#could fit into a crack in the wall if it tried hard enough. probably.

[euclydya]

💰

i think it's sooo fucked up how Rhetoric is just a giant centipede looking thing? like dude you're not even centipede-ing right the guy has arms for legs and too many torsos and I think a. stinger? like a scorpion one. and I'm like Hi! you sre so scary ♥ . also it's tall. everybody's so tall exceot for liej 2 other people .

anyways rhetoric likes to pick me ip by the scruff and im likw Screams. please put me down,

-Electrochem

[tarjapearce]

Poppy Blue

Blue Jones! Miguel x Baby Doll! Reader.

Art by @marbipa on x

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Power play, choking kink, rough sex, mentions of abuse, preying, toxic and perverted behavior, implicit clandestine and illegal activities, lobotomy, dissociation, implicit depersonalization, objectification, hate sex, manhandling, violence, sub space. No Proofread.

Summary: Messy things ~ (I guess?) Miguel as Blue Jones from Sucker Punch.

A/N: Watched Sucker Punch last night and... yeah. Had to get this out of my system. ~ Another one for the Miguelverse ~

Masterlist

All it took was a bullet. Aimed at your assailant with no intentions of missing. Yet you did. You missed, failed terribly so. His chest was your goal, instead it went directly to his shoulder.

Projectile ripping and scorching skin, tissue and muscle in the go, earning a shaky and pained yelp. But it was the least he deserved after trying to be sneaky on your sister, that laid cold and bled out in the floor. She was no match for his knife and his blood thirst of the night. The rest was a blur.

And now, you were dragged down to the wet and dull greys walls of your future home. Lennox House. Or rather Lennox Asylum for the Mentally Ill.

Everything about the place screamed danger, everything about the people working in the monstrosity of place yelled I'm no better.

Barefoot, soaked in rain, holding your new uniform and gazing at the biggest man you've seen in you life, holding a bunch of keys while his eyes bore into you.

The way he stared made your skin crawl and it didn't help your clothes clung to your body. Arms braced the uniform closer to your chest, trying to cover it up. His eyes wandered to the man behind you, a police officer with three scratched lines into his face. You hadn't left him unscathed. Not when he tried to play rough with you back at your old home.

The man showed you around, place was as depressing as it was from the outside, but The Theater took the prize.

Girls your age dressed in gray, socializing in the area. And by socializing it'd mean to watch them either receive therapy with a polish beautiful woman named Vera Gorski, or watch them fight over the stupidest things. But who could blame them?

Some probably had enough time inside that had memorized the cracks in the wall, the scratches on the floor, the number of chewed gums underneath the table or how many dust particles were accumulated in the windows. Gray. Everything was gray and dull.

Even the voice of the men behind you talking about a price for your silence were tiresome and dry. Two thousand. That's what your memories were valued as. A number you now hated.

Corrupt pigs

The police officer gave you a gentle push forward as a nurse came to fetch you. The simple touch of that man made your skin revolt and slapped him hard across his wilting face, a scowl on your grimace that slowly turned into a smirk as the police officer tried to catch you, but you were being dragged away by two nurses into a life that would turn your head upside down and backwards, the many times it saw fit until you'd understand that you weren't in charge.

Until you'd understand your purpose.

Dance.

"If you don't dance, you have no purpose."

Madam Gorski murmured to you. Pretty, dangerous and aware of the many many situations revolving in the brothel. Cause in truth, the asylum was just an alibi and a frontage for the real deal. House Lennox. A house of pleasure.

Bets, drinks, sex, meds and a hell of a show to anyone that filled Miguel's pockets.

The main attraction? Girls that society deemed unfit to keep within her picky guts. Too into messy situations to keep the pretense around relatives. Too fucked up to function properly but good enough to mold and shape into something useful, and too tempting to break even further.

She mumbled while circling you, her dark eyes scrutinized you unabashedly, taking in everything her sight could reach. Pursing her pouty lips upon your body.

Pretty, scared, still holding a grip on reality while trying to swallow a really hard to deglute pill, and oh so perfect for a new purpose.

"We do not keep things in here that serve no purpose."

The collide of her cane on the floor was like a metronome, setting the pace to enter a forbidden place, somewhere that none could reach but you. Mind splitting in two, dissociating soul from conscience, leaving an empty, moving vessel behind. You were free for a moment. And now you wanted more, more of that place where your imagination ran rampant.

Where Gorski's words meant nothing, where the guards had no power, where you were allowed to break down and feel without second intentions or being frowned upon. But mainly, without Miguel’s preying gaze licking you raw while undressing your form with it.

But the clapping and praising brought you back to this reality. Red eyes fell upon you, studying, raking over your body upside down, stopping at your thighs to then go back to your flushed and breathless face.

Mr. O'Hara. Miguel 'Blue' O'Hara. The asylum guard, the key bearer, perverted pimp, and your new shadow.

Ever since that dance many things changed.

Even though you danced, duties in the asylum weren't to be neglected. If you said no, you'd get a visit to the hole.

If you didn't dance, you'd get a visit to the hole.

But if you didn't do things Miguel's way, you'd get a personal talk with him, and then a visit to the hole.

And those talks, surely weren't words.

Scrubbing the floors gave you the chance to listen a bit of everything. Girl's derangements, psychotic outbreaks, mumblings that were filled in with regret and many more flourishing emotions; the ever loud music from the cook, and the unceasing mewls and obscene noises coming from Miguel's office.

Some girls misbehaved on purpose, just to get a taste of him. Others did anything to draw his attention to them, specially in the dance floor. But you knew better to anger him.

Sure, pleasure came in hand with a high price. He wasn't good, he wasn't nice nor gentle, matter-of-factly some girls cried during their one on one sessions and the degradation only enhanced the tears.

Sick fuck.

Gorski's alarms flared up upon seeing belt marks on their legs and ass, bites in their inner thighs and bruises on their hips. Eyes a bit too gone and tired to actually work in anything. They might have spread the gossip around of Miguel fucking them, and even enjoyed it.

But the aftermath of it, said otherwise. And it was enough to keep you on check, but even so he was pulled to you like a magnet so strong you could see the refrain in his eyes every time he approached you.

Hands shaky, tongue rubbing and wetting his plump lips, a soft flush on his cheeks and pleading eyes. A silent 'Let me play too' cause he wasn't allowed to touch, or taste you. Instead, he'd use the girls willing to please him to take his anger out. Their bodies meant nothing, they meant nothing cause they weren't you.

They didn't have your body, they didn't have your sweet voice that distorted into moans and gasps that he'd kill to induce every time you danced, but above all, they didn't have your spark.

That little interaction with the police when you first arrived, had him folding on a bathroom, stroking himself to oblivion at the mere sound of your slaps.

Unbeknownst to you, you held so much power over him. Power he was set to dull, because he was the only one in control. Not even Gorski and her stupid polish methods to get in the rest's head. He ran the place and had it under control.

For how long though?

You wanted out. His little Poppy wanted out and surely would get everything to be free and leave him, forsake him in this damned place.

Anger flowed within his veins like molten lava upon remembering how other men looked at you, how other men wanted you. They'd possibly been imagining how good and tight your insides would feel cause the way you moved when you were up in the stage, was surreal. It was like another person took over.

But he, a sick fuck through and through, would want both. No. He'd have both. He craved and needed both, even better when you were dressed in such things that only added more dry bones to his needy fire.

Fucking lucky of them to feel you and be a your second skin. Even that stupid and everything but innocent uniform you were to dress every day, stirring up enough to let him take a peek of your panties, or the stockings underneath that remained etched on your supple thighs he'd often fantasize in getting lost between.

He just had to wait for you to misbehave. But sadly you didn't seem keen into breaking the rules. He'd wait.

---

"Stormy, come."

Vera called another girl. Whoever gave their names either knew them too well or picked random words in a go. Gorski too engrossed into her lessons to notice you had been dragged away by other guards under Miguel's petition.

Had you forgotten about something? No. Surely not. Last week's chores were fulfilled completely, the bathrooms were clean, the kitchen's dishes turn were washed up, and so were the floors. Your wrists sore, a reminder to ask for a new brush.

And-

Shit.

Fuck.

The laundry.

Some dancers had ran out of stockings, lingerie, and some sheets from the brothel needed to be replaced ASAP.

But you, Poppy, as Vera had called you and it stuck with the rest ever since, had trouble. Just cause you had forgotten about the damn laundry.

Miguel's formidable frame came into view, he was on a call, lying on how well someone's daughter was doing after a lobotomy. How they didn't have to worry about her anymore.

Your stomach felt sick and your heart leaped on your chest once he ended up the call. The guards had been long gone, leaving you with your shadow alone.

If honest, you knew Miguel either followed or kept you watched under hawk's eyes. Time stopped as soon as he turned to face you.

Pupils wide blown as soon as you came into his sight.

"My sweet, sweet Poppy."

He inhaled deeply and clasped his hands together before his face. An uncontainable smirk morphed into a light titter.

"You've been a bad girl, princesa."

His hands slamming on the table before him made you jolt and blink at his sudden mood shift.

"We..." He wetted his lips as he came behind you, "We were counting on you, Mi cielo. But... you failed us. Failed me."

A gulp as his breath fanned over the crook of your neck.

"You see..." His big and long fingers brushing your hair away from the right side of your head joint, "Now I gotta improvise something for the next show. "

"I'm sorry, I forgot-"

His hand took a hold of your neck and the contact made him growl. Warm, smooth, feeling every heartbeat underneath his big and calloused palms.

Lips dangerously close to your ear, breathing and panting as he pulled you closer to him, your back colliding against his torso and abdomen.

"Shh"

He hushed while taking a big whiff off you. A mix of soap, perfume and cigarettes. His hand squeezed tighter, earning a lovely and sweet yelp from you as he pushed you against his desk.

Your eyes widened in surprise upon feeling the hardening cock in between the slot of your thighs, poking, begging to be released and finally take you.

"You remind me of someone. Too bad she lost her spark."

His hand riled the skirt of your uniform up, passing up some layers of extra clothing, your underwear and stockings. Hand plunged inside to finally allowing his fingers to have a sample of your flesh.

"But I'm keeping yours alight, sweetheart."

His cock twitched when he found your clit. Fingers dexterous and peeling the outer folds away to give a gentle rub before you closed your legs almost instantly. A little delaid reaction, your brain was still processing it.

You went completely still when he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips. He sucked them off with hunger, groaning and trembling at the taste.

"Por Dios, preciosa..."

You tried to pry his hand out of your neck but the struggle made his breathings more labored and needy as he humped and ground against you from behind. Letting his tip to speak volumes at how hard and wanton he was. How bad you made him react. How much power you had over him.

Of course.

The idea of having him subdued to you assaulted your mind. Pressuring you into pleading, just like your clit that clenched and twitched upon having his tip rubbing in a slow yet firm strokes.

His hands went back inside your panties, searching for the nub of nerves that had you melting. Tongue skimming at the tender skin of your neck.

Just as he was about to bury a finger knuckle deep, the ever annoying voice of Vera urging Miguel from outside the door, asking for you. Her dear and lovely Poppy.

"Chingada madre" (Fucking shit)

He sighed with an exasperated growl and looked at the door.

"The fuck you want?!"

"I need Poppy on the practice. Now."

Where was the shocking baton when he needed it the most?

For once, you were relieved to know that you didn't go unnoticed under Gorski's watch. She protected the girls in her own way.

Knees trembled as he kept the hand inside. A little miscalculation had you whimpering while his fingers remained trapped in your flesh. His eyes snapped back on you with a smirk.

A hand clasped on top of your mouth, suffocating any moans as he worked his fingers between your pussy. Touching and prodding at the forbidden flesh, a moan vibrated through his hand with a high pitched Hmm

"I'll get her to you right away!"

Miguel yelled while working his fingers harder and faster, alternating between rubbing and fucking your hole with them.

"Spread your legs wider, pretty baby" The husk of his voice made you close your eyes and hips hump ever shyly at his hands. Gaining as much friction as possible.

"Miguel, I need her now."

He grumbled under his breath while moving his hands faster. The wet smooch and sucking squelch had him humping against your panties, breaths agitated, muttering something you could only decipher as filth in spanish, your hands clenched onto him, tightly fisted on his clothes.

Just a bit more

He heard Vera cursing in her native tongue as he prodded his fingers inside, toying with your opening. Stretching and fucking it at his likings.

"You fucking little slut"

He tittered while rubbing furiously in your clit. A bit too rough that had you bucking and trembling in his arms. If his hands made you quiver and melt he couldn't wait to see what his cock could do. You drenched his fingers.

Said fingers were cleaned up again by his mouth with a droopy and pleasure drunk face.

Despite having your legs shaky, he held you by the hips, and forced you to grab onto his desk. His hands quickly fumbled with his pants and boxers, pulling his cock out.

He stroked a couple of times, tip susceptible to stimulation. He pulled the panties aside, your stockings the only barrier between you and his erection. The flimsy layer of clothes instantly adhered to your soaked skin, He pushed in between your thighs, rubbing his cock back and forth with slow thrust against your pussy. His hot length brushed against the already engorged and sensitive nub.

The tightness of your warm thighs smooshed together created the perfect friction hole for him without actually penetrating you. So close and yet so far of that forbidden territory. Soft mewls and whimpers came out your mouth, too enraptured in feeling than verbalizing your pleasure.

He also needed his toys. Specially his favorite. Stockings were thoroughly soaked the more he pushed his cock in and out. Labia clothed and slicked parted to feel his shallow moves. He used you as his fleshlight, his hips smacking yours. His chest rumbled with animalistic and low growls.

His hands were clumsy as the pleasure turned overwhelming, you could see the flushed tip of him peeking out your thighs, the urge of tasting him turned bigger the faster he went. You were trying so hard to keep it as quiet as possible.

"Wished I was inside you, don't you?"

You gasped as he purposely angled his tip in your dripping hole. A shivering breath was all he received.

He took you by your chin and squeezed

"Don't you?!"

"Y-Yes!"

"Yes, what?!"

"Yes, sir."

Jesus fucking Christ.

He pushed in deeper in your cunt, his cock pushed a bit of the stockings inside as he doused it with his cum, unable to hold back any longer, marking you.

You had never heard a man pant and wheeze like that before. So deep, raspy, needy, cradling you tighter, anchoring to you as he shook his orgasm out.

"Fuck- Ay Dios, fuckfuck-"

He slurred while engulfing your frame against the table. Breathings matching his erratic ones.

Your skin between supple thighs felt clammy and sticky. Black stockings ruined completely by the white and wet patch of his scent.

Hot breath fanned over your neck.

"Can't wait to feel the real de-"

The door banged.

"Boss! We need you!"

The guards and Vera had proposed to fuck around with him cause his patience had been tested many times.

Your steps marching away from him snapped him out of his thoughts, He blinked and held you by the wrist, pulling you once more to him to kiss you.

Your first kiss in years. Soft but needy and filled in with a promise to fulfill later.

Now that he had a taste, there was none to stop him. He'd take his favorite toy and go home.

----

Freedom was taken away from you, right before your eyes. Forsaken by your so called friends, marooned by the crew you had gathered within the depths of despair. Your hope had given them a chance at surviving, your courage had transformed you into a fucked up sisterhood, but it was their greed that made you the ultimate sacrifice to their success.

You could only watch while thrashing your way out, but the more you fought, the more guards came to you, but one in particular pulled you out of the mess like a feather. But you didn't stop fighting. Not even when your tabs were in absolute zero probabilities of winning, not when Miguel dragged you inside manhandling your crying form like a ragdoll.

Scratches, fists and other punches didn't move him in the slightest. His grip tightened once you both were locked up in his office once more. He tossed you on the floor.

"Why... Why did you want to leave?"

His tone menacing yet hurt.

The idea of you almost slipping away from him had sent him in a berserk mode that unleashed hellbent through the asylum. Just to find you and when he did, he wanted nothing but hurt you, just the way you've hurt him.

Wasn't his attention enough? , wasn't him being lenient on you and your chores enough? Wasn't he enough?

"WHY?!"

You were too dumbfounded to process his question. Too marked with shame at your failure and rage to pay him attention, and that alone sent him grabbing you by the neck and crash you against a vanity. Tossing everything above it to the floor.

Your back collided against the now shattered mirror, you yelped but still managed to slap him and that made him groan and nod frantically.

Yes

One of his hands was more than enough to hold your both arms as he positioned between your thighs, pressing further against you.

"You don't like me, Poppy? Why?"

"Let me go!"

His hand squeezed your neck tightly, cutting all air for a minute while he kissed you. Sloppy, angry and so full with lust and rage. It gave you no time to react while his other hand tore the panties from underneath your skirt.

You kept slapping him, but that only enticed him to spread you further

"Love that fucking spark on you, preciosa."

He then thrashed you against the table sending a painful jolt through your body, It made you still for a moment.

"No! No! Don't-" his eyes widened in panic, "Don't lose it. Please-"

"No" You panted, "Just found it" A flower vase was smashed in his forehead. And that granted you freedom from his hands as you fell on the floor, gasping for air and crawling away from him.

Heavy steps echoed, trailing dangerously after you. Miguel took you by the ankle and dragged you towards him.

"No!"

He hissed and pulled you upwards, like a statuette, and slammed your torso against the desk you had been clenching onto. All air knocked out your lungs.

A hand passed over his buckle and removed in a swift motion his belt in one go. The sight of your pussy peeking underneath the ruffles of your skirt made a smile that didn't reach his eyes to appear.

He quickly got the belt around your neck, your hands instantly pried, or at least tried to pry it away, scratching yourself in the process. The smell of copper filled in the air, the vase had broke the skin of his forehead.

"You fucking ungrateful bitch!"

He secured the belt tighter and you wheezed, hands flailed to get a hold of him. Fingers already prodding and toying with your cunt, to his surprise, the struggle and fight turned you on, knowing that a man wanted you so badly that would do anything to have you, and you denying such power had you soaked.

Specially when the man in question was this 6'9" cell guard that wanted nothing but to wreck you, destroy you the way you had destroyed his fucked up illusions.

"All I did for you, everything I did meant shit for you-"

He rasped before slapping your butt with such force it stung and left a red imprint on the now reddening flesh.

"I didn't... a-ask you for shit!"

He grunted at your broken words as he pulled the makeshift leash backwards, separated your legs and pulled out his cock once more.

"There we go, baby"

"Y-You're so pathetic-"

Words died in your throat as he slid inch by inch inside. The intrusion made you sob a feeble whimper, it burned and hurt, but in a way you weren't expecting and you liked it.

"Me? Pathetic? Ay muñeca, is not me whose gonna beg me to stop" He pulled your face towards him and kissed you once more, "You won't even remember your name once I'm done with you."

He buried to the hilt as he watched your expression. Troubled yet blissful. A little grip was loosened as he felt you were about to speak again.

"You talk too much shit-."

Part of you regretted said words, cause he smashed your head in the desk and dug his fingers around your hips.

"Is that so?"

Nothing had you prepared for the assailing onslaught of his hips. Fucking was a measly word compared to what he actually was doing to your poor and snug cunt.

It wasn't slapping, his hips thwacked yours with such force you were sure your cervix would be bruised and your legs wouldn't walk properly for the next few days, but as it hurt, it felt good. Too good for your own comfort. Specially when propped a leg ontop of a stool for more leverage to ruin you deeper.

A garbled moan came out your lips, before gritting your teeth together and shaking your head vehemently. He laughed in between deep growls and moans.

"Am I dulling that spark, muñeca?"

Your body lurched forwards, pussy drenched him with every remorseless push he delivered. Eyes struggling to keep on the front, but it was unavoidable to have them rolling back as your jaw slacked open.

High pitched wails rumbled out of your gaping mouth, permeating the once silent room. Two of his fingers slid in your mouth, hot breath colliding against them. They hooked forcing your mouth to keep open.

The desk shook under your weight, the room filled in with moans so sweet and delicious, unlike the many that had been under him.

You were experiencing first hand the danger. Miguel wasn't nice, he wasn't gentle. The latter made an emphasis on its own as he pulled the belt impossibly tighter. A gurgling and rasping noise came from your throat. He wasn't squeezing anymore, he was choking you.

And Dios mio, you were sure you'd die. But dying sounded way too much of a reward than staying in this awful place.

"Yes"

You hissed in between butchered pants and wheezing mewls. Mind set in welcoming the reaper as air was still cut out of your lungs. Legs too weak to keep on their own. Dizziness fogging your mind, fire engulfing your body, Your cunt slurped him in, wetness no longer an issue since he slid and out so easily.

The only indicator you still had consciousness was the little pathetic cries you did as his hips plowed you with a new intensity you didn't know possible.

He had been whispering the filthiest things into your ear, a couple of degrading words you couldn't quite hear, too busy being cock drunk and slipping in and out of consciousness.

Your torso and arms laid in between his arms and the desk, his upper body keeping you still as his hips did the whole assault. His face too snatched in a myriad of things.

Pride cause he finally got to have you and proved you wrong, lust cause you felt just like he had imagined, anger because of your previous words. He was the one that was rawing you into oblivion, had your brain turned upside down, not Gorski, and had you cumming with such an intensity it was overwhelming and too much for your brain to digest.

Too much.

The choking had your brain's fuse in a shortcut, shutting itself off for what it felt like forever, until he spilled himself inside. Renovating your walls white.

Hot cum spurted and not a single drop was wasted as he made sure you kept it inside.

His hulking figure trembled, torn in between subtle and violent spasms that shook him to his very core and raged pants that sent a shiver down your sore spine.

He finally had you and you were his. He wasn't letting you go. Not when he was about to give you a new purpose.

Being his.

---

Everything that he thought good and right blurred. Eyes filled in with tears at your state. Gone. Gone from this world, gone from him, the spark had vanished.

No

How this happened?

His mind raked through the memories, trying to find the right moment everything went to shit.

He signed a paper. A lobotomy authorization in your behalf.

No!, no!.

"Come back" He pleaded while kissing you and squeezing his hands on the joint of your head and shoulders, to pry something out of you. But nothing came.

The spark had been lost.

And so were you.

"Please, muñeca"

He sobbed and cradled you in his arms, but there was no push, no retaliation, nothing. Only a lovely vessel of his love.

You were gone. For real.

He had been so naive to believe that fucking you senseless meant to have you. He had been such a fool to fall for such a simple thing as that.

And now he had lost you. His own hand brought his demise. Guards and Gorski dragged him out, his hand latched on to you, but even your skin felt different.

"Poppy!"

He yelled but you didn't answer. Just watched him with a look that shattered his heart.

You were free. Free and far far away.

[mossy-opal]

Work Partner?

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader x Unrequited!Chisaki Kai

Warnings: Smut Based Off A Dream I Had, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Masturbation, Cucking, (bitch boy beta cuck) Chisaki Kai, Shigaraki Having Rizz (out of character i know)

Working with you was wonderful, to say the least. You were probably the most valuable League member, and Kai got you all to himself for a few months. You were quirkless, smart, good with Eri, and you worked well with him. Sure you could get sassy, but that just made you even more endearing. Over the short month he had worked with you, he had grown fond of you...

Maybe it was a bad thing, after all he was playing a dangerous game with the League of Villains, and you were no less apart of the League than any of them. But he couldn't stop how he felt, you were damn near perfect for him. He was certain, given enough time, he could convince you to stay with the Shie Hassaikai.

After all, he had a lot of things to offer you, and you were smart. He knew you'd make the right decision when that time came.

In fact, he was on his way to visit you. You had been hard at work today, and he was going to offer you some dinner. As he walked up the hall, he noticed the door was cracked. Usually it was closed, you liked your privacy while you worked, and as he got closer, he was shocked to hear two voices.

One that wasn't supposed to be here.

"How did you even- ah- get here~?"

"Compress."

What was going on? How the hell did Shigaraki get into his base? Was he snuck in? How did Compress get him in here?

He knew he should've taken both his arms, then he'd be useless-

Kai's thought process snapped into focus when he heard you make a noise. Were you in pain? He figured he knew the answer, but curiosity got the better of him. Despite his better judgement, he had to take a look.

You were holding yourself up against your desk, Shigaraki behind you and kissing your neck, holding your hips. Your face was flushed, and you were pouting back at him.

"Tomu-"

"Shut up... Missed you..."

"I m-missed you too but- Aah, what if someone hears? You're not supposed to- Mmm- b-be here...!"

"Guess you'll just have to be quiet then~"

Kai's eyes widened at what he was seeing, before he backed up, pressing his back to the wall next to the door. This wasn't actually happening, was it? He heard the undoing of pants and your whines, and he looked down the hall, being sure no one else was present. He would burst in there right now if...

"Haa- Tomura~"

He was looking back in, barely able to see Shigaraki, more focussed on you. You were no longer holding yourself up, now practically laying on the desk, drool dribbling down your chin as your eyes were screwed shut.

"Taste so good-"

"To-Tomuraaah~ P-please stop t-teasing~"

"Mmph..."

He could only imagine what you would taste like, adjusting his pants with a silent hiss. He couldn't believe he was hard listening to this- He should burst in there and kill the both of you for such disrespect!

"W-we shouldn't- N-not here~"

"I'd love to fuck you in your bed, but I don't think you want anyone seeing me, now do you~?"

He peaked again, right on time to see Shigaraki push into you, your eyes wide, mouth agape, and hands trying to find anything to grab onto, before a hand clamped around your face.

"Ssshh... I know it feels good, but ya gotta- Aah- shut up~"

Moaning into his hand, your eyes rolled back in your head and he heard the smacking of Shigaraki's hips against yours. Your muffled moans were too good to ignore, and the pain in his groin was too.

Kai pressed himself against the wall once more looking down the hall again, before taking his dick into his hand. It was disgusting, what he was doing. He should be enraged at this display, but no, he was getting off on it. He tried to time his strokes with Shigaraki's thrusts, biting his other hand to keep his own noise down. He imagined it was him in there, it was him making you feel so good- He just knew you'd fit perfectly around him, warm and wet, just for him.

"Fuckin- Missed you so fuckin' much- Ugh- So good... Mmmm- Fuckin' love you~"

Your moaning spiked, you almost sounded like you were squealing behind his hand, before he heard you clear as day-

"I love you- F-Fuck! I looo-ooh~ve you so much~!"

Kai had to practically brace himself against the wall as he came in his fist, never having cum so hard and fast in his entire life. He was trying to catch his breath as quickly and quietly as possible.

He cleaned himself up, cursing internally at how disgusting he was, before he stormed off to his own room, intent on scrubbing himself raw to feel clean again.

•

•

•

Seeing you again the very next day was difficult for him, but he was thankful he had his mask on so you couldn't see his absolute disdain towards you.

He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up, he shouldn't have stuck around to see you like that, much less with someone like Shigaraki.

Of all people, Kai knew you deserved better than that, at the very least.

...

He should've recorded your moans for later use.

Tags: @slayersins @dabislittlesluttyprincess @dabislittlemouse @shockinglysubmissive @elias-fable

[ameliaenya707]

We Cry Together

Day one

Hours went by, the cool bathroom tile against your palms as you sat in the dark room. The soft drip of the leaky sink faucet and the gentle hum of your own thoughts fill your ears. Nothing felt real, this certainly didn’t feel real. Everything happened so fast. He….Hawks was…it hurt to think about. Emotionally sure but you could feel a splitting stress headache thump in your skull whenever you came too close to a logical conclusion.

The logical conclusion, he’s fucking psychotic.

But it just was too much.

That was the man who cooed over you after rough nights, pet your hair as he hummed you to sleep. The man who vacuumed down fried chicken like it was a sport, who sneakily stole dumplings off your plate the nights you were too lazy to cook. Every part of your body was itching. Itching to humanize him, keep him in the view you always held him. When you saw him at the store, you tried so hard to convince yourself that you were crazy. Paranoid. But he was stalking you, wasn’t he? Everything was crumbling but your breath stayed leveled, your eyes closed.

You weren’t sleeping, you couldn’t afford to. But you had heard somewhere that if you let your eyes rest and stayed still, it still rested your body enough. Probably not as much as real sleep but it was the next best thing. You didn’t know how long you’d been hunched over, trying not to focus on the sick feeling boiling in your gut. Pretty bursts of white painted across the black whenever you closed your eyes making you feel like you were spinning. When you blinked your eyes open the next time light was filtering through the cracks of the boards covering the windows.

Keys jingled as a door creaked shut just hallways down. You glanced down at your palm, red and swollen. Before you had slumped down on the floor hours before, you had scoured through drawers and accidentally sliced your palm on a shard of glass. It hurt enough to distract you from the nausea in your stomach. Your head lifts abruptly when the bathroom door opens and heavy footsteps come in. Every nerve in your body shot alive but you willed your breath down. Your eyes trained on Hawks as he crouched down to your level. His eyes looked tired…

“Watcha doin' in here baby bird, I bought brand new sheets just for you to not even sleep in the bed? Well…whatever, just glad to see you again sweet girl.”

You flinched away when his hand came up to touch your cheek and you didn’t miss the flicker of irritation behind his amber eyes. With a sigh, he rummaged through a plastic bag he had in one hand.

“I got you food, something nice and warm.” He pulled out a container of rolled omelets. The plastic cover was dripping with condensation from the hot food inside. He was crazy if he thought you would be taking anything from him. Genuinely who did he think he was?! You felt crazy because this entire situation was so ridiculous. IT FELT SO RIDICULAS. You couldn’t help but break into a manic fit of laughter because what was any of this?! It was nonsense!

The confusion etched on his face only spurred on your rage, sleep deprivation-induced laughter. Your eyes grew blurry with tears, your stomach twisting in knots as your ribs ached to their core from how hard your body shook. Your hand raised without thought before slapping right across his cheek. You felt the sting of your cut burn when your palm met his face with a force you wouldn’t have enacted if you were a smidge more lucid. If you had cared about your safety a smidge more. Laughter quickly turned into a scream when he grasped your wrist, twisting it harshly. His other hand grabs your chin and forces you to blink up at him.

“Are you done?”

You didn’t know him. That voice. Too sharp to be Hawks. TO CRUEL TO BE HIS. Everything screamed to run but you were boxed in by four walls, a tile floor, and a popcorn ceiling decorated with cobwebs.

“Y-.....yeah…”

Your soft mumble made him let go of your wrist. Something you stupidly mistook as mercy until his hand fisted in your hair, not too hard but enough of a tug to keep you silent. You saw his eyes soften as his thumb came up to brush away one of the tears slipping from your eyes. But it didn’t look like sympathy. The small smile that played on his face made it seem like a fraction of himself enjoyed seeing you so hurt and broken down.

Maybe it was the part of him that liked control. You could never claim you knew everything about him. Why he did every small thing he did. But you’d been with him long enough to see how little control he actually had over his life. There was something bigger that had him under their thumb. Maybe hurting you made him feel…more in control. But then why couldn’t the same apply to him being gentle? It used to. Didn’t it?

Tears fell harder on the bathroom floor, ones he couldn’t brush away quick enough to ignore the existence of.

“Fuck,”

More chapters

[bloodychazorite]

Q!SLIME HEADCANONS N’ SHORT STORIES!!

(These are all the headcanons I use in my current fic and will probably use for my future fics, in case you’re curious!! :))

So, first, I don’t think Charlie is any bit human at all. I think he’s full, pure-bred slime with a Core that gives him sentience. The Core is a heart shaped, made of enchanted ruby and plated in gold around the edges. 

During the time he was a God in the SCU (Slimecicle Cinematic Universe) he had three (That’s an incredibly long story that I may actually write one day so this is all you get for now). Now, he’s been reincarnated with one, sentient ever since. However, he’s full slime, nothing human about him. Without the Core, he’d just be straight slime. He’s probably one of the—if not just the only—sentient Slimes there is.

His skin scars because when he’s hurt enough, he needs to get more slime to repair himself. The slime isn’t his, however, so it doesn’t match his body completely for a while while it blends together.

Another type of scarring that can happen to him would be dehydration cracks. If he loses enough water, his slime will crack in a lightning-strike type pattern. It takes a while for those to go away as well, just because they need time to fill in.

Yes, he has bones, but he doesn’t need them. He has them because they make it so that he can keep his shape. When he was Gegg, he’d keep some but give the rest to Quackity for safe keeping.

 

“Where’s my left arm?” Charlie asked, digging through the bag Quackity kept on him.

The other only shuffled his foot back and forth, mumbling gently. He bit his lip as he spoke. “I needed food, man.”

“So?”

“So all I had was seeds and currently unused bones.”

A beat of silence, before a slow, creaking head turn. 

“You used my bones for bone meal.” His voice was flat and his lips were pinched. “Are you deadass?”

“Just kill another skeleton man! I needed food!”

Charlie threw up the melty stub where his left arm should’ve been, waving it back and forth and dripping goo all over the ground.

“Do you know how fucking hard it is to find intact skeletons that will fit perfectly with the one that I currently have?! And that have five fingers?!”

Quackity rolled his eyes, shrinking in on himself. “Uh...No..?”

Charlie smushed slime into his face and laughed at his dramatic screaming. “It is incredibly fucking hard!”

Charlie keeps bones on him most of the time, in case he breaks the ones he’s got. Sometimes they take a minute to get used to, some of them too big or too long or too small, but it happens nonetheless. It’s also the reason he takes any fall damage ever. Without the bones, he wouldn’t take any fall damage. Those bones also determine his general height. If he wanted to be taller, he could find/construct a taller skeleton and get more slime.

Slimes are naturally acidic at a certain level at all times. However, with prompting, his level of acidity will rise. Prompting can look like danger, or threats. It can also be emotional, with extreme rage or sadness, the works.

“Oh no, not today fucker!” Mariana screamed as Slime tried to step outside during another argument. His skin dripped from the agitation but Mariana couldn’t care less.

Slime attempted to brush past him, breath heavy. “I’ll be right back,” He mumbled, "I need to go.”  

He stepped to the left, Mariana doing the same. 

Then, to the right, where she followed once again.

“Move your ass, I need to go now.”

“Hell no, you will stay and we will talk this out.”

Slime shoved past her, briskly rushing for the door. Mariana, wings twitching in agitation, whipped around and grabbed his wrist.

He smelled the burning before he felt it.

Before the white, lava hot seer hit his senses.

She nearly cried out in pain, staggering backward and scraping her skin against the hardwood as she fell. Scrambling into the wall, she groaned in agony and grasped the wrist of the suffering palm.

“Fuck- oh, fuck!” 

Slime was right in front of him, suddenly, knelt with fear in his eyes. “Fuck, I am so sorry, I can’t control it I swear, I would never do that shit on purpose—” He rambled as Mariana writhed, swearing in shock and pain.

Her vision swam as she sobbed. 

“I swear, I-I can’t… control it.”

He’s burnt a few holes in the floors before.

All in his slime, there are acid glands everywhere. 

Because he’s got acid literally built into his system, the bones he’s got tend to break down after a while. Depending on how emotional or just how much he purposely activates his acid secretion, they could last from anywhere around two weeks to a month, usually. That’s what the skeleton in his basement is for, an extra set of bones. 

Slime’s are the closest things to aquatic creatures without actually being aquatic. Being naturally drawn and attracted to moist environments, he can’t breathe underwater, but he doesn’t actually need to breathe so I guess it doesn’t matter. When swimming, he creates fins to help. The only reason he drowns is because he takes in too much water and becomes so liquidy that he just… dies, I dunno LMAOO

Being generally docile creatures, living either underground or in swamps, most Slimes have shit eyesight. They mostly rely on vibrations in the ground and auditory sensory input. Great hearing, terrible sight. Slimes are also ambush predators! They’re slow, but they’ll eat anything. If looking for meat, they’ll hide under the soil and wait for the vibrations of something with four legs. 

“And where’s Charlie? I wanted to talk to him.” Phil asked as he stepped outside. “He said he’d be here.”

Roier, Cellbit, and himself had all been in Mariana’s house for a while now—Phil being there under the assumption that Charlie would be there. 

Mariana shrugged and glanced around. “Ehh, somewhere.”

Then Juanaflippa sprinted forward and stopped on the open ground, jumping up and down. Her tiny feet pattered the ground as she skipped in circles around the open area. Bobby tilted his head in response before Richas yanked him towards the 

Phil looked to Mariana for a look of mild amusement to say it was normal, or a look of confusion to make him feel like he wasn’t going insane because—even for Flippa—this wasn’t exactly typical from his perspective.

To Phil’s surprise, however, he stepped a bit forward and began to rhythmically tap his heel against the soil. 

“Fuck-!” His heart found itself in his feet as something squeezed tight around his ankle, holding firm as he jumped away. He grabbed for a weapon as a light green hand pulled further from the ground.

A wrist, an arm, a… a goo monster.

A goo monster holding a suspiciously familiar pair of glasses.

“...Charlie?!”

His body tied itself back together, becoming more and more recognizable. They stared at each other for a minute.

“I swear I was aiming for Roier.”

Charlie, because of the core, has much better morphing and shape shifting abilities than normal Slimes. With enough observation he could literally be anyone. He’d looked at Juanaflippa so much that his Gegg looked a bit like her. The people he spends a lot of time looking at are the people he can most easily imitate.

“So you can just look… however you want?” Fit asked 

“Uh-huh.” Slime replied offhandedly, focusing on the little craft they were working on for Richas’s half birthday.

Neither of them had ever heard of a half birthday before then.

“Without effort? You don’t even have to like… try?” 

Sue him, Fit was incredibly curious. Sentient Slimes just didn’t exist, Slime was the only one he knew and would probably ever know.

He became even more curious (and slightly defensive) as Slime began to stare at him, an expression of scrutiny behind his gaze.

Then, a familiar lopsided grin and covered his face for a minute. A sloppy squishing sound resounded from behind his hands that made Fit wince.

The taller gasped as Slime’s face became uncovered.

Fit’s own face stared back at him, with only a few uncanny details astray.

“Christ, Slime! You just keep that ability all to yourself? Do you know how much trouble you could cause with that?!” He all but yelled.

Slime laughed, shifting his face back to its normal appearance. He winked before turning his head back to the project.

“Who’s to say I haven’t caused any trouble?”

Fit—from that day on—lived in fear of the people the Slime could be.

Charlie is all types of temperature sensitive. It's crazy.

Too hot, he’ll get all melty and struggle to hold his form. Leave his bones behind him and become a puddle.

 Too dry, he’ll dehydrate and crack up. It’s incredibly painful, which is why slimes tend to stick around damp, humid areas.

 Too cold, he’ll freeze, becoming a literal Slimecicle. Just like hypothermia, his fingertips, toes, and nose will turn a shade of blue first, eventually infecting the rest of his body. Also hella painful.

A good tactic if you really wanted to torture a Slime, stick them in the cold. They wouldn’t be able to stretch or morph after a while, it'll hurt like hell, and you get to decide how bad it is. GOOD STUFF

A 60 to humid 70 degrees Fahrenheit is generally ideal. The island tends to run a bit higher than that, but it’s not too extreme of a shift so he’s generally okay with some extra water.

Haha, he picked Eggxile in a place that was out of his comfort zone, just cause he knew he didn’t deserve comfort. He sent himself to a place that was too hot and too dry for a Slime. That's fun.

Uhh, that’s really all I can think of for right now, but I’ll repost this anytime I add to it :DD If you’ve got any headcanons you wanna talk about or you wanna talk about mine, please do!! I’ll literally talk for hours, you have no idea

LOVE YOU BYEE <33

[iamthecomet]

comet....that video of swiss on his knees in front of rora....how she could stand over him and his face would be at the perfect height to....to....im begging you please let these two run wild in your brain and spit out filth about it we need more ghoul/ghoulette action

Hhhhhhh THEMMM ♡♡.

Aurora digs her heel of her boot into the space next to Swiss' spine. She hopes it bruises. Hopes he wears evidence of her for days.

Her other foot is barely on the ground, just her toes. Swiss, is holding most of her weight. Hands pressed against the small of her back. She leans her shoulders against the wall of the bathroom stall as Swiss sinks his teeth into her thigh.

He has his head tucked up under her skirt, the pleated fabric hiding his expression from her. It's a shame. She likes to see him like this. Flushed. Debased for her. Desperate but determined. His knees are spread. If she tips her head just enough she can see how hard he is, straining against the front of his jeans. A dark spot forming. One he won't be able to hide when they go back into the bar and rejoin their pack.

Swiss shifts. Mouths at her through her panties, and Aurora stops thinking coherently. His mouth is so hot. He licks a flat stripe up over the already soaked fabric and hums at the taste of her.

He sucks on her clit through the fabric and her head cracks against the wall.

"Easy," he whispers, turning his head to nip at her thigh. He shifts, taking her weight onto one broad hand and dragging the other down over the swell of her ass and between her legs to pull her panties aside. "You don't want to get caught, do you?"

She's about to answer, she swears it. But then his mouth is really on her. Tongue flicking out over her swollen clit just for a second before he sucks one of her lips into his mouth. The only noise she manages to make is a broken whine. She digs her boot in harder like she's trying to pull him closer.

"Rora--" he warns, not seriously. Aurora knows he gets off on it. That he'd probably cream his pants if someone walked in right now. It's part of the reason he told her she didn't have to wait for him to take care of her.

He slips one finger into her. Starts a slow rhythm that she rocks against. He fits his lips over her clit, alternates between firm sucks and kitten licks that make her see stars. He works her up, it's always a slow build. Like he's savoring her. Her thigh shakes on his shoulder. The knee she has most of her weight on threatens to buckle and she couldn't care less.

She knows he'll catch her.

She rolls her hips over his mouth. His face. Takes matters into her own hands when he doesn't give her what she wants fast enough. He busies himself with tasting her and she grinds her clit over the ridge of his nose.

She puts one hand on the back of his head through her skirt as if to hold him in place. Grinding hard, chasing her high as he slips another finger inside and pets at her inner walls in a way that makes her keen.

She can't help it. She hears the sound echo through the bathroom, knows how fucked up she sounds. She can't be bothered to care. Not when she's almost there not when all he needs to do is latch his mouth back on her clit and she'll be gone.

The door opens as she inhales. There's footsteps. Aurora bites the inside of her cheek and tries not to whine, not to breathe too loudly. Swiss stops, pauses. Finger halfway out of her, tongue pressed against the underside of her clit.

"No," she hisses, desperate, feels the jagged beginnings of her orgasm start to fade, "don't stop. Don't you fucking dare."

She doesn't need to see Swiss to know he's grinning against her. She can feel it. He drags his tongue over her, sucks her clit back into her mouth, slips his fingers back in, and the pleasure comes rushing back like it never left.

Someone closes the stall door next to them. Aurora can't be fucked to care. She can only think about Swiss' mouth. His fingers working inside of her. Her gut punched breaths and the wet sound of Swiss finger-fucking her have definitely given them away by now. But why should she care? It's not her problem that this person decided to take a leak right next to them.

She brings her free hand up to her mouth as her orgasm builds, crashes over her. She bites down on her fingers until she tastes blood as Swiss gentles her through it. Supporting her weight, dragging his tongue over her clit, fingers still pumping in and out of her as she shudders and whines under her breath.

She hauls in a deep breath as Swiss puts her back on her feet and rights her skirt for her. Smoothing out wrinkles. He pulls her in for a kiss that's chaste considering what he just did to her. She holds him close, stroking her fingers through his curls as she smiles against his mouth.

There’s a rustle of movement in the stall next to them. The toilet flushes. The sink runs. It feels like an eternity before the bathroom door closes again and Aurora dissolves into laughter in Swiss’ arms.

When he kisses her this time it’s anything but chaste, tongue delving deep into her mouth, making sure she tastes herself.

“You ready to go back?” he asks her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“In a minute.” She slips from his arms, knees hitting the tile floor as she reaches for his belt. “Can I return the favor first?”

“You’re trying to get caught.”

“And? Is that a problem?”

Swiss grins down at her, fingers digging into her hair. Breath hitching as she mouths over the tent in his jeans. “No,” he shakes his head. “Not at all.” 

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

@whumpbump Okay I know you probably meant Whumper pushing Whumpee down the stairs but I couldn't resist my love for stairwells and chase scenes so --

--

You slammed your shoulder into the metal door, crying out in frustration when it didn't immediately give to your frantic pounding. The alcohol in your veins still dulled your coordination, making it all the more difficult to pry open the entry down to the stairs. There was no time to wait for the elevator. No time to wait for the cops that surely had to have been called by now from someone else on this floor, at least to file a noise complaint against those rowdy, drunk kids making a ruckus all night.

"Open, open," you begged into the air. You rammed against the metal again and again, each hit making your shoulder throb, the last one threatening to dislocate the joint if you abused it much long. "Fucking open!"

The weight on the other side finally gave way, allowing you to shove the blockage just enough to slip through the gap. You prayed your pursuer wouldn't be able to fit in the narrow opening, though you doubted he'd have much trouble fully slamming the stuck door wide open. Betraying your moment of reprieve, you dared to look back and gauge the distance between yourself and the stalker, kept safe only by a doorway and several flights of stairs.

Instead, what you saw was the body of the building's janitor hastily shoved between the wall and door. Blood drenched the entire front of his uniform, his head angled down to hide the near decapitation of his neck. Instantly, your hands flew to your mouth to catch the scream clawing up your throat, or perhaps the stifle the gag that risked you vomiting on a poor man's already desecrated corpse. You stumbled backwards in an attempt to get away from yet another victim of a psychopath.

Perhaps that wasn't your best move on such a narrow landing. The concrete had become slick from the cooling pools of blood that lazily spread out and dripped to the stairs below. You felt your heel catch on the lip of the step, causing you to stumble, but the sudden shift in your weight made your foot slip in viscera and send you careening backwards. Another yelp was muffled in your chest, the air in your lungs being stolen before you could utter a sound.

The concrete steps were unforgiving in their beating. Sharp angles dug into all the tender spots of your flesh as you landed on each one, rolling from your back to your side and back again. Your knees and elbows sent tingling pains through every limb as the nerve was struck. No matter how desperately you threw out your hands to catch something, they would always instinctively pull back and try to protect your head from being split open. They didn't do much good when your chin smacked against the edge of a step, making your teeth painfully crack together and slicing your lower lip on an incisor.

The taste of blood was hot and bitter in your mouth, welling up in the back of your throat like bile. As much as you wanted to spit it out, another hit to your stomach left you wheezing, trying to suck in air that refused to stay down. Your world was a dizzying view of white stained walls and grey concrete, spinning round and doubling in vision with each bump to the head and chest you endured. When you finally came to a sprawling stop at the bottom of the story, it took a moment for your surrounds to cease their moving as well.

Finally, you coughed, pulling yourself onto your side so that you didn't choke on the globs of blood that splattered by your cheek. A sharp ringing deafened you, helping to dull the pain that pulsated through your body in tandem with your heartbeats. The relief didn't last long, agony instantly flaring in every muscle when you tried to roll onto your stomach in a foolish attempt to crawl onto your knees. One sharp ache in your hip refused to settle into a throb like all the others. With clumsy hands, you felt around the area until you brushed against a hard, jagged piece of glass that been impaled deep into the tissue. You pressed your other hand onto the ground in an effort to gain so leverage, only to yank it back with a hiss. More glass shards, thankfully smaller, had been imbedded in your palm. Litter that the janitor had probably been in the midst of picking up.

Despite being able to breathe now, as labored as it was, the only sounds you could muster were whimpers for help. The sound was pathetic and keening; you knew no one would be able to hear them, let alone think to check the stairwell for an injured tenant on the run from a madman. You couldn't stop, you had to keep going, you had to get away and warn everyone and find refuge. You had to survive.

But luck was not on your side, as evident by the splotches of red and purple on almost every inch of skin. From above, you heard two heavy bangs against solid metal following the sound of something dropping on the floor. The reverb in the stairwell made your throbbing headache scream louder, screwing your eyes close to ward off any tears that risked blurring your vision worse than what it already was. When you opened them again, you could see the janitor's head peaking between the railing his body having been toppled over onto his side. Thick streams of coagulated blood dripped to the landing below, mere inches from your nose.

You were more concerned by the looming figure that observed you over the same railing. Unbothered by the body he had shoved out of the way, he tilted his head with faux fascination at the sight of you sprawled on the ground and struggling to move. There was no telling what kind of sadistic joy was hidden behind the gaping black eyeholes of the madman's mask, or perhaps he was disappointed that his prey had taken the fun of the chase away due to their own incompetence. A shot of adrenaline kickstarted your heart into overdrive, worsening the pain that beat from your skull to your feet.

There was no time to recover any longer. The man begin to descend the stairs one leisurely step at a time, letting the stomp of his boots echo like a warning siren as he grew closer. You both knew there was no need to hurry, it wasn't like you'd be going anywhere any time soon, enough so that the knife was sheathed back into the pocket on his thigh. Every fiber of your being urged you to flee, anything to save yourself from a miserable death that probably wouldn't even be remembered in the stalker's kill count. As much as you would have loved to scramble up and sprint down the remaining five staircases, then best you could muster was an agonizing crawl towards the next flight of stairs.

You hoped gravity would be kind and swift carrying you down on your belly to the lower levels. It couldn't be any worse than what you were sure to experience otherwise.

[woso-fan13]

14. ‘I Might Be A Teeny Tiny Bit Sick, But It’s Fine.’

You’re currently having an extreme battle of wills with Mal. The two of you stand on opposite sides of your hotel room, staring at each other. Nobody dares to look away first. 

Finally, Mal sighs and breaks eye contact. 

“Y/N/N, this is ridiculous. You’re not going to practice.”

“Mal, I told you that I am perfectly fine. There’s no reason for me not to go to practice.”

“You were wheezing in your sleep, is that not enough of a reason? I was literally up half of the night listening to you so you didn’t stop breathing.” 

“You’re just making that up,” you argue back, “you must be. I’m standing here, totally fine.” 

Your body betrays you at this moment though. Before Mal could respond to your argument, you surrender to a coughing fit. Your chest heaves as your body tries to rid itself of a lung, your face turning red from effort. Mal takes pity on you, grabbing a cool water bottle from the fridge, cracking it open before she gently hands it to you. You gratefully take it, trying to sip it in between coughs. Once you manage to calm your lungs, you allow yourself a few full mouthfuls of water to soothe your throat. 

“Still think you’re totally fine?” Mal asks, an eyebrow raised. 

You simply glare back at her. 

“Buddy, you don’t have to be fine,” she tries to reassure you, “it’s okay to be sick. Why don’t you just stay at the hotel and get some rest? I’ll tell the coaches that you’ll be missing practice.”

“I might be a teeny tiny bit sick, but it’s fine. I caught some bug going around the team last week. Everyone managed to get over it in a few days, I just can’t kick this cough.”

Mal makes a sympathetic noise, “I’m sorry. But you know that your lungs aren’t quite right, sometimes they need a little extra time to recover. Give them a chance to fix themselves.”

“I know, I just want it to be over with. I hate practicing like this, especially at camp.”

“You can skip today, nobody would think less of you. I’m sure they’ve been able to hear your coughing through the walls, I doubt anyone would be surprised if you didn’t feel up to practice.”

“You know I’m going to go, I’m not missing this.”

Mal laughs, “I know. I figured it was worth a shot to convince you to sit out. I’ll need you to promise the older girls that I tried to make you stay back. Kay?”

“Yes ma’am, that’s a deal.”

“Make sure you pack your inhaler and actually use it. And tell me if your chest gets tight. And show some restraint, please.”

You nod, quickly grabbing your bag and heading towards the door. You were ready to practice and you didn’t want to be late. You’re about to reach for the knob when a voice stops you. 

“Y/N?” Mal asks. 

You turn around, a questioning look on your face. 

“Forget something? Something important.”

You quickly dig through your bag, realizing what you’re missing. You look up just in time to see Mal grabbing your inhaler off of the nightstand and wiggling it at you. 

“Sorry Mal,” you apologize, “I thought it was in my bag already. I promise.”

She tosses it to you and you quickly shove it into the correct pocket of your bag. 

“That’s probably my fault actually. Your breathing really freaked me out last night, I put your inhaler next to you just in case you needed to use it.”

You smile, genuinely touched by how kind your teammates are. “Thanks Mal!”

She picks up her own bag, meeting you by the door. Throwing an arm around your shoulder, she opens the door and the two of you begin heading to the elevator. 

“You know, it’s so hard being a single mother, especially a single mother to a medically complex kid. You’ll never understand how much I do for you,” she teases you, smiling slightly when you laugh. 

Laughing was good. Laughing meant that, not only were you in a good mood, but that you had enough air in your lungs to show the good mood. 

“Mal, you’re like 6 years older than me on a good day, you’re definitely not my mother. Also, you're almost married, so not single either. It’s sounding to me like you’ve got a pretty easy life, maybe I should spice it up.”

You wiggle your eyebrows at the last sentence. Or, more accurately, you attempted to wiggle your eyebrows and failed miserably. Mal bursts into laughter at your attempt and you feign a look of shock at her reaction. 

“Come on. We need to go show everyone how you do that before practice.”

With that, she bypasses the extremely slow elevator and begins pulling you down the stairs. 

[the-belle-siblings]

Caden feels his hand tremor as he reaches for the handle of the front door. He could hear his heart thumping in his ears and could feel his skin crawling. He swallows hard and twists the door knob cracking open the entrance. He peaks inside and sure enough right in front of him on the floor was Ivan, a part of his mind was screaming for him to run.

🗿Are you trying to air condition the entire neighborhood? *He picks up Milktoast, cradling her in his arms like a baby*

🗿Get in here so I can talk to you.

O- oh yeah- okay- Hi

Caden walks in and shuts the door behind him feeling his heart in his throat, his lungs beginning to tighten. If he wasn't so damn nervous right now he'd be smiling and giggling about the way Ivan was holding the cat.

🗿I'm not good with feelings.

I know I'm sorry...

🗿Shut up for a second, okay? I just... I'm not good with words. *His words sounded unnaturally sweet for some reason. It made him want to bury himself alive.*

Okay, sorr–

🗿I don't want to hear another apology out of your mouth! *Aggression laced his words habitually as he pulled out the poem out of his pocket.*

Ivan please- I don't think I want to hear it anymore-

Caden could feel his anxiety spiking as he looked at that sheet of paper. He had ruined everything between them. He killed it. He killed it with poetry. He folded his arms to hide his shaking hands. He felt like he was about to get sick. Caden was barely suppressing an upcoming coughing fit.

🗿For the past few months I've felt like I despised you, there was some sort of uncomfortable squirming feeling in my chest when you were near and now I know why...

Isn't this- Isn't this a little much-? Gods...

The rejection was striking him deep to his core, he couldn't stop shaking. Why? Why? Had he really believed there was hope?

🗿I'd say it's probably too little.... This poem is...

Please Ivan, I can't stand to hear in detail how much you despise me...

🗿What? I was trying to- *He thinks over what he just said and the tones he was using. He hadn't realized how awful he really was with words. He set Milktoast down quickly and shoos her off. The cat, although confused, complied and skittered off.*

🗿Oh no- no no no- Caden, I- that's not what I'm saying- I'm trying to say that I- *He waves his hands around a little, he never thought he'd really have to confess this to anyone, even when he was a kid.*

I'll just... I'll go, I get the point... I'm sorry...

He stares down at the floor his vision blurring. He coughs just a little bit. The weight in his lungs felt heavy, his throat itched for relief. He backs away towards the door.

🗿*He grabs Caden's hand* No! You don't get the point! I lo- I- I lo-

🗿*He grunts in frustration, his cheeks flushed red, he felt so stupid. This feeling was so embarrassing for some reason, he had never honestly felt this way before. Being in love felt foolish, it's just a soft spot to be exploited and yet... he never desired anything more, no not even world domination. Caden was something most precious to him in a way nothing else could compare.*

🗿You are my weakness, Caden.... I want you more than anything... let me have you, please?

Caden felt like he was kneed in the stomach, all the air was sucked out of him in one moment. He had emotional whiplash from the complete 180 his brain just did.

That's a funny way of asking me to be your–

🗿Don't tease me right now! *Ivan demanded but only because he felt like he might actually shed tears currently.*

🗿....but uhm... please..? *He added feeling a little bit shy for once in his life.*

🗿I uhm... I really do love you, Caden.... *He practically whispers, unable to look him in the eyes. He begins to gently release Caden from his grasp.*

I lo–

Caden the felt like something was seriously wrong with his body, he couldn't breathe. The flowers in his lungs were dying off and desperate to escape the fleshy walls of his body. He tries to wheeze or cough or anything, he just fucking can't.

🗿Caden? Caden?! Ah fuck, I've killed him.

He starts pounding on his chest, trying to clear his airway somehow. Although he couldn't necessarily die, not breathing didn't feel too good.

🗿*Ivan quickly yanks Caden forward and positions himself to do the heimlich maneuver on him. He follows through the process of abdominal thrusts and back blows until Caden starts spitting up wilted petals.*

The second he can cough again Caden is hacking to the point of wheezing. Petal after petal, flower after flower, stems, roots, all of it racing to leave his lungs.

🗿There we go... *He stands there with him, gently rubbing his back.* It's alright, it's alright....

After some time, Caden can breathe again, everything feels so much lighter. He sucks in air the moment he can. Caden stumbles around a little bit, feeling light headed. He steps back into Ivan and looks up at him and just smiles.

As I was saying...

Caden starts, his voice sore and raspy from coughing so hard.

I love you, Ivan, and there's nothing in the world I'd rather be than your romantic partner.

🗿*Ivan just smiles, unapologetically smiles, and then kisses him on the forehead.*

🗿Then... you shall be what you desire, hm? *He tells him softly before lifting Caden's heavy ass off the ground and begins to carry him off to his room, stepping awkwardly over the mess of dead flowers and Caden's life juice.*

Oh-? Already?

Caden questions as he watches Ivan jiggle open his bedroom while trying to keep Caden supported in his arms.

🗿Already what? You've been in here dozens of times. *Ivan manages to open the bedroom door and walk over to his bed before dropping Caden down onto the mattress.*

🗿Don't move - that is if you even have the energy to - I'm going to clean up all those flowers and whatever... I will be back with snacks for you and when I return you can use me as a pillow like usual.

Caden felt his toothy grin grow wider. The idea of the unmentionable 'it' hadn't even crossed Ivan's mind. It honestly put him at ease. His heart swelled with affection, Ivan just wanted to take care of him. If he weren't so exhausted he'd pull his boyfriend (He could call him that now!) into a crushing hug.

Sounds great

🗿I'm great

You are

🗿*He laughs just a little and strokes a hand through Caden's hair.* I'll be right back, kay?

Kay!

🗿*Ivan walks off and as he's about to shut the door he stops and peaks his head back in* Love you!

Love you more!

🗿Nope! Can't! *Ivan then shuts the door and goes back to mop up where Caden emptied his lungs out.*

Caden just kinda giggles to himself and hugs a nearby pillow, he was absolutely exhausted but he was satisfied and happy in a way he had probably never felt. He felt like he was getting the happily ever after he had desired for so long. Things were looking up and he was genuinely excited to see what the future held for both of them.

[clarepreed]

Late Night at the Office

Short Story Summary and Content: 5,930 words, female victim, choking and on-site resuscitation.

--

Larissa

Larissa glanced at the clock. Two AM. She should have gone home hours ago. At this rate, she would have to wear her emergency suit to her morning presentation and hope there was ice in the kitchen to calm her swollen eyelids. Sighing, Larissa dragged her long, honey blonde hair into a messy bun, rubbed her hands over her eyes, and made herself take a deep breath before she surveyed the room.

She had the SMART board ready, as well as the easel and chart paper. There were marketing materials, demo items, and giveaways arranged artfully on the conference table. She had her pitch memorized. 

She had this.

The only reason she was nervous, or at least as far as she could determine, was because this was her first solo pitch with such an important client. Sure, her CEO would be there, but he wasn’t participating in the presentation. It was all on her, and she was pretty sure that if she did well and bagged the client, there was a promotion forthcoming. A promotion that included her own assistant, which would mean no more early morning meeting prep. And more sleep, maybe even time to go to the gym. 

She ran her hands down the sides of her body, feeling the new curves she’d accumulated over the past year. She’d had to buy an entirely new wardrobe. A wardrobe she now realized did not include her emergency suit.

“Dammit,” she muttered. Then she pulled herself together and shook her head. “It’s alright. I think I can get out of here within the hour.”

The office was silent. Security had locked up, verified with her that she was staying late, and then retired to the office with the camera monitors. She thought someone had been in and out around ten, but she hadn’t heard or seen anything since. Granted, she hadn’t left the conference room since she had to pee at midnight.

The weather was bad; she’d heard rain hammering the side of the building when she’d gone to the bathroom. She’d assumed if she stayed late enough the storm would pass and she’d have an easier time of it when she left the office. 

Her stomach rumbled, interrupting her thoughts. She hadn’t eaten dinner, and all she had in the conference room was a bowl of hard candy.

Larissa padded around the big table in her bare feet and plucked a bright red disc-shaped candy from the bowl. They were all bright red, so she brought the wrapped candy to her nose and sniffed while she looked idly up and down the table. Cinnamon, she thought. Not her favorite, but it would do. Maybe it would settle her stomach, which was roiling with nerves.

She unwrapped the candy and padded back over to one of the trash cans, dropping the wrapper inside as she popped the candy into her mouth. 

Then she was back at the table, resisting the urge to crunch the sweet disc as she went around and changed the position of the boxes of branded fountain pens. Her mouth was watering as her digestive system begged for more calories. She was probably going to have to stop for something on her way home, if anything was open.

Thunder cracked, barely audible in the conference room but enough to rattle the exterior windows, drawing her attention. She straightened, turning her head sharply to look for the source of the noise. As she moved, she inhaled and immediately started coughing, the cinnamon-flavored saliva hitting the back of her throat and inducing a fit. She coughed into her elbow, surprised by the ferocity of the coughing jag and growing lightheaded from want of air. She sucked in a breath, careless of the positioning of the candy, which she then sucked down into her airway, blocking it.

The panic was immediate. Her arms flailed out, one hitting the transparent walls of the conference room, the other knocking into the monitor on the presentation desk in the corner. She tried to cough, couldn’t. Pounded on her chest with a closed fist, leaning over the trash can. Jammed her fingers into her mouth, trying to grasp the candy and pull it free. She could feel her heart pounding in her ears, and it felt like her entire face was bulging. Her abdomen and chest muscles were working futilely, trying to draw breath into her panicking body. 

Desperate, she shoved her fist into her stomach, just above her navel. This proved useless, and she staggered forward, painfully shoving herself into the corner of the conference table.

Her limbs were already beginning to feel numb, a gray fog interspersed with flashing lights slipping over her eyes.

Security, she thought.

There wasn’t a phone in the conference room, but she knew one of the secretaries nearby took calls for that space, posted close to the door in case the occupants needed anything.

She slammed the conference room door open, reeling, headed in the wrong direction. She’d forgotten there were doors on both ends of the conference space, and she’d gone out the back corner instead of the front entrance.

Disoriented, she staggered into a wall, knocking a framed piece of art to the floor. The frame cracked and the glass shattered, and she hardly felt it when the glass sliced into her foot. Another set of motion detecting lights clicked on as she knocked into the opposing wall.

She tried the door of the first office, but it was locked.

Her knees gave out, and she landed hard on her chest. She felt the used up air in her lungs try to force its way out, but the candy didn’t budge. Her hands clawed at her throat, at the floor, and she managed to roll onto her back just as her vision blacked out.

“What the fuck?!” She heard a man’s voice, though it sounded like he spoke at the end of a long tunnel. She felt someone grip her arms, hard, and pull her hands away from her neck.

Then she was gone.

Mitchell

He was sleeping in his office, something he’d sworn to his mother he’d never do.

Granted, it was a nice place to sleep. The sofa was comfortable, the room temperature optimal, and he had a blanket. Even better, he had a small closet for clothing and access to the executive facilities, which included a private kitchen, small gym, and showers. 

He’d been out on a date after his normal working hours. A rainy date with someone much too young that had gone very poorly. After loading his date up in an Uber and getting thoroughly soaked in the process, Mitchell decided to swing by the office to wrap up a few loose ends. Then he’d gotten a flood alert and decided trying to drive home in the rain was a bad idea.

He dozed off at ten, woke up around one-thirty, and was unable to fall back to sleep. He got up instead and puttered around on his computer, thinking about his disastrous date, the highlight of which was when the young man got drunk, harassed the wait staff, and tried to put it all (including Mitchell’s face) on Instagram. Or TikTok. He wasn’t sure.

“No more dates under thirty-five,” he muttered to himself. “Men or women.”

A half hour passed, and he was thinking about laying back down on the couch when he heard a crash and breaking glass just down the hall.

He reached automatically for the phone to call security but decided against it. He seriously doubted there was an intruder; chances were that one of his executives was coming in from a night on the town and didn’t expect anyone to be there. This sort of behavior wasn’t exactly encouraged, but considering the weather Mitchell was willing to overlook minor indiscretions.

He thought about ignoring the sound, but he decided he’d better check it out. His Chief Revenue Officer tended toward alcoholism and had already injured himself once this year; he’d feel guilty if James needed help and he slept through it. He hoped it wasn’t James, he thought the treatment the company had paid for had been going well.

Mitchel left his office, walking through his secretary’s space in his socked feet. When he opened the door, he noticed the lights were already on. Several doors down, to the left, he saw a picture on the floor and a woman lying next to it, her hands clawing at her throat as her back bowed and her bare feet kicked listlessly against the nearby baseboard. There was a spattering of blood trailing down the hall from the picture to her body, even smeared on the wall, coming from an apparent wound in her foot.

His mouth fell open, and his brain took several seconds to interpret what he was seeing.

“What the fuck?!” he exclaimed, before darting forward and dropping to his knees next to her.

Larissa, he thought, though she was barely recognizable. Larissa Colton, Marketing. He was supposed to be observing her presentation in the morning. Instead, she looked in dire straits, fingers digging bloody tracks in the delicate skin of her throat. 

Instinctively, he grabbed her forearms and wrenched them back. At the same time, her body went limp, head tipping to the side, her wide, light-colored eyes staring at the wall. Mitchell hovered there, her arms still in his grip, uncertain as to what had just happened. A few more seconds passed, and then he let her arms drop, reaching down instead to grasp her face in his hands.

“Larissa!” He called out. The shock was fading, replaced quickly by fear. The woman’s face was a dark, purplish red. He was fairly certain this was her, though the picture in his mind was of an attractive woman with a curvaceous figure, something he was never supposed to admit he’d noticed. Now, her bulging eyes and purple skin looked horrifying. Drool spilled over her chin, and her nails had clawed bloody marks down her neck and across her chest. She was dressed only in a camisole and pencil skirt, and he could see smudges of blood down the front of her shirt. “Larissa?”

Mitchell required everyone in the office to be certified annually for CPR, AED, and First Aid. His own father had been saved by a coworker who knew how to use an AED and gone on to live another two years. But Mitchell had been fortunate enough to never need to use any of that training.

Now, he put one hand on Larissa’s forehead and the other on her chin, tilting her head back and lowering his ear over her mouth.

She smelled like sugar and artificial cinnamon, an odd combination for a woman who looked that unwell and evidently wasn’t breathing.

“Fuck!” he blurted. He scrambled to his feet and bolted back to his office, nearly wiping out in his socked feet. He ran inside and grabbed his cell phone before rushing back out, stopping at his secretary’s desk to hit the panic button. Then he skated back down the hall to Larissa’s lifeless body. She lay on her back, staring at the wall, looking even worse than she had a couple of minutes prior. He knew better, but he was disappointed that she hadn’t miraculously started breathing while he was gone. 

He dropped beside her, dialed 9-1-1 and put the phone on speaker before setting it next to him. He could hear the line ringing and leaned over her. He didn’t think he’d been this scared… ever, really. He felt his hands shake.

You are not where you are in life because you panic under pressure, he told himself, quickly running through what he remembered from CPR class.

He clasped his hands together and pressed the heel between her breasts, rocking his shoulders over his hands. Then he pushed down, hard, remembering he was aiming for a two-inch depth. 

Crushing a person’s ribcage down toward their spine was unpleasant, and he made an involuntary noise in his throat as he thought about the damage he was doing. He concentrated instead on coming up and down quickly, that god-awful disco song running through his mind as he performed compressions. Her ribcage did not feel at all like a CPR mannequin. For one, her skin was still warm. And a CPR mannequin didn’t creak and crackle when you compressed it. 

“…thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…” Was he supposed to count?

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“…eighteen, nineteen…” He continued to compress Larissa’s chest as he replied: “My employee, she’s not breathing! I’ve started CPR!”

“What’s your address?”

He rattled off the address and floor number, managing to only stammer once. His eyes couldn’t stop roving up and down Larissa’s body as he worked. Her feet were rocking, shoulders popping, head wobbling on her neck. Eyes staring. Then he gave the operator his cell phone number. By now he’d lost count of compressions, so he just kept on, pressing hard and fast. He wondered where the hell security was.

“What’s your name, sir?”

“Mitchell Anders,” he gasped out. Logically, he knew they were already dispatching help, but he wanted to tell the man to hurry the fuck up.

“Can you tell me exactly what happened?”

“I don’t know. I heard a noise out in the hall, and I found my employee on the floor. She couldn’t breathe. She lost consciousness almost as soon as I found her.”

“How old is the patient?”

“Late thirties?”

“Is the patient conscious?”

“No!” he exclaimed. His arms were starting to burn, and he found himself wishing he’d used that private gym more often. “Her eyes are open, but… she’s not blinking, or breathing. I’m doing chest compressions!”

“Okay, patient is not breathing and not responding.”

“Correct!”

“Did she take anything?”

“I don’t know… Before she passed out, she was clawing at her throat.”

“Can you check in her mouth? Take your index finger and sweep it between her teeth. Look for any foreign objects.”

Mitchell stopped compressions and grasped her jaw, holding open her mouth while he looked inside. He raked a finger between her teeth once, twice, and a third time. 

“I can’t feel or see anything.”

On a whim, Mitchell leaned forward, pinched her nose shut, and took a deep breath. The local Red Cross had switched to teaching compression-only bystander CPR in his annual courses, but he remembered rescue breathing from years prior. He sealed his mouth over hers and blew a breath into her. His cheeks puffed out, as did hers, but the air wouldn’t go into her lungs. He tried a second time, their lips making a spluttering sound as the air escaped between them.

“Sir? Mitchell?”

He started compressions again. “I tried to give her rescue breaths. I think she choked on something, or maybe an allergic reaction… the air wouldn’t go down her throat. I couldn’t see anything. She smells like… candy, though…”

“Continue chest compressions, sir.” A few seconds passed as he forced his hands deep into her chest. “Sir, I’m told we already have a unit downstairs at your building. Is there someone who can let them in?”

“Security should already be doing that,” he shouted. “I don’t know where they are!”

“How long would it take you to get downstairs?”

Mitchell thought about that with growing dread. It would take him several minutes to get downstairs and back, which would leave Larissa alone on the floor in apparent cardiac arrest with no help at all. That being said, the paramedics would be able to help her more than he could. Maybe he could carry her to the elevator? As he was thinking, he felt something give in her chest.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed. “I just broke something inside her!”

“That’s okay, sir. Keep performing chest compressions. Do you know how long it would take you to get—”

The operator cut out.

“Hello?” Mitchell called.

“Yes, sir, I’m told security has let the paramedics into your building. Please stay on the line until they’ve reached you.”

“Thank God,” he muttered. He was breathing hard, his sweat dripping on the dying woman underneath him. Her face was slowly turning from purple to gray, and her lips were blue. He wondered what that meant for her in the long term, assuming the paramedics could save her life. He’d been looking forward to her presentation; Larissa was an affable woman, smart and creative. Mitchell had expected her to ace the pitch that she was obviously now unable to give.

“Tell you what,” he said, his voice hoarse and his breathing labored. “You survive this, the promotion is yours. And all the recovery time you need, paid. And some vacation time on top of that. Just… don’t die here, okay?” She stared through him, her head shaking. He hoped it was more of an affirmative nod.

He heard the soft ding of the elevator, and then someone called out: “Mr. Anders? Paramedics are here!”

“Back here!” he shouted. “Near my office! Hurry!”

A security officer and two paramedics rounded the corner, jogging and wheeling a gurney with various bags and equipment sat on top or slung over their shoulders. One of the paramedics dropped down beside him and said: “Thank you, sir, I’ve got her.”

Mitchell lifted his hands and scooted quickly to the side, watching as the paramedic started forceful compressions. Both of them were wet from the rain. He clambered to his feet, breathing hard, arms shaking. He backed a few feet down the hall to keep from interfering, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. “Her name is Larissa,” he said, and one of the paramedics looked up and nodded.

“Now that the paramedics are there I’m going to disconnect,” he heard the operator say.

Performing compressions was ultimately worse than watching them but watching them was pretty terrible. The paramedic appeared to be caving in her chest, over and over again. Meanwhile, the second paramedic worked quickly around the first, cutting down the middle of her shirt and her bra, exposing her bluish breasts. He connected a monitor and then put some sort of metal scope down Larissa’s throat. The noise from the monitor quickly became part of the background, as he watched the paramedic use a long pair of forceps to pluck a red disc from Larissa’s airway.

Those cinnamon candies we keep stocked in the conference room, he thought. Fuck. She was in there preparing for the presentation.

“Pause compressions,” he heard the second paramedic say, and he watched him intubate her. The paramedic used a stethoscope to listen to her lungs as he squeezed the bag he’d attached. Then he started winding tape around the tube and sticking it to her face. “I’m in, equal on both sides, continue compressions.”

The second paramedic was everywhere, inflating Larissa’s lungs by squeezing the bag attached to the tube, inserting an IV. Snipping the top of Larissa’s skirt so he could press his fingers to a spot by her groin.

Time slowed. There seemed to be endless rounds of compressions, and medications injected into the IV. He heard talk of loading her up mid-arrest and transporting her to the hospital.

Abruptly, the first paramedic said: “She’s in v-fib.”

“Charging,” the second paramedic chimed in, squeezing the bulb. 

Compressions continued until the second paramedic dropped orange squares onto Larissa’s bare chest. The first paramedic raised his hands, and Mitchell saw the ugly purple bruise forming over Larissa’s sternum. 

The second paramedic pressed paddles against the orange square. Mitchell realized he had his hands pressed to his mouth, watching as the second paramedic called out: “Clear!” and then delivered the shock, making Larissa’s torso jump and her limbs twitch.

“Still in v-fib,” the first paramedic said, leaning over to start compressions again. 

“Charging.”

Mitchell’s phone, forgotten and lying on the floor, was ringing. He glanced at it, saw the name of his CFO. Wondered if security had called her. He ignored it.

“Clear!” The second paramedic said, delivering another shock. Her body jerked again, her limbs flicking.

There was a long few seconds of silence from the paramedics, another pulse check, and then: “Sinus rhythm. Got her!”

Mitchell wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but they’d stopped compressions and the paramedics seemed… he didn’t know if “pleased” was the right word, but the energy in the hallway was significantly different. Then, while he was watching, Larissa’s hand twitched, the fingers curling slightly. His own heart skipped a beat.

“Larissa!” the first paramedic called as he inflated the blood pressure cuff around her arm. “Go ahead and let us know you can hear me, alright?”

“She’s not making any respiratory effort yet,” the second paramedic said. “Maintaining her rhythm so far. Wrap her up and get her on the road?”

“Soon as I bandage her foot, looks like she stepped in the glass.”

“Sir?” Mitchell looked up. He didn’t even realize he’d sunk to the floor, sitting against the wall, watching as the paramedics continued to monitor Larissa’s vitals and breathe for her through the tube protruding from between her teeth. Now, the security guard was leaning over him, Mitchell’s phone in hand. “I think someone’s trying to reach you. And uh, I need to get back downstairs. We’re short staffed tonight.”

“Excuse me?” Mitchell said. A shot of anger cut through his momentary disorientation. “Short staffed?”

“Yes, sir.”

The phone was ringing in his hand again. He ground out: “Go ahead and get downstairs. I’ll discuss this with your supervisor tomorrow. Thank you.”

The guard hesitated, then nodded, hurrying down the hall.

“This is Mitchell,” he said quietly, holding his phone up to his ear. They were covering Larissa with a blanket and seemed to be preparing to move her to the gurney.

“What’s going on up there? Do you know?” He heard his CFO Charise’s voice. “They called me when they couldn’t get you.”

“I was on the phone with 9-1-1,” he said, his voice grim. “One of our employees was here late and almost choked to death. I… She’s alive, I know that much. They’re about to transport her.”

“Oh my God,” Charise said. “Who? And you were there?”

“Yes, I…” He realized they might need help getting out of the building, so he pushed himself to his feet. “Listen, Charise… I need you to call Dennis. Tell him what happened. He needs to reach out to Larissa Colton’s emergency contact. Then you need to call Mark and tell him he’s running the pitch with Lenovo. And tomorrow I need to have a talk with Jeff. There was a massive failure with the panic button system tonight.”

“Got it. Larissa Colton, emergency contact. Then tell Mark. I’ll help you get a meeting with Jeff.”

Mitchell hurried down the hallway to grab his shoes and his coat. His office loungewear would have to do. “I’m going to find out where they’re taking her and go to the hospital. I’ll meet her emergency contact there.”

“Okay. Okay, thank you for doing that, Mitchell.”

“I feel… I need to know how this goes,” he said, his voice rough. “I hope she makes it. I don’t think she’s breathing on her own yet.”

“Oh. God…”

“Yeah, listen, Charise… I’ll let you know when I know more.”

“Okay, Mitchell. Take care.”

“Goodbye.” Mitchell jammed his feet into his shoes and jogged back down the hall where they’d loaded up Larissa. “I’ll escort you out. Do you know which hospital you’re taking her to? I’m going to try to meet her emergency contact there.”

“Second General.”

“Okay. Second General. I’ll follow you.” Larissa’s hand was trailing off the side of the gurney. He reached out, squeezed it, and then deposited it gently beside her.

Just breathe and wake up, right? Breathe and wake up.

Larissa, four days after the incident

She awoke, slowly, coming out of sedation, feeling confused and sluggish.

As she gained awareness, several things stood out: 

Someone was holding her hand and squeezing it regularly. Someone else was smoothing her hair. There was a tube down her throat, inflating her lungs at regular intervals. The air in her sinuses was very dry. Her chest and throat hurt.

“Larissa? Baby?” Mom.

“Just keep talking to her.” An unfamiliar voice.

“Open your eyes, honey.” Dad.

Her parents sounded very worried. She couldn’t place where she was, or why they would be there, or why something was breathing for her.

I must be sick. Did I catch COVID? Mom and Dad shouldn’t be in here. This is a hospital, right?

“Larissa, open those pretty eyes.” That unfamiliar voice again.

She had a lot of questions, and none of them could be answered with her eyes closed. So she opened them.

Mitchell, ten days after the incident

“We don’t know how to thank you.” Larissa’s parents were gushing, and Mitchell had never been great with gushing. He felt his face flush hot. Am I blushing? I do not blush.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m just… very glad that she’s going to be okay. And we’re looking forward to having her back at work, when she’s ready. I really appreciate you keeping us informed of her condition, it’s really given me—us peace of mind. Ah...I actually brought a bunch of well-wish cards from her co-workers, and some other things. Her direct supervisor suggested a donation to the Nature Conservancy in lieu of flowers? So we did that.” He realized he was talking too fast, so he shut his mouth with a click.

“Oh, that’s perfect!” Mrs. Colton said. “She volunteers with them, when she has time. She had more time when she was younger, of course…”

“Honey, let me take the man up to see her. Why don’t you go get us some coffee?” Mr. Colton reached out and clapped Mitchell on the arm. “I’ll be sure to embarrass him some more in the elevator, don’t worry.”

In the elevator, with the box of cards and other documents tucked under his arm, Mitchell wasn’t sure what to say to Larissa’s father. They rode in silence for a few floors until their floor dinged and the doors opened. Mitchell held the doors open with his arm, insisting Mr. Colton exit ahead of him.

Before they could head down the hall, Mr. Colton turned to him, his face red and his jaw working, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. “My wife is right. We really don’t know how to thank you. Not even for all the nice things you’ve done since it happened, but… but for helping her. I’m given to understand that she would be dead if you hadn’t helped her. And if not dead, then severely brain damaged. As it is… seems like she’s mostly going to be herself once she gets out of here.”

Mitchell nodded, surprised to feel his own eyes burning. He reached out to shake Mr. Colton’s hand. “Sir, it was…”

He trailed off, shook his head, and tried again. “I… To be honest, sir. Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course,” Mr. Colton said, releasing his hand.

“She scared the piss out of me. Sir.”

Her father blinked in surprise, and then laughed. “It’s not funny, but I wasn’t expecting that to come out of someone who looks like he ought to be on the front of Forbes.”

“It’s the truth. I was very worried for her. I’m glad that I was able to help.”

“Let’s go see her. She’ll want to thank you herself.”

They walked down to her room, her father leading. When they reached her door, Mitchell took two confident steps inside, and then froze. He couldn’t identify the feeling he was having. She hadn’t noticed them yet, and was sitting upright in her hospital bed, knees drawn up with a book propped up on them. Her hair was in a long, clean braid over her shoulder. She was still wearing various leads and a nasal cannula, but she looked…

“Mr. Anders?” her father asked. “Do you need to sit down?”

He did feel a little dizzy, if he was being honest. His brain kept comparing his last images of her to how she looked now. A little pale, perhaps, but there were dots of color on her cheeks. And her eyes looked normal. Not glazed over and staring through him. Alive, looking around. Looking at him.

“I uh… No, sir, I’m good. Larissa?”

“Mr. Anders?” she asked, looking surprised. He wondered if she had expected someone else from the company to visit.

“You know it’s Mitchell,” he said. “After all that. Mitchell.”

“‘All that’?” she said, laughing. He noticed she winced a little as she laughed, pressing a hand against her chest. Then she closed her book, stretched out her legs, and motioned him closer. “‘All that.’ I guess I don’t know how to word it, either. How often does the CEO of the company you work for directly save your life?”

He was blushing again. She was beautiful, and he was getting a lot of genuine pleasure from watching her move and breathe normally. She was smart, too, based on the presentation she’d prepared and never gotten to present. He thought the book was a good sign. Perhaps there hadn’t been much damage after all.

“Mitchell?” she asked, uncertain.

I need a therapist, he thought. I’m forty-five and I’ve never had one, but obviously I need one because I’m acting like I have a crush on my employee, who I last saw half-naked and semi-dead. That’s got to be some kind of complex.

“Sorry,” he said. He walked over to her bedside. Her father had taken a seat by the window and was watching them with raised eyebrows. He shook his head. “I… It’s really good to see you feeling better, Larissa. I was worried about you.”

Now she was blushing. At least he wasn’t alone.

“I’m told you found me and performed CPR until the paramedics got there.” She laid it right out on the table. “I choked on some candy… I thought I was going to die.”

“I… yeah, I did. I thought you were going to as well. Die, I mean. I was scared.” He cleared his throat. “I’m glad you didn’t die. By the way, I had my secretary get rid of all that shit. Crap, I mean. The candy. She replaced it with these fancy tins of dinner mints? Said they dissolve quickly.”

“That’s good, I don’t think I want to even smell that stuff ever again.” She dropped her eyes to the box under his arm, then back up to his face. “I’m sorry about the presentation.”

“You’re sorry about the presentation?” he asked, aware he sounded like an idiot.

“I really wanted to give that presentation.” She sounded regretful.

“OH! Oh, don’t worry about that. Mark used your prep work. He said it was fantastic. We got the account.”

“Oh,” she murmured, looking an odd combination of pleased and sad. “That’s good.”

“I actually have some things for you,” Mitchell said, shaking the box. “May I set this next to you on the bed?”

“Go ahead,” she said, shifting a little to make room. When she moved, the neckline of her hospital gown dipped low enough that he could see the top edge of the yellowing bruises on her chest. 

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked. “I mean, considering? I forgot to ask. You just… you look a lot better.”

“I should be getting out in a few days,” she said, smiling. “I uh, won’t be back to work yet, though. Assuming that’s not the stuff from my desk. Because if it is, that box is not big enough!”

Mitchell snorted. “I would drive you home myself if I saw you at the office in a few days. You have all the time you need. Paid. Don’t worry. Perks of scaring the sh— crap out of the CEO. And of course this isn’t your stuff, I would have to be some kind of asshole to clear out your desk and bring the contents to the hospital!”

“Thank you,” she said, her face serious. “I was worried I might not have a job anymore.”

Then she rushed to say: “Not that you have to talk about that with me. I’m sure that’s HR’s job.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Not have a job? I spent the past few days wondering if I was a horrible person for looking forward to when you’d be back at work instead of just being glad you were alive. I want to promote you, actually.”

She stared at him, then cleared her throat and said: “Really?”

“Yes. You were already a shoo-in for that position. The presentation was more for your benefit, so you’d know you could do it. But Mark says if I don’t promote you, he’ll never talk to me again, and that might be a problem since he’s my brother-in-law.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Yep, he married my brother a few years ago.” He pulled everything out of the box. First, he showed her the thick handful of cards. “You have a lot of well wishes to open. And then after that, I’d like you to review the offer letter. Not right now, do it when I’m not here. Then you can reach out to HR. They said it can be signed electronically so you don’t have to come in to do it. I’m also supposed to tell you that you aren’t approved to come back until you’re medically cleared. But the job is waiting for you when you’re ready.”

“I want it,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. “And I believe I’m... What did the doctor say? ‘Neurologically intact’ enough to do a good job. But I will look over the offer and make my decision.”

“Of course,” he said. “I wouldn’t expect you to sign without reading the offer.”

She took the cards from him, her fingers brushing his. That same “I need a therapist” feeling washed over him. It’s some kind of trauma response, right? I just need time.

She had a beauty mark riding her upper lip, which he hadn’t noticed before. The mark swept to the side as she smiled.

“It’s awkward, isn’t it?” She reached over and put her hand on his arm. He realized suddenly that her father had stepped out.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No, don’t, it’s normal. I feel like… Rather, I know that I will always look at you differently. Favorably differently. And I imagine seeing someone essentially dead and then knowing you saved them makes things feel very complicated, even if you weren’t their Ultimate Boss.” She squeezed his arm and then let him go. He missed her touch before he took his next breath. “It’s okay to not know how to feel.”

Mitchell nodded, finding that he couldn’t speak. She reached back out and said: “Give me a hug. A light one, I’m still sore. Just this once. HR doesn’t have to know.”

Her eyes were warm, and he could admit to himself that he needed to feel that she was okay. He needed something tactile to counteract his visceral memories.

So he hugged her, slipping his arms carefully around her lush frame, not wanting to crimp any tubing or cause her pain. She wrapped her arms around him, her hand cupping the back of his head. She didn’t smell like cinnamon anymore, and he let himself bury his face into her neck so he could feel the pulse of her heartbeat.

--

Next story in series: "Hostile Work Environment"

[wordingg]

Solitary Confinement

Summary: Tim Drake is kidnapped by the mysterious Mr. Oz and held by him in a small cell. Everyone assumes he's dead and nobody is looking for him, and it seems like his captors abilities are impossible to predict or think his way around.

A retelling of the events of Rise of the Batmen from Tim's perspective after his kidnapping.

Whumptober Fill. Day 3. Prompt: Solitary Confinement.

The room was small with one transparent wall looking out into an empty featureless hallway. Tim paced it out, ten spaces deep, seven paces across. Just enough room to lay down flat on his back and spread out a little.

The only marking was a circular indentation on the floor with strange markings around the inside circle. A little experimentation showed him that holding his finger against one of the markings would summon something into the circle. The first marking summoned a gray, greasy block that, after some investigation, Tim found was an especially distasteful ration bar. The next symbol summoned a long, deep hole in the floor barely wide enough for Tim to fit his hand into. He did fit his hand into it, shoving so hard and desperately looking for any seam or chance to break the pipe, that he nearly broke his hand. After giving up, Tim determined that must be what he would have to use as a toilet for the foreseeable future. The last symbol summoned water from the ceiling and a small drain holes in the center of the circle. A shower and a way to drink water.

That was it. Those were the only amenities in his cell. Just enough to barely keep him alive.

Tim shouted himself mute for the first few days.

He started off screaming in rage. He pulled out every possible insult and cuss word that his frankly impressive lexicon could conjure up, but the mysterious hooded man that had left him in that cell either didn't care or wasn't listening. Probably the latter. If Tim knew villains, he knew they couldn't resist looming over a conquered enemy. But, this man was setting himself apart from the pack.

When insults didn't work, Tim tried to reason with him. Why save him from certain death just to chuck him into a cell? Obviously the mysterious man believed he would have some use, but not just yet. Maybe he thought it was safer to keep him here in this tidy box, where he couldn't get into the kind of trouble that ended with hundreds of military grade drones aiming at him. Either way, Tim hoped that if he acted confused enough, maybe the man would come and explain it to him, and he could work on something from there. But, he never came.

By the time that Tim's voice was starting to give out, he had come to begging.

"Solitary confinement has a deleterious effect on humans," Tim croaked through a voice that was on its last legs. He leaned his head tiredly against the transparent field separating his cell from the hallway beyond. "Many people forced into solitary confinement experience panic attacks, depression and paranoia, and some suffer hallucinations even after being released."

He got nothing back. The only sound in response was Tim's breathing.

"If you want me in one piece later, you can't leave me in here alone," shouted Tim, one last desperate attempt. But, his voice cracked halfway through the sentence and despite his attempts to rest his voice, it never got back to the same volume.

His voice was gone.

"I can't do this," he whispered, the most he could do without hurting his throat.

After all attempts at communication failed, Tim determined that if he was going to escape, he would have to do it himself. Batman and the others would hopefully be searching for him, but he couldn't hang all his hopes on that. He had been just about to die before being transported to this cell. It wouldn't have been out of the question for Bruce to assume that the force of all those laser weapons shooting him at once might have been enough to vaporize him entirely. And, if not, the hooded man might have planted false evidence to convince them he was dead and not in need of rescuing. It had certainly happened before, though with Bruce that time.

Tim had a lot of technology powering his suit, probably even more than Bruce carried in his. And, there was some kind of scanning panel to the right of the transparent field holding him inside his cell. He suspected that he was being held on an alien ship of some kind, but he had to hope that their technology was compatible enough that he would be able to hack through the scanner if he could successfully take it apart and interface with it somehow.

He lost track of time while he was working on his escape. The clock on the OS of his suit had kept running, even once he lost all connection to the outside world. So, he could use the GUI on his bracer to check the time prior to his hacking project. But, the clock didn’t survive his cannibalizing of his suit to hack the sensor.

After almost completely dismantling the circuitry in his suit, he didn’t have a functioning screen to check anymore. He had resourced so much from his suit that even the CMOS battery had to go and with it all unbiased track of time.

But finally, after what felt like over a week of painstakingly twisting together tiny wires and welding microscopic copper lines to tiny jumpers and chips with a shorting taser, he held his makeshift panel interface up to the black glass panel for the umpteenth time and this time it flashed light blue with a little chirp and the transparent barrier collapsed back into the floor with a soft sigh.

Tim's cry of relief was not dignified, but he couldn't have possibly cared less. He leaped to his feet and ran out into the hallway for the first time.

He had barely allowed himself to think of next steps, the taste of freedom too sweet and the disappointment of each failed test too great. But, he had at least a rough idea of what he needed to do. If he was on an alien spaceship, then his only option was to run and fast. He would look for either an escape pod so that he would get the fuck out of dodge, an engine room to sabotage the ship so the hooded man was too busy trying not to blow up to come after Tim, or the bridge itself, so that he could confront the hooded man on his own terms. But, he was hoping for the engine room. That would give him the best odds of survival, let alone escape.

Tim ran as fast as his cramped legs could manage, his lungs already heaving with the effort after being contained for so long. He looked for symbols or signs or even marks of use or wear, but the hallways were completely featureless. There were doors along the walls with similar panels beside them, and many times the hallways split, but Tim didn't stop running. He just kept going down the biggest hallways he could, desperate for the feeling of space after spending so long in the tiny cell.

Which led him smack into a huge room filled with screens, the hooded man turning as Tim blasted into the room full speed.

Tim skidded to a halt and turned to look up at the screens, his chest heaving. Everywhere along the big curved walls were images of his world. Video of tornadoes and tsunamis, of war and murder, of chain link fences topped with barbed wire and children with emaciated bodies and sunken cheeks. Among them, mixed in with images of all the depravity of humanity, were the bats. Batman and Orphan and Batwoman and Azrael and Batwing and even Clayface all in combat or on the alert for it.

"Resourceful, aren't you?" the hooded man said, and Tim snapped back to him, his heart beating rabbit fast in his chest. The man's face was still completely enveloped in shadow, the multicolor light of the images behind him making him an ominous black figure.

"You can't keep me here!" Tim shot back with a show of confidence he didn't feel at all. Absolute terror was biting at his heels at the sight of the man who had tossed him in a cell and left him there, and whose capabilities he had basically no knowledge of.

"You are a dangerous man, Tim Drake," said the hooded man and raised his staff slightly off the ground and tapped it on the ground hard, the sound inordinately loud in the silent room.

Nothing happened, but he raised his staff again, and Tim's brain finally snapped back to action. That tapping did something, he was sure of it, and he was sure he didn't want to see what it would do once the man was done tapping.

"No!" Tim lunged at the man, meaning to take him to the ground in a football tackle, but the room dissolved in the blink of an eye.

With a crash, Tim landed back in the cell, running painfully into the force field that was again sealing him inside.

Tim scrambled to his feet, his head and shoulder aching where he had run into the transparent wall. He crawled to the jumble of electronics on the floor and jerked away with a hiss after picking up one of the bigger pieces. It was smoking. In fact, all of it was smoking, black singe marks left on the ground where they had been sitting.

That must have been what the first tap was. He had fried all the electronics in Tim's cell, the cobbled together interface that Tim had stupidly left behind when he made a run for it.

An animal sound of pain was coming out of Tim's throat, but he couldn't control it and didn't bother to try. Nobody was listening, not even the hooded man.

Tim curled over the burning hot tech still clutched in his hand and cried, tears welling up behind his mask, loosening the glue holding his domino on until they could drip down his cheeks and off his chin.

That was it. He had lost his chance to escape. He didn't have enough bits left in his suit to make another interface. The only chance he had was Bruce, and it had been over a week already. It was possible they weren't even looking for him.

Tim collapsed on his side, and the sounds of agony pouring from his already damaged throat got louder. He was helpless, a boy in a box, until his mysterious captor decided to take him out.

He was stuck. And, he was going to go mad in that stupid box, completely alone. There was no hope left.

[ratasum]

Nothing spoilery. Just some cute conversation with Leyya and @wall-legion's Odetta that's rattling around in my head.

"What do you mean your mother had seven partners?"

Leyya couldn't help but bark out a laugh at Odetta's incredulous tone, offering a weary smile as she glanced up at her younger friend. "You never hung out with many asura outside of Vezz and Rissia, huh?"

The girl's brow furrowed at that response, leaning forward with her arms folded on the table. "Well, no, but... is that common?"

"Serial monogamy. Asura traditionally bounce from partner to partner like they bounce from idea to idea." Humming softly, Leyya picked up a fork, leaning back in her chair. "They'll bond over a project, have a whirlwind romance that can last a few years, and then... end it. There's usually formal legal contracts. Polygamy's common. My parents weren't into it. I've got a dozen siblings on either side from their contracts over the years."

Odetta seemed to ponder that for a moment before her voice softened, fingers curling into the tablecloth. "...does your family know where you are?"

The question gave Leyya pause, and her eyes darted down towards the food laid out between them. "...no. When I- after I let Cepir into my head, I basically just started wandering Tyria. It tried to drive me back to Rata Sum, of course. To my parents, my stepparents, my siblings... to Zojja. But I couldn't face them"

"...do you think you'd ever want to?"

Slowly, Leyya shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. It's still so hard with this damn thing in my head."

Odetta fell silent at that, picking at the tablecloth with her nails for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh. "...so anyway... if asura practice serial monogamy... and just kind of, y'know, flash in the pan I guess? I mean... I guess I'm just wondering..."

"Why Zojja and I stayed close for so long?" She didn't wait for a nod to confirm. "Not all asura do it. It's common enough to be the norm, but it's also not everybody. That being said, I think Zee once put it that... people were different than projects. She wanted someone who would see past that big brain of hers to the person she was behind it. Driven and passionate and clever. All those things, not just the genius prodigy. Probably why she took to Qirri and Taimi like she did. She wanted to be loved. Not just admired."

Smiling a little, Odetta sat back, adjusting the plate in front of her. "And you?"

Leyya just laughed. "She and I have known each other since we were progeny. I think I've always been enamored with her. Didn't become... bigger than that until we were in college, and it just kind of exploded when she was looking for some kind of solid ground after Snaff died. And to be honest? Neither of us were ever very good at being "proper" asura." For a moment, she looked away, towards the kitchen where Sheridan was finishing up dinner. "...what about you? Anyone important like that?"

"Wh- no, not at all! I don't... I don't know if there ever will be. I have a lot of baggage, you know."

"Zojja was an orphan taken in and mentored by one of the greatest geniuses in a generation that could never quite find her footing, and I'm the square peg trying to fit into the round hole of a constantly shifting family where I never quite fit in. We found each other before. I'm sure you can find someone too. You're a perfectly attractive young woman, and believe me, I've seen more than a few young folks out in the city eyeing you. Maybe a nice sea captain, or that nice young norn girl that helps in the tavern..."

Odetta spluttered for a moment, and for a brief moment, the grin on Leyya's face was geniune. She even laughed when Odetta threw the cloth napkin by her hand at her face. "You stop grinning like that! Ooh, you're a pest, you know that?!"

As Leyya's laughter rang through the room, Odetta's flustered scolding mixed throughout, Sheridan paused at the door, peering through the crack as they held it open with one hand, dishes piled in the other three. Maybe they would give them a few more minutes... after all, all of them needed some levity.

Whether they knew it or not.

[jodilin65]

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 31, 1993 I just had an awesome idea and believe me, I’ll be one pissed puppy if it doesn’t work. Well, I’ve been wanting very much to type in my journals here and there. Of course, I cannot fit the book into the roller, so I thought maybe I’d cut some pages out, then staple them, then glue or tape them back in, but that may be hard to do. Maybe what I could do instead, is type on other paper, cut to the size of the pages in here, then glue those in. Why not? It’d be something different for a change and that can’t hurt. I’ve highlighted the entry dates of the first 20 journals. I also have a lot to tell, so I’ll go cut paper and begin typing some stuff.

Later…

I’m not gonna type too much after all cuz I’m getting very tired. Will I sleep? I don’t know, but today I sure didn’t sleep much. Those fucking lawnmowers! How nice it is to know that that’s my last morning having to listen to that shit.

To pick up in order from where I left off, well, I was sure to knock on the door a few times here and there for the bitch next door. This is last night.

When I got up yesterday I called food stamps and told them of my new address. They’re gonna send some stuff in the mail. I still need to call SS and some of my friends to let them have my new phone number. The 863 prefix is the same one Bob had in Turners Falls. I tried to get the last 4 digits to be 1994, but I was told that if she had it, it’d be considered a custom number and that there’d be a charge for it, so I forgot about it. I know good things are going to happen in ’94.

I called to let Tammy know my new address and number and Bill answered. He was all giggly and happy about who knows what, then he jokingly calls out, “Hey Tammy, the stripper’s on!”

I got this kit in the mail under a phony name. It’s got lots of colored photos and all kinds of animals and stories about them. I also got a Passover card in the mail from Mom and Dad.

I went over at one point to pick up Andy’s laundry and he was on the phone long distance. I was a bit annoyed cuz he said he had it ready, so I slammed my way out of his place and back into mine. Next door oughta have loved that as I knew she was in bed and her lights were off and her truck was outside.

The next minute my phone rang and I expected it to be Andy. I said, “What! I thought you were gonna stick it in the door and I’d just quickly come in and grab it and then you could go back to your phone call.”

It was Dad saying something about sticking something somewhere. I was cracking up cuz I wasn’t expecting a call from him. I did leave them a message, but they’re not usually up at 12:30 (their time). I talked to both of them, and yes, Ma acted like the fight we had over the phone never happened. I gave them the number and address.

After that, I went over to get his laundry and I made really sure to slam my way in and out of here.

Andy was up later than he thought he’d be and he called me with a great idea. An apartment complex has a maintenance number to call where you punch in your number, so I punched in Andi’s. I also knocked really loud and clear at 1:30. Even Andy could hear that real well. He could hear it through the walls as well as through the phone.

Scott stopped up earlier but only for a second. He was in the truck that’s gonna move me which is a huge pickup. One of his employees was driving and he’ll be helping with the move. I’ll probably be moving this weekend.

I had a nice, yet strange conversation with Keri today at Crystal Creek, but I’ll write about it another time.

My folks didn’t have too many questions about the new apartment, as happy as I know they are for me. It sounds like Tammy told them about it. I left a message saying it was a 900-square-foot, 2-bedroom/1-bath but they never asked me how much the rent was.

I’m gonna listen to music now and try my damnedest to fall asleep. I’ll expand on other little things some other time.

TUESDAY, MARCH 30, 1993 The lawnmowers never came today, but sure enough, it was made up for. At 11:30, I was woken up (I went to bed at 5:30) by banging below me. I was thinking Stacey or someone else with her went into Dave’s place knowing he wasn’t home to bang his bedroom ceiling under my bed. I’m not sure if this was the case, but like they have one problem after another, a main pipe broke today. We had no water for about 10 hours. Tomorrow will be the lawnmowers and if the next day isn’t the parking lot sweepers, it’ll be something else.

I have great news about the apartment, but I’ll write about it later.

Later…

God, I wish this cold would quit and give it up!

Right after I was kindly woken up, I paged Scott who called right back. He told me he found out I owed money on a $66 electric bill in MA. I never knew I had an outstanding bill with the electric company in MA, so obviously it was a fuck-up, thanks to fuel assistance.

I spoke with a really nice girl named Keri at the office who so kindly broke the rules to give me the information I needed. She said don’t tell anyone cuz her manager would be upset. I’m going to write a check to the electric company and give it to Keri who’s gonna mail it off for me. She’ll photocopy the check for proof that I’ve cleared it up. I get a feeling that the girls in this office will all be as nice as Paula and Judy. I hope so.

I will be moving Thursday, Friday or Saturday and I called SRP and APS. APS is the electric company there and I must bring them a deposit of $117. Scott’s helping me financially with the first month and I’ll type for him.

Tomorrow I must call the phone company, as well as food stamps and SS. I already filled out a change of address form. My mail will go over there this Saturday. He has a truck and people to help me move.

MONDAY, MARCH 29, 1993 Naturally, I’m wide awake and probably will be for hours to come. Maybe it’ll be a little peaceful around here tomorrow as far as the lawnmowers are concerned. It’s raining. If I move on the 1st, I hope it rains all the way through till when I get over there. Keeps the lawnmowers away, as well as the parking lot sweepers which are due to return any day.

Everyone’s vibes are different. Andy feels me staying till my lease is up (although that’s what he’d want). Kara says the second week of April. John says April 1st with a slight possibility of April 2nd. I don’t know what to feel, but put it this way - do I feel myself being here in May? No, thank fucking God.

I called John earlier and we chatted a bit. Tomorrow he’ll call Stacey.

I also called Nervous to play a little detective for me. This is gonna sound funny but it’s been picking at me for some time now. When I was living on Oswego St. in 1987 or 1988, Tammy “slipped” and told me a little secret. My sister’s 35 and I’m 27 and so she says that after she was born and before I was born, mom had a miscarriage. My question is, why is it such a big secret? Why the cover-up? Lots of women have miscarriages. I questioned mom about it and she flat-out refused to discuss it. She pulled her “easy way out” line telling me she never looks back on her past. This is why she stayed screwed up year after year. Cuz she never had the guts to admit, face, and deal with her past to help deal with the future. My mother’s a rather weak individual, I’m sorry to say.

A number of things went through my mind. It could be a number of things. Lots of things back then were covered up and hidden. Today more things are exposed and talked about. Stuff like rape, child abuse (emotional, physical and sexual), domestic abuse, adultery and divorce. The woman could’ve been raped. She could’ve had an affair even though I’m 99.9% sure neither one of them ever did. But people are learning, including myself, never to be so sure and take anything for granted. Even those you least expect to do whatever can surprise you.

I remember my sister-in-law Sandy. She was 8 months pregnant and got in a car accident. It was stillborn, but under the Jewish laws (I guess) it was “old enough” to be named and buried. I think it was Sarah Ann. Could something like this have happened to my mom? It could all mean nothing, but my gut tells me to check it out anyway. Nervous is gonna check the gravesite.

SUNDAY, MARCH 28, 1993 What in the world happened to Scott!? Early this afternoon we were supposed to pay a lovely visit to the credit company. After only 4 hours of sleep, I paged him at noon and I’ve never heard from him all damn day. The guy must’ve been super busy. I hope nothing’s wrong.

I am so tired, but just too restless to sleep. I need to sleep badly, too.

Kara was cracking up when I told her about my going off on Andi for 3 hours. I only heard her at 9:30 tonight for about 10 minutes. She’d better be really fucking quiet tomorrow.

I want to hurry up and get this move over with. My only fear is finding some sort of nasty surprise there, but Scott’s been there long enough, so if he says it’s quiet, it’s quiet. It’s just that noise seems to go where I go.

I’m definitely gonna ignore my neighbors, but I’d like to maybe know who’s below me and next to me. Scott has two apartments next to him on both sides of him. I have only 1 apartment next to me. They’re between Scott and me.

John’s gonna call Stacey Mon., but it’s obvious she doesn’t want a subleaser in here. She cares more that I stay than for John to move in and pay a little over $300, whereas I pay $277. Hey, it’s her loss, not mine.

Later…

I am now in one hell of a foul mood. I’m tired of this fucking waiting game. There have been too many places I’ve been psyched to leave and had to play the fucking waiting game. I should just stop waiting and stop trying to get out of here. If I’m not moved by the 1st I’ll go get my $70 and look for a place that does no credit check.

And also, if I don’t get to L.A. by May, I’m not going at all.

Scott called today from the airport. He flew in with some attorneys for a meeting once again with the IRS. I know this guy is busy, but I can’t handle the stress of waiting and hoping. I’m just gonna have to be here for a while and deal with the bitch next door. She was quiet yesterday, but today the butch had 7 people over from 1:30-5:30. These two kids were slamming her door and screaming outside, throwing rocks. At one point I went down to Mary’s as she was taking me to the store. I slammed her door 4 times cuz we’re both so fucking fed up with her. When we returned I called Mary a little later. She said Andi went down and said to Mary, “I hope you weren’t slamming the door in regards to me. I have nothing against you. I don’t care about the one next door, but I hope we don’t have any problems.”

Mary told her the truth; that she was fed up with the slamming and the banging. Mary was trying to study.

She said Andi said, “Yeah, I understand that but I already told the kids about the door.”

Yeah, well the “one next door” has a hell of a treatment in store for her, but I’ll write about it later. If I’m stuck here, she’s gonna have to shut the fuck up and stay that way. I even called the cops, especially cuz I wanted a police report, but they split right after I called. So, I called 911 back and told them to cancel.

Why doesn’t this bitch just go on vacation? She told me she was gonna for many weeks when I first moved in here, so what happened? I wish she’d either go on vacation or get stuck in the hospital for a while. A broken bone may do that, and I’ve got one plan. Anyone who knows that for me to resort to such an extreme, I’ve gotta be pissed! I’ve had enough! She’s gonna be mincemeat!!

SATURDAY, MARCH 27, 1993 At 11:00 I fell asleep and I awoke at 1:00. I’m coughing and congested, so I took that raunchy-tasting cough syrup. It’s made me very drowsy so hopefully, I’ll fall back asleep soon. I’m very tired and I’m gonna need my sleep with the way weekends are so noisy here.

I just spoke to John and he called the office today asking for Stacey. Judy said she wasn’t there. He’ll call back tomorrow to speak to Judy or Paula, but I don’t think John’s gonna live here. That may be for the better, though.

John’s birthday is April 2nd and I want to get or make him a card. He really is a good friend and I’m glad I met him.

Not the Friday that just went by but Friday last week, I went to Scott’s complex in the early afternoon. I brought my work stuff with me. I filled out an application at the office and that’s when I was shown the apartment I put down $70 to hold it. One problem, though. When she ran my credit check she said I owe someone money. By law, even though it’s my credit report, she couldn’t say who it was or how much. She did say it was one thing and nothing drastic. She gave me the name of Credit Data Southwest to get it cleared up, as the girl who applied for the same apartment wasn’t likely to get it. She said things don’t look too good for this girl.

I have no idea what it is, but I have a few theories. It could be stuff I’ve ordered through the mail, which Scott says they can’t prove. It could also be from when I was in the ER in Norwich. They always screw up their billing and of course, I have Medicaid and Medicare. Two days ago Scott and I drove around looking for the place, but by the time we found it, it was closed. Tomorrow afternoon we’re gonna go to this place and I sure as hell hope it can be cleared up quickly cuz as of today, my apartment is ready. I must transfer my phone, electricity, food stamps and call good old SS. Gotta call my bank, too.

So, the day I saw the apartment, Scott took me to work and picked me up. I was gonna stay overnight there to see how quiet it is, but I couldn’t breathe. His roommate and his girlfriend were asleep, but I could smell the stench of mold coming from their room. There’d been a leak in the ceiling in there which had molded and it was to be taken care of the next day. Plus, these people are slobs and he’s finally kicking them out. Lastly, I can’t handle being around more than one cat.

So, during the two hours I was there, we ate hot dogs and he showed me his stamp collection and his drawings. Then, he drove me home.

His cat is a female that’s gray. My cat’s all black. A male cat and he’s gonna get it neutered and declawed. His cat’s spayed and declawed. My cat (Mystery) is very lovable and friendly. I miss having a cat. God answered my prayers on that one. While I’m asleep he can stay in the spare bedroom.

Scott repairs government homes that people lost due to drug busts or cuz they weren’t making their mortgage payments. This is why he can get lots of furniture for free. I sure do miss my soft full-wave waterbed and he says every 1 out of 4 homes has one. That’ll be great and I’ll put this twin bed in the spare bedroom. Meanwhile, he gave me a beanbag (he had 3). He’s also gonna put a ceiling fan in my bedroom.

Later…

I am extremely exhausted. Scott never called and I tried paging him, too.

Kara came over for the first time in a month. She made us coffee and we listened to some tapes. She brought cigarettes, too. She also killed a spider and checked and Windexed my kitchen window. I have not had the guts to open it since I found that huge spider. There was a hole in the screen that she taped.

I had a very nice chat with my niece Lisa, too.

FRIDAY, MARCH 26, 1993 Well, I guess John must have gotten busy at work at Circle K. He hasn’t called back yet. He works part-time at Circle K which is like a 7/11 convenience store. He also drives the cab part-time. He’s gonna call the office tomorrow and ask Stacey why she lied to me about his coming in to take my apartment Knowing her, she’ll be like, “Oh, I recognize you and we did speak as I now recall. Your application was accidentally misplaced.”

Believe it or not, I’m sort of developing a crush on Stacey. She’s getting awfully fun to play with. And go off on. Especially when I know I can get away with it. She gets a kick out of it and about 4 nights ago I came up with a great idea. I said to myself, “OK, Stacey. You wanna play? I can play and bullshit right back.”

At 2:30 in the morning last Monday or Tuesday, I called the office knowing I’d get the machine. This is what I said: “Hi, this is Jodi and this message is for Stacey. Thank you so much for the stuff you left outside my door. I just got home and discovered it. I was shocked, but that was very nice of you as I just ran out of the brand I usually use.”

I was referring to the hair stuff, of course, and I figured she’d ask about it out of normal curiosity. I would’ve said what it was and that a card, which I already threw out with the garbage had been attached saying: From Stacey, at the VV office.

Amazingly enough, she never ever questioned me to find out just what in the hell I was talking about. Not even when I went into the office today to get my collector’s plate that came in the mail. Only she and Judy were there at that time. Maybe she didn’t want to bring it up in front of Judy.

I noticed Judy’s hair was up in a banana clip, so after half an hour I returned with one I don’t want. They get stuck in my hair so I gave them to her. Stacey was talking to an old man who lives here.

I’d have had 3 plates, but I only have two cuz one broke. I have a cat looking into a mirror and one of a little girl looking into a pond with flowers all around her. The one that broke was of a white Angora cat surrounded by purple flowers.

Later…

I wish my cold would hurry up and pass. At least this time it’s a cold and not the flu and the fever’s gone, but my throat is still a little sore. I’m also very very congested. Damn, I wish I could quit smoking! I’m trapped till I die on that one, though.

At around 5:30, I fell asleep and I woke up to the thunderstorm we had at noon. That’s fine with me, though. It’s pouring pretty heavily out there now and it’s chilly. It’s about 15º cooler than it has been. A pretty drastic change from how it’s been the last month. At least it’s not constantly changing every day like New England weather does.

There are only two things I don’t like about my new apartment I have no glass sliding shower door. I have to get a shower curtain that blows all around and sticks to you. There’s also no roof above my patio. Here I can usually leave my door open during the rain, but there I won’t be able to. At least it does not rain too often here, so I can leave my windows open while I’m asleep or out and not have to worry.

Anyway, let me back up to a couple of weeks ago. I think, but I’m not sure, it was a Friday night that I’d reached my final straw with the bitch next door banging. I said that’s it! I’m gonna give it right back. I screamed and pounded the walls for nearly 3 hours.

Mary and Dave were sitting outside talking. Mary explained to Dave why I was going off cuz right before I did, I called her to tell her what was coming.

The next day Dave left a note by my door. It said: I heard you last night and I’m sorry someone disturbed your sleep. I understand as I used to work 2nd and 3rd shifts. I was playing music and burning candles and incense. If this bothers you, please call me.

He gave me his number and I called and left a message explaining the ass next door.

Ever since that night, she’s been much quieter. I mean, like 90% quieter.

Mary’s been up a few times and we’ve also chatted on the steps, so I’m sure she’s overheard exactly how I feel. Also, anytime she tap dances, I’m gonna dance right back.

I don’t know if I wrote about this, but a week or so ago, I called one of the two maintenance numbers here, so whoever was to answer wouldn’t recognize my voice. I said, “This is Andrea C and my toilet’s overflowing and there’s water everywhere.” A half-hour later, one of the guys knocked, but I don’t think she answered. I’m sure it woke her up, though.

Dave downstairs is an excellent neighbor. I only woke up once to his closet door, but I nicely explained how well that can rock the place on his machine. One night we got to chatting for a while and he invited me down for some pizza. That was nice. He also called last night to see if I’d be awake at 5:30. He’s having a woman with a little monster come over. He said to call if it gets to be too much, but I think I can handle it knowing I’m moving and I am awake. Drowsy cuz of my cough syrup, but awake.

Later…

I still presently have a few more subjects to write about that I left off with in the previous journal. However, this cold is still nagging me, so I’ll probably write later.

My stomach is growling for food. I’m gonna go eat now as at least I have somewhat of an appetite. Then, I’ll watch TV, listen to music and write letters. Probably yack on the phone, too.

Later…

I am watching America’s Most Wanted now.

I spoke to Tammy earlier and I’m gonna have Scott call her. She’s in a really desperate financial crisis now. Maybe she can type for him.

I’m disappointed that it’s only a myth that exotic dancers make big bucks. Maybe in Vegas or Hollywood, but not here too often. I know all the girls bitch about how little they usually make and that it’s not just me. I wish it was me, though, so I could correct whatever was wrong.

Well, I’m gonna go continue with my TV shows and I’ll write later.

THURSDAY, MARCH 25, 1993 I am so happy and so pissed at the same time.

I’ve had my final straw with Stacey and she’s gonna get it good this time. Last week John decided to sublease my apartment We called Stacey and she said to come pick up an application. I did and gave it to John one night when he picked me up from work. He called me and told me he filled it out, brought it to the office, spoke briefly with Stacey, and was told she’d process it. I began to have a funny feeling about Stacey fucking with any subleasers to try to keep me here. I called and all 3 girls told me John never came in. But I know John wouldn’t lie and he described what Stacey looks like. That fucking bitch! I’m gonna do just what Scott told me to do. Go in the office with John and have her tell us to our faces that he never came in. You’d think that with the way I’ve gone off on them so many times for so many reasons, they’d say, “We don’t want a bitch like her here.” I know exactly why Stacey wants to keep me here. For one or both of the following reasons. To irk me, as she knows I do not like it here and why. I told her I was fully aware of her ordering Gordy to yack really loud outside my window early in the morning, not that I’d expect her to admit it. I also told her that with or without a subleaser, I’m out of here. Overall I’ve been pretty lucky with neighbors (at least back east I was when you get the NHA out of the picture), but with landlords and apartment managers, it’s been a whole different ball game. If it was the other way around and they knew I loved it here, I bet she’d try to evict me. I’m literally her fucking source of entertainment. She gets off on me going off.

I have another possible motivation on her part which others suggested to me when she pulled her first episode with me last October. I think it’s a combination of both, though. I’ve heard she’s married, but even if she wasn’t and if she were attracted to a female, she’s too conservative to act on it. She surely seems the type who could never bring herself to go with a woman no matter how much she was attracted to them. Maybe I’m the first one, she’s not used to the feeling, and it’s freaking her out. When people can’t act on their attraction and get positive attention, they’ll try getting negative attention. People desperate for sex or friendship like Nervous, Fran and Ellie surely do stuff like that. But Stacey is a different kind in that same group of people. To tell you the truth, I’d be somewhat flattered if she liked me. She’s no one I’d ever have a relationship with because she’s too much of a bitch, but I’d have sex with her.

Last Friday Scott took me to his complex to fill out an application for a 1-bedroom, but there were no top-floor 1-bedrooms available. All they had were first and second floors. No way. So, the subject of a 2-bedroom/1 bath came up for $500 a month. Even if I made $600 a month at work, plus my $444, I could swing the rent, electricity and phone. However, Scott will be paying $200 of my rent for me to type for him. This is good anyway, as SS would surely wonder how I can pay $500 for rent, plus the electricity and phone out of $444 a month. The rental lease to prove what my rent is can easily be changed. I simply white out the $500 and reprint $325. Then, I photocopy it.

So, I saw a vacant apartment two doors away from Scott’s that’ll be ready on the 27th of this month. It’s gorgeous! It’s about 900 square feet and it’s sort of laid out like the 2-bedrooms here. The master bedroom is by the highway which is fine with me as highway noise is kind of soothing. The other bedroom’s at the opposite end of the apartment on the other side of the building, and yes it’s even closer to the pool. That’s OK, though, as where I’m gonna sleep is far from the pool and that’s where the highway noise is. At the other end of the apartment where the other bedroom is, are the sounds of the waterfalls. It’s a very long apartment and the kitchen is sort of like the ones here in the 1- and 2-bedrooms. It’s wider and you can reach through and over a counter into the living room. Sort of like a little bar-like thing, and I want to get stools. The other wall’s solid cuz behind it is outside.

The security guard lives below me and is on a night schedule, too. The office is next to me, but not directly attached to me. They’re on the ground at an angle. There’s someone next to me on the side where my kitchen and living room wall is, but it’s fine as the wall’s solid concrete. Also, the apartment’s so big that they’re not right next to you. In this studio building, everyone’s next to each other cuz the apartments are so small and so close. It’s like living in a house here, rather than your own apartment

There’s no way I’ll be so able to hear footsteps and banging so much. Even if there were a kid next to me, although I prefer there not to be, it wouldn’t be such a problem.

My apartment is even bigger than Scott’s cuz he loses the extra space in his second bathroom. I make it up in living room space. His stairs are on the poolside of the building. Mine are on the highway side. I have a huge sliding glass door at the end of the living room. One window in the master bedroom and two in the other. They’re corner windows close together and it’s so cool looking. One goes directly outside and the other onto my patio. My storage closet’s not on my patio. It’s right outside my front door, but that’s fine in case I encounter any unwanted visitors in it. Easier to sweep it out, too. It’s locked, but I’ll be sure I don’t put any valuables in it.

Later…

In half an hour or so from now, John will be calling, so I’ll write till then. Andy will probably call, too. At the same time as everything happens at once. While I was in the shower today, Andy, Scott, and some magazine publisher called.

Once again I questioned Andy about the hair care products and TV guide left by my door. He swears he has no idea about it. No clue at all. It makes no sense that someone I know wouldn’t tell me if they left it. It also makes no sense for a stranger to drop it by my door. Only people who know me know my hair is my life and that I use TV guides. My TV guides now come in the mail.

Thank God Pete, our regular mailman is back.

Andy played me a message Velma left him for me. It said, “Tell your friend I will order a straightening iron for $14.95 if she wants.” Just as I was about to say something, Andy asked what I was about to say. A straightening iron (especially a rare kind hardly ever sold in stores) costs from $20-$30, so this is her way of settling fairly with me. I told Andy to tell her that I’ll tell him when to have it ordered some time after I move.

I guess Andy just had a money problem with Velma, too. He’s using some furniture of hers. A double bed, a TV stand, small table, two chairs, and that big chair. She said she’s selling it to him for $175 and she wants $85 of it now! He told her he didn’t have $85 on him even though $175 is a great price for all the furniture. So, she whined, bitched and complained, taking it oh so personally. Then Velma bitched about her phone being disconnected. Andy asked why not take all that money she has in her Cadillac fund, but she wouldn’t budge.

TUESDAY, MARCH 23, 1993 I have an awful lot to write about so I’ll get a move on it.

Once again I’ve been cursed with the flu. I am feverish with a sore throat, but at least I’m not puking. The doctor called in stuff for my flu and my pap results came back OK. Thank God.

Angel and Brian took me food shopping yesterday.

Oh, on the 16th I was hired at the Mile High and I worked Thursday and Friday. Shockingly and disappointingly enough, the money’s no better than Sha Na Na’s. At least the girls are nice and there’s no tip out. All I do is tip the DJ 10% of what I make. I’ll also save on my $5 cab fares whenever the hell I move cuz Scott can usually drive me.

I really want Scott and Andy to sit down and talk about all the stuff Scott’s told me. Andy feels Scott’s too good to be true, but he’s that way with everyone. Plus, if I had any funny feelings I’d have walked away and never gotten involved. He’s also had plenty of chances to hurt me if he were that way. When Andy first met Scott, even he was saying how cool a person he seems. There are a lot of interesting things to be written about Scott which I’ll do another time. In the meantime, do I think he’s gonna rape me? No. Do I think he’s gonna drop off the face of this earth? No. And even if he did, with my $444 from SS and $600 - $800 from the Mile High, I can swing my rent at Crystal Creek. I also met Scott’s parents at their retirement home.

I know why Andy’s acting this way. He does this whenever things go well for me and people do things for me he wishes they would do for him. He’s both happy for me as well as jealous. I’m moving earlier and then there’s Capitol. Speaking of that, he’s had 3 posters made up of the picture I gave him. It normally costs $1,000 but since he knows a photographer, he’s paying $500. That is very kind of him. I said really loud in the bar, “You paid $500 to have me blown up!” Some people got a kick outa that one!

Bob’s getting into envelope decorations, too. How nice. He’s sent 3 so far. Fran got the 3 journals. I’ll write more later. I am just too feverish and dizzy right now to sit up and write.

THURSDAY, MARCH 18, 1993 I just killed a spider and decided to write now. I need to stay up till at least 2:00 cuz I don’t want to wake up earlier than 10:00. I just paged John and Scott, but I got no calls yet.

Yesterday after Andy and I had T-bone steaks, stuffing, and corn here for dinner, I scrubbed down the kitchen area, but I need to dust, vacuum and clean the bathroom.

Scott was over about 5 nights ago. He’s dealing with undependable elderly people, trying to get them into my place. He knows tons of people but he hasn’t got the time to contact them about getting in here.

I let him hear some edits as well as a few of his own that I edited from messages he left me.

He talked to Bill about a picture of me. Bill said he’s only interested in the voice, but promotions may want to see if the “girl” is marketable. I gave Scott one of me in a black dress. Behind me were the blinds on my sliding glass door. He knows a photographer personally and he’s gonna have it blown up and have the blinds taken out and an ocean replaced as my background.

Last night I spoke to John. He wants out of his place, as the people above him stomp on his head all day. He’s gonna let me know about taking over my place, but I don’t have a great vibe on that one.

A couple of days ago Andy called me wanting me to hear a message someone left him to see if I knew who it was. All she said was, “Hi, talk to you later.” I said it sounded like Ellie’s voice. He agreed. So, yesterday afternoon he told me he was over at her place trying to convince her to call me, but she wouldn’t. He called me after and said her place was wide open (patio door & window) and he could’ve easily climbed down into her patio which is partially underground like a cellar. Then, he suggested we go over there and we did.

She flipped and ran into her bedroom and shut the bedroom door. All the while screaming mainly at me. I told him to climb into her place, but cuz it was broad daylight he wouldn’t. We ran to her bedroom window trying to convince her to call me, but she kept running at the mouth.

We left and we agreed he’d go to her place and that he’d call me. She will invite him in, too. I only hope she doesn’t have blocks, as she seems the type who’d get them. Meanwhile, we got her apartment number. I never knew her last name which I guess begins with a C. That’s OK, though, cuz as long as I got her apartment number I’ll type Eloisa and a last name beginning with a C.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 17, 1993 As of yesterday, Andy’s been here for two years. I’ve been here 9 months and 8 days.

I have so many topics to discuss, so I’ll just run right down the list.

Yesterday at 4:30 PM Andy took me to the Mile High Club where Crystal (Scott’s girlfriend) works. Even from the outside, before we went inside, I could see how much classier it is. The inside is so much nicer. Classier, fancier and bigger. There’s only one huge stage and that’s good, so we have more time to get table dances.

A guy named Mark, who seems very nice, hired me. First, we spoke and then I danced to a Madonna song. I wasn’t one bit nervous. Just like at Sha Na Na’s the girls seemed very nice and said don’t hesitate to ask any questions.

The dressing room’s so much bigger and nicer. We won’t have to be climbing over each other and we even have our own lockers. This is great, and I’ll use my combination lock so I don’t have to keep my key on me. It’s also nice that I won’t have to lug all my shit home with me every night. Just the stuff I need to wash.

It’s still under the table and you have no bar tip! All you’re recommended to give is a little something to the DJ.

I’ll be working Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday from 6 PM - 1 AM. I’ll be doing Andy’s laundry for him once again, in exchange for rides to work. Steve, who I just paged, will be picking me up. I gave him my schedule and he’s still gonna flat rate me $5. It’s normally an $8 - $10 fare.

The two months of experience at Sha Na Na’s sure helps. When Mark said not to forget my latex, it was good to be able to say, “I know,” instead of, “What’s that?”

Later…

I just had half of a cigarette. They’re long 120s. Now I’m microwaving bacon.

I got another kitten plate in the mail, so now I have two. They’re cute.

A guy named Greg whom I met at the pool last summer was gonna take me to the doctor, but Angel and Brian were available to do it. I gave them $3, some coffee and some hot chocolate.

Later…

About my doctor’s appointment, well, it was a little surprising. First of all, he ended up doing an unexpected pelvic exam which didn’t hurt at all. I am infected and I’ve got to call them Fri. as well as figure out what to do. The doctor says it hasn’t been treated right. Well, that’s obvious since no creams or antibiotics would work. My tits are fine. Just the usual obnoxious soreness and swelling before my period. My luck will be that I’ll get my period for my first night of work.

My allergies and asthma are much better than they were from mid-October to late January, but November and December were the worst months.

I’m starting to feel more comfortable with this doctor. It usually takes a while. He was shocked when I told him about the dancing as he’s only seen my shy side that only comes out with doctors. Everyone who knows me knows I’m far from shy.

Stacey explained how it works for a subleaser. They’d pay $297 and they’d have 8 months added on after June 30th. Speaking of Stacey, well, so she seems friendlier to my face, but it’s ironic how Gordy talks really loud by my bedroom window at 7:30 in the morning. Maybe it’s Stacey’s orders or on maintenance alone. But, then again, Andy got the same shit when he was working 3rd shift before I ever got here.

The weather was funny today. It’s been in the 80s for two weeks. Today and yesterday it even felt a little muggy and I had the AC on here and there. Right now it’s beautiful, dry and not too cool or too hot, but I think it’s gonna rain. New England’s now having what they’re calling the storm of the century. I mean, they haven’t had this much snow since the late 60s - early 70s. They have over two feet all through the east coast! Lisa and Becky’s school has been canceled. What perfect timing for me to get the hell out! I’d be stranded and even more of a caged animal, even if I did have a car.

Andy and Tammy had an excellent talk with me listening without Tammy’s knowledge. It was funny how Tammy said Becky said, “This boy Kenny. I think he has a black face, but I like him anyway.”

They talked about the weather, my dancing and this and that. Andy mentioned Scott, too. When Andy mentioned my being in shape, Tammy said, “At least one of us is.”

Then, when I went to signal him to hang up I didn’t want to hit buttons on the phone, so I slammed my closet door. He said, “I hear someone slamming their closet door and it doesn’t bother me, but it’d make Jodi furious.”

Tammy says, “After Norwich, it sure would.”

Earlier today I spoke to mom for the last time in a while. She’s such a never-ending, never-changing bitch. They’re happy I’m happy dancing, but in her eyes, I’m just never good enough no matter what I do and I’m sure she expects me to fall flat on my ass and fail. Yeah, I’ve failed and given up on stuff before, but that was then, this is now. I appreciate all her material and financial help, but I need a break from even talking to the bitch. Dad and Tammy are a whole different ball game. They’re very supportive and positive.

Mary’s coming up from downstairs, so I’ll write later.

Later…

I just reorganized my workbag. It’ll be easier using the combination lock and hanging some of my costumes up on the hooks inside my locker. Until I have more shoes and more G-strings, all I’ll take home in a smaller bag will be my shoes and G-strings and stockings to wash. I don’t remember, but I hope there’s a shelf in the locker for my little stuff like makeup, deodorant, brush, money, etc.

I have a half-hour before I watch TV, so I’ll write about Mary’s visit.

Before I do, though, I blasted out the post office today. A million others here, along with the office have too. Pete left and we haven’t a regular carrier yet and they’re screwing up everyone’s mail. I’m missing a phone bill, I believe. I also think I may be missing my TV guide. I left a note saying, “Put my damn mail in my box. Not on top of all the mailboxes and not in someone else’s!”

I also got a call that was out of area, according to my box. It probably was Fran or Nervous, but I left Fran a message to let me know if he got the journals.

Leanne hasn’t called, but Julia did. She was crying cuz she was upset with some guy. She said, “I don’t mean to keep you hanging. I can’t say I’ll never be with a woman. I’m sure women are better cuz they’re more sensitive, easier to deal with and I’m sure better in bed, but right now I’m so hurt and I don’t want to see anyone.” I told her I was a good listener if she ever wanted to call, nothing’s too blunt or personal, and she can take her time cuz I know exactly how fucked people are.

Mary and I went to the office for part of their 6-foot sub and other goodies, like cake, ice cream and cookies. All this week they’re having things going on due to St. Patty’s day. Yesterday was car wash day. Andy got his washed. Saturday’s free carnations. I think tomorrow’s free coffee and donuts.

I’ll write more about what Mary and I discussed later on after my shows.

MONDAY, MARCH 15, 1993 I am now out on my patio, but it’s too hot and uncomfortable writing with no table. I have moved right inside to my kitchen table.

Scott came over at 10:00 last night. He was unable to go to church as he had to go repair a government home that was broken into.

I wonder, along with him, just how dependable these elderly people are gonna be from his church. He knows a lot of people but doesn’t really have the time to get ahold of them as far as taking over my place.

SUNDAY, MARCH 14, 1993 It is amazing as all hell, but this weekend Andi’s been quiet. She’s been in and out all weekend.

The guy below me is never home which is fine with me.

I hope to hear from Scott by 5:00 or so. I do have a good feeling, but I want to hear him tell me I’m out of here. The office has to approve them and I hope they don’t take their sweet time and stall or get in the way of anything. Since I let Stacey have it last October she hasn’t messed with me, and Paula and Judy are no problem.

I left some edits on Mary’s machine as I said I would. I can’t wait till Scott hears the edits. I’ve told him all about them and I edited him leaving a message on my VM.

The weather’s unlike it has been in the last two weeks. It was in the 80s and very warm. Today’s cloudy and slightly damp and chilly. It’s 77º, but of course, here that feels like 67º. Tonight will be chilly and I may turn my heat on during the very early morning hours. It’ll be the high 40s to low 50s tonight no doubt.

No one’s at the pool today.

Andy fell asleep last night when I called, so we’ll talk later. From 7:00-10:00, I won’t be talking to anyone. There’s a movie I want to see, as well as some other show on channel 3, which we never could figure out how to program into the VCR. It’s nice having Caller ID so I can see who’s calling unless they have blocks.

Just when it looks like the sun’s gonna creep out, it gets cloudy. My patio is so beautiful, though. It’s so green with it being surrounded by trees. I hope my new apartment will have the most private patio as well as the most private and quiet apartment I’m sitting at my table now with my sliding door open. I just realized how wide those doors are in my new apartment I could just yank this table out whenever I want to write outside. I do want to get another table, though.

Well, I’ve got the munchies again, so I shall go eat.

Later…

Right now I’m getting pretty pissed. Scott hasn’t called and I’m tired of playing this waiting game. If no one takes this apartment, I’m moving anyway. The bitch next door’s back to doing her usual tap dance. Although it’s mild, I’m gonna be knocking on the inside of my door the next time I’m up past midnight.

Watch Scott call during tonight’s movie since I can’t record it.

Andy went out to dinner, but a few hours ago he heard my latest edition of edits. Mainly him singing the Funny Farm song and other stuff, Scott, and us coughing.

I did tons of letter-writing today and that’s pretty much all I did. I ate a lot and watched the shows I taped last night.

Nervous and Fran are getting no more letters from me. They never write to me, I’m bored and sick of writing to them as its fun has worn off and that’ll leave me more time to do other stuff. I’ll only write to my parents, Lisa and Becky (who get one letter for both of them), Kim, Bob and Tammy. So, that totals 7 letters, but 5 people. I won’t be writing as often as I have been.

SATURDAY, MARCH 13, 1993 I hope Scott calls soon to tell me if he’s got someone taking over my apartment. He called two nights ago saying he spoke to several people and he’s got positive news. I hope so. This morning he left a message saying he’d call right about now or tomorrow.

Christina, the housekeeper, left me a huge box with smaller boxes inside them. I’ve told several people to leave me boxes if they can.

Friday I was at the pool as well as today and the last 4-5 days. I’ve met some nice new people as well as chatted with people I’ve known. Stephanie and I had a great two-hour talk yesterday.

Leanne left a message saying she’d not only been busy with the move but had strep throat. Once again, I’m not bothering with her for the same old reason. She sounds fine now and if she really wanted to see me, she’d have done so by now. Again, you can maybe get lucky enough to have them call and hit it off over the phone, but good luck getting them to your door and following through from there. People, man, I’ll tell ya. If she calls again I’m telling her what I just wrote and that I’m calling it quits.

I left Julia a message, too. No calls from her either.

Andy may call any minute, and due to the fact that everything happens at once, Scott will call at the same time.

My mom left a message right before I awoke at 10:00. A letter to them was returned to me and I left a message asking why. She said she had no idea why and that they were fine. Then, it was pretty funny as she didn’t hang up the phone all the way. The bummer was, though, that she caught it soon enough afterward.

I got some of the color back that I lost, but I’m gonna be careful. I don’t want sun poisoning or skin cancer.

Tonya was over two days ago for a reading. We had a chat for a half-hour or so.

Kara may be returning to Michigan for a while to get her diploma there, then return here to go to the police academy.

I was over at Diane’s again today for coffee. We had a nice chat, too.

It’s a miracle and a half, but Andi was out all day (next door). I hope she doesn’t make up for today’s peace and quiet by flipping out all day tomorrow. That’s all I need unless she goes to church.

I called information last night after realizing I misspelled her name and that’s why I couldn’t get the number. I’m surprised she’s even listed, but I left her some spitting, as well as Mary Had a Little Lamb with the phone keys, and also had Kara say, “Payback’s a bitch.”

I almost forgot, but when I called Julia today, I’d planned on playing Mary Had a Little Lamb after I hit the first 4 keys, but her messages played. How neat. Just like Fran. She had a message to call her from a Barb and one from US West to get caller ID.

Last night Andy and I tried calling Nervous and got no answer. We then called Fran and got his machine. I hit *37 and there was a message from a girl. It appears that once again he took in some creep who ripped him off, but that’ll always be Fran for you. A major sucker. I recorded this girl’s message and edited it onto his machine. He is not gonna be expecting that! Andy and I were cracking up. I did quite a bit of editing today and I promised to leave some on Mary’s machine.

We went grocery shopping, but I’ll write about that later.

A note from Andy…

Andy was here on December 4, 1992. In his living room with his stomach growling because he is starving. The phone just rang and Jodi wants me to cook pork chops. But they take 45 minutes to cook ‘em my way. I am starving do you understand? Last night I drove up to Camelback Mountain to be part of the clouds. I stood for a long while in the drizzle, dreaming of my wanton luxury. Let’s do some handy things together. Thank you, God, for sending my best companion to me!

Later…

Any minute I’ll be chatting with Andy, so I will write till then. That is unless he already fell asleep.

Andy gave me a good idea. He said it’d probably be better for Bill T to see what I look like. And by the way, it’s Bill/Mark Productions. I mentioned this idea to Scott who I spoke to a little while ago. He agreed, so I’m gonna give him a picture of me to send to Bill.

Scott says he’s gonna see these two elderly people in church tomorrow about my place. Let’s hope all goes well, but I do finally have a very very good vibe.

He’s also gonna buy my food stamps from me to send to his son in Michigan. He said this way he knows only food can be bought with it. At the grocery store, I bought (besides food) two new bottles of nail polish. My favorite colors which just dried out; fire engine red and burgundy. A package of 48 colorful envelopes. Wild Musk perfume which is mild and doesn’t set off my allergies as much.

Mary also told me she went to a psychic fair and was told the same things I told her.

I still have no idea as to who left me those hair care products. Everyone I know would tell me they left it if they did, so I guess a stranger left it, but that doesn’t seem right either. Does Andy know something about this? Does it have to do with Velma? He not only sides with those I’m upset with, but he also tries to fix shit between us. More and more he’s bringing up shit about Velma. This really irks me, but I try to ignore it. The last person I want to associate with is a stingy selfish bitch.

I’ll try calling him now. If his machine comes on, then he obviously fell asleep. Then, I’ll go watch all the shows I’ve recorded and write letters.

THURSDAY, MARCH 11, 1993 I’m sitting here by my building on the utility box hoping my cab gets here soon enough and doesn’t forget or get lost. I called Brian and Angel and they said they could probably pick me up if I can’t get a ride again from that new waitress and her mother as I did yesterday. I went over to Brian and Angel’s apartment yesterday. If they’re around whenever I need a ride while I still live here, they’ll drive me.

I’ve been up since 4:30 and I’m somewhat tired. By the time my shift ends, I’ll be beat. Then, if I must work the PM shift tomorrow night, I’ll have to try to hold out at least until midnight.

Not only can I not wait to move, but I also can’t wait to quit Sha Na Na’s and transfer. I know it’ll be deader than dead just like it was yesterday so I brought a notebook. I’ll copy whatever I write into my journal cuz there’s no way I’d bring it to work in case anything happened to it.

God, please let that cab be here on time! They do this shit to me every time I call for one.

I hope Scott does make it in today. I could use a friend coming in there and also one who’ll never let me go home broke.

Unfortunately, I am kind of tired and that sucks. I’ll have to get some coffee as soon as I get there.

Here comes sweet little old Stacey. She said hello in a friendly voice as she walked by with two potential residents. Residents who will never know just how thin the walls are unless they move in.

Later…

I am at work now where there is only one fucking customer! God, I hope Scott comes in!

Luckily my cab driver got there on time, but not Charles. Some other guy came and he hated Vista Ventana and moved, too. I’ve spoken to numerous people who don’t like VV for the same reasons I don’t.

They’re remodeling here. They connected the 3 stages. Good idea. There are more mirrors, too.

I’m now sitting at the back of the bar at a table, thanking God I brought a notebook. If I don’t copy what I’ve written into my journal after work, then I will soon.

Omar was here, then he left, so who knows what the hell’s going on with my schedule? I’ve already done my set, but after two more songs, it’ll be my turn again on stage. There are only 5 girls here right now which doesn’t matter since it’ll be dead. There are Dee Dee, Venus, Debbie, Storm and I. There are way too many girls on the PM shift. That’s for damn sure. There are 3 DJs. Andy, Tracy (who I call Billy cuz he looks like Billy Ray Cyrus) and Phil. Billy was here yesterday. Andy came in for his paycheck and to bum a smoke off of me, not that I mind. Phil’s on today. He asked me what kind of music I like since he’s never DJ’d with me working. I told him I hate heavy metal and to play dance music and country. I named singers I like. I was the first dancer up before our one customer came in. Phil tipped me a buck. Wow, I just noticed we have two more customers. Wowee, like it’ll help much. How do these dancers pay their bills?

Later…

I just did my second set and got $3 for it. Some long-time regular just brought in tons of chicken wings and grinders. That was great cuz I was starving. There are a few more customers in here now and I believe I have a table dance for the next song. There are only 4 customers in here now.

I still have some letter writing to do as well as editing, as always. After I copy this into my journal I’m sure the no-postage-necessary people will want to hear from me.

I just did my much-needed table dance and after the next song, my third set’s up. For the last set, as I was getting on stage, Phil said, “Mystery, you’ve been here two months and I’ve been here two years and we haven’t worked together yet.” Afterward, he complimented me on my dancing. Yes, I can feel and see that difference in my body and my dancing. I’m much more limber.

I’ve only gotten two table dances so far and this really sucks what with how dead it is here. Next song is my fourth set. Each girl’s doing two songs.

I hope Scott comes in. Omar’s back, but he’s busy with the guys who are remodeling.

Later…

Right after I last wrote I went up on stage and Scott came in. If he didn’t come in I’d have $4 after tip out, but he threw $70 on me! How cool, huh?

We had a great talk for an hour or so. He feels I probably will be out on the 15th. He also says he has a really strong feeling within two weeks I’ll be going to L.A. He said if worse comes to worst as far as them taking their sweet time, he will personally take me out to their studios in May.

I just thank God for 95% happiness all the time now, rather than 95% misery.

Scott says my black cat’s doing fine and I came up with the perfect name for him. Especially an all-black cat. My stage name… Mystery.

I hope Kara stopped by to pick up those blankets.

If all goes well, I’ll only have one more weekend of listening to the bitch next door pummel the walls, floors and whatever the hell it is she does to create so much fucking banging.

I’ll be calling Bob during the day Friday. Bob, the bartender, that is. I told him to put me back on 4 nights a week, but no Saturdays or Mondays.

I am just so happy now. I’ve been depressed or anxious only a few times since I’ve been here, but it passed quickly. It was mainly over money. Also wondering what the hell I was gonna do with my life and how the hell I’d ever get a connection with the singing. Thanks to Tonya who started all this. Without her, there’d be no dancing, no money, no peace of mind, no Scott, no Capitol, no new apartment. No, money’s not everything, but it sure does help. If I didn’t want to be a singer or do anything else, this is where I’d stay. Maybe not in this particular club, but I’d never stop dancing.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 10, 1993 Yesterday I awoke at 5:00 and I went into Sha Na Na’s for the noon - 6:30 shift and made shitty money. I’m going in at noon today too, and Omar’s going to change my schedule. I cannot work Saturday and Monday.

Scott has round two with the IRS this Thursday. He still doesn’t know where he stands with them.

Still have no idea when my lease will be taken over, but I hope real soon.

For some unknown reason, I got a letter I’d sent to my parents returned to me. I called and left them a message to let me know if they know anything about it.

No calls from Ellie, Julia or Leanne.

Later…

I just put in a personal call to Charles, my new day driver for 11:30. He drives the same cab Steve drives at night.

Andy’s still asleep and God only knows how with the outside noise here and there. Must’ve smoked lots of pot.

Kara will be stopping over to pick up two blankets I don’t want. I left them outside my door. Kara may be going home to Michigan for a while.

Scott called and he may stop in today. Scott’s talking to people today about my apartment.

MONDAY, MARCH 8, 1993 Saturday morning I asked Kara to tell me if she felt I’m gonna move on March 15th or April 1st. She felt the 15th. I sure hope so. Kara’s just as psychic as me and so is John. I always wanted to meet someone at my level to consult with from one psychic to another.

After Kara and I spoke, I called Tammy and she asked me to try to tell her if she’d be getting a job. I wasn’t able to see what the job was, but I felt it was 40 minutes away and required traveling. That much was right. I told her I had a very good vibe for the job. She’d get a call about it Monday between 10 AM-noon and fix whatever may be wrong with her van. I also could see a guy in his 40s, average height and weight, dark hair, slight bald spot, dark eyes, dark-rimmed glasses, and a heavy-set black woman.

I thought I saw her arguing with a blond in a grocery store, but she said she’d had a friendly chat with this woman.

Then, I called Kara and we called her and I told Tammy that Kara’s a lot like me and we consult one another. Kara and I agreed on everything, but one thing. Finally, Tammy told us it was a job doing security. Kara said she saw that as well as carrying a gun. Maybe the reason why I had a strong vibe was cuz she definitely has the looks and the image of a security guard. About as much as I look like a singer and a dancer.

I told her to give up Avon as I see it to be a pain in the ass that’s not profitable. Tammy says she’ll let me know.

Saturday night at around 8:00 I went to the Jacuzzi. Sue, Steve, Angel, Brian, their baby and some other guy were there. We had a nice chat and they were happy for me about the dancing, Capitol, and the new apartment

It’s amazing how many people don’t like it here for the same reasons I don’t. They all complain about the walls being too thin.

If I could’ve slept till 3:00 tonight, I’d have gone to work today from noon - 6:30, but I awoke at 11:20 PM. I still don’t know if I’ll be returning to Sha Na Na’s, typing for Scott, or transferring if he can drive me to and from work while I still live here. He called right before I woke up and said he’d call tomorrow. I hope things rule in his favor.

Last night John called from Circle K and Steve was there too. I spoke to both of them telling them everything’s up in the air at the moment.

I’ll be sending Fran the old little journals. I’ll get 5 stamps from the office today.

I neglected the plant my parents sent me on my B-Day, so I trimmed all the dead leaves. I also took the flowered bow out of the plant and unraveled it. It’s quite long and I’ll use it for some kind of decoration after I move.

I got 3 NPN envelopes and I stuffed in pictures Andy didn’t want.

Andy says Velma is still looking into a straightening iron for me, but I’m not paying for it. She is to pay for it, otherwise, forget it.

Later…

At about 10:00 yesterday morning, I ran into Diane on my way back from my mailbox. She’s the one I’ve seen a couple of times in the laundry room and she met Stephanie. You surely can tell she’s gay, but she’s not pitifully ugly. Not as ugly as the bitch next door. She came up to see my studio, then she invited me to her place for coffee. I was shocked at how clean, neat and well-decorated her apartment is. We sat on her porch and had a nice talk. She’s 29, athletic like most of them are, and sober. Being able to read people well, I figured she was sober. She goes to school and works in the medical records dept. at Baptist Hospital. She also has a car and goes to bed early and gets up early. She’s single now but was once in a relationship for 4 years. I can see that, due to her plain looks and she does seem relationship-oriented. She also seems like a very good, stable, mature person. We exchanged numbers, then I went to the pool. There were several people there. Sharon, who I met in August was there with her little girl and boy. We chatted for a while and I was there for a little over an hour. I did get some color, but not enough to brag about. Tomorrow will be better for hanging out at the pool. No one will be there, but the people who mow the lawns will be out and about everywhere.

I’ll write more after I go eat and boy am I ever hungry.

Later…

I just had two pieces of fried chicken and soon I’ll have another “cough of cuppee.”

What the hell was that that just sounded like something hit the roof?

I haven’t heard at all from Leanne for over a week. She must be either extremely busy or has chickened out. And Andy thought I’d chicken out. Maybe she lost my number during her move. Who knows?

Julia called me a week ago. I’ll call both of them just as soon as I know what’s going on with me.

When the hell am I going to L.A.? John, Kara and I feel it’s positive with a positive outcome. We all feel in a month I’ll be there, but I want to go now!

About a week ago I had a nice chat with my dad about dancing, the apartment and Capitol.

It’s 6:00 back east and Tammy and the rest of the family are getting up around this time. I sure hope in the next 4-6 hours she gets called about that job so I don’t make an ass of myself. I’ve never really predicted events for someone 3,000 miles away, although it’s not impossible.

Another sound from the roof. It sounded like it cracked. Let’s hope not while I’m still here.

Later…

Yes! I called Sprint about that $100 deposit and it was a mistake on their end. She said to disregard the letter. Damn right, I will.

Today I’ll leave that note I said I’d leave on Ellie’s door.

Later…

I just completed another edit tape. It sure is less confusing and much easier dealing with all my tapes now that I finally got them all organized. I left Andy the latest edition of edits on his VM along with tons of other messages. Soon, I’ll tape the 7 saved messages from my VM to be edited. One’s of Scott and the rest are of Andy burping, coughing and singing.

We made a deal that while we weren’t home or were asleep we’d pull our phones off the hook. That way we wouldn’t have to wait for it to ring and ring and our messages would go off after only one ring. I also discovered it’ll skip our messages if we hit the pound key as soon as it starts. There’s only one unfortunate problem with taking my phone off the hook. When I do that my Caller ID doesn’t work cuz it takes at least two rings, whether the ringer’s on or off to activate the Caller ID box. No numbers will appear on the screen. I never know when or who may call with a name and number I wish to know about. Unless they have a blocking option. I hope Ellie calls and has no blocking. After putting the note on her door I must keep my phone on the hook and answer after two rings. If you’re sitting right there looking at the box, you’ll see the number appear. If they’ve got blocks it’ll say, “private name - private number.” It says their name, the date, time of call, and the number. Sometimes it may not register, so it’ll say error. It also has a button on the bottom for English or Spanish.

I think (but I’m not sure) I hear the guy below me. I’ve been very lucky with him so far. He’s never home and is very quiet. Andi next door makes up for him. But I sure hope just the same he can’t hear me at night. I accidentally dropped a plate last night so I hope he’s a heavy sleeper or just doesn’t care. Yes, I definitely hear him now in his cabinets. The floors seem just as thin as the walls. I wonder if he heard the edits while I was recording them on Andy’s VM.

I wish I could get Andi’s number, as well as Rosemarie’s. But when I’m gone they’ll get mail.

Later…

I am shocked at how many people are at the pool today on a Monday. Quite a few. Stephanie, Tara and Linda were there along with others I’ve seen before but I can’t remember their names.

It is hot today at 85º. This feels so weird for it being February 8th and knowing Tammy’s cold back in CT.

I didn’t get too much color. It’s hard to keep up the patience to just lay there.

The mail’s either late or I didn’t get anything. Stephanie says there’s a new mailman.

I swept my patio and ditched my raft. There’s a hole in it somewhere and I’d like to get a bigger raft.

I left a message on Leanne and Julia’s machines.

I sure hope Tammy got that security guard job she wanted and that Scott’s meeting is going well. I spoke to him at 8:30 this morning. He said his meeting begins at 10:30 and probably won’t end till 7:30. I told him to leave a message if I don’t answer. Two people from his church are to be calling him tomorrow about taking over my lease.

Andy left a TV guide and some hair and skin care products outside my door. There were 4 tiny little bottles. There was shampoo, conditioner, bath or shower gel and lotion. That was nice.

Around 9:00 or so I left Ellie her note. At first, I thought she moved, as the table I flipped wasn’t there. Nothing was outside the door, but then I saw her through the sides of the blinds in her kitchen. I still haven’t gotten a call from her. I’m actually surprised she hasn’t called with her being the desperate Fran/Nervous type. We’ll see.

Later…

I am out on my patio now. It is gorgeous. I am beginning to get very very sleepy. Soon I must hit the sack. I will have some coffee then I’ll watch TV till I can no longer keep my eyes open. Writing is almost hypnotizing when you’re tired. Your eyes stare blankly at the paper while the pen flows and flows away.

What a huge patio I’ll have when I move. I’m gonna get a table so I can write a little easier. It’s a little awkward and uncomfortable writing with the book on my lap. It causes me to write sloppier, too. Plus, I’m so beat. The sun sure drains you. I feel as if I did get some color, yet I have no new, real distinct tan lines. I feel and look solid and muscular, but I have no problem with that. Especially for a girl of 90-something pounds who’s 4’ 11”.

I went to the office to get a stamp and Paula ended up chatting with me. She and Judy really are very nice. If Stacey were a staff member in some place like Valleyhead or Brattleboro, I’d pity those kids! Not that I don’t anyway, and there are definitely enough Staceys working in these places who don’t belong. Stacey would be a carbon copy of Donna A, her sister Margaret, and Barbara D.

I should go record my phone messages into my box now.

SUNDAY, MARCH 7, 1993 Yesterday was a shitty day. Two mornings ago, which would’ve been very early Saturday morning at 3 AM, I fell asleep. I had weird dreams and was wide awake an hour later. At 10:30 I began to get sleepy, but sure enough, the bitch next door began her slamming, ramming and banging. Sundays she’s out a lot, but is this bitch ever gonna sit still on a Saturday? How can a person make so much fucking noise while they’re cleaning? At 6:00 this morning I knocked really loud on the inside of my door. I’m sure that woke her up and she wondered whose door it was. Our doors are so close. I’m gonna knock even earlier this morning once an hour, and this bitch has to work tomorrow.

I finally fell asleep yesterday at 12:30 and then Andy fucking came in and shook me awake. I told him never to do that again unless I told him to. He may be coming down with another cold. I hope I don’t. An hour after he woke me up I fell back asleep till 9:30. I was beat.

I spoke with Scott who I may see tonight, but it depends on when and how long I sleep. I hope he’s got good news on a person taking over my lease. I also hope his meeting with the IRS Monday goes well and that I can type for him, move, then transfer to a better club.

If I can get up tonight no earlier than 3 AM, I may go during the day tomorrow to Sha Na Na’s.

Early yesterday morning I took a chance at Kara being home and she was. She said her trip to Vegas sucked. She and her girlfriend’s mother had it out and she says she’s running for her life. She even mentioned going back to Michigan to live. I told her it’ll blow over. This must really be serious for a tough girl like her to be intimidated.

Her sister Stacey was there and told Kara about dancing at Sha Na Na’s. She left, however, for the same reasons I’d like to transfer whether or not I’m moving. Bad publicity due to the raids, a lot of people resent Arabs and they also have way too many girls there. She’s now at the Ex-Caliber.

SATURDAY, MARCH 6, 1993 I am pissed! I fell asleep at 3:00 and I only slept an hour. Fuck that shit! All I know is that I was having weird dreams.

The proofs came out OK. Andy took me to my 7:30 appointment last night. The one I chose has me leaning on my side with my hair flowing down my side.

After that, he and I went to a restaurant called J.B.’s. It was so-so, but we really loved the Black-Eyed Pea.

I took an hour and 40 minutes to cut coupons for him. He was quite pleased.

He also gave me some blooper photos and also photos he doesn’t want. I’ll split them up between Kim, Bob, Fran and Nervous.

I spoke to Kim for 15 minutes before we left for Valley West Mall. She’s not as stable emotionally and financially as she’d like to be.

I’m gonna bitch out Sprint next Monday. They sent me a letter saying they need a $100 deposit. I’ve had their service now for a month and now they’re telling me this?! I’m gonna give them an ultimatum. To either go shove their $100 or I don’t want their service.

Later…

I’m still up and furious so I called Nervous. We had a nice talk about our lives in general.

I put the radio on the stereo softly since I don’t know if Andi or anyone else is gonna decide to rock the building. The true test will be this weekend, but so far, and with very much thanks to Mary, Andi’s been quieter. Also thanks to “Daryl’s” note. She’s been getting up quieter during the weekdays.

I hope I get enough sleep cuz I really want to work tonight. I was gonna wait till I heard from Scott, but I decided not to.

I made another big mistake with Andy. I gave him Scott’s number to his beeper about Scott fixing his VCR. With Scott’s permission, but that’s not the point. The point is, is that no matter how much Andy promises not to talk about me (other than just trivial and general stuff), he will. And the bulk of it will be negative shit about me or personal. I have no problem with telling friends my personal ups and downs, but from my mouth only, when I’m ready to and in the mood. They haven’t gotten together yet, but they’re bound to sooner or later.

Anyway, here are the names of some of the dancers where I work: René, Alex, Toni, Pearl, Diamond, Ruby, Brandy, Storm, Venus, Christine, Pebbles, Danya, Rena, Corey, Dawn, Dee Dee, Alicia, Donna, Dallas, Tracy, Susie, Crystal, Ronnie and that’s all I care to think of at the moment.

I really must try to hit the sack.

FRIDAY, MARCH 5, 1993 While I’m watching TV I’m gonna write. Tomorrow Andy and I are going to the mall where I’m going to pick out one of the 10 pictures that were taken of me.

I’m also gonna buy him a silk shirt which he wanted for his birthday.

Saturday night I’m probably gonna go to Sha Na Na’s. This way I can still have more income till I know when I’m gonna move for sure. After I move I’ll transfer.

I can’t wait to get into this gorgeous apartment!

THURSDAY, MARCH 4, 1993 Once again, I have so much updating to do. I mean, I am swamped with it, let alone with the other things I’m working on. I have a major project going on now with my journals. I have 4 little books which I don’t like and no longer want. Number 8 was mostly all phone numbers. I’ve gone and copied them into number 18. I took two of the big books I just got and in one of them, I copied the old number 10. I also numbered the new big one number 10. Then, I took one other big book and numbered it number 5. I’m now almost halfway through number 6. I threw out number 8, but when I have all 3 (5, 6 & 10) copied, I’m sending them to Fran.

I met the guy (Dave) who just moved in down below me. He seems nice and the great thing about it is that he’s never home just like Jeff. He also didn’t make too much noise the day he moved in which was the 1st.

I’m lucky in that area, but I finally reached my breaking point with Andi, the bitch next door. Ever since I turned her in and bitched cuz of the herd of kids, she’s been getting up real early very noisily, slamming and banging. She also shakes the building very early on the weekends. I spoke to Mary and asked her how she was dealing with the situation and she was pissed off too, and has had it herself with the bitch. She told me how she needs her rest on the weekends so she can be rested enough to handle the weekdays. I told her there was no way my bitching was gonna change things and that I knew this was all aimed at me cuz of the herd of kids I bitched out. Then, I realized that Mary could either fuel her further, as obviously, this bitch has a problem with getting complaints. Or she could make her realize her aiming her shit on me was affecting Mary who also has CP and get her to shut the fuck up. So, last Sunday Mary went up there and basically laid it out on the line. She told me she was nice about it and would be quieter, but we’ll see. Meanwhile, she fucked me out of work last weekend and that doesn’t set really well with me.

After I move I’m gonna take real good care of her. I’m gonna have Andy leave her notes on her door as well as possibly have Kara egg her patio or truck or do something messy.

Now to speak of Kara – well – who knows where she is? She’ll contact me sooner or later as she wouldn’t just drop completely out of my life, but I’m not sure if she’s in Vegas. If she said she went, then she did, but Laurie told me an interesting story. She said that she ran into Kara’s mother and she said she took all her stuff and split. I know her mother could be a bitch and that they didn’t always get along, but where could she or would she go?

Mary also took me food shopping the other day and she was up here for a visit and for me to give her a reading. I told her I had an 80% accuracy and she’s happy with that.

Later…

I almost forgot to mention one other thing about Andi next door. I totally disguised my handwriting and wrote her a note from “Daryl,” the guy who moved in next to Andy and behind her. It wrote: I recently moved in behind you in the front of the building. I realize you get up very early during the weekdays and I don’t get up till 9:00. Please try getting up quietly as well as early on the weekends.

She oughta love that.

Next Sunday I should know from Scott who’s gonna be taking over my lease and when, as well as if I can type for him. Well, I’ll find out about the typing Monday. I asked if I could type for him with or without the dancing for $600 a month. He said yes and that is what he pays his secretaries who are in Michigan, where he’s from. I have a plan that I hope I can follow, but like I said, I won’t know for sure till next Monday. I’ll explain why I won’t know till next Monday later, but here’s my plan. To quit Sha Na Na’s and type for him while I still live here. Why? For 3 reasons. One is cuz I never know if I can sleep without being woken up here during the day. It’s a 50/50 hit-or-miss deal. Two is cuz after I do move, I want to work at a club closer to where I’ll be living. Three is cuz I want to work at a classier club where I’ll make more money. I think there are two reasons why Sha Na Na’s doesn’t do too well. The publicity of the raids in their other clubs doesn’t help much. Also, Omar and Dave are Arabs and so many people hate them.

Steve said he’d still flat rate me $5, but I’d prefer a 5-10-minute ride to and from work, rather than a 20-25.

Also, there’s this classier club where Scott’s sort of seeing someone who’s working there. She’s making way more than I am. I’ve still been earning much much more than the average person, but not as much as I thought I’d be and that I know is possible. It’s possible to take home $100 or more after tip-out and that’s exactly what I want to do. On top of everything else, I still don’t think I’ll be dancing for too much longer anyway. Hopefully, real soon the music will be taking over. It’s a waiting game in the beginning just like Scott said, but once things begin, they should really roll. I always envisioned that once I got my foot in the door things would roll fast from there. And that I wouldn’t have to struggle for years and years. I still have to go through the steps just like everyone else, though. Scott’s word is very dependable about Bill T and he’s always come through on everything he��s told me so far. I guess I might start out backing up other big celebrities since you usually don’t start out on the front lines anyway.

When I was sick with the flu, Scott called me to tell me he’d just gotten out of the ER. He told me he saw 3 guys try to force a woman into their car and he stepped in using his martial arts, even though he did get banged up a bit. He managed to save the woman who’d call to thank him every two hours and the police were very pleased.

Then, also while I was sick, he came over with $100 of food! That was really very nice of him.

Later…

At 6:30 my time this morning I called Barbara at 8:30 her time. Marie was there too who also lives there, but we never spoke. I asked Barbara if she knew who I was. At first, she didn’t but then it hit her and she said, “Oh, you fucking asshole! I’ve been dealing with you since you left and at that time everything was fine.”

I asked her how life in CT was and she said she wished I were there so she could kick my ass and I just laughed. She also asked me why I sent Debbie shit and what I got against her. I told her that this coming June 15th I’d be there to take care of her. She asked if I was gonna bring my little buddies and then she just basically cussed me out telling me I should’ve died back when I was in the hospital, I don’t know how to be awake, all I know how to do is be up all night.

Andy’s right. After it’s all over is when you wish you’d taped it.

Well, now that I’m 110% sure I’ll never see the remaining ¾ of my picture collection my mom ditched, no matter what anyone says about it, I went and killed off the rest of my collection. I did hang onto a few pictures, but as I said before, I want all of my collection, not part of it. I know what Tammy and my dad would and wouldn’t do, but I also know how my mom operates. It’s totally her style to do something like this to me. One last chance to control and take away something she knows I love.

I don’t know if I wrote about Scott’s past at all yet, but I’ll just go through the whole story. Well, most people can’t remember exactly what they were doing on a certain day 6 months ago. Most people don’t keep journals like I do. He once had a couple million that his ex-wife fucked him completely out of. His ex and a detective framed him for arson which he never committed. While he was out of state getting a speeding ticket by the highway patrol, a house on his street was being lit on fire. Somehow his ex and this detective made it look like he did it and he ended up in jail for two years. Meanwhile, his dad got a letter about this ticket he never paid. He noticed it was at the same time this fire was lit and they gathered a successful appeal and he got out of prison. While in prison, his ex destroyed all his tax, business and work records from the businesses he owned as well as stole all his money. Right at this moment, he’s trying to gather all the proof he needs to show the IRS he did pay his taxes from 1986 to 1991. He has a meeting with them next Monday. I have a good vibe that the meeting will go well, but if it doesn’t I won’t be able to type for him this last month while I still live here and I’ll have to return to Sha Na Na’s. We’ll see. In the meantime, he knows 3 people from his church who are probably interested in taking over my lease if he can’t get his old roommate to take it. My lease isn’t up till June 31st, said Stacey, but there’s no way I’m gonna stay here till then.

Scott just moved into the same complex I’m going to be moving into. It’s a concrete structure, rather than a wooden one like this place is. It’s 10 minutes away from here in the very northern part of the city. Scott has a 2-bedroom which is about 930 square feet for $535 a month. He got a 2-bedroom in case he ever has his son Matthew with him. I saw the 2-bedroom model as well as a model of the 730 square foot 1-bedroom on the 3rd floor. Like here, I guess the 2-bedrooms go up to 2 floors and 1-bedrooms go to 3. Who knows about their studios?

The name of the complex is Crystal Creek. Andy will call it Crystal Creep or Crystal Crotch, no doubt. Scott says it’s very very quiet there. It has a lot of features - washer, dryer, free cable, big microwave, dishwasher, frost-free refrigerator, large walk-in closet, huge storage closet off of a huge private patio, French doors, vaulted ceilings, fireplace, lush landscaping with waterfalls and little wooden bridges you walk over, tons of cactuses and palm trees, 2 pools, 2 spas, covered parking, exercise room and courtesy patrol. All for $425 a month!

It’s gorgeous there and my address will be something like East Bell Rd. My phone number oughta be the same unless they don’t have this 589 exchange out there.

I told my family about this as well as about Capitol Records and they’re very very happy for me. I also hope to move by the 1st of April, or sooner.

Later…

As far as Velma’s concerned, I’m extremely disappointed and pissed off. Every now and then I am fooled by a person’s character. Other than when it comes to money, she’s a generous and friendly person. But obviously, when it comes to money, she’s a selfish, stingy little fuck. I gave her $60 to do my hair which never worked out right, as it doesn’t with everyone. She took it personally. I told her to grow up and realize that even though there are no guarantees, I want a partial refund. I should be happily compensated in some way. I told her to get me a straightening iron and I’d still be out some money cuz the thing will only cost $15 to $30 bucks. She doesn’t have to pay back the difference cuz she took 4 hours to do the procedure. She can keep the $15 I never should’ve given her for her birthday. She said we should do it over again, but no way. We’d just waste our time cuz if it didn’t work once it’s not gonna work a second time and my hair’s fried enough. So, obviously the selfish, stingy little shit can’t be that hard up for customers, cuz she could’ve kept me as a customer to do my bangs and I’d buy hair care products from her, too. So, unless she calls me to take my offer which is fair, I want nothing to do with her or people like her.

Later…

I haven’t heard from Celeste, nor do I want to for two reasons. One is that she’s into drugs, and the other’s that I think her husband Joe’s not gonna be able to keep out of it so easily. Their best bet is to get someone bi and who’s also on drugs or who doesn’t care about them being into drugs. In the end, though, I do appreciate their honesty. I want someone bi or gay where there’s mutual attraction. I also want someone who’s not committed to anyone, male or female, and who doesn’t want to be. Well, I just may possibly have that with two women I met at the club. They’re not other dancers, they came in as customers.

One’s name is Leanne, though her real name is Sarah. She’s bi and has been with 3 other women. She’s 23 and 6 feet tall with dyed, yet natural-looking blond hair and blue eyes. Her weight is just right. We’ve had some very nice talks on the phone, but haven’t gotten together yet. She’s been moving out of her own apartment and back in with her mom.

The second one is Julia Z and she’s a gorgeous Mexican, my favorite, and her hair’s even longer than mine! It’s thick, dark and curly. She’s 5 feet tall with dark eyes and she’s a little thinner than Leanne. I think she’s 23 too, but she’s never been with a woman before but has thought about it a lot. She called me once, but I don’t yet know when we’ll be getting together. Here’s the shocker about these girls. They don’t like butches, don’t do drugs, they find me attractive, and don’t want kids for the same reasons I don’t.

Andy got up next door very much less noisy. Gee! I wonder why?

Later…

I’m still awake and I wish I could be all day. It’s gonna be a beautiful day out and I want to go to the pool and get some color.

I forgot to mention that I called Omar to tell him I was putting him on hold and why. I explained my situation.

I also called Tammy and told her everything that’s been going on.

I hope that this Sunday Scott can get someone in here by the 15th.

Yesterday I called and spoke to a woman at Crystal Creek who said that if I moved in on the 15th, they could pro-rate my rent. Meaning, I’d pay half a month.

Andy’s got the day off so he’ll probably go apartment hunting again today like he did yesterday. He doesn’t think I’ll have sex with Leanne or Julia cuz either they’ll cancel or I’ll chicken out. No, I definitely won’t chicken out knowing they’re attractive and after speaking to them. If we don’t get together, it’ll be due to a problem on their end only.

[emmyrosee]

Kiyoomi hates sleeping on couches, and would rather not sleep at all if it comes down to it.

He’s knows it’s selfish, okay, it’s just this absolute rejection his body has to the lumpiness of the cushions to settle down, it’s like he can’t.

There’s so much… ick on couches, because people are just so nasty; he’s not even so big on germs, but couches are uncharted territory. One time in college, his roommate was getting busy, and when he asked a buddy to crash on the apartment couch, there was a block of instant noodles jammed in the cushions. He never asked about it, but Kiyoomi still has no idea why.

Sometimes, if practice runs far too late, he’ll crash at Bokuto’s, who’s couch is clean enough but absolutely reeks of lemon basil air freshener, and it sends Kiyoomi into an asthmatic fit.

When Atsumu’s sick, he’s has a tendency to just leave snot-filled tissues around, and all it took was one tissue to fall from the blankets on top of the backrest to keep Kiyoomi from ever even sitting on the furniture again.

(“It was an honest mistake! I get it cleaned every time I get sick-“

“Don’t care,” Kiyoomi snaps. “Never. It’s not just about how disgusting that is. You’re feral.”)

And above all, beds are just more comfortable than a couch- some floors are too, he’s convinced, but that’s not the point. There’s an emotional comfort in a bed, curled up in the sheets and warmth where negative thoughts cannot tred. He came to that conclusion during a particularly rough anxiety spell, and he never got the chance to learn any of the healthy coping skills his therapist tried to teach him.

That’s why you’re now sleeping on the couch.

It was a slip of his tongue when his blood was still boiling, he told you to go away after he’d already locked the door of your bedroom to keep you away. In his mind, he’d called ‘dibs’ on the bedroom to keep himself from getting banished to the couch, despite you never doing that to him regardless of how intense of a fight- you always let him curl on his side of the bed, facing away from you.

He knows it’s because you can’t sleep without him, but Kiyoomi is now coming to the conclusion that he can’t sleep without you, either.

Onyx eyes blink helplessly at the wall, wracking his mind for answers and clarity on how to fix this. He hears you sniffling just down the hallway, he’s such an asshole for doing this to you. The argument ended two hours ago, it’s three in the morning, yet his words stung plenty enough to still have you sobbing.

He tries, fuck, he tries so hard to force his eyes shut to get any semblance of sleep, but the cracking of your voice as you wail keeps him from even trying. The lump in his throat catches with every forced swallow he allows down, and his fingers fist his pillow to keep himself composed.

He fucked up. God, he fucked up bad.

He knows you’re probably cold, you’re more than likely sore from the cushions, your head is probably pounding from your hour long sobs. He knows you’re probably trying to keep it down too, and that only makes him feel more guilty. He’d happily be struck by lightning if it meant you two could swap places, or at least have you back in your shared bed.

Because Sakusa Kiyoomi hates sleeping on couches.

But he hates you doing it even more.

-

Part two here!

[farfromharry]

Beth [ 4 ] | Dad!Eddie Munson series

Four, The birthday girl

Word count - 6772

Warnings - nothing i dont think 

a/n - after this part theres lots of timeskips that just show important moments, but after the series is over im planning on doing a blurb night thing for any small moments anyone wants to see :)

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

April 1990

Even after all the struggle he went through, balancing a baby right as he finished school, his life plans having changed and the difficulty that came with raising a child, he wouldn’t change a thing. Four years later and his baby girl was the most important person in his life. He would do anything for Beth, any single thing she asked. His plans might have had to be altered, but they certainly weren’t going to change altogether. As soon as Eddie had made enough money from his diner job, he’d planned to be out of that place and living his dream with Beth by his side. But for now, he was enjoying the time he spent with her in Hawkins surrounded by his friends. 

The morning of her fourth birthday was one of much excitement. Eddie had been woken up with the girl bouncing on his bed, rousing him from his sleep. He groaned quietly, trying to see the clock on his wall to see what time it was. Beth had pretty much no concept of time, so it could be four am or it could be ten. He prayed for the latter, but knowing her it probably wasn’t. 

When he cracked open an eye he noticed she wasn’t looking, so slowly he reached for her waist, startling her when he pulled her down onto the bed. She broke out into a fit of giggles, growing louder when Eddie began to tickle her too. “Daddy, stop!” she laughed, the sound truly music to his ears. 

He let her catch her breath as he sneaked a glance at the time, noticing it was only nine. He had to give it to her, she’d actually let him sleep for once. “Happy birthday, sweet girl.” Her smile was wide like it always was as she cuddled into her dad’s chest. He found it so hard to believe that she had already been in his life for four years already, she was growing so much so quickly. He wished time would slow down. 

Her head was tucked under his chin, his hand rubbing her back. He was surprised she didn’t fall asleep again in his arms, but he knew his next words would shake any remaining sleep from her body. “I got you something,” he told her, poking her stomach as he got up from the bed. She tried to contain her excitement, but she was practically exploding with joy as she waited for him to grab whatever it was. He’d kept it wrapped under his bed, somewhere he knew she wouldn’t bother looking. 

He placed the large box in her lap, watching as she ripped open the paper after she got the okay from her dad. His wrapping wasn’t the best, but he tried his best and he thought he deserved a pat on the back for it. It did the job. 

“A guitar!” she gasped, looking at her dad with wide eyes. Every time Eddie had pulled out his guitar in the last year, his little Beth had made a comment about how she wanted a guitar of her own, so he’d saved up and bought her a miniature version of his own for her birthday. “It looks like yours,” she noticed. That piece of information only made her love the gift more. She was a carbon copy of her dad in almost every way and she certainly loved music in the same way he did, knowing she’d be able to play a guitar that was the same as his was thrilling.

“It does,” he said, flickering his attention to his own guitar that hung on his bedroom wall proudly. “Now we match.”

She peered up at him with those doe eyes that made his heart weak. For those eyes he would do literally anything. “Will you teach me how to play?” she asked. There was no way he would ever be able to turn her down on that offer, even if he was sure she would find it a struggle to succeed with some of the songs he knew how to play. Luckily, the song she was named after was easy enough. “Course I will, but not today. We gotta get up and ready for the zoo, birthday girl.”

She nodded, allowing him to stand up before practically throwing herself into his arms. From there he would carry her to the kitchen so the pair could have breakfast. She’d taken him a little off guard when she jumped at him, so naturally he thought to pay for that he had to toss her over his shoulder. Her laughter was loud as she kicked her legs, playfully begging to be let down. But the two of them both knew she loved it. 

In the beginning, Eddie had been scared of nearly every move he made as a dad, he now found it all came natural to him. He didn’t need to overthink every single decision, and he didn’t have to worry about if he wasn’t being careful enough. In fact if you looked at him with Beth now compared to how he was four years ago, you’d think Eddie was two completely separate people. Four years ago he never would have been caught dead tossing his child over his shoulder, it would have made him fear for his life. And now, well…

“Okay, you go sit down,” he said, letting her back down to her feet. She stumbled for a second from the sudden dizziness as she tried to regain her balance, earning a laugh from her dad. Once she was stable she basically sprinted to the couch while Eddie rummaged through the almost empty cupboards. “What does the birthday girl want for breakfast? We’ve got frosted flakes or cinnamon toast crunch.” 

She hummed loudly as she tried to decide, thinking over her options in her head before she finally came to a conclusion. “Frosted flakes, please.” Usually he wouldn’t even give her the option between the two considering they were two of the most sugary cereals he bought and his little Beth on a sugar rush meant hell, but her birthday was a special occasion, so he supposed it was okay just for today. He poured her a bowl of her choice and decided he would join her in it too, bringing the two bowls over to the couch where he dropped beside her. He made sure she had a good grip so he didn’t end up with milk all over the couch again (it had happened on more than one occasion and Wayne hadn’t been incredibly happy). 

The two watched whatever cartoons were on as they ate, not making much conversation. They were both as invested in the colorful show playing as the other, despite the fact that one was a toddler and the other was a twenty-four year old man. But it was only another thing they could bond over so none of them were going to complain. 

After breakfast it was time for them to get ready, the dad letting his girl pick out what she wanted to wear for the day. He usually let her do that, Eddie couldn’t put together an outfit to save his life, not for a little girl anyway. She always made herself look much cuter than he could. If he was given more than just an old band tee and some jeans (his go to) then he was helpless. For herself she picked out a pair of denim overalls and a light coloured jumper, he’d force her into another jacket over top so she didn’t get sick also. 

Eddie was dressed mostly as normal, though he’d tried to make a bit more of an effort for her. He’d swapped out the band tee for a polo shirt Steve had convinced him to buy a long time ago, however had still paired it with his signature black jeans, chains and leather jacket (plus his jewelry).

Obviously he thought she looked much cuter than he did, hence why he had to take the annual birthday picture of her. There would probably be a lot of pictures throughout the day and he didn’t care that it made him look like an overbearing mom. He didn’t have many pictures as a young child for him to look back on, though that changed with Wayne, but he wanted Beth to have those.

When the picture was out of the way he only had one other thing left to do, the bird's nest she called hair.

“Let’s tame that hair, huh?” he muttered, brushing his hand over the top of it. This was one of her least favorite parts of getting ready. She always whined that Eddie was brushing her hair too recklessly and that it hurt, even though he was trying to be as gentle as possible. But her curls, an exact match to his, just made it impossible. However, he always gave her an incentive. If she let him fix her hair with minimal complaints and restrictions, she could choose how he styled his hair for the day. “What style do we want?” 

“Pig tails!” she squealed, already prepared with her answer straight after he asked the question. He smiled, grabbing two hair ties from his dresser. He wasn’t the greatest at hair by far, but over the years he’d gotten much better, he just couldn’t braid at this point, she’d surely surpass him in her own talents soon anyway. “Want you to have the same,” she said. 

He didn’t necessarily mind. He would do anything for his Beth, even if he was probably going to get laughed at by his friends for showing up with his hair in two low pigtails. “Whatever you want, your highness.” Through the mirror he could see that she was beaming, happy she had gotten the answer she wanted. There wasn’t a large part of her that expected him to reject her suggestion, but it was still pleasant to know that he wanted to match with her as much as she wanted to match with him.

Once her hair was done he moved to do his own, following a similar method until the pair looked like twins. She found it very amusing, giggling loudly as the two kept their heads next to each other in the mirror. “Y’look so pretty, daddy.”

He grinned, turning his head to press a smooch to her cheek. “So do you, my sweet girl.” There was a couple minutes where she couldn’t help messing with his hair, tugging on the pig tails until he shooed her hands away, poking at her stomach instead. “Come on, Steve and Dustin should be here soon.” 

He gathered their stuff, making sure her jacket and backpack were on firmly before leading her out of the trailer. She held tightly onto his hand as they reached the steps, the same ones she insisted on jumping down all the time just to prove that she could. He always cheered for her when she landed on her feet at the bottom, telling her she did a great job. However, what he wouldn’t tell her was that without the death grip she had on his hand then she probably wouldn’t land it. He was the only thing preventing her from hurting herself.

The two waited for the familiar BMW to show, not having to go too long until it was pulling up in front of them. Dustin climbed out of the passenger seat, already anticipating the love he was about to receive from the mini Eddie.

“Dusty,” Beth called, rushing into his arms where he welcomed her into a hug. “Baby muns, I’ve missed you.”

Eddie watched from the bottom of the trailer steps with a warm smile as the pair reunited. With Dustin busy with his senior year he hadn’t seen his favorite baby Munson in a couple weeks. She had certainly missed him and he had missed her, so he was happy to have a break where he could spend her birthday with her. The same went for Max who was heading over from her neighboring trailer. Although, sometimes when Eddie had to quickly run out, he’d leave Beth under the watchful eye of a studying Max for just a few minutes. 

Once the little girl realized her favorite redhead was also in her presence she was even more excited, rushing more than her little body could handle to give her a hug. “Let’s wrap it up kiddos, we need to get moving,” Steve called from the front seat, trying to usher them all into the car. The male teen moved to climb back into his seat once their reunion was over, only for Eddie to scold him and tug him back by the shirt collar. “Where d’you think you’re going?” he asked.

He didn’t like that he’d tugged him, so he got his own back, yanking on one of the pig tails in Eddie’s hair. “Uh, back to my seat?” It wasn’t appreciated by the older man, a scowl finding its way to his face as he pushed Dustin’s shoulder as payback and then fixed his hair. 

Beth was watching them both with curiosity. “Nuh-uh, the adult is here now. Get in the back.” 

If it was anyone else Dustin would have probably tried to argue. But he knew he wouldn’t get anywhere with how irritably stubborn Eddie Munson is. It was so much easier to just accept things than make it a fight that dragged out for hours. At least if he sat in the back he’d be able to talk to Beth a little more. Max could be heard snickering from behind as she took the seat on the other side of the little girl. 

In the car the three kids were lost in their own world of conversation, which worked out well

for Steve and Eddie because they found themselves in a very fond one discussing you. Steve had brought you up, asking if his friend had grown the balls to make a move yet, but the other just pretended like he had no idea what he was talking about. The topic was quickly dropped, but the redness that had gravitated to Eddie’s face was still there for a while. It was an awkward silence hanging around the car for a little bit until Beth asked if they could put some music on, and of course all four of them would do anything for her. 

The rest of the ride was filled with the soft sounds of angel eyes by ABBA playing through the car's speakers, as well as the quiet conversation that was made between Dustin and Beth every so often. She could be speaking complete nonsense to him, but he was happy to entertain whatever it was she was talking about.

Upon arrival at the zoo, Beth naturally drifted towards Robin, the two having had an odd connection that began the day they met for the first time. There was something about the older girl that just provoked a sense of calm in the toddler. The pair walked hand in hand for the first ten or so minutes around the zoo, equally giddy about all the animals they were seeing, specifically the snakes. They liked making fun of the fact that Eddie was certainly not a fan of them, keeping his distance from the glass. Around the same time the girl had complained that her bag was heavy, Eddie taking it from her with a smile and carrying it on his own shoulder instead. It earned a few laughs from Dustin and Steve who really thought the pink, sparkly backpack completed the look he’d started with his pig tails. 

Beth looked in awe of every animal she saw, but she spent the most time gazing up at the penguins with a childish wonder that was just precious. At each exhibit after the snakes Eddie would be crouched behind her, holding her tiny body and reading off the facts on the information cards on the glass. He didn’t even know it was possible for her to be more amazed, but upon finding out the black and white creatures could become makeshift sleds by sliding on their bellies on the ice, her eyes grew wider than he’d ever seen, a large toothy grin on her face.

“Daddy, can we try that?” she asked, cheerfully. Eddie turned fearfully towards his group of friends, silently asking them how he was supposed to respond to that kind of question. He didn't want to go full dad mode and say no, but it was April and near freezing, she would a hundred percent catch a cold if she tried. But he also wanted to let her have fun. “Tell you what, B, in summer I’ll get you the fastest water slide we can find, huh?”

Thanks to her skewy conception of time, she didn’t know that was still months away, and hopefully for Eddie’s sake she will have forgotten by then, but it was good enough to tide her over for now. “Good save,” Robin muttered. 

He rose to his feet, smiling proudly to himself as he thanked her despite the obvious sarcasm her tone was drenched in. Beth ran to another one of the group members while the dad was distracted, finding herself tugging on the end of Steve’s shirt to ask silently if he would pick her up. One thing the toddler loved was being held, whether it was for cuddles or being carried around, she just adored it; she was almost never out of someone’s arms, mainly Eddie and Steves. 

The Harrington boy carried the girl anywhere she wanted to go, and her next stop had to be the monkeys. Even the man was amazed as he gazed at them, him and Beth sharing the same expression of wonder. Eddie was so enamored with the smile on his baby girl’s face that he knew he had to take a picture. He ushered them into a stance where he could see both them and the animals behind them. 

“Show me that pretty smile,” he said. His eyes rolled so far into the back of his head as Steve grinned brighter rather than his daughter. He almost physically facepalmed. “No, not you Steve, I meant Beth.”

The second best part of her day apart from seeing the penguins, had to be the gift shop. Of course it was, how could it not be when she managed to swindle Steve out of money and take him for the sucker he was. Eddie was such a proud dad at that moment even if Harrington was basically steaming with rage. At least it made for an amusing memory for everyone else. 

It started when he stole her away from the group after he spotted a pretty girl with some friends in the shop. It was coming towards the end of the zoo trip so Beth’s sugar crash that had been building since this morning was making her tired and compliant. She wouldn’t wake up again until she got the ice cream she’d been promised on their way out. At first the group thought he was just offering to carry her because she was tired, but they understood there was an ulterior motive when he sped off and struck up a conversation with some woman. Eddie had sighed, but it wasn’t the first time he’d had Steve pretend she was his daughter to try and pick up women. She was used to it, as was he. Even though he’d told him a hundred times to knock it off, it continued happening. 

Not everyone had seen it before though. Dustin was watching with deep curiosity, trying to decipher what was going on. “What do you think he’s saying?” the kid asked Eddie, eyeing Steve as he cradled Beth and spoke to the woman in front of him. She seemed as though she liked the sight of the man with the child. 

“I’m King Steve, I’m pretending this adorable baby’s my daughter, please go out with me because I’m a fake single dad,” he mocked. The curly haired boy looked at him with a furrowed brow and a slightly opened mouth, shocked to hear such a condescending tone coming from Eddie. He grew defensive upon earning that look, muttering a quiet, “What?” 

After Steve, actually successfully for once, got the lady’s number, he let Beth back down to her feet, bending down to her height. The sleepy toddler was beginning to wake up a little and was slowly gravitating towards Erica who had joined them. Those two, despite their prevalent age gap, got on like two peas in a pod. 

“Look, if you don’t tell your dad about this, I’ll buy you any plushie in here you want,” he told her. He thought the odds were good considering she was only four, but she had been spending way too much time with Erica and Dustin to settle at that– mainly Erica. Beth hesitated, looking over her shoulder to where Sinclair was watching. The older of the two shook her head, essentially telling her Steve’s offerings were shitty and he needed to do better. 

He watched the exchange, but was curious as to what she’d come up with. “Two plushies,” she said, glancing at Erica to check that was okay. The teen only raised her eyebrows, encouraging her to continue. “And five dollars.” With a final look casted back she had earned the approval of the youngest Sinclair, a grin creeping its way onto her face now that she knew she did good. 

Steve’s jaw gaped, scoffing in disbelief that he was actually standing here bargaining with a four year old. This wasn’t the first time he’d been swindled by the specific Sinclair either. “Y’know what Munson, fine. You got a deal.” He shook her tiny hand, pulling a five dollar bill from his wallet to hand to her. Then it was time for her to pick out two animal plushies she liked. Her selections ended up being a penguin and a lion. “But I seriously miss when you couldn’t talk.” 

She was beaming as he handed them to her, and she didn’t stick around long as she rushed off to find her father. Eddie was more than happy to scoop her up in his arms when she reached him, letting her rest on his hip. “What are these?” Eddie asked, feigning shock as if he hadn’t just witnessed Steve buy them for his daughter. She delved into the story about what the Harrington man had been doing, as in using her as a way to pick up women; even if he failed. Although he’d made her promise not to tell her dad, she couldn’t help herself, she told him everything. 

She held up the penguin plushie first. “This one’s mine. It’s a penguin.” Then with her other hand she held up the lion, her father’s soon to be favorite zoo animal.  “This one’s yours. A lion ‘cause you have the same hair,” she laughed. As a kid he’d never really had the chance to pick one he liked that much, but now that Beth had made that comparison, it was pretty solidified which one he loved now. “I got them from Stevie in the deal we made.”

Steve just watched on with a feeling of betrayal in his chest, cursing the entire Munson name. “Oh, and he gave me five dollars. Can we use it to get ice cream?” Eddie had never been so proud of the girl. He didn’t approve of Steve using her as a pickup line, and the guy knew that but did it anyway, so he was at least happy in the knowledge that if he was going to continue to do it against the dad’s wishes, then his baby was working hard and getting something out of it too. He’d have to remember to thank Erica later for helping her out. 

“Of course we can.” He waited until Steve was in ear shot to make another comment. “Isn’t Steve so generous, buying us all ice cream.” He earned himself a middle finger, one that made him gasp dramatically and reach to cover Beth’s eyes. 

Robin tutted mockingly at Steve. “Not in front of the baby, Harrington. No ice cream for you.”

He rolled his eyes, trailing behind the group the entire way as they approached the ice cream cart just outside of the zoo. He had a scowl on his face as Robin kept to his word and refused to buy him an ice cream despite the fact they were using his money. At the least though he could acknowledge that the happiness all over Beth’s face was adorable, especially when she had the sugary treat smushed all around her mouth. 

The joy he’d felt throughout the day was quickly returned with the little girl’s laughter, the group of seven absorbing the final bits of excitement that came along with their day out before they made their way home. She was certainly going to be exhausted tonight. Eddie was expecting her out like a light by eight at the latest. 

When the pair returned home they had plans to watch a movie with Wayne, the man having taken a day shift for once so he could spend time with his granddaughter for her birthday. Eddie told him he didn’t have to, but he did greatly appreciate it after seeing the smile on her face when she got home. She was straight into the older man’s arms, telling him all about all the animals she’d seen and showing off the plushies she’d got. 

He entertained her ramblings while Eddie slipped the video into the vhs player, gathering some snacks and stuff for them from the kitchen.

As expected the girl was falling asleep halfway through the movie, and to be honest so was Eddie. She was laid across his lap, her head resting on the arm of the couch where her eyes were fighting invisible weights trying to stay open. He smiled down at the sight of her, brushing his thumb over her cheek as his own eyes drooped. “Y’tired, sweet girl?” 

She nodded. “Let’s get you to bed.” Since she had outgrown her crib the girl had been sleeping in Eddie’s bed while he took the couch. It wasn’t the most comfortable place for him, but he put her comfort over his own anyday. He’d surely find a better solution at some point, but for now it worked and that was all that mattered.

It was difficult getting a sleepy toddler into pajamas, but he managed it in record time, helping her under the covers one she was ready for bed. “Y’got your penguin?” he asked.

She showed it to him, nice and cuddled in her arms. “Did you have a good birthday?” he asked, stroking her hair as she clutched the stuffie Steve had got her. She was too tired for words right now, so she just nodded in response to his question. He was glad, all he’d wanted was for his baby to have the best birthday he could give her. “Well, get some rest, y’look like you need it, baby.” 

She smiled, nodding her head again. “G’night daddy. I love you.” 

He leaned forward and placed a kiss onto her forehead, pulling the blanket all the way up to her chin. “I love you too.” 

The day after her birthday he was due back at work, promising the little girl he’d see her that night around closing time. She never liked it when he left her for that long, they were basically attached at the hip at this stage in her life. He left at midday and wouldn’t see her again until almost midnight. He was always amazed she even managed to stay awake that long, but a quick nap in the afternoon would have her energetic enough to greet her dad after a long day, only to crash on the way home. 

He was itching to see her again even the second after he left her, but of course he had to deal with customers all day long first, and of course he had the worst possible luck. 

The first table of the day he had of course housed Jason Carver and his old friends. They noticed him right away, familiar evil smirks growing on their faces, it seemed as though they hadn’t changed in the four years they hadn’t seen each other. “Ah, freak, see you’re still in this shithole.” He thought he had escaped the basketball team at graduation. They had all taken off to different colleges around the country on various scholarships and such, giving Eddie a little bit of much needed peace from them. 

He ignored Jason’s taunting, pulling out his pen to take their orders like he would do with anyone else. “What d’you want assholes?” he asked, trying to hold back the eye roll. He knew he was supposed to treat the customers kindly so his attitude didn’t reflect badly on the diner, but he would never have that kind of patience with this group of people. Plus if he called you over he knew you would be on his side anyway. 

Jason scoffed, feigning disgust. “Is that anyway to speak to a customer?” 

You were watching from behind the counter as the four guys tormented poor Eddie. Unlike him, you didn’t know them, hadn’t met them within the halls of Hawkins high or had the pleasure of disagreeing with them like he had. You didn’t really know what they were capable of or what to expect, so you planned to keep an eye on them and how they treated the man.

After he took their order with their minimal awful things said about them in his head, he headed back over to the counter where you were wiping it down. You heard him let out a deep sigh as he tore off the page in his notepad to pass back to the kitchen. Then he was heading towards you to complain, as both of you did whenever there was a particularly rude customer. 

“God, I hate them,” he said, leaning his forehead against your shoulder. He heard you laugh, which was accompanied by you abandoning your task so he could feel your hand tangling in his hair. “I can kick ‘em out if you want. I am the manager after all.” Although it sounded like a very promising idea, he knew he wouldn’t live it down as long as they were still in town. They’d probably go around and tell anyone that would listen that Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson had let someone else fight his own battles by kicking them out of the diner. 

“Can’t I just spit in their food or something?” He was probably joking, keyword probably, but you did believe if you gave him the okay then he would go and do it. That was why you had to outwardly deny that he could just in case. “No, but we’ll get ‘em back somehow, Ed, don’t you worry.”

He trusted you, continuing to do his job serving them their food no matter how much he wanted to hit at least one of them in the face. It seemed as though they just became more and more unbearable as seconds passed. He was honestly amazed at how they were managing it. In the span of the less than an hour they’d been there, from start to end he’d argue they were a thousand times less tolerable. 

He was still grumbling to himself when he came back saying they wanted their check. They’d clearly rattled him considering he’d been pretty happy when he started his shift earlier, so like a good friend would, you offered to take it and sort it out. What you didn’t tell him at first was that you planned to leave a pretty generous tip for him paid for by Jason. You felt it was the least he could do after the way he’d treated your friend. It didn’t take much, just a bit extra added on to their meals and such and they’d never know.

Eddie was confused when you sent them out with a wave and a smile on their way out, but the evil grin on your face told him you were scheming.

“What did you do?” he inquired, eyeing you and your suspicious demeanor.

You handed him some of the dollars you’d been given by his rival, laughing at the crease that appeared between his brows. “It’s for you. Jason left a very kind tip for his old friend.” 

His jaw gaped. “Y/N, isn’t that like, illegal?” he asked, glancing down at the money in his hand to the cash you were putting in the register. He watched you shrug, letting out a loud laugh. “It’s not like he’ll notice. It’s probably daddy’s money anyway.”

He sighed, letting his lips finally curl into a grin at the knowledge you’d risk committing an illegal act just to get back at someone for him. You were a little shocked when he placed both his hands on the sides of your cheeks, leaning in to place a loud kiss to your cheek as a thank you. “You are a badass.” 

The rest of your shift panned out as normal, the two of you even sharing a milkshake at one point after neither of you could be bothered to make a second one. All you were waiting for was when closing would hit and you got to see the precious smile of that little girl you adored so much.

Beth usually came in after or around closing time. Wayne brought her over, her hand firmly clutched in her grandpas as they entered the diner. She didn’t see her dad at first considering he was in the kitchen, but she let out a squeal when she saw you, rushing in your direction. You briefly greeted the older man before turning your attention to the small child. 

“Hey kiddo, missed seeing you yesterday.” You leaned over the counter so you could ruffle her hair. She scrunched up her nose as you did so, giggling quietly as she shooed your hand away and smoothed her hair back down. Wayne helped her up onto one of the barstools, meaning she was now much closer to your height and she could see you better. 

“We went to the zoo!” she cheered. You gasped, “You did? Did you have fun?” You were moving around behind the counter like a second nature, sliding a plate in front of Wayne with his regular late night snack that would keep him going for the first few hours he worked. He thanked you quietly, not wanting to interrupt the story his granddaughter was telling. When she was excited like this it was never wise to cut her off for anything. She was like Eddie when it came to all the sass she had. 

The father came out to the front of the diner near the end of her story, grinning at the sight of his daughter. He didn’t cut her story off, just placed a kiss on the top of her head and let her continue. Subconsciously, she leaned back on her chair so she was resting against his chest, letting him know in her own way that she knew he was there. 

“So, I heard, it was a special little girl’s birthday yesterday,” you began, trying to bite back your smile. You didn’t yet want to give away the surprise you had for her, the one that even Eddie didn’t know about. He watched the two of you interact with a warm heart. Over the years you had formed a bond with the little girl that he adored to see and in turn his feelings towards you had grown tremendously from when he first met you. “And I got her something.”

He wouldn’t say it in front of Beth but he’d definitely tell you later that you didn’t have to do that. For you it wasn’t that you felt like you had to, but you’d wanted to. She’d been the light of your day for pretty much three years and you wanted to do something nice for her birthday. You disappeared into the kitchen for only seconds, coming back with a decorated cake that had a ‘4’ candle lit on top.

She gasped as you set it down in front of her, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the pretty decorations. You’d learned from Eddie that she had a bit of a thing about tulips since she was a baby, so you worked hard with some icing to make some pretty good looking different coloured tulips. “Make a wish, sweetheart.” 

As she blew out the candle the three of you clapped, cheering quietly for her. She bathed in the attention happily. That was all quickly followed shortly by Wayne’s departure, work calling. You offered your goodbyes before moving to cut a slice of the cake for the eager little girl, you and Eddie deciding to share one after the food you’d already sneaked today from the kitchen. 

Now that Beth was distracted you turned to talk to the man. Business had picked up towards the end of the night and you had barely had any chance to communicate for hours. You loved talking to him while you were working, he often made shifts more tolerable and vice versa. At first he was too busy complementing your baking skills to even realize you had been planning on saying something, but he grew bashful when he noticed your amused stare. “Sorry, go on.”

“Did you have fun at the zoo?” you asked while she dug into her slice of cake. He grinned, leaning on the counter opposite you. “I did, we had a little daddy-daughter day, plus some friends. Thank you for the day off.”

He saw the way your face contorted, your features scrunching in a look of confusion. As he thought over what he said he didn’t know which part could have caused a misunderstanding, but he was sure he was about to find out. “Wait, wait. She’s your daughter?”

“Is this a joke? Are you playing with me?” he asked.

You shook your head, your entire face looking like you had just had the biggest revelation the world had ever seen. It should have been obvious– it was obvious now that you thought about it, but for some reason you had just never put two and two together and now you felt a little bit dumb. Heat was rising to your face as you hid behind your hands, listening to the sounds of Eddie’s amused laughter as he realized you were being serious. “I thought she was your sister or Wayne’s kid or something,” you weakly muttered. His smile only kept growing, despite the lingering fear in his chest that now you knew he was a dad things would change between you two. He didn’t know if he could handle your friendship becoming awkward, especially not when he was already struggling with his blossoming feelings. 

The feelings between the two of you went unspoken for the sake of your jobs, plus a little bit of fear. “That’s not– It’s not a bad thing, right?” You could tell from his tone that he felt like he was trying to tread lightly when he asked. 

You jumped in quickly to reassure him. “No, no of course not. It explains a lot actually. You both have the same puppy dog eyes.” The tips of his ears tinted pink at that. It wasn’t the ‘compliment’ itself that made him blush, but it was the fact you had taken enough time to look at him to notice the kind of eyes he had. He liked the thought of you looking at him. 

Now that the fear was pushed aside, he could focus on the fact that you were still clearly embarrassed over your mistake. He pulled you into a hug, still chuckling as he rested his chin on the top of your head. Your face was firmly hidden in his chest, not wanting to be seen by anyone at all for the next five years. “You’re adorable,” he said. The cake was long since abandoned on the counter, and Beth was watching the two of you but didn’t really care to question the sudden burst of affection. 

You supposed you learned something new everyday, and with this new found knowledge it actually only made their relationship ten times cuter. It made him a little bit cuter too..

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

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[subpar-ghoulfriend]

Cuddle Bunny Pt 2

Pro Hero!Kirishima x reader with a bunny quirk

Kirishima get’s his hand on his bunny. 

tw: smut, yandere, breeding kink, kidnapping, noncon, dubcon, gaslighting, penetration, delusional Kirishima, belly bulge

You struggled to open your eyes as you inhaled the familiar scent of sandalwood and vanilla. You heart rate picked up as you realized you were in a totally unfamiliar environment. Weren't you just at work?

Whoever was behind you had their arms around you to keep you from sitting up.

"Good morning, bunny. How'd you sleep?"

You knew that voice, confirming who was beside you.

Your mouth was dry and your voice cracked as you asked, "Kirishima? What's going on?"

"I picked you up from work last night, you were out like a light."

The pervious night was muddled in your mind but you knew he wasn't telling the truth. He was supposed to be your last client for the night. The two of you walked out of the building around the same time. You politely declined his offer to walk you home. The next thing you remember was sitting on the curb as the world started to spin. Kirishima was talking to you but you couldn't remember what was said.

You took a shaky breath. You had to be brave, besides he was a hero. There was an explanation. You just had to find it.

"Kiri, are you telling me the whole truth?" Your voice was barely above a whisper but you knew he heard you. His arms tensed around you.

"You're such a curious bunny. We can talk more once you're feeling better."

What was he talking about? All you had was a headache, you could hold down a conversation. Confrontation was never your thing. But maybe you could just keep asking him.

You wanted to wrap things up so you could go home before work.

"Can we talk about it later?" You asked. "I have to run home before my shift."

He nuzzled closer to you, "What do you mean, silly? You don't work there any more."

It was becoming harder to contain the panic building inside of you. You struggled harder against his grasp as small tears began to prick your eyes.

"Please let me up. You're scaring me."

Instead of letting go, Kirishima repositioned you too face him.

He looked concerned, "You don't need to be scared, you're safe here. You don't have to go back to that job, it's too dangerous."

/

"Be a good bunny, lift your pretty little tail a bit higher for me."

His hands guided your hips further into the air. Once he deemed you to be in a suitable position you felt him tug down your panties, exposing your slick cunt to the cool air.

You whimpered into the pillow. Your body, betraying your mind, ached to be touched by Kirishima's rough hands.

"You're so beautiful," he cooed. With two fingers he began to tease your delicate folds.

As the pressure in your lower abdomen began to build you tried to pretend that the situation was different. If you could lie to yourself about the position you were in maybe you could hold it together. He was stronger than you, much more athletic, even with out his quirk. Even if you struggled you knew you couldn't escape. You didn't want to risk making him angry. Although he kept repeating that he would never hurt you, how much could you trust the words of your abductor?

You bucked towards him when his thumb pressed against your clit.

Although you couldn't see it Kirishima was beaming with pride. He felt reassured that he was making you feel good. His cock throbbed in anticipation for the moment you both felt good.

But he told himself it wouldn't be manly to enter you with his dick before making you orgasm at least once.

Regaining control of himself he paused his assault on your pussy to rub his hands down your back toward your neck, gently pushing his thumbs against the base of your skull. You letting out a rough whine. Both frustrated with the lost sensation and pleased by the firm pressure against your shoulders.

"Okay baby, let's get you prepped, you're tiny compared to me. Let's get you as ready as we can."

You gasped as his index finger entered you. Pressing and curling against your walls as if to examine and assess the situation.

He continued to use his other fingers on the outside of your pussy. There was a wet noise as he gently thrust his finger in and out, and then with out warning you felt a stretching sensation. He has added another finger to your insides.

"That's it baby, you're doing so good. You got such a tight little pussy. How about I get a toy for next time. Something a little bigger than my fingers but smaller than the real thing. That way we can't get you ready a bit better than we will this time."

The idea of ‘next time’ made you lightheaded. You whimpered as he added a third finger. You could feel the stretch between your legs. Paired with the stimulation of your clit you couldn't hold back as the tension in your body released, Kirishima tighten his grip to keep you in place as you tried to jerk away from him.

Pleasure flooded your body and you wanted to collapse onto the mattress.

As you slowed your breathing he gently lowered you're ass so you could rest as he slowly removed his fingers from your drenched hole. He trailed kisses along your back while he praised you.

Finally he turned you on to your back. He was flushed, his hair falling around his face, and he had barely broken a sweat.

He removed his pants revealing his... monster cock. There was no other way for you to describe it. You had never been with someone who had such length AND girth. It looked like it was gonna break something in you.

No matter how hard you tried, Kirishima managed spread your legs. He took a moment to admire the mess he made before digging through a drawer on his nightstand.

You closed your eyes at the sound of the lube bottle opening. Kirishima applied a generous amount to his cock before using two fingers to rub the remaining substance into you.

"There we go," he whispered as he lined up his tip to your soaked cunt. "Just relax for me. Don't be afraid to hold on to me. I'm pretty sturdy."

The tip wasn't bad. You were thankful for the lube. You needed to hold on to him. Gripping your nails into his back as he continued to slide into you. You focused all your energy into your hands, afraid to move. Tears flowed freely from you now. The pain seared and you couldn't stop it.

"It hurts," your gasped. "So bad. Please no more."

Kiri paused.

"Shhh, bunny. I got you. We're almost there then we can give you another moment to adjust." He was running circles on your hips with his thumbs, wanting to provide you some form of comfort. He knew he was a challenge to take. It didn't help that you were so tight. "Take a deep breath for me."

You did, grateful for the momentary break. But as he instructed you to breathe out he shoved the remainder of his cock into you. A violent sob wracked your body. Kirishima hoped that the sooner you adjusted to his size the sooner you'd stop crying.

With him fully inside of you he rested for another moment. You were so tight that he was honesty surprised he fit. He brought a palm to the slightly swollen area of your lower belly. He applied just a bit of pressure before he began to slowly pulse in and out of you. You were still shaking but had quieted down.

When he no longer felt like you you were off the verge of passing out he was ready to help you feel good. He kept his palm against the bulge he was responsible before, but repositioned slightly so his thumb could make its way back to where it belonged - the swollen bud between your legs.

"God you're such a good girl. So tight and warm," he panted. "Gonna fuck you so good. Teach you that I'm the only man you need."

His speed began to pick up. While you were still in pain you began to feel the pressure expand within you once more.

Kirishima kissed the tears off your cheeks. He knew he was close, your walls clenching around his member. He was determined not to be too rough with you, at least not the first few times, but you were unintentionally wearing down his his resolve.

He nipped your neck harder than he should have, breaking the skin. You arched against his chest which allowed him to wrap his arms underneath you.

Kirishima felt like he couldn't get close enough to you as he pressed violently against you tender body. Another orgasm shot through your body causing you to clench even tighter around the cock inside of you.

"Fuckin hell," Kirishima groaned, "You take me so well bunny."

You felt a swell inside of you as he released inside you.

Your mind felt fuzzy with post orgasm bliss. Kirishima softened inside you, remaining in place as he showered you in praise. He began to withdraw from you, allowing his seed to drip past your puffy folds. He didn't leave you empty for too long. He used two of his fingers to push his fluid back into you. He used his other hand to pull you against his chest.

You were still tearful and the realization that he was using his fingers as a makeshift plug to keep his seed inside you was making you sob again.

"Don't cry bunny, you did such a good job. Once we calm down we can get in the shower. Then I'd got a little present for you since you're behaving so well."

You were not a fighter, you wished you were. You wanted to yell at him. To thrash and scream and make him stop holding you. But you weren't a fighter and you knew fighting him would do you no good. You would have to bide your time until you could make a run for it.

At least he hadn't been mean to you. And aside from (probably) breaking your pussy, he hadn't hurt you yet.

He was gentle getting you into the shower. You were washed first, his hands roaming your body and conditioning your hair. Then he helped settle you against the shower bar while he quickly took care of himself. After drying you off with the fluffiest towel he slipped one off his shirts over your head. It was just the right size to cover you ass.

He disappeared for a moment, leaving you sitting along the tub. There wasn't much for you to look at. The cabinets were locked and the room had no windows.

Kirishima was back, changed into comfortable sweat pants. He carried you with ease back to bed. The old sheets piled in a corner, he had replaced them with fresh linens.

Hopefully, he thought, this would make you more comfortable.

"Ready for your surprise?" He asked with a pointy grin.

You thought it was a rhetorical question but it looked like he was waiting for your response. Did you really want a surprise? No. But you probably didn't get much say so you merely shrugged your shoulders. He bounce out bed and went to rummage through one of his drawers.

He turned around to present a stuffed animal. It was a chunky shark, not too big but the perfect holding size.

"Look! I saw him and thought you would think he was cute. Don't forget to name him, 'kay?"

You clutched the toy to your chest. He knew you loved plushies. You mentioned it to him once and said you had them all over your apartment. The shark smelled like Kirishima.