I can’t believe I’m saying it out loud, but I felt home cause I was with you-”

“Stop it!” you hit the sink, rattling the contents.

“Fuck that!” he shouted back, startling you both. He stayed silent for a moment before speaking in a calmer tone. “Fuck that. Why can’t we talk about it? Why couldn’t we talk about it then?”

You didn’t say anything, but he saw your chest heaving with adrenaline, and realized you were just as affected by the conversation as he was.

“You just decided it didn’t matter and put it in this space we can’t touch now. It’s all fucked up!”

“Because,” you hissed. “If you remember, it was all over that Adelita chick, and I don’t know what kind of hold she has or had over you, but it was deep.”

He cringed at that, and turned his attention to the light fixture over your head, unable to meet your heated gaze.

“Whatever feelings I have for you Angel, I put them away in a place where I can still be your friend and keep things in perspective.”

“Feelings you have for me?” he latched on to the lack of past tense, hopeful.

You inhaled sharply. “You are having a baby and just got engaged. What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing..I mean a lot, but nothing to do with this. I know-“

“I know,” you pushed away from the sink and reached up to cup his cheeks. “That you’re scared Angel. You’re scared, because you’re gonna take two steps you’ve never taken before at once, and you’re trying to sabotage it.”

He shook his head, taking your hands from his face and holding them tightly in his own. “No..mi dulce, no. I’ve been struggling with this all week, longer if I’m being honest. Tonight sealed it.”

You snorted humorlessly, looking around the kitchen as if something in the room would help you get through to him. “I cook you some big boy meals, and treat your speakers to some musical taste, and you’re ready for vows?”

“Don’t put this all on me. Tell me you don’t feel it. Right here and now, to my face.”

He watched your expression soften, and let you put one hand back on his face, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. “Ok, I can’t do that, but I also can’t just fall into a situation with you either.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “We both know we didn’t just fall into anything. We sat here and let it build and didn’t say shit, and now I have to. This week just made it too real not to.”

He placed his forehead to yours, his own hands cupping your face. “Please…”

He watched you have an internal battle by your changing features before you finally leaned into him. The moment you did, his lips were on yours.

He knew it was more than just a kiss a few seconds in. Everything he’d felt that the previous week was alive and confirmed between you too. He could feel you telling him you had moments like his own.

He palmed your thighs under your sundress before grasping them tightly and lifting you up. He placed you on the counter while you two separated for air. Your chests heaved in unison, and neither of you had to say you wanted the other touching you again before it happened.

He gripped your hair, tilting your head back for access to your neck. The smell of vanilla and cocoa butter surrounded him as he worked his mark all over your skin.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you pressed yourself against his jeans.

He hated he couldn’t feel the heat he knew was emitting from your core through the thick material of his jeans, and slid his other hand up your thigh to your panties.

Your entire body twitched when he ran his fingers over you through the thin cloth. It wasn’t just hot it was soaked.

“You need me that bad mami?” he pulled away from your neck, satisfied with his work, and beginning to work at his jeans.

“And quick.” you breathed into his ear, your tone and the sensation making him shudder.

The ache against his jeans didn’t need to be told twice to find its way into your heat. He slid your panties to side and pressed his thumb against you. You jumped, whimpering your need again, and he pulled your panties way from you.

You’d gotten them around one ankle before he was inside of you, and they were no longer your focus.

You clung to each other so tightly there’d be evidence on both of you.

In the quiet, he wondered if your mind was racing with the same thoughts that his was. What now? How do we get this again?

He pressed kisses to your cheek just as he started to move. You inhaled, your nails sliding down his back. Not quite catching the skin, but enough to set him on fire all the same.

He mapped out a rhythm by your whimpers and how you grasped at him until he crafted the right one.

This was the conversation he’d needed. Every thrust from him, every cry from you, every bit of give and take to heighten the other’s pleasure. The two of you were admitting that everything that was between you was deeper, realer than you’d wanted to admit. He loved you, and you loved him, and you were engraving that on one another.

The flirtation, the way you could be yourselves around each other, the heatless jabs. Good friends was always a ruse.

Your face was buried in his neck, and when he felt dampness he knew came from your tears, he hiked your legs higher, moving deeper.

You cried out so loudly it echoed in the kitchen, drowning out the soft crooning of an eighties songstress.

“I know baby, I feel it too.” his voice was choked by the threat of tears of his own.

He’d never been here before. Not with Adelita, not even close with Nails. He was terrified. Terrified for it to end because he never felt so good. Terrified for it to end because it might never happen again.

“Angel..” your voice sounded so small, but it was strong enough to anchor him back with you. “I’m close, I’m so close.”

“Let go,” he encouraged. “Let me have it querida.”

Your body seized up with your release, his name the only thing he caught in your unintelligible babble.

You clenched up repeatedly in the aftershocks, and that drug him over the edge with you, biting your shoulder.

His vision tunneled, pinpricks of pleasure traveling up and down his spine. Your hands smoothed up and down the area, and he realized it was because he was shuddering.

He gripped the counter for support, pulling back slowly. He was searching for a way to ask if he’d changed your mind, but the act hadn’t made words for his thoughts any easier to find.

It didn’t matter, before he could even speak you stopped him. Your eyes were glazed over with tears that had nothing to do with pleasure this time.

“That was all that I can give you Angel. It’s not right, none of this is, but it’s all I can give you.”

AN:

Am I the only one who wishes she had reference photos for their home/club layouts? Lol, it’s such a weird non-factor thing, but still. From memory, I’m pretty sure Angel only has one bedroom though.

No shade, no hate but this was partially inspired by how over Nails Angel looked when she was putting her back into it….🥴

I played with a few canon-timeline things + knocked the dust off my smut writing ability (I’m going under my humiliation rock now, no calls plz)

#angel reyes x reader #angel reyes #mayans mc #mayans imagine #reader insert

122 notes · View notes