#butterfly colors have meanings so what if doc likes butterflies

[vollerey]

his name is shhh and i want him to eat a happy meal IMMEDIATELY ‼️‼️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️ GIVE MY SILLY GOOBER A FUCKEING HAPPY MEAL NOWWW🗣️‼️🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

spoilers in tags

i really want doc to be super hyperfixated on stars and tell hushy hush shhh about them. “so that really bright star there is sirius..” if ykyk

or like, ring a wind chime by him and hes like “???” idk. i really headcanon my pookie doc as a wijd chime loving star obsessed goober snoober. and they explode whenever stars/space gets mentioned in a conversation.. just me?? sorry. im also heavily head canoning that doc just has fish.. maybe like a pond behind their apartment that they just visit every day. doc is disney princess coded AND U CANT TELL ME OTHERWISE ‼️‼️‼️‼️

[valiwrites]

hiiii, please can you do one where the readers a medical student and she makes marc bernal be her test subject for studying xxxxx

DOCTOR IN TRAINING

pairing: marc bernal x reader

type: fluff

warnings: none

MASTERLIST

<><><><><><>

“Marc, please,” you said, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. “I really need to practice before my exam, and you’re the only one I trust to help me.”

Marc, sitting across the couch with his long legs stretched out, looked at you skeptically. “What exactly does ‘practice’ mean? You’re not going to, like, dissect me, are you?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you grabbed your stethoscope from your bag. “No, drama queen. Just some simple stuff—like listening to your heartbeat, taking your blood pressure. You’ll survive, I promise.”

He groaned but stood up, towering over you as always. “Fine, but only because you asked so nicely,” he teased, leaning down to peck your forehead before sitting on the edge of the couch.

You bit back a smile, trying to focus on keeping things professional. “Okay, let’s start. Roll up your sleeve for me.”

Marc obliged, pulling up the sleeve of his hoodie to reveal his forearm. As you wrapped the blood pressure cuff around it, he smirked. “You’re taking this very seriously, aren’t you, doc?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to suppress a laugh. “I have to. This exam determines if I’m qualified to do this for real, you know. And stop calling me doc. It’s distracting.”

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

You pumped the cuff, listening intently as you measured his blood pressure. Marc sat there, uncharacteristically quiet, watching you with an amused smile as you jotted down the numbers.

“Okay, now your heart rate,” you said, grabbing your stethoscope.

Marc raised an eyebrow. “Do I take off my shirt for this part?”

Your cheeks burned instantly. “No! You can just lift it a little,” you stammered, avoiding his teasing gaze.

He chuckled but did as you asked, lifting his hoodie to reveal his toned chest. You ignored the butterflies in your stomach as you placed the stethoscope over his heart, listening closely.

“Am I dying?” he asked dramatically, making you roll your eyes.

“No, but you might be if you don’t stop talking,” you quipped, trying to hide your grin.

As you finished writing down the results, Marc tilted his head to look at you. “You’re really good at this, you know. Like, I can see how much you care about getting it right.”

You looked up at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “Thanks, Marc. That actually means a lot.”

He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. “Anything for my favorite future doctor,” he said, his voice soft and affectionate.

You laughed, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Okay, last test—reflexes. Sit back.”

Marc groaned dramatically, stretching out his long legs. “So bossy,” he muttered, earning a laugh from you.

As you tapped his knee with the reflex hammer, his leg jerked slightly, making him laugh. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, grinning.

By the time you finished, Marc was lying back on the couch, watching you pack up your tools with a lazy smile. “You’re going to pass with flying colors, you know that, right?”

“I hope so,” you said, sitting beside him. “Thanks for letting me practice on you. You were a very cooperative patient.”

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “Anything to help my girl. But you owe me dinner for all the emotional trauma I went through.”

You laughed, leaning up to kiss him softly. “Deal. Dinner’s on me.”

Marc grinned against your lips. “I’ll let you practice on me anytime if it means I get kisses and free food.”

“Noted,” you said with a smile, resting your head against his chest as he held you close.

Turns out, Marc wasn’t just the perfect test subject—he was also the perfect support system.

-------

[videovamptramp]

i swear i don’t remember who i was before you painted all my nights

wednesday addams x fem!reader

warnings: jealousy bc i’m a slut for jealous wednesday <3, minor unconsensual touching [some guy just puts his hand on ur back but still a warning], mutual pinning, wednesday being a bit of a softy for you

//

wednesday addams isn’t particularly good at saying how she feels. in fact, it’s very rare that wednesday feels anything at all. sure, she’s not a sociopath, but she doesn’t feel things like most girls her age do. though, when wednesday met you, there was a different feeling she’s never felt before. you showed up to nevermore in the winter; wearing a black oversized jacket, and a black mini dress (that left very little to the imagine), with a pair of black doc martens. you’re hair pushed behind your ears; your bangs— god, she couldn’t take her eyes off you. the first thing that attracted wednesday to you was the fact that you weren’t wearing any color. yet, when she saw you the next day wearing a pair of dark, distressed denim shorts, and a nude long sleeved crop top, it was surprising to herself that she still was attracted to you.

wednesday isn’t used to feeling any sort of attraction to anyone. in fact, she mostly feels nothing above tolerance for everyone around her. yet, as soon as you smiled at her, she knew she was screwed. insecurity was something wednesday rarely ever felt, yet she couldn’t bring herself to approach you. though, she didn’t have to worry about that, because you approached her on the second day of you being here, complimenting her doc martens and her hair. she blurts out a blunt thank you, and the blush coating her cheeks causes you to smile. you immediately take a liking to wednesday; her grumpy attitude, and her all black clothing… she was absolutely beautiful.

it doesn’t take long for you and wednesday to start hanging out nonstop. you’re always either in her and enid’s room (watching her type away on her typewriter), or you’re hanging with her under the large oak tree. the best part is, wednesday doesn’t care about you talking her ear off. she listens to every word you say, and she remembers every detail about you. one day, after you and wednesday had been friends for a month, you lay your head in her lap as she sits under the tree with you in the grass. she looks down at you, catching your wide eyed gaze. you’re staring at her with a look of pure adoration, and wednesday can feel her heart flutter in her chest.

you reach up, and take the hair ties off of her to braids, and wednesday furrows her brows as you sit up slightly in order to undo her braids. your eyes are sparkling as her wavy raven hair falls free, she feels a wave of panic wash over her. she’s never let anyone touch her hair. yet, here she is getting lost in your giant eyes, “your hair is beautiful. you’re beautiful.” you admit, and you blush as you look away. “quanto sei innegabilmente dolce (how undeniably sweet you are).” wednesday says simply, and you feel your stomach flutter with butterflies. “what does that mean?” you ask shyly, and she doesn’t respond, the blood rising to her cheeks.

“what are you two up to?!” enid asks excitedly as she bounces up to you two. wednesday looks up, glaring at her roommate. “ooo your hair looks so pretty!” enid adds, and you smile. “see. i told you.” you wink at wednesday, and her face feels as if it’s on fire. wednesday doesn’t know what might’ve happened if enid hadn’t interrupted that evening, but she wishes she did. you two continue to have moments as the months go on; not enough for you to say something about it, but certainly enough to make the butterflies in your belly repopulate at a rapid pace.

you two seem to develop a routine; every day after school you two would be conjoined at the hip. you were always looking for her everywhere, and no matter where she went, you were by her side. it didn’t take long for people to catch on. enid especially; she would always gush about how cute you two were, and how cute you two would be together. it made you blush ferociously every time. the truth was, you had so many feelings for wednesday, but you had no idea how she felt about you. there were moments where you’d think you’d know, but they were never enough to know for sure.

wednesday sighs in frustration as she watches you stare at yourself in the full length mirror of your shared room with yoko. you have changed your outfit three times, and each time you come out looking more beautiful than the last, yet you still were unsatisfied. “i think maybe i should wear the short shorts instead—“ you try to finish your sentence, but as you turn around wednesday is standing directly behind you. you’re face to face. “why are you changing so many times? you look fine in this.” she says, eyeing the shoulderless romper you’re wearing. it was extremely short, and she had been staring at your backside since you’ve walked out.

“i just… i want to look good at this party, and i don’t feel pretty enough in anything i own.” you confess, and wednesday scowls. “that’s the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard. you look pretty in everything.” she blurts out simply. your cheeks turn the cutest shade of pink that wednesday has ever seen, and her own cheeks heat up. you blink a few times, “y—you think i look pretty?” you ask timidly, and wednesday rolls her eyes. “i think you always look pretty.” she retorts in a truthful manner. you tuck a strand of your perfectly curled hair behind your ear as you glance down at the converse you’re wearing. “i think you always look pretty too, wednesday.” you confess, and she feels something strange in her stomach. as if her organs are about to burst inside of her. you look into her eyes, and it’s like time stops.

yoko bursts through the door, interrupting and causing wednesday to turn her head, shooting daggers at the taller girl with her eyes. “oh you look hot! you should totally wear that brown fur coat you have with that.” yoko says, and you smirk as you reach for the coat that was already on the back of the desk chair. “great minds think alike.” you wink at your roommate and she laughs. “you coming this time wednesday?” yoko questions, and wednesday rolls her eyes. “i would much rather die than go to a place full of intoxicated heathens.” she states, and you flash her the biggest puppy eyes on the planet. “but you have to come! it’s my first party since i moved here, and i want my favorite person there with me.” you pout, and wednesday can feel her heart rate picking up.

she’s your favorite person. there’s a sense of pride that washes over her due to the revelation. “very well. i’ll go. but only because you asked me to, now stop looking at me like that.” she commands, and you immediately light up, smiling widely as you squeal. you pull her into a tight hug that lasts two seconds before you gasp and remember how much wednesday hates physical contact. “i’m sorry! i got too excited.” you apologize as you pull away. wednesday has a serious look on her face, “you may embrace me whenever you’d like. my rules do not apply to you.” she clarifies, and yoko’s eyes go as wide as saucers. “in that case… i want another one right now.” you admit, and wednesday’s cheeks turn crimson red as you wrap your arms around her again. the smell of your girly perfume and mint shampoo filling her senses in the best way. her heart is pounding, and she wonders if you can feel it.

“ugh! can you guys please stop being so disgustingly cute? i want to actually go to the party and see how hot divina looks, not sit here and watch you two flirt.” she comments seriously, and you pull away, a deep scarlet coated flush on your nose and cheek bones. “sorry, ko. i can’t help it, have you seen her?” you ask, gesturing towards wednesday who looked as if she were mentally about to combust. yoko laughs wildly at the shorter girls expression, “i think you broke her.” your roommate determines, and you giggle as you put your coat on. you eye wednesday who’s wearing a large black coat, zipped up and hiding the outfit she was wearing underneath. her fishnets compliment her docs perfectly, and her hair was done in her usual two braids. you couldn’t help but think she looks completely gorgeous as usual.

“we’re ready. come on, cutie.” you declare as you reach for wednesday’s hand, but pause midway. “may i hold your hand, wednesday?” you ask hopefully, and your eyes are optimistic, her heart is staggering. “yes.” she answers, and you interlock your fingers with hers, and her skin sparks at the touch. you begin leading her to the door where yoko was standing, and she gets lost in her thoughts about you as you and yoko begin conversation. “enid just left with ajax after we finished getting ready. she told me to come get you.” yoko explains as you all walk out of the bedroom. “are you excited for your first nevermore party?” yoko inquires eagerly, and you nod enthusiastically, “yes! back in my city our parties always got a little too crazy. i’m hoping that isn’t the case here.” you reveal, and yoko giggles. “you’re partying with a bunch of teenage, supernatural, hormonal beings. it’s bound to get a little crazy.” your roommate reveals, and you laugh.

“well at least i’ll have you there with me.” you tell wednesday, and the blood rises to her face for the dozenth time this evening. “i’m only going because of you.” wednesday grumbles, making you smile widely. “i need you there!” you admit, and wednesday rolls her eyes, feigning annoyance as you all walk away from the school and into the woods. it only takes about ten minutes to get there, and as soon as you do you can hear the music and see a bunch of students from school dancing and mingling. “hey yoko! over here!” divina calls out, and yoko’s face turns osy pink as she looks over at you and wednesday. “i’m gonna go talk to divina. i’ll be back.” the taller girl says, and you smirk, nodding at your friend whilst also knowing she probably won’t be back anytime soon.

wednesday glances around, her upper lip curling up in disdain. she hates parties. though when she looks at you, you’re looking at her with a soft smile. “don’t worry, we can make an escape after drinking a bit of the punch, okay?” you suggest, and wednesday looks at you in confusion. “you want to leave early? why? i thought you wanted to be here.” wednesday states, and you shrug. “i honestly just wanted to see you at a party. i thought it would be fairly entertaining. but i mostly just wanted to hang out with you.” you reveal shyly, and wednesday swears her heart might beat out of her chest. she stares into your eyes, and finds no ounce of dishonesty. she opens her mouth to respond, but enid interrupts before she can get any words out. “hey guys!” the blonde exclaims, and your smile lights up the entire forest, wednesday thinks. “hey e! this is really cute. i love the lights.” you say as you look around at all the hanging lights on trees. “thanks! xavier and ajax helped with the lights!” enid explains, and you smile.

“well it turned out awesome!” you respond just as cheerfully as the blonde. wednesday scowls. your roommates are continuously interrupting potential moments with you for her, and it was starting to frustrate the shorter girl to no end. enid shifts her gaze in order to look at wednesday, smirking at her, “i knew you’d show up! you’ve been secretly dying to see how fun these parties are!“ enid declares, and wednesday flashes her a murderous expression, “i came for y/n.” wednesday says simply, and your heart rate speeds up a bit as she admits it so casually. god, she has you feeling crazy. “you guys are so cute!” enid practically fawns over you two and you look down at your shoes and smile sheepishly.

“use that word associated with me again, and you’ll have to sleep with one eye open.” the raven haired girl states seriously, and you giggle. “you are a cutie though. i’ll go get us some drinks! try not to threaten enid anymore until i come back.” you joke, and before wednesday can follow you, you’re making your way past a hoard of students and towards the portable drink cooler. enid smirks as she watches wednesday’s gaze never leave you. “so, are you finally going to make a move tonight?” enid asks her roommate, causing wednesday to turn around and shoot the slightly taller girl a deadly glower with her eyes.

“what are you going on about now?” wednesday asks, and enid shrugs. “i’m just saying, tonight would be a perfect time to make a move on her. you know… kiss her, or maybe tell her how you feel.” the blonde elaborates, and wednesday sucks in a sharp breath. “how i feel?” she questions uncertainly, and enid flashes her a look that says “are you serious”. wednesday looks over at you, and she sees you’re now speaking to one of the lacrosse players. what she doesn’t realize is the boy drunkenly started speaking to you after seeing how short your romper was. wednesday can’t tell you’re being polite out of nervousness, not because you actually want to speak with this boy.

the look on wednesday’s face is unrecognizable; she usually looks as if she wants to hurt someone, but the way she’s looking at this boy… it genuinely scares enid. “why is he standing so close to her? and why is she laughing at what he’s saying? does she know him?” wednesday begins to ask a number of questions, and enid shakes her head. “that’s jeremy from the lacrosse team. i have second period with him… i don’t think y/n’s ever spoken to him a day in her life.” enid explains, and wednesday’s belly burns as she witnesses him place his hand on your lower back, making her fists clench. enid can see the uncomfortable expression on your face, and you glance over at wednesday, who is too busy burning holes in this guys side profile to notice the look you’re giving her.

“you should go save your girl. now.” enid insists as she pushes wednesday in your direction. wednesday stalks over to you, and your eyes light up at the grumpy girls presence. “if you want to keep that hand i suggest you take it off her. now.” wednesday interrupts you both, and jeremy’s annoying smile falls. he pulls his hand away from you, and looks at wednesday who is giving him the death stare. “what do you want wednesday? isn’t this place a little outside of your scene?” he asks, “wouldn’t you have more fun at the cemetery? or the morgue?” he snickers at his own joke and you feel your blood boil.

“and wouldn’t you have more fun talking to someone who actually wants to talk to you? because if you couldn’t tell, i don’t. i came with wednesday, and i’d like to keep it that way.” you say certainly, and jeremy’s face falls. you see rage flicker in his eyes for a second, before he calms down. “whatever. you’re not even that hot anyways. have fun with your goth girlfriend, bitch.” he hisses as he tries to walk away, but wednesday trips him, causing him to fall on the ground with a loud “oof”.b he tries to stand up but wednesday pushes him down onto his back easily. he looks up at, his face full of shock and confusion, but the small amount of fear in his eyes is what gets wednesday’s blood rushing as a type of anger that she’s never felt hits her like a tsunami. “i’m only going to say this once, and never again, so i suggest you tell your friends and anyone else who will listen… y/n is mine and if i ever see your grubby hands anywhere near her, i will cut them off. where do you think i got thing from?” she asks him, as she towers over him, and his eyes well up with fear as soon she lifts her boot to step on his chest with just enough pressure to keep him down.

“do you understand me, or shall i threaten you in cave man so your tiny brain can comprehend?” she repeats, and you feel your mouth go dry as you stare at her with a look of shock. your blood is scorching, and jeremy nods rapidly before wednesday removes her boot off his chest. as soon as she allows him to get up, he scurries away. your cheeks are on fire, and you notice a crowd of students staring at you both, watching the scene unfold with interest. “wednesday—“ you start but as soon as she notices the way people are staring, she glares at you. “this is exactly why i don’t come to parties.” she hisses and you frown as she begins to walk away.

“wednesday wait!” you try as you rush to catch up with her while she storms away from the crowded area. she walks faster in order to get away from you, and you huff, “you can’t seriously be upset at me about that! i didn’t do anything!“ you exclaim and wednesday comes to a terse halt, nearly causing you to bump into her. she turns around and looks at you, as if she’s seeing right into your soul. you’re stood in place, your arms folded over your chest and the clouds of each of your breaths is the only thing between you two. “exactly, you didn’t do anything! except laugh at his stupid jokes and allow him to touch you!” she expresses angrily, and you offer her a look of disbelief.

“i allowed him to do no such thing! he just touched me, wednesday. i didn’t know how to react so i laughed! it’s a nervous thing!” you raise your voice and she opens her mouth to say something, but before she can, you continue. “and if you would have taken your eyes off him for two seconds, you would have noticed that i was signaling for you the entire time.” you add, and wednesday purses her lips. “i should go back and cut his fingers off.” she tries to sound blunt, trying her hardest to hide the absolute rage she feels, but you can hear it clear as day. you sigh, shaking your head. “it’s okay. i mean, it’s not okay, but if i had you cut off every persons finger who’s touched me without my permission… well, you’d have a whole collection of fingers.” you joke, and wednesday stares at you.

“i want to be the only person on this awful planet who is allowed to touch you. with your permission of course.” wednesday confesses, and time stands still for a moment as wednesday looks at you. “you always have permission. you’re my wednesday.” you tell her gently as you reach for her hand. you play with her fingers, keeping your gaze on her rings and causing her breath to hitch as you do so. “did you mean what you said to jeremy? that i’m yours?” you ask gently as your eyes wander to hers, “yes… i know i’m not very well with emotions, but when i’m around you, i feel as though my wretched heart is trying to claw its way out of my chest and right into your hands. i want you to be mine. mine to touch. mine to kiss. mine to cherish. you deserve be loved properly. i could love you properly.” wednesday’s words cause your heart to palpitate rapidly, and wednesday glances down at your lips for a moment, before meeting your soft eyes again.

“i’m already yours wednesday.” you assure her certainly. she’s searching your face for any signs of dishonesty, and you’re staring back at her intently. “kiss me.” you insist, your hand still playing with hers, and she doesn’t think twice before she leans in and places a soft kiss on your lips. though it’s short, you still feel a burning sensation against your mouth, and your heart is nearly racing out of your chest. “again.” you request, and she kisses you again, this time longer. the butterflies in your belly erupt, as if they’re repopulating inside of you. when she pulls away, her cheeks are crimson red and her eyes are staring into your soul.

“that was… nice.” she states simply, and you smile widely, knowing that was a very good compliment coming from wednesday addams. “it was. we should do it again.” you tease, your cheeks flushing pink, and she stands up straight, interlocking her fingers with yours. “how about now?” she asks you, and you giggle, leaning in and placing a kiss on her cheek. “let’s go back to your room. we can watch frankenstein, and you can kiss me as much as you please.” you suggest, and wednesday can feel all of the puzzle pieces of her heart clicking into place as you begin to lead her in the direction of the boarding school.

//

a/n: i can’t believe some of you actually liked my last wednesday x fem reader fic 🥺 i’m going to start uploading more on here!!

[amethystfairy1]

Ttsbc glamor, I have a few different questions about it because it's something very cool

What is the weakest type of species that has glamor? I know it changes depending on the person, like Tango glamor being weaker compared to the average blazeborn, but on average, who has the weakest glamor?

Can you change the speed at how fast you can shoot glamor out of your hands? We know it can be shot as fast lighting bullets to play tag, and they can be normal bullets.

Can you change the size of the bullet of glamor you shoot (I'm going to assume you can but still)

Can you slowly release glamor, so it's like a trail? Kinda like when Disney Channel will take the magic wand and draw micky mouses head, then it will show up ?? (Or like produce fireworks type of design in the air using glamor?

Can you shoot glamor using other body parts besides your hands? (For example, your eyes or your toes?)

When glamor releases from the hand outwards, does that glamor slowly fade as it goes through the air, or does it stay the same strength until it hits impact with something? Also, what happens once the bolt of glamor hits something? Does it hit the object and splat, then fade, or does it hit like a bullet, and the impact will slow it down, then it fades out?

Does glamor leave marks? Like, I think you said it can leave bruises and stuff, but do the bruises look a little different than normal? (If your glamor malfunctions and you try and shoot it out, can you bruise your fingers?)

When you use glamor to hide body parts that don't want to be seen does it fade from top to bottem, bottem to top, fades everything at the same time or does it not fade at all and it just disappears like it was never there?

Why does the under city only have glamor and the over city doesn't? I know that the under city finds it important but what did they do for it to happen??

One last question about glamor (hopefully) if a human is holding a hybrid/mutant hand, can that human use their glamor?

I hope these questions made sense (I tend to get sidetracked while writing asks this long), but I wish you well, and I hope you have an amazing day/night/eve!

(One last extra question!)

Did the old main lab scientist from the under city work with the over city? Like the under city does the experiments to keep over city out of trouble and the over city gives them the stuff they need to do the bio technology and they trade out information??

Questions questions questions...

I took awhile to answer this because I wanted to think about it and make sure the answers all lined up and made sense! If I'm vague anywhere keep in mind I do still plan to expand on some of these worldbuildy bits in the stories themselves so I don't wanna spoil everything! 😆

There isn't just one specific subspecies that's much weaker than others, it's more that there's certain subspecies who are particularly good with glamor (blaze-borns, voidwalkers, mushroom mutants) and everyone else hangs around an average. Some subspecies have special skills to do with glamor that are unique to them though! Blaze-borns manipulated fire, avians and butterfly hybrids manipulating weight, that sort of thing...also keep in mind because glamor can't pass through inorganic material people like Doc or Cleo who have large parts of their bodies replaced with augmentations can't use glamor very well!

I mean, I'm sure they could change the density of the glamor bullet and therefore change the speed!

Yes, if you're skilled enough with glamor (like Grian) you can most certainly manipulate the size/affect/color of your glamor! But that's a skill that's on the upper end of glamor ability, Grian is uniquely very very talented with the stuff!

Again, if you're talented enough, have enough glamor, and you've practiced that particular skill, sure you could!

Yes! Once more, it's a talent + practice scenario! It's easiest to use glamor with your hands or fingertips because...I mean, that's where you'd be the most coordinated, but if you wanted to fire from another part of your body you could if you had enough glamor and practiced that specific skill!

Depends on the shooter and what they were trying to do! Grian's bullets as Cute Guy make impact like paintballs! Again though it's the talent + skill + practice scenario, glamor is very versatile and malleable if you've got enough of it and practice a lot!

If a glamor bullet strikes someone it'll leave a bruise like a paintball would! It's the same as any old bruise, the size and how bad it is depends on how powerful the glamor bullet!

It's like heat haze on tarmac! That's my favorite way of describing it in the stories anyway. I also often say that it's like fog growing denser and then turning clear. So basically the haze of glamor, which is tinted the persons natural glamor color, fogs over whatever they want to hide and then fades away, and the thing they wanted to hide won't be visible anymore!

They just have it! They didn't do anything, they've just always had it as long as anyone can remember! It's a trait unique to hybrids/mutants!

Nope! Humans can't use glamor! Hybrids can use their glamor to affect humans, see Jimmy concealing Scott when they went to the under-city together or Grian shooting human criminals with glamor bullets to knock them out, but humans cannot use glamor, no matter what!

No problem! It's neat to try and pick apart the power system a bit, and I want to make it clear that glamor is also something of a catch-all term for powers in the under-city. Tango being able to light things on fire is considered glamor. Shelby's glowing mushroom cap is considered glamor. Voidwalkers purple particles are considered glamor. It's not something that has a super solid set of rules because everyone learns to manipulate it in their own way to suit their needs!

The example I've given before is athletics...if you train super super super hard at a sport, you're going to get quite skilled at it, but you'll always be held back by your physical capabilities. By talent + practice + skill I mean that you need to be born with the capacity for highly skilled glamor usage, you need to practice those particular things to get good at them, and then you need to hone the skills over time! Grian's glamor bullets are a great example. He can manipulate them to kill or stun, he can change their size, density, and color, and he can fire them off in pretty quick succession. He needed to start out with having the glamor capacity to do that, but he also needed to practice and hone that skill!

As for that little bonus questions, I don't wanna confirm or deny anything to do with any relationships between the over-city and under-city in any capacity beyond what we've already seen, it's all spoiler territory and I promise we'll get into that as the AU continues to grow! I've got big plans! 😉

[greensagephase]

Alondra, thank you for always supporting me through my college journey this last year!! I can’t believe that I’m graduating, and to be honest there’s been a lot of crying I’ve been doing about it (maybe happy tears?!) 😭 but it means so much to me that through it all, you have been there to support me whenever I brought it up in our conversations! ❤️❤️ After this I’ll finally have the time to truly catch up on everything I missed and talk to you more too!! I’m so excited to finally put my energy back into NC and drawing (I’m considering making my response to part 13 a post because I’m afraid it will go over the word count in messages 😭) AND I DID JUST SEE YOU POST PART 14 SO I KNOW WHAT I’M READING AFTER GRADUATING!!! and I did see your other message on Monday and will get to that too soon!! It made my day seeing that, I can’t describe how happy I get seeing a notification from you 🥹 I’m currently (very last minute) decorating my grad cap before I wake up early for commencement (omg definitely feeling the nerves). But again, Alondra, you’re just the sweetest moot and person I’ve ever talked to and your support means so much (I keep saying it but it’s true!!) and if you ever need anything too, I’m here to talk and listen, friend!! I hope you’ve been having a great start to the month and will talk back soon. Sending you the best vibes and warmest hug!! I hope you’re doing well, friend!! 🥹❤️✨❤️

Here’s a little sketch I made to thank you (more to come for NC!! Literally a backlog of sketches!! HIS SMILE FROM PART 13??!! That’s for another post 🤭) and my cap that decorating (there’s butterflies I’m including too!) but I decided that I’m adding the pics of Miguel on for photos afterwards- but I’ll send you some more photos or maybe even post my finished cap after commencement is over!

@sunsetdoodler Of course, friend!!!!! 🥹🫶🏼❤️ I said it already but I'm so so HAPPY and PROUD OF YOU!!!!! I want to wish you another BIG CONGRATULATIONS FOR GRADUATING!!!!!! 🥳🥳🥳 YOU DID IT, FRIEND!!!!!! Also, the tears are normal, I think, and I believe they're most definitely happy ones!! I cried, too!! It's just a lot of emotions once you reach the day. At some point during the semester you're like, "can this be over already?? 😭😭" but at the same time you're wishing it's not, and then you get to the day and it feels surreal!!!! I hope your day went smoothly and that you spent it with your family and friends!!!!! I'm so excited to see you more active on here and for us to talk again, I've def missed you but as I mentioned in my ask, I was happy you made the decision to focus on your schooling!!!!

I'm also so excited to see fan art from you and also to read your post on part 13, and even more so since you said you had to move it to a word doc!!! I'm ready to read your thoughts on it fr!!!!

Also, YESSS!!! Finally posted part 14 of NC and I can't wait to read your thoughts on it as well, hehe 😌 I think you're going to like it!! And aww, I'm touched my notifications make you happy!!! It's the same for me!! Seeing your name pop up always brightens my day!! ALSO, I LOVE YOUR CAP!!! The flowers are so LOVELY and I love the colors you chose!!!! 💜🤍 And then you added butterflies??!?! You're making me wish I had the opportunity to decorate mine but my school didn't allow us ! 😭I bet the final look turned out so lovely and cute!!! I also love that you had some amazing help from Miguel, he was trying to help you since it was last minute and probably making sure you had space for his photos later on!! But AHHH you're gonna make me cry!! You're so sweet, thank you!!!!! 🫶🏼❤️🥺 The same goes to you, my friend!!! You're one of the sweetest people I've interacted with, even more than some irl people, so thank you for always being so kind and sweet!! If you ever need to talk about anything, I'm here for you as well!!!! I hope you're having a great day so far, and that you have a wonderful weekend, friend!!! Please rest and take your time to unwind after so much going on!! You deserve it!!! Sending you a big warm hug and the best wishes and luck as always!!!! And one more time, CONGRATS, FRIEND!!!!!❤️✨❤️

ALSO THE SKETCH!!!!!! I'M PRINTING THAT WHEN I GET A NEW PRINTER, I SWEAR (it stopped working like a week ago 😭)!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FRIEND - I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!!!!!! Fun little story, I was at a parking lot waiting for one of my siblings and was drawing the sketch I sent you when your notification arrived and let me tell you - I screamed when I saw the sketch!!!! IT MADE MY DAY SO MUCH BETTER, SO THANK YOU!!!!! ❤️😭 And again, I can't wait to see all the art you post once you get time!!! I'm so so excited to see it!!!

[victorluvsalice]

Sims 4 Wednesday -- Potential Tiny Town Challenge

Hi all! As we're between Chill Valicer Save updates this week, I wanted to talk to you about something I discovered relatively recently and have been thinking about off and on -- The Tiny Town Challenge! I first learned about this challenge through seeing a thumbnail for James Turner's version on YouTube, and, curious, tracked down the original challenge and rules to see what it was all about. You can get the full rule set and take a look at the original lot and Sims Deligracy created at the link above, but the basic gist is that you spend the challenge setting up a tiny town on a large lot (preferably 64x64) for seven Sims. Each Sim has a specific money-making skill that they must use to earn the funds to build their house on their specific sub-lot, and a favorite decor style and color that must inform what their house looks like. Each Sim is moved in individually, once the previous Sim has finished their house, and the challenge ends when all seven houses and any communal area is fully built.

I took one look at that and I was like "yeah, I'm into it." XD Both because it sounds like a fun challenge, and because it's a challenge with minimal set-up (which is the problem with the challenges I personally have come up with previously -- I think they'd be fun, but they require a loooot of prep!). Having thought about it for a bit, I have some ideas about how I'd like to do the challenge myself -- and some problems that I'm going to have to figure out before I can set this up as a potential alternate save file to the Chill Valicer Save:

-->Location: I decided relatively quickly that I'd like to do the challenge in Windenburg, setting up a little community on The Crumbling Isle (something like how Plumbob Paragon set theirs up). I almost never play in Windenburg, so I figured that setting the challenge there would be a good way to encourage me to wander around that world and see the sights. And I already have some ideas about using the other lots to make a true town out of the island -- like turning one lot into a Community Space to get a community garden going, or another lot into a retail store that a couple of the citizens run. Might be fun!

-->Citizenry: Well, you guys know me -- of course the first three residents of the tiny town would be Victor, Alice, and Smiler. However, I'm having trouble deciding on who the other residents of the town could be. The way I see it, I have two options for the rest of the group:

Option One: Add Victoria Everglot and Emily Merrimack and do a "Four Victorians Riding A Roller Coaster" polycule thing on the tiny town lot! This would be fun as it would allow for amusing and adorable polycule shenanigans...but the problem here is the color schemes. Specifically, while Smiler is fine with their primary color being Yellow, Victor, Alice, and Emily ALL suit Blue being their primary color (Victor has his blue butterfly and blue tie -- plus I've always headcanoned it as his favorite color; Alice has her iconic blue dress; and Emily has her blue -- everything), and Alice and Victoria would both suit Red (Alice has that iconic red blood splatter on her apron; Victoria has her red dress). Now, I know how I could fix this for Alice -- make her primary color Green, to match her eyes -- but I'm not sure what to do about Victor and Emily. I mean, when it comes down to it, Emily would have to get Blue, look at her, but the only other alternate colors I can think of for Victor would be Black or Grey, and that would result in a depressing-looking house. :( So yeah, bit of an issue there!

Option Two: Add my young Emmett "Doc" Brown Sim (patterned off his appearance in BTTF: The Game), a fem!Malkavian Fledgling Sim I downloaded off the Gallery (which I'm already planning on calling Mal Kavian), a Preston Garvey Sim, and my take on a Wheatley Sim to the gang and just represent pretty much all my favorite fandoms and games in one go. The bonus here is that I've got the full roster of seven Sims; as stated, I'm representing a bunch of things I enjoy, not just the primary three; and I get a tiny bit of diversity by including a black character as a primary. However, there are also a couple of issues here:

I'm not entirely sure I want to do the challenge with the full compliment of seven Sims, as I have trouble wrangling a mere three sometimes in my Chill Valicer Save. And before you ask, no, I don't have For Rent, so I couldn't turn the lot into a Residental Rental and just play one family at a time. I'd have to really fight with my own micromanaging tendencies to get this to work!

We again have color overlap issues because Victor, Preston, and Wheatley ALSO all suit the color Blue (Victor for the reasons listed above; Preston because the Minutemen have blue as their primary color scheme; and Wheatley because his eye is blue in the game). Now, admittedly, this one is a bit easier to solve -- make Preston's color Light Brown to match his iconic duster (yes, Sims 4 actually distinguishes between Light Brown and Dark Brown -- the only color that gets that distinction in the sort!), and Wheatley's White to match his core's outer shell -- but still. I am apparently obsessed with Blue characters!

Now, I can think of an interesting way to solve this dilemma -- set up two tiny towns on the Crumbling Isle on the two biggest lots, and divide the Sims so there's like five or so on each lot. (Suppose it could be like Victor, Alice, Smiler, Doc, Mal Kavian on one, and Victoria, Emily, Preston, Wheatley on another?) That does mean having to do the challenge twice, and wrangling a lot more Sims, but... *shrug* We'll see how I feel!

-->Skills, Colors, and Decors: As previously stated, all Sims have to have a specific skill that they use to fund the creation of their home, and a favorite color and decor style that should inform the look of said home. Now, the decor thing is kind of a mystery to me (I mix-and-match styles all the time when building, and I don't have Dream Home Decorator to make Sims Like specific types -- though it does occur to me that I could just fudge it by having each house just reflect their canon in some way), but I do have skills and colors almost entirely locked down for almost all of my potential citizens --

Victor: His color would be Blue (probably darker shades of such), and his money-making skill would be either Painting or Piano (though I'm leaning toward Painting because I've always headcanoned him as being more private with his music)

Alice: Her color would be Green, and her money-making skill either Painting or Writing (leaning toward Writing because I like the idea of her writing her own books)

Victoria: Her color would be Red, and her money-making skill would be either Knitting or Cross-Stitch (since we know she likes to sew from seeing her working on her blanket in the movie when Victor climbs onto her balcony)

Emily: Her color would be Blue (brighter shades), and her money-making skill would be either Flower Arranging (for her bouquet) or Gemology (for the wedding ring that starts the whole Corpse Bride mess -- it just amuses me)

Doc: His color would be Orange (as part of the BTTF logo), and his money-making skill would probably be Robotics (since it's the most sciencey-one), though I wouldn't say no to Fabrication

Mal: Her color would be Red (because, you know, vampire), and her money-making skill would be Wellness (because it deeply amuses me to have a vampire from that clan doing yoga and spa stuff)

Preston: His color would be either Blue or Light Brown (as previously stated), and his money-making skill would be either Fabrication (because he's the settlement guy, and Fabrication is a lot like how the workshops work in Fallout 4), Woodworking (the more low-tech version of that), or Archaeology (because he clearly enjoys the past, given you find him hiding in a museum and his coat is apparently looted from another one -- probably have to use a mod to make it available outside Selvadorada, though!)

Wheatley: His color would either be Blue or White (again, as previously stated), and his money-making skill would be Programming (again, because of the hilarity factor -- I mean, Wheatley CAN hack in the game, but we all know just how "good" he is at it XD)

Smiler: Their color would be Yellow, and their money-making skill --

And this is where I run into a problem, because I'm not entirely sure what to do for Smiler. Because my version of Smiler's primary thing is chemistry (or alchemy, depending on the setting), and I'm not entirely sure how to best represent that with the skills on offer. Should I do Mixology, on the basis that I heacanon they are also awesome at mixing drinks? Herbalism because that's kind of close (I have a mod that puts Granite Falls bugs in other worlds, so that's not an issue)? Do I rely on Simsonian Library's Apothecary mod and related skill because that is arguably closer that Herbalism? Or do I just fudge things by choosing Mixology or something before turning them into a spellcaster and having them focus on the Alchemy section of the spellbook? Decisions, decisions...

But yeah -- that's what I currently have in mind for any future Tiny Town-related save files I may make! Not gonna guarantee that this is gonna happen, but it's a distinct possibility. :) And if you guys have any suggestions regarding how I should do the tiny town (and what the fuck Smiler's money-making skill should be), please let me know!

[tr4sh-u]

[In response to @chocottang 's reblog]

Ok so I'm writing this on google docs to explain myself, but y’all need to peep game and lock in on this one, as I’m going to try explaining fully this rareship and try actually giving it a dynamic.

This may get a wee bit OOC, and I apologize for that, I’ve been grinding so hard on regretavator, I forgot to do my daily fnafhs rewatchs.

First off, why did I suddenly start shipping them? Well, I’m not going to lie, their color palettes fit VERY well together, as their colors are technically opposites (I’m dying on this hill, idgaf if Y’all think blue is red’s opposite color, or green is pink’s opposite color, I’m not going to join the color debate war) and so, they compliment each other.

Now, why is color so important?, well, I’m going to hold your hand when I say this, it’s *very* important when it comes to character design, as really, no design choice is unintentional, every single thing is intentional in some sense.

And so, this fact could be used to suppose that in a sense, both Fox and Cami are like polar opposites.

And yeah, story wise, they sorta are, as Fox is an orphan child who although parentless, has always had friends and family around him, and has always known how to defend himself.

All the while Cami, her (I assume) entire childhood, was always more of the loner, weak child, who just had Eak and Town to defend her from bullies.

They both share that, in some way, they’re still deeply affected by their childhood.

Fox being affected by the death of his parents, and the sheer weight of being the oldest and having to carry the pressure of taking care of everyone + himself.

Cami may not show it, but from the scenes itself, I do think she still has some issues stemming from her childhood, though I do think she hides it better.

Like, for example, if you pay extra attention to her design, you can actually see she tries to imitate some characteristics of Joy’s appearance. And what would this even mean? Well, not really anything, in canon is just a coincidence, BUT, if we try over analyzing, this COULD mean in a sense she wants to be exactly/similar to Joy, and we have to keep in mind no one besides Golden and maybe the toys know Joy’s homelife, so for all we know, Joy is known as this social butterfly, sort of popular, sweet and confident girl.

And what’s NOT what Cami is? All the things I mentioned about Joy, so, since they have some design similarities, I’m going to put my hand on fire and say it’s actually Cami trying to be exactly like Joy, yearning for that capability of socializing and being confident.

Now that I have that character analysis done, how could hypothetically Fox and Cami interact? Well, if it was Eddo or Dsaster, knowing them, they would probably start the whole thing over some fuckass gag, since Fox is the class clown of the series.

(Talking about gags, they both parallel each other on some gags, as both ending in awkward situations with Freddy lol).

But if it were for them to interact in a more natural/normal way, I believe 100% it would be over Fex, or shadow fox, however you may call that little shadowy thing Fox has. Now how it would work, I'm not sure nor exact, but it would probably be something like Cami being able to feel or sense Fex, and since she didn't create him, Cami would get curious over Fex, wanting to research more about it, either for her own gain, or to use it against the animatronicos or the toys.

Now here’s where I have more fun and go off imagining, but since the Fox side plots tend to always have this comedic sense to them, even if serious or trying to expands his story, I think the best way this could be pulled, is that Cami in her struggle to study Fex more, gets dragged into interacting with Fox, and so, Fox thinking Cami is genuinely interested in being friends, and just assuming Cami is changing her ways from the time she possessed Golden, begins to talk with her more and drags her into shenanigans, to Cami’s dismay.

At first, Cami HATES Fox’s guts, finding him annoying and trying to avoid him, but as time goes, Cami begins getting fond of Fox, to the point she begins changing from her reserved and closed personality, and beginning to yearn more for that warmth and care Fox radiates with those he cares for.

But Cami knows she can’t tell Fox, she can’t tell him her feelings, as doing so could compromise Fox and her more than they already are, and Owynn would neither be happy nor pleased about it.

Cami would be faced with the idea of either having to rebel against Owynn, or never be able to confess her feelings.

And even IF she manages to get out of Owynn’s grip, she never has been faced with actually confessing to someone, and as Fox would be the only one besides Eak, Town and Freddy, who Cami hasn't tried to manipulate to get them on her side, she would actually be faced with the fear of rejection, as by that point, Cami would probably be very aware of Fox’s crush on Chica, and plus, Cami could possibly, or well, probably by that point, feel guilt from her past actions, and so, maybe feel as though she’s not deserving of love, as she’s manipulated many people against their will.

Fox, on the other side, would simply be confused, as he would have to carry all his issues + his conflicted feelings about Cami. He would also have feelings for the latter, but his feelings for Chica would be in the way.

Fox would have so much pressure on his life that he hits a low point.

And Cami joins him.

They would be so lost in their heads, once they get out of it, they go to each other for support, trying to make sense of it, and just enjoying each other's quiet company and support, helping each other via communication or simply listening to the other one vent everything out.

They would be so vulnerable, that by then, they both confessed their feelings, and once that happens, they would awkwardly and secretly start dating, Fox trying to respect Cami’s slow pace, while Cami trying to adapt herself and be the one to initiate everything.

Both doing things very naively and being stubborn, trying to get out of each other’s comfort zone, while still trying to not make it that obvious they’re dating.

At first some misunderstandings happen due to bad communication, but with time, they actually become a very healthy couple and work together.

…

AAAAND that's my thoughts and ideas, please do reblog with any opinions and stuff, I feel like I’ve gone insane writing about them, but it’s just my crazy ideas and some headcanons stuck together.

Also, idk why, but while I was writing this I imagined a Foxami animatic with the song Anyone else but you by the Moldy Peaches.

It's good to go back to my roots of writing long ass rambles of my fnafhs special interest, truly makes me happy writing this.

I also made a doodle of them

If y'all liked this little rareship as much as I do, please do share any headcanons or stuff abt them, I'm all eyes/ears.

[darkaviarymc]

Hermit cubito gender and presentation headcanons

These are just my headcanons, agree or disagree, it's all in good fun.

Iskall: Nonbinary, any pronouns. He usually defaults to he/him because it's simpler that way, so a lot of people don't realize he's not exclusively he/him. Lately, they've taken to giving out a different set of pronouns every time she introduces itself just to watch the chaos unfold (especially with the new guys) Cleo caught on pretty quickly to what Iskall was doing and intentionally helped confuse people even more.

Cleo: Gender apathetic, she/they, doesn't consider herself nonbinary but also doesn't like to be called cis. They're what you get when you order "woman" off of Wish, and she's fine with that.

Xisuma: Literally the he/they version of Cleo.

Stress: The proudest trans woman to have ever trans womaned. That color scheme is not an accident. She used to be stealth, so when she told everyone she was trans, they thought she meant the opposite direction, and she had to clarify that no, she's been a trans woman this entire time.

Etho: Skiny twink trans man. The mask used to be because of disphoria because he thought his lips were too feminine, but now it's become so much a part of his presentation that even after hrt fixed the "problem" he can't let go of it. It's the kleenex box of gender euphoria.

Cub: Trans man. He wanted hrt to turn him into a bear, but he just couldn't manage to grow enough hair to qualify (the season 7 beard was fake). He's still fat and sexy, though, and he can live with that.

Grian: Cis+. He thought maybe he was transfem to some degree at one point and explored that through drag. Turns out, nope. He just has trauma. Once he worked through that trauma, cross-dressing became a way to genuinely express his feminine energy. He's a guy, except for when being a girl is funny. He's committed to the bit way more than to his gender.

Scar: Cis, but doesn't understand why clothes need to have genders. Does he look hot in it? Yes? Awesome, let's wear that dress. He doesn't like the term gnc or consider what he does cross-dressing because that would imply that he's wearing something not meant for men, and clothes are meant for everyone!

Mumbo: Very stubborn egg. He's almost certainly agender, but look at that fabulous mustache! Nothing makes a man a man more than a fabulous mustache, right? He's a man... whatever that actually means. Suits are manly, right? See? He's so manly of a man! Anyway, here's Wonderwall...

Impulse: Agender, he/him, most people don't know. He's not closeted or anything, he's just too busy to come out. He has farms to build! His lack of gender is the last thing on his mind. He does, in fact, realize that the nonbinary flag could be color picked from his outfit, and he finds that funny.

Doc: Intersex, he/him. He certainly identifies more with the "masculine" end of the gender spectrum. What could possibly be more manly than than a butterfly filled with explosives! Males of many animal species are supposed to be the brightly colored ones! You're all just narrow-minded and jealous!

Jevin: He/him or it/its. Slimes don't have genders or sexes. People started using he/him for him because it was the societal default, and he didn't question it for a long time. Recently, it's been liking the sound of it/its, as that more accurately represents its sense of self.

[caspersscareschool]

imagine im sending all the emojis under Character Specific - i love when u talk about the versions of the turtles that exist in ur mind, theyre canon to me (has never watched the show or any movie)

you are the realest one out there I'm so serious. under cut because that's a lot of questions

first of all: she/her leo, he/it raph, he/him donnie, any/all mikey but mostly he/him unless the situation calls for it

🥊 Does Raph have anger issues? If so, how does Raph deal with his anger?

i guess you could say that it does, but its issues have more to do with the guilt and fear associated with feeling or expressing anger on any level. he relies a lot on leo's constant emotional support

🧶 Does Raph knit?

no, but yoshi sews. raph's hobbies include raising butterflies and stag beetles, planting herbs and then forgetting to water them and crying when they die a week later, basketball, and lacrosse (but only with leo). he also has a hamster named daisy whom he would kill himself for without a moment's hesitation

🗣️ Is your Leo the leader? Has he always been?

...there's not really a "leader" since that's not how families work in real life, but she's generally the dubious voice of reason and the one who carries everybody's water bottles and medications and whathaveyou. she resents this position a little but doesn't have the self awareness to confront it

🔥 Is Leo accident prone? Especially in the kitchen?

no ❤️ she's not good at cooking because she is too afraid of failure to put any effort towards building skills that don't come naturally to her, so if it was her job to cook dinner she'd just dump a bunch of hot sauce and tuna and jelly and cheese and gravy in a pot and go heheheyhehheehhehehe Soup👍

🔬 Is Donnie only interested in Tech?

I'm not entirely clear on what this question means. he has other interests outside stem, but in my verse his focus is much more on computer science and mechanical engineering than any other field of science, so he kind of doesn't gaf about biology or anything organic or "squishy." if that was the question. other interests include grindcore music, transformers, my little pony (the toys), swimming, gambling, arguing on forums, sculpting, 3d animation, girls, and other things.

🤖 Does your Donnie have a robot child?

Grins really huge.

🎨 Is Mikey the artist of the family?

yes but he's best at cartoons and graffiti and abstract designs. he also makes his own music (mostly experimental hip-hop). donnie is a far better representational artist, but he doesn't consider his work "art" since he doesn't have mikey's imagination or eye for color and he pays mikey disgusting amounts of dubiously-sourced money to draw his pngtuber rantsona. mikey in turn spends this money on fancy cheese

😈 Is Mikey a little shit?

what more is there to say. Yes

🐀 Was Splinter a human or an animal before he was mutated?

human. but don't worry about it

🧑‍🍼 How does Splinter raise the boys?

Jesus. i really don't know how to get into this without copy/pasting 3 pages of backstory from my notes doc. he did his best that's all i can say

💏 Does/Did Splinter have a significant other?

he had a weird bisexual thing. which is different. i can't disclose more at this time

🎤 Is April a reporter?

april is a first-year undergrad majoring in journalism and minoring in environmental science. she interns at her college newspaper, and lately has been going to dangerous lengths to uncover her "big break" so they'll let her do more than edit the crossword

🧑‍🤝‍🧑 Is April considered a sibling?

she's like. okay. april is an integral part of their family, AND. she's also really not a surrogate/adopted/found sister in a literal sense. yoshi isn't her dad, and her relationship with the turtles is quite distinct from their relationship with each other as siblings, but it's still just as important, because she's family. like, found family outside of any traditional nuclear family roles. she's their best friend and they're her home away from home

🏒 Does Casey play hockey?

casey is such a minor character in my verse right now that it's actually kind of hysterical that they'd be on this list. they used to play, yeah.

🦸 Is Casey a vigilante?

they are a serial murderer.

[jodilin65]

MONDAY, JANUARY 31, 2000 My alarm clock quit on me. That’s just one more thing to break, but I’m not surprised. It’s about time after all, cuz if I’m remembering correctly, that’s the alarm clock that woke me up to go to work at the Harley back in the mid-80s. So I put it in the guest room as a clock and put a different one in the bedroom.

The house makes weird sounds every now and then and I heard a sound earlier that I thought might’ve been an animal that bumped up against the back of the house, so I had Tom go out and check, but he found nothing. I guess it’s just a variation of those settling sounds.

Anyway, we drove two hours just for a two-minute appointment. All the doc did was tighten the bottom retainer, but the top one was fine. Next time won’t be a quickie cuz it’s cleaning time next time. On my way out, the receptionist gave me a carnation. It’s a Valentine’s thing they’re giving their patients. They had candy there too, and both Tom and I helped ourselves to a piece.

After leaving Mel’s, we went to Target and I picked out a valance for the pet room. This one’s called a scalloped valance, cuz it’s wavy. It’s white lace, and very pretty. It really completes and brightens up the room, giving it a touch of femininity as do the other valances I got.

We got new rechargeable batteries for the camera, and I got some pretty butterfly hair clips. I got 5-6 different pairs/colors. I took out Lollipop’s yellow/orange ribbons and replaced those with yellow butterflies. They look great.

Our last two stops were to get me some Chinese take-out and some of my favorite white chocolate caramel coffee at Circle K. He got cakes there. I jokingly said to him, “Better get some popcorn in case we get a room with a microwave!”

Yeah, it was just after 3:00. About the time we’d hit Circle K and load up on snacks to take to the hotel. Or to the trailer, for that matter. God, this road life we led for months already seems like a lifetime ago! It’s hard to believe we did it, and I still don’t believe I ever got on a schedule, let alone a schedule for six months! I’m still on one too, what with all we’ve got coming up. Unless things change, we’ve got a Palm Harbor rep coming out tomorrow, then I’ve supposedly got an appointment with my new doctor for my asthma on Thursday, then Saturday’s the day Mom, Mary and Dave might come see the place.

Tom got the two computers set up so they’re connected. So that he doesn’t have to wait till I get new cartridges, he’s gonna bring up the file I told him my story’s in and read a few chapters at a time as I write them.

I moved Jade out of the bedroom and put her sitting on a mini chest in the pet room, but since I didn’t want her to be too available for the rats to chew on when they’re out running around in there, I moved her to my office instead. Plus, I spend pretty much most of my time in there. I also re-wigged her. I yanked off her wig. Luckily, glue from a glue gun is easy to peel off. After I yanked it off, I put it on her head and pulled it down tight. The thing fits like a glove, so I didn’t bother to glue it down.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 29, 2000 Although there was the usual excuse of some kind in bed today, it was one of the best sessions we ever had because it wasn’t so predictable, and the contact on my clit when we were screwing was the best ever. I thought it’d be the usual - I would spend forever doing him by hand, and he’d be on top of me for less than 60 seconds. Instead, he started rubbing against me, then we screwed. Well, I tried to, but he wouldn’t go inside. He tried to claim I was too dry and was moving away, but I knew that wasn’t so. He just couldn’t get into it. He was only semi-hard the whole time.

I asked Tom if he’d go to a doctor if he was one of those impudent guys who could never get hard. He said he’d go to a doctor, but that’s just hypothetically speaking. Meaning, it’s one thing to say that, but would he really do that? If you ask me - no he wouldn’t go to a doctor. He’d be just as shy, scared, and as embarrassed as he is to go to a doctor about his lack of cumming. Especially when he’s the one controlling it and when he wants it that way. He’d just live with it if he were impudent. He may not deny it if he were, but he’d be like - I’ll get hard. You’ll see. If you just don’t mention it or if you just do this and do that, I’ll get hard. Meanwhile, we’d never have sex in our lives. Not more than with hands or oral, that is. It’s a good thing I don’t want a kid, cuz I’d be really pissed to lose out on a shot at that, regardless of how much I know it’s not meant to be anyway, all because of his stubbornness and just because he’s got a touch of shyness. If he went to a doctor and was told there was nothing that could be done, that’d be different. That wouldn’t be his fault. Same thing with if he came out and told me he didn’t want a kid. But for a man to tell a woman who may want one that he wants one too, and then never does anything to help himself, is appalling.

The weekend engine-gunning has been very mild. Barely noticeable.

Another weekend to not take for granted. The peace and quiet of it, I mean, of course. It’s so nice not to have a bunch of wild blacks or Mexicans at arm’s length! I wonder if the H’s met the lovely neighbors and how they’re handling living with them (we both think they’ve met and as Tom pointed out, they seem like the type to mingle with neighbors). Well, I was the one with the noise curse on her, so my guess is that whether or not they met, they’ve quieted down since we moved. Either that or the H’s just don’t mind their antics. There can’t be a problem as far as them being bothered with noise, cuz wouldn’t they have us contacted to complain about it? Wouldn’t they be like - why didn’t you tell us, even though there’s not a damn thing they could do to us about it? Maybe not, though. I mean, it’s pretty damn amazing they didn’t contact us about the letter. They should’ve known who sent it. Whatever. It’s their lives and I’m not a part of it, thank God.

Yesterday, we finally got Jade assembled. Tom did most of the work. He has quite a talent for putting doll heads and eyelashes on. He saw it as a learning experience, but I saw it mostly as a bitch and I think I’ll get my dolls assembled from now on. She’s beautiful, even though I fucked up her wig. I guess I didn’t pull it down tight enough. It’s sort of bumpy in the back, but fortunately, it’s barely noticeable. I threw an old T-shirt on her and made it look like a sleep shirt. She looks better sitting, believe it or not, so I made room for her on my dresser and put a comb in her hand and it looks really good. It looks natural. She’s supposed to be a woman, but I think she looks more like a girl. She looks like she could be anywhere from age 10-15. Closer to 12, though.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 28, 2000 It figures. It totally fucking figures! The delivery guy got here right on time and without having to call for directions or to be led in. As soon as I saw this, I knew that’d mean compensation. I knew that because he got here on time without a problem that would mean something would be broken or just go wrong somehow. I knew it because whenever we buy something, we always have to fucking get the broken one. Either that, or there’s just always a problem of some kind. This just goes to prove that old hexes followed us here and that life won’t be much different just because we moved out here. The washer works fine, but the dryer won’t start. Tom’s wondering if they wired the electrical wrong. Yeah, that’s something those Mexicans would do. I move away from having fuckers like them interfering with my life, yet I’m still affected by shitheads. I wish this dumb-ass pitiful excuse of a race would go back to Mexico where it belongs!

Later…

Finally, our horrible day is over! Bad things really do happen in threes (and my parents had three kids), because what I last wrote about was far from the end of it. So far everything’s going exactly as I vibed they would. We’re having to fix things in here just as much as we did in Phoenix. Even Tom reached his fill and made an appointment next Tuesday for a Palm Harbor to come out here. They’re nowhere near as stupid as Steven and Dan, but we’ve had it with having to fix these fucking idiot’s fuck-ups. We just want to get on with our lives. Not have to fix things that should’ve been done right in the first place. We probably could’ve fixed the dryer, but we shouldn’t have to. It’s their fucking job to supply us with an electrical box that works and the stupid Mexicans should’ve tested it out before releasing the house to us. Yeah, there’s no juice at all to this electrical box, according to Tom, who tested it out.

The territories we’re cursed in in life are just never going to go away. No matter where we live or what we do, we’re forever cursed. He’s gonna end up not having much more time than he did in Phoenix. Every time he gets a job done, that’s two more things he’s got to fix. How many more months are we gonna be in this house and continue to find things the lazy Mexicans fucked up on? These stupid illiterate Mexicans, as society calls them, don’t even know how to read or write. They’re God’s stupidest people. Why don’t they go to school for a while before they try building houses, the dumbasses!

Once again, God took what should’ve been a wonderful day and turned it into a nightmare. And if he didn’t, what did? Something sure as hell did. Can’t we just have something without having to pay for it like we do? As if $700 wasn’t enough of a payment for this washer and dryer! It’s like - leave us alone, God! Let us live our lives in peace for once. Can we ever go for a month in our lives without having to fix something? Without buying something broken?

So here are our next two crises: I went to wash a few more things since the washer worked fine the first time around because there’s plenty of space around here to hang lots of clothes, but the fucking thing quit filling with water before it reached its fill. Tom thought it might be sand clogged in the little screen at the end of the hose, but nope. A wire connected to the well pump shorted, thanks to shithead Dan. Tom fixed it, fortunately, but again, I was right when I said that that well would be a regular problem from the get-go. As soon as we can afford it, if people like Dennis will leave our wallet alone, we’ll get a backup water tank for our many well problems. That way we won’t have to be without water for a few days every month or two.

I asked Tom, what’s gonna break next, the dishwasher? He said if it does, we’ll just call them out here to fix it. Yeah, but we shouldn’t have to live that way, always having to fix things or call incompetent fools out to “fix” things. What’s this fuck gonna do anyway when it gets here next Tuesday, anyway? Forget to bring the globe we’re missing, and not fix the electrical box correctly? Or if it fixes it, will it break three other things while it’s at it? I’m not gonna allow them to fix the island trim, sand the guest room door, or paint the grease spots the fucking pigs smeared in a few areas and shit like that. I don’t trust them. They’ve disrupted our lives enough and fucked up enough. I’m just gonna give them a piece of my mind and let them know how pissed off I am that we have to fix all these things when we should be enjoying our new house. I knew it, though. I just knew it. But if I’d known our house was gonna be made by a pack of blacks, I’d have pushed to build our own house. You know what they say - if you want something done right, do it yourself.

Tom, who always handles these kinds of things better than I do, pointed out the good to all this and was glad we survived all we went through and came out of it okay.

The third and last thing that happened, although the day’s not yet over for me, is that I got stung by a bee in the neck in the house! Yeah, can you believe it? It scared the shit out of me and stung and burned like hell for a good 15 minutes or so, but now, if I didn’t know any better, I’d never know I was stung. It was so scary. After being outside, I was standing in his office talking to him while he sat at his computer when I suddenly felt something irritating me towards the left side of my neck. At first I thought it was an ant, but then it steadily got worse and worse and I knew no ant could inflict such pain and I flung my shirt off faster than I ever had before in my life screaming “Something’s in my shirt!”

Tom, thank God, got the stinger out with tweezers in no time at all, without causing any more stinging and burning. It sure was wild, but I knew I wasn’t gonna die or anything like that. He went looking for the bee sting and snake bite first aid kit, but couldn’t find it. I found it later, but it wasn’t needed anyhow. I simply put some Cortisone on it and took lots of Ibuprofen. What was weird about the whole thing, though, is that neither of us ever heard, saw, or felt the bee. We looked around the house afterward to see if we could see a dead bee, but nope. It must’ve quietly sat on my hair as I entered the house, then crept down just under my shirt collar before stinging me. Tom said that the stinger’s small, so you don’t really feel it much. It’s the poison you feel as the venom seeps out of the stinger. He said it’s possible it could’ve stung me and taken off to die a few seconds before I even knew I was stung. So, this is the second time in my life I got stung. This was a regular bee that stung me, cuz after a regular bee stings you, its stinger falls out and the bee dies. A yellow jacket can keep stinging you over and over. That’s what I got stung by at the beach when I was around ten. I was sitting on the couch in my bathing suit being chewed out by Dureen for God only knows what, when I thought I had an itch on my back. I reached around to scratch it and got stung on the finger.

Tom suggested we screen the pool too, as well as our future spa. We’ll start with an Arizona room and expand from there. Great! No more swimming in fear! I hated how I lost so many days to swimming in Phoenix when he wasn’t around all because of my fear of bees. Why waste the money being too scared to swim by myself? Even with him could get scary at times when there were so many fucking bees at once. They’re just too damn brave. They’re actually curious about people, but then as soon as you make a move - they’ve got you.

I was sitting thinking about how we should bitch to Mary about our horrible day just like we did when Dan was ruining our lives and making us miserable, then Tom came out and suggested it, too. So we did. Also, we’ve agreed to have them over next weekend, as long as nothing comes up with them.

Before all this happened, Melanie called. I was surprised to be called long-distance. I thought they’d mail me an appointment reminder like last time. She had knee surgery. She said something about them taking her kneecap off. Oh, God! How excruciating that must’ve been! I don’t know the details about why she had to have all this done. I didn’t want to keep her on the phone forever.

Remember how I mentioned the house rumbling and vibrating me awake? Well, this still happens every now and then, although I’ve been awake when it usually happens. It hasn’t woken me up since I last said it did a week or two ago. Today Tom got to hear it for himself for the first time. It happened at around 11 AM in the utility area, and then an hour later, I could feel it in the bedroom while he felt it down in the utility area. These rooms are at opposite ends of the house. Tom’s not sure what it is but said it felt like a huge truck going by. No way. I can’t imagine the house vibrating like that unless a train ran a few feet away, and besides, I could never see any trucks going by during these rumbles. All you hear when a truck goes by is its engine, but you never feel it. It never shakes the house. I told Tom I thought it was the house settling, but wondered if we could be on top of some ancient burial site, although I doubt it. He too, said it’s unlikely, cuz people long ago lived near water. Even if there were fossils under the house, why should the spirit of those who lived in the bodies be mad at us? They’re done with their bodies. Their bodies are dead. They don’t need them anymore. Now, they’d be just spirits in the sky or something like that. But then I discovered the salt shaker had fallen off the top back part of the stove and onto a burner. Classic poltergeist activity. Tom said it simply vibrated off. That’s a lot of vibration! I wonder how long these rumbling spells will continue and how many times they’ll end up waking me up. What? Is God up there saying to himself, “Ha! If she thinks she’s gonna sleep out here regularly, wait till I shake her awake every now and then.” What is this? Just because he knows stereos don’t go banging by here he’s got to shake me awake instead? Is he that determined to get to me in the sleep department? That’s desperate. Real fucking desperate. Why doesn’t he just have me have a kid then? Then I’ll really never get any sleep. It’ll be worse than the NHA was. Well, at least I know I don’t have to worry about him going that far and sticking a kid on me. I still don’t get why he paired me up with a virtually cumless dick, though. The only regimen I ever needed against pregnancy was a hysterectomy. Not forced safe sex.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 27, 2000 Dan hasn’t begun his engine-gunning spurts today. Yet. He obviously went to work today or was out somewhere because neither of us has heard a sound, but once he gets in, I’m sure I’ll hear from him then.

Other than that, it’s so peaceful and quiet 99.99999% of the time. I love it.

Tom, who’s clearing out the shed so he can clear out the utility area for our washer/dryer which is due tomorrow, came in the house giggling, saying he had great news. He found the cranks that open the old bedroom windows. Should he call the H’s and tell them? Hee, hee! Yes, I remember the day they were doing the inspection and one of the inspectors was telling me the windows should have cranks. I was worried for a minute there that this would cause the H’s to back out on us.

Later…

And we found yet another thing those stupid cocks did. The idiots drilled a hole in the floor for the dryer to vent, yet it doesn’t go anywhere. Directly below it is 2-3 feet of insulation. Did the stupid shits expect us to drill a hole through the stuff and vent it under the house? Why couldn’t they have drilled a hole in the exterior wall for it? Stupid, stupid shits. So now that’s just one more job that Tom has to do. At least the good part of it is that we got the utility area all cleaned out. It had been caked with dirt, but Tom showed me that Spic & Span would clean it really well. I was surprised. I thought I’d have to scrub the shit over and over again with Brillo. It’s nice finally having that floor cleaned so I no longer have to tiptoe through dirt and sand to use the bathroom down there. It’s been vacuumed, mopped, and cleared out and is now ready for our new washer and dryer! Oh, I’m gonna love having a large capacity washer/dryer so I can do big things like our comforter! And I’m gonna love being able to wash and dry at the same time.

Dan took a day off from engine-gunning. I really appreciate that seeing that the weekend is less than a couple of days away. Of course, as I’ve learned, he could play engine any day of the week, but on weekends he tends to get more into it.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 26, 2000 I haven’t written much over the last few days in my journal or on my story because I was tied up doing other things.

Last Sunday, as well as Saturday, Dan did a little bit of engine-gunning in spurts, and it makes me wonder if I’m in for that every weekend he’s here. I told you things would slowly pick up in noise once we got into the house, although that’s nothing compared to the quietest days in Phoenix.

I went through all the photo albums and scanned the pictures I wanted on the computer. Back when that virus fucked up my computer, I lost those that I had scanned.

Tom said he met up with Dennis at work and that he said he was sorry. It’s too late. He already charged us the outrageous amount he charged us to use a functional but dumpy old trailer that otherwise would’ve just sat in his yard, and he hasn’t changed the amount he wants. So how is he sorry? He still used us and our situation as an opportunity to be a greedy SOB.

Yesterday poor Tom went through a horrid ordeal on the phone with Cigna. Now they’re fucked up, too. Every single business is fucked up. No one is competent in this world. It makes me wonder how we came to have sophisticated things like computers when the world is so stupid.

He called the doctor Cigna assigned to us as our regular doctor but then their office said they weren’t taking new patients. Then Tom called Cigna back who referred him to this number and then to that number. Meanwhile, he was getting nowhere. Finally, after two hours, he got to make an appointment with the doctor after all. Question is - will the incompetent fucks screw up the paperwork on that too, and tell me I was never scheduled for an appointment? I wouldn’t put it past them. The office is in Sun Lakes, so hopefully there won’t be too many wild kids. And hopefully they won’t make me wait an hour, either.

Anyway, it’s sickening what the world’s come to when it comes to doctors. It used to be you called their office, got a live person, and made an appointment. Now, it can be an all-day ordeal just to make a doctor’s appointment. You have to go through a maze of machines and contradictory, stupid people. This is part of why I didn’t continue with the invitro. No one would talk to me. And when they would, it was only to refer me to someone else, then to someone else, while one person would say one thing and another would say something totally different.

Later…

Dan, will you shut the fuck up! I’m getting so sick of him and his engine-gunning. Besides, shouldn’t he be at work in the middle of a weekday afternoon? Or do people who drive tractors only work part-time? And what’s he gonna do now? Gun these fucking engines every day? I never would’ve guessed that Dan would be an annoyance. I’d have guessed on the renters first, next door second.

Tom asked me if I heard the music when he came in. No, I didn’t, fortunately. He said it was soft country music that could’ve been coming from Dan’s, the people past Dan’s, or the renters. Said he couldn’t be sure with the wind. It’s Dan, I thought right away. Then shortly afterward, he started with the engine gunning, so I obviously guessed right. He was home.

Anyway, Tom filed our taxes by phone and is unwinding with the TV now before hitting the sack.

If there were only these two choices, I’d rather work on my story with my music going in the background than vroom, vroom! So I started up a CD and now I’ll go see if I can work on my story.

Later…

Shut uuuuuuup, you mother-fucking cock! Yeah, it just started gunning again. It does this every 2-3 hours and I’m getting pissed here. I’m really getting pissed. I’m supposed to be able to read in peace out here if I want to, but no. This guy’s gotta make a racket with his fucking engines. This is no one-time engine problem he’s been fixing, either. I just know it. This is a regular thing it’ll do whenever it’s home. God, get this fuck out of here to Indiana and let me live in peace! What’s next, huh? What comes after this? Louder music that I can hear in here? Well, maybe it’ll go to work tomorrow and maybe when it comes home it won’t be in the mood to play engine. Maybe it’ll do something else with its time.

Later…

Our little engine-gunner quit pretty much as soon as he started. As I said, he does this in spurts, so it could be worse. He could be doing it for hours non-stop in which case I’d get a gun and shoot the fucker. But are we gonna be in for another spurt at 6:00? We’ll see, but I’d think it’d be a little too windy to be outside. It’s been super windy. You can see dust flying in the wind. There’s almost as much dust as a car kicks up. The wind chimes I have by all three doors are going off and they sound pretty. Actually, I can only hear the back and side door chimes, because the wind is going from back to front. When will it ever rain, though?

Later…

Making good progress with the story. I’m trying not to be predictable. I want the reader to be surprised by all the different curveballs I throw into the story.

Friday or Saturday Paula should get my manila envelope filled with the written pages I tore out of my big blue book to type up with the cover that changes pictures (I couldn’t rebind that cover after I printed out the lime green pages I printed out, so I bound just the pages). That is, only the ones I’d allow her to read. Hope she reads it and doesn’t let all my writing go to waste, but when I look back at the blacks and Mexicans, who obviously didn’t read my mail, you never know. It’s up to her, though. In most cases, I wouldn’t want someone to read something of mine if they didn’t want to. I think she will, though.

It’s funny just thinking of how those personal pages I wouldn’t send her are sitting under someone’s bed at the hotel. I wonder how many years that, and the note I slipped under the stove in Phoenix, will sit undiscovered.

As long as Teresa got my letter OK, I was right about her not contacting me. I hope she did get the letter and has a great life. She was a really nice, helpful, supportive person.

I forgot to mention another thing that happened last weekend that took me by surprise. We had a sales call. I couldn’t believe it. I was like, a sales call? Out here? Some cock came by with a freezer full of meat from a farm. God only knows just how poisonous the meat was, too. I wonder how often these kinds of people will come around. We’ll see, but if I have to, I could always put a sign up and then deal with those who refuse to read it.

MONDAY, JANUARY 24, 2000 I downloaded this really cool thing off the web that makes water within wallpaper pictures ripple and come to life. It’s so cool! The catch is, though, that once you set the waves, it works on all your pictures, even waterless pictures, till you shut it off. So, I’ve got my wallpaper changer turned off while I’m using the ripple effect in a picture with water in it which it was meant to be used for. I’m done dieting for good this time. Always being hungry and sluggish is no way to live. I’d rather look like shit than feel like shit. Besides, it’s not my body to decide what to do with. Never has been, never will be. It’s God’s body. He created me to his own liking, and just like I have no rights to my reproductive system, I have no rights to my weight, either. I just don’t have what it takes to starve and in this day and age, that’s the only way I could possibly lose weight. I need to stop depriving my body of the food it needs. People get hungry for a reason and again, I’m 34 now. I’m supposed to be a bit plump.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 23, 2000 Fortunately, Dan didn’t become too much of a nuisance yesterday. Tom said he could see the hood open on one of his junk trucks, and that he had a radio blaring. He said it was too soft to make out what kind of music it was but could tell that at the same time it had to have been blasting. I never heard a thing in here. Dan’s behavior makes me wonder if he grew up in the city. No doubt that people love to blast music, work on cars, and gun engines there.

Tom kept his promise and got his office and the guest room organized. It’s still a little more cluttered than I’d like, but acceptable enough. He set up his old air bed in the guest room, but it leaks. That figures, huh? He’s got stuff to patch it with, but he just can’t find where it’s leaking.

He got a couple of tables that I’ve put in the living room and set up the mice the way I had them in Phoenix. I missed doing this. I definitely need more mice to fill up all the space, though. So far, only Oreo climbed up to higher levels and back down. Butter Rum and Mocha have remained downstairs.

Tom also got a filter for the house which was cheaper than he thought it’d be. No more sandy baths!

He’s been keeping his word and not procrastinating since being here. The only thing he said that was bullshit was about how he was suddenly gonna change into a whole new person and cum regularly, but I knew better.

Once we get the project room tables, the exercise machine, and the guest room set up, I can begin my photo shoot of the house. Although, it may be quite a while before we get a bed and nightstand in the guest room, so I’ll probably just shoot it as it is, so I can get the pictures off to Dureen, Art, and Tammy and be done with them for a year or two, or until whenever the hell I feel like sending them an updating letter. I still have no desire to have them back in my life. Not after all the years of shit they’ve dumped upon me. Things would be OK for a while, then they’d only return to the same old cycle of shit.

In a couple of hours or so, we’ll be having our usual predictable, boring, cumless sex, but oh well. I just go through the motions for his sake to keep him as happy and as satisfied as he is sexually.

Later…

Another typical moment in bed. He couldn’t get in there and I asked him if I was too dry, but he said he was too soft. I should’ve guessed he’d have some sort of problem today what with my still being too close to mid-cycle. He still swears that he’s not turned off by me in bed, not afraid of my conceiving, and that if I give him time in the new environment, we’ll end up screwing more often since there’s less to do here and we’re less stressed out, and therefore, he’ll get off more often.

Sounds like just another lame excuse to me to try to cover for his own fears and lack of interest. Most of the time he just doesn’t seem into it and this is what helps dampen my appetite. Yes, we have been screwing more often, but he’ll never get off much more than he has been. He’ll still be right where he is in a year. And in a few years. And in a decade. I just don’t see why we have to go through these bullshit motions if he’s not into it.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 22, 2000 The moon, which seems to be bigger out here in Arizona, has been pretty neat to see through the skylight at night. Especially when it’s full. Full moons are so bright out here that the bedroom looks like it’s either the crack of dawn or the final stages of dusk. When I got up Tom was already gone. He’s still hunting for a place that’ll deliver a washer and dryer to us sooner than February 1st or 9th as the Phoenix area says. This time, he’s heading to Casa Grande. For now, we’re doing weekly laundry and garbage dumps at Mary’s. Dan’s been driving me nuts with the engine-gunning spurts. Is this going to go on all day? And is this going to be a regular weekend event around here? What is this cock doing? Tom said he said he does what Gravity does and drives a tractor. It sounds like a huge engine, but I can’t see any tractors over there. Thank God this stupid fuck goes to Indiana every summer. That’ll give me a break from this shit. It isn’t just the weekends, although it’s mostly the weekends. I heard it for a few minutes during the week, too. Shut up, Dan! This is the Hidden Valley area of Maricopa. Get it? Hidden Valley. It means you keep your noise and your shit to yourself. We don’t want to know you exist out here.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 21, 2000 Another Friday night of not having to worry about other people’s selfish, rude antics disrupting my life! No stress, no nothing. Just plain old happiness.

Yesterday, the strangest sound woke me up. We still don’t know what it was, but I have a theory. I awoke at 8:30, a half-hour before my alarm was set to go off, to a loud bang that rumbled through the house and vibrated me awake. It woke me right up the first time, then it happened again right after it woke me. When I saw it was too early for Tom to be in, I wondered if someone may have broken into the house, so I flung the bedroom door open, expecting to come face to face with someone other than Tom, but I saw no one. I ran and checked all the rooms and closets, but still, there was no one. Tom asked me if it could’ve been a water tank or something loud like that going next door, but no way. It was definitely coming from within the house itself. It sounded like something crashed to the floor which would rumble throughout the house. When Tom was shuffling heavy stuff around his office one day while I was in the bedroom, I could feel the vibration in there. The only thing I can think of was that it was the house settling. Especially amongst the floorboards. There was nothing else going on nearby that I could see.

I had the windows open today to air the place out, and it was so nice to be able to enjoy such a pleasant breeze without opening the window up to a world of chaotic noise. It was just as peaceful with the windows open. The only thing I hear every now and then is gunshots and engine-gunning. I love it here. For once I am truly home. God, please don’t take our home and our peace away from us! Keep the city in the city! Let us stay here forever and ever! Of course, it’s still scary to think - what are we gonna do when we get too old to drive and get around well since we’re so far out? What happens when I can’t clean the place very well? Will we end up all alone in some state-run nursing home? I try not to think of something that’s still too far away, but it’s hard not to sometimes.

We both still feel rather shocked and annoyed that Dennis wanted so much money and so fast, but in the end, it actually worked out for the better, and old Dennis may have done us a favor after all. We don’t have to pay $500 of the $1,000 back but had he agreed for us to give him a few hundred dollars a month, we would be able to pay that on our own and would’ve ended up paying the whole $1,000 ourselves. But with him wanting $500 this month and the rest next month, we only end up paying him $500. Perhaps this is a selfish way to look at it, but we got this from a woman who not only once used us for a good four or five thousand dollars after Dad died (I believe Ma used Dad’s death as an excuse to use Tom), but who can’t have too many more years to live if even that. Because of this, it’s easy to feel OK about the money she gave us. Grateful, but not guilty.

When Tom was testing out the new net thing on my computer and showing me how to get into it, he went to John Saul’s site and it turns out he just released a book and is going to be releasing another one in June. The site had the prologue and the first chapter, and man, I’ll tell you, he is not the writer he used to be. The whole fucking prologue was nothing but childbirth. I’m so sick of that subject! It’s no wonder the desire to have my own child wore off. Why is this world so obsessed with the subject? The same old same old gets old. The part of the book that wasn’t childbirth was utterly boring. I don’t expect his June book will be any better.

Tom got a sticker-dissolving cleaner that works great. I got the ugly stickers off of the tub, toilets, and windows. He also got a filter for the well. Thank God! We sure do need that. I haven’t taken a bath lately cuz of all the sand that comes out. I’m hoping we can replace the bathroom sink faucets real soon too, cuz they’re cheap pieces of shit. This doesn’t have an aerator you can take off like the kitchen sink, tubs and showers do, so it’s all clogged up with sand and all you get is a little trickle of water. There’s no pressure at all. We need to get a second pressure tank, too. We’re gonna replace the bathroom faucets which I hate, with the single lever kind we got in Phoenix.

He got a paper shredder for things with credit card numbers and it’s so cool. The animals love it. The rats don’t really care for shredded paper, but the mice love to burrow in it and the pig loves to chew on it. Right now, the rat’s chew toy of choice is an old hair bubble of mine I cut off its elastic.

Yesterday Lisa turned 17. I hope she’s doing OK. God, do I ever hope so! I’m just afraid that she too, has a long wait for happiness. Better later than never, I guess.

Later…

I just called Tammy’s, blocking our number out first, in the hopes that Lisa would answer, but Tammy did so I hung right up. I miss Lisa so much! I wish to hell we never became as close as we did. It’d make things a whole lot easier. Perhaps I shouldn’t be bothering, anyway. Trying to get to Lisa could very well be asking to have an old can of worms opened. Not that I couldn’t shut that can, but I just don’t want to deal with these people she’s connected to. I don’t want to hear about them, I don’t want to know about them. I’m done with them. I’ve been done with them and their bullshit. All I’ll ever do from here on out is drop them a quick line every year or so (without our address and number), but I doubt if I’ll ever do that.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 19, 2000 And today I’m 119 pounds.

I still never see any lights on at night in any of the rentals. In fact, last night, even the usual outside light wasn’t on. I still believe they’ll be a problem once it gets more built up back there.

It’s hard to believe we’ve only had a two-hour drizzle spell since late August-early September! Makes me wonder if it’ll ever rain again here.

Later…

The weather’s warmed up to the point where it’s getting to be nearly 80º in here by the time 4:00 rolls around. We’re looking at using the AC soon for sure. I’ve got the heat set to come on at 70º, but it may not even come on before the crack of dawn when it’s the coldest like it’s been doing.

Tom’s mom gave us a check for not $500, but $750! I could hug that woman to death! Speaking of that, she’s nowhere near it, according to Tom. He says she’s doing so unusually well, including her blood count, that the doctor doesn’t want to see her for four months. He said all he’s gonna do is take her to get her toenails trimmed and fix Mary’s printer. No problem. They’ve done so much for us what with helping us with money and letting us get water there and use her washer and dryer that Tom can work over there for weeks if he wants to. And there I was thinking that things would go wrong with her after we got settled in the house. Maybe my vibes of her dying around her 77th birthday will be wrong. Maybe she’ll surprise us all, including the doctors, and live for a few more years.

Also, to my utter amazement, Steven kept his word and sent us the check for the money for a new washer/dryer. I really thought he was gonna stall and stall and stall.

I got our new address labels too, which are boring compared to what I usually get. I didn’t want to order anything too plain, though, either. They consist of five different butterfly pictures. All drawings of course. Not actual photos. I got these because I don’t do letters a lot anymore, and they’re just mostly gonna get stuck on bills. It’s still faster and more convenient for us to slap on stickers, rather than write out our return address.

I’m stealing seven books from the Double Day book club since Tom plans on stealing Internet access, or something that has to do with the satellite, but I’m sure he’ll do everything he can to talk me out of it, insisting that it’s far more dangerous to get caught than it is with what he intends to do. I know this isn’t true, though, since I’ve done this before, but if he’s gonna get too overly paranoid, I won’t bother to have him mail the card. It’s in a bogus name, of course, addressed to our PO Box.

We didn’t end up screwing last night. I guess both of our subconscious fears sex, even though one of us knows we have nothing to worry about anyway. I just couldn’t get in the mood. Not after a discussion of how strapped we’re gonna be for the next few months, thanks to fucking assholes like Steven, Dan, and Dennis. I’m so sick of others interfering with our plans and finances! Will I ever escape other people’s control? Anyway, he took advantage of my not being in the mood as a great opportunity to escape something he’d rather not do and decided to nap till it was time to go to work. He asked if I was mad at him because he said we’d get together. No, I wasn’t mad. We can screw some other time when he’s more comfortable. From here on out, though, I’m not going to tell him when I’ve got my period, so he doesn’t have to needlessly worry about something that’s not medically possible in the first place. Although, he may worry more often if he doesn’t know where I am in my cycle. If he knew I just finished my period, for example, he’d at least be able to know he had some time there to safely let go if he wanted to.

He’s been doing a good job of getting his stuff organized which he has in his office and the guest room. I didn’t think he’d work this fast, but this doesn’t mean he won’t take to trashing at times. It’s what he’s used to and what he grew up with. He likes clutter strewn about. That’d be fine for his office if it wouldn’t hinder my dusting and vacuuming, but it does, and I want to keep my record going here. Notice how long it’s been since I’ve had an all-day allergy attack? I want to keep it this way if I can help it!

We’ve agreed that I’d give him the chapters I complete during the week for him to read over the weekends. So far, he’s been into it and that’s pretty flattering. I didn’t have to beg him to read what I wrote. He did it on his own. He said that the first time around he wants to just read it, then the second time he’ll critique it in more detail.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 18, 2000 I guess we’re gonna be having another round of boring, predictable sex in a little while. After he’s done some more work in his office, I guess, but you know him. He likes to put sex off till the last minute when he’s most tired. He went to Casa Grande today to get a CD for Internet access. It’s called Cybertrails. We can’t get AOL out here because they don’t have a local number here. That’s fine with me. I hated how AOL harassed me every day with junk mail. I sent Evie a letter thanking her for our Christmas gifts and letting her know that I’d contact her as soon as I could. Teresa will be getting a letter from me, too. Although I enclosed our address and number, I don’t expect to hear from her and I told her it’s OK if she doesn’t write back or call me cuz of how remote I am. I just wanted to thank her, I told her, for being so nice to us. I also enclosed some jokes I had saved. I hope I’m right about her not contacting me since it’d be a pain in the ass to have a friend in the city, but if I thought she might, I wouldn’t have enclosed the address and number. I think about giving our number to Paula at times, but I don’t want the daily calls from her (whenever she happens to have a phone, that is). When I moved, I wanted to get away from Andy’s and Paula’s constant calls, not just naughty blacks and filthy Mexicans and polluted air and desperate crowds. I’m back down to 121 pounds. Oh, goody. Then I can go right back up to 124 pounds when I get stuck tomorrow.

MONDAY, JANUARY 17, 2000 Katie did die. I found her earlier and Tom buried her. She will be missed. We screwed earlier too, and as expected, he didn’t cum. I’m mid-cycle and it isn’t April. April’s when he’ll cum again. I’ll be giving him another hard-on tomorrow too, but not before he goes down on me. It’s been a while since I’ve cum by him and I think it’s about time I did. I like to take care of myself most of the time, but every now and then it’s nice to let him do the work for a change. Today he claimed to have gotten out of breath cuz he was oh so excited. Then he’s in pretty serious shit shape. This not being able to cum cuz of being so excited bullshit’s got to go. He uses this line on me every now and then and anyone else that heard that would say that’s crazy, too. That’s like saying you’re too thirsty for a drink or too cold for a coat. It’s a lame, bullshit excuse, and again, I’m just as happy that he doesn’t cum. It’s a free, side-effect-free source of birth control, even if I am sterile anyhow. But the fucking excuses are so old and so obvious that they’re BS! And I’m sick of having to do him by hand for fifteen minutes and only screwing for two. He’s so lazy and out of shape when it comes to sex, not to mention scared shitless of something that cannot possibly happen in the first place. It would’ve happened by now if it could. He claims that we can now finally have more sex, which is a crock, whether or not that’s what I wanted. Oh, we will in the beginning, but then he’ll go back to favoring the TV over sex. And God will also help interfere with our sex lives by having things come up that he has to fix, etc. I thought I cleared the trailer out completely, but obviously I didn’t. I left two pairs of shorts that I know of in the trailer. Makes me wonder what else I left in it. I’m too fucking fat for the rest of my shorts to fit comfortably, so now I’m forced to work harder on these hopeless diets. I tell you - there is no such thing as a “diet.” You either eat or you don’t. It’s the same with the cigarettes. I’ll try cutting down to a few 150-calorie meal bars a day since I’m too much of a wimp to quit food altogether, so I can still have essential vitamins and minerals. Dieting by having the recommended 1000 calories a day doesn’t do me a damn bit of good anyway. Especially when I get stuck for a day or two. That only ends up undoing any weight I may have lost and causes me to go back and forth and back and forth, rather than slowly descend in weight.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 16, 2000 Well, Dan’s getting on my nerves now, so I threw my stereo on. Figures, huh? Other than that, though, it’s been dead quiet. What he’s doing is today and yesterday he sat there gunning a loud engine on some old truck or something like that for 10-15 minutes. What is it with people sitting and gunning engines in this state? Anyway, that’s a far cry better than bass thumping at thunderous volumes that not even rock bands play at 3’ from the house, but I wonder if this is going to be a daily routine of his now, even though it doesn’t seem to last too long.

I can’t believe I once said that this master bedroom was smaller than the one in Phoenix when it’s the other way around. It’s almost as wide, but it’s certainly longer.

Our phone was installed on Friday. We just got one line. Fortunately, they have voice messaging out here. I want that and Caller ID. He’s been running wires and installing phone jacks in our offices and the living room. He accidentally cut a wire in the wall to a plug in his office and the guest room, so that’s one more thing he’ll have to fix.

I got new ink cartridges the other day, so I decorated the walls with some of the pictures I printed out of animals and scenery.

Dennis and his wife should be here anytime now to pick up the trailer.

We went out hunting for a washer and dryer and ended up stopping at Heilig-Meyers where we were given back $100 for the damaged tables I had returned. We saw one of the guys who delivered the living room set and chatted with him for a few minutes, then took the $100 we were given and bought another 3-table set for that price. They’re weird, yet nice looking and I got all three to fit in the den just fine. I have the couch in front of the windows with the two smaller tables on each side. On the other side of the small tables are the couch and loveseat. The bigger, longer table is in front of the couch. They’re glass with black frames. The bottom shelves are net-like, rather than solid. I put a couple of dolls and my white carnations under the big one and it looks really cool. I put my little palm tree Tom’s mom gave me under one of the smaller ones and a black and white stuffed rabbit that matches nicely under the other.

The last time we had sex, Tom decided to play games again. It was sooo boring, too. First I was doing him by hand for what seemed like forever, and then he was too soft to go in me so he had me do him some more, saying he wasn’t quite ready and jumped the gun (but what it really was was a case of him not being able to get hard enough. Or not wanting to). What burned me up was that look of pure pleasure on his face as he got off of me and had me do him some more till he had me stop and we quit altogether. That’s just not normal! Any normal man would be totally frustrated. But not him. He loved every minute of it, and it was so obvious that he planned it all out. Why does he do this? Why does he get off on turning me off? I’m already dreading the next time we screw. Well, it’s not that I actually dread it, I just don’t want to bother. It’s gonna be so damn boring and predictable and I’m just so sick of it. I find myself making more and more excuses to get out of sex and I really believe that someday, although it may take 5-10 years, we won’t be having sex at all.

Later…

Dennis came and got his trailer today, but he came alone. He got a little opportunity-happy, too. We figured he’d round the $1300 we owed him to an even $1000, but we didn’t know he’d want the money so fast. First he wanted it all today, then said he didn’t want to make things hard for us, so he agreed to take $500 now and the rest next week. Tom said he’d talk to Ma about it and I’m sure she’ll give him the money. Sometimes I don’t know what we’d do without that woman despite the many complaints I’ve had about her. It makes me wonder what we’ll do when she’s gone. What if we need a few hundred bucks or more in a hurry after she’s gone? She offered money for the two new tires Tom had to get last week, but he had already gotten them, so it’s not like she’s not willing to help us out.

Tom said he noticed that next door was building an addition at the side of their house as he was going out to go grocery shopping. And I didn’t hear a thing! Although, if I were sitting in the den and had the rock tumbler turned off, I might’ve faintly been able to hear the hammering, but again, thank God it wasn’t 3’ away! He wasn’t sure what the addition was. It could be a garage, he said.

Tomorrow’s MLK Day and thank God I don’t have to worry about that either! Now that we’re settled in the house, holidays won’t be a part of our lives anymore. Not in a bad way. Just in a good way. They used to bring nothing but stress and trouble, for the most part, but now we can enjoy having more time together and concentrate on that alone without having to worry about what others are gonna do and what shit they’re gonna force us to listen to and deal with. No distractions. That’s how I like it. God only knows why I once wanted a kid and to give all that peace and freedom up. And money. We’re gonna be broke for the next several months and since we know damn well how hard it can be sometimes for two people to get by, imagine if there were more of us? That’s a scary thought.

Katie appeared to be dying starting about four days ago, but I don’t know. One minute it looks like she’s gonna die any second, the next she’s out and about eating. She’s very weak, though, and hasn’t wheeled, so she’s still not right. She is old, after all, and I don’t expect her to be around much longer.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 13, 2000 Tom went to bed earlier today to catch up on his sleep so we can “get together” tonight. And do what? Get him hard and me bored? I like the actual screwing part of it, even if I can’t cum that way, but doing him by hand can get boring when I have to go on and on and do it for long periods of time. Despite the fact that I don’t want a child and that I know he’s doing what he wants to do, I still can’t help but feel like I’m not good enough in bed. I still feel inadequate even though he doesn’t want to cum. Wouldn’t most people whose partner never came feel that way? He’s an exception, though. My not cumming doesn’t bother him. Then again, he would appear not bothered by it after all, cuz he wants to be left alone to be the way he is. Tom’s not your typical person who practices what he preaches. If he wants to be accepted for not cumming, he’ll accept you for not cumming, too. The whole thing still makes me feel - well - weird. I’ve been sexually hexed all my life and I always will be, so I try to just accept that and the fact that nothing will change with that, and not let it get to me. If it weren’t Tom’s fear of cumming, it’d be somebody else’s wanting sex every other minute. If it weren’t their wanting sex every other minute, it’d be someone who couldn’t even get excited, and so on and so forth. I’ve had premature shooting dicks, peanut-size dicks with cum that smelled like bleach so bad it was nauseating, women that smothered me with sex every other minute, etc. So why not add the cumless guy to the picture, huh? If there had been another guy after Tom he would’ve been impudent, or if there’d been another woman she’d have been frigid. After that would’ve been some sick twist wanting me to beat them with whips and chains while I ran around the bedroom chanting how bad they were. Anyway, I’ll just go through the predictable motions in bed tonight, make him happy, give him what he wants, the way he wants it, and get it over with. At least I get my way out of bed most of the time.

Tom dumped the shit tank and rinsed out the tanks in the trailer yesterday. He said that while he was out there, it became apparent that next door had some kind of car or house problem. All I could hear from my office was an engine revving, but I couldn’t hear them talking to each other like he said he could hear from outside. That’s one hell of an insulated house we’ve got! Also, being more than a few feet away from each other helps, too. Everything that went on over there would’ve been heard loud and clear as if we were a part of it, had it been next to the Phoenix house.

That cock that took us on a tour of the factory was wrong when he told us the “marriage line,” where the two halves peak, is 108” high. That’d be 9’, and I knew it was higher than that. Sure enough, in the papers with all the warranties, info, etc., is a layout saying it’s 114” which is 10’ high. That looks more like it. The lowest point is 7’.

Later…

Yesterday I stuck to the Slim-Fast diet like glue, making sure not to go over 1000 calories. Due to doing this, I woke up a couple of pounds lighter. However, I haven’t been able to shit today, so any amount of dieting I do will be a waste, cuz not shitting will just set my weight back to where it was. How can I get my body to diet and still shit?! Why does my body rebel against dieting?

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 12, 2000 You don’t know how much I love this house! I love this house and I love the peace and quiet! I love not having to have a fan or music on to drown out the noise unless I want them on. There’s no barking, no music, no nothing. I’m determined to enjoy every minute of it because I know that nothing stays the same forever. I’m still sure that the renters will become a problem at some point, and that it may get a little noisier as the weather warms up. Especially at dusk. It may take a hundred years, but it’s sad to know that the fate of this land is to no doubt become a subdivision similar to what we were in in Phoenix. There may not be 60 houses on our land, but there’ll be at least 30 for sure. What a sad thought to know that this peaceful, beautiful piece of land will someday be trashed and filled with hundreds of barking dogs, hundreds of screaming kids, dozens of selfish, noisy freeloaders, and God only knows what else. Oh well, I try not to let myself be saddened by the future which I can’t prevent from happening anyway. I just hope this doesn’t happen in our lifetime, cuz as it is, there should be a major difference out here in just 10 years. Within 10 years, maybe even just 5, I expect to see a house across the street and to our right. Maybe even 10 houses per lot, which would be 20 houses. Oh well again. There’s no sense in worrying about it till it happens. For now, I’m gonna enjoy every moment of peace till God feels it’s time to take that away from us and forcefully throw us back into the mainstream once again.

I’m still on a schedule, but not a highly structured one. I still want to be available during the day in case we need to go anywhere together or the cops feel like badgering me, but so far, I’m shocked and pleased to say that no one’s subpoenaed me.

I did a little cleaning today. I’ve been cleaning something or another every day, cuz I’m determined to keep up on this house from the get-go. I don’t want months and months of dust to accumulate on things, although, not everything will be dusted weekly. I’m not climbing up every week to dust the dolls that are up on top of the cabinets. I’ve decided that every Monday I’ll do the animals, every Tuesday I’ll vacuum/dust the rooms to the right of the kitchen (the kitchen’s in the middle of the house), and every Wednesday I’ll vacuum/dust the rooms to the left of the kitchen, every Thursday I’ll do the kitchen and baths, and every Friday I’ll do laundry. That is when we get a washer and dryer in two or three months. For now, we’ll be doing it whenever we can at the hotel, and also at Laundromats when we have a lot of stuff that could use more than one washer/dryer. I’m not going to bother drying clothes for the most part. They can be hung around the house to dry. I’ll just focus on getting them washed.

We went to the hotel on Monday, but Teresa wasn’t there. No one spoke to me at all as I did the clothes while he remained in the car. Thank God for letting us get in the house come January, cuz Teresa was right about January being high season. Man, was it packed! There were three people at the desk and something like half a dozen customers waiting to be served.

I said hi to Desiree, who said she and her family were leaving the next day.

I began the Slim-Fast diet, but since my stomach can’t take dairy, I’m not using their meal shakes. I’m using their meal bars. It’s supposed to have all the vitamins and minerals you need. They recommend a bar for breakfast, a bar for lunch, and a sensible dinner. So, the plan’s simple to follow, but not easy. You spend a lot of time hungry. I’m about 123 pounds and would like to be 100 pounds. I know, though, that at 34 years of age that’s just not going to happen. That’s just a dream. So, I guess I’ll have to settle for weighing between 110-115.

There’s been some flu going around that causes coughing and congestion, and of course, Tom just had to be one of the ones to get it. It’s not that bad, though. He hasn’t had to take anything for it and he’s still carrying on in life as usual.

I reformatted my typed-up journals. The books I typed up, I mean. Instead of having a file for journals 30-39, for example, I have them grouped by years. After 1995, I started writing a lot more, so I had to have two groups for 1996 because a file was too big to be backed up on floppy disks. January-June would be filed as 1996-1, and July-December would be filed as 1996-2.

Tom went to bed at 10:30 and I have to get him up at 4:00 to make the final dump of the trailer’s shit tank. Dennis and his wife are supposedly coming out this Saturday to pick up the trailer.

I began reworking my story last night.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 11, 2000 Ashley died today. The mouse with the hunchback. She had some kind of spinal defect, anyway. She wasn't one of my favorites, so it isn't hitting me hard. According to my chart, I had her for 11 months. It doesn't seem like I got Katie and Ashley that long ago.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 9, 2000 Tom went to work about an hour ago, and I’m getting ready to read.

Yesterday’s sex was the usual. At one point he tried to claim he came but didn’t get soft afterward, so he kept going. That’s not the way it works, Tom. You don’t have to be a guy to know that. I tell you, April is when he’ll cum. At least that’s what I sense right now. He’ll probably always cum 2-4 times a year. Anyway, he was all lies by saying we’d have more sex and he’d cum more, but again, I can’t complain. I may wonder at times what it would’ve been like to have a child, but 99% of the time I still don’t want one, and I’m not horny enough for more sex. Also, I don’t have to worry that I’m depriving him in any way, cuz I know he’s how he wants to be. It’s just the blatant lies that get to me and like I said earlier, everyone lies. Everyone. Parents, teachers, contractors, cops, and even spouses.

But he did one of his many things to make up for his lies, and really, the only two things he’s ever really lied to me about were pertaining to sex and having a baby, so he’s doing pretty good compared to most guys, even if some would say that that’s enough. He made an awesome entertainment center. I had been worried that for various reasons, he’d take months to do it, but he did it all over the weekend. It looks great, and it’ll look even better with a bigger TV on it. Because it’s been painted black, dolls with light-colored hair/clothing look great on it. Bailey looks great on it. I don’t know if Meli will look all that great on it, though, cuz the darker, ethnic dolls look better on whitewashed furniture. I don’t even know if I’ll ever get Meli. Jade’s not even assembled yet. We have the two speakers that were in the Phoenix living room at the sides of the entertainment center, and on one of them, just like before, sits Summer Dream. She looks so good centered on a speaker with her gown hanging down.

Will the cops harass me tomorrow in any way? Will I be subpoenaed? Or will they keep their word and let it go? Tom says he doubts I’ll hear anymore regarding the issue and I hope to hell he’s right, cuz I disagree. I think I’ll be served tomorrow. If not, then certainly some time this week. You know me. I always have to pay for everything, no matter how petty it may be. It’s everyone else that can get away with shit. I can say one thing for sure, though. They did get my mail. That’s the good part. The bad part is that they were too determined to get it to the police and get them on my ass to read it. I mean, I highly doubt they’d have read it first, then given it to the police. I think that as soon as they knew it was from me, they called the cops.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 8, 2000 Well, I haven’t heard the little boy next door yet, but I’ve seen him. He’s over there now riding a little tricycle around the back of their house which faces the side of ours. The bedroom is on the other side towards the center of our property, although closer towards the front of it than the back. I noticed a swing set over there shortly after Christmas, which I don’t believe was there before. It figures that with all the kids that play in the front of their houses out here, this one’s got to play in back. I just hope it stays quiet. Speaking of kids, I’m thrilled to say I feel no desire whatsoever to have one. In fact, if I was told I was pregnant right now, I would not be happy. There are too many other things I want to do that a child would only prohibit. So, if Tom’s happy, he can feel free to not get off later on when we screw, and besides, I knew his saying we’d have more sex and that he’d get off more often was a joke. He always says that, but that’s not what I want any more than it’s what he wants. Just like in Phoenix, though, he’s waiting till the end of the day for that, like he wants to be more tired to make it easier to hold back. I don’t know why he’d want to now, though, cuz I just finished my period. So even if I were fertile, I wouldn’t be fertile now. I guess it’s just a habit. He’s out there working on the entertainment center now, which looks like it’s coming along great. He says it’s intellectual work, not physical, and that he’s caught up on his sleep and feels fine. Wait till we get to bed, though. Then the cramps and aches will start and the fatigue will set in. The stove and oven are great. It’s funny how we have cheap countertops and little things like that, but we have top-notch appliances. The oven’s awesome! It beeps when it’s preheated and a light next to the word preheated goes on. It has a digital temperature as well as a digital clock, and setting its digital timer is a piece of cake. The oven’s self-cleaning, too. The stove is fantastic for being electric. I thought it’d take a while for the coils to heat up, but it heated up as fast as gas does! I decided to print till my ink died, and I can’t wait to get new cartridges! I had fun printing out some animal pictures and framing them, and they look like actual photographs.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 7, 2000 Yesterday, both Tom and I went through a horrid ordeal. I’ll get to it as soon as I cover some household news.

We got the ice maker working, and it sounds pretty weird. A little loud, too. Kind of sounds like someone’s bowling in a nearby room.

I’ve used our high-tech dishwasher and it’s great! I missed having a dishwasher. It has a lot of options. It even has a delay timer on it.

No house is perfect, though, as wonderful as this one is. I don’t like the dual faucets very much, or the linoleum in the entryway by the front door. Perhaps it looks nicer, but it gets so damn dirty! It would’ve been easier if it were carpet, cuz it’s a lot easier to vacuum dirt off of the carpet than it is to sweep it off of a floor. Even the utility area would be nice to have carpeted.

Also, the stupid fucks put the bedroom light switch by the project room door and not just inside the bedroom door where it should be. That’s where it belonged, but no, the stupid, brainless shits had to put it on the other side of the room.

Tom began setting up his office today and judging by the familiar patterns I see here, I was right about him not changing sexually and his not wanting sex more often. I’m glad, though, that he is who he is and that he’s still going to want it only once a week (on the weekend) because of how I’ve become. I’m not only less horny than I used to be in my 20s, but it’s just easier for me to do my own getting off when the mood strikes, which may sometimes be when he’s at work or asleep, anyway. Maybe I’m lazy or maybe I just don’t have the patience to direct him when he goes down on me so I can get off. He knows me well enough not to need much direction, but it’s easier to slow down or speed up on your own, rather than to tell someone else to slow down or speed up. Talking isn’t something someone usually wants to do when they’re trying to get off.

Tom also set up his rock tumbler which is on his dresser in the guest room right now. It’s not that loud. It’s a soothing sound, actually, but right now I can’t hear it two rooms away from where I am.

The second bathroom’s toilet is clogged up, cuz according to Tom, he took quite a dump. I knew it. I just knew it. I told him things would start breaking or being a problem way sooner and way more often than they should. We’re totally hexed with cars and toilets, as I said, and we were cursed with both of them yesterday. Not only did the toilet clog up, but he got a flat tire.

Today was the third morning I woke up in my new home without being rudely woken up by a bunch of lying cops with nothing better to do. I slept for ten hours I was so exhausted.

At 8:30 yesterday, there was a knock on the door. I dragged myself out of bed and saw that cop again and was like, Shit! Fuck! I thought he was alone till I opened the door and saw the black detective with him and all the others. There were at least 5-6 cop cars and maybe 8 cops. Some were from here, the Pinal County sheriff’s office and some were from Phoenix. So as soon as I saw they were from Phoenix, and that the detective’s shirt said Biased Crimes, I knew it was about that black bitch. Especially since it was right after my call to her.

He came in showing me a picture of Tom and asked if that was my husband. He had a picture of me, too. He said I had to come with him, refused to tell me what the matter was about, and refused to let me call Tom or even leave him a note. The little cock did let me get dressed and take my inhalers with me, though.

Then the cop from here admitted that the Robin story was bullshit. Never before have I resented cops as I do now. They’re supposed to be trustworthy, not blatant liars yet they are! I’ve learned that parents can’t be trusted, teachers can’t be trusted, cops can’t be trusted, contractors can’t be trusted…no one can be trusted!

So the detective gets in his unmarked car while I’m thrown in the backseat of a Phoenix cop car with a couple of uniformed shitheads. Don’t get me wrong. No one mistreated me in any way, they just lied their asses off. I began to wonder if there wasn’t more to this than just a simple case of a nasty phone call and letter cuz they were just going to total extremes. Then again, cops like to hype things up and put on grand shows for people all the time. Nonetheless, I asked why all the cars to go get one person and what was the story, and the stupid fuck had the nerve to say, “I don’t know.”

Yeah, right! And I don’t know my middle name, either.

“I don’t know,” the little shit said, “You’ll have to talk to Detective Jerry O” (the black Biased Crimes guy).

The people next door were out watching the whole charade, and I remember thinking that if I were one of those shy, private types who worried about what others thought, I’d be really fucking embarrassed.

We were pretty much silent during the ride to Phoenix, but I couldn’t believe it! I was in such shock. All that just to get one person? It took all those people just to get one unarmed person? And all cuz of a letter and a phone call? OK, perhaps the phone call was stepping over the line, but I should have a right to write anything I want and send it to whomever I want. It’s called “freedom of speech” and this is America. Aren’t you supposed to be able to speak or write your mind here? Doesn’t mean what you say/write is right or wrong. Doesn’t mean people have to agree with you, but it’s supposed to be people’s right, nonetheless.

The guy driving said there were so many cars cuz the Phoenix people needed to be led in cuz they couldn’t find their way. That’s fine, but you mean it took two or three Pinal County cars to lead two or three Phoenix cars? Wouldn’t one of each have been enough? Maybe, thanks to all the lies the blacks and Mexicans had to have told about me, they thought I was some armed psycho out to kill anyone who crossed me. What if we had moved to California or Florida, though? Would they have flown out to get me?

I was never as nervous as maybe I should’ve been, but I guess that’s just cuz I’ve dealt with these idiots before and made up my mind a long time ago not to let any kind of authority figures intimidate me. If anything, I was pissed. They totally reminded me of being interrogated by my parents and the staff members I had to deal with. I’m not a kid anymore. I haven’t been in years and I never will be again. I’m an adult now and I don’t owe anyone any explanations for how I live my life, so I didn’t say anything that I didn’t feel was necessary to be said. I didn’t want to risk my anger surfacing, although I made it clear how annoyed I was. I didn’t feel great physically, though. I had a headache, cramps, and a full bladder I couldn’t release for a while cuz my muscles were tied in knots.

So we get to the main police station in Phoenix, and meanwhile, I’m still not sure whether or not I was ever arrested. They didn’t tell me I was under arrest, they didn’t show me an arrest warrant or a search warrant, they never put me in a cell, never made me pay anything to get out of there, and never gave me a court date of any kind. In the end, Jerry O said that the issue would be wrapped up that day and that that was what he was shooting for. Naturally, I agreed and even volunteered to sign a paper promising never to contact these old neighbors in any way ever again. However, I don’t buy it. I don’t think his word meant shit and neither did mine. Meaning that me taking the time to make that promise meant nothing to them, cuz they knew they were gonna eventually have me served. I hate liars! Especially when they’re cops! I mean, that is sick! Sick! If you can’t trust cops, who can you trust? They’re such con artists. Again, we’re talking about a letter and a phone call. Not a murder. And why they couldn’t just level with me and tell me to expect a subpoena, makes no sense to me, although Tom says they’ll drop it and move on. Especially since they already have my word about ignoring these people. That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to do for years, but they wouldn’t let me ignore them and they still won’t, even though we don’t live with them anymore. Believe me, I don’t want to know these people exist other than in my memories!

I wonder what they would’ve done if I had refused to go with them. Tom said they’d have shown me a warrant at that point and arrested me if I hadn’t gone with them willingly. But just why did I have to go with them? Why would they take all the time out to do all that driving just to talk to me? Why couldn’t they talk to me here or call me? And how did they get this address? Tom says they could’ve tracked it down on our homeowner’s insurance, but I think they got it either from the Hs or they went through the Hs to get to Steven to get it that way.

O had journals I sent to both Joebitch and Debra V (now I know her last name and that Joebitch moved to an apartment complex. Ugh! What a demotion, huh?). He also had a tape of the messages I left Joebitch from the Fairfield. It’s obvious that they gave the cops these things as they received them and that they didn’t just suddenly give them all these things. I think they slowly built their case and that it was the call that finally got them after me. Dumb mistake, I know. What he didn’t present me with, though, was my last letter to Joebitch which was a few weeks ago.

When we got there, I met in a small room with O and a very friendly white female detective who was 40-something. Her name was Linda. While a cassette was recording the “interview,” he presented me with evidence and questions. Some of the letters were the original pages and some were photocopies. He had scattered lines highlighted. I was surprised he didn’t ask me about a lot more things than he did. He never asked me about 80% of the things I said in my letters to these people. I certainly wasn’t going to come out and say I sent this shit to these people even though it’s my right, right or wrong, mean or not, to say what I want to those people (there was no restraining order against me) and to use the postal service, as long as I don’t harm anyone, so I had to think fast. I’m very pleased with the way I handled the matter, unlike how I handled past problems with cops. It doesn’t necessarily mean it did me any good since cops like to lie and say something’s over when they know it’s not. Cops just don’t seem to be able to let go very easily and move on. It’s like, just drop it, will you? I gave you my word about these people and I fully intend to keep my word.

As figured, he asked me if the issue had anything to do with the fact that these people are black and Mexican and I told him no, it was about being harassed with noise. I didn’t tell them that they were the ones who tried to make it about race, though, cuz what good would that have done me? Tom brought up a good point, and it’s too bad that we both didn’t think about this after the fact, but I should’ve asked these cops if they saw my dolls. Why would I have black, Spanish, and Indian dolls if I were so prejudiced? Using racial slurs is just an expression for me. It may not be right, but they’re just words I use to vent and I don’t do it directly to their faces. It doesn’t mean I hate all blacks or Mexicans. These assholes’ race had nothing to do with the issue. The issue was that they deliberately harassed me for a long period of time, and they got what they deserved from me. They instigated shit with me and I spoke my mind about it and I had every right to.

Tom mentioned that living here is a point against me cuz this is where whites go that hate blacks and Mexicans. Could’ve fooled me. A couple of people next door may have some Mexican in them. The renters may be Mexican. I’ve seen Mexicans galore around here who aren’t just farmers, but Tom insists that 90% of the residents out here are white. Yeah, but either way, if cops go judging people by where they live, then they become the prejudiced ones.

Tom also said that they were trying to bait me into saying something against Mexicans/blacks, which I didn’t, cuz I don’t have anything against them in general, although at this point, after all, that’s happened, I do prefer white neighbors (when God will allow me to have them?). Just most of them. Maybe not even that, though. Just the ones who treat me like shit for no reason at all like these people did. What if I did say some kind of racial slur, though? Would I have been thrown in a cell and brought to trial simply because they didn’t agree with my vocabulary and because they didn’t like my opinions? But it would’ve been my right to say that. It may have been a lousy way to express myself, but people have a right to their opinions and a right to say who they do and don’t like. I can see if someone were standing in the middle of a parking lot swearing or calling out racial slurs, but this was different. I don’t like some blacks and some Mexicans and I have every right to my beliefs and feelings. I don’t agree with their lifestyle, and I don’t like the way they use race as a crutch, while they carry on like wild animals, ripping off our tax dollars so they can sit back and be lazy. I also happen to not like some whites either, and again, it’s my right.

I don’t know why he asked this, but he asked if I met Debra’s “boyfriend.” I knew it. I knew those two weren’t married. It’s the single people that rake in the welfare dough.

I lied my ass off, though, just like everyone else did. Just like the cops did and the blacks and Mexicans did. And yes, I will use racial slurs here cuz it’s my journal, and my right to use whatever words I want to in it. Doesn’t mean my choice of words would necessarily be most people’s choice of words, and it may not be very nice of me, but it’s my right to express my opinion. If people would only stop being so sensitive! If Tom called me a fat ugly bitch, I wouldn’t like it, but it’s his right and I wouldn’t go off the deep end over it like some people apparently would. People can’t help but feel what they feel. This doesn’t mean I haven’t met any nice black or Mexican people, and it doesn’t mean all whites are wonderful, but I just don’t care for people in general no matter what their color or race, and when you deliberately and continually harass me, I won’t like you no matter what you are. You can be purple with green polka dots and orange stripes for all I care. Just don’t wrong me.

So our little Bias fighter asked me about certain statements I made in my letters. My bogus story was that they were just thoughts and ideas I typed and printed out that I no longer wanted and threw in the recycle bin. Also, that’s where I threw some old water-stained manila envelopes, too. I then said Miss N obviously took them, forged my handwriting, then sent them to her and Debra, assuming they knew each other and were out to retaliate against me for the city complaints I made. That was my explanation for my fingerprints being on the stuff. I only admitted to the phone call and said I was sorry and ashamed of my handling the situation as I did, and explained that some of the things I said in my journal were just my way of venting. That last statement is entirely true, too. I did vent a lot in the journals, and sometimes I did say a lot of extreme things. Also, to explain the mumbo-jumbo, I told them my computer crashed a lot, fouling things up, and that I didn’t always bother to fix broken sentences. I couldn’t say I was just trying to be weird and confusing, cuz that’d say I did mail these things to them. The cops aren’t stupid, I’m sure, any more than I’m stupid enough to buy their lies, but hey, if they’re gonna bullshit me, and if old neighbors are gonna bullshit them, why should I be Miss Honest? I cooperated just enough to appear decent enough, so to speak. To appear willing to face, admit, clear up, and move on in life. I may not have fessed up to the degree they would’ve liked, but I wasn’t an all-out uncooperative, rude, blatant liar, either.

I used a lot of bogus names in their letters just to be confusing, and he asked me if I knew those people. I denied most of them, then said a friend of the family was named Al, for example. He asked me about some of the old pictures I had enclosed, and I explained that I liked to decorate the paper I’d write on. When he pulled out the page I sent Deb with my finger, I said I had just been playing around with the digital camera (he actually found that one amusing), and again, I insisted these were things I disposed of that they dug up. I also insisted that they trashed our yard (that much is true), spray-painted our wall, egged our windows, prank-called us, sent us threatening letters, and that I was afraid to call the cops or go to court for fear of retaliation against me and Tom (the blacks really did drop us a few notes and a few calls).

I forgot to say that they wouldn’t let me call Tom, who had to have been terrified and wondering if I’d been kidnapped, for about an hour after I got there, but he got in later than he expected and by then, Mr. Biased had left him a few messages. Tom said Mr. Biased said something about how it hadn’t yet been decided if I’d be booked. You mean to tell me they were considering booking me over words? Words on a phone and words on paper? I thought actions were what mattered. I didn’t do anyone any bodily harm, so why would they even consider throwing me in jail? Just out of pure spite?

Anyway, he kept insisting that because I was an adult, I couldn’t make a phone call, but I corrected him on that and let him know that I knew that everyone brought into a police station has a right to one phone call. When he knew that I knew that, he gave in.

At one point he was asking me about Tom and questioned if he was involved, but I assured him that he wasn’t in any way involved.

After our so-called interview, Linda took me downstairs for fingerprinting. I asked why they were needed when they should have those on file and those are supposed to be good for life, and she said it was so they could have an updated set on their new system. A woman tried to scan them in on their computer, but she had problems with that so she did them the old-fashioned way with ink (the computer was saying mismatch or reject on some of my fingers). All that over me writing my opinion! Because I expressed my thoughts, feelings, and beliefs, I had to go through all this shit. I didn’t write a sexually explicit letter to a ten-year-old, for crying out loud! I didn’t threaten to kill them. At least not directly. But I did say things like how nice it’d be if they’d all drop dead, but who wouldn’t if they were treated like I was? Everyone’s forgetting the big picture here. Either that, or they just don’t want to see it, but the big picture is that I’m the victim here. Not them. They abused me, and it really burns me up to have to be dragged through all this shit while they get off Scot-free from any kind of punishment for what they did to me. If they hadn’t harassed me, there’d never have been a problem. They brought this on themselves and they are their own worst enemy.

Linda was the nicest to me. She was so friendly and so encouraging. She suggested I use my writing in a productive way, and I told her that I’ve been thinking of doing that. It’s just that I haven’t had time or opportunity to with the move, and we discussed that, too.

There were a lot of women cops there. Maybe more than guys. Some were feminine and some were butchy. Especially this one that was talking with Linda and the fingerprinting lady. She had to be the most masculine lesbian I ever did see. Everything but her voice was totally male. So male I’ll bet she doesn’t even get periods. Gayness is because of hormone levels, and I’ll bet the reason I can’t conceive has to do with a hormone imbalance. Not that I’m butchy, but there is some masculinity to me what with my aggressiveness, and this could cause a slight alteration in hormone levels which needs to be very precise, from what I’ve heard, in order for conception to occur.

Linda was the only one who cared enough to help me find a ride home. All the others were typical pigs - they’ll give you a ride when they want you for something, but then they’ll leave you stranded when they’re finished with you. Because no one could reach Tom, the only other number I could think of to call was Mary’s. I explained to her that Mary and Dave would be out, and let her know about Ma and Evelyn. She called and Evelyn said she’d pay for a cab to take me there (Evelyn doesn’t have a car). I asked if she told Evelyn the story, and she said she only told them that I was OK, but that it wasn’t any of their business unless I wanted to tell them.

Evelyn came out as soon as my cab pulled up and she paid the $15 fare. She said to go inside so Ma wouldn’t worry anymore. They had thought at first that I was in an accident or something. By this time, they reached Tom, and Tom, who was very supportive, sweet, and loving, was on his way to get me. I was afraid he’d be rather upset, distant, and go lecturing me for hours. Not that he was any more thrilled than I was, he was great and it was wonderful to have him and to be able to run into Ma’s outstretched arms like I did when I entered the house. I certainly didn’t have that in the past when I had to deal with the cops back east. Either no one cared, or they just couldn’t deal with it well because they had too many of their own problems to deal with.

I see what Tom means about Evelyn, though, who says we did meet at Mary’s wedding. I just don’t remember her. She’s definitely not someone I’d want to live with and I can see the Doe in her, but for short, infrequent interactions like this, she’s tolerable. She hates the dog for biting her and is afraid of him, so he was outside. That way I didn’t have to be afraid of him, too (Tom’s not afraid of him or dogs in general). She was insistent upon feeding me since she gets so bored sitting around there every day. At first, I was too tense to eat, but then I appreciated the bagel she made me cuz I hadn’t eaten at all.

The story I gave them was that I was wanted as a witness for questioning in regards to the old neighbors, then went on to tell them about how they harassed us. To say this wasn’t straying far from the truth if even at all from the truth.

It was so good to finally be home again. With the corrupt, power-hungry ways cops have, I didn’t know when I’d be home, although deep down I think I knew they’d go by the book as far as that went, which said they had no reason to hold me and let me go.

Tom said he came in and assumed I was still asleep. But I usually close the bedroom door when I’m asleep, I told him, and he said he figured I got up, then fell back asleep without closing the door. Then, after a few minutes of bopping around (I had told him to wake me up when he got in with coffee from Circle K), he thought it odd that the noise hadn’t stirred me. When he approached the bed, he said he thought I was under the covers, but when he pulled back the covers, all he found was that long pillow I nestle into. He was concerned at that point, and that’s when he checked for messages and got the black pig’s messages. I guess it’s a good thing he didn’t get in on time, cuz then he’d have had an hour or more to wait till he could find out where the hell I was and he’d have been frantic with worry.

If there’s anything I’ve learned about the people of Arizona, it’s that they’re bold. Real fucking bold! They’re determined, persistent, desperate, gutsy people. The stuff I wrote, designed to deter them from contacting the cops, obviously didn’t work, but that took guts! Think about it. To be willing to go to the cops about someone’s letter to you, despite all the things they accused you of in the letter, is really desperate. Some of the things I accused them of, of course, were true and some weren’t, but I’d be afraid that the cops would be too confused to know who to believe. Well, these people out here certainly don’t fear a thing and are so hateful and vindictive! It’s scary what people will risk just to get at you.

Anyway, enough black and Mexican talk. If the cops will allow it, they’re out of my life for good. From here on out my only connection to them will be a smile on my face when every weekend rolls around that I don’t have to listen to their shit and deal with their antics, hour after hour of the day and night.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 5, 2000 Can you believe that on my first day in the new house I got woke up? Figures, huh? Last night I didn’t get to sleep till nearly 4 AM what with all the excitement of finally being in here. It’s the latest I’d been up since last July or August. So I was still a bit tired when there was a knock on the front door at 10:00. I could hear it over the ocean waves on my sound machine (I decided the fan on a stand was too quiet to mask the sounds of the animals). In a daze, I stumbled to the door and asked who it was. “Sheriff’s office,” came the reply.

Oh, shit! I thought. This has to be about that black bitch in Phoenix, and it’s too late to pretend no one’s home. So I told him to hang on a sec, grabbed my robe, and opened the door to a young white cop in uniform. Friendly enough, though. He asked if I was Robin, and that he came to deliver news that her father was ill. So I told them who we were and that we just moved in. He said he’s never been past Bitter Root before, apologized for the disturbance and left. When I told Tom about it later, he said he thinks that the cop was out to arrest this Robin and that the father being ill was just a cover story. Well, if that was the case, thank God the cop believed me when I told him who I was and didn’t arrest me.

Yesterday at the grocery store, I noticed they had a new round of sitting musical dolls, so I bought a cute one in a pink satin dress with ruffles and flowers. She has blue eyes and brown hair which I’ve got in two ponytails. She has a little bouquet tied to one wrist.

I fixed a clip on one of Dennis’ cabinets. The spring got stuck so the clip got hung up and wouldn’t keep the door closed. I had to unscrew it to fix it, then screw it back on. The trailer’s now virtually empty of our stuff. Just a few cleaning supplies and papers are over there.

It’s amazing that we struggled for months to get into this house, just to suddenly have it all done and ready. We got water and electricity yesterday. The trenches were filled in and the skirting was replaced, too. All that took three fucking months. There’s no excuse for it, and like I said, I’m not about to forget all the hell and all the money that these incompetent fucks cost us. They may be just about finished with us, but I’m not finished with them. They will lose their business licenses and they will get their asses kicked by me, whether we settle in or out of court. Tom said that at this point, the ridiculous amount of time it took us to get in here isn’t nearly as much of a problem for him as all the blatant lies are. As he told Steven, we’re now very aware that they’re all crooks who are a part of the same organization to scam people. That little fuck Dan deliberately said we’d hit water at 550’ when he knew damn well we wouldn’t, just to get the bid so he could try to charge more later when the extra footage needed to be drilled. Well, Dan’s gonna be in for a surprise cuz the loan’s done and finished. Meaning that he’s not getting one penny extra than what we originally agreed on. No one ever permitted him to do what there wasn’t money for, anyway. All he had to do was tell us the truth as far as the water table goes, and we would’ve made sure there was enough money for it in the loan. Like I said, I do intend to take Steven and this little shit down. They won’t be scamming anybody else once I get through with them. I’m telling you, from here on out I’m fighting back when people fuck with us, and I’m doing it my way. I don’t care if you’re a neighbor, a contractor, or God!

Today the fight for the washer and dryer began, although Steven says he is sending the money for it, but I’m like - are we ever gonna be free of these people?! I just want a day in my life without Steven and Dan in it. Can’t we just settle on a reasonable price, avoid the hassles of court, and be done with each other so I can be free to kick their asses with nothing to lose? I can’t wait to go after these cocks! I swear, though, my life has been nothing but periods of problems with different groups of people. First it was the problems with the parents, then the staff members I had to deal with at the hospitals and “schools” I was in, most of whom weren’t any more with it than the patients. Then it was on to shit with neighbors, and now contractors. Am I ever gonna be free from other people controlling and fucking up my life on a regular basis? Am I ever gonna be free from the stress, frustration, and anger they cause? And if so, what’s God’s compensation to me gonna be?

I’m with Tom when he said that from now on, we’ll fix our own stuff around here. We are totally fed up with having to fix this and fix that and do other incompetent cock’s jobs for them cuz they were too stupid and lazy to do it right in the first place.

Poor Tom had to lose more sleep just to go under the house and get all muddy to tighten a loose pipe thanks to Brian or one of his assistants.

Gravity came by this evening to collect a water sample to be tested. Our water’s still a bit sandy.

Although Gravity and Brian have fucked up too (though not nearly as much as Steven and Dan, cuz those too were deliberately out to screw us, whereas Gravity and Brian were just plain stupid) they’ve been the nicest to us and more reliable as far as showing up to do things goes.

Tom said that the kennel was wild last night, but I didn’t hear it. He said tons of dogs were going mad and that it was quite loud outside. It’s nice that I didn’t hear it in here, but hanging outside when it gets warmer, especially at night, may be anything but peaceful.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 4, 2000 Well, so much for finding a wonderful personal page drop-off because I won't be needing it! Yes, we're in the house, but I'll write later!

MONDAY, JANUARY 3, 2000 I left my notebook at the house, so I thought I’d write for a bit on one of the hotel’s little notepads.

I forgot to mention that I woke up Sunday morning at 7:30, and immediately I could smell the rain. Yeah, we had our first rain out at our place, where I am now since we bought it. It wasn’t much of a storm. It was so windy that it didn’t last long, nor did it rain very hard.

This morning I awoke on my own and went downstairs for coffee. I got up at 9:30, so I missed breakfast.

Tom came in about a half-hour later and we went to the Circle K by the hotel. This one’s kind of annoying cuz the employees are always in the way mopping floors and stocking shelves.

After we grabbed some sandwiches and a few snacks, we headed home to find out good news and bad news.

The good news was that not only did the inspector return, the house passed inspection. He was also friendlier this time, too. Not so snobby. He had been pressured cuz of the holiday stress.

What was the source of the bad news? The well, as usual. Actually, it was both good and bad news. It was good that the fucking idiots got it done after so long (and the fuckers have said it’d only take three days! Ha!), but he couldn’t get the pump going. After testing everything out, it all proved to be OK and operable. It’s just that the stupid cock was unprepared and unorganized, as usual. The fuck didn’t have a high-powered enough generator to start the damn thing. APS promised they’d install our meter box one business day after we called them once we passed inspection, which means they should be out tomorrow if they keep their word. So, as unbelievable as it is to finally have some electricity, we should have it tomorrow. Shithead Dan said to call him on his cell phone when we get electricity. Tom hopes that once we have regular electricity, everything will run fine and we can move in tomorrow, but I don’t know. I can see us having electricity, but water? I doubt it. I’m sure there’ll be some problem as always.

After this shit’s taken care of, I wonder how long we’ll have to wait for a washer and a dryer? Will we have to fight tooth and nail for that, too? It wouldn’t surprise me. I already told Teresa it’d be quite likely that we’d need to use their washer and dryer for a week or two after finally moving in.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 2, 2000 We’re at the hotel now and Tom left for work a little while ago.

In 15 minutes I plan to watch my 1st movie of the century since it’s quiet enough around here for that. It’s about Laura Ingalls’s true-life story (the woman portrayed in one of my favorite TV series of the 70s - Little House on the Prairie). It’ll be interesting to see if this decade’s gonna have childbirth in 90% of the shows, movies, and commercials, and I’ll bet it will. Just a gut feeling, I guess. I’m so sick of TV’s drugs, sex, and childbirth, though!

As for me? What will this decade hold? A continuance of having to listen to other people’s noise? I’m afraid so. Call it ESP, call it a gut feeling, call it anything, but I still firmly believe our area will build up and get noisy just as soon as we get settled in.

But what if I’m wrong? If I’m wrong, what will my new ongoing curse be? I still get the feeling of something bad to come sometime this year, but I don’t know what.

My vibes say Tom’s wrong about this week being our last week of having to stay in hotels, but what a surprise, huh?

I typed up both journals and part of the 16 pages I had in #77. Soon I’ll type up the notebook pages. I’ve typed approximately 70 pages on the computer.

I know how shy and private Tom is so I tore out personal pages, then threw the rest in a manila envelope for Paula. There were 10 pieces of paper, which I originally planned to split between the freeloaders and H’s, but naturally, I’d have had to mail them from here. I didn’t have any stamps or envelopes, though, so I asked Teresa for some. She said she couldn’t give me stamps but could give me envelopes, although they’d have the hotel’s return address on them. No thanks, I told her, which was good cuz I found a better place for them.

Later…

The hotel’s 42% full and no one’s next to, across, or under us. Teresa said to hope we don’t have to spend too much of January here cuz that’s high season. That’s not comforting to know.

Can you believe our room cost 70 fucking bucks? I’m gonna kill Steven and Dan! I really am. They’ve raised the rates now that the holidays are over. We’ve lost so much time and money to these fucked up cocks! I swear they will get theirs! Aside from any mail I may send them or any punches I may afflict upon them, we’re trying very hard to reach a settlement with them we all can agree on and avoid court. There are enough warped judges out there who could rule against all parties involved. This may mean that Steven, Dan, and the others didn’t get their money which would be great, but it could also mean we could lose the house and Palm Harbor could take it back. Then I’d really have people to kill! Fine. I’m all for skipping court. You know I don’t believe in having others fight my battles for me, anyhow. I want to deal directly with those who’ve fucked us over. I want to kick their asses and have their business licenses pulled.

As I was saying earlier about the better place I found for my personal pages, well, I’m leaving them in the room in a place they won’t be discovered in for a long, long time. See, the box spring’s affixed to a box that’s sort of affixed to the floor. There’s a slight gap between the box and the box spring. You can’t see the pages I slipped in there and I couldn’t retrieve them if I wanted to cuz it’d be virtually impossible to get the box spring off the little box it sits on. A box may not be the correct word for it. It’s more like the walls of a sandbox, a pedestal perhaps? I’ll stick pages in my notebook in there too, once they’re typed up.

Tracy’s still here. This time it was her turn to ask me when I’d be done with the machines. I was just finishing up with the laundry at that time.

Maybe, just maybe, things are gonna change on TV this new decade after all. Although it’s only two days into the new decade, there wasn’t one bit of the usual shit on TV that I’m so incredibly sick of. I hesitated to watch the Laura Ingalls movie cuz I needed a new subject to watch on TV for a change. A decade of the same old topics has bored me to death. Oh, I got new topics, all right! The movie was so boring. There were no drugs, sex, or childbirth, but I didn’t expect a movie all about blizzards in 1881 and crops gone bad, but hey, it was different for a change. I couldn’t get myself to sit through the whole thing, though.

Now I know who “Raymond” is. Remember I mentioned that in one of my calls to Andy, he said, “Everybody loves Raymond?” Well, Everybody Loves Raymond is a new TV show.

Back to my book till bedtime. One more thing first - I never did hear any music yesterday, even though we didn’t shut down the generator till 9:30. Also, no gunfire woke me up this morning as I expected.

Later…

It’s a little hard to concentrate on reading right now cuz all I can think about is all the money we’ve lost, thanks to Steven and Dan, and how much I want to beat the living snot out of them!

The inspector’s “supposed” to come back tomorrow. Tom says there’ll be no problem when he comes back, but I know better. We’ll have yet something else we’ll have to do before it can be inspected.

I’m so stressed and PO’d right now!

SATURDAY, JANUARY 1, 2000 Maricopa, AZ

Age 34

And now for my first entry of the new millennium and being in the house at last! I’m not gonna put my address at the head of each file since I plan to be here all my life, and if I’m not, I won’t be moving for many years to come!

Tom, the computer expert, was right. The Y2K fear was a joke. Everyone was worried their computers wouldn’t work at the turn of the century, but Tom said they’d be fine. Well, mine certainly is.

Until we ever get the hell in this house, I’m gonna go back and forth between typing up my current stuff here and in my notebook. I’ll use the notebook when I’m at the hotel.

Tom came home tired and achy from his cold and crashed. He had to work today for a few hours. He was sad cuz he accidentally hit and killed a coyote on the way to work. It came darting out in front of him on the highway as he was going to work and froze right in front of the car. He didn’t have time to avoid hitting it. It’s too bad, but these things happen.

I forgot to mention that my Peruvian Barbie came with a stand. As my shit doll luck would have it, though, it’s a little too tall, so her feet don’t touch the bass of the stand. It looked a little funny; like she was floating, so I put my princess Barbie on it and she looks great. That’s because her gown goes to her feet and you can’t see that her feet don’t touch the bass.

I put batteries in the old box Steve gave me in ‘89, in case I forgot to mention that too, and I use that while I’m in the trailer. When we go to the hotel, I take the portable CD player.

If there were any parties last night, I wouldn’t know. We had the generator running till after midnight. I do expect to hear music tonight, though, unless the generator’s running. This morning, just like on Christmas day, there was no gunfire. This doesn’t surprise us, although tomorrow will be totally obnoxious with that and they’ll wake me up for sure. Even with a foam earplug.

It’s become my New Year’s Eve tradition since quitting smoking to get a 4-pack of wine coolers. I pulled one out yesterday afternoon and jokingly said to Tom, “Can I go throw this in next door’s carport?” Ha, ha. Hee, hee!

It’s also somewhat of a tradition to get “visions” of some sort on New Year’s, but this year, all I really got were a series of disjointed, conflicting images (at least I didn’t sense/see anything worse than what we’re going through with trying to get in the house). Tom said that maybe that means I’ve now got freedom of choice in what I do. That’d be a first. Especially when it comes to non-material things. I don’t know, though. It’s awfully hard to believe that after all this time I’ve suddenly got free will when God won’t even let me live in my own home. Something doesn’t want me living in this new house!

I was right on most of my 1999 predictions, as usual, and also as usual, he was wrong on most of his. My predictions for 2000 are very simple - no changes, although we obviously won’t be living in a little old house in Phoenix with loud freeloaders a few feet away! The only significant change that could very well be is that he may leave the bank this year.

The guy that was with Dan came out to put the pump in yesterday. Tom went to bed long before he left, and I never spoke to him, but I know there’s a problem, even though Tom said it looks done. As soon as I saw him on the phone, shortly before he left, I knew they fucked something else up (while God sat up above and let it happen). Well, we’ll find that out this week.

The guy brought along his pregnant girlfriend, or wife, who helped him at times, and her 3-year-old son. It’s an understatement to say that kids are the equivalent of wild animals. I watched the thing run around in circles, screaming at the top of its lungs for 15 minutes. Is this all kids do? Run around and yell and scream? What does this do for them? Just what do they get out of it?

I couldn’t help but feel that there was a message being sent to me pertaining to this little boy’s presence, although I don’t know what. I mean, this is the very shit I moved away from! I move away from screaming kids, and what does God do? He brings them out here to me! It’s like I’ve been followed. God obviously hasn’t been trying to tell me all these years that he wants me to have one of these or else he’d have made sure I had one by now, so is it something else? I keep feeling like I’m missing something here. Like he’s been trying to tell me something for years. I know the boy’s presence meant something. I couldn’t work with kids, if that’s what he’s been trying to tell me he wants me to do, cuz even if I had easy access to transportation, I have no qualifications for that. Truthfully, I haven’t the desire to do so, either.

Tom says this is normal, and maybe it’s a new thing or a southwestern thing, but I think it’s so unprofessional to take friends and family to work. Those are supposed to be left at home. To me, it falls along the lines of mixing business with pleasure.

We saw next door taking things from the shacks, loading them into a pickup, then driving them up to the house. Tom thinks the county may have gotten on them about having such rundown, dangerous shacks and maybe ordered them to tear them down. And rebuild something for someone to live in, right? Or maybe for the boy over there to play in so he can be too close to us? Those shacks may be about 200’ away from us, but if a kid was playing over there, I could easily end up hearing it in my office. Those shacks are so ugly, that I wouldn’t miss them if they were torn down, but the question is - then what will they do? Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Perhaps they only moved stuff, not knowing if we’d be tempted to run over and steal it.

We watched the ball go down in Times Square, and for this year and this year alone, they used a ball they never used before and that they’ll never use again. It was a crystal ball made in England. The ball didn’t look much different than the usual ball. It was what they did afterward that was different. They had spectacular fireworks that seemed to go on forever! It was so exciting that a part of me wished I was there. Then they did a song specially created for this year, then the usual New Year tune they play. We also saw fireworks from all over the world. They had an awesome display of fireworks shot off the Eiffel Tower in France that was like - wow!

I decided that along with a letter to Paula, I’d send Dureen and Art a letter explaining the move, house, plans for the house, etc., and send it now, rather than wait and enclose it with all the pictures I’m gonna send them in a big envelope. I’ll still send the pictures, but that’ll be within a few months when the house is fully set up. For starters, I got the letter off to them in a regular envelope with a sheet containing a few shots of the house just after it arrived.

[boop-le-snoot]

@buckyownsmylife hey babe! Remember that one time you threw that cool challenge? Here's my entry. Prepare to get absolutely ruined because daddy!Bruce is exactly that sort of man.

main masterlist ☀️ taglist

emotional support nerd

Your best friend's dad, Dr. Bruce Banner, is hotter than you thought he would be. 6k words, NSFW. Kind of Alt!Reader - she refers to herself as 'goth' in one instance. Tony Stark makes an appearance because God forbid I write a fanfic without him in it.

This is filthy pron, ft. age difference (reader is college aged) daddy kink, throat fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, belly bulge and ending with a hint at a threesome. I really crammed all I could from Eyre's wheel in here, didn't I. Oh well.

"How much longer, dad?" Lyra's annoyed voice struck a chord within me. I tried to hide my snickering - unsuccessfully might I add - causing my best friend to shoot me a hurt look, equally fed up with me as she was fed up with her forgetful adopted father. "You know what, we'll take the subway."

Lyra's father's voice, both agitated and apologetic, reached my ears in bitten-off phrases as the traffic noises around us grew in volume, NYC rush hour rapidly approaching its peak.

With a sound huff, Lyra removed the phone from her ear, staring me down with the most amount of petulance I've ever seen on her usually reserved, placid face. "It's twenty more minutes. Apparently he's driving Tony's car," she offered in the way of explanation, like it actually did anything to better the cold, wet situation we found ourselves in. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, please don't be weird."

I felt a flood of amusement at Lyra's pleading tone. "Darling, if you wanted a normal friend, you should have looked elsewhere," I gestured to my outfit. I looked like a goth boy's wet dream: chunky platformed boots, fishnets, heavy eyeliner. Of course, all in black.

"You know what I mean," she whined, waving off my pointing hand and fixing me with a hard stare. "The least my dad needs is someone that is terrified of him just because sometimes he turns into a big green monkey. It's not as exciting as internet thinks, anyway," the last part of the sentence was mumbled but I heard it nonetheless as Lyra stared out into the traffic, clever eyes looking for a particular car model.

What Lyra didn't know was that I was not at all considering to be terrified by the man who dosed himself with radiation and developed an advanced version of split personality disorder. I could be intimidated by him, sure, because he was incredibly intelligent, a world class scientist with more PhDs than I had zeroes in my bank account, but even despite his green problem, Dr. Bruce Banner was about as far away from 'scary' as a man could be.

The few scarce pictures of him on the internet showed a short, stocky man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper curls, always dressed in un-ironed, crumpled button-ups with dorky patterns. Looking at him, I mused that there was a high chance he spoke with a stutter and that fact amused me to no end. Jekyll and Hyde, alright.

Lyra was much the same way. Shy and reclusive, with curly brown hair and doe eyes, she spent a good chunk of her first semester in college being avoided by everybody because of her last name; I, on the other hand, avoided everyone out of habit, I'd never been a social butterfly, but the way people subtly made sure to exclude Lyra from all the activities filled me with quiet, seething rage, and I stepped over my general distaste of people and removed my bag from the seat next to me so Lyra could at least study in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all, I'm sure. Weird goth chick adopts a socially awkward, shunned nerd and they become best friends forever. I had to admit that under the shy exterior, Lyra was smart, witty and even funny sometimes. She was willing to entertain my crude jokes without moaning, at least, and I was perfectly okay with listening to her rant about science every now and then.

Rain banged on the slanted roof of the café we were hiding in, the autumn wind howled, making both of us shiver at the prospect of having to go outside, even if it was for a short moment to run to Lyra's dad's car. The day had started out warm and sunny, but much like a badly calculated chemical formula, it all went downhill a split second after we had set out to leave campus.

"There he is," the grouch in Lyra's expression had me once again unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my snorting.

Nonetheless, I followed her out into the rain, struggling to keep up with the brisk running in my platformed shoes, unceremoniously crawling into the car behind her without sparing a glance at the driver in my eagerness to get out of the freezing downpour.

"Hi, dad," Lyra's tired voice spoke up at the same time as I angrily shook out my hair.

"I've just about McFuckin' had it with New York," I was afraid the dye in my hair would bleed out into my clothes, or even worse, the nice, cream-colored car seats.

"Hello, ladies," the voice that greeted us was low, gravelly and apologetic to boot.

My eyes shot up, meeting an expression full of surprise and amusement. I stared at the shockingly handsome face of Dr. Bruce Banner like a deer in the headlights.

The fine mimic wrinkles had stretched into a resemblance of a smile, soft, plush lips revealing a set of straight, white teeth. The five o'clock shadow framed his jaw, giving it a sharp, defined edge, his clever brown eyes slid down my form, faltering on the pentagram on my belt and my fishnet-covered legs, settling on my chunky boots before hastily snapping back up to my face.

"Dad, this is..." Lyra's voice was full of suspicious bewilderment as she attempted to dissipate the sudden awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, but you can call me Doc or Bruce," he cleared his throat, turning himself towards the windshield and starting up the car.

"Nice to meet you," I busied myself with putting away any stray hair just to occupy myself with something during the time I needed to recuperate from being just... Looked at by Lyra's dad.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was so taken aback by his handsomeness and his aura of a gentle but powerful man that the ride to Stark tower, however swift, went on in slightly awkward silence. The streets outside were, thankfully, noisy, and the lack of an attempt to have a conversation could easily be attributed to Bruce's need to focus on the road, but Lyra's increasingly concerned looks did very little to settle the sudden racing of my heart.

"C'mon, I'll give you some sweats so you can let your..." Lyra's vague gesture towards my upper body disappeared behind her side of the door. "Hey, Tony," she suddenly interrupted her sentence, very obviously addressing another person who I managed to miss as Bruce parked in the spacious garage.

"I've been told you're finally bringing your friend, Green Pea," a voice I'd heard a thousand times on the TV poked fun at Lyra.

She bent down to retrieve her bag, shooting big eyes at me and mouthing an exaggerated "Sorry!"

Tony Stark looked about a week in debt on sleep, a contrast to the way he usually appeared in public. The exaggerated eyebrow raise made me shuffle awkwardly in my spot; the Led Zep tee caught my eyes as I lingered on it, aware of my own Mötorhead top on display. He noticed it too, causing his face leave the snide territory.

"Wow, I didn't expect kids these days to have any resemblance of taste in music but you've surprised me, Corpse Bride," he gave me a quiet wolf-whistle, watching me through lidded eyes.

I felt my eyebrow crawl upwards at his attitude but Bruce spoke up before I could say anything: "Tony, no," so firmly, I had to raise both of my eyebrows. I felt a smile tug at my lips, the situation strikingly familiar in it's essence. Like father, like daughter...

"No," Lyra's identical expression, fond and annoyed, topped up with an accusing finger pointed in my direction had everyone snorting a giggle at the situation.

"Lyra," I whined, just so I could coax her grin that she was very obviously trying to conceal. "See, I told you, every crazy genius needs their emotional support nerd," I fixed her with a pointed look.

She promptly grabbed me by the arm, leading all of us to the elevator as the two men behind us shared a hearty laugh at my well-timed joke. It was either that or I would have completely embarrassed myself by gaping and drooling over both THE Tony Stark and Lyra's father.

The rush didn't stop there. I was promptly and generously offered not only a spare pair of pants but also a whole room to stay in after an invitation to dinner I simply could not refuse. Dr. Banner firmly coaxed me into staying overnight with his pleading eyes and a hearty seasoning of guilt tripping, softly crooning how he simply could not let a young woman to wander the cold, rainy night in NYC alone.

Tony added something too, in a tone way too surefire and patronising. I guessed he noticed my eyes lingering on Dr. Banner, being a genius and all.

In a short amount of time, I found myself seated at a dinner table next to a happy, giggling Lyra who'd downed a glass of wine and was well into her second. I found it adorable how much of a lightweight she was; not hesitating in the slightest to point out that fact when she made hands for a pitcher of water.

Tony was the first one to snark back something vague about his college days and all the wild parties he used to throw, booing Bruce upon discovery that he, in fact, actually studied in college in favour of partaking in various illicit activities. That had both me and Tony giggling with Lyra promptly joining in, both of us losing it over the running joke or her being either a test tube baby or the result of immaculate conception.

Bruce's face blushed scarlet. He sputtered, a few stray drops of his lemonade landing on the (ironed!) collar of his purple shirt, cough disappearing in the wake of Tony's truly amused cackling. Dr. Banner was well on his way to either choke on his Lo Mein or turn green; thinking quickly, I decided to defuse a situation by sharing a harmless, funny story that happened to me as a freshman.

"I went on a date with this guy who said that music was the most important thing in his life, and I thought, wow, that's so beautiful!" I began my story over Lyra's incessant snickering. "So we had dinner and went back to his place because I'm a whore," the whole table erupted in laughter at my deadpan remark, Tony reaching over to give me a high five.

"And as we got there, he put on one of his demos which was just a bunch of sampled and remixed Guns'n'Roses songs, and I thought wow, that's gotta be one of the worst things I've ever heard," I pointedly looked away as Lyra's cackling grew in volume, having heard the same story several times by now and the outrage I expressed at the situation first hand.

"But instead of that I said, wow, that's so cool! Then we did the thing and his whole bedroom was covered in Axl Rose posters and I'm sure at some point Mr. Rose stared right up my asshole," there were tears streaming down Lyra's face as Tony flopped his upper body onto the table and Bruce convulsed helplessly in a silent fit of giggles. "And then I thought to myself: wow, I would have to pretend to like his music if I dated this guy and I just couldn't do that..." I breathed out, succumbing to the mirth at the dinner table. "It was good but not November Rain good, y'kno?"

Bruce snorted loudly, sliding down his chair with a hand over his face. The table shook with the force of Tony's cackling; I didn't see his expression but the howling, rasping noises sent me into another fit of laughter, right on par with Lyra.

"Is this..." Tony rapidly inhaled the much-needed oxygen. "Is this why you keep wincing whenever I play the 'Roses in the lab?" Tony wheezed and Lyra nodded.

"I just... I can picture it, and I-" she made a vague, encompassing gesture and a face.

"Please, don't," I urged with a snort. "There are better ways to get disappointed."

Dinner went on by smoothly after that, everybody happily making remarks on my dating fail, the topic of Lyra's birth and Tony's college shenanigans dismissed.

I caught Dr. Banner's pointed look as we finished our dessert - he was studying me, eyes searching for something that he very obviously wished was there. From the damp roots of my hair to the soft, cotton top clinging to my chest, I wasn't left unscrutinzed and unexamined. Like one of the many specimens he studied on a daily basis, Bruce lingered on the many characteristics that made me stand out in the grey crowd.

"Would you like to see the labs?" He asked, appearing behind me without a single sound.

The freshly cleaned dishes clattered in my arms. I'd almost dropped them, startled, but Bruce's hand landed on the top of the stack right before the top plate would have slipped off and shattered into pieces on the cold tile of his kitchen.

Blood rushed to my ears. "I'd love to," my brain had briefly returned to reality, the rush of meeting both Stark and Banner succumbing to logic and reason. My and his fields of study briefly overlapped, the question he posed was more than reasonable. In fact, many people would cheat, lie and steal to be in my position.

Bruce smiled, opening a cabinet and taking half of the dishes I was holding to stack them up in their proper place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing wide, muscular forearms littered with dark, coarse hair.

I was sure my face was flaming. After waving off Lyra's attempts to put shoes on me and leaving her to watch her TV show, a wide, warm palm rested on the back of my waist, gently steering me towards the elevator.

I tried to keep my eyes off Bruce in the large mirror on the walls of the car as it swiftly moved down, scrutinizing my appearance instead. My throat bobbed, the elevator car suddenly too small and too hot.

His eyes left marks on me - invisible ones, the kind that I knew were there just from the scorching heat sizzling on my skin.

There was a certain je ne sais quoi about him. Perhaps, it was in the way he was acting - a polar opposite of what I'd had expected, Dr. Bruce Banner possessed a quiet confidence and his patience appeared to be endless, heartily doused with an appreciation for his closest ones. The way his eyes lit up in response to people smiling around the dinner table was hard to miss.

When Bruce spoke about his research - whatever wasn't classified, anyway - the spark expanded into a mischievous fire. I could hardly understand the nuances in his work, scratch that- I could not understand a single word he was saying, at all. The individual syllables registered as they should, but my traitorous brain could only focus on the way he licked his lips in between quickly inhaled breaths.

"You're not... Following, are you?" The corner of his mouth lifted upwards, clever brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling. But to deny the obvious would have been a stretch. "No, not really," I swallowed, willing my eyes to lift from the large veins on the hand that was pointing at a set of equations. Reasonably good at math any day, they looked like the scribbles of a madman to me at the time.

Dr. Banner sighed, letting silence creep among the whirring machinery in the lab for a brief moment. "I don't scare you?" He removed his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt.

The question reeked of self-doubt and, perhaps, insecurity. "No," I answered simply, not giving him the slightest chance to find doubt in my words. I was barely holding my voice from shaking, afraid he'd misunderstand my reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere.

He was closer to me than I recalled. My hip was almost brushing his, the bulk of his shoulder millimeters from touching against my bare skin, the smell of something herbal, like tea, and sharp chemicals clouding my senses. It was such a contrasting experience.

Bruce turned to me, an expression between hunger and regret forcing me to shiver and look him straight in the eye. A hand landed on my waist, holding me in place with gentle firmness. "I'm a monster, I could hurt you," he whispered, leaning into me like a touch starved kitten. The man screamed contradiction. "We shouldn't."

Vivid images of the Hulk and the rampages years prior flashed through my mind; the rubble, the collateral damage in the form of many lives. I barely remembered it, having been too little to really understand what was going on. One thing, though, I knew for sure: ever since the world became aware of Lyra's existence, there had been no incidents. Sure, the Hulk still appeared when there was a threat, but there were no documented incidents of the green creature running amok, accidentally.

"You won't hurt me," I spoke with conviction. Perhaps, I was bluffing just slightly but I wouldn't lie like that to myself. The variable, the... Twelve or so percent chance of things going... Awry, it made a small, malicious worm inside of me rejoice and fill my limbs with familiar adrenalised yearning. "You're not a monster. Far from it, actually," I used the hand that was not supporting me against the desk to gently cradle the side of his face, letting my fingertips brush over the rough five o'clock shadow on his cheek.

Bruce emitted a sound somewhere between an agitated grown and a pleading whine, sagging with the sound exhale, pressing himself flush with my chest. His face slipped from my palm, the warm tip of his nose running a steady line up my neck, sending goosebumps running wildly down my back as his hot breath tickled the arch of my throat.

"Baby," the nickname punched a stuttered gasp out of me with the intensity contained in just that one word. "I've been hearing all these amazing things about you," his voice dropped, low baritone rumbling straight into my ear. "I won't be able to hold back. I'll want you all to myself," his bicep flexed under my hand.

My knees would have bucked if I wasn't grasping onto Bruce for dear life after those words. I had some sense of personal pride in me, so while my body was an easy, traitorous thing, my mind was more than eager to participate in this game, to ping pong a little bit before... "Yeah? What things?" I breathed.

Teeth briefly closed around my tender skin, nipping for just a second. "You're kind, beautiful," his hand took a steadfast hold on the back of my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. More skin to mark, more time to whisper. "Intelligent, bright and clever," the more he spoke, the fiercer he became. Bruce's grasp tightened until I was pliant in it, willingly following his silent commands. "A bit of a pain in the ass," a healthy dose of humour was added into the mix as my ass was roughly grabbed, our fronts pressed together at his insistence.

"That sounds about right," I didn't resist the sudden urge to snark, thoughts lazily floating in my head, like clouds on a bright sunny day, fleeting and sparse. None of them caught on. I was focused on feeling the need, on my need to feel.

A sharp smack landed on the plump of my ass, the sound resonating in the eerily quiet lab. The sounds of machinery had dulled at some point, leaving just the two of us panting our lust into each other's space. "I know you can be a good girl. Will you, princess?" His fingertips dug into my flesh, surpassing the soft sweatpants as if they weren't even there.

I could only nod, dumbly, overcome by the sudden rush of blood to my body. The life coarsing through me sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension.

"What's that?" Bruce removed himself from my neck, catching my unfocused eyes with a crooked smirk on his lips.

"Yes," I swallowed, breathing through my mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed, running both hands over my sides, over the frayed edges of my Mötorhead top. He admired it, briefly, setting his eyes on the band logo that was right over my breasts. Having decided something to himself, Bruce promptly removed it, lifting it over my head with ease and leaving it right on the science lab table.

Taking hold of my hand, he walked over to a hidden set of sliding doors that revealed a rather large, frequently used bed, shutting them just as I walked in, wearing only my bra and borrowed sweats. My back was pressed to the door in mere seconds, hot palms chasing away the chill of the lab as Bruce slotted his lips over mine.

He tasted like something I've never had before. His lips - so plush and supple, took hold of the kiss with practiced gusto, sucking me in without a chance or the desire to escape. I drank from him, sucked on the bottom lip as his tongue explored my mouth, danced with mine.

The room was spinning, the ringing in my ears growing in volume. I was only partly aware of the sensation of sliding down the wall; our knees thudded on the carpeted floor simultaneously, heavy breathing the only noise I could distinguish.

"Breathe, baby, that's it," Bruce coaxed, gently stroking my nape. The soft cotton of his shirt crumpled under my fingers where I held onto him, desperately searching something to ground myself with.

The buckle of his belt clattered and then clinked again as he wrapped the worn leather around my wrists, bringing them together in front of my chest. I exhaled sharply at the intimate gesture, a whine bubbling up from my chest when Bruce used a single fingertip to raise my chin.

My eyes met his; a brown iris tinged with the faintest of green around the outer edge. "This okay, princess?" He sought my face for confirmation, for agreement, for anything.

I nodded, stuttering mid-gesture, remembering our previous interaction. My mouth did not want to cooperate but I forced it to, even if it came out as little more than a pitiful mewl. "Yes, daddy," the word, sweet and sticky like fruit syrup, poured from my lips.

My eyes slid shut as my conscience - or was it common sense? - took hold of the situation. I was on my knees in front of my best friends dad, a virtual stranger, and I'd just-

Bruce's soft chuckle stopped the negative spiral of my thoughts. "That's my girl," he sounded a tad more breathless now, a hairliner in his perfect façade of self-control. As if he'd sensed my indecisiveness, he tugged on the makeshift restraints, pulling me closer, closer and into his lap.

A warm, solid chest with a healthy amount of fluff greeted me. Bruce let my lax, pliant body fall into his arms, catching me effortlessly and bringing my face to his lips. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you're my good girl," he peppered soft kisses all over my flaming cheeks, my twitching nose, my fluttering lashes.

"Please," I begged, shame giving way to the flood of arousal that seemingly hit me all at once. I was aware of the dampness collecting in my panties, the stiffness of my limbs from holding back the ravenous desire to paw at Bruce like a wild animal. "Please, daddy..."

"I know, I know, baby girl," he soothed, not stopping his tender assault on my face. "Daddy will make it all better. I know just what you need," Bruce finally pulled away. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and then the awkward shuffle of him shucking off his pants.

Somewhere in between of all that, he'd ended up sitting down on the bed, wearing only his boxers, his shirt hanging open. The red crawled down his chest, partially masked by the coarse salt and pepper hair; his lips were cherry red and his hair was sticking out in odd directions. Bruce looked sinful.

My eyes inadvertently landed on the impressive bulge in his boxers; in response to my widened eyes, he reached out for it, stroking the outline of his thick cock through his boxers. "Like what you see, baby?"

"Yeah," My mouth watered.

"Baby wants a fat cock?" He teased, sounding like he knew exactly what he was doing, testing my self-control like that. With a flick of his wrist, it sprang free, slapping against his tummy, coating the fine hairs with drops of clear, musky fluid.

I swallowed, feeling the taste of him from afar and yearning for more where I was parked between his spread legs.

In a gesture almost loving, he tugged on the belt still wrapped around my wrists, bringing my face to his leaking shaft and my hands to the base of it, letting me feel the weight of his balls in them. The cock throbbed, neglected, weighed down by the heaviness of his full balls.

"Go ahead, baby, suck my cock," the encouragement came with a gentle push to my head.

I obediently followed, wrapping my lips around the pink, moist crown of it, a hum beginning in the back of my throat. My God, Bruce tasted heavenly... I whirled and slipped my tongue a around his head, I dipped into the slit to drink the nectar right from the tap, idly coming to awareness of the broken, choked moans coming from the man above me.

Raising my head got me a view of his chin; head thrown back, the lax O of his mouth glistened in the meager light. My eyes slid lower, to the flex of his abs. Bruce fought hard to stay still. The desire consumed me, a sudden rush of power at having Dr. Bruce Banner's cock in my mouth and the man at my mercy; I inhaled, sliding my mouth further and further down his throbbing length.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter before his hands gripped the sides of my face. "Hungry, baby, are you?" His eyes glowed a faint green; I shuddered at the power he held within himself. Held back for me. "Tap my thigh twice," he spoke and I had no choice but to obey. "Okay. Do that if it gets too much, alright?" I nodded. He gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Good girl," he praised, experimentally bucking his hips into my mouth a few times.

In and out. I focused on my breathing, sharp, little inhales: his girth took up all the free space in my mouth, the tip of it barely fit into my throat. The burn, the stretch; I felt every tenth of an inch, every bulging attempt of my body to accommodate Bruce's huge cock. It was delicious, I couldn't help but crave the same stretch in my neglected, sopping wet pussy.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well," Bruce moaned wetly. "Your mouth... S'like heaven... Could fuck it all day, that's my good girl," the rambling increased in it's intensity as the pace of his hips hastened. Drool and tears flowed like a river; my chin was dropping with it, spit connected my face to his pelvis. "Oh," there was a brief pause to his movements; suddenly, he pulled out, fisting the base of his cock, staring me down with a ferocious gleem in his eye.

I must've looked a straight mess; my face like a crime scene, my clothes disheveled, covered in fluids and most of all - I was desperately grinding against my own feet, too focused on the glorious cock in front of me to notice the weakness of my own flesh. "Daddy?" I questioned, wincing at the grating of my own voice.

Without a word, the belt was tugged once more; in a set of movements just slightly north of acrobatic, I found myself laying on my back in the middle of the bed, my sweatpants suffering a haste demise in the corner of the room.

Bruce crawled atop me, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on every inch of my skin he could reach, mouthing something inaudible into every pore of my body. As he drew closer, I discerned bitten-off phrases, stringing my desire into sticky, tangy mess at the apex of my thighs.

"My perfect baby girl," the words reached me; all tongue, he kissed me once more, arching into me as much as I arched into his hot grasp. A brief inspection of my face - he was satisfied with what he saw - and Bruce crawled back, settling in between my spread legs, breathing hot air on the lips of my sex still covered by a sopping wet piece of fabric.

"Oh fuck," I yelped, feeling him smooch it soundly, the hot wetness of his tongue penetrating the meagre lace barrier with ease.

He moved it aside anyway, with a single finger, giving my pussy a broad lick, moaning into my cunt like a man gone mad. It took a few more licks for him to feel sated enough to surface, all the while holding my hips down. I was so sensitive, I felt even the tiniest flicks to my clit, I was sure if I didn't cum then and there, I would explode.

"Such a pretty pussy, princess," his heavy breathing paused briefly. He nipped my thigh. "So wet, is that all for me?"

"Yes, yes, daddy," I rasped, pushing my cunt into his face, losing all shame and trepidation.

"So tasty," he continued the torture, outlining my lower lips before taking another nosedive right into it, swirling his tongue around every fold, sucking onto my clit.

Bruce ate my pussy until my thighs shook, until my core quivered and I could no longer hold back the choked, ragged screams starting somewhere in the low of my belly and coming out as unholy, all-consuming yowls filled with unadulterated lust.

"Louder for me, baby," he inhaled rapidly, and then, he sucked on my clit.

The world stopped, halted on it's axis, every muscle going rigid in my body and every nerve ending simultaneously coming alive. Faintly, I heard a chant, repeating two syllables over and over, it sounded like my voice - but I had no control over myself. All I could do was weakly grind my hips against Bruce's mouth, faltering when the crashing waves of my orgasm began to recede.

The infuriating overstimulation stopped; blinking hazily, I saw Bruce's eyes glimmer brown and green in front of my face. His nose and his chin was glistening with a thin coat of sticky fluid; disheveled and red, he looked a man on the verge of a revelation.

Something hot and blunt nosed at my cunt, bringing back the moment to me - I realized, with a great deal of impatience - how empty I felt. The decision was minute. "Daddy, fuck me, please, I want your cock," the words came easily.

"That's my girl," his eyes fluttered shut as the first inches squeezed through the snug of my cunt. I was sopping wet and as relaxed as I'd be, but even then, it was a stretch. "Good girl, good baby," the mumbled praise made me whine and my pussy clamp on his cock. "Relax, let daddy fill you up." Breathing through it, I consciously unwound myself around him, letting my palms rest freely on his shoulders. "Let daddy take care of you."

Like melted sugar, his husked words stuck to me inside and out. Short, sharp thrusts; Bruce was patiently burrowing himself inside of me, making his way to reach the deepest parts of me I didn't even know existed. His cock head pressed against something hard and spongy inside of me; stars burst behind my eyes I'd clamped shut on reflex.

I moaned weakly, tugging on his arm, pressing myself closer. It felt so, so good. Like a raw nerve had been exposed and he was stroking it, pushing that little switch with every stroke of his hips.

"I'm not gonna last," he muttered as once again, my cunt squeezed him snugly in place, just as greedy as I was to feel that tiny explosion spark up within me again.

"I want..." I panted. Bruce set in a punishing pace after that, a palm under my ass, squeezing it so hard there would definitely be bruising. I craved it, I needed to see the evidence this was not some elaborate fever dream. "I want... Daddy to fill me up," words came out garbled; it sounded like gibberish to my ears but Bruce - they spurred him on.

"Oh yeah?" That breathless, boyish cockiness was back in his voice again; despite how fucked out he sounded, I prepared myself for something truly out of this world. I just knew.

He sat back on his shins, dragging me by the hips with him, making me shiver and moan and twitch and clamp onto him again as his throbbing cock hit that special spot again. And again. And again.

"Look at me, baby," a hand on my belly and his eyes burning right through me. As they slid down, towards the apex of my thighs where he was still moving within me almost lazily, I saw it.

"Oh fuck," I couldn't utter much more than a two-syllabled profanity. There was a bulge in my belly, just above my pelvis, moving in rhythm with Bruce's hips. And then he pressed on it and I-

Something, someone, somewhere was screaming. The noise was loud and pitched, but even then, I could barely hear it though the neverending waves of bliss that enveloped my whole being. Gold and silver at the edges of my rapidly darkening vision; I was drowning in something that smelled and felt like Bruce. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his heated body, the rapid snapping of his hips-

Oh.

"I'm gonna, fuck," the last word was but a ghost of a human speech. Growling low and filthy, Bruce leaned into my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Mine," his hips stuttered, his cock nestled deep, the sensation bordering on painful, forcefully extracted pleasure. It throbbed with every spurt of his seed; each one felt like a solid punch in the gut to my abused pussy.

"Daddy," I mewled, my body jerking away from him but my mind and my soul yearning for more. His rapidly softening flesh made the idea of being separated unbearable.

"S'good, s'my good girl, m'so proud," he mumbled, looking slightly disoriented as he removed himself from me, immediately pressing me to his side and interwining any free, flailing limbs.

We laid in silence, each of us slowly coming back to Earth after the completely unreal experience we just had. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do as the realization set in, the post-orgasmic haze giving way to a sudden rush of clarity.

"I can hear you overthinking," Bruce's voice was fond.

Before I could muster up the courage to snark back, the divided doors opened, one very concerned Tony Stark standing there, armed with a tranquilizer gun in one hand and a pack of cookies in the other. His mouth, previously open to (probably) yell at us, remained as open when his eyes had registered the scene in front of him.

I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Tony.

"The noise," he offered in the way of explanation, dangling the pack of cookies, looking, for once - speechless. He recovered quickly, however, even if the remark was a thin ghost of his usual sass: "You pick the nerd over me? I'm hurt," he scoffed in mock irritation, although I was pretty sure I saw some satisfaction in there, too.

Bruce looked at me. I looked at Bruce.

A mischievous grin slowly crept up his face, an identical one beginning to appear on my own face seconds after.

"Hey, two nerds is better than one, right?" My response is what did it; or, rather, it was the evidence of my previous throat-fucking clearly audible in my voice... Tony dropped the cookies and then, the tranq gun.

Bruce Banner taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @persephonehemingway @mostly-marvel-musings @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @sapphicnoodle69 @couldntbedamned @xoxabs88xox @marvelsbanner @tripleyeeet @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton

[ppersonna]

out of my league - knj | 01

you were out of my league. got my heartbeat racing. if i die, don't wake me, cause you are more than just a dream - out of my league, fitz and the tantrums

✹ summary- Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out about your years-long hopeless crush on him. And he most definitely was not supposed to find out about it in front of all your coworkers in a company-wide meeting.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

✹ word count- 6.6k

✹ genre- angst, smut, comedy

✹ chapter warnings- swearing, descriptions of sex, sexual content, namjoon being a sexy flirt, jungkook being a himbo, awkward conversations, jimin being a protective bff

✹ a/n- hello and welcome to this fic thats lived in my google docs for almost a year now. without @ladyartemesia @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @chimoona, i would never have posted it. i truly owe so much of my brainstorming and creativity to their incredible brains and thoughts and ideas. i love them very much! i hope you enjoy this first chapter! please feel free to message me, talk to me abt anything!! im always here to chat. ILY!

MASTERLIST

Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out this way.

You planned to confess your undying, unerring love for your coworker at a better time, a classier place. You would wear a dress that highlighted your features, hair cascading down your back, makeup done to perfection and spritzed with expensive perfume. You’d confess, he’d confess right back, and you’d live happily ever after.

You’d also dreamt that Kim Namjoon would have the slightest inkling of who you are before he finds out about your year long crush. He might know you as the mousy girl in the office who doesn’t talk and doesn’t contribute much other than some crunched numbers and apparently the best coffee brewer in the office. But you’d prefer he knows you well—your favorite colors and movies and foods, what makes you happy and sad; things future husbands should know.

You very much did not think it would happen in a company wide conference, full of over five hundred suit-wearing executives. You did not think it would be done by the office bully, Chungha, who carefully takes over the mic and speaks the words clearly as she presents awards of recognition.

“Congratulations to Kim Namjoon for 5 years with the company, over $4 million in revenue, and the object of ____’s lust and affection. I’m sure you two will have the happy life she’s written in her journal about. Make sure you celebrate with her today!”

The room is silent, so silent you could have heard a pin drop from a mile away. Your face is cherry red and you wish the earth would open up and swallow you whole. Your heart feels like someone has ripped it in half and you stare in horror at the girl smirking at the front. Is this what it feels like to be backstabbed? Namjoon looks perplexed—confusion written on his face as he gestures around to no one in particular like he’s saying ‘what the fuck was that?’

Awkward coughing and clapping begins and Namjoon stands to receive his award, a fine wooden fountain pen, and chances a glance around the room. He easily spots you, with your wide, frightened face. His look remains passive, not hinting what he’s thinking behind those stormy eyes, before he turns and sits back down at the table with his buddies from his department.

You seriously contemplate quitting your job. You could find a new one easily, right? Just stand up and tell your boss you quit and you’re out of there before Namjoon ever sees you again and you’ll never have to face the mean girl who’s ratting you out.

As much as the idea rolls through your head, you know you won’t do it. You love your job, love the security and finances it provides you, and you love to look at Kim Namjoon, all day every day.

You don’t understand where things went wrong.

( one month ago )

It’s 9:03 am. You finish brewing the coffee in the small staff kitchen and sigh at the aroma of the freshly ground beans. Coffee is your favorite meal, favorite time of day, favorite snack, and preferred beverage. You drink it constantly. You’re known as “coffee girl” at work, mostly because no one really bothers to get to know you beyond that. You drink coffee like it’s a devoted religion. You could drink a cup right before bed and still sleep like a baby. It was, put simply, your drink.

The office workers deem you to be the one to make the pots of coffee every morning, claiming you were the ‘best’. You didn’t mind—you preferred to make your own coffee regardless—but you believe your coworkers are trying to pass off the twenty-minute job to someone lower in the office hierarchy. And you were one step above the interns.

The coffee machine chimes to let you know it’s hot, and it’s ready for you. You eagerly pour a mug, a large one, and smile as the waft of freshly ground beans (by you, of course) fills your senses.

You nearly knock the cup out of your hand as Kim Namjoon strolls into the office, eyes set on the coffee.

You feel your throat swell up, like he’s an allergen and you’re caught without an epi-pen. Butterflies swirl in your stomach and you can’t stop staring at him. He pays you no mind, tired yet determined to pour a cup of coffee and get back to his office.

You stand in the small kitchen, clutching your coffee like a lifeline, and pray to god you don’t do something stupid.

Namjoon pours his mug, and you watch his muscular hands grip the coffee pot. He pours a hefty amount of cream and sugar into his cup—it appears even perfect male specimens have their faults. 

Your eyes dance on his face before they tango down his body. You wonder what he looks like in the morning, crawling out of bed with mussed hair and a sleepy smile painted on his face. He’d look at you and tell you you’re the most beautiful girl and kiss you deeply despite morning breath. Maybe he’d take you to the shower to press you against the tile as he fuc-

“Oh!” it startles Namjoon to see you, and the coffee in his hand swishes violently. “Didn’t see you there. Sorry!”

Your heart melts. He’s the picture of kindness and politeness. You recognize it’s been a few seconds and you still haven’t replied.

“It’s fine!”

“Great coffee, by the way,” he smiles. His teeth nearly knock you out cold with their brilliance. “Have a good day.”

He turns and exits the room without so much as a glance back at you. Your knees feel weak.

Kim Namjoon talked to you. He complimented you. He told you to have a good day. It’s the best and most significant conversation you’ve had with your secret crush.

You definitely file that away for another day when you need to reminisce on his compliment, and you scurry out of the kitchen towards your desk.

Park Jimin is waiting dutifully at your desk when you arrive, a smug smile still slapped over your features as you sip at your coffee. Namjoon spoke to you today—how lovely.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow. 

“What’s got you so perky this morning?” 

You’re normally quiet and passive, avoiding eye contact or any semblance of emotion on your face.

You look up at the blonde bespectacled boy. Park Jimin is the closest thing to a best friend in the company. He’s who you spend time with at lunch, see on weekends, and text often. You suppose he’s the closest thing to a best friend you have in your entire life.

You send him a smirk and lean in close to whisper. “Namjoon said hi to me today!”

Jimin sends you a pitiful look and pats your shoulder. Your best friend is well aware of your secret crush and while he thinks Namjoon is a nice guy, he thinks your crush is a little hopeless. He’s the most popular guy in the office, often has dates lined up every weekend. Jimin hears the way he and his friends talk in the break room. The man is definitely not hurting for female attention.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, unenthusiastically. “That’s great.” He can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness over how excited you’re getting from a simple ‘hello’ from a coworker.

“I know, right? Anyway, lunch today?” You ask as you settle down into your cubicle.

Jimin pushes his glasses up his face and nods. “Of course! That’s why I came by this morning. I wanted to let you know that Jungkook from marketing will join us.”

You make a face, disgust etched in the lines creasing your forehead. 

“Why?”

Jungkook is well known in the company. He’s a loudmouth, a player, a clown, and everyone’s favorite comedian. He’s just not your favorite.

“Don’t be rude,” Jimin admonishes at your grimace. “He asked to join and well—he’s cute. I can’t say no to him.”

“Oh Christ, Jimin,” you groan. “Not you too! Don’t tell me you have the hots for the serial fuckboy?”

He blushes lightly and shrugs. “Maybe I do! Be nice to him today or I’ll eat all your chocolate ice cream I know you have at home.”

You stick your tongue out, petulantly. “Fine, now let me get to work or else Seokjin will be up my ass.”

Jimin smiles and kisses your cheek before he scurries away, back to human resources.

It feels as if barely any time has passed. You’re working hard, running calculations and updating spreadsheets. You have an eye for numbers, and losing yourself in an equation is just another day for you. You’re shaken from your cheerful place by a vibration from your phone, and a text alert popping on the lit screen.

jimin 12:01 pm- it’s lunchtime!! you better get your butt out here!

You smile and text back an affirmative reply, then move to grab your lunch from the company fridge. Gliding down the steps leading to the fresh outdoors, you meet Jimin at the lunch tables in the grass.

Jimin is sitting with Jungkook. You can recognize your best friend by his hair and glasses, and Jungkook by his obnoxious laughter.

“Hi,” you murmur as you sit down and open up the brown bag lunch you’ve brought.

“Hi!” Jimin is excited to see you, and just a pinch over eager to be sitting next to Jungkook.

“You know Jungkook, right?” Jimin asks, a harsh look in his eyes that reminds you to be on your best behavior.

You nod as you pull out a bag of grapes. “Oh, yeah, hey,” you smile. “I’ve seen you around.”

Jungkook delivers you a signature smirk and you feel yourself roll your eyes internally. “Yeah, you’re Coffee Girl, right?”

You pout and glare down at your brown bag lunch. Will you ever become more than just Coffee Girl?

“Yeah, I suppose that’s me.”

Jimin clears his throat to dismiss any awkwardness. 

“So, Jungkook, I hear you like working out? ___ likes to work out too. She drags me to the gym sometimes. Maybe we could all meet up sometime?” You don’t miss the hopeful lilt in his voice. Jungkook does.

“Oh, yeah?” He narrows a sexy look at you, rather—a look he thinks is sexy that you find off-putting. “What do you do at the gym? Little cardio sets with 5 pound weights?”

What an asshole.

“Sometimes,” you state as you take a bite of the homemade salad you handcrafted last night. “Most of the time I’m lifting heavy. I can bench 275 and deadlift 300.”

Jungkook looks taken back. “What, really?” He sounds breathless. “You lift more than Namjoon-hyung.”

At the sound of the love of your life’s name, you pause. Your face heats quickly and Jungkook smirks. Of course, he recognizes this and not Jimin’s obvious flirting.

“Why are you blushing?” He asks. “Did I say something?”

You’re quick to dismiss things. “Um--no. I just um,” you’re grasping at straws. “I’m hot.”

Jimin is trying not to laugh, hiding his mouth behind a petite hand.

Jungkook tilts his head. “It’s not even sunny today.”

You gulp. “Yeah, I must be hot. With a fever. M-malaria… probably.”

Jungkook snorts. 

“You have malaria? Bummer.” He picks at his nails. “I thought for a moment you had a thing for Namjoon.”

“No!” The retort is quick, too quick for normal conversation, and it gives you away.

“Aha!” Jungkook points an accusing finger at you. “You have the hots for him, don’t you?”

Your features melt, and Jimin tries to assuage the situation. “Jungkook, please don’t tell anyone,” he pleads.

Jungkook smiles at you. “That’s so cute. It’s like a little nerdy freshman crushing on the senior class president.”

You bury your head in your hands, suddenly unable to stomach any food.

“Jungkook,” Jimin’s tone becomes more firm, authoritative. “I’m asking you this as a friend. Please, don’t say anything.”

Jungkook holds his hands up to prove his innocence and waves his proverbial white flag. 

“Secret is safe with me,” he promises. “But it’s cute. I know him really well, you know. I could try to hook you two up.”

You blanch, unsure if you want Jungkook saying anything about you to the man of your dreams. 

“I’m good, but thanks,” you offer meekly. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to head back to work, okay?”

Jimin frowns, knowing you’re feeling like a cornered animal, and nods. “Feel better, babe,” he sighs.

Jungkook watches as you leave and turns to Jimin. “Man, he’s way out of her league.”

Jimin slaps the boy in the chest. “Be nice, asshole, that’s my best friend.”

Jungkook promises to be nice, and Jimin is blissfully unaware that others are listening and that the man beside him is easy to persuade.

( present day )

The company-wide meeting adjourns soon after what is likely to be the most embarrassing moment you’ve ever lived through.

You’re grabbing at your things and trying to run out of the room, desperate to get out before anyone sees you or talks to you or laughs at you.

A hand grabs at the coattails of your suit jacket and you’re pulled backwards with a yelp. You turn to seek your captor and find the concerned face of your best friend, Jimin.

“Are you okay? What the fuck just happened?”

Jimin’s concern makes it all real. Until now you could pretend you were in a fugue state, totally dissociated from reality. Now, you realize that everyone in the entire company is aware of your crush on Kim Namjoon.

You can feel your bottom lip wobble, tears threatening to spill. Jimin murmurs an ‘oh shit’ and drags you out of the large room and into the nearest bathroom. He pushes you to sit against the sink and passes you toilet paper to dab at your eyes.

“I don’t know how she found out!” you cry. “God, I feel so stupid and embarrassed.”

It incenses Jimin. He’s holding it back to ensure you’re okay, but in reality, it’s an HR nightmare waiting to happen. He’ll find who did it and punish them accordingly.

They will suffer. 

“It’s okay, babe,” he pulls you into a hug. “Everyone will forget about it soon. They’ll think it’s just a lame office joke, okay?”

You nod, feeling the slightest bit comforted by his words. 

“How could she find out, Jiminie?” You ask with a sniffle. “You’re the only person who knows.”

Jimin sighs and shakes his head.

“I don’t know, but they’re dead. I haven’t told any-... oh, my god,” Jimin stops suddenly. You look up at him to catch what he’s thinking.

He growls and balls his fists. 

“Jungkook knew.”

You let out a sob and bawl your eyes out into the tissue you’re holding. Jimin holds you tighter while he conjures up a hundred different ways to hurt someone and make it look like an accident.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin sighs, trying to comfort both you and himself. “I’m HR. I have to handle this. I’ll make sure they get what they deserve.”

You feel a sting of pain for Jimin. He’s been hopelessly doting on the man who spilled the beans for a few months now, even got to take him on a few dates. It was still nothing serious, but Jimin was clearly smitten.

“I’m sorry you have to do that, Chim,” you whisper. “I know how you feel about him.”

“Yeah, well,” he swallows thickly. “You’re more important than any asshole.”

Jimin holds you tight for a few minutes longer, before you clean yourself up and steel yourself. Ignore everyone, Jimin encourages. Just get to work, he says. Then you can go home and we’ll drink wine and forget about it all, he promises.

You replay his words in his head like a prayer as you walk down the corridors and towards your office. Everyone in the hallways stops to stare at you. They lean towards their friends and whisper. You hear snippets of their gossip, like “Namjoon” and “out of her league”. It drives the sharp blade lodged in your chest even further. It threatens to collapse your lungs and break your ribs.

You make it to your desk safe and sound and bury yourself in work and forcibly ignore the gawking and the stares. 

Just make it home. Just get through the day. You’re almost there.

You could do this.

You nearly make it the entire day before running into the one person you didn’t want to see, Kim Namjoon.

At the end of the day, you’re taking the stairs down to the parking garage instead of the elevator. The elevator is too busy, too many people, and you’re trying to avoid the stares and giggles at your expense. The stairs are always deserted and you figure it’s your safest bet.

You can nearly hear the wine calling your name at home. A delicate glass of Sauvignon Blanc and some chocolate ice cream and a good cry—it sounds like the best and only way to unwind after the worst day you’ve ever had in your life.

The chanting of your name gets louder and you wonder if you’ve finally lost your mind—if you’re actually hearing your wine bottles all the way at home talking to you.

No, wait. The voice is real, and coming from behind you. You turn around to face who’s calling you and nearly faint at the sight.

Kim Namjoon stands on the landing above you, one strip of stairs between you.

“Hey!” He seems glad he’s caught you. “I’ve been calling your name for a minute.”

You swallow and search for an answer. 

“Sorry, I’m-.. I guess I’m just a little out of it today.”

Namjoon grimaces. 

“Yeah, about that…” he begins as he takes the steps down to be on equal ground as you. Your heart is spinning wildly. He’s so close to you. He’s talking to you. On any other day you’d be erupting towards the sky like a firework. But today isn’t any other day.

“I feel like I should apologize,” he states. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t plan it or anything.”

Damn him and his kindness. Damn him and his cute, awkward smile.

“No, no,” you assure. “I know you didn’t. You don’t have to apologize.”

It’s hard to make eye contact with the man. You want to, know it’s important in intense conversations like this, but the thought of him seeing you—really seeing you makes you ache inside.

“It was a really shitty prank,” he begins. “I’m sure you don’t even know who I am, let alone have a crush on me.”

For the millionth time that day, your face heats to a near boil. You stammer and you’re sure you’ve blown any chance at even thinking about a date with Namjoon.

“Oh, uh, right,” you seek an answer, beg your brain to pick something to say that doesn’t make you sound stupid. “I do.”

“You do what?” He’s confused and you widen your eyes at what just left your mouth.

“I do know you! I mean, I do have a crush on you! Oh, fuck,” you shove your face into your hands. “Please, ignore that. I need to go. Sorry!” You don’t give him a chance to reply, you book it out of the stairway as fast as your heels will take you.

Today was the worst day you’ve suffered through in your life.

The next few days aren’t much better.

Not only are you “coffee girl”, you’re now also sarcastically called “Namjoon’s girl”. As much as you hate your initial title, you’d prefer it to the new one they throw at you as you walk by.

Jimin rats out Jungkook and Chungha to the bosses. They get two weeks probation and they have to write you apology letters if they wish to keep their permanent files clean of any reprimands. It’s a slap on the wrist, and everyone involved knows it. Jimin is furious and wants the boss to reconsider. You tell him not to push it. You’d rather this be over and everyone to forget it even happened. Jimin unwillingly agrees.

You’re working at your desk, earphones shoved in your ears to diffuse the gossip in the room, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn and are greeted with the face of Judas Iscariot himself, Jeon Jungkook.

“Hi,” he sounds sheepish, cheeks reddening.

You narrow your eyes at him, sharper than steel. “What the fuck do you want?”

He winces, knowing he deserved that. “Well, I just wanted to apologize. I know they told me to write you a letter, but it seems too impersonal…”. 

You can’t believe Jungkook is sucking his ego up and actually coming to you to apologize. You thought he’d for sure be the one to cop out and send a shitty letter.

He continues. 

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry that all went down. I didn’t mean to tell her. She got me drunk and said she saw me eating lunch with you and Jimin. I think she was jealous or something and it slipped out. I know that’s not an excuse. I fucked up your trust and Jimin’s trust. But I just wanted you to know I didn’t do it to be an asshole. She sort of duped me.”

You pause as you take in the man’s apology. He didn’t have to come to you in person. He could have easily taken the shitty route and half-assed a letter to you. But he didn't, and he owned up to his mistake. God dammit.

“I appreciate your apology, Jungkook,” you sigh and you see his body visibly relax. “I’m still mad, but I guess the anger is at her for doing it in the first place. I’m sorry she tricked you.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and kneels down beside you. “I’m really happy you believe me. I was worried you were going to kick me in the nuts.

“I won’t lie, I thought about it.”

He smiles with you, and you feel like this is the restart of a friendship. “I definitely deserved it.”

You shrug and smile. “Jimin would kill me for hurting you. He might even kill me for thinking about hurting you.”

Jungkook’s smile drops at the name of your best friend. Yikes. Looks like there’s still trouble in paradise.

“I think you’d be in similar company with Jimin right now. He’s not speaking to me.”

You let out a breath through your nose. “Yeah, he’s a little protective of me.”

“For good reason,” he admits. “You’re like a cute little flower. A cute nerdy flower.”

“Jungkook,” you warn. “I just forgave you after I was humiliated in front of the entire company. I’d be careful with calling me nerdy right now.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

It’s hard to stay mad at the boy, no matter how much you dislike his reputation around the office. The fact that he humbled himself enough to seek you out and apologize is proof enough to you of his character.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. I forgive you,” you smile. “Thank you for apologizing.”

He rubs the back of his neck anxiously as his cheeks flare red.

“Yeah, it felt pretty shitty to just… do anything else. Plus, you seem really cool.”

“You seem great, too, Jungkook.”

He smiles and pulls you in for a hug, catching you off guard. For the fuckboy type, he’s surprisingly sensitive and soft. You like that about him.

“I’ll see you around, okay?” He says as he pulls away from you.

“Maybe you should apologize to Jimin, too?” 

His smile drops, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, maybe I’ll go find him now.”

“Good luck,” you offer with a pat on his shoulder.

With a sad smile, he turns and heads down the hallway towards the HR department. You pray Jimin shows mercy to the handsome boy.

A few weeks go by, and you’re sure that everyone has forgotten about you and your most embarrassing moment to date. You make the coffee, you calculate the numbers, everyone ignores you. Things return to relative normalcy.

Until it doesn't. The moment you think you're safe is the moment your guard comes down and everything falls apart around you.

It's when you're in the staff kitchen, grinding fresh beans to brew a second pot of coffee, that it happens.

The kitchen is fuller than usual. You normally try to wait until the lunchtime crowd dwindles and leaves to make your second pot, but you're so desperate for the caffeine that you can't find it in you to care.

You trudge into the kitchen with your handy coffee mug clutched in your tired hands and head towards the cupboards to grind up the beans.

There's a few groups of coworkers lingering in the room, and as your grinder whirs the beans around into a powder, you chance a look around to see who's among the crowd.

Your eyes flick immediately to where a hearty laugh erupts. It makes your heart still in your throat. Namjoon sits with his usual crowd of friends, hand gripping a homemade sandwich while the other assists him in telling his story to his friends. He pays you no mind—why would he?—and you can't help but stare at the way his dark brown hair lays perfectly against his forehead, and his eyes crinkle so cutely at the edges when he smiles.

You nearly forget about the coffee grounds—you're snapped out of your Namjoon-induced trance when suddenly a woman's laugh echoes around the room.

"Look at her," the voice states.

You peer up and see a girl you vaguely recognize. Is she from Marketing? Or perhaps Sales? You’re not sure, but she’s staring at you with a sneer.

“She’s so weirdly obsessed with Namjoon. It’s so creepy.”

Your face turns cherry red and you’re sure your lungs stop functioning. The air your body needs to breathe freezes and your chest aches. 

Namjoon turns to look at the girl before he looks and sees you grasping your coffee grounds tightly.

“Chungha was right—it’s so weird. Namjoon, you should talk to HR about this!”

Namjoon turns back to the gossiping coworker and frowns. “Can you leave it alone? She wasn’t even doing anything.”

The girl huffs and crosses her arms over her chest and looks back at Namjoon.

“How can you stand to be in the same room as her? She clearly thinks she has a chance with you.”

Her words come out like a bite. She punctuates her point with a harsh laugh and the group around her mumbles and chuckles in agreement.

You’re desperately grabbing at anything you can, wanting to leave as quickly as possible before you’re embarrassed further.

“Well, she does!” Namjoon replies loudly, annoyance written in his features. “I was actually going to ask her to dinner this weekend in private, but since everyone is so fucking interested in my love life, I have to do it publicly.”

The room falls silent, and your favorite mug falls out from your hands and shatters on the floor. All sets of eyes stare at you while yours widen with disbelief—you don't even care that you’re standing in a pool of old coffee and shattered ceramic. 

Namjoon stands and heads over to you, bending down to pick up the shards of your coffee mug. You take a few stunted breaths to kneel and help. 

His eyes peer into yours. They’re warm—a chocolate brown color that makes you feel safe.  

“What do you say?” He asks with a smile so gentle it nearly breaks your heart. “Will you let me take you out this weekend?” 

You’re gaping like a fish and the surrounding room is silent—bated breath waiting for your reply. 

“Yes, I would l-love that.” 

His smile turns even brighter, and he stands to throw the broken mug away. 

“I’ll email you the details, okay?”

Your head nods dumbly without thinking. His eyes sparkle as he smiles at you, and he extends his hand down to you to assist you off the floor. As your hand slips into his, you can’t help but feel how soft and strong he feels. You wonder what his hand would feel like caressing your face, smoothing down the expanse of your bare back, running down the length of your body.

The thoughts shake out of you as he winks and kisses your hand gently, causing the gossiping coworker to grunt her disapproval and for murmurs of shock to echo around the room.

“I’ll talk to you later, doll.” Namjoon winks at you before he grabs his sandwich and leaves the room, gesturing to his crew to follow along.

The place on your hand felt warm where his lips once lingered. You no longer cared about the angry glares from the rest of your coworkers. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, and you leave the kitchen nearly floating on cloud nine.

Email from: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 3:06 pm

Subject: Hey good lookin ;)

Hey! 

Just wanted to see how you are! I’m sorry about what happened at lunchtime. That was super petty and uncalled for. I really wanted to ask you out, and I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much by doing it in front of everyone.

I was wondering if you’d like to go out this Friday night after work? Say around 7? If you send me your address, I’ll pick you up.

Let me know!

Xoxo, Joon

You’re sure if you weren’t sitting in your tiny cubicle, you’d be screaming your lungs out.

The second the notification of the email came through, direct from the man of your desires himself, your body froze.

You re-read the message, over and over and over.  

The winky emoji, the xoxo, the nickname ‘joon’. It’s all so much and makes the grin on your face threaten to split your lips in half.

Your fingers press the “FWD” button and you quickly send the message to Jimin, before you stand demurely, attempting to give off an air of professional confidence. You need to talk to Jimin, now.

As soon as you’re out of the eyesight of suspicious coworkers, you bolt down the hallway towards Human Resources. Your high heels click loudly on the tiled floor, but the sound doesn’t even register in your mind. All you can think about is Namjoon, the email, the press of his lips on your hand, the way his smile made you feel as if you could fly.  

The door to HR swings open with your tight grip around the doorknob, and you open your mouth to call to Jimin, the lone employee, when you’re startled by the sight ahead of you.

Jimin sits on the edge of his expansive desk with his arms thrown around Jungkook’s neck and is clearly engaged in a deep, sensual kiss. At the sound of the door opening, they quickly break apart, with matching cherry red blushes on their cheeks and mused hair.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp. 

The men are silent and you can’t help but giggle after a moment passes. “I’ll take it you two made up?”

Jungkook flashes you a dopey grin, one that gives you an answer, while Jimin smirks haughtily.

“Jungkook and I were just discussing, umm… his 401k.”

Jungkook looks at the blonde boy for a moment, confused, before he gets it. “Yeah! Totally. Retirement. Love to t-talk about it?”

You laugh out loud and walk towards the couple.

“I’m sure it was a titillating discussion,” you tease. “I have good news though, if it’s okay to interrupt this retirement planning session.”

Jimin nods and Jungkook rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess I should leave?”

“It’s okay,” you smile. “I trust you.”

Jungkook smiles as if he’s just won the lottery. He looks between you and Jimin, face pure and excited like a puppy.

“What’s up?” Jimin asks as he moves to sit down at his desk.

“I forwarded you an email. Read it.”

Jimin nods and logs on to his posh computer, scrolling and clicking before narrowing his eyes and reading.

“Oh, my god.” Jimin’s face is shocked—it's written all over his features. “Namjoon asked you out?!”

Jungkook’s child-like grin turns into one of shock himself. He runs around to stand behind Jimin, eyes seeking over the words of the email.

“Well, hot damn,” Jungkook whistles. “He asked her out.”

Jimin exchanges a look with Jungkook, one that you’re not sure you can read. It quickly slips your mind, however, as you’re more focused on the task at hand.

“Can you come over tonight after work and help me pick out something to wear?” You ask excitedly.

Jimin smiles at you, a touch of sadness in his eyes, before he nods.

“Of course, babe,” he assures. “We’ll make sure you look nice and hot for the date with Mr. Kim.”

“Thank you!” You squeal as you wrap your arms around your best friend. He hugs you back before you scurry out of the office and back to your cubicle, itching to reply to the message.

Jimin sighs as the door to his office closes behind you.

“Kook, please don’t tell me he’s going to break her heart. He’s asking her out to make himself feel better about this, isn’t he?” 

Jungkook slips his hand into Jimin’s and squeezes. 

“I’ll find out, baby.”

Jimin smiles and nods appreciatively at the boy, before leaning up and kissing him.

Jungkook smiles against his lips, and is determined to ensure the young HR specialist never hates him again, even if he has to go behind his hyung’s back to ensure his new boyfriend’s happiness.

Jungkook has one mission now, and that’s ensuring Namjoon takes you on the greatest date known to man.

He grills Jimin with questions about what you like over dinner one night. Jimin finds it endearing that Jungkook is so eager to rectify his mistakes, but he still can’t help but worry that Namjoon is doing this to save face—not because he actually likes you.

“So, what does she like doing?” Jungkook asks as he spins his pasta around his chopsticks idly.

Jimin smiles as he takes a bite of the ramen Jungkook has thoughtfully prepared for their stay-at-home date.  

“I’ve told you already! She’s easy to figure out.” Jimin pats Jungkook’s hand gently. “She loves cooking and baking, working out, daydreaming about Namjoon.” 

“Cooking, hm,” Jungkook looks thoughtful as he takes a bite. “I think Namjoon can work with that. I’ll let him know!”

Jimin tries to hide the anxiety brewing in his stomach. He’s had to plaster on a fake smile for you while you tried on different outfits, wondering which will be the one to finally convince Namjoon he is the one for you. It’s hard to fake it around his boyfriend, too—but something tugs in his stomach that flares the cynical side of him.

Namjoon went from not knowing of your existence, to watching you get publicly embarrassed in a matter of minutes. While Namjoon isn’t a terrible guy, Jimin knows he doesn’t like anything to tarnish the gentleman reputation he’s built in the office. And as much as Jimin likes him, and surely likes his friend Jungkook, he can’t help but feel skeptical.

Jungkook hurriedly pulls out his phone and types away, letting his elder friend know of what he’s found out. Jimin swallows his food, and his pride, and hopes to god his growing cynicism is wrong.

Friday comes slower than you’d like. You wake up every day during the week, one day closer, and your eagerness hits peak levels. Namjoon sees you in the hallways during the week and winks at you, hands shoved in his tight slacks that make you salivate.  

He emails you again Thursday afternoon, confirming things and getting your address. You reply in nanoseconds, uncaring how overeager you come off. 

By the time your alarm clock rings on Friday morning, you’ve already been awake for 4 hours.

All you can do is daydream about the date, the way his hand fits into yours, the warmth of his eyes when he smiles at you.

It’s what fuels you through work.

You hope to god the numbers you’re attempting to work during the day come out right, because your mind is elsewhere for more than most of the day. There isn’t enough coffee in the world, but also your body feels as if you’ve overdosed on caffeine already.

The clock eeks towards 5:00 pm and you’re bolting out the door at 4:56 to head home and get ready for your date.

Jimin attempts to meet you before you leave, but your desk is cold and empty by the time he gets there.  

He sighs and heads back towards his office to gather his things, waving bye to various coworkers as they file out of the corporate building.

He turns the corner towards his office but stops in his tracks as he sees Namjoon’s back to him, phone pressed to his ear.

“Baby, I’ll come over later tonight, okay?” Namjoon speaks into the phone.

Jimin feels his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. He retreats and hides behind a wall, ear carefully peeled to listen to the tall man’s conversation.

“I’m going on this date with that chick from work,” he sighs. “It won’t last more than a few hours. Poor girl has a crush on me and you know the usual assholes won’t leave her alone.”

Jimin bites his lip and clenches his fist. Namjoon thinks he means well, but he knows his suspicions have been confirmed, and he’s torn inside. He wants to tell you, to warn you not to get too invested in the man, but he also has no interest in popping the bubble you’ve been in since the day he asked you out.

Jimin lets it simmer for now. He decides he’ll monitor Namjoon and cut things off if it appears the man strings you along for fun.

Namjoon finishes his phone call with a promise to see whoever is on the other end of the phone later that night, and Jimin quickly pulls out his phone and fakes a conversation with no one when he hears the man approach.

“Oh, Kookie,” Jimin giggles, leaning against the wall casually. “I can’t wait to see you tonight, either, babe.”

Namjoon walks towards Jimin and makes eye contact with the HR specialist.

“Bye, Kook! See you tonight, baby.” Jimin finishes up the fake phone call as Namjoon arrives next to him, and he plasters on his best fake smile.

“Congrats on you and Jungkook,” he speaks sincerely.

Jimin hates how nice he is, hates that he’s a nice guy who gets too wrapped up in his own good looks and reputation.

“Thanks, Namjoon,” Jimin smiles uneasily. “You too! Have fun on your date tonight.”

Namjoon’s face lights up and Jimin desperately wishes he could go back in time to 30 seconds ago, before he heard the conversation, and believe that Namjoon truly wanted to date you.

“Thanks, should be fun, huh?” He winks and nudges Jimin, before he waves a goodbye and continues out the door.

Jimin pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials the number of his boyfriend.

“Hey, baby. We’ve got a problem.”

tag list! - @jimidol @aretha170 @dearbambideer​ 

[duckmumbo]

i did mean the character ask lol, but that's my bad i totally forgot to clarify. also the tango you drew is so cute i love him so much the color pallet is great and the drawing in whole just slaps. anyways if you don't mind could you do tango for the character ask too? i love love love reading your thoughts on characters and tango's one of my favorite! -tango anon i guess

jfksbfj fair enough I just got the idea for that in my head and really wanted to do it lol. One Tango of the clan Tek coming right up!

First impression - was during s7 so I was hugely impressed by his redstone and like fully in love with his base concept. Always wanted to watch his pov but I never got around to it rip. Don’t even get me started on decked out my god how did he even do that. His voice is so nice.

Impression now - he’s absolutely insane oh my god I love him /p. That post that’s like tango does nice redstone that doesn’t make sense so true. I want to study him I want to lock him in one of those big butterfly exhibits in museums I want to spray him with windex. He is tied with Pearl for Most Noise but in the opposite direction if that makes sense. I keep meaning to watch his pov but haven’t gotten the chance to but after this I think I really need to bump him up

Favorite moment - literally any time he makes a cartoon noise. Why is this man pulled straight out of a late 00s cartoon that aired on Boomerang. This should maybe have gone under impression but it’s ok

Idea for a story - I just had the stupidest idea ever ok bear with me. Phineas and ferb au, evil Xisuma is dr. Doofenshmirtz, zedaph is perry (bc worm man), tango and impulse are phineas and ferb respectively. Oh my god helsknight is Vanessa, welsknight is Candace. Xisuma is Lawrence. Joe and Cleo are Baljeet and buford. Idk who would be Isabella but it would be platonic ofc. You know what let’s just say all the relationships in this au are platonic actually no hermitshipping for me tyvm <3. I don’t have enough brainpower to cast the rest of them someone help. WAIT MAJOR MONOGRAM IS DOC!!! Ren is Carl the intern. Ok I might be done now.

Random opinion - I think he needs more appreciation for his s7 “mini” games tbh. Decked Out???? Among Us?????? I want all of the mcyt community to know what this absolutely insane (/pos) man did and I really hope he gets more recognition this season when he finishes Decked Out 2

Favorite relationship - team ZIT my beloved <3

Favorite headcanon - blaze hybrid tango!!!!!!!!! Makes brain go brrrrrr so much oh my god it’s so good I am rotating Him in my mind

[elianamarie-blog]

The Things You Give Pt 14

Steven Hyde x Read

Happy Holidays and New Years everyone! I can’t believe we’re already 14 parts in. I’m so glad you guys are loving the story! Tag list is open if you want to be a part of it :)

Beep, beep, beep.

           The sound of the heart monitor was the only noise resourcing from the room. Hyde sat beside y/n, watching as her chest gently rose and fell, and listened to Red interrogate Eric from the hallway.

           “What do you mean you don’t know what happened?!” Red asked him in his usual gruff tone.

           “I don’t, Dad!” Eric defended. “All I saw is that she was sick and she was trying to get Fez and Hyde to stop fighting and she just dropped!”

           “And you didn’t catch her?” Red fumed. “She could’ve gotten hurt!”

           “Well, I didn’t expect her to fall!” he responded.

           “Red, honey, your yelling isn’t making anything easier,” Kitty said quietly.

           “For me it is!”

           “Red,” she said more sternly.

           “Well, have they figured out what’s wrong with her?” the worried father asked impatiently.

           “No, they haven’t,” Kitty answered calmly.

           “What’s taking them so long?” he grumbled. “We’ve been here for hours!”

           Kitty blinked at her husband. “We’ve been here for twenty-five minutes.”

           “And our daughter has been unconscious for forty! My little girl is in there now and I want answers, dammit!”

           “Red, she’s fine,” Kitty said, trying to soothe him. “She’s tucked in a bed right now with monitoring and her breathing is normal. They drew her blood and we’re just waiting on the test results.”

           “They need to come faster!” he shouted, causing Kitty to frantically look around and smile nervously as her coworkers stared at them.

           “Hey, Mom, if Dad has another heart attack, at least it’ll save us another ambulance bill since we’re already at a hospital,” Eric said grinning, sarcasm bleeding into his tone.

           “Can it, dumbass!” Red snarled.

           Inside the room, y/n groaned, hearing the arguing from outside and slowly opened her eyes, seeing nothing but white. Her head felt someone was taking a jack hammer to her skull. Steven noticed and waited anxiously by her side.

           “Why do they have to be so loud?” she mumbled.

           Steven sighed in relief and grabbed her hand. “Are you okay? How’re you feeling?”

           “I think so,” she croaked. “I feel like crap and I’m tired.”

           Hyde chuckled softly and leaned over, kissing her head softly. “You scared the crap out of me.”

           “What happened? Am I in the hospital?” she asked, not letting go of his hand.

           Hyde paused, searching her face. “You don’t—? You fainted and hit the ground pretty hard. They think you may have gotten a concussion.”

           “Well, that explains my headache,” she grumbled and rubbed her head. She looked at Steven who was still looking at her with worried eyes. “Where is everyone?”

           “Your parents are out in the hall with your brother, Fez is here but went to find ice cream.” He rolled his eyes at the thought but continued. “And everyone else is on their way.”

           “How long have I been out?”

           “About forty-five minutes. I’m glad you’re okay,” he answered and pulled her hand up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss.

           If it wasn’t for her head screaming at her, her heart would be fluttering away like butterflies, but all she wanted to do was numb the pain. A sharp pain surged through her skull, causing her to hiss.

           “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” he asked her.

           She tried to nod, but that caused more pain to her skull. “My head hurts. A lot.”

           “That’s what happens when you smack your head on concrete,” he answered. “You have a pretty good-sized knot on your head.”

            Y/n reached up and felt her scalp until she felt a painful bump behind the side of her head. She winced at her own touched. “Ow.”

           “Maybe you shouldn’t do that,” Hyde chuckled. “I’m going to go get something to drink. Do you want anything?”

           Her stomach churned at the thought of liquids and scrunched up her nose. “No, but I probably should. I’ll take a ginger ale if they have any.”

           “You got it, doll,” he said and walked out just as the doctor was stepping in.

           “Good afternoon, Miss Forman,” the middle-aged, dark haired man said. “I’m Dr. Kipp. I’ve been looking over you while you were out. How are you feeling?”

           “Not gonna lie, Doc, I feel pretty lousy,” Y/n responded. “I’ve been sick for the last couple of days. Not being able to keep anything down, I’m achy all over…I’m starting to wonder if I have the stomach flu or something. On top of that, my head is killing me.”

           “Well, you passed out due to your blood pressure dropping which caused a lack of blood to the brain, but it’s definitely not the stomach flu,” Dr. Kipp answered casually, setting down his clipboard as he went over to the sink to wash his hands.

           “How do you know that?” Y/n questioned him.

           “Well, it can’t be because you’re pregnant.”

                                                  --Time Skip—

           “How’s y/n doing?” Donna asked as she got to the waiting room, flowers in hand.

           “Oh, that’s so sweet that you got her flowers!” Kitty gushed, making Donna smile. “And she’s awake. The doctor is in there right now with her.”

           “Oh, good,” she said and sat down next to Fez who was quietly eating ice cream. “Where did you get the ice cream?”

           “Oh, I told them that y/n was my wife and they let me get ice cream!” he replied stoically.

           “So, you’re telling me that you hit on her and now you’re telling people she’s your wife?” Hyde seethed, holding a cup of coffee in one and a ginger ale can in the other.

           “Can you kids not fight for five damn minutes please?” Red asked impatiently. “It’s bad enough that we’re here, I don’t want to have to hear about your petty drama.”

           “Hey, don’t get mad at me. You’re the reason she’s here in the first place,” said Fez.

           “Why would it be your fault?” Kitty asked Hyde.

           “It’s not!” Hyde replied. “He’s just saying crap so I can knock his teeth in.”

           Kitty and Red squinted their eyes at the teens for a moment. “What on earth is going on here?” Kitty asked, growing frustrated.

           “Nothing,” Hyde answered through gritted, glaring daggers at Fez.

           Fez returned the glare. “You know, Hyde, I often wonder what it would be like to hook up with my best friend’s sister. Don’t you?”

            Hyde’s expression hardened. “It’s a good thing we’re in a hospital because when I break your bones, you’re already here!” Hyde aggressively moved towards Fez, but was stopped short by Eric getting in between them.

           “Okay! That’s enough,” he sang-song. “Hyde, why don’t you sit over there quietly and don’t beat up Fez.” He turned to Fez. “And Fez? Shut the hell up.”

           Hyde jerked himself away. “I’m going to go give this to y/n.”

           Back in the room, y/n felt like the wind had been knocked out of her lungs. “I’m…what?”

           “Pregnant,” he responded in a faux enthusiastic voice. “That was through the blood test. We’re going to have you take urine test as well. So,” he pulled out a plastic cup. “You’re going to pee in this cup and when you’re finished, pull the string and a nurse will come in and collect it. Then, we’ll do a full examination on you to make sure your head is okay.”

           Y/n nodded numbly and mindlessly grabbed the cup in her hand. “Okay…”

           “Probably not the news you were expecting, huh?” he asked.

           Y/n chuckled weakly. “No. Not at all.”

           “Well, I’ll be back soon with your test results.”

           He walked out the door, leaving y/n alone in the room. Her hands felt numb and she felt like there was static all around her. How could she be pregnant? How did she let this happen? And oh God, what was she going to say to Steven? Her eyes widened. Her parents?!

           A sudden heavy weight was shattered onto her chest and her eyes began to water. How was she going to tell everyone? What if her dream came true and she truly was alone? Could she raise a baby on her own? Where would she live? What job would she have to do to support her baby? Was she even going to be a good mom? Will her children grow up to be decent people? What if they’re born with health conditions? Or they fall ill? Can she even count on herself to get out of bed at 2 AM to go to the 24 hour store to buy cough medicine when they get sick? How do you even change a poopy diaper? How is she going to react when they’re teenagers and they’re learning how to drive or get their first boyfriend or girlfriend? What kind of mom was she going to be? What kind father was Steven going to be? Will he even stick around?

           With all these questions swimming through her head, she didn’t notice Steven walk back in. “I got that ginger ale you—hey, you okay?”

           Y/n snapped her head up as she was yanked out of her thoughts, which she silently thanked heaven above for. “Y-yeah, I’m fine.”

           “You sure?” he asked as he set down the drink on the table next to her. “You don’t look fine. In fact, you look kinda pale.”

           “Yeah, um,” she stuttered, swallowing hard and waved her hand casually. “The doctor says I passed out due to lack of blood to the brain. Blood tests came back normal, but he wants me to take a urine test just to be sure.” Not a total lie. Just left out a part.

           “Oh, okay. Do you need help getting to the bathroom?”

           “I think I got it,” she answered truthfully and slowly got out of bed, barley able to feel her legs. She ambled her way to the bathroom, dragging the IV along with her. She felt Steven’s stare burning a hole in the back of her head, but she couldn’t think of what he was thinking right now. She couldn’t. It would drive her to an anxiety attack.

           She closed the door quietly and baby stepped her way to the toilet. She passed by the mirror and did a double take to her reflection. Her ponytail was a complete rats nest, her eyes had dark circles under them, and her normally rosy cheeks had lost all color. She looked half dead and she wanted to cringe away. She turned her head to the side and saw the swelled up bump on her skull. She winced when she saw it and let out a sigh. She really wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep for 72 hours.

           She made her way to the toilet and shakily did her business in the cup. When she was finished, she left in on the counter in the bathroom and pulled the string. After she was finished washing up, she walked out to meet Steven sitting in the chair.

           “Hey,” he said gently whispered.

           “Hey,” she answered in the same manner. “Where is everyone?”

           “In the waiting room. Do you want to see them?”

           Her heart dropped, but she needed to play it cool. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

           He nodded and opened the door to call them in. She got back in bed with Hyde’s help, making sure her IV wouldn’t get pulled out of her arm.

           “Oh, y/n,” Kitty sobbed and rushed over to y/n who was sitting up fully and wrapped her arms around her. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

           Y/n barley reciprocated the hug. “I’m okay, Mom.”

           “When we saw you being loaded up into the ambulance, I thought I was going to die right there,” Kitty responded, stepping away from her daughter.

           “I’m fine, Mom. Really.”

           “What did the doctor say?” she pried.

           “Uh…they don’t know yet,” Y/n replied. “They’re taking a urine sample.”

           “Well, a person fainting is never a good thing,” Kitty stated matter-of-factly. “It means your blood pressure dropped and you weren’t getting enough blood flow to the brain. Those things just don’t happen.”

           “I know. They’re running tests right now,” Y/n said and leaned back against the pillows.

           “When will we find out?” Red pushed.

           “I don’t know,” Y/n responded growing annoyed. “I don’t know anything.” Lie, lie, LIE.

           “Well, we better find out soon,” Red said. “This place gives me the creeps.”

           “If you wanna leave, you can. I’m a big girl, I can leave on my own,” Y/n responded.

           “No, no, I wanna be here in this room when the doctor comes and tells us what’s wrong,” Kitty said stubbornly.

          Y/n’s heart and stomach dropped. There was no way anyone was going to be in this room when the doctor came back with the results. Positive or not, she didn’t need her parents asking questions and then finding out about her and Steven.

           She kept her face and voice as calm as possible. “No, no it’s okay. Really. I don’t know if I want everyone in here anyway. In fact, it’s probably best that I’m alone.”

           “Oh, nonsense. I—”

           “Kitty, if she wants to be alone, then we’ll leave her alone. She’s an adult now. She doesn’t need us in here,” Red said, signaling to his wife that they leave. “Besides, the Packers’s game is on and I wanna go home.”

           Kitty sighed, annoyed. “Fine. Fine, I’ll leave, but I want to hear everything, missy.”

           Y/n’s eyes widened a fraction and her heart beat violently against her blood cage. She could practically feel her blood pumping through her veins. She nodded numbly. “Okay.”

           Kitty nodded and kissed y/n on the head before leaving. She felt some tension leave her body as she watched her parents leave. She leaned her head back against the pillow and closed her eyes, feeling completely drained.

           “Are you okay?” Donna asked.

           “Yeah,” she mumbled. “Just…feeling depleted.”

           “Well, you can’t go to sleep yet,” Hyde said. “You might have a concussion.”

           “I want sleep,” she whined.

           “I know, but I’d rather you be exhausted than not wake up at all,” he responded.

           She glared at him through half open eye lids and grumbled, “I hate you.”

           He chuckled lightly. “I know.”

           The door to the room opened revealing Kelso, Fez and Jackie.

           “Hey, y/n, how are you feeling?” Kelso asked.

           “Bout as great as I look,” she replied, a weak smile playing her lips.

           “So, super sexy,” Fez responded cheekily but that smile quickly faded when Hyde punched his shoulder. “Ow.”

           “Remember: Respect,” was all Hyde said before sitting back down.

           “I heard what happened,” Kelso responded. “And Brooke made me bring you these.” He handed her a small bouquet of yellow daisies and lilies.

           Y/n chuckled, accepting the flowers. “Tell Brooke I said thank you for the nice gesture. And tell her to bring the baby around soon. I want to meet my niece.”

           Kelso’s face brightened. “You…you really think of her that way?”

           Y/n nodded. “Why wouldn’t I? We’ve all been best friends since we were little and it only makes sense that we look at each other more than just friends now.”

           “Like lovers?” Fez asked her seductively.

           “Do you have a death wish?” Hyde spat.

           “Okay, Steven that’s enough,” Y/n said as sternly as she could. “And Fez, shut up.”

           Fez pouted and went and sat in the corner of the room.

           “You know what? My mind is made up,” Kelso said. Y/n stared at him curiously, everyone joining in.

           “Kelso, in order for your mind to be made up, you have to have a brain,” Eric commented.

           Kelso shot Eric a glare before turning his head back towards y/n and Hyde. “I’ve been spending a lot of time with Betsy lately and Brooke is really starting to trust me.”

           “Okay, and that makes up your mind for?” Y/n asked him.

           “Hang on, just let me finish,” he said smiling. “Brooke is starting to trust me so much she’s even allowing me to pick the godparents.”

           “Oh, that’s great!” Y/n gleefully responded. “I’m so happy for you.”

           “And there’s only one rule. It can’t be Fez,” Kelso added on.

           Fez nodded. “That is a good rule.”

           “Godparents?” Donna mumbled to Eric. “Like we need any more responsibilities.”

           “I know,” Eric whispered back, rolling his eyes. “Such a burden.”

           “I’ve been thinking about it a lot and it’s a big deal. So,” Kelso said, stepping closer to the bed where Eric and Donna sat. “Eric, Donna.”

           “Uh, oh,” Eric sang-song.

           “Please scooch over so I can ask Hyde and y/n if they’ll be Betsy’s godparents?”

           Y/n looked at Hyde with excited eyes. “Really?!”

           “What the hell?!” Eric exclaimed.

           “Hyde and y/n?” Donna asked insulted.

           “You picked Hyde and y/n?” Jackie asked, equally insulted. “Why didn’t you ask someone else? Like me?”

           “Because you’re single,” Kelso deadpanned.

           Jackie crossed her arms. “And?”

           “And you need to be in a relationship to be a godparent,” Kelso responded slowly like he was scared to continue speaking. “That’s why they call it godparents. You can’t be single and be a godparent. That’s just stupid.” He laughed and rolled his eyes.

           Jackie stared at him in disbelief, trying to make sense of what he said. “That barley makes any sense, you moron.”

           “Hey, hey, hey, he chose us. Let him speak,” Y/n said not trying to contain her glee. “Not that I’m questioning your choice because, you know, you chose us, but why us?”

           “Because I really trust you and I think you’d be fantastic with Betsy,” he responded sweetly.

           “And you don’t think we won’t?” Eric asked.

           “Yeah, you don’t trust us?” Donna chimed in.

           “Well, to be fair, I’ve seen you drop almost everything you’ve held in your hands,” Kelso responded. “And you’ve never really taken care of a baby.”

           “Yes we have!” Donna defended. “Remember that time last year when Laurie had to babysit that one baby and I ended up changing her diaper when she couldn’t? I was a freakin’ natural!”

           “Yeah, I mean, if you gave me the honor of being godmother, I would be popular, head cheerleader, and voted best legs. This would give me another title,” Jackie argued.

           “Would you guys relax?” Hyde asked everyone. “It’s not that big of deal.”

           “Yeah, it’s not like he’s shunning you guys,” Y/n responded.

           “You’re all still going to be aunts and uncles,” Kelso defended.

           “Yeah, that’s easy for you to say,” Jackie grumbled and joined Fez in the back.

           “We can be good godparents,” Eric argued. “You can trust us.”

           “Eric, remember Goldie, the goldfish?” Y/n asked.

           “Yeah,” he responded.

           “Remember how you killed Goldie by taking him out of the fish bowl?”

           “I needed to hug something,” Eric answered coldly. “Besides, I’m not going to have to flush a baby down the toilet!”

           “Either way, man, thanks. I’m honored,” Hyde said and clapped his hand with Kelso’s and pulled him in for a bro hug.

           “If I have another kid, I’ll make you two godparents. I promise,” Kelso said.

           Eric huffed. “Yeah, yeah.”

           “Alright, I have to take a leak,” Hyde announced.

           “And I’m going to go find some more ice cream,” Fez said.

          “Can you guys make sure y/n doesn’t fall asleep?” Hyde continued.

           “You got it pal!” Kelso responded and watched as Hyde and Fez walked out.

           “I’m not a child,” Y/n responded once they were out of ear shot. “I am perfectly capable of looking after myself, thank you.”

           “Kelso!” Fez called out and barged back into the room. “Kelso, come quick! There’s a hot nurse fight happening downstairs! Hurry before it ends!”

           “See ya,” Kelso said and scrambled out the room, leaving Jackie, Eric, and Donna alone.

           “Yeah, I’m leaving too,” Jackie said pouting. “I don’t want to sit here and be reminded that I wasn’t picked for godparent. I may have to do some shopping therapy to get over it. Bye!” She squealed and walked out, leaving just the twins and Donna.

           “Do you need anything sis?” Eric asked. “Some water? Fluff up your pillows? Relinquish your title of godparent over to me?”

           Y/n gave her twin a look before scoffing. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

           “Fine. I’ll just go see if they have any teddy bears in the gift shop that reads ‘Not Quite the Best Godparents’ and maybe it’ll be tear absorbent!” With that, he stormed out the room, leaving Elena in stunned silence.

           Donna rolled her eyes. “I better go after him. Last time I left him alone while he was upset, he thought I didn’t care about him anymore and didn’t speak to me for three days.”

           She left, leaving y/n alone in the room. Again. She leaned back once more, enjoying the silence, but now that she was alone again, she realized just how loud the silence was. All she could think was pregnant, pregnant, pregnant.    

           “What am I going to do?” she mumbled to herself.

           The door to the room opened again; Dr. Kipp entering once more.

           “Hi Miss. Forman,” Dr. Kipp greeted. “We got your test results back.”

           She gulped. “And?”

           He sat down on the stool next to her bed and looked her in the eyes. “It’s positive.”

           Her heart dropped completely, and it felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. “I’m pregnant?”

           “I know this is a lot to take in, but we need to gather some more information from you so we can determine how far along you are. But first the basics. What’s your full name?”

           “Y/f/n y/m/n Forman.”

           He scratched her answer down on his clipboard. “Birthday?”

           “May 18, 1959.”

           “So, that makes you eighteen years old, correct?”

           Y/n nodded.

           “Okay, and your current address?”

           “416 Edlebrook Ave.”

           “Beautiful,” the doctor responded and looked up from his clipboard. “Do you know who the father is?”

           Tears started to burn her eyes as she nodded her head. “I do.”

           “What’s his name?”

           “Steven James Hyde.”

           “When was your last menstrual cycle?”

           “Somewhere in mid September.”

           “And today is October 19,” he said more to himself. “So, you are about three weeks along. Now, I’m going to give this information to the nurse and have her give you a pamphlet and a referral to an OB/GYN. I’ll have them give you a call to set up an appointment. Do we have permission to leave a message with someone if you’re not available?”

           “Uh…no, just me is fine, thanks. I’m not ready to tell people yet.”

           He nods. “Understandable. Now, let’s look at your head and see how you’re doing.” As he took out a flashlight and started examining her eyes, Hyde walked back in the room.

           “Hey, Doc. How’s she doing?” he asked.

           “Well, I’m not seeing any signs of concussion, so that’s good.” He turned off the light and started feeling around underneath her jaw to the back of her head where he felt her bump. She winced and he took note of it. “She seems great besides that nasty bump. Just put some ice on it if it starts to hurt and take some aspirin for the pain. Otherwise, you’re good to go.”

           “What about her test results?”

           Dr. Kipp glanced at y/n and saw her terrified look. He glanced back at Steven who looked worried. “Test results came back normal and she’s perfectly healthy.” He noticed Steven visibly relax. “Anything else, she may discuss with you at her discretion.”

           Y/n mouthed a thank you to the doctor who gave her a subtle nod and finished writing his notes on his clipboard. “I’ll have a nurse discharge you. You have a good rest of your night and rest up.”

           Y/n nodded. “Thank you.”

           With that, he left the room, leaving y/n wanting to vomit—and not from feeling sick this time. She continued to sit in her bed, not being able to properly process the information. Her world felt fuzzy and she felt like she was going to pass out for a second time. She could hear Steven talking to her, but it was all garbled and muffled as if she were underwater. Was her dream right? Was she going to be disowned by her family? Is she going to disappoint her mother? Oh no, how is Red going to take this? She and Steven are dead. Dead like road kill.

           She heard Steven’s muffled voice again, but this time louder. She blinked and looked up at Steven. “I’m sorry, what?”

           He knitted his eyebrows at her. “I said, are you okay? Do you need help getting dressed?”

           She shook her heavy head and slowly slid out of bed. “I should be okay.” She untied her hospital gown, allowing it to pool around her feet. She shivered as the cold air hit her bare skin and turned to see her clothes balled up in a plastic bag. She slowly started dressing herself and felt Hyde’s eyes burn into her the whole time.

           She finally looked up at him as she finished putting on her pajama top. “What’s up?”

           “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting different.”

           She nodded, not being able to look him in the eye. “Yeah, I think so. Just still not feeling well and feeling a little disoriented from the fall. But I think I’m good.”

           He eyed her for a minute. “Okay,” he responded slowly. “As long as you don’t pass out on me again.”

           She chuckled. “I think I’ll be okay.”

           A knock came at the door and the nurse walked in. “Okay, Miss Forman. Here are your doctor’s notes to help you feel better. Plenty of rest and fluids. And—” She noticed Steven listening to her and she looked back down at the pamphlet in her hands and slid the doctor’s notes over it. “Here’s everything you else need to know. If you have any questions, there’s a number you can call and if you don’t get better or start to feel worse, come on back in.”

           Y/n thanked her and quietly gathered the rest of her stuff and headed out with Steven. He guided her slowly into the camino and started up the car. She rested her elbow on the windowsill of the door and leaned her head into her hand, feeling like sleep will overtake her any minute now. Hyde placed a gentle hand on her thigh and lovingly rubber circles with his thumb.

           “Let’s get you back in bed, yeah?”

           She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, not being able to form words in fear she would start crying.

           The drive home was deathly quiet as rain started to fall. The only noise emitting was outside as the rain fell onto the windshield. Not being able to handle the silence, Hyde reached over and turned on the radio, allowing the music to softly fill the car. It eased the tension slightly, allowing y/n to relax.

           He pulled up in front of a supermarket and put the car in park.

           “What are we doing here?” she croaked.

           “Do you want some soup?”

           She gave him a small smile. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

           He nodded and got out of the car, leaving it on so the heater would warm up y/n. Ever since the hospital, she’d been cold and not able to heat up as fast as she normally would. She shivered, realizing she didn’t bring a jacket or her robe. She looked around the car and noticed a blanket behind the driver’s seat. She wrapped her cold fingers around the soft material and realized it was their sex blanket. She crunched up her nose a little, noticing some stains. “Ugh, gross,” she murmured before placing the clean side on her. The stench of sex filled her nostrils, but luckily it didn’t upset her stomach more than it already was.

           She waited in the car for a few more minutes with the blanket pulled up to her chin and listened to the music. Paul Anka came on, singing (You’re) Having My Baby.

           “Would you look at that,” she grumbled and changed the station. Stevie Wonder’s Isn’t She Lovely was on playing. “What the…” she grumbled and changed it to another station. A country song this time was playing. One that y/n didn’t know, but it was better than the others, so she left it on. She listened to the lyrics as they went:

           The girls in New York City, they all march for women's lib And better homes and garden shows, the modern way to live And the pill may change the world tomorrow, but meanwhile, today Here in Topeka, the flies are a buzzin' The dog is a barkin' and the floor needs a scrubbin' One needs a spankin' and one needs a huggin' Lord, one's on the way

Oh gee, I hope it ain't twins, again.

             “Are you kidding me?” She reached over and turned off the radio, choosing to sit in silence.

           Just then the driver’s door opened and Steven clambered inside with a container of chicken soup in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the other. “Here you go, doll.”

           “Awe, thank you, baby.” She grabbed the container from his hands and allowed the warmth to thaw her icy ones.

           “You turned off the music?” he questioned and started to beat the pack against the heel of his hand.

           “Yeah, there was nothing good on.” Technically not a lie.

           “Ah, makes sense,” he responded and noticed the blanket. He snorted teasingly. “Cold?”

           “No, no, I’m burning up actually. The blanket was so I could feel like I’m in hell.”

           He threw his add head back laughing. “Take it easy, Firecracker. If I hada known you were cold, I would’ve given you my jacket.”

           She smirked at him. “Nah, this is fine. Thanks. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to be cold.”

           “I’ll be fine,” he said and stuck a cigarette between his lips.

           Y/n’s eyes widened and quickly ripped it from him mouth.

           “What the hell, y/n?”

           “Uh, I’m still not feeling well enough. I don’t want hurl all over your car.”

           He scrunched up his nose at her. “Fine. Fair point. But I’m smoking when I get back!”

            Y/n shook her head at him. “What a rebel.”

           “Damn straight,” he responded and turned the car on. “Don’t forget who you’re with.”

           “I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

           He smiled at her before backing up and driving them home for the night.

                                                 --Time Skip—

           The next couple of days were brutal for y/n. Kitty wouldn’t stop interrogating her and y/n finally told something made up to get her off her back. Kitty didn’t believe her, but she backed off knowing she’ll be back again. She wanted so badly to tell Steven about her pregnancy, but every time she tried, it would come out a different sentence.

         “I’m,” she would start, but right when she would look into his baby blue eyes, she would panic. “hungry. I’m hungry, starving! Can we go get something to eat?”

         He would give her a weird look before agreeing and leaving to buy her food.

           On top of that, morning sickness would rear its ugly head and she would end up being sick at the most random of times. She would be sitting down in the basement with her friends, feeling fine, but then she would feel her lunch coming back up and she would have to haul ass to the nearest restroom.

           Everyone was worried about her, trying to get her to go back to the doctor, but she already knew. She had secretly made the appointment with the OB/GYN and wasn’t going to be able to see her until two weeks out. Until then, she had to keep lying and making excuses.

           “It’s been almost a week,” Eric said one afternoon as they were all huddled into the basement. “You really should go back to the doctor.”

                      “I’d rather not,” Y/n said. “Going to the doctors for every sniff and cough is not my thing.”

                     “But it’s not just a sniffle or a cough,” he pointed out. “It’s like one minute you’re fine and then the next you’re throwing up Mom’s tuna casserole.”

                  “That was a long night,” she countered, remembering that night as she had to lay on the floor next to the toilet for hours because she couldn’t stop throwing up.

             “Well, can you still keep down fluids?” Donna asked. “Like, chicken broth, orange juice, and tea?”

           “Yeah, those are fine,” Y/n responded. “I just can’t seem to digest solid foods. But I was able to drink apple juice the other day with some bread. I’m also not nauseas all day anymore. I think I’m getting better.”

             “Well, if you’re feeling better, wanna go shoot some hoops?” Kelso asked.

             “Nah, but you guys can,” Y/n responded. “Me and Donna can just sit and ogle.”

             “I knew you were checking me out,” Kelso purred and rubbed his chest.

             “Not you, you dork,” Y/n said. “Hyde and Eric.”

                      “You ogle at me?” Eric said disgusted. “That’s gross.”

             “No! Donna is, you dumbass!” Y/n said and stood up while Eric laughed. “Moron.”

             She walked outside to the driveway with everyone behind her. As they reached the driveway, the boys split up into their group while Donna and y/n moved away to watch from the porch.

             “So, Hyde, how’s it been with you and y/n?” Kelso asked under his breath, making sure the girls couldn’t hear.

             “You know, things are going good, but with her being sick this past week, it’s been kinda hard not getting any action,” Hyde responded.

             “Ewwwww! Could you please not?” Eric exclaimed. “I told you I don’t wanna hear it.”

             “I know, that’s why I did it,” Hyde laughed and tossed the ball to Eric. “Your play. Go.”

             The girls watched from the porch, admiring the way their men looked. Y/n wanted so badly to jump Hyde’s bones, but didn’t want to puke in the middle of it and ruin the mood. She and Donna chatted idly as they watched their men get sweaty and hot.

             “Look, I know he’s your brother, but damn does he look hot when he’s all concentrated,” Donna swooned as she watched Eric block Fez’s slam dunk.

             “Really? I think he looks constipated,” Y/n laughed.

             In the middle of the play, Eric turned, facing them while trying to block Kelso from making his shot. The concentration he wore on his face made Donna drool but laugh.

             “You’re right, he does look constipated,” she agreed and laughed even more.

             “I know you don’t think so, but Steven just looks so good when he’s moving around like that,” Y/n said and stared at her boyfriend. “I mean, when he gets all sweaty and flushed, it makes me want him so bad.”

             Donna chuckled. “So, how have you guys been?”

             “We’ve been good. You know with me being this sick, we haven’t really gotten the time to do it or anything.”

             “From the looks of it earlier and hearing Eric scream ‘ew’ makes me believe that Hyde already said something like that to him,” Donna laughed once more.

             Y/n chuckled. “Sounds about right.”

             They fell into a comfortable silence as they watched the four boys play basketball. The entire time, y/n’s heart was hammering against her chest, debating on telling Donna right there. She couldn’t take keeping a secret this big from her best friend. Besides, if she wasn’t going to tell someone soon, she was going to explode.

             “Donna,” she said shakily. “I have something to tell you.”

             Seeing how serious her tone was, Donna perked up. “What?”

             “I need you to promise me that you’re not going to freak out. Because if you do, everyone will hear it and I can’t have that right now.”

             Donna’s heart started beating wildly against her own ribcage, now nervous and worried. “Okay?”

           “And whatever happens, promise me you’ll still be my friend?”

           “Of course! What’s going on?”

             Y/n took a deep breath before looking Donna in the eye. At that moment, she wanted to crawl up in a bawl and just cry. But she knew she couldn’t; She had to be strong. So instead she let out a shaky breath.

             “I’m pregnant.”

@lieswithoutfairytales​ @mdittyz123​ @n-dg-wm​ @undead-sierra​ @random-thoughts-003​ @taysirene​ 

[roseverdict]

A Hug In Time

Stan remembers how he got a scar, and then, halfway through regaling his great-niece with the story, he remembers why it wasn't worse and who saved his bacon.

(or, MABEL TIME-TRAVELS ON PURPOSE)

(or, the discord gang knows what this is >:D)

so i was digging into my WIPs and found this, half-finished in my phone. then i wrote the rest of it in a big ol' burst of energy last night/this morning and dropped it in a google doc for the discord. upon their reading it, i was told that if i uploaded this to ao3 it'd be AMAZING so here we are!!!

AO3 link

〜

"Hey, Grunkle Stan?"

"Yes, pumpkin?"

"Where'd you get this scar?"

"…funny you should ask. A lotta these…well, a lotta these were from folks who didn't think too kindly of me, y'know? This one, though…I'm pretty sure it was almost worse than it was."

"What do you mean?"

"Lemme set the scene for you. The year was 1981, in the middle of Wisconsin. I helped this kid keep some teens from egging his ma's garage and went on my merry way, but it turned out those teens had connections with some of the local gangs who weren't all that fond of me. They came after me, and I swore I was a goner, when outta nowhere, this colorful little lady came swooping in to kick their butts before they could get too far and…and… wait a minute… "

"…Grunkle Stan, what's that look on your face for?"

"…Sweetie, do you know if Dipper still has that time-whatsit?"

〜

The year was 1981, in the middle of Wisconsin.

Well, in the suburbs of Milwaukee, specifically, so not so much "in the middle" as much as "on the coastline."

Stan shivered and tucked his head into his jacket a bit tighter as he ducked into an alleyway. The first chill of winter was never pleasant, but the past day or so had been less of a "chill" and more of a "cold snap." He hoped the kids he'd run into last week were doing alright.

He just needed to get to his car and bundle himself up before the snow hit.

"Hey! Mullet!"

…he should've known things wouldn't be that easy.

With a muttered curse, Stan pasted a friendly grin on his face and turned around. "Y'mean me?"

A few members of one of the local gangs were approaching him, and at the helm was a kid who bore an uncanny resemblance to the leader.

He also looked exactly like one of the egg-throwing bullies he'd scared off.

Shit.

"You think you can just waltz on into our territory and tell one of our own what to do?" The leader snapped, gesturing to his brother. (Or maybe cousin?) "Just who do you think you are?"

Stan shrugged nonchalantly. "Call me Andrew. Or don't. It's no skin off my nose. I just figured I shouldn't letcha egg a poor lady's house and pick on her kid."

(The "poor lady" had invited him for supper that evening. Apparently her ma was a caterer, and she'd been testing out a new recipe lately.)

(It was the best meal he'd had in years.)

"Well, if you're gonna be stickin' around, you'd better learn the rules quick. " The leader snapped. He flipped open a butterfly knife and advanced on Stan.

He ducked away from the leader's swipe and shoved his brass knuckles on, getting a nick along his cheekbone for his trouble. He rolled his eyes. "Oh, is that what we're doing? I thought we were having a tea party."

Stan put up his fists and dropped into a fighting stance. The next few minutes weren't going to be fun, but he'd done this song and dance a thousand times before. He knew what to expect.

As if the universe was scolding him for even having that thought, out of nowhere, a kid's voice shouted, "GRAPPLING HOOK!"

True to her word, a grappling hook shot out from behind Stan and caught the leader in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. Stan whirled around to see the most brightly-dressed girl he'd ever seen. She held her grappling hook with an air of confidence and beamed at them. "I, for one, would love it if you all had a tea party, buuut I figure that's not gonna happen, is it?"

"Damn straight, ya little brat! " The leader wheezed.

"Then in that case, see ya, suckers! " The girl yelled, grabbing Stan's hand and dragging him down the alley.

"Don't just stand there! Get them! "

Stan stumbled over his own feet for a moment before getting his stride back and pulling up beside the kid. "Where did you come from?"

"The far-off year of 2013!" The girl chirped, veering out onto the sidewalk and checking her forearm for a moment before putting on the speed. "This way!"

"Alright, fine, don't tell me." Stan snorted. "Why'd you jump in, kid? I coulda handled it! Now they'll be looking for you, too!"

"They won't find me!" The girl smirked. "And I jumped in because- hold up! "

They skidded to a halt just in time to avoid crashing into a car with one of the gangsters in the driver's seat. The girl pulled down one of her eyelids and blew a raspberry before yanking Stan off to one side.

Stan's eyes widened as his own El Diablo came into view.

(What were the odds of this random child knowing how to lead him straight for his car?)

Red flags went up in his head, but considering the girl was getting him away from a group of people who wanted to bash his face in, he shoved them aside for the time being.

They dove for the driver's side door, and Stan fumbled with the keys for a moment before throwing it open and ushering Grappling Hook Girl in. She scrambled into the passenger's seat and buckled up as Stan hopped in and turned the key. With the revving of the well-worn engine, the El Diablo lurched forward and left the gangsters in their dust.

Grappling Hook Girl threw up her arms in victory. "WOO!"

"You were saying something about why you jumped in, kiddo?" Stan reminded her, double-checking the rear-view mirror to make sure there were no other surprise passengers in the backseat.

"Oh, right!" She stowed her weapon under her sweater and gave Stan a cheery wave. "Hi! I'm your friend from the future, and when future-you told me about what happened today, I realized I must've gone back in time! Except I hadn't done it yet, so I still had to do that! Also you're a good guy and don't deserve to get beat up, even without the whole 'trying to avoid a paradox' thing!"

Stan blinked slowly, turning her words over in his head as he drove. "Kiddo, I'm not exactly a model citizen. I appreciate the sentiment, but-!"

"Ah, ah, ah! No buts!" The girl cut him off. "Now, let's see…hah! BWOP!"

Stan jolted as a knit cap was plopped on his head. " JE -HOSEPHAT! Ah, yep, Jehosaphat! That's totally what I was gonna say!"

"I know about swear words already, silly!" The girl giggled. "Anyway, I figured you'd want some stuff to help keep warm, since winter's a-comin', so I made you a hat and a scarf and some gloves! I'll give 'em to you once we hit a stop light or something."

Stan glanced over at her with wide eyes, only for his jaw to drop as she brandished a pair of gloves and a ridiculously-wide "scarf" at him. They seemed to have been hand-knit with almost supernaturally fluffy yarn, in varying dark shades of every color imaginable. "You…you made those? For me? How did you-? Why would you-? "

"Usually I do my best work in sweaters and neons, but I figured you'd appreciate darker colors for stealth reasons." The girl half-answered with a shrug.

"I have… so many questions." Stan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"And I have lots of answers!" The girl grinned. "Just don't ask anything super-spoilery about the future!"

She was really convinced about the whole time-travel thing, huh?

Figuring he could at least humor her before he found a place to drop her off, Stan raised an eyebrow. "Alright, then, what's your name, kid?"

"My name is M-! Actually, wait, that could be a spoiler." The girl cut herself off mid-answer, thinking deeply before brightening up again. "Just call me…Stella Sparklestein!"

Stan snorted. "Alright, 'Stella,' if you apparently know me in the future, then riddle me this: what's my name?"

"You've got a lot of names, but your name -name is Stanley!" Stella answered. "Stanley Pines! But right now you're going by one of your other names instead! Because your dad was a JerkFace McMeanieButt and didn't give you a chance to explain yourself before kicking you out!"

Considering how many years he'd had to perfect the art of the fake ID, either this girl was part of the world's most intricate (and most pointless ) sting operation…or she was telling the truth.

"…alright, so you're from the future." Stan conceded. "Why…why come back in time for me? Why not go back and, I dunno, stop the burning of the Library of Alexandria or something? That's something big and important, right?"

"Aside from the fact that the time cops would get me and I'd have to go to time trial or invoke Globnar?" Stella joked. Her smile turned more sincere as she continued, "I care about you, Stan. I can't tell you why or how, since that'd be getting into pretty big spoiler territory, but I promise you, even if future-you never got into all the darker details with me, I already know all about what you've been through and what you'll go through in the next few decades, and I'll never stop caring. Never, ever, ever!"

That was…huh.

"Stan, are you…are you crying? "

Stan swallowed. "Wh-? No, I just, I just got some dust in my eye!"

Stella just gave him a knowing smile for a moment before moving on. "Well, I meant what I said. Every word."

They drove in silence for a while, leaving Milwaukee County and heading west.

"Hey, Stella, how long are you able to hang around, anyway?" Stan eventually asked.

"…not very." Stella admitted. "I've already done what I knew needed doing, and I can't stick around for long because that might alter some important things that happen, and that would get all time-paradox-y and do some nerd stuff that's probably bad."

"Ah. Then…how 'spoiler'-y do you think you can get?" Stan asked. "If you're from the future and you know me, you gotta know what comes next."

Stella nodded enthusiastically. "Ooh, yeah! I can go all 'mysterious prophecy' and because I won't be coming right out and saying it, the time cops can't touch me! Okay, uh, gimme a second to think."

Stan shot her a bemused grin, and she beamed at him before clearing her throat and putting on an overly-serious face.

"Stanley Danley Pines, the road you travel will be a long and difficult one. No matter what hardships you face, no matter how hard you get knocked down, you have to always, always keep going. It'll all be worth it in the end, but you have to get there. There'll be times when you don't think getting a happy ending is possible, that your only hope is worlds away, but so long as you keep fighting for it, it will come to pass. We're all counting on you, and we're all cheering for you…even if it takes a bit longer for some people to get on board. You're our hero,Stanley."

Trying to stave off the massive wave of existential dread, Stan chuckled nervously. "That's…that's kinda heavy, kid."

"Too much?" Stella winced.

"Nah, just caught me off-guard is all." Stan shrugged and drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. "Usually, whenever my ma made her predictions, either she'd tell a tall tale of fame and fortune, or, if she knew the person, she'd just work out what was clearly about to happen, but something like this? It's…a bit out there, I guess."

"Well, it's the truth." Stella insisted. "Just…promise me you'll never give up? Keep that trademark Pines Family Stubbornness going strong?"

Stan sighed. "Kid, I can't promise jack. "

"Please?"

Oh, no.

Puppy-dog eyes.

"Ah, what the heck. Fine, I promise." He finally relented, reaching over and mussing up Stella's hair. "I swear, you've already got me wrapped around your finger, and I've only known you for half an hour, tops!"

Stella squealed and bounced in her seat. "That's just the Power of Ma-er, Stella for you, Stan! I'm irresistibllllle! "

Stan found himself laughing with the kid, fixing the way the hat she'd given him sat on his head with one hand.

They drove for a while longer, joking around some now that the tense atmosphere was gone. Stella helped him pull on the gloves and scarf, and Stan had to admit, she clearly knew her way around her knitting needles. His fingers and face felt toasty-warm for the first time in a while.

Eventually, however, Stella sighed. "I should probably head back home."

Stan frowned, but nodded and pulled onto the shoulder of the highway.

Stella unbuckled and reached for the door handle, but then she pulled back for a moment, conflicted.

And then tiny arms were clinging to Stan as tight as could be.

It took him a moment to process what was going on, but once he did, he awkwardly returned the hug. "Hey, kid, uh, chin up. You said it yourself, you're a time-traveler, aren'tcha? You're probably about to go right back to old-man-me, so it's not like you'll have to go a while without seeing this ugly mug."

Stella sniffled and squeezed tighter, burying her face in his chest. "Y-yeah, but you're still gonna have to be alone for ages! It's…it's not fair! Who voted on the laws of reality, anyway?!"

Oh.

"Look, Stella, sometimes…sometimes life gives you a shi- bad hand, and you just have to work with what you have." Stan said, carefully rubbing calming circles into Stella's shoulders. "You're right, it's not fair, but eventually everyone has to grow up."

Stella's voice held a weight to it that Stan just couldn't explain when she next spoke.

"But not too much."

Stan blinked, and he wanted to ask what she meant, but before he could get the chance, she looked up at him with a determined expression he'd only ever seen on the faces of those who'd seen some great injustice. "Hopefully this hug can hold you over until I get back. Whenever something bad happens, I want you to remember that there are people who love you for who you are. I want you to pretend I'm giving you a hug, and then imagine being hugged by a bunch more people I can't describe because they're spoilers, and then imagine Gr-Ford hugging you. You got that?"

Stan swallowed down the lump in his throat. "I…I'll try."

"Good." Stella nodded once, then scrubbed at her face with a laugh. "And then once I get back, you'd better be prepared for the best hug of your life, mister!"

"I'll try to remember that." Stan smirked and ruffled her hair in an attempt to keep up his gruff image.

(Stella's smile turned bittersweet at his words, but he couldn't really figure out why, so he locked up that observation for the forseeable future.)

"Now enough stalling, little missy." Stan shook a finger at her lightheartedly. "Don't wanna screw up the timeline or whatever."

"Right." Stella nodded and gave him one last squeeze before turning and hopping out the door. Over her shoulder, she called, "Oh! And maybe try the west coast! It's about to get chilly in Wisconsin, and I've got a good feeling about the west!"

Stan lifted a hand in farewell, intending to wave and then put his car back into drive-

Stella smiled warmly and slid a tape measure from her pocket, and she pulled the tape out before letting it snap back in-

-there was a flash of light, and when Stan could see again, Stella was gone, leaving only his new knitwear as evidence of her existence.

Stan's face lost all its color.

Time travel was actually real.

Stella hadn't just been making it up.

That meant…

…that meant there was a future where the bubbliest little girl would decide that Stan was worth going back in time to help him out and give him a new hat and scarf and gloves.

…that meant there was a future where Stan was old enough to still be around in 2013.

In the coming months and years, he would have more and more shocked realizations about the girl from the future.

There was a future where she knew both Stan and Ford, and where she knew what had gone on between them well enough to make an ominous prophecy that described Ford's disappearance to a T.

There was a future where his family let him back into their ranks as himself, instead of under Ford's name.

There was a future where the two best kids on the planet would find out everything he'd kept secret for so long.

There was a future where Mabel would travel back in time just to help him.

There was a future where everything would work out.

There was a future where he was a hero.

(There was a future where he'd forget everything and have to rebuild his memory in fits and starts, only remembering the significance of the scar on his face in the middle of talking to Mabel about it.)

In the present, however, Stan just shakily put his car into drive and started heading west.

That night, he sat in a motel room in South Dakota and watched the news.

Apparently a historic snowstorm was set to descend on Wisconsin in the next few days.

Stan shot a glance at his new knitwear and stared at it for a long, long time.

〜

"Grunkle STA-AN! I'M BA-ACK! "

"Oh! How'd it go, Pumpkin?"

"Pretty good, considering, but… "

" …but? "

"Remember when I told you to be prepared for the best hug of your life? "

"Mabel. Mabel, sweetie. Mabel-! "

"MWAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"HA HA! You weren't kidding!"

"You better believe it! Now…PINESES ASSEMBLE!"

"Mabel, what're you-?"

"I said 'the best hug of your life,' didn't I? It wouldn't be the best hug of your life if it was just a Mabel Hug!"

"Mabel, Grunkle Ford and I were just-!"

"HUG THIS STAN!"

"…I can absolutely get behind this. HEY, GRUNKLE FORD, GET SOOS! IT'S STAN-HUGGING TIME!"

"I believe Stan-hugging time should really just be anytime, but I'll allow it."

"A Mr. Pines hug? Sweet! "

"Woah, woah, woah-! "

"TIMBEEER!!!"

"…I…thanks."

"We love you, Grunkle Stan!"

"…heh. I love you knuckleheads, too."

[fockfjdkfncnfn]

Quite the ride | Luke Hemmings smut

summary: it’s a normal day and you didn’t have much plans except for dropping off some overdue books at the library. on the way, you decide to stop by at a cafe and you meet Luke there for the first time. you hit it off really well and on a cute date with him to a carnival and then things escalate.

warnings: unprotected sex, sex on the first date, oral uhmmm yeaaaa

requested: YES!! this is my first request from one of my friends i’ve just made here on tumblr! <3 their @ is @lukeshemmo. they write too so go check their stuff out!

word count: 3125

A/N: hiii!! thank y’all so much for 36 notes on my first smut!!!! i was really shocked to see so many people had read it and liked and tevloghed and stuff so thank you so much and i hope you enjoy this one <3 remember, requests are open to feel free to leave some!

ps. the book/cafe names i used in this are random ones that i just found in google lolol okay enjoy!

——————————————————————————

It was a chilly winter morning and you were woken up by the sounds of your bed creaking as you were rolling over. You fluttered your eyes open and looked out the window to see the frost on the corners of your windows and the slightest bit of sunlight shining through the tree branches outside. “So cold” you whispered to yourself as you reached your arm out from under your warm blanket to grab your phone. as you took the charger out from your phone, you saw the screen light up, showing a reminder you had set for yourself the night before so that you could see it first thing in the morning. “Return books to the library,” it said. annoyed, you groaned and set your phone down beside you. You secretly wanted to stay in bed all day because of how chilly it was, but you knew that if you didn’t take the books back today you’d have to pay for it. 

With that thought in mind, you sat up and stretched your arms above your head and planted your feet on your cold hardwood floors, and made your way into the kitchen. You wanted to have a quick and simple breakfast since you weren’t feeling too hungry, so you settled on a bowl of cereal. 

you grabbed out a white bowl and poured your cereal and milk into it, thinking about what else you could do for the rest of the day after returning the books. You sat down at your kitchen island and started to eat. as you were eating, you scrolled through Instagram on your phone and an ad caught your attention. 

“Groundup cafe! grand opening happening today downtown! Come visit and enjoy some fresh, deliciously made coffee”

“That sounds interesting,” you thought to yourself as you ate another spoonful of cereal. You did some more research to see where the cafe was located and noticed that it was only a couple of minutes away from the library you were going to. “Maybe I’ll go after'' you thought to yourself as you finished the last of your cereal and put the bowl in the sink. 

You made your way into the bathroom and took a quick shower and brushed your teeth. You wrapped your hair up in a towel and one around your body then walked out to go to your closet. “Hmm what should I wear?’ You thought to yourself. Outside it was lightly snowing, so you decided that layering up would be a good idea. You decided to wear some cream white corduroy jeans, a black turtleneck and a short black puffer jacket with some high top docs. For makeup, you didn’t wanna go too heavy since it was a cold snowy day, so you just did some foundation and mascara. To finish the look off, you dipped your ring finger into a pot of tinted pink lip balm and spread it across your lips to give them some life, and used the residue left on your finger to spread on your cheeks to bring some color back into your face. You dried your hair and curled it, put on some earrings and you headed out the door with a tote bag that had the books in it. 

Since the cafe was on the way to the library, you decided to stop by there first and maybe get a drink since your hands were numb from the cold wind.

When you arrived, you put your hand out to grab the cold copper door handle and pushed it to make your way in. 

You were greeted with the smell of coffee and the sound of people talking amongst themselves, not to mention the noticeable temperature change in the atmosphere which was comforting. You went up to the counter and looked up to see what drinks they had on the menu. Your thoughts were interrupted when the barista started talking to you. 

“Hi! What can I get ya?” They said with a cheery smile on their face. 

You shifted your eyes slightly down to meet theirs and as you opened your mouth to respond, you suddenly got pushed, and then you felt hot coffee run down the arm of your jacket. “Fuck” you said with an annoyed tone. as you tried to use your other arm to wipe the coffee off of yourself,  You looked up to see who had rudely bumped into you, but your rage quickly melted away when you were met with the most beautiful pair of blue eyes. 

“I am so sorry,” he says with a sense of urgency in his voice. “I didn’t mean to, the person behind me was in a rush so I tried to move out the way and I accidentally bumped into you, let me go get some napkins for you and I'll buy you your drink,” he said as he quickly turned to get some napkins. 

as he was walking away, you couldn’t help but notice his beautiful golden curls and also how tall he was which was one of your biggest turn-ons. confused at what had just happened, you quickly turn to the barista and say “I’ll just have a peppermint mocha please” with a soft smile and you sit down at the nearest table. 

You see him walk towards you, drink and napkins in hand and a look of remorse on his face.

“I am so sorry for what happened back there,” he says as he gently places the drink in front of you and hands you the napkins. “Are you okay?” He asks 

“Yeah, I'm okay. Thank you” you say as you take the napkins from his hands and try to wipe the already dried coffee off of your sleeve. 

For a second it got a bit awkward because he was just standing there, but he gave you a little smile and glanced over to your bag which was open, putting on display the books you had in there. 

“Is that the east of Eden??” He says as his face lights up with excitement 

“Yea!!” You respond smiling and looking up at him. 

He quickly sits down at the empty chair across from you and you both start talking about the book. He asks questions like “what's your favorite chapter?”, “who’s your favorite character?”, “do you like the ending?” And before you could even catch each other's names, you both noticed that the cafe which was full when you first arrived was now empty, the only other people occupying the space being the workers cleaning up the machines and floors. 

“Woah, I didn’t even realize we had been talking for so long!” You say as you glance down at your phone to see the time. 

“Yeah me too” says with a soft laugh.

“What was your name by the way?” He says, looking at you with his bright blue eyes 

“Oh, its y/n” you say with a smile 

“Well, I'm Luke,” he says, playfully offering a hand out to you for a handshake. “Nice to meet you, beautiful”

After those words fell from his lips, you could feel butterflies swarming your stomach and blood rushing to your cheeks. 

“Nice to meet you,” you say giggling, taking his hand, and shaking it. 

His grip was strong but caring. You knew that it was crazy to feel such a strong connection to a person you had met only a couple of hours ago but when the workers informed you both that they were closing, you just didn’t want to leave. 

As you grabbed your bag and now empty coffee cup he stood up and asked,

“What are you doing tonight?’ 

It was like he read your mind and felt the connection too 

“Nothing” you quickly blurt out

“There's this carnival happening tonight just across town, would you maybe want to go?” He said hesitantly with a shaky voice 

“I'd love to!” you say, smiling up at him. 

You both walk out of the cafe and he leads you to his car. As you were approaching his it, you saw the library that you needed to go to. The whole reason why you left your house in the first place, but this was much more important, you thought to yourself. 

You hopped in his car and he drove the both of you to the carnival. It was dark now, still cold but not as windy and it wasn’t snowing anymore. You saw bright flashing neon lights, children running around with their families, and young couples going on their first dates. “what the hell am I doing,” you thought to yourself for a brief second. When he hopped out of the car, you watched as he made his way around to your side to open the door for you. As he did, you took the few seconds you had to yourself to process what was happening. You planned to go to the library today, met some random stranger who spilled coffee on you and now you’re going on a kinda date with him to this random carnival. “But how could I turn this down?” you thought to yourself “he’s my ideal type. I mean, he’s tall, handsome, has the most hair, we talked non stop for like four hours, it's hard to find a connection like that with anyo-'' your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the car door opening. 

“The carnival awaits” he says holding the door for you and offering you a hand to help you get out

“Thank you,” you say giggling, taking his hand, and stepping out of the car. 

The whole night was filled with laughter and youth as you both chaotically ran around the carnival like little kids and going on ride after ride. The connection between the two of you became stronger despite how little time you really had spent with each other. Everything was starting to quiet down and you both decided to finish the night off by going on the Ferris wheel. While waiting in the line, Luke turned to you and rest his hand on your shoulder 

“I'll be back, I'm just gonna.. go to the bathroom” he said in a suspicious tone, a grin displayed on his face. 

You didn’t think much of it and just waited in line till he got back. You had your hands behind your back, rocking back and forth from heel to toe smiling out of pure joy. You hadn’t felt this happy in a long time. 

When it was finally your turn to go on this Ferris wheel, Luke just got back in time and you both hopped in and looked at the sky as it started moving, bringing you both closer to the stars.

“I had a really great night tonight,” Luke says with a soft smile. 

“Me too” you say, returning the gratitude. 

You felt the butterflies emerge again as the ride stopped. you were now both at the top of the Ferris wheel and looking into each other's eyes. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks with a soft and gentle tone 

Without any thought, you leaned in to connect your lips to his and as they did, you felt sparks going off in your heart. your hands gently cupped his jaw as his hands gently wrapped around your waist. as you break away from the kiss, you both look at each other for a second and giggle. 

“This is crazy” you say giggling, still cupping his face 

“I know,” he says laughing. He looks down and away for a second and his eyes shoot back up at you.

 “Would you possibly wanna come to my place?” He asks, looking at you with the eyes of a puppy 

“Sure” you say softly, smiling.

The Ferris wheel eventually started moving again and you slowly felt the grass under your feet again. He helps you out and instead of letting your hand go, he keeps it there, and your fingers intertwine. 

“Wait, before we go,” he says. “I have a surprise for you” 

Confused, you look at him with furrowed eyebrows. “A surprise?’ You say. 

He unties his fingers from yours and reaches around his back and pulls out a rose. 

“For you” he says 

You look at him, mouth slightly open realizing that when he was going to the “bathroom” he was really going to go buy you a rose. You stood there saying nothing because of how sweet this gesture was. He playfully turns around to see the flashing colourful lights. 

“The lights are interesting than this flower?” He says jokingly 

you laugh. “No!! I just, this is so sweet” you say. “Thank you” you say quietly as you take the rose from him.

“Of course y/n'' he says. You liked the way your name rolled off his tongue. It just sounded right. 

When you finally leave the carnival and make it to his house, he opens the door and moves aside so that you can walk in first. His house felt warm and welcoming, despite the fact that you had never been there before. 

“This is my home!” He says smiling as he shuts the door behind him. 

“It's beautiful” you say in admiration, looking around. 

“Not as much as you” he says as he walked towards you and wrapped his arms around your waist. His lips crashed onto yours and your hands wandered around his broad back. As you were making out, he picked you up so that your legs were wrapped around him and you giggled into the kiss as he carried you to his bedroom. Once he was there, he set you down gently onto his bed, using his arms to support you on the way down, and kissed your forehead once you had landed. 

“Is it okay if I take your shirt off?” He asked with a soft and loving voice 

“Of course” you say smiling, knowing what was about the unfold 

He started kissing your neck and making his way down to your breasts and you quickly unhooked your bra and tossed it to the side. He wrapped his lips around your left nipple while his hand cupped the other. You let out a small whimper at the feeling of his tongue swirling around your nipple. You felt his other hands move from your waist slowly down to your core, stopping just above your pussy as if to ask for permission. He looked down to see where his hand was and looked back up at you. you nodded, letting him know that this was something that you were okay with. 

He moved down so that his face was now in-between your legs and he unbuttoned your pants. You bucked your hips to help him pull them down along with your underwear, leaving you now completely exposed. 

“God you’re so beautiful” he whispered before diving in to eat you out

Your breath hitched as you felt his lips wrap around your clit and his tongue swirl around, making you become even wetter for him. 

“Ugh, right there” you moaned out as you tangled your fingers through his hair and moved your hips to match his movements. He moaned into you, making you feel the vibrations. 

He inserted a finger into you making you squirm in pleasure. 

“Fuck” you say as he pumps in and out of you. 

“I'm close” you say as you throw your head back onto the sheets. 

After he hears that, he stops, and before you can complain, he crashes his lips onto yours, forcing you to taste yourself. He moaned as he rubbed his bulge against your body. 

“You're such a tease,” you say with a grin as he breaks away from the kiss. 

he giggles and quickly takes off his shirt, along with his jeans and boxers exposing his length that was extremely hard. 

“Need a little help with that?” You say as you stand up and go on your tippy-toes to kiss him. You loved how tall he was compared to you. you watch as he sits down on the bed and you situate yourself between his legs and get on your knees. You lick a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip and he lets out a moan which makes you want him so bad. 

“Fuck it, just get on top of me” he says, lust-filled in his eyes as he looks at you with a hungry expression. 

You’re quick to follow his orders and stand up and get on the bed, your knees now on either side of his body. 

you lower yourself onto his length and you both moan out in pleasure. You start rocking back and forth feeling him inside of you. 

“Fuck y/n yes, don’t stop” Luke moans as he grabs your hips to help you move with him.

“Holy fuck” you moan out as you continue to move your hips faster. You start to lean forward, placing your hands on his chest and he bucks his hips up and down to pump into you. 

“Oh my god Luke” you moan shakily as he roughly thrusts into you, getting the perfect angle to hit your g spot. 

“Rub your clit for me baby” he moans and you do as you're told. 

The feeling starts to become overwhelming and you could feel your walls tightening around him. you felt your high coming and you knew that you were close. 

“I'm close Luke” you moan out breathlessly as you continue to rub your clit and feel Lukes long and thick length pump in and out of you. 

“Just hold on a little longer” he moaned out as he started to thrust into you even faster. 

He moved his hands from your hips to your back and flipped you over and pounded into you 

“Fuck Luke” you moaned with each thrust. He loved hearing his name fall from your lips.

“I can’t hold on much longer” you barely manage to say as you were trying not to cum before him 

“Cum with me beautiful”

That's all it took for you to let go. You moaned out his name, making it echo in the room. He came with you moaning out in pleasure and satisfaction. He sloppily thrust into you so that you could both ride out your highs and then flopped down next to you. 

Once you caught your breath, you turned to see his beautiful face and you reached your hand out to move a curl out of his face so that you could get a better view. 

“Out of all the rides we went on today, you were the best” you say giggling into his neck 

“It definitely was quite the ride” he says as he wrapped you in his arms.