#god i’ve been chatty the last two days | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jodilin65 · 7 years ago

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SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 2017 We went to Toys R Us earlier only to find it surprisingly dead, reflecting the falling birthrate. So was the fact that they’re going bankrupt. Most things were overpriced, too. There were dozens of cute dolls and while a few of them were reasonably priced, many were $40 - $60. Not worth it, especially for plastic kids’ dolls. So it was probably the first time ever that I walked out of there empty-handed. They didn’t even have any children’s coloring books. Just adults’. This is okay, though, because I still have plenty of coloring books and plenty of knickknacks to have to dust. It’s just nice to get out.

At this time of year, the only time you don’t hear the freeway traffic at night is on Friday and Sunday night. Late last night I was thinking how quiet it was and then starting at 3:30, I could hear planes flying around for the next hour and a half. So I’m not even safe from that shit in the middle of the night. Right now I hear freeway traffic. I guess I’m not in for the TV tonight otherwise I would’ve heard it by now and they don’t usually fly two days in a row, thank God, so I guess it will just be traffic tonight.

The planes are just fucking ridiculous at times. I don’t know if this is a new thing or if we’re near an airport but I’ve never lived anywhere where I’ve heard this much plane activity. It’s definitely number three on my complaint list for LV.

Wondering how many more appointments it’s going to take Kathleen to become a whole different person, and I know damn well she will. Stacey is far from the only one that’s pulled that on me, too. The first time I remember it happening to me was when I lived on Woodside Terrace in Springfield when I called a girl who gave me her number at the bar. She didn’t just act like she didn’t know who the hell I was but also like she was totally annoyed by my calling her. But being the polite little sucker that I was back then I was nice about it. These days I would’ve been like, “Well, what the fuck did you give me your number for if you knew you didn’t want me calling?”

Sometimes I wonder if people actually like getting people’s hopes up and leading them on even if they’re doing it subconsciously and aren’t even aware of it, not that I think Kathleen is doing any such thing of the sort. But people, in general, do make me wonder. I’m not talking about those who have dumped me like Alison did. I’m talking about those who seem to want to be your friend (or more than that) that blow you off or suddenly change their mind for some reason.

Maliheh pulled the same thing on me when I called her in 1991, acting practically offended that I would dare consider calling her at the number she gave me.

My guess is that Kathleen chose to simply be “friendly” instead of saying she couldn’t contact me and why. Or maybe at the time, she thought she would but I’m sure a friend or coworker will talk her out of it as I suspect was probably the case with Stacey. I just find it hard to believe that Stacey kept everything to herself and didn’t seek advice from a close and trusted friend of some kind, but maybe she did “think it through” on her own. She did the right thing in the end. She didn’t do the right thing in the beginning. Or towards the end, I should say.

I’m never going to know Kathleen’s real reason for not reaching out to me in the future because I’m not going to ask, though my guess is that it will be for the same reason Stacey backed out; she may feel it’s going against ethics. When I see her in 10 days it will be interesting to see how she acts. Will she be her usual chatty, bubbly self? Or will she clam up?

When I sit and think about it, I don’t see why she would need or even want to have me as a friend. She strikes me as the type that has plenty of other friends she can go shopping with and whatever else she likes to do. I also think that no matter how much she may like the way I dress, that no, she can’t possibly be attracted to me. I’m overweight and aging and while I may not be the ugliest thing to look at, I’m certainly not the prettiest.

No matter how much you may love, cherish and honor our country, the flag is just a piece of material. It has no feelings or emotions. Also, the National Anthem is just a song. I think that sometimes we as people fail to keep things in perspective and focus on what’s really important. Instead, we get too caught up in material things, tradition and symbolism.

I was so glad when Walmart replaced our favorites. I was hoping they would. Now maybe they’ll leave the site alone for a while. I hate sites that are constantly changing, but being as big as they are there is bound to be many changes.

My pit rash keeps getting better and worse and better and worse but never goes away completely, even with hydrocortisone. Tonight it’s creeping down my inner arm. I might have to see a dermatologist. I can’t believe or accept that I’m always going to have all these rashes that are going to arrange from annoying to really annoying while being totally uncurable simply because I have an autoimmune disease. Perhaps a dermatologist can tell me for sure. It seems I have one thing after another. The appointments are backing off but not as much as I’d like. If life could stop giving me shit, I could cut them down even more.

The first night the solar wind chime bottles stayed lit most of the night. The last two nights, however, they’re not even staying lit for three hours. Bad batteries? Or not enough sunlight?

Lately, I’ve been alternating between two different walking routes. For one I head toward the back of the park and loop around, and the other I head toward the front of the park by the RVs. Each one takes almost a half-hour, depending on how much of it I run.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 2017 Haven’t been remembering much in the way of dreams lately, but Tammy did manage to send a bag of chewy caramels through the phone in one of them, haha.

I was coloring in my abstract coloring book. I like this particular one. It’s both fun and relaxing. It’s by Zenspirations.

Got to get on with my editing soon and order groceries. My goal is to submit Beneath the Smile for publication in two weeks.

Both Twenties are now added on Facebook. I added Carolyn when she “liked” a comment I made on one of Jon’s posts. Wouldn’t want her to feel left out. :)

They may be funny online, especially to Jon, but their workers are still driving me crazy. I’m going to tease them so badly when we “return fire” with the roofing project this summer, LOL.

Wow, though, just wow. When social media first hit the scene all my friends were strangers or cyber friends. Then came the VH sisters. Then came family. Now neighbors. What next? Kathleen? That would be nice but that’s no doubt just a fantasy. Tom said it’d be extremely unlikely that I’d hear from her, reminding me that it’s her job to be friendly, she does work for us even if it’s not in the way the doctor does, and she certainly can’t be friends with every single person that goes through that office.

Oh well. Life will be easier without her, I suppose.

The PBer who bought my books asked if it would be okay if she didn’t review them until after Halloween. In other words, would it be okay if she didn’t review them at all? Yeah, whatever.

Done trolling Aly for a while. I shouldn’t have messaged her on MD but let her stumble upon the bogus account I created on her own. Then again, she may never have spotted it and she still may have somehow known it was me. Sometimes I really wonder if she hacks into certain accounts to get more info but IDK. Intuitive or not, there are just some things you would think she shouldn’t know.

Her diary now says “not public,” but I think it may be deleted. I’ve noticed before that after I’ve deleted it diary it will say that but that was a long time ago. They’re down now so I can’t go to the one I deleted to see what it says.

She also changed her Twitter handle and I found the new one in two seconds. Kim finally blocked me too. Good timing because I’m about to delete that account since I really don’t need two Twitter accounts anymore.

I still don’t get why Aly hasn’t blocked me. She’s got to have my username filtered.

I was going to return to Tumblr and GoodNightJournal, but then I changed my mind. I don’t like the layout of Tumblr and GNJ is still a bit slow and glitchy. I did return to Pinterest even though I know they’ll steal some of my pins, and they too, are slow and glitchy.

Got a 3-month refill on my thyroid meds. The pharmacy had to call the doctor. I’m sure that made her day too, to see me requesting more evilthyroxine. She probably got an idea of how many skips I’ve been making by how late I am on requesting a refill.

Amazon delivered some flavored coffee that I’m looking forward to trying. Golden French toast and icy eggnog.

I also got another color-changing solar wind chime and put it outside the kitchen window. This one has glass bottles.

Despite moving the snowballs so they’d get more light, they’re not doing well indoors, so I’ll probably put them out front. The butterflies will go in the carport once they arrive.

I ordered an adorable rat mug with tiny black rat silhouettes all over it, and today I also received the burger and pizza stickers. They’re on the counter now. I will probably add the egg frying in a pan to the opposite counter soon.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 2017 I forgot to write out last night’s dreams. It was really weird because I went to see Melanie, the girl who did my braces back in the ‘90s in Arizona. It was the second time I met with her and I realized I was wearing the same long white tank dress with the colorful design on the front that I’d worn the first time. It was a dress my mother sent me a million years ago.

Some guy was telling me and who knows who else how to pack because we were moving somewhere. I was angry at him because some girl had a stupid mother who never went to school and he automatically assumed that the girl was stupid, too.

“Oh, the clever yet disgusting things people do to try to fool me…”

Aly tweeted this about six hours ago. So yeah, she knows that Sexy Submissive was me. Figured she would. She’s got to have hacked that account to know that. She’s got to have. But I can’t check the IPs that have logged into it cuz I deleted it.

Clever is one thing but disgusting? How was it disgusting?

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 2017 This entry is a classic example of why I’ve chosen to keep a lot of my journal from those I actually know. Tammy just messaged me to say how horrible she and Becky are doing, so I would feel bad sharing entries where I brag about how wonderful some of our goodies are. It isn’t that she would intentionally put a guilt trip on me and it isn’t that I don’t feel bad for them, but we do have a right to live our lives.

Becky needs surgery on her wrist. The bastard that hit her only has 10K for insurance. Tammy had surgery yesterday and is in a lot of pain. She said Becky said she would have been better off if he’d killed her and that’s heartbreaking for Tammy, understandably.

Our lives are good but not perfect. Today I’ve got some burning and itching in the crotch and my emotions are sometimes a little off, but I can’t say I feel “anxious.” No racing heart either, though I was a little anxious and heart-racy yesterday. After chatting with Tom when he got home I felt a million times better. I wonder if I should have skipped my meds today like I did. This is my second skip since the last time I was at the lab. Really hope I can take it every day with labs being just a few weeks away, but I’m not going to kill myself just to give the doctor better numbers.

I looked it up and I really do have some symptoms of either uterine or endometrial cancer. Frequent peeing, a clear discharge, and cramp-like symptoms. The cramps may be my stomach and not my uterus but the discharges are definitely coming from the vag. I don’t have it too often, though. Not as often as the cramps and peeing, but I’ve been a frequent pisser for many years now.

I say let fate play itself out. Sure I’d like to leave California someday and live another 20-30 years and die when my husband dies, but we’re always going to have things we would still like to do no matter when we die. There are just as many pros and cons to dying now as there would be to dying 20 years from now or 20 years ago. I’m still terrified at the actual thought of going through the dying process. How much pain, suffering and fear will I endure? And what possible afterlife might I face afterward? Very scary thoughts. I try not to dwell on these things but I know I have to face them sooner or later just like everyone else in the world.

What do I think? I still think Tom will die first, probably in his 80s, and that’s when I’ll kill myself. If there is any God up there planning our fate, it’s not going to let me die in my 50s when it can keep me living a few more decades so I can suffer more long-term crises. I may be blessed in many ways, but I’ve also been cursed in more ways. First, it was the wanting to be a singer, then it was being denied true lust, then it was the sex/baby shit, then it was the freeloader shit, then the poverty, then my meds/peri; so why not live for whatever the next long-term problem is going to be?

Learned how to block numbers on my phone. It’s pretty simple to do on androids. Quicken Loans has been harassing me because I entered HGTV’s dream home sweep. They do this every time they give away houses. I guess they’re one of their sponsors. It’s so fucking rude and you would think companies like HGTV wouldn’t want sponsors like that. I sent a text telling them to fuck off but that hasn’t done me any good, so I had to block the two numbers they’ve called me from. I’m sure they’ll keep calling from other numbers but I’ll just keep blocking them until they run out of numbers or give up on me since they’re not getting what they want. Why do they assume everyone who enters to win a house is looking for a loan? I just want to win the fucking house, not borrow money.

The solar wind chime is totally gorgeous. There aren’t any actual chimes, tho. It doesn’t make any sound. In the light, they look like snowballs hanging from these little wires. The color-changing effect in the dark is awesome. They look like colored balls of ice or crystal. I totally want more. I want one for just outside the kitchen window and one for the carport as well.

Tom also got his new desk chair today.

He got the new gate code from Joy which they change periodically and he programmed the clickers/car.

I woke up to the huge mower mowing the common area on one side of me and sawing and hammering on the other side of me. Jon said something about bugs. I guess they missed a spot when they were tenting and had to replace the wallboards in that area. Of course, that spot had to be closest to us. I’m sure this latest project will last all week, too. It’s a good thing I’m sleeping in these days.

He’s a definite super poster. Some of his posts are interesting, but it’s mostly political shit I’m sick of hearing day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year…

Glade has helped make the place smell a little better. I’ve got the Cashmere Woods plugged in now.

The new motion sensor soap dispenser is awesome. I love how it doesn’t drip or trail just like they said it wouldn’t. It’s a little big for the bathroom, so it’s in the kitchen.

I created a second account on MD, not so much in a bogus name but that doesn’t use real names or say anything that would give my identity away to Aly should she be looking to connect with people there. That and Tumblr are the only blogging sites I know of that she likes. I did lie about my basic details. I also mentioned being a BDSM fanatic, curious to see if that catches her attention. Part of me thinks it would be funny to befriend her under a false identity, as wrong as that would be. She was less than honest with me, though, so if she stumbles upon it, which I doubt, I’m going to just go along with her for shits and giggles.

I think she would know it was me no matter what, though. She’s a well-trained hacker. I still think that when we would troll people she had a way of hacking my account to see what activity was done with it. These were times when I was totally anonymous and making sure to sound the least obvious as possible. Yet she always knew it was me. Always. She would claim she was just good with people, but nobody’s that good.

I just don’t understand some people sometimes. They can appear to be such good friends or close enough to it and then they ghost you for no apparent reason at all. The older lady who moved from Vermont to Tennessee who bought Locked-In and really loved it hasn’t said a word to me in over a week now even though I’ve continued to comment on her entries. She hasn’t purchased any more of my books either.

Saw a headline trending on Facebook about Twitter getting ready to test doubling tweet lengths. That would be nice. Oh, and the Saudis are going to be kind enough to allow women to drive. Pretty fucking sad that it had to take this long for that to happen but as I always did say, had I been in that country no one would have pressured me about my not driving. Instead, they would have gotten on my ass about not having kids. It seems that no matter where you go people will get on you for something or another.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 2017 Sometimes I still find myself missing old friends and I wonder what the hell is wrong with me. I suppose it’s just normal, though. Despite the blatant liar Aly was, I do miss her at times, probably even more than I miss Andy and Nane. Not sure I miss Maliheh, though, and I definitely don’t miss Paula. But we live in a very unforgiving world despite all the hypocrites out there preaching forgiveness. Not that these people necessarily have anything they need to forgive me for, and not that I want to actually pick up my friendships with them, but I do miss them at times and I would probably be dumb enough to talk to them if they contacted me. Yet I know I could contact them until I was blue in the face and get no response.

Tom thinks it’s very unlikely that I’ll hear from Kathleen because she still does work for us even if it’s not in the way the doctor does, and I totally agree. Sometimes it’s easy to think that someone who is overly friendly is attracted to you when they’re simply being friendly. I was so sure that I would hear from Mary C at VH. I didn’t. I was so sure I would hear from Johnson. I didn’t. I was so sure I would hear from Stacey. I didn’t. So why should I think I’ll hear from Kathleen? Well, I won’t. As I’ve learned, no matter how obvious someone may appear to be and no matter how much they may seem to really want to be your friend, it’s either just an act or an act of professionalism.

The fact that I haven’t heard from her even though it hasn’t been long since I last saw her is proof right there that no, she doesn’t really like me. If she did she would have jumped at the opportunity to contact me and she would’ve sent a message saying something like: I know you may not be in a position to go shopping just yet but I thought I would check you out (on FB) and say hi.

She would be following me and buying my books, too. Then again, since I’ve gotten more private I’m not so easy to follow.

When I don’t hear from her as time goes on I wonder if I’ll be more disappointed or relieved. Probably relieved. It’s hard to get as disappointed when you’ve been blown off time and time again and you’ve lived long enough to know that certain things just aren’t meant to be. Even if she really was attracted to me that doesn’t mean she wants to be my friend. So I’ll probably be more relieved, knowing the potential trouble friends can bring. Going friendless is always easier even if it makes life lonelier or boring at times, and yes, some days I still feel this strange void in my life; a sense of emptiness that needs to be fulfilled only I don’t know what to fulfill it with.

While I certainly love my adult life a million times better than when I was a kid or in jail, the structure and routine I once had were good for me in some ways. Even though I had to do things I didn’t like doing, it made me value my free time even more. Doing the things I love to do was even more special because I couldn’t do them anytime I wanted to like I can now. I also had a lot more human interaction, some good, some bad. So everything has its pros and cons. This is the safer, easier life, but it can get boring at times. Things aren’t so new and exciting anymore or all that special, but I think most of that feeling comes from getting older. I feel I need a little more adventure in my life. The only problem is that with adventure usually comes drama as well, and I definitely don’t need any drama.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 24, 2017 Watching the movie Nerve on Amazon and it’s pretty good so far. I’ll finish it after this entry.

My book Shane is due to be released on Amazon anytime now, and that’s a link I will happily share once I have it.

The heater turned out to be okay. The pilot just needed to be relit. It’s warming up again so even though it does get chilly in the early mornings we shouldn’t need it for a while.

I got my very first virus since switching to Macs nearly a decade ago. I stupidly clicked on a link to download a video converter. Thank God my genius hubby was home at the time because he was able to get rid of it before it could do any real damage.

My new mouse is a Logitech mouse just like the last one, but this one is absolutely horrible. I just hate the way it functions, so I ordered the M215, which was the last model I had, and for $25 that comes with the keyboard as well. I don’t need a keyboard now, but it’s always good to have a backup even though we probably have a million keyboards and a million mice.

When we were coming back from Rite-Aid I glanced over at Bob and Virginia’s place and said, “There’s my windchime!”

It was so funny because Tom thought I meant that they stole my windchime. LOL. In reality, I noticed they hung the wind chime that I got them when we were in Mexico. This is the first time I noticed it hanging outdoors anywhere.

My solar wind chime should be here tomorrow. Not sure if I’m going to keep it indoors or outdoors.

I also ordered a motion sensor soap dispenser, and some new Glade plug-in warmers, and scented oils. I like something that puts out a good smell all the time instead of just when I happen to light some incense or use the diffuser or wax warmer.

So last night I got a friend request on Facebook and my first thought was, wow, that was fast! But was it her? No, it was him. Jon. I didn’t mind adding him, though.

I would still be very surprised if Kathleen ever contacted me. I’m sure that inevitable “change” will be evident the next time I see her or maybe the time after that. She’ll be a whole new person sooner or later… cold, distant, etc. But… fewer friends, less trouble.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 2017 Because I didn’t feel well yesterday, I didn’t do much of anything. I didn’t work out or edit my book, and it took me all day to do my journal entry. Today I’m better but still a little tired. I didn’t sleep as long as I thought I would.

So after the dentist, we went to Sonic for burgers and fries. I began to feel kind of wound up not much later. I’ve noticed that fast food sometimes makes my heart race for an hour or so because my body isn’t used to having rich foods like that every day, especially after I’ve been cutting back as I have, trying to modify calories. I’ve lost a few pounds, though most of it may be water. I got really watery as my body tried to generate a period, couldn’t do it, then gave up and dumped its water. I’m three months late.

Anyway, at first I thought it was just the excitement of seeing the dental staff because going to them is like visiting old friends. But the more my heart raced, my tummy acted up, and I began to feel on edge and experience the hot flashes from hell and some inward trembling sprinkled with racing thoughts from ADD, the more I knew that no amount of burgers, fries and friendly staff would have that effect on me. Sorry, but seeing them isn’t that exciting, and neither is going to Sonic.

Sonic is this place where you pull into a little parking spot and order through a speaker in the menu, then sit there and eat, though there’s no rule that says you can’t take it with you. We ate there, but damn, you can’t even eat outdoors without blasting music. It’s bad enough that they blast music inside stores and restaurants. Yet we had to hear this shitty music blasting from their speaker, so we shut the window despite it being warm and even a touch humid. Flies were bugging us anyway. This was after they corrected our order which they messed up the first time around.

Anyway, I’m sure it’s the usual shit where the perimenopause is kicking up and my medication was fueling it, so I skipped yesterday’s dose. I was slightly on edge, too. Tom and I both believe that if it weren’t for the perimenopause I wouldn’t have a problem with the medication (except for the first time they put me on 75s and then later tried me on 88s), and if I didn’t have perimenopause my meds wouldn’t be an issue. I just wonder how many more fucking years before this cycle ends! I had been doing so much better, too. I’m so fed up with it that I’m likely going to tell the doctor when I see her on my birthday to lower my dose for a while. I’ve also got lung tightness and while this is a bad time for those with allergies and asthma, that right there is a bad sign. Especially when you don’t smoke. I actually took a hit off my inhaler.

It totally figures that when I was super hot flashy it was warm in here. It was one of those rare instances when I wished it was as chilly as it is now. Even in my hoodie, I was chilly on this morning’s walk. It’s supposed to be back in the 90s soon.

My new mouse absolutely sucks. I can’t get it the right speed. It’s either too slow or too jumpy. It has a cute pink and purple abstract design on it but it sucks.

Oh no! I just cost us $600 in dental work, we still need a new roof, and now I can’t get the heat on to take the morning chill out of here. What, are we going to go back to the breakage curse? Back in the 90s to early 00s, I swear our stuff was cursed. Everything was always breaking. Really hope we’re not back on that trend again, although the heater is probably a bit old.

When we got home on Wednesday he replaced an old outlet that had gotten loose to the point that things we would plug into it would start to fall out. It was so funny because there are 12 breakers in the house, and one by one he shut them off but not the one he needed to. He was just about to give up and throw the master switch when breaker number 10 finally did the trick.

This weekend we’ll be replacing the shower massager in the master bathroom.

I had to laugh when I saw a headline about Walmart wanting to come into our homes and stock our refrigerators. Why don’t they try keeping things in stock and not deleting people’s favorites first? Yeah, I was so pissed when I went to order groceries and found they emptied our favorites out. I was smart enough to copy them into a document but there may be a few things missing.

Later…

I can’t get Kathleen off my mind. Like I said, she’s not the most gorgeous person in the world, but by most people’s standards, including mine, she is attractive. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was smoking hot 20 years ago. Either way, she is such a cool person.

Even though it seems extremely unlikely that I could be that bad at reading people, maybe I really was wrong about Stacey and maybe I’m wrong in suspecting that Kathleen likes me. She could just be a very vocal and friendly person with everybody, and she did refer to Jessica one time as being “so cute” like she did with me (Jessica is young like Michaela). Everyone else’s in their 50s except for Shannan. She’s in her 30s.

So maybe there’s no physical attraction at all. This isn’t what my gut tells me, but it doesn’t matter either way. I know how women treat me, which means I know better now than to think we’ll be buddies. No matter how much a woman may seem to like me be it for a friendship or anything more if I was single, I know nothing will happen and that she won’t contact me. I always get blown off. In fact, I’m sure that the next time I see Kathleen she’ll act like a whole different person just like Stacey did in the end. Even if she thought to herself, ok, we’re both married but a simple friendship would be nice, she will have “thought it through.” Somehow, someway, Kathleen is either going to change or move.

In some ways, it may be better that she doesn’t. Yes, a local friend or two may be nice, but I don’t want the potential drama that can come with friends. Getting together with her would be like appointments, thanks to my schedule curse. I may have to struggle to match the time we agreed to get together with my schedule like I do with appointments, even if I wouldn’t expect to agree on a time as far in advance as with appointments.

It’s just a little weird, though, because Stacey said something to the effect of meeting some woman, even if she might not necessarily be in her field. I already met Kathleen at the time she said that, of course. It’s cool to have a journal to look back on and read about the times we saw each other.

I wish I knew her last name so I could look her up. I’ve never found her on any of her coworkers’ friend lists, but I can’t see who the doctor’s friends with.

If I’m right about her having a crush on me, though, why hasn’t she looked me up already, just like I wondered about Stacey? She could have looked up some things without me knowing, but there doesn’t seem to be any way to fool Blogger’s inner stats. No one can access an entry without being detected. Well, if she had a crush on me, wouldn’t she have been curious enough to check out the few entries I currently have on Blogger since our appointment? Or could she have been following me all along? She can’t be following me too closely otherwise she would know I have books for sale and might have even downloaded them, too. So far I’m only at a grand total of three sales.

Another thing that’s strange in a funny kind of way is that she’s been openly “flirting” right in front of Tom if that’s what this really is. Or some of it anyway. I wonder what Tom thinks of her, but I’m not going to put him on the spot and ask. I don’t know that he would tell me anyway. Even though he knows he can trust me, he’s always had a jealous streak in him which has always bothered me.

If I were single I could see myself being interested in her since the only negatives I see so far is that she’s too thin and a little too chatty.

Another thing that’s weird is this is sort of starting to mimic Kinky Kathleen, only “Amantha” suggested they get together when they ran into each other at a store. Let’s hope life doesn’t imitate art too much or else this won’t end well at all.

There’s no way in hell I can get my ass into the body-shaping bodysuit I just got, and while I could wear the corset, I would feel like I was trapped in some kind of medieval torture device if I did.

Ran into Jon and Carolyn at seven this morning when I was returning to the house. They were walking with some woman. Jon was his usual friendly self but Carolyn? I’m not sure about her. I still think I’m a little too liberal for them. Jon strikes me as the type that would continue to be just as friendly and chatty upon learning I’m a liberal lady, but she doesn’t. I think she would become more standoffish. I wonder if I did the right thing by giving Jon the information I did and then messaging him on Facebook.

Naw. I’m me. Period. And no one has to like it.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 2017 I’ve been sick and I’m also tired so I’m behind on my blogging. It’s the usual culprits… perimenopause and probably a TSH score that’s getting a little too low for comfort.

Yesterday was fun, shitty and expensive all rolled into one. I got up early and was hoping that Kathleen would still be working for my dentist and not on vacation. There really does seem to be a pattern when it comes to those who are good-looking, super nice or both. They leave or we move. But, as I told myself, if she’s in her 50s as I suspect she is, and knowing how much she seems to love working for my dentist, where else would she go? Why would she quit unless she left the area?

Either way, the dentist is the one appointment I actually look forward to because I feel like I’m going to visit old friends. They’re such nice people. Such a super friendly team that always makes you feel welcome and special. I’ve been going to them for almost 6 years and Kathleen actually makes it a bit fun, LOL.

To go in order of events… while I was doing my hoping that I would see her, Tom cleaned some of the carpet in the master bedroom. Damn was it filthy! I totally regret not laminating the entire house, and just getting throw rugs for certain areas.

I walked down and got the mail from Joe, wondering why it has to be windy every single time I wear a dress. And the shorter the dress, the faster the wind. Mid-thigh dresses apparently mean an average of 8 MPH an hour winds. Anyway, Joe gave me Tom’s surprise electronics package that he gets every three months.

On Monday I had the runs, on Tuesday I didn’t go at all, and yesterday I had the runs before my appointment.

Janet, who was around Kathleen’s age, was the former office manager. She was a very nice lady and was even kind enough to give us a jump one time when our old Ford Taurus crapped out on us. Resistant to change, I wasn’t too happy to learn she’d left back in 2015 and would be replaced by the tall, slim blonde with the friendly blue eyes and the perfect smile for a dentist’s office. Now I am SOOO glad she left.

We got there a few minutes early and I was delighted to see Kathleen who was busy at the computer as soon as we walked in. She glanced at me, smiled, said hello, and then went back to help a couple of women who were at the counter.

Tom and I sat on the loveseat across from the desk and he settled in to play games on his phone. I started to think we wouldn’t have time to chat much because the women were taking quite a while. But they eventually took seats in chairs on each side of us. I then got up and showed Kathleen my latest nail design. She took hold of my hands in hers and admired how “adorable” and “cute” they were.

Kathleen looked great, albeit a bit thin and with dark conservative clothing that’s usually just the opposite of my personal tastes.

“You got blonder and I got blacker,” I said at one point. Even though blonde isn’t my favorite hair color it suits her very well and the shade she now has looks great. It’s a brighter shade of blonde but not so bright like a neon sign.

She asked if I did my hair myself and I told her I did and that it was a stain and not a dye. She asked if I liked it darker, and I said I did for the most part, although it is a touch too dark for me. With permanent stains, you don’t have much choice, though.

I complimented her light pink nails and she said it went with my dress and it did. That’s another thing she complimented was my light pink, simple yet perfectly cut for my figure dress that’s actually flattering to it, giving me a very hourglass appearance.

Right after the two women sat down, the older one that was closest to me really threw me for a minute there. She started talking to me as if we knew each other. Then the younger one sitting next to Tom said, “I’m over here.”

I didn’t realize the woman was blind!

After Kathleen asked me to step away from the counter so she could see my dress, the blind woman said, “I’m blind so what are you wearing?” and I told her.

Before I sat down I said to Kathleen that we ought to go shopping together sometime and she said something to the effect of, “I’d like that.” I told her I would just have to be picked up or dropped off since I didn’t drive.

So then Jessica came and got me and Kathleen was sure to jump up and point out how adorably cute my nails and dress looked to her.

Next, I was turned over to Michaela and I knew right away from my spying endeavors that it was the doctor’s daughter as soon as she said her name. She told me the doctor was her mom, which I hastily praised for saving my teeth which I would have lost years ago if it weren’t for her. You could see the resemblance. She’s a sweetie just like her mom, too.

I told her that I wanted to discuss a mouthguard for my TMJ issues with her mom and she said that was interesting because just that morning they had a meeting on TMJ.

So Michaela took my x-rays and then I was turned over to Holly. Time must be flying faster than she realizes because she said, “Hey, Jodi, it’s been a long time. Like a year now.”

It’s actually been just six months. We chatted about this and that along the way, as usual, including the TMJ. She asked if I was still writing and I told her I was and have slowly started publishing things on Amazon. That seemed to pique her interest even though there haven’t been any new sales since yesterday when a new PBer bought both of the books that are currently published.

After my teeth were cleaned, the doctor came in to see me and greeted me as if we were old buddies and she had missed the hell outa me, LOL. She placed a hand on my shoulder and said, “Hi, Jodi,” in a very cheerful tone.

I briefed her in on my ear surgery way back when and how I thought the pain I began to experience in 2005 was connected to that until my ENT told me what it really is.

She asked if I clenched my teeth when I was awake. I told her I didn’t but that I had no way to know what I was doing in my sleep. I do suspect I might be a grinder, though, because I swear I was grinding my teeth just as I awoke one time which, as she says, can shatter teeth.

She asked what side I usually lay on and I told her it varied but does seem to be worse when I lay on that side. The thing is that I listen to audiobooks at the end of my day and I have to lay on that side otherwise it will be hard for me to hear Dot unless I blast it being mostly deaf in that ear.

For about a year now I’ve suspected something was going on with my back bottom molar on the right side, and I was right. The x-rays show a crack in that tooth as well as an upper tooth.

Unfortunately, the mouthguard is going to cost $300 and then another $300 to do the two partial crowns that I need to be done. If I ignore them, the teeth will eventually crack completely. So $600 on top of the new roof we still need. :-( But I’m tired of the TMJ pain, Tom thinks it’s worth it and encouraged me not to worry about money, and so I’m going to go for it. Those partial crowns will end up being full crowns, root canals or bridges if I ignore them much longer, and that will only cost more in the end. The doctor took pictures of the teeth with this stick-like camera and showed me the fractures on a monitor.

LOL, at the desk Kathleen was telling me to take advantage of the insurance (it doesn’t roll over into next year), and looked at Tom and said, “She’s worth it,” while she squeezed my hand affectionately, and then reached for my necklace to admire it, saying how sparkly it was. I think the entire staff has pretty much figured out by now that I love bright colors and anything shiny.

Before this, it was back to Jessica who made an impression of my bottom teeth. This wasn’t the big deal I feared it would be. I was a little nervous at first, though. The upper impressions they did when I had the old-fashioned braces in the 90s sucked because you felt like the shit was going to go down your throat and gag you. This time was okay, though. There was an area where you stick your tongue through so that it doesn’t get molded into the impression, and it only took two minutes to set.

I wondered if sleeping with a mouthguard can really make me feel better during the day, and the doctor feels pretty confident that it will. If not, they plan to add an acupuncture specialist to their team that can do various massage techniques. That’s funny. Trisha, the woman who lives diagonally from us is a retired acupuncture doctor.

Holly will clean me again in March. Meanwhile, Kathleen scheduled me to pick up my mouthguard and get crowned in three weeks (which means I’ll see Shannan since she’s the dental surgery assistant). Not sure if I’m going to have to go back again to get the permanent crowns but I think I will. Tom said he overheard one of the patients talking about them having this really high-tech 3-D printer where it takes only an hour to print out crowns and stuff like that but couldn’t say if they were just talking about it or if it was something that already existed. With my shit luck, I’ll have to go back yet again, but hey, one more chance to see the lovely, very friendly and definitely flattering Kathleen, haha.

They added another female dentist who works mornings, from what I gather, and when Kathleen was scheduling me she said I could come in the morning if I wanted to and have the other dentist take care of me, but I promptly said, “No,” evoking a smile from Kathleen. That’s when I told her I’d rather stick with someone I know and who knows me, not being a fan of change. This is my dentist until she either retires or we move, whichever comes first.

After we paid the $600 and I was scheduled, Kathleen made a comment about it being fall and I said I hated it and would be complaining until June. This very morning it got down to 69° inside the house. She likes the heat, too. It is going to warm up again but not that much and not for long.

When I mentioned us moving to Florida, I swear she seemed unhappy to hear that. Then I added that it would be several years before we did, and she said something about Tom having time before he retires.

So just as we were leaving Kathleen showed me off to one final person, which was a woman I’m pretty sure she said was a personal friend of hers. On my way out I told her to feel free to look me up on Facebook. Although she said, “I will,” I know damn well she’s not going to look me up. Stacey and countless others in this world have taught me that people are definitely more talk than action, but that’s okay. I don’t mind seeing her at the office only for the 2-4 times I go there each year. It would still be kind of funny if the real Stacey turned out to be Kathleen. Yeah, it’s a no-brainer. Any idiot can see she likes me because no one goes around complimenting people that much and showing them off to everybody and anyone they can, LOL. I pretty much had her figured out early on. Not the first appointment, but the second one made me think something was up when we were sitting at a table by the desk and she was going through some paperwork with me and telling me she didn’t know her patients well yet. This was shortly after she replaced Janet. I thought it was weird that she asked Tom if we were related or something to that effect.

The way she looked at me, the way she complimented me, etc. I’ve always been a pretty intuitive person. Never have I assumed someone liked me that didn’t, though there have been cases where I was surprised to learn that someone liked me that I didn’t realize did like me. I had no idea Marie “Duewi” had a crush on me back in Valleyhead, but I’m a lot smarter and more experienced than I was at 16 years old.

Just like I was sure that Stacey liked me, Kathleen likes me. No doubt about it. I’m not stupid and I doubt Tom is either, haha. But liking someone is usually harmless, especially if it’s a woman.

Do I like her? I do. Kathleen’s not OMG gorgeous, but she is very attractive and I would be willing to bet that most people would consider her better-looking than me. She’s a little too thin, but she’s tall and blond, which most people consider a plus, and she has very soft, feminine, compassionate and friendly features that are perfectly proportioned. On top of that, she seems like a genuine sweetheart, so what’s not to like?

I wouldn’t mind having her as a friend but I don’t have any desire for any kind of a side dish. I’m a 51-year-old whose hormones are shot to hell for God’s sake, not a 20-something-year-old with raging hormones. Oh, my hormones are raging, alright, they’re just doing it in all the wrong ways. Personally, I would probably detest the idea of dating if I were single because I feel so fat, old, and unsexy despite how many people of both genders check me out.

I wouldn’t feel uncomfortable being friends with a woman who was attracted to me as I would if it were a guy. Women don’t usually make other women do things they don’t want to do, but then neither does every single man. I’ve caught our mailman and even the old man next door checking me out but that doesn’t mean I would be afraid to be alone with them. It really depends on the person. I don’t want to “do” anything but I don’t mind a little flirting here and there. I would still be incredibly surprised to hear from Kathleen. Not just because while guys usually seem to follow through, women blow people off, but she is very kind and attractive, and when it comes to women, those are the kind that usually avoid me like the plague. If she were the butch type she would have already called, haha, no offense to the more masculine version of our lesbian/bisexual community.

Just like Stacey is, Kathleen is married. I’ve seen the engagement ring and the giant diamond wedding ring. Human nature is human nature, though, as we know. Rings and certificates never stopped a person from being attracted to another person before and they never will.

Where both she and Stacey are skinny and tend to dress conservatively, they are otherwise complete opposites. Although I will miss our chats from time to time and I did adore her, Stacey was short and dark with a quiet, reserved demeanor without much of a sense of humor. Kathleen is tall and light with a bubbly personality. You feel so comfortable being around her and you look forward to seeing her.

After we left was when things started heading south, but because this entry is so long I will get to it in my next entry.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 2017 I’m surprised I didn’t get an appointment reminder call from Kathleen yesterday. Or from someone. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if she were gone or on vacation. You know how it is for me when it comes to the really nice people or the good-looking ones. They’re not in my life for long, even if they were never really in it to begin with. Well, I’ll find out in four hours.

I had a series of weird dreams last night. The black bitch from Arizona was in one of them. She dared to relax on the floor somewhere close by me and said to someone else, “Don’t ask me what I’m doing,” knowing they wouldn’t want her getting too close to me. I got the impression she actually felt guilty for race-carding me into jail and was trying to buddy up to me.

Then I was later giving her some advice about something.

Oh, to run into her in the afterlife if there is one! I’d slowly and torturously tear her apart limb by limb. Some things you just don’t forgive and you certainly don’t forget.

Then I was looking out a window somewhere at the ocean, but the water and waves were perfectly still.

Next, I was gazing around this dingy old house Tom and I were renting and thinking how nice it would be to buy a bigger more modern place in a few years.

I walked by a reporter somewhere and was hoping for some reason that I would stay out of the camera’s range.

In the last dream, I was being chased by some unseen madman. I don’t know if he called and threatened me on the phone or what, but instead of just laughing it off I was terrified for some reason and I ran out of the house and down the street. It was dark out and my first thought was to get out of view and inside someone’s house if I could.

I knocked on a door that I noticed had a key sticking out of its lock like the person forgot to remove it. A boy and a girl of about 10 years of age opened the door even though they were home alone. I told them I needed to call the police because someone was chasing me. So I dialed 911 on my cell and started relaying information to the dispatcher. Then I told the kids they needed to get the key out of their door, knowing that the madman could’ve seen me enter the house and then let himself in.

One of the kids opened the door and then said there was no key inside it. I told them to run as I bolted out of the house and down the street, leaving behind the jacket I’d taken off inside the house.

Now I was afraid for the kids as well as for myself. I called to them to follow me but instead, I saw them run out of the house and around towards the back of it. The dream ended with me calling frantically to them.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 2017 Giving up on GoodNightJournal for now. The site is too dead and it still runs slow even though they said they were changing servers.

I had the runs again yesterday and I’m not sure why. It even extended after bedtime, waking me up a couple of hours into my sleep. I was able to get back to sleep afterward, though.

Said hello to Bob and Virginia yesterday. Virginia wants to read my book but she doesn’t have a Kindle. Typical 80s person. Most of the older people are pretty old-school.

So I started talking to Jon yesterday when I stepped out to dump trash and saw him trimming some shrubs. We briefly talked about plants and stuff like that, and at one point I commented on the mess the tree on our corner makes in the fall when all the leaves fall off. I asked if the tree on the corner of his place was his or the park’s. He said that technically it was the park’s and then went on to talk about some kind of organization that was less social than some others as far as getting the park to do things it doesn’t want to deal with due to expenses.

When he asked me what I was doing at the moment, being the open person that I tend to be who doesn’t care what people think, I simply said I was editing my book. When he learned I have books published and plan to publish more, he asked for my name so he could look me up. I don’t mind people looking me up, but the thing is that he and his wife are Trump supporters, and most Trump supporters are haters, especially when it comes to gays. They naturally fear anything they don’t understand or experience firsthand, and for some reason, it’s hard for them to accept things they can’t relate to so their minds automatically reject it. Not all Trump supporters are like this of course, but I think most are. I’m pretty liberal myself and while I’m certainly no Trump supporter with the way he’s treated women and the way he hates gays and Jews, I do agree with his stance on Muslims and immigration. We need to put our foot down where dangerous cultures are concerned, and we need to stop the overcrowding the immigrants cause by flocking here by the millions.

Back on topic. Given the likelihood that he’s an “all-around” hater, I had to laugh to myself at the thought of him discovering what my books are all about. Better yet, what I’m all about.

I decided to surprise Jon on Facebook and sent a quick message saying, “Guess who?” He accepted my message request but didn’t reply or add me. No local visitors but I can’t believe he didn’t check the blog out. He’s probably just a hider. No new book sales either. So I’m guessing that yeah, he probably didn’t like what he found on me, LOL. That’s okay, though. Sometimes it’s not good to mix neighbors with pleasure any more than business with pleasure, but I still don’t have a problem with adding him if he later wants to. It’s up to him. It’s okay if I’m too liberal for him and it’s okay if I’m not.

For $20 I grabbed a new mouse last night on Amazon because my wheel still scrolls but won’t click.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 2017 The next 6 days will be in the 70s. It was a chilly run this morning but I do prefer it chilly when working out and sleeping. Unfortunately, I’ll be getting plenty of that and then some till June.

It was a fun and productive weekend, but as always, it went too fast. Weekends seem to last half a day while the workweek seems to last two weeks.

Today I’ll begin editing Shane. It often seems like writing books is more work than fun, but editing is what they’re mostly about, like it or not. Writing the story itself is nothing.

Last night I dreamed I was watching a boat cruise up a river as fast as a speeding car, buying a pregnant rat, and sitting in Tammy’s car as she made a quick run into a store. While I waited for her, some guy in a truck made too wide of a turn and clipped the headlight on my side. A split second later the “truck” turned into a giant lawnmower. Again the guy hit the car and just as I was about to get out and give the dumbshit a piece of my mind, he vanished into thin air.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 2017 Someone on Prosebox did a brief entry saying that the movie Knock Knock was very traumatizing and do not watch it. Naturally, I was curious to check it out, and I did. I thought it was a fantastic movie! It was unique and even had some funny parts in what was otherwise a very serious home invasion movie where a couple of young girls assault and rape a middle-aged family guy home alone for the weekend.

It wasn’t available for free on Netflix so I watched it on Amazon Prime. I’m now watching Adulterers on Netflix. I don’t usually watch a movie all in one sitting. Movies are reserved for when I’m eating because the act of eating alone is boring. Sort of like a stationary bike or the skier. Can’t stand to do them without watching something, reading or listening to music. I am so totally getting a treadmill desk when we move.

We got a lot done over the weekend, but poor Tom burned his finger with the glue gun. He said it hurt like hell, and as fate would have it, our antibiotic ointment had expired.

I have resubmitted my newly improved and re-edited version of A Rainbow in Munich to my publishers at Amazon but with the same cover.

This week I will go through Shane and I should be able to submit that next weekend.

I continue to be amazed and even horrified by the number of Muslim supporters out there all in the name of political correctness. No matter how many evil deeds we see this radical culture commit, God help you if you dare say the slightest thing negative about them. Yeah, people will have a bleeding heart for terrorists but they’ll refuse to be taxed just a little bit more so we can have universal healthcare here in America.

It’s days like today that really break up the monotony of things. I love what I do but if I do it every single day of every single week and every single month and every single year, it would drive me crazy. Same with if I didn’t get out once a week or so. So I really appreciate how fun today was with good food and new goodies.

First, we went to Raley’s where I picked up some K-cups and we got some gourmet chocolate chip cookies to share that are totally awesome. There are nearly 400 calories per cookie. That’s more than some of my TV dinners!

Then for just $17, we had fun at the dollar store. He got some tools, pens and pencils for his new toolbox that almost looks like a black suitcase that you can wheel around and that has a pull-up handle, too.

I got the following items:

Rose scented air freshener.

Vanilla incense.

Pink toenail clippers.

A stick grip for reaching things out of reach or in tight spaces.

Two black plastic rat Halloween figures.

A couple of doorknob decorations with bells hanging from ribbons.

Two solar toys. A sunflower with blue flowers at the sides of it, and a bouquet of pink flowers.

Last night I dreamed I was swimming somewhere with 40 or 50 other people. Pretty sure it was an ocean and not a lake. We were quite a ways away from the shore. There was some kind of wall and raft/floor that was about 4 feet beneath the surface of the water and that I was standing on. I began to swim away from it and then all of a sudden there was a noticeably strong current. People seemed to grow a little alarmed and I realized it was a whirlpool that had begun to form. I quickly swam back and huddled against the wall because the current wasn’t as strong there. I don’t know if anyone got sucked under or not.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 2017 “Calm down. If you can’t handle a community you need to get a place like what you had,” big sis said in regards to the few choice words I left about yesterday’s latest water outage on Facebook.

While it was certainly quieter in the country, we could never afford land here, and we’re still not sure we would ever again want the hassles of rural living in the first place. But yeah, they did it again. Yesterday the water was off for a couple of hours without warning, which means they probably had a surprise and unexpected leak somewhere. No one heard my little swearing spree, though. I was home alone.

Yes, the piping/water situation here sucks, and yes, there is more daytime noise than I would like, but I realize there’s no perfect place on earth. Every place has its pros and cons and some kind of trade-off. The main source of noise back in Auburn was Jesse’s mutts, and while there may only be one or two noise sources out in the country as opposed to dozens in the city, you have the hassles of dealing with wells, limited to no mail services, positively shitty Internet service, and then you have to haul your trash or burn it in a metal drum.

So it’s either a quieter place that comes with lots of inconveniences or a noisier place that comes with more convenience. It’s like with climates. We don’t get snow here but we still get cold. Hurricanes can’t get us but an earthquake could. So everything has its positives and negatives.

The latest source of noise was hammering and sawing just beyond Bob & Virginia’s place. Someone was getting new doors or windows. Our 34-year-old windows let sound in beautifully, and the noisiest room is definitely the living room because there are so many huge windows in there and the room itself is huge and very open. Therefore when I’m on days I work down the hall in the back bedroom where there are only two windows, one of which has soundproofing material hanging in it. It’s annoying and it’s inconvenient, but I do like the snappy Internet service, trash service, having access to a pool a few months a year, and the fact that I could get an ambulance out here in a few minutes if God forbid we ever needed one instead of a half-hour or longer.

I briefly chatted with Bob yesterday who had a touch of humor unlike in the past when he seemed more on the serious side. The more you get to know people the more they usually loosen up. I asked him if he got a notice about the water being turned off (in case ours was blown away or something), and not surprisingly he said he didn’t. Virginia was out somewhere at the time and he was out front pruning trees, so he didn’t know the water was out until I told him. He said he would ask them what was going on if they came by again and that they had just been by (the park maintenance people travel around on golf carts), and that he hoped it would be back on soon so he could rinse some crap he needed to rinse.

So we got to talking about the trees and shrubs on our properties and I was saying how I didn’t think we’d ever have the time to do all we wanted to do or the money to hire someone to haul away the stuff we didn’t want (though we might be able to get an extra dumpster from the office so we can get rid of more stuff at once) because we’ve been having financial setbacks lately with unexpected expenses coming up like the AC’s capacitor, car issues, and we still have to do the roof.

He then mentioned that he noticed Tom was having trouble with the car when he was out walking a couple of mornings ago. Yeah, he left something plugged in that drained the battery so he had to jump it. He said that he said to himself he would make one more round around the circle and then offer to help if he was still there, but he was gone.

Then I said something about the next people having to deal with and decide what to do with all the plants, but that we should be here for another five years or so and he said, “Good. We don’t want you to move.”

Aw, that’s the nicest thing he said and as I told him, we don’t want them to move either because they’re awesome neighbors. Yeah, I feel guilty about wishing his hands would fall off (and worse) every time he would annoy me with his power tools, LOL.

So then he goes, “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. We’ll be here till we croak.”

He said it in such a funny way that I couldn’t help but laugh.

The guy is in fantastic shape for just turning 88. He walks every morning, he rides his bike, he climbs on his roof to blow leaves out of the gutter, he takes beautiful care of his lot, he goes out golfing, etc.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 2017 I’m totally not looking forward to winter. I hate having to wear slippers and I hate long sleeves. Worst of all I hate being cold. I would definitely take Florida over this. Besides, no place is ever 100% “safe.” Certain places may be more prone to natural disasters, but hell, a meteorite could crash into my house right now. Nothing’s ever guaranteed. The only guarantee is that it’s going to get cold and I’m not going to like it. It’s already getting down to 74° in the house in the morning like it is right now and I’m freezing. I’m still a little hypo after letting my thyroid crash a bit due to the experiment I was doing, but I’ve always been super sensitive to cold. I like it between 76° and 78° in here. Seriously, where are the hot flashes when you need them?

I got a clever idea yesterday that looks great. The solar toys I have on the windowsill were propped up to see the sun better on little Dixie cups. We had an old broken fan on a stand that had crossbars for feet. I unscrewed them and used one of the bars to prop the solars up on and this looks a lot better than the cups. Another half-hour or so and they’ll all be swinging, bouncing and waving.

Am I a better writer or a better storyteller? I think I’m a better writer but Tom thinks I’m a better storyteller because I’m creative and all that. Okay so I don’t tell the worst stories but I wish I could write longer and more intricate plots. With ADD, though, it’s hard to focus on things that long. I have a shorter attention span, I run out of patience easily, and therefore I can end up getting bored with a story even if it’s a really good idea.

Childish or not it was fun to give Cindie A a piece of my mind on both Facebook and Twitter. Like Kim and Aly, she’s notorious for creating multiple accounts. I knew that because Lori is a mutual friend of ours Facebook would point her future accounts out to me in their ‘suggested friends’ section, and they did. Found the nutjob on Twitter too.

I realize that it may be childish and immature of me to stoop to her level, but I couldn’t help but surprise her and ask if she would have the guts to call me a cunt in person as she did online. Somehow I doubt she would.

Later…

I’ve been running all my journals through Grammarly for any errors that both Word and my own eyes may have missed. I’m up to the summer of 1995 now.

As I’ve said before, I may be quick to disbelieve or be unsure as to whether or not people really have dream premonitions had I not had any myself. And as I’ve also said, I’ve never had any concrete experience to prove there is a God, so I don’t know if there is one or not. Lastly, I could say I’ve never had any experiences with ghosts, despite a couple of weird things right before learning that my Italian Foster mom and then an old teacher of mine died, but maybe I have.

Back in 1995, I felt a “presence” in our home in Phoenix, AZ. It was a positive entity that never gave me any ill feelings. It never hurled our dishes across the room. It never turned our lights on in the middle of the night. It never did anything crazy like that.

I never sensed that they haunted the place in the traditional sense or anything like that and I didn’t think they’d ever been in the house when they were alive either. I got the impression that the spirit, ghost, entity, whatever… was young. Like in their 20s or 30s. The so-called “thing” somehow managed to “tell” me that they had died 10 years ago from cancer. Also, her name was Robin M.

So last night I was sitting here reading about a ghost that Andy was telling me about at the same time which he believed was haunting his place. When I shared my own story with him I asked him if it sounded crazy and he said that if it hadn’t been for his own experience with “Greg,” then yes, he would have thought it was crazy.

My first thought last night was that we were both absolutely nuts. Young, crazy, and totally delusional. I said to myself that I was crazy to have once believed in God and I was just as crazy to have believed that there was any kind of a ghost, friendly or not, in his place or mine. Especially one that Andy said he believed had his way with him in his sleep. He had to have just been lonely and imagined it or maybe he was batshit, right? And I was just as crazy and I had to have been imagining the whole “Robin” thing and somehow lost my grip on reality for some reason.

But then, just for the hell of it, I went to Legacy and I ran the name Robin M. One popped up in Phoenix and I’m like, no way! This has got to be a joke! Sure enough, I found that she died this millennium.

So now I’m back to the crazy theory, assuming I had simply lost my perspective on what was real and what was not for a brief time out of wishful thinking. Maybe I just subconsciously thought the idea of a ghost would be fun and exciting.

But then further research turned up something pretty damn shocking on ancestry.com. I’m not a paying member so I couldn’t get in to access the full information to find out where this person lived/died, but coincidentally or not, there was a Robin M who was born in 1957, the year Tom was born. She died in 1984. Well, in 1995 the entity said she had been dead for 10 years. Close enough.

So if I didn’t go Kim M for a little while there, then this is an absolutely amazing OMG kind of coincidence.

Do you believe in coincidences?

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 2017 I wished Kim a happy birthday and Sarah a happy 27th birthday and backed up another photo album even though Facebook still hassles me with the larger ones.

Wow, it seems like a whole lifetime ago that I was 27 years old. That’s when I met Tom. Although I was still a smoker and only knew three languages at the time, I had great vision, skin that didn’t need lotion, lips that didn’t need lip balm, hair that was devoid of gray, and a 100-pound body that probably had Graves’ disease. I was blissfully naïve in that I didn’t know what true financial insecurity and true terror meant.

But I also knew a lot less than I do now and I was a lot more sensitive and emotional in the wrong kinds of ways. Things had an effect on me back then that wouldn’t faze me now. I’ve always liked Olivia Newton-John, for example, but these days, to pass her on the streets would be no different than passing a total stranger. People are people. I’m just pretty nonplussed these days in general and harder to amaze and impress. I guess that just comes with being older as things become less new and exciting as you’ve either seen or experienced them a million times already.

The temps are slowly coming down and it will probably be a bit chilly in here come 7 AM or so. Definitely not looking forward to winter.

I’m going to shower soon and then go for a quick run, but this time I won’t be in a sleeveless shirt. I prefer to go out when there’s no direct sunlight. When it’s over 70° I go sleeveless. When it’s in the 60s I go in short sleeves. When it’s in the 50s I go in long sleeves. When it’s in the 40s I wear my hoodie. Under 40°… forget it!

I had a dream that Andy and I were talking again. Not gonna happen. Yes, I do miss him at times and I always will. I wish him the very best, but I don’t want to deal with the problems that come with being friends with such an insecure and non-trusting person who’s also very negative and insensitive at times. I just don’t care for arrogant people who think they know it all and who think everybody is lying to them about everything.

But yeah, sometimes I miss checking in with him on and off throughout the day on the old version of Ask, and sometimes I even miss some of the silly Aly/Kim/Molly drama as phony and as immature as it was. My online life has come to be a bit dull indeed, but at least it’s a lot calmer and safer.

I’m proud to say I’m not reading Aly’s tweets as much. The phony liar’s tweets are all about food, indirect cries for attention, and shows I’m not into. So there really isn’t much to see. I was mostly checking to see if she would mention rejoining Prosebox so I could look for her and hope to block her before she blocked me. But I do daily checks of the newcomers on PB. Because the threesome hasn’t stalked me in a while I’ve been more open to sharing the link to my profile there, so it’s no big secret anymore. I would probably be blocked before I realized they had joined, but I don’t care as much anymore. I meant it when I said I was determined to stop caring about those who didn’t care about me. Nor will I forgive and resume any friendships.

I also had a dream that I was working somewhere. I don’t know if she was just another coworker or some kind of boss but I seemed to really like some woman that worked with me doing whatever it was we did. She told me something about not returning to work until Tuesday but would try to get in sooner, knowing I would miss her.

While she was talking to someone else, I twirled round and round nearby three times with the kind of balance I don’t have in real life. I even thought of making up some story about someone mentioning my dancing ability so I could have the opportunity to mention having once been a dancer to her in hopes of impressing her but didn’t want to bullshit her by saying I had a conversation that I never had.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 2017 Yesterday I heard the loud car leave at 8:45. Still a little early, but I doubt the cock is working. How does it live? Off of mommy and daddy?

Last night I received a subpoena in my dreams that had to do with my dentist. I was quick to hide the thing from (Tom?) and was surprised that I was still allowed to see her since they called to confirm my next appointment the previous day.

Love my new ear cuff! It’s very comfortable, though I doubt I could sleep with it.

thoughts.com is just as fucked up as they always were. I decided to join with my new Xfinity email to see if things had improved over the years, but it just goes to show that some things never change. They’re just as fucked as ever. First I couldn’t upload an avatar, then I couldn’t post an entry, and now I can’t access the site because all I get is a blank white screen.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 2017 So much for the power of prayer for those who practice it because I got some bad news from Tammy. The part of her roof over the kitchen and dining area is leaking, her lanai has received heavy damage, and the trees and shrubs they put so much time and money into planting have been demolished.

Heart attacks, back surgeries, her car accident, two kids hospitalized at such a young age… is it me or does it seem like her life is actually worse since moving to Florida?

I’m guessing she has insurance to cover the damage but it still sucks, especially since the house is relatively young and roofs usually last 20-30 years. Pretty sure the house is something like 11 years old. Not sure if it’s inhabitable right now or if she’s still staying with the girls, but at least the house as a whole wasn’t picked up and tossed halfway across town, and the stuff inside it should be okay. I don’t think she can live there right now because she said she’s without power. Something like 10 million people are.

My cousin’s daughters posted that she and her husband are okay but that there’s “devastation all around them.” I can just imagine too, since Irma ended up hitting her side of the state more than Tammy’s. I’m hoping they’ll share pictures at some point.

This has really got me thinking… do I really want to move to Florida? Do I? Since Florida is dangerous and Hawaii is too expensive, maybe our best bet will be the Nevada desert. Still have a good 5-10 years to decide. I just know I don’t want to stay here and be so close to such busy roads for the rest of my life, and it would be nice if I only had to hear landscaping sounds once a week instead of nearly every day.

So nice to know that a fellow Proseboxer enjoyed my book and that she left a review. Only problem is the review is not visible and I wonder if there’s a delay with that appearing or if something went wrong along the way. Reviews are extremely important at this point even if they’re not 5-star.

I went to stain my hair yesterday and when I stepped out of the shower it looked like I hadn’t done a thing to it. The roots were just as gray as they were before. It hit me that my leave-in conditioner probably blocked the stain. So I jumped back in the shower, shampooed my hair, and then re-lathered up the staining shampoo, and now I have nice shiny dark brown hair. So as I’ve learned, it’s best to shampoo conditioners and oils out of your hair first to really lock in the color. The hair needs to be wet anyway, and this gets it wetter than if you just rinse it. It’s so much easier to use and so much easier to get even coverage, and all without the harsh smells and damage of traditional dyes.

When I first started using it I thought it was too dark for me, but I’ve gotten used to it and have come to like it. I got the perfect shade this time that’s dark but doesn’t look witchy.

Temperatures continue to be unusually high but by Thursday it will have dropped 20°. Alexa says there’s a 55% chance of rain tonight. I hope not because I want to go out for a late-night run, but then again, rain is refreshing in these temps. It’s the winter rain that sucks, but this winter I’ll be prepared with my little pink plaid rain boots and pink raincoat.

When I heard the loud car leave at something like 7:15 yesterday morning it gave me hope that perhaps they’re working again. The cock that drives it never struck me as a morning person unless it had to be. So I’m really hoping that’s the case so that during the week I only have to hear the fucking thing four times a day instead of six or more, cuz come on, they’re not going anywhere anytime soon any more than I’m going to be allowed the luxury of being able to take my meds every single day, month after month, without anxiety. If I ever am, it won’t be this year, and they’re not going anywhere this year either.

Soon I will be doing some editing on my next book and some cleaning.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 2017 In following Irma, I see that millions are without power. I hope Tammy isn’t one of them. It’s looking like her house should be okay, though, since it seems that the brunt of the storm has affected the west side more than the east side of the state.

The looting in Florida makes me sick. And of course it’s by blacks. What a surprise, huh? Some people really never do change, and burying ourselves in a sea of political correctness won’t change them either. It simply makes excuses for them. Some people simply can’t be changed, though. They are who they are and they would still be that way even if every person in the country turned against them.

I was kind of annoyed with Tammy and Sarah as well as with myself yesterday. I knew Becky injured her jaw but I didn’t know it was wired shut and that she’s been on a liquid diet since the accident and will continue to be for a couple more weeks. Tammy misunderstood and thought that I was sending flowers, not a fruit and sweets package. I totally regret not sending the flowers because Sarah has helped herself to most of it. At first, I was like, you little pig! I can see her eating some of it, especially the fruit since it would go bad by the time Becky could enjoy it, but a little willpower in saving some of the candy for when she could eat it would have been nice. I’m like, come on, you’re nearly 300 pounds and you’re not even 30 yet! She’s heading for real trouble in life because if anyone knows how much easier it gets to gain weight and how much harder it gets to lose it with age, it’s me. She’s going to end up diabetic for sure. Then again, her sister’s weight is seriously out of control as well. But yeah, I wish we’d spent a little less on flowers instead of shoveling out 80 bucks for Sarah to stuff herself with. No wonder she was so delighted when it arrived and posted a picture thanking us. It was a surprise treat she knew she could have all to her gluttonous self. I overindulge at times too, but 80 bucks of candy in less than three weeks?! Good, God!

My sister is a shitty writer with poor reading comprehension skills (or so it at least seems most of the time even though she’s an avid reader), but I could’ve been responsible for some of the poor communication as well. All I remember is showing her pictures of the treat basket and the flowers and her saying she’d love it and thanking me for my support, but I thought she was talking about the treats, which I thought I had told her I was leaning towards wanting to do something different than flowers and send something that would last longer. But apparently, Sarah has proven that candy won’t last much longer than flowers.

I slipped Becky a note apologizing and explained that while I knew her jaw was injured I thought she could still eat albeit slowly and carefully. She said it’s no problem and that it’s the thought that counts. While I’m glad that someone got to enjoy it rather than have it go to waste even if it wasn’t the intended recipient, I still wish I’d sent the flowers. Hopefully, there won’t be a next time to get it right. It’s sad that both of them at been in the hospital and they’re only in their 20s. Except for the time I had a breakdown and landed in the psych ward, I haven’t spent a night in a hospital since my teens and I don’t intend to until I’m old!

I had a snippet of vague dreams. In one of them, I was in a house with what may have been Tammy and I seemed to be afraid of some guy that was lurking about. Then I was tossing balls or rocks on some grassy knoll with a few people.

Then I was lying in bed in my cousin Lori and Lisa’s house. I was in Lori’s room, thinking that the room was squarer than I remembered it to be, and how noisy it must have been once upon a time with two little girls living in it and two little boys later on. In reality, I don’t know who moved in once they moved out, but I know that the door to the master bedroom wasn’t where it was in the dream.

In another dream, we were back in our Maricopa house. I awoke one day when Tom was at work and spent the day coloring in my pajamas in the room I used as an office. I then headed into the master bedroom because I was going to use the bathroom off of it when I spotted a truck with a small trailer attached to it driving by the bedroom window. Like right outside of it. I worried at first that vehicles going that close to the bed would wake me up but then I tried to console myself with how quiet this one was.

I stepped outside (still in my pajamas?) and found the land to be larger and devoid of vegetation than it actually was. I noticed workers just beyond the back property line and walked down to them to find they had dug a huge trench along the property edge. I asked what they were doing and they said that the trench would soon be home to over 500 chickens.

“Wouldn’t that stink?” I asked.

They gave some incoherent answer and then snickered.

I muttered something like, “Real fucking funny,” and left.

So glad Tom is as good as he is at fixing things because now my keyboard tray sticks out a lot further. Before I could only pull it out barely halfway. I don’t type nearly as much as I talk now but I still type enough.

He also fixed the bobblehead on one of the solar toys, but it still doesn’t work well. Oh well, what can I expect from a cheap toy from China that only costs a few bucks?

No blasting TV for the last three or four nights now, but of course we have to hear that insanely loud car several times a day.

Still liking the new phones a lot better, but there are a couple of standard features I’m surprised to find don’t exist. Most have a little microphone icon for speech-to-text yet Tom had to go through quite a bit to get it to appear.

There is also no blinking light to notify me when texts and messages come in. I tweaked some notification settings last night, but there was still no blinky when I got a voice message.

Voice messaging is really cool because it prints what the person said and if you still want to hear it there’s an option right there to click a speaker icon. We no longer have to go into our VM, enter a password, and then listen to it that way.

The memo app is really convenient for dream notes. If I wasn’t a writer and into collecting pictures, I could see myself getting by just fine with just a phone. It’s just not ideal for watching movies on, even with the bigger screen. Writing wouldn’t be so hard because of speech to text but editing would be a pain on the phone.

Speaking of editing, I have a few more chapters to go through and then I will submit the new version of A Rainbow in Munich for publication. Then I’m going to stain my hair again. :)

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 9, 2017 In one of last night’s dreams, Dr. O was leading me through a large building. All the while she was doing so, she was puffing on a cigarette. I was surprised she smoked.

Then I had a nightmare where I was home and home didn’t look anything like home, as usual. This home had a back door off the kitchen. Tom just left for work and the sun hadn’t fully risen yet. You could see shapes and shadows but no detail. I opened the back door and spotted the silhouette of what appeared to be a stocky guy sitting on a bench on the patio facing the door, one elbow leaning on the side rest, cheek resting against his fist.

“Who the fuck are you?” I demanded.

Not the slightest bit of movement.

“Who the fuck are you?” I demanded again, louder.

Still no sound or movement. I slammed the door and hurried to lock it only this door required a code to be entered from the inside as well as the outside and I couldn’t simply flip a deadbolt. It was dark and the panel didn’t light up so I was fumbling with the buttons and hoping I was hitting the right numbers. The dream ended with me thinking that I would flip the light on and double-check to make sure the door was locked and then I would run for my phone to call the cops and exit the front door.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 2017 I am so, so pissed off right now. The loud car house did exactly what I feared they would do and pulled their house off the market. Just like the last time they put it up for sale a couple of years ago, they couldn’t get what they wanted and so they gave up. So no, they likely weren’t evicted. I tried to tell myself not to be pissed because if it wasn’t for their loud vehicle it would be someone else’s, but I AM pissed. :-( I’m sick of them breaking rules with loose dogs and underage people living there and no one saying a damn thing about it. I really thought that in a retirement community, people would be quick to speak up when they saw people breaking rules. My mother had said one wrong move and you’re out when we were discussing moving to an adult community before her death. But this is the west where it’s considered a sin to complain about others, so that may be why.

But I don’t care if this is the west or not, although I did take measures to complain anonymously by inserting a bogus name/number. I don’t know if they’ll get the message, but I felt I had to do something and that this would be better than doing nothing at all. Maybe the 20-something guy has permission to be there, and if he does I apologize for complaining like I told them. But I would be willing to bet otherwise. He sure doesn’t smack of caretaker and I really don’t think he’s supposed to be here, so hopefully, they’ll investigate.

I can’t swear to it but I think the woman that lives there (there are like three generations of people) may teach water aerobics. In that case, she may be able to get away with more things easier. I haven’t seen the little girls in a while but as far as I know, there’s a whole family living there. Breaking a few rules here and there short term is one thing, but there have been minors there ever since we’ve been here and I really can’t believe no one else has noticed. If we’ve been able to figure this out from the other side of the circle, how can those who can see their place from theirs not have caught on? I think they have but are afraid to say anything and they’re not savvy enough to do it anonymously. People definitely don’t take well to complaints out here, but if they’re not supposed to be there and the office really does investigate, I don’t see how they would suspect us. We’ve never even talked to the people.

Anyway, after waiting forever to get my number transferred to the new phone, I’ve set it up and gotten to know it a bit and I definitely think it’s the best phone I’ve had as of yet. Much easier to navigate. I love how there are no ads on the lock screen and I can give individual contacts different ring tones and notification sounds. Changing wallpaper is easier and the voice recorder and memo thing are easy to use as well. Haven’t found a flashlight yet. I sent Tom and Tammy some things. I’ll probably use the speech-to-text in the memo thing for dream notes. There’s this really cool thing that lets me spell words by drawing them with my finger right on the screen.

My TSH is probably still in the teens because my skin is still dry, my nails are a bit brittle, my hair is a little thinner, and every time I walk into a room I forget why. Most importantly… NO anxiety! :-)

For just a couple of bucks from China, I got 2 large ocean stickers. I put one of them on my desk and it actually looks pretty good. The last of the solar toys arrived broken, so that’s 2 of them that are broken now. Tom’s good at fixing things like that.

I ended up walking twice yesterday. The first time it was kind of hot and there were a lot of people out and about along with traffic. I didn’t like having to break my stride by having to stop and wait for traffic, so I definitely prefer to go out later at night. It’s so quiet and peaceful then. I just have to watch for skunks. I took the ducks a few pieces of bread and I think I’ll take them the last of the old bread since the rats will be getting a new loaf tomorrow as Saturday is grocery day.

Tammy’s pretty anxious about her house due to the hurricane. She should have been evacuated by now although I don’t think it’s supposed to hit Florida until Sunday morning. I wonder if those who moved there are sorry they did every time there’s a hurricane. This one’s a biggy, too. :-( Fingers crossed!

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 2017 Traffic and landscaping during the daytime. Blasting TVs at night. I really can’t live in peace, can I? The “stroke” house is blasting their TV again. I can hear it all the way down in my bedroom. When I was out walking earlier I could not only see the TV through their window, but they had the window wide open. Do they have any idea just how fucking loud that thing is or do they not give a shit? I’m guessing the latter. But because it’s a lot easier to drown out than loud stereos and barking dogs, I’m keeping my mouth shut, even though I shouldn’t have to hear someone else’s TV at midnight. Especially in a retirement community and ESPECIALLY in a house. That’s just fucking ridiculous. But knowing what pussies people tend to be and how poorly they handle complaints, no matter how much in the right I may be, I don’t want to risk what shit they may give me thus possibly causing me to lose it on them.

They had their equally obnoxious car out a couple of times earlier. It’s not as loud as the one the kid drives, but loud enough to give them the gratification of knowing that they forced people to acknowledge them as they drove by. But yeah, I’d say the guy who had a stroke has recovered enough to start driving again. And blast the TV, of course. These people aren’t early to bed like most old folks. The TV is usually blasting between 9 PM and 1 AM. I don’t know how the people next to them and Bob and Virginia can stand it.

A couple of days ago I was thinking that they’re going to turn the water off again any time now, and I was right. We got a notice saying it’s going to be off tomorrow from 8 AM to 2 PM, but I should be asleep during those times.

Later…

For the first time in my life, I was thrilled when my doctor’s nurse called to tell me my TSH was at 15, and I explained why and all about the experiment I was doing to isolate the root cause of my anxiety for once and for all. I told her I started skipping every other day when I felt anxious a few weeks ago so I could see if I still felt that way when my TSH eventually got too high to be causing most of it (OMG, the dry skin I had for a couple of weeks there). While the medication still can and does fuel the anxiety if my TSH drops under 10, it’s great to know the meds aren’t the main culprit. If I’m ever going to be able to tolerate the single digits, though, it’s going to have to wait until I’m postmenopausal and my hormones have settled in. But yeah, it’s great to know that the root cause since I began being “stabbed” in the chest on and off since last December is mostly the perimenopause just like my doctor in Tammy said.

For now, I’ve agreed to take it every day that I can stand to (I’m not going to let the anxiety escalate to the point that my heart is racing and I’m on the toilet with the runs three times a day) and will skip doses if the anxiety picks up. For the most part, I haven’t had too many anxious days for a while and it’s now been a couple of months since I needed lorazepam. In six weeks I will return to the lab.

Thinking back on it now there are a few things I can see that definitely points away from the medication as being the root cause. I took a dose following a day where I felt anxious but didn’t have any anxiety the next day. So no accumulation issues or pocket flares there. I also haven’t had any lung tightness or “mindfuckers,” as I call those crazy and irrational flashes of dread I used to feel. No jitteriness either… All symptoms that you’re heading for trouble and going thyrotoxic.

For just one dollar each, we upgraded our phones to these really nice androids that will cost us anywhere from $3 - $14 a month depending on what data we DL. Yeah, a hell of a deal. I don’t understand why people pay hundreds for high-end phones when there are much cheaper phones that can do the same thing. Tom got one first and when I checked it out and decided I like it better than my other one, we went and ordered me one before this incredible sale is over. We had a little trouble at first but finally managed to transfer my number to the new phone. I hate to chat much but I do other things with it like play music on it when I’m out running. This one is easier to change wallpaper pics, create contacts, and tweak other settings. I love how I can give different people in my contacts different ringtones.

Hurricane Irma is heading Tammy’s way, last I knew. I guess she’s still going to the girls’ place and Mark will be holed up at work.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2017 Despite the fact that tons and tons of people have complained to Facebook about their public activity being flagged in their friends’ feeds, Facebook continues to do nothing to give people added privacy. Why is it so important to Facebook that our friends be informed of our public activity anyway? Hey, I just sneezed. Do all my friends really need to know that?

I found a really cool site I like but I want to keep it to myself because I know some people would gladly follow me there and I think we all need a little corner of the web all to ourselves where we interact with no one we know from other sites or in person. The only one I’ve mentioned it to is Tom. But of course, I can’t “like” or follow them on Facebook or else Facebook will take it upon themselves to inform my friends about it. Next thing you know Facebook is going to be telling all our friends when we take a dump. Being followed around on various sites can be flattering to some degree, but it can also be annoying, and depending on who you are, it just might even put the creep in creepy.

Well, for whatever it may be worth to my Facebook friends, I never follow the news feed. I see what’s on top when I check for messages, but if it’s any consolation to you, I don’t care what your latest level of achievement is in the games you play, I don’t care what friend you just wished a happy birthday to, and I don’t care if you “like” your local diner. Still want to know the important things going on in your life, though, so… Messenger!

Speaking of which, Tammy messaged me to say they are in fact going to be evacuated. Mark will be staying at work and she will be going to the girls’ place. Kind of makes me wonder if Florida would really be a good place for us. If I think traffic and other things wake me up enough of the time here, do I really want to add storms to the mix even though some storms can be really cool and actually kind of fun? And where the hell would we go if we were evacuated? To a school with a bunch of strangers, half of which let their unruly kids run around screaming up a storm?

She also said that Becky had a broken wrist but didn’t go into detail. She just had surgery to replace a break in two places in her arm so how she ended up with a broken wrist is beyond me. I don’t know if she reinjured herself or if the doctors fucked up.

I want to thank those who have bought my book. I appreciate it big time. I’ve been in one area or another of the arts and entertainment business most of my life and I can assure you it’s a very black-and-white world. You’re either a nobody who struggles or you’re rich and famous, and believe me, fame is the last thing I want. I don’t have enough look-alikes to be able to blend into public wherever I go. I’m smaller than the average woman and my face is kind of unique looking as well. So screw fame. Just buy my book. :-)

Becky’s GoFundMe account has only generated $305 from seven different donations. I’m kind of surprised since she has hundreds of Facebook friends but then again, who knows how real they are?

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 2017 So Locked-In is now live and waiting for sales and reviews. I just had the cover picture repositioned so the chain isn’t too close to the edge of the cover, and added my middle name. These simple changes that should be instantaneous are going to take up to 72 hours, so I don’t know if the original link will still work once the changes are visible.

I’m so glad I made an appointment at the lab today otherwise I would have been waiting for at least an hour. On their big-screen TV, you can see how much time each patient has. It was nice to be in and out, though. Even if the place was dead and peaceful, sitting for an hour in a waiting room isn’t my idea of a good time.

Tom said someone complained while I was in with the vampire about being there an hour and wanted to know why others could just walk right in. I guess not everyone knows that you can make an appointment. I also like how you can check in on the little tablets they have set up instead of having to wait and check in at the desk.

Anyway, because I was anxious yesterday I expected to get hit with anxiety today, but so far I’m okay. Not sure I want to push it and take my medication tomorrow, though. We’ll see how I feel. I remember from the last time I got really bad with the 88 mcg attempt that there were days when I didn’t feel that anxious. The anxiety kind of zigzagged upward before it came to a head. So just because I feel calmer today doesn’t mean I won’t be anxious tomorrow. For the first time in my life, though, I’m actually hoping my TSH is high because that would point much more toward the perimenopause than the medication. But sadly, as much as I would like to believe that the perimenopause has been responsible for most of the anxiety I’ve experienced over the last few years, I know better. It’s the meds. My TSH is back in the single digits.

The weather is hot and unusually humid. It almost reminds me of the monsoon season in Arizona. From what Tom said he read, Tammy should be getting slammed with rain but not evacuated due to Hurricane Irma.

Last night or the night before I was annoyed with the planes again. I hear some buzzing around up there right now. Really hope it’s not going to be going on for too long.

What I’m really, REALLY sick of is that fucking car. That house isn’t going to sell this year if it sells it all. Last night it came and went after midnight. Just because we assumed they got evicted doesn’t mean they definitely did. Therefore a part of me wonders if we should ask the office if they know they have a 20-something living here who clearly isn’t a caretaker and who comes and goes in their insanely loud car night and day, but I’m not sure what good it would do. It really sucks that their job didn’t last long because then I only heard them four times a day during the week. But as Tom pointed out, even if the office learned about them right now, eviction takes time. It’s not like they could be thrown out in a month.

Also, wishing the car would end up totaled is pointless because they’re the type that would replace it with something just as loud. This car isn’t naturally this loud. They made it this loud. As I always said about those with insanely loud car stereos, I really have to wonder about anyone who feels the need to get the attention of people they don’t even know. Why is it so damn important to them that the people they pass by hear them? Were they stifled as children that they feel such an intense desire to be heard? What happened in their life to make them that desperate, needy and insecure to put that much work and money into being acknowledged by anyone within hearing range even if they don’t know them from a hole in the wall? This isn’t only a candid show of rudeness and inconsideration, but a vivid display of serious lack of self-respect as well.

And why aren’t there laws against this kind of shit? Doesn’t this count as needless noise pollution?

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 2017 I was backing up Pinterest boards on Facebook but I’m not sure if I’m going to continue because every time I try to upload an album of pictures they hassle me. They want me to input codes and no matter how many times I input them correctly, I keep receiving new codes. And as always, you can complain and complain all you want to Facebook but Facebook just doesn’t care.

Damn, I hate that site! Hassles, glitches and a newsfeed littered with “suggested” posts and friends’ interactions with their friends as opposed to what’s actually going on with them. If it weren’t for Messenger I would have gotten rid of it years ago.

I’m also not sure if I want to keep my journal public because I’m tired of having to watch what I say. I don’t care if I hurt someone’s feelings by expressing my opinion about whatever because when we read people’s journals we have to assume we may not like or agree with everything we read. But I don’t want to accidentally share mine or other people’s sensitive info.

I’m kind of torn because on the one hand, while I like being surprised by people visiting and sharing feedback from all over the world, and while I may be tempted to spread my social butterfly wings both in person and online, I think of Aly and Stacey and I’m reminded that anyone can abandon us at any time or lead us on. They really put a complex on me. One minute I think it would be nice to meet new people and make new friends, but then I remember all the trouble they can bring. I’m just too old for any toxic drama. I don’t need it and I don’t want it and I don’t know if it’s worth putting myself in a position to have to deal with it. The older I get the less sociable I am and while it may be boring at times, it is certainly safer. So I’m not sure what I’m going to do as far as journaling goes. A part of me wants to go private and just share with those I’m closest to on Facebook. Then another part wants to go somewhere in between like what I’m doing now where I share mostly on PB and FB. And yet another part of me misses blogging on several sites. I hate being so indecisive. It’s frustrating.

There’s also the fact that what I may consider public now might be something I’ll want to make private later on and vice versa. If I end up parting ways with someone on ill terms, then I’m obviously going to be less hesitant in what I say about them. But if we later patch things up, even though I try not to be too forgiving, then I may wish I hadn’t spoken so freely about any problems we may have had. So what I share publicly tends to be generic stuff and things that don’t really involve others in much detail. It also depends on who they are. I’m more open to writing about Bob, for example, because he doesn’t go online, not that he should be offended by my saying we exchanged hellos or anything like that. I don’t mind bitching about or praising Jane Doe or Joe Schmoe to Tammy, though, because hey, she’s my sister. She’s runner-up to Tom in the I-know-Jodi-best department. Speaking of my aloof sister, I haven’t been able to get any info out of her about her surgery, so I’m guessing there were no major complications. She’s been able-bodied enough to check into Facebook regularly so that right there is a good sign. She may still be in some pain but at least she’s alive.

I deleted my story account since I plan to publish dozens of books over the next few years. I was thinking that rather than raise the price higher than I had the last two set at which were $3, I might have them all be $.99, especially since most of them are short stories.

We went to Jack-in-the-Box a couple of hours ago and the burger and fries I had should sustain me for 5-6 hours.

I’m down a few pounds because yesterday I got sick as hell with really bad diarrhea. Kick-ass stomach cramps too. I’m not sure what caused it. Still with the Baby Oil rash too, but it’s getting better.

Finished watching S1 of Gypsy. It’s about a therapist who’s oh-so normal but pretty fucked up at the same time, and who becomes infatuated with some of her patients and follows them around. Sound familiar? I highly doubt Stacey “followed” me around, though it wouldn’t surprise me if she has Googled me and checked my Facebook and blogs. Probably still does, if only every once in a while. Despite our little problem, if you could really call it that, I do miss her at times and I really appreciate all the help she gave me. I realize no one’s perfect and I certainly don’t hold anything against her. I just get tired of some people being all for one thing one minute and just the opposite the next minute. She gave me every indication to believe we’d keep in touch every now and then.

I also don’t ever again want to be led to believe that I’ve got a friend for life in someone just to find out later on that that isn’t so. Yes, people were meant to come and go in our lives. Sometimes they give us a reason to dump them. Sometimes they dump us. Sometimes they tell us why on their way out of our lives and other times they just ghost us. The point is that while I do get used to it, I get tired of dealing with it just the same. It gets old after so many years.

Tom began reading my story Locked-In which will soon be submitted for publication. He said my stories are always good but my writing style is still a bit erratic at times.

I hate to wake up all the rats but we’ve got to change their cage, and hey, sometimes they have to function on our schedule, like it or not. They get free room and board and food, haha. But after some hugs and kisses, they’ll go back to sleep till sundown.

Later…

It had been a while since I searched for any new diary/journal sites that I might like, so I did a search earlier and found GoodNightJournal. It says it’s been around since 2013 and I wonder how I never stumbled upon it before. I

If I suddenly turned my entries on LiveJournal public, and maybe even some of the books that are private on PB, my family would probably never know they were there, but it’s not worth the risk. Tammy had to have joined PB (and I don’t doubt that “Tammy” was indeed her), then refused to tell me about it for a reason. I think she was looking to see if she could see anything from a member’s POV. So there’s some degree of curiosity on her part which tells me she may actively look for some things. Most people don’t know this, but if you share the same content in different places you may be able to copy and paste a sentence or two into Google’s search engine and bring up all the locations it’s in. Hopefully, she’s not smart enough to know she can do this, but like I said, I’m not too worried about it.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 2017 The dream I had a couple of nights ago now makes sense. We went to the lab at 9:30. The last time we were there at that time it was dead, but this time there wasn’t a single seat available and we knew it would be about an hour’s wait. So we decided to leave and schedule me for Tuesday afternoon, and we did. Maybe that was why Tom’s answer made no sense at all when I asked him in the dream what my numbers were… Because I wasn’t getting blood drawn today. This is good, though, as it gives me a few more doses to push my TSH down. No anxiety and I’m on the 8th consecutive dose. Wish I could always take it every day and not have a problem like most people. Why is it always me that has to struggle with so many things in life? Really wish I could get the damn gland removed so pocket flares would no longer be an issue and affect how the meds affect me.

I had a positive dream pertaining to gays and adoption, like they were going to be allowed to adopt nationwide, but they pretty much already can, as it should be. Maybe something else positive will happen to them.

Kathleen was also in my dreams but I don’t remember what they were about. Definitely looking forward to seeing her more than Holly in a few weeks, even though Holly has always been very kind and does a great job cleaning my teeth.

I cooked fries and shrimp together in our oilless fryer. Love the thing! Trying frozen chicken wings later on.

Got a couple of really cute stickers from China to decorate the light switch plates with. They look adorable.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 2017 It’s a very hot and hazy day out there today with temperatures expected to reach 108°.

We’re looking forward to setting up the larger shower with the new shower massage and caddies. Getting metal shower caddies was a big mistake because of the way they get rusty. The new one isn’t plastic but it’s coated wire. I should have done this years ago because I’m tired of not having any elbow room in that tiny phone booth of a shower stall in the other bath, and I’m barely 5 feet. There are a couple of caddies actually. One is a tension pole with 4 adjustable shelves.

So that’s my shower news. In household news, the laundry is done and the house is relatively clean.

In health news, I’m feeling okay. A lot less lightheaded. I don’t know if it’s because I went back on the Amberen or because my TMJ isn’t bothering me at the moment, but I don’t care. I’m just glad when I feel better. I’m maybe a touch tired, but I don’t need to do anything physical for it to matter, since I already exercised, and any editing or other work that requires concentration has been done for the day.

Over the long weekend, our goal is to submit Locked-In for publication on Amazon.

In dreamland, I went to visit Eileen but she didn’t seem too happy to have me around even though I pretended not to notice.

Then I dreamed that I’d already been to the lab (that’s on for tomorrow) and Tom said he saw my numbers online. He first mumbled something about them that made absolutely no sense and then I asked in an impatient voice, “What is my TSH?!” He then told me they weren’t posted.

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indiaalphawhiskey · 2 years ago

Note

Hi love ❤️ I’ve seen you’ve been missing writing and while I don’t want to burden this on you (please only respond if thinking and writing about this gives you joy) I wanted to share these two pics I keep connecting in my brain as if they happened at the same moment.

Harry walks by Louis’ desk. Their eyes meet.

And I keep wondering, what is going on here? Do you know?? 👀

Ask and you shall receive. 😘

— (loosely) based on Can You Keep A Secret? by Sophie Kinsella

—————

Harry was barely able to fight another yawn as he stood up from his incredibly new, incredibly bare, incredibly normal office desk.

As he closed his laptop and slipped it in his bag, he tried not to be too disappointed. All in all, the day had gone pretty well.

Ish.

Okay, so it had kind of been dead boring, but that was partially Harry’s fault for expecting too much. Apparently, almost dying on a horrifically turbulent flight halfway across the world to get a foot in the door of your dream job at an indie record label tended to lead to a rather anticlimactic first day. Who knew?

Like, not that Harry expected Elton John to walk through the halls or anything (that would be ridiculous; he was signed by Universal, everyone knew that), but like, maybe some grungy up-and-comer he could brag to all his friends about finding in a garage in the future.

Or, even the rumored new (hot), young (hot), brilliant (hot), openly gay (and hot) CEO, at least. Just to, like, confirm the rumors of the insanity of his hotness, you know?

But alas, the Mystery Boss had been holed up in a twelve-hour meeting that hadn’t even stopped for lunch, and God, did Harry somehow get tricked into working for the indie record label version of JP Morgan?

He grimaced. Considering his luck last weekend, he wouldn’t put it past the universe.

But just as he let out another quiet sigh, a petulant pout already forming on his lips, the door to the fortress that was Conference Room A opened. And because Harry was nothing if not nosy, he craned his neck just enough to take a harmless little peek inside at the head of the table.

It happened like lighting — blue eyes, and a smart smirk, and a 28 tattooed on his fingers.

And, thinking about that exact moment in hindsight, Harry would bet everything he owned that if there was a way his soul could have simply left him to die from embarrassment right then, it probably would have because…

“Flight 568, this is your captain speaking.”

“Oh God,” Harry whimpered over the crackling of the speaker as the plane rattled wildly all around them, “oh God, we’re going to die. Our captain is about to tell us we’re going to die,” he said, clutching the fingers of the stranger beside him without bothering to spare a thought to manners or like, boundaries. What on earth did he need manners for, now that they were clearly about to fucking die?

“We’re not going to die, mate,” the stranger said, his Northern accent calm.

But Harry wasn’t listening.

“Uhhh, we are,” he deigned to argue, even with the panic that was rising in his throat with each new violent shake. Then, suddenly, faced with the mounting reality of his mortality, Harry blurted out, “I lied on my CV.”

A beat of confused silence before, “O…kay—?”

“I just really wanted this job, you know?” Harry continued, because apparently, the precipice of death made him chatty. “It’s literally the dream. Like, the job I’ve wanted to do my whole entire life but never thought I’d have a shot at? That job.”

“I… see—”

“So I lied,” Harry repeated, just in case this stranger didn’t understand the depth of his betrayal. “And then I got it, and… and… Oh God—“ Harry wailed, squeezing his eyes shut as the plane rocked like it was made of paper, “And now I’m going to die, and they’re going to know. They’re going to know that I lied about where I went to school and I’m going to be dead, and my super hot new boss is gonna fire me posthumously, which is really unfortunate because I’m pretty sure he’s the kind of hot I would probably let fuck me in against a glass window, you know?” he asked, nervously forcing a laugh as he chanced a quick glance at the stranger.

He was met with blue eyes.

Blue eyes, and a smart smirk, and a 28 tattooed on the fingers Harry was currently crushing in his vice grip.

The stranger chuckled easily. “I’m nervous about my new job too.”

And…

“Oh God,” Harry said then, the horrible horrible truth sinking into his stomach as he watched his new (and now confirmed super, insanely hot) boss narrow his eyes thoughtfully at Harry through the slightly open door, before his brow began to lift in slow, amused recognition.

Oh. God.

#iaw ask #awesomefringey ask #iaw drabble #can you keep a secret

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marvelwitchergilmore · 2 years ago

Text

Dance with me, Darlin’

Description; Beau Arlen x Reader - After a long case, Beau gets you to open up to him about what’s really been going on.

Warning: Criminal Minds level Violence, mentions of death etc.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When you had first made it to Big Sky, it had been...a journey. Going from working as just a street cop in Ohio to heading back home to Virginia to work as a Homicide detective for a while, to then heading to work with the FBI in their Behavioural Analysis Unit for a while to just six months ago getting a call saying they had a more...calming job for you in Montana. Big Sky, to be more precise.

But that was just the bigger journey of life. The car ride into Big Sky was also kinda hectic.

You had hit multiple pieces of traffic along the way. You had dealt with at least two empty tanks - mostly because of the traffic. And then your car had finally broke down outside of a Private Investigator’s office.

God, that felt like a life time ago.

You, with annoyance clear in your aura, got out of the car. The door slammed a little too hard than you had wished it to behind you, but you couldn’t concentrate on that right now.

At least your home that you were renting wasn’t that far. Maybe a 10 mintue walk?

“Screw you.”

“Is everything okay?”

You turned around to see a dark haired woman and a blonde one stood side by side, clearly just having come from the building in front of you.

“Yeah.” The words came out as both relief and annoyance. “Just this stupid thing. I’ve got extra fuel in the back.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You looked back to her from the trunk of your car.

“I’m Cassie, by the way. This is Jenny.” You shook their hands.

“Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

The cloud of annoyance had now grown sparse, slowly developing into plain tiredness as you flipped the cap off the fuel tank.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “like I said; this stupid thing. Traffic all the way coming up here...it’s a freaking nightmare.”

“Where are you travelling from?” Jenny asked.

“Uh...Virginia.” you answered. But it wouldn’t have really mattered what you had said since she was round the front of your car checking out your plates.

To be honest, you couldn’t blame her. Some wild stranger breaks down in front of your building? You’d be curious and cautious, too.

“I’m...uh...I’m meant to be starting a new job in-” you checked your watch. Oh, crap. “In a couple of hours.”

“Where are you starting?”

“Police department.” you answered, chucking the closed and empty fuel container back into the trunk and closing the top.

“Oh, I’m deputy Sheriff.” Jenny answered.

“Jenny...Hoyt.” you then looked up to the building sign. Dewell and Hoyt. “God, I-I should have made the connection. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” she smiled. “It’s been a long drive.”

“About four days.” you added. “I don’t fly. I know it’s easier but...I don’t like it.”

“You’re scared of flying?”

“Maybe a little.”

Even the conversation about planes made you on edge.

“Well, you’re lucky. Most things you’ll need are within driving distance.”

You smiled. “Great.”

“I’m just about to head to the station. You can follow me up. They’re doing something on the main road so you’ll have to take the back ones.”

“Okay.” you answered. “Well, it was nice to meet you.”

“You too.” Cassie smiled. “I’m sure we’ll see one another again, soon.”

“Probably.” you agreed.

You’d heard a couple of stories about Jenny and Cassie in the last couple of months before you made the transfer. All good. Mostly badass.

“You’ll get to meet our Sheriff but I have to warn you, he’s a chatty one.”

You smiled. “Kinda gathered.” You had been on the phone twice in total with Sheriff Beau Arlen. Both were pleasent experiences. He seemed liked a good man, and a good Sheriff. You explained all of this to Jenny and Cassie.

By the time you had made it to the Police Department you had already fallen in love with Deputy Poppernak. He was a nice change from the seriously-stern-oak-tree-shoved-up-their-asses cops you’d dealt with in your time. Most of them believed they were Agents at the FBI and had the same power as judges in court.

And it was nice to have a Sheriff who clearly understood his job but still managed to find the light in certain situations.

Working with the BAU and as a cop had shown you how terrible some of them could be at their jobs. How they didn’t actually want the job or how they only took it so they could seem powerful compared to everyone else.

It wasn’t long before you began to feel like you fitted in, in Big Sky.

Whenever you had time, you’d go and hang out with Jenny and Cassie at the Boot Heel - Beau joining 80% of the time. Or you were with Denise in Dewell and Hoyt. She’d tell you all the gossip that was going on in town over a lasanga or tacos. And then, if you weren’t at home on your own, you’d be with Popp in the Police Department. He’d tell you all about his family and fishing whenever you both had to go through boring paperwork.

But that wasn’t to say you’d all had your fair share of dangerous situation.

There had been a couple of cases from three homicides to kidnappings. Your expertise in Behavioural Analysis came in handy on most cases. It gave the department an opportunity to see the crime from another point of view. One they hadn’t fully had before.

But, in recent weeks one case had been getting to you. And that was something they all could see.

From the moment the case came in, your blood had frozen over. It felt all too similar. All too familiar. And when Beau had to pull an old file - a file you had seen too many times to count - that was when the shift fully set in.

Three girls dead. Three more taken in the space of a few weeks. And one of those three died in a ‘fire’ the night before.

For weeks, you worked day and night with the rest of the team. At first, you did everything in your power to avoid the topic. To avoid the case. But you couldn’t.

And that had all come to a head just a few hours ago.

Finally! Freaking finally! He’d been outsmarted. Cornered.

But you were the only one there.

And you froze.

All those years. All those nightmares. They all came down to this man. This sick, twisted, vile man.

His voice just echoed in your ears, over and over as he moved around the empty room, going unnoticed. You didn’t know what to do, where to point your gun? As much as you had him trapped, he had you in just the same position.

“Do they know?” he’d asked you. “Do they know that you think of me?”

Your blood was rushing faster, and faster, and faster. Until finally...Jenny rushed inside. He came out of hiding. And you shot. But not before he shot first.

He couldn’t fully see where to point, but he got you anyway. Just a graze. But he still got you.

Jenny had stopped dead in her tracks looking between the body on the floor and you. She could see the look in your eyes. The same look she’d seen every time they discussed the case. Only, now it was more clear.

It was a look of fear, panic and anger.

“It’s over.” was all you said as she slowly took your gun from your hands which still had it pointing up - but you were slowly lowering it. And, eventually, you managed to make eye contact with her when she placed a hand on your shoulder, too. “It’s finally over.”

Jenny nodded. “It is.” before she looked to the door and saw Beau. He’d checked the man’s pulse. Gone. Forever.

“Hoyt!” Popp called from behind them.

“Is okay,” Beau reassured Jenny as he placed a hand on your other shoulder and arm. “I’ve got her.”

Jenny nodded before rushing to find Poppernak.

“Come on, let’s find a medic.”

You hadn’t spoke a word after that.

Beau led you outside to a medic, standing to the side a little so he could watch them patch you up. You’d live. It might hurt for a few days, but you’d be okay.

And now, you sat in a booth at the Boot Heel.

You would have probably been sat either in Dewell and Hoyt or at home, alone. But Beau had dragged you out to go with him, Jenny and Cassie to the bar. Clearly, this case was more than just a case. And he needed to know why.

“Hey,” Beau knocked your leg with his foot gently under the table. You were sat with one leg and arm up on the back of the booth, your back leaning against the wall as you watched the others in the bar dance to the band. “Talk to me.”

You pulled yourself from your thoughts and looked at him, taking hold of the cold beer beside you.

“What?”

“This case.” Beau stated. “Clearly it meant something to you. I tried to check your records with it and it’s all blacked out. And I want answers. I need answers.”

You sighed. You were going to have to tell them at some point. You had hoped you’d never have to speak of it again. You had a pscheval that cleared you. You had medical exams that cleared you. You were capable of working the case. You had worked the case. But that didn’t stop the reality of something this big hitting you.

“It’s just me and you, Darlin’.”

That was true.

Cassie and Jenny were at the bar being chatted up by two guys.

Beau let you take a moment. You shifted your bullet-grazed arm from the back of the booth chair and place your other leg on the ground before finding the courage - all while scratching the label from your beer bottle - to look at him.

You took a deep breath and slowly began to explain.

“It was back when I worked Homicide.”

“Okay,”

“I was going from case to case. Most offenders left so much DNA behind we caught them soon enough. But then this once case came in. A young girl. 15. Missing. I didn’t worked missing person’s cases but it had made it’s way through to me. She’d been missing for a month an she matched a Jane Doe I had come across about a week earlier. No DNA. No evidence. No nothing. Until one of my deputies came through with a patern. It was our guy. Countless of women across the city. In my part of town, it had only been two women but across Virginia? Maybe 15? Anyway, the case went cold but I kept it open. But then I got the call to join the BAU. I took it but the case stayed with me and then one day...another girl came through. And another. And another. He was esculating. And we thought we had caught the guy - turns out it wasn’t him.”

“How’d you know?”

“I got a package in the mail the next morning.” you answered. It was like it was just yesterday. “A photo, a note and a piece of burnt flesh. Hers. He’d got another girl. We found her two days later. For months we worked on the case and each time we came close but he knew.” You gave a small laugh, an angle of your head and a scratch of the label again. “He always knew. Always just one step ahead of us.”

You paused for a short moment, trying to put your emotions on hold for the next few moments. But Beau just waited.

“Anyway,” you could feel your nerves starting to get to you now. “The case had gone cold. Again. Until I got home after a case in Florida. Everything was normal. I thought I was safe.”

This wasn’t good.

“Until I was stood in my kitchen and was taken from behind. We faught. I managed to grab a kitchen knife and stab him but he found my gun hidden under my kitchen island while I was away. Shot be twice before using my blood to write on the floor beside me. You’ll never catch me. I’ll always be with you. That’s what he wrote. I was in the hospital for a few weeks. But when I went back...it wasn’t the same. One of my teammates, Emily...she’d gone back to my house to try and scrub away the blood but it was like I could still see it. Like I could still see my blood around me and on me. Then, after a few months, I got the call from the Director about a slightly calmer job. They knew I wouldn’t stop working so maybe a calmer situation was best.” You looked back to Beau, a small smile on your face. “And then you called. And I took the job and...now we’re here.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You looked down for a moment and closed your eyes, shaking your head. “Don’t be. I had - well, the Director and I had one of the tech analyisists black out my file. Garcia - even she couldn’t get into it. The team knew most of what had happened to be but some things I wanted to keep to myself.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this earlier?”

“I didn’t want to go back.” you answered honestly. “I have enough flashbacks as it is. And my team back in Quantico...they all knew and I could see that look in their eyes. That look that was watching my every move, just waiting for me to explode or crumble. I love them, but I couldn’t take it. And I can’t take it from any of you, either.”

“Well...” Beau made sure you were looking at him. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

You nodded with a weak smile on you face. “I know.”

A few minutes of silence passed between you two. Cassie and Jenny were still busy at the bar and the band was still playing. You were watching people dance on the wooden floors and, as Beau turned back to look at you, he got an idea.

Shifting from his side of the booth, he finished his ceer and held his hand out.

“Come on.”

You looked to him with a small laugh. “What?”

“We’re dancing.” he told you. “Come on.”

“Beau...”

He held out his hand, that look in his eye. He wasn’t letting an opportunity like this pass.

“Dance with me, Darlin’.”

You looked to the crowd with a small scoff - was he really asking you to dance?

“But I don’t know how.”

He gave a small shrug and pout. “We’ll learn together.”

It took a moment, but you agreed and he took your hand, pulling you up and towards the dance floor.

“Like this?” You placed your hand in his and your other on his arm.

Beau nodded, then placing his hand on your waist to pull you a little closer and you both, slightly awkwardly but still comfortable, danced.

He spun you out before pulling you back in and before you knew it, the awkwardness was gone and replaced with smiling faces and laughter.

Meanwhile, back at the bar Jenny handed Cassie a 10 dollar note.

“What-?”

“Look.”

On the dance floor, yourself and Beau were now in a slightly slower dance. Close. Intimate. Or close to it, anyway. Either way, Jenny knew she’d lost.

Cassie smiled widely. “Ah-ha. I knew it.”

“Yeah, yeah, gloat all you like.” Jenny took a sip of her beer.

“Before you know it, they’ll be like Bonnie and Clyde but on the good side of the law.”

Jenny pointed to Cassie as she swallowed her beer. “I am not betting you on that.”

“Ten bucks it’s in the next two years.”

Jenny grumbled. “Fine. But this time I am having Denise take note because I’m still sure I won the bet about those two becoming friends.”

“Hell no, I won that one.”

“Whatever you say.” Jenny answered before they both looked back to Beau and yourself.

“They look happy, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” Jenny smiled. “They do.”

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sandbees · 4 years ago

Text

A few about the Great Seven interacting with Twisted Wonderland characters VIA Yuu. 👀 I only have one word summary; Chaos.

Who would meet the Great Seven first? Obviously the first years (along with Ortho and Grim). They’re Yuu’s best friends after all.

Actually, it was Friday, the last day of the week. And coincidentally, that night would be a special night at the House of Mouse. Ariel and her sisters would be performing that night.

Mickey told Yuu that that they could invite anyone to watch the performance. So Yuu went to get special permission to take their friends along with them.

After kidnapping Ortho After Yuu gathers everyone, they explain that they’re going out to see a special performance at their workplace.

Keep in mind that no one knows exactly what Yuu’s new job was except Grim and Crowley. So naturally everyone was in on it and curious. (Only Grim knows about Yuu meeting the Great Seven though)

Ace: So where do you work at?

Yuu: I work at a club.

Epel: ...As in a strip club or a book club?

Yuu: Wtf Epel? It’s like a club but no alcohol. It’s technically a restaurant but they have live shows and put on a lot of performances so-

Deuce: Oh! That’s cool, we get to see it together!

Yuu: Actually I’m not going to be with you guys. I’m on duty that day so I’ll be waiting tables. But I’ll join during break.

Ace: Really? Bummer.

Ortho: Aw, I wanted to hang out with you too! But it will be fun nonetheless. :D

Yuu tells them to wait downstairs as they go upstairs to get everything ready.

They are low-key nervous, because the House of Mouse isn’t...exactly normal by Twisted Wonderland standards.

Meanwhile, Grim was telling the first years about Yuu’s experiences there.

Grim: You know, the House of Mouse is really popular, I’ve heard about a lot of customers Yuu has met.

Deuce: This job must have been hard...I’m glad Yuu got it though!

Grim: Yeah, they pay them 5,000 madol! Isn’t that great?!

Sebek: 5,000 madol?! That’s a lot more than being a waiter.

Ace: In a week? I mean having a salary of 5,000 is pretty impressive.

Grim: Hehe, it’s actually 5,000 a day.

First Years: WHAT?!

Jack: To be able to pay that much...the owner must be wealthy.

Epel: Yuu lucked out!

When Yuu comes down, the first years are asking a billion questions.

How did you find a job with such a high pay??? Is the work good?? Is your boss nice to you?? Explain everything-

Yuu assured them that their job is just waiting a bunch of tables, and that they’re payed well because the place is very popular.

Anyways, Yuu tells them that they’re going now and leads them upstairs.

“Shouldn’t we be going to the hall of mirrors-?” “It won’t work.”

The group kind of loses their mind as Yuu casually pushes Ace into their mirror, Grim follows behind.

“Come on, or do I have to push you through the mirror like I did with Ace?”

Safe to say is that they go through the mirror and are greeted with a very lavish dressing room.

“Wait woah this isn’t Mickey’s dressing room.”

Yuu finds a note and read it out loud. Apparently Mickey moved the mirror to a new room so they could have privacy. Anything in the room is for their use.

“I’m going to cry. He’s so nICE I DON’T DESERVE THIS-“

Yuu is pretty happy with this arrangement, actually. They also begin to explain the club’s shtick to their friends.

“So this is basically a club for entertainment with live shows and also cartoons on the screen. Oh, and sometimes a cat named Pete tries to sabotage the show so he can kick everyone out and make this his club.” “Isn’t that illegal-“ “Not if there’s no police.”

So anyways Yuu leads them outside and they run into Goofy.

Sebek: Is that-?

Yuu: Hi Goofy, I’m bringing my friends to a table for the show-

Goofy: Yuu! There you are! You’re needed at table 14.

Yuu: What? But my shift hasn’t started-

Goofy: Reservations from Hades himself.

Yuu: Oh shit, ok yeah I’ll be there as soon as possible-

Ortho: Hades? As in the God of the Underworld?

Yuu: Yes, I’ll explain later, more importantly let’s go find you a table.

Ace: I think not telling us you actually met one of the GREAT SEVEN!

Yuu: I did tell you; and you didn’t believe me.

Everyone is vibrating in nervousness and excitement. Especially Ortho. I mean, this is the GREAT SEVEN we’re talking about!

Yuu decides to introduce them to Hades. But surprise surprise, it’s all of the Great Seven!

Yuu’s first year friends are going to pass out from shock. Oof.

With some inquiry, Yuu explains to the Great Seven that the friends they brought were from Twisted Wonderland.

Let’s just say that the First Years got invited to sit at their table. (Sebek is quaking at the idea of sitting with the Witch of Thorns)

So while Yuu leaves to start work (not after taking all of their orders first, of course), the Great Seven begin asking the first years + Grim questions.

The first years are expectantly tense, but they loosen up.

Ursula and Jafar are a little disappointed that no one from their dorm is present, but they seem to easily forget that after Yuu tells them that they know people from their respective dorms anyways.

Yuu also gives them a little more information they found about their respective dorms, so that they don’t feel...left out? (Satisfied is a better word for it)

Ursula pets Grim and Jafar feeds him crackers. Grim does not complain, he’s fine. He becomes more compliant as his tuna arrives.

And some of the other’s thoughts? Well...

The Queen of Hearts almost blew up in anger at Ace and Deuce. They are idiots that do nOT KNOW THE PROPER WAY TO SPEAK TO THEIR SUPERIORS AND THEY HAVE BROKEN AT LEAST 359 RULES ALREADY-

But somehow, the Queen of Hearts warms up to the idiotic duo. She sees them as...annoying children she has to babysit but they’re also really adorable that she can’t stay mad at them forever. Plus, Deuce is trying and Ace has these wonderful card tricks that would make her Jester cry.

So at first, she does not approve, but as the night progresses she does. 8/10 would meet the ADeuce combo again.

Scar and Jack...hm. Well, I don’t think they’d get along of Scar’s sense of morality and justice of the past was brought up. However, the villains all agreed to not bring up their villainous past because they didn’t want to scare away Yuu/make them wary and distrustful of them. Same goes for the first years.

Anyways, Scar is impressed at how buff Jack is. He isn’t surprised though - he expected residents of his dorm to be powerful. Scar lays down some well deserved praise and Jack eats it up with a tail wag. Jack also talks about his dorm and what the dorm represents. Scar’s ego rises 100x and Scar becomes somewhat...egotistical. Well, maybe not like in a “I’m shoving my ego in your face” type of ego but in a “This pleases me and I will treat you kinder” ego.

Basically, Scar opens up a little more to Jack as the night progresses. Like a mentor/student bond.

The Evil Queen and Epel...well, the Evil Queen was quite picky with how Epel was acting. Yes, he had the proper posture but really, he was using the wrong forks to eat that particular kind of food. She expected better from someone who came from her dorm. So she ended up chastising him and scolding him for being “improper”. Like Vil.

She was shocked to say when Epel accidentally snapped back at her, before returning to his more “princely” persona. Ah, so the child had more than meets the eye. She tried a different approach, as in trying to ease Epel into talking to her. Certainly, Epel was much more headstrong and willful than that naive Snow White.

So, the Evil Queen and Epel have a rocky start, but by the end of the show.

Hades and Ortho...well, that’s a combo you never see everyday. But I think Hades would basically adopt Ortho. As in suddenly he gets father vibes from the kid. He’s also particularly interested in his own dorm, and asks Ortho about it. Ortho’s pretty chatty with Hades, and is happy to tell Hades about his dorm! He also asks a few questions himself; which Hades happily obliged to.

...and then it turns into Ortho talking about Idia and how wonderful he is. And Hades is like, “damn, this kid has a wonderful big brother. How come my younger siblings act like shit to me-“

So Hades silently swore to the River of Styx to keep this child safe, and Ortho had a fun time interacting with Hades!

Sebek and Maleficent...well, it could have been worse.

Poor Sebek was tense and tight lipped for most of the night. He really wanted to make a good impression on Malleus’ grandmother. (I don’t think Sebek has met Maleficent yet so-)

Maleficent was patient, however. She knew Fae kind were raised to think of Maleficent as a high authority figure that should be treated with upmost respect. Unlike the other kingdoms; the Valley of Thorns praised Maleficent like a goddess. She didn’t blame Sebek for acting like he was.

So she started with baby steps. Talking about how wonderful it was to meet her grandson’s bodyguard, how Malleus must have grown to be a strong magician, how she wished she had stayed to know more about her grandson.

Actually, the breaking point between the tense atmosphere between the two was Malleus. Sebek opens up a little more as he continues to talk to Maleficent.

At the end of the night, they’ve only talked about Malleus, but Maleficent was content with that. After all, keeping up with what her grandson was doing was more than enough.

By the end of the night, the First Years enjoyed the special performance and their time with the Great Seven. Things went well especially when Yuu came to join during their break.

So when it was time to go, everyone had happily said their goodbyes as they were ready to return.

“Oh, before I forget...Yuu, I have almost completed the portals for the others so do expect one of us to pop in soon.” “Oh, ok!” “...THEY MIGHT VISIT US?!”

Everyone is low key excited to meet again though.

So, the first years go through the mirror and stay at Ramshackle, chatting away at their time at the House of Mouse.

_=_

Yeah, this was a looonngg write, I’m actually going to do the rest of the TW cast in another post. I hope you enjoyed this one! :)

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bonkie-barnes · 3 years ago

Text

Surgery Shenanigans

wanda maximoff x gn!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: broken bone, surgery

- - -

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get in, get out. Unfortunately, expectations are rarely reality.

You were almost to the exit when your path became blocked by an Hydra agent twice your size. Usually, you would be able to take him down, but the exhaustion of the day was catching up to you.

You are locked in hand to hand combat with the agent for a few minutes, neither of you making progress, when you hear a sickening crunch. It takes a second before your brain catches up with what happens. That’s when the pain hits you.

You’ve broken your arm, and it’s bad.

Before the agent can inflict any more harm against you, he is thrown into the opposite wall by a red force. You turn your head to make out Wanda through your tears. She rushes over to you, letting out a soft gasp at the sight of your arm.

“Wanda, it hurts,” you cry out.

“I know my love. It’ll be okay,” she replies softly.

Slowly, the two of you make your way out of the base towards the awaiting Quinjet. The second after Wanda sits you down on a seat, she instructs Steve to call ahead to the compound to let them know of your situation.

She sits down next to you before taking you in her arms, careful not to jostle your arm. You slowly fall asleep to the whispers of comfort from Wanda and the pleasant thoughts she is projecting your way.

- - -

You wake again when the Quinjet has landed. There is a nurse and a wheelchair waiting for you at the bottom of the ramp.

“Are you okay to stand, darling?” Wanda asks you softly.

You nod and grit your teeth. The pain has come in full force now.

Slowly, you make your way off the jet and practically drop yourself into the wheelchair. The journey from the landing pad to the medical wing of the compound barely registers in your head, the pain from your arm too strong. You’re only snapped out of the pain-induced haze with the words “You’ll need surgery” coming from the doctor.

“Wait what,” you exclaim, your anxiety picking up immediately.

“We have to do surgery to place the bones back correctly, Agent,” the doctor supplies calmly.

“I’ll be here as soon as you wake up, love,” Wanda tells you softly.

You look into her eyes for a long minute trying to calm your racing heart. You nod once and with that you’re being wheeled into a surgery room.

- - -

The lights have been dimmed in your post-op room. You are covered from shoulder to toe in warm blankets. There is a scratchy cast on your left arm. You grunt softly, letting the inhabitants of the room know you are awake.

“Hi, my love. How are you feeling?” Wanda asks you softly.

You grunt again before slowly opening your eyes ever so slightly. You’re exhausted and your eyes fall closed almost immediately.

“Would you like some water?” your nurse asks.

You nod slowly. A cup with a bendy straw is brought to your lips and you clumsily take a sip, the water running down your chin slightly. Wanda chuckles and moves to wipe the water away with a napkin.

Slowly, you open your eyes again. At that moment, your doctor passed by your room.

A gasp leaves your lips as you yell, “Hey! I know you!”

The doctor laughs as she looks over your chart on a clipboard. “How are you feeling Y/N?”

“‘M fine,” you slur.

“That’s good to hear. I have to go check on something, but I’ll be back in a minute,” she replies.

You simply nod and demand more water.

The anesthesia has you feeling chatty. Suddenly, you ask the nurse her name.

“It’s Jackie, sweetheart.”

“Nice to meet you, Jackie. Do you like your job?” You ask.

She lets out a laugh. “I love my job.”

“How long have you worked at it?”

“About 15 years now.”

“Woah…,” you mutter.

Wanda moves to give you some more water.

“Hey, you’re really pretty Wanda.”

“Thank you my love,” she giggles.

“What’s your name?” you suddenly ask your nurse again.

“It’s Jackie, sweetheart,” She says after a laugh.

“Oh cool. Do you like your job?”

Everyone in the room chuckles before Jackie replies with the same response as earlier.

At that moment, your doctor had walked back into the room.

“Hey, I know you!” you exclaim excitedly.

“Yes you do! How are we feeling now?” She replies.

“It hurts,” you mutter with a frown.

“Alright, we’ll give you some medicine to make it feel better,” Jackie tells you.

You simply nod before asking Jackie her name for the third time. At her response you get a contemplative look on your tired face.

“Hey Jackie? What’s your favorite Disney movie?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’d have to say Beauty and the Beast. It was the last one I watched with my grandchildren.”

Without giving her a chance to ask you about your favorite, you blurt out, “Mine is Tangled. I like the music. How many grandchildren do you have?”

Jackie smiles. “I have three children and six grandchildren.”

“That’s so cool,” you mutter, opening your eyes. You hadn’t realized they had been closed for most of the exchange.

Slowly, your surroundings were becoming more clear to you. The anesthesia was wearing off slowly but surely. Wanda continued to give you water periodically. It dribbles down your chin every time.

You’re contentedly sipping your water when Jackie speaks up next.

“Would you like some stickers? I always have some with me for my grandchildren.”

“Oh my god, yes please,” you practically yell. Wanda laughs and shushes you.

Jackie comes back a few minutes later. “Guess what I found?”

She holds up some stickers for you to see.

“Oh my god, Tangled stickers!” you exclaim. “I’m so happy right now."

The doctor then comes in to tell Wanda that she can take you back to your room now.

“Hey baby. You want to go sleep in your own bed now?” she asks you quietly.

You simply nod. Now that the anesthesia has mostly worn off, you’re feeling very tired.

Wanda helps you sit up as Jackie wheels a wheelchair over to the side of your bed. You slowly stand up and wobble over to the chair. Wanda maintains a strong hold on your uninjured arm while rubbing your back as you waver on your feet.

Once you get situated in the chair, you fully register the heaviness of your eyelids. The trip to yours and Wanda’s room ends quickly in your tired state.

Wanda helps you into the bed before turning away to get you a glass of water. When she returns, you make grabby hands for her.

“‘M cold,” you mumble.

Wanda laughs as she crawls into bed with you. “Alright love. I’m here.”

You hum in content as you wrap your body around hers, being mindful of your cast.

“Go to sleep, love. I’ll be here when you wake up,” Wanda tells you softly.

You fall asleep to the sound of her heartbeat in her chest and the feeling of her hand in your hair.

- - -

“I said what?!”

Wanda just laughs as she continues telling you what you said while under the influence of the anesthesia.

“Oh my god, that’s so embarrassing,” you groan, as you pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingers. “The first thing I remember is saying it hurt and the nurse giving me medicine.”

“That’s the first thing you remember?”

“Don’t tell me there’s more,” you grumble. You go to hide your face in your hands when Wanda grabs your uninjured hand in hers.

“Don’t hide, my love. It was cute!” She brings your hand up to her lips, kissing the knuckles softly. “You’re very cute when you’re loopy.”

“I never want to be drugged up again.”

Wanda simply laughs and proceeds to pepper your face in kisses.

If this is what you get for breaking your arm, maybe needing surgery wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

- - -

A/N: hello! i hope you enjoyed! i had surgery last week (not for a broken bone, however) and this is pretty much exactly what i did after i woke up. i thought it would make a funny story. i try to keep it gender neutral, but if i've messed up somewhere, please let me know! feedback is greatly appreciated!

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x gn!reader #wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #my fic

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duckbeater · 2 years ago

Text

Journal Entry / Those Who Stay

A previous version of this post included the title supplements “(The Butcher of Loneliness, pt. 2; [Courtship, pt. 5]),” which made the top aggressively ugly and also abstruse. None the less, one should consider this entry as the fifth in a much-dislocated series. —The Editors

—

A stranger messaged me the other day, congratulating me on my Anne Carson tour. It seems I’d avoided her for two decades and then this last month [November] I read most of her work and posted about it, indiscriminately, nearly every night, on my IG story. Obv the accolades piled in, unstoppable. Indeed, I read most of her books in the span of two weeks—whatever I could find at the booksellers or online or through resellers, eager for her matter-of-fact eloquence on Greek historians, Proust’s long “fairy tale,” and then the remarks on Woolf (and why? I’ve barely read thru Swann’s Way). I was walking nearly 12 miles a day like the city varmint they track on TikToks. These were long walks to wear me down and they filled my heels with a bolting pain that pulsed, even in bed, even after taking many ibuprofen. I became lean like varmint, too. Running was an absolute nightmare but I ran anyway and obv you know this.

What did I imagine Carson wrote versus what does she actually write? | thought she occupied herself with academic exercises—frosty, formal reports from the edge of translation, with some personal assaying inside. Crone’s notes; old lady vibes; sententious from her years collecting the high-finance prizes. (Thus I am both stupid and sexist.) I liked Autobiography of Red in grad school but couldn't follow the plot. [Falling out of the plot is a great fear of mine.] Her compendium of chapbooks, Float, has flashes of Frank O’Hara’s chatty list poems (“Eras of Yves Klein” and “How to Like ‘If I Told Him: A Completed Portrait of Picasso’ By Gertrude Stein”), and a very funny aside on style in “Merry Christmas from Hegel”: “You will forgive me if you are someone who knows a lot about Hegel or understands it, I do not and will paraphrase badly, but I understood him to be saying he was fed up with popular criticism of his terrible prose.” Ancient playwrights made themselves known as ghostships do by creaking thru fog. These encounters were diverting but not fastening, perhaps because they were, let’s be frank, scraps, one-offs, anecdotes, whose audience could be best described as friends and family. What was her deal with the Brontës? The difficulty with pronouns? I wasn’t family yet. I hadn’t read enough. I was a younger man. My circumstances changed. I was presumed to fall out of love, pathetically so. I fell back in love with someone who didn��t love me back—a feeling whose use-value accounts for a world literature rich in sympathetic losers. It was an excellent time to read one Anne Carson.

She writes a lot about not getting what you want. I discovered, with Glass, Irony & God, that she’s never found peace with the lover who abandoned her (“It is stunning... when one’s lover comes in and says I do not love you anymore”) and that her oeuvre may well be a perduring dialog with that loss. In Plainwater, published the same year, she opens her “Anthropology of Water” by prefacing, “Water is something you cannot hold. Like men. I have tried. Father, brother, lover, true friends, hungry ghosts and God, one by one all took themselves out of my hands”; and in the ominous poem “New Rule” from Men in the Off Hours, “The night of hooks?// The man blade left open on the stair?/ Not enough spin on it, said my true love/ when he left in our fifth year.” Then in Decreation, re the Bloomsbury set, with its members at last in matrimonial equipoise, Carson shits on the premise of their futurity:

I wonder if they paused to look at each other, these mated and unmated people, on the exposed plane of an ordinary moment of that curious, heavy, historic, wrong day. Sudden feeling of oldness. Black upland wind. Bring a coat, they had been told, and a piece of smoked glass. It will get cold. It will hurt your eyes. Totality is lightless, and should be colourless, yet may intensify certain questions that hang at the back of the mind. What is a spouse after all? Will this one stay, can this one keep me alive?

I mean, it wasn't exactly a great time to be alive. Two world wars, bad cures for cancer, and the ungenial environment for genius women. Still, you get the sense her worry’s sincere; she wants these aristocratic oddballs to find some warmth, some flame of reason. Carson’s apocalyptic scene-setting puts me in mind of Bo Bartlett's Dreamland, a painting full of strange celebrants on their way from a wedding. They are curious, serious, strolling up a hill. A few appear to look back at their viewers. There’s a bride, a pilot, a priest, a baby with a crown; a lady rich in her furs; and leading them all, a fool.

—

In The Paris Review, Carson describes a childhood moving past fixed friendships as her father moved from bank to bank in Canadian backwaters. Uprooted every few years, she regarded her schoolmates as bad bets; better to shy away from relations whose half-life guaranteed painful, present decay. (These are facts. My mom suffered same as a preacher’s daughter, leaving midwest ministries every three years or so for the next Methodist parsonage. I asked her what that was like, and she said, “I was always learning new rules. I never understood them. What music people liked. How I should dress. What was funny. I made good grades and was very pretty but was teased constantly because I was quiet and the minister was my dad and I tried always to be nice. I felt very alone.” Another comp: Anne Carson’s father and my mother’s father both died of premature, catastrophic, late-stage Alzheimer’s.)

When you’re young, you learn how to keep people close: you learn to trust that they last and even if they don’t last, you at least learn that faculty of trust (that people stay), which is a kind of peace. Trust-breakers remain outliers. They do not pertain to a worldview of paralyzing detachment. But “I’ll be leaving,” thought Carson; “this won’t last.” Her work continually makes evident that it has never resolved, never made sense of leaving, and that she has never learned enough from it to move on. Further, her work emphasizes that she has chosen not to move on. That, sometimes, choosing obsessive disappointment is as liberating and galvanizing as choosing what we superficially call “freedom.” “I’ve avoided enlightenment resolutely,” she says. “As it is, I’m just sad.”

In her brother’s epitaph, Carson includes Michael’s note admonishing her, “Don’t go back to the farm don’t go alone,” and, “Put the past away you have to.” The siblings were not only worlds but timescales apart. He wrote from Copenhagen where he was hard-scrabbling, existing on cigarettes and shopkeeping—but wifed-up—still, insect-pinned to a crime he committed in 1978 and never going home. Meanwhile, Anne led university students in Michigan through cases of Attic Greek (nominative, accusative, genitive, dative, and vocative) and composed odd poems about ruined expectations. On the one hand, several millennia of precedent: Simonides of Keos, Herodotos, Sokrates [her characteristic spelling favors a k where other scholars rely on the less economic ch], Archilochos, Augustine, Basho, Sartre. On the other, she inhabited estranging tactics: Is this a poem or prose translation? Is this a poem or academic gloss? Is this a poem or… opera? And then too the voices of dead starlets, Free French mystics, Romanian-born/German-language suicides, and (famously, for Anne Carson) Sappho. Her brother wrote “don’t go back” and “put the past away” but seemed sorely oblivious to her present case. Up stakes? From where? How can you return to where you’ve never left? How do you come back from where you’ve never gone, etc. (I’m asking for myself.)

Alice, a character in Complicite’s Mnemonic, tells her ex-lover Virgil, “You have to wait now and this time you follow,” crazing him. “Can you hear the inherent contradiction in that?” he reports to a friend, continuing:

You have to wait and follow. It’s impossible. And I suddenly realized what’s happening to her . . . What’s going on is that she’s feeding back on herself. It’s feedback, turbulence. Her internal state is like weather. Our internal lives are a mystery. We don’t even know what causes us to sleep. My doctor can tell me I’ve got insomnia but he doesn’t know how or why.

I write that Anne Carson has never made sense of leaving, never moved on, and yet her formative years were spent in transit, dislocated, grasping and still removed. In her “Praise of Sleep,” she ends remarks on Elizabeth Bishop, Virginia Woolf, The Odyssey, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, and Plato’s Krito with an ode whose last line reads: “Exit wound, as they say.” I consider this a hypothetical—a pretense—of feeling, because she hasn’t exited. Anne Carson is standing stock-still on blue icy hinterlands in dark Ontario. Others left, she stayed, and the wound (this is odd to say—actually, it’s certainly painful to write)—the wound is that we stay. If we exit, maybe we can find a goddam bandage or two. If we exit, maybe we can avoid further harm? In a play, as in life, exits create new scenes. You actually have to leave to move elsewhere, to move on. Acknowledging this is obv v silly but that doesn’t make it wrong. I corrected a friend on the same matter a few days ago: “This is not a metaphor.”

“An epitaph is a way of thinking about death and gives consolation,” says Carson, in The Economy of the Unlost. “Salvation occurs, through the act of attention that forms stone into memory, leaving residue of greater life. I am speaking subjectively. There is no evidence of salvation except a gold trace in the mind.”

Here my patience quavers.

Memory isn’t stone; it’s a blood sponge with connective neural byways and low electric activity. And gold is not found in persons whatsoever—not the element [unless thru surgery]—and only meekly by virtue of right action, as a simile, and a tired one.

—

[The sorrow of] unrequited love compels its sufferers to do strange things. Sometimes monstrous things. Of course requited love feeds upon its own vagaries—obsessive texting; fucking in closets at parties; betraying your right conscience to do wrong things (e.g, the one time I went on a big gay camping trip while my grandmother died, not too far away, to shore up my relations with a man. My brothers, who’d flown in to comfort my mother, found my absence unspeakably bizarre). Success in love absorbs these bursts of mania and incorporates them rather too smoothly into the usual narratives of banal romantic triumph. A rehearsal dinner’s tear-stained anecdotes; the party fodder; nostalgia. And despite the severity of love’s work in these broken measures, the idiocy of courtship (and situationship and relationship) have become a civic pastime—a tax some lucky ones pay to perdure in the dreamscape of public life as married, home-owning child-bearers.

You have to be absolutely nuts. Just out of your mind. You have to be so accommodating, nearly incorporeal, to integrate another’s habits and tastes. Their family—and that family’s customs? You have to know how much regular sex to expect, and money, and if perhaps you care to swing when you travel? Obviously I could not. But then, the happily-in-love don’t write essays on love. They bask cage-jawed behind love’s silencing muzzle. The happily-in-love are editors or novelists or reporters. There are no stings for them, no impalements, and they are galvanized to look elsewhere for the stories of their day. They’re great gossips, for instance, in the miseries of the unloved, because the unloved bring them news.

[fragment ends]

#anne carson

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palbabor-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Impetuous

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, SMUT/18+only, cunnilingus, switching, bratting, face-riding, Satoru being Satoru, so he’s chatty & in general the worst

Words: 12,815

“Knock it off,” you huff, doing your best to ignore how your breasts press against the flat planes of his chest. Then his fingers are under your chin, gently tipping your head up and leaning so close that his lips are inches from your own.

“But what if I don’t want to?” he teases, his voice falling into a lower, hushed pitch before he relaxes his hold, letting you slip from his hands.

Notes: this thing has been languishing in my drafts since like, January. because it was my first step away from BNHA i’ve sorta over analyzed it & edited it, likely to death. but anyway, without further ado, here is my first venture into the JJK fandom! thank you for edits & suggestions: @albinoburrito, @kugutsuu, @kogo & everyone else that i’ve forced to look at this thing. love you all sm & ty for putting up with me!

& it’s gojo because of course it fucking is.

Impetuous im·pet·u·ous /imˈpeCH(o͞o)əs/ adjective done quickly

“I hate to be a harbinger of bad news, and I can understand your frustration, but that’s what they asked me to do. Doesn’t matter what continent we’re on, elders are elders. Honestly, I’m a little shocked that this teaching pathway is even an option for him.” Although you speak softly, your voice seems to carry more in these close meeting rooms, clattering off the tatami mats and gleaming leather couches.

Yaga massages the bridge of his nose and adjusts his dark sunglasses before lifting his eyes to yours. “I understand, but I still feel that he would be an asset to our school. As long as his motivations remain pure, that’s all I can ask for, at present.”

“Pure or not,” you continue, lacing your fingers as you cross one leg over the other. “It’s vital to see how he handles himself on these missions. What if he has a student with him? I’ve never seen his fighting style, but I’ve heard he can be reckless. How can he foster confidence and proper growth if he’s not measured on the basics? There’s the additional worry of taking him off of the higher ranked missions. Or, if you elect to keep sending him on them, can he handle both? Can he teach and still be a successful sorcerer and asset?”

“He’ll be expected to do both. He knows this,” Yaga sighs, reaching for his lukewarm cup of tea. “While he’s not known for his conventionality, I don’t think that will interfere with his teaching. As I said, some recent events at the school have helped to illuminate the importance of managing the coming generation. Satoru is confident, and I believe that will translate well to any future students. He’s already taken on some responsibility with young Fushiguro and the boy is doing well under his instruction.”

“Fushiguro?” you ponder. Your school administration and the head elders had given you a list of names, people who represented the top families among Japan’s sorcerers, but you don’t remember seeing a name like Fushiguro among the others.

“He’s related to the Zen’in family,” Yaga explains, spreading his vast hands open as he replaces his tea cup against the low table that rests between the two of you. “So, if I’m understanding correctly, your superiors in America have sent you to Japan to collect a series of reports. One is on the influence of curses and how our alumni comport themselves in the field. The other is the analysis of our teaching styles and to, how did you put it, ‘further diversify your own teaching abilities as a jujutsu educator.’ And, as if that wasn’t possibly enough, to observe our newest teaching candidate, Satoru Gojo.”

“In a nutshell,” you confirm, a smile quirking the edge of your lips. “We’ve got some missions lined up, right?”

“Yes. You will enter the field with Satoru and one other returning alumna, Shoko Ieiri. She’s finished her medical degree and will join our research facilities in the coming weeks.”

“Oh! She’s the one who can use the reverse healing technique! I’ve heard of her.”

“Yes. She was in Satoru’s class. I realize your report is the main aim that you have here, but I would ask that you keep an open mind. While your report is of value to our school, it will not affect my decision on the matter.”

You lean against the stiff cushions of the couch and cock your head at Yaga’s impassive expression. “Of course,” you assure him, noting that nothing in his outward appearance shifts as you give him the response he was waiting for. “Should be an interesting week, at the very least.”

“Oh,” Yaga replies, finally cracking a less than reassuring grin. “Satoru will make sure of that.”

“Hey! (L/N)-san! The next report is up and they’re sending a manager for us, hurry up! Stop scribbling things in that little notebook. What are you writing anyway? Is it some kinda biography? Oooh! Is it on me? Is that why you keep looking at me? It is, isn’t it? Ahh, now I’m gonna feel self-conscious.”

You snap your notepad closed and slip it into your hip pouch, stepping toward the two fellow members of your team. “It’s just routine notes and you don’t need to call me (L/N)-san. I realize it’s likely force of habit, but please, just call me (Y/N).”

“Ahhh! We’re already on a first name basis! I’m blushing. I’ve never had a girl be this forward with me!” Satoru sighs, clapping his hands against his cheeks and leaning over you. “You’re so bold!”

“Ugh,” you scoff, rolling your eyes at him. “Liar, and stop that. I’m still the senior sorcerer in this party. I–”

“But you’re just a grade 1,” he interrupts, bracing his hands on his hips and exaggerating his stance, moving his face close to yours. As he looms ever nearer, you raise your chin and hold your ground. This invasion of personal space is a tactic he loves to use.

At first, you’d figured he was just another one of those guys who weren’t aware how intimidating their sheer height and presence came off to others. However, as the days wore on, you noticed his intentional maneuvering. He would press at Shoko too, but she was better at ignoring him, so he soon turned his full attention to you.

“Yeah, I might only be a grade 1, but they have given me the command on all of our missions. It’s my job to file the reports, a task that you, as the technical ‘junior party’, aren’t trusted to do.”

“You’re so right! That’s a tremendous responsibility. How do you stand under all that pressure (Y/N)! The role of the pencil pusher is such a big job. I should act right! Or I’ll never be a real jujutsu sorcerer! God, look at this Shoko, we need to get our shit together! At this rate, we’ll never be able to file our own reports!”

“Now, now,” you tut, raising a finger in front of your face, forcing him to take a subconscious step backwards. “Watch what you say, after all, you’re wanting to become a teacher. So some part of the masochism of endless paperwork must appeal to you.”

Satoru’s smooth lips raise into a broad smirk and pulls away, arching his arms behind his pale head. “Hmm, I’ll give you that one (Y/N). Mainly because of your choice of wording. Masochism. What a word for it. And why’d you have to say it so straight faced? Oh, that reminds me, what time is our next mission at?”

“Uh, why did masochism remind you of that?” you pause, lifting your wrist so you can check the time on your watch. “I think it’s in two hours, give or take traffic.”

“Hmm, and it’s in the Chiba district?”

“Yeah, that’s in Tokyo, right?”

“It is,” Shoko chimes in, twirling a lock of her long brown hair between two of her fingers. Her low voice reminds you, and you turn to face her. “Speaking of names, I never asked, would you prefer Shoko or Ieiri?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she replies, lifting her tawny eyes to yours, catching some of the bright sunlight as it fades into the deep circles under her eyelids. The contrast makes her skin look even more pallid. “First name, last name, whatever is easier.”

“Shoko okay with you then?”

“Sure,” she nods, the ghost of a smile lifting her lips.

“Oi!” Satoru interrupts, slinging an arm over Shoko’s shoulder and fixing you with a pointed look. Or you assume he is, it’s hard to tell where he’s looking because of those white strips of cloth that obscure his eyes. “You know what’s in Chiba, don’t you?”

You blink at him, unsure if this is another one of his aimless questions or something genuine. “No. Should I?”

“You’re a tourist and you really don’t know what’s in–”

“We’ve already been over this Satoru; I am not a tourist,” you protest. “I’m here on official business from my administration to–”

“Yeah, yeah. Look, special, ‘top secret’ assignment or not, you’re still basically a tourist because it’s your first time to Japan. You’re honestly telling me you didn’t look up anything before you arrived?”

“Um,” you waver, eyes narrowing at the cheerful leer that’s drifting over Satoru’s angular features. “I looked up some basic things. I know about the Shinjuku and Roppongi districts. Oh, and Harajuku, that’s a big one too.”

“Mmhm, very good, my little tourist, but do you know what’s in the Chiba district?”

“Don’t call me that and stop screwing around Satoru. If this has nothing to do with the mission, then I’m not interested. I could care less what’s in the district–”

“Might just be rumors, but I’ve been hearing about an increase in cursed activity. Especially around that theme park. I’m sure you’ve heard of it,” he looks upward, pearlescent hair tumbling behind his wrappings. “I guess it’s not surprising that it’s a hot spot, what with all the people who are always checking it out. It’s pretty famous.”

Tch. He’s not gonna tell you.

You suck your teeth and twist your hand back to your hip pouch, digging for your phone. As you peer over the search results you can hear him rambling on about the notoriety of the unnamed place but as soon as you hit the second result, your head whips back up.

There’s no way.

Of course you’d heard of it, you’d even thought about it when the higher ups asked you to take on the assignment to Japan, but never, not in a million years, would you have figured that you’d have a chance to go. Not on this trip.

“Are you serious?” you breathe, blinking up at his smug face. Satoru doesn’t answer, just pops one hand under his chin and gives you a shit-eating grin. You look back at your phone and bite your lip, doing your best to contain your budding excitement, double checking the map for the district.

If he’s not pulling some kind of elaborate joke, it looks like Tokyo Disneyland is the location of your next mission.

“What… what the fuck is this, some kinda elaborate joke??”

The gates to the amusement park are warped, and the paint is peeling; one side looks like it’s about to melt off of the frame, all twisted metal and faded rust. Just past the gates you can see what looks like an old merry-go-round, complete with lions, tigers, bears and several sets of horses. At the tip-top of the ride rest a star, and atop that star is a wraith like curse. It spindles around the flecks of gold and cool bronze, baring its teeth at the three of you and sputtering a long line of broken speech as it twists and turns.

“Huh, still looks about the same. This place was enormous when I was a kid. Now it’s a trendy spot for ghost hunters and thrill seekers! I think five or six people died here last year.” Satoru grins, tucking his hands into his pockets as he strides forward. In seconds, he’s beside the curse on the merry-go-round, silencing chittering of its inane dialogue, letting an eerie quiet seep over the rest of the abandoned grounds.

“So stupid. I cannot believe I let him make me think we were going to Disneyland. You know what he’s like, Shoko! Why didn’t you tell me? He–”

“I honestly don’t listen to him. No idea he was making you think this was Tokyo Disney,” Shoko interrupts, already following the path Satoru took, tucking her brown hair behind her neck with a loose hair tie. “But since we’re here, could you lower the curtain and take care of those level 2 curses on the ticket booth?”

You let out a long sigh and toss her a quick affirmative, reciting the familiar incantation, watching as the darkening shield slopes its way down from the skies, sheltering the three of you within its haze.

The first set of curses are easy enough and you swiftly take care of them, unleashing your cursed technique and splicing them into faded dust. How ridiculous, you think, opening the door to the booth and dodging an ill timed lunge from a sneakier curse who was hiding inside. Satoru honestly had you thinking that you’d be going to the Disneyland theme park. On the way over, he’d even told you about the layout of the park and what potential curses might be lurking about.

What a jerk.

Still, you muse, turning toward another shrieking hulk of a curse that’s lumbering toward you, it’s impressive he’d led you on so easily. You make a mental note to get back at him later, for now you need to clear this area and focus on the task at hand.

“I cannot believe that you led me on like that!” you pout, knocking back a small swig of beer.

“Pfft,” Satoru chuckles, wagging one long finger at you. “Didn’t ever say it was gonna be Disneyland, did I? You came to that conclusion all on your own.”

“Oh please! Making me look up what ‘famous tourist spots are in Chiba’ and then nodding each time I said I was excited to see some of the rides on the way over.”

“You could have really been into haunted carnivals. How was I supposed to know?”

“Ass,” you snap playfully, sticking your tongue out at his pleased smile.

After the mission and spotting your peeved expression, Satoru had insisted that you let him take the two of you out for a drink. According to Shoko, the bar in this neighborhood was highly rated and had some of the best specials in the entire district.

The place was packed; but somehow Shoko had secured three seats up at the bar top, ushering you to sit between her and Satoru, informing you there must always be a three foot buffer between her and ‘that loser’. The bartender seemed to know her and, before you could pull yourself into the worn leather seat, three foaming lagers were passed across the rough surface of the bar top, one for each of you.

“Thanks,” you’d murmured, cupping your hands around the glass. On your right, Satoru pushed his lager toward you, raising two fingers at the distracted barkeep as he chatted with Shoko. “What’s wrong? Don’t like beer?” you’d asked, bemused by his disgruntled expression.

“Nah,” he’d confirmed, wagging his digits a little faster, chin lifting as he let out a huffed exhale. “Messes with my eyes. I want something to eat, though. Hey! Shoko! Stop flirting with him and ask if they have anything sweet! Shokooo! Don’t ignore me!”

Shoko made a show of rolling her eyes but, a few minutes later, a plate of piping hot fried sweet buns appeared and he’d swiftly grabbed up one, popping it in his mouth and smacking it hungrily. You’d turned to ask Shoko what they were, but by the time you’d twisted back to Satoru over half of the cakes were gone.

“Damn, you inhaled them,” you’d exhaled, a little shocked he could scarf them down that quickly.

“Well, they’re not bad and hit the spot, for now,” he’d grinned. “Want one?”

“I’m good. You might bite my finger if I get too close… mistake it for one of the buns…”

“Awe, what’s wrong? Think you wouldn’t taste good?”

“Yikes,” you laugh and Satoru hums, clearly pleased with your genuine mirth.

Shoko, who was soon engrossed in conversation with a few of the other patrons to the left of her, kept ordering rounds for the both of you. To keep up, you diligently sipped at each fresh beer, careful to keep abreast of the thrum of the alcohol with several responsible swigs of water. Satoru seemed content with his small order of sweets and peppered you with questions about life in America. He asked about what grade year you taught, the ins and outs of curses within the states and how you liked Japan. He kept things lively and made a point to throw in a few lighthearted jokes at you, beaming each time you laughed at his barbs.

“So, what you’re saying is there’s no one in America quite like me?” he teases, stretching his long arms dramatically before leaning closer to you.

“Stop that! You’re gonna hit someone,” you grin, trying to shove at his side, watching as your hand freezes in midair, held off by his limitless technique. “Seriously? You’ve still got that on?”

“Mmhm,” Satoru intones. “24/7, 365!”

“You would,” you try to jostle him again, bemused by the fraying and shimmering sliver of infinity that rests between the two of you.

“It’s a tremendous strain on my brain, you know,” he bemoans, dropping his head and fixing a long frown over his lips.

“You deserve it.”

“Ack!” Satoru cries out, clutching at his heart. “Wow! No sympathy! You really gonna treat me like this? My senpai?”

“May I remind you - Tokyo Disneyland,” you intone, glaring at his haggard expression.

“WOW. You’re never gonna let that go, huh?” Satoru cracks a face, arching his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, letting a high pitched, cracked voice leech from his lips. “Ahhh, that damned man! He deprived me of my dreams! The chance to see Tokyo Disneyland, one last time!”

“What is that? Me? But… old?”

“Pretty good, right?”

“No.”

“Well, I think it was uncanny!” he crows, nodding.

“What in your warped mind makes you think I’ll sound anything like that when I’m old?” you ask, pushing your empty beer pint forward as you purse your lips.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so excited over the idea of a theme park,” he ponders, tapping a bent index finger against his smooth chin. “Don’t you guys have them in the states? The Disney parks, I mean.”

“We do, we have two. But, since you made me think we were coming to Tokyo Disneyland, I looked up some rides,” you snatch your phone from the counter, scrolling through a few photos before you land on the right one. “Ah! Here it is! Look at this! See?” you chirp, pushing the gleaming screen of your phone toward him.

“Uh. What am I looking at?”

“It’s the Tower of Terror!”

“Which is… ummm… a ride?”

“Yeah? And look at it! It’s upside down! I don’t think the one in America does that,” your finger reaches toward your phone and you blow up the closest image, tapping at the bright colors. Satoru laughs and waves a hand up, attracting the bartender once more and gesturing for another beer for you. “Imma get you another drink, you’re fun like this, plus, you’re just too cute with that little smile.”

You miss his last comment, wholly focused on finding another set of images. “Oh my God! Look! During Halloween they have a night parade in front of it! And… ahhh! Satoru! There’s a green ghost at the top! It’s almost like that curse we saw tonight at the carnival!”

His long fingers snatch up your bright device, and he yanks it away from your wide eyes. “Ok, that’s enough of that. I’m worried you might end up cursing me for not taking you.”

You give him a sour look and vainly try to grab your phone back, fingers unable to pass through his unseen barrier. “What? No fair! I still don’t understand how you can always have this up!”

“Practice,” he taunts, shaking his head at your determination and wandering touch, chuckling each time you bounce off of his cursed technique. “On another note,” he begins as your new lager is placed in front of you. “What’s in that report that you’re working on?”

You decide to ignore the fact that he’s still holding your phone and cautiously sip past the foam of your fresh beer, peering up at him, studying the lines of his white cloth. It doesn’t tell you much, so you look at his lips instead. They’re pale, but they’re held in a serious line, so you carefully construct your response. “What makes you think I have a report?”

“Why else would you be here?” Satoru counters, rapping his nails against the warped wood of the bar top. “I know you met with Yaga and you’re too cautious and overpowered to be sent on missions with Shoko and me. So you must be here for something else.”

“Officially,” you concede, “I’m here to observe the teaching techniques and skills of the alumni of your school. I’m sure this will come as no shock, but curses are getting more powerful, both here and overseas, and we’re doing our best to keep ahead of those changes. I’m supposed to pick up what tricks I can and bring them back home, to see how we can implement it.”

“Reasonable,” he allows, spreading his fingers before coiling them under his palms again. “But that’s not everything, is it?”

No, you think it’s not.

You lower your beer and look over at him. He’s braced himself against the bar and his head is dipped so his chin is almost against his breastbone. He doesn’t exactly look dejected, but you can see that he’s thinking deeply and something about that openness makes your heart squeeze. He looks a bit like a kicked puppy.

Ugh, he’s not a bad guy. He’s funny, and he knows what he’s doing, plus he has the confidence to get where he needs to go. In all honesty, he wouldn’t make a terrible teacher. Maybe not the best, but he certainly wouldn’t be the worst.

“I–there… there’s some concern you’d be too divided - that it’s not practical to have you teach and go on missions. I also don’t think your own elders trust you much.”

“Ah-ha!” Satoru beams, springing upward and pointing two finger guns at you. “You are here to look in on me! Knew it!”

You can’t help but laugh at him. “Fine, fine, you got me. Let’s get this over with, huh? So we can get back to talking about things other than work, I liked that. What’s the most direct thing I can ask? Hmm, oh! I’ll start with something easy–Why do you want to teach?”

“That’s easy?” he whines, head falling again.

“It’s straightforward,” you bargain, propping your chin on your fist, looking him over.

“Sure, let’s pretend that’s not a deceptively loaded question! Alright, well, it’s the best way to change things.”

“Change things?”

“Yup. Like you mentioned, lately curses have become more powerful and lately it feels like I’m the only one who’s being sent on these high-level missions. Frankly, it’s stupid to rely on just me that much, you know? That’s not practical, or even realistic. So, to my mind, it’s vital I throw my support behind some of these up-and-coming kids. You know, foster the next generation and all that. I want reliable allies in the field and to have that, I’ve gotta make sure they’re taught right. Give them everything I know, make them better than me, stronger than me.”

You’re quiet for a long breath, eyes wide, fingers frozen around your glass, which was midway to your lips. “Damn,” you smile, letting the word hang. “You know, that was actually a pretty good answer.”

Satoru clicks his tongue and curls his lips in a grimace. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I mean,” you chuckle and look up at him, eyes bright. “Well, your attitude doesn’t always inspire confidence.”

“Ahhhhhh,” he groans, thumping his covered forehead against the bar. “Such a low blow! Bartender! Another round for me!”

“Please,” you sigh, finally taking a sip of your beer. “Do not call your sweet buns ‘another round.’” He grins at you and leans across the bar top, shifting his weight toward your bent arm. The pressure of his shoulder is warm and you nudge at him a little, playfully. He tuts at you but continues to stare ahead, a faint smile teasing the edge of his lips.

As the bartender slides the requested plate of sweets down, you suddenly realize that you’re touching him. Your eyes widen and you slowly turn your head toward his. He’s not looking at you, content with chewing on his sweet bread, but he’s still braced against you. It’s like all of your senses are finely tuned to that one spot of faint friction between the two of you. You can feel the lines of his muscled arm as he shifts and you involuntarily gulp, doing your best to ignore the abrupt thudding of your heart.

He said he always kept it up, didn’t he? Something about 24/7 and all the days of the year, so why is he…

“Hey,” Shoko’s voice startles you and you instinctively slide closer to Satoru, arm dragging against his shoulder as you try to right yourself again. “I’m gonna go win this drinking contest these guys have started. You two sticking around for a bit?”

“Uh,” you begin, but Satoru cuts you off, draping an arm over the back of your chair. “Yeah, we’ll be here. What are the stakes?”

“Not sure. But the pot is likely against me, if you’re in a betting mood.”

“Sure, I’ll put 20,000 yen on you.”

“Is…” you start, but Shoko is already walking off, one arm pumped into the air as she shoulders her way to the long table that’s filled with five or six others, all of them holding a full pint glass of beer between their hands. You turn back to Satoru and let out a long breath. “Is that safe?”

“Huh?” he asks, face close to yours. You can smell his cologne from here and the heady scent of him and crisp patchouli fills your senses. “I mean Shoko, will she be ok?” you elaborate, eyes studying the space where his own would be, silently hoping that he’ll pull down the barrier that covers half of him from your curious gaze.

“Ah,” he nods sagely, leaning back a little to look out at where Shoko is sitting, quietly waiting for the start of the game with her full beer. “She’s got a ridiculously high tolerance. Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s part of her cursed technique. She’ll be fine.”

“True, she likely knows the limits of the human body better than anyone else. But… I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so… excited?” you muse, sitting against your chair and running into the flat palm of Satoru’s hand. For a moment, you debate shifting away, but he’s not really doing anything, just letting the tips of his fingers rest against the curve of your spine, tapping a disjointed rhythm as he watches the start of the contest, that all too familiar smile still tugging at the corners of his lips.

“She used to be a little more laid back, you know?” he replies, leaning a little harder into your side as he lowers his voice, keeping close to your ear so you can hear him. “She always looks so tired now and her whole outlook has changed, but I suppose four years of med school will do that to you. Although, I did hear that she cheated her way out.”

“No!” you gasp, eyebrows lifted in shock. Satoru laughs, and for once, you’re not thinking it might be at your expense. “Yeah! Just the word on the street. But I wouldn’t put it past her. Shoko’s always done her best to avoid things, namely confrontation or extra work, so it makes sense she’d jet outta med school as fast as she could too.”

“That’s crazy and frankly, terrifying.”

“Riiight?” he shivers, lips raising in an exaggerated wince. “But that’s our Shoko. I’ve got a feeling she’ll do well at the school and I’m grateful I’ll have time to work with her again. It’s been way too long…” Satoru trails off and you can feel his hand slip up your back, fingers ghosting over your shoulder blades.

“Stop that,” you scold, shaking him off with a quick jolt and twisting around to look at his roguish smirk. “What happened to always maintaining your barrier?”

“Awe” he groans, dunking his head against your shoulder with a thump. “Come on, I’ve gotta win you over somehow!”

“Are you serious?”

“Well, I mean, I want the job.”

“I’m gonna hit you,” you threaten, doing your best to keep your bubbling amusement contained.

“Try it,” he taunts, lifting his head and keeping his face close. His nose is inches from yours and you can barely make out his sharp grin, but you can feel the drag and pull of his breath as it passes over you, leaving a lingering sweetness against your skin. Instantly, your hand lifts to him, fully intent on shoving him back, but you can’t move any closer, trapped by the sudden emergence of his infinity.

“Ass,” you prickle, shaking your head at his antics. Another peal of laughter falls from his soft lips and you can’t help but smile back, caught up in his infectious joviality. “Tch. Don’t make me find more Tokyo Disney pictures.”

“You can’t,” he informs you, cocking his head at your confusion. “I still have your phone.”

“Hey! Give that back!” you gasp, snatching blindly at him. He shifts back into his seat and yanks your device out of his pocket, waggling it tauntingly in front of you. “Uh-uh! Gotta get past the barrier first!”

“That’s not fair!”

“Never said that I’d make this… oh! Shoko! How did it go? Win me something?”

You twist and spot Shoko’s dark head approaching the two of you. She pauses beside Satoru and flips a large stack of bills down on the bar top, a wide grin on her usually impassive face. “As expected, I won. Here’s your cut, Satoru. Don’t spend it all in one place or on another order of sweet buns, would you? Think you can do that for me?”

She and Satoru bicker back and forth playfully as you unfold several of the notes, aimlessly organizing them on the countertop as their brisk conversation winds back down.

“So,” Shoko murmurs, pulling a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket and knocking one free from the carton. “You two gonna head out soon? I don’t really see a need to call one of the managers, the school’s close by and so is (Y/N)’s hotel.”

“Yeah,” Satoru replies, finally passing your phone back as he collects the neatly stacked set of yen from you. “Figured, I’d see her back.”

“I can find it!” you protest, jamming your phone safely into your pouch once more.

“Sure,” he mocks, arching toward you as he braces an elbow against the bar. “You can barely speak Japanese and I know you can’t read much kanji, but sure thing, let’s let you loose in the city. See how far you make it before you’re calling one of us, hmm?”

“That’s not… I–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Satoru waves his hand back and forth and turns back to Shoko. “I’ll let her finish her drink and then we’ll head out. See you tomorrow?”

Shoko nods at his question and, for a moment, you think you spy a knowing look pass between the two of them, but before you can call out to her, Shoko is already making her way toward the door.

“What was that?” you ask, eyes narrowed as Satoru looks down at you, white hair gleaming under the low lights. “What?” he asks innocently, propping his chin onto his open palm. “That look that the two of you just gave each other.”

“No idea what you’re talking about. You sure that beer didn’t hit you a little too hard?”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Despite it being late August, a cool breeze greets the two of you when you step out of the bar. “It’s so nice out,” you comment, readjusting your boots as you hop onto the sidewalk.

“Mmhm,” he agrees, bracing his arms behind his head as you make your way down the street. “So did you decide what you’re gonna write in your report?”

You glance up at him and make sure he can see you rolling your eyes. “Back to trying to butter me up?”

“Never! Just asking. If you wanna say I’m crazy and can’t be trusted, that’s fine. I can think of a few others who’d agree with you.”

“Oh? Who?”

“Most people,” he laughs, stepping a little nearer and bumping against you, shocking you with the actual weight and warmth of his body again. As you continue on, you lift your hand to his arm and press the pad of your finger against his sleeve. This time, nothing bars your way so you run the digit slowly along his arm, smiling when he shivers and bats you away.

“Stop that! Someone’s gonna see and think you’re taking advantage of me!”

The laugh that explodes from your chest at that mental image makes you stop dead in your tracks, arms lacing around your shaking stomach. Satoru scoffs at your bent figure and leans down, shaking his head at your guffawing.

“The… the… fact that you… think that anyone… would think that… I–”

“You’re lucky your laugh is so cute,” he muses, bracing his arms over your bent back, playfully pinning you down as he crosses his forearms.

“Hey!” you protest, squirming under his hold. “Let me up!”

“Tell me what you’ve written about me!” he threatens, chuckling as you squirm under him.

“I only said that Satoru Gojo is an absolute monster and shouldn’t be trusted with anyone’s future,” you cry out, overly pantomiming your overwrought expressions, peeking up at him from under his laced arms.

“Oh? Just that? Well, you’re right. So, fair is fair!” Satoru replies, slipping off of you so fast that you nearly tumble to the hard concrete. Half a beat later, he’s back in front of you and lifting you back to your full height, fingers soothing over your arms as he tugs you toward him. “Would it kill you to toss in a bit of praise? Talk about my undeniable prowess and skill? Wax poetic about my stunning efficiency? You know, make them think that I’ve won you over with my charms. After all, you can’t resist me, can you?”

“But what if I don’t want to?” he teases, his voice falling into a lower, hushed pitch before he relaxes his hold, letting you slip from his hands.

A distant quake dashes up your spine, but it’s not from the chill in the air. “Uh, you sure you didn’t sneak some shots under the table? The way you’re pawing at me, you’d think you were the one in the drinking contest.”

“Nah, I told you, I don’t drink. Messes with my eyes.” Satoru pats his index finger against his white wrappings for emphasis.

“Mmm, the six eyes, right? Powerful ability, from what little I’ve heard of it.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “It’s a rare technique. Wanna see?”

You’d walked on, but once the question leaves his lips your feet swivel back, as if they have a mind of their own. He’s standing where he was, hands dug into the pockets of his pants, a lazy smile resting on his lips. The moonlight makes his hair shine, and the gleam is bright against the darkness of the street. The glow makes him look taller, imposing. He’s quiet as he waits for your answer and you take advantage of the extra time to mull over the strange man in front of you.

He’s enigmatic; a force to be reckoned with, for curses and fellow sorcerers alike and, like most jujutsu users, a little crazy. Even knowing all of this, there’s something about him that’s drawing you in. It’s like the pull of a magnet. It tugs at the forefront of your mind and makes you step closer, wanting to see if you can unravel the puzzle that’s Satoru Gojo.

“Fine,” you hear yourself reply, crossing your arms, steadfastly watching for his next move. “Go on. Let me see what all the hype is about.”

He grins and that mischievous look makes your heart beat race against your breastbone as yet another quake slips up your back. “Ready?” he asks, right thumb hooking under the fabric that covers his eyes. You nod once and the pad of his finger starts that short, upward, pull.

He’s slow, painfully slow, in his unveiling.

The smooth angle of his upper cheek peeks out, and he’s careful to roll up the white cloth as he goes. Then, right as he hits the groove of his lower eye, he stops, a frown pulling over his lips. “Mmm, I don’t know…” he contemplates, holding his thumb under his wrappings. “What if I don’t live up to your expectations? Can’t let you down. Not when you’ve been so patient. I know you’ve been wanting to ask, I can see it in your face. Every time we’d start an exorcism you’d look at me, like you were waiting, watching to see if I’d finally take off the coverings.”

Did you?

Does it matter?

Do you want it to matter?

Flabbergasted by his all too true accusations and entirely eaten up with curiosity, you march up to him and wrap your fingers around his raised wrist, not noticing that you’re actually touching him and completely unaware of the alluring smile he flashes when your hand coils around his. “Ugh, come on! For once in your life, stop being such a tease! You’re never fair, always so… so pompous and… and–”

You’d shoved his hand upward as you began your preamble but as soon as the tightly wrapped cloth passed over his right eye you feel your breath leave your tensed body.

His eyelashes are pale, the same ashen color as his hair, but they contrast beautifully with the lone eye that peers down. Beautiful? No, it’s more than that. It’s… it’s…

Truthfully, it’s indescribable and unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

It’s blue; but it’s not an ordinary shade. No, the color seems to meld and shift before your shocked gaze, drifting from hue to hue as the color deepens and lightens. Clouds. It’s like clouds passing over a summer sky. The brightness of the cerulean ensnares you, and you can feel your mouth go dry as you stare up at him.

His eyes are stunning, perfect, and irresistible, hauntingly so.

“So, what do you think?” Satoru asks, pulling his wrist from your grasp and snatching your limp hand in his, twining his long fingers between your own. His skin is warm and you need to say something, anything, but your mind is stuttering, lagging miles behind as you fall headfirst into the overwhelming pull of his presence.

Finally, you unstick part of your tongue.

“They’re… uh… I don’t… ha… God…” You shake your head roughly and the familiarity of that motion slips out of the trance he’s placed you under. As soon as you can think again, you jerk your hand from his and blindly walk down the darkened street. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest and you can’t stop nibbling on your lower lip.

It’s not… this isn’t how this is supposed to go, you think, trying vainly to get the shine of Satoru’s eyes out of your mind.

“Never answered my question,” Satoru coos beside you, his long legs quickly catching up with you. “What’s wrong? You like em’ a little too much?… Or…”

“They… they’re kinda creepy,” you blurt out, fingers curling into your palms.

“Creepy!” he gasps, hopping in front of you and lifting up both sides of his wrappings, granting you a peek of both eyes. You do your best to avoid looking at him head on, turning and weaving from him, but he dances closer each time you shift. Damn it. His animated performance makes you exhale a quiet chuckle, and he takes your amusement as a sign to continue, constantly placing himself in your way with a broad grin.

“Stop!” you plead, openly laughing at his sudden burst of silliness. “Now you’re acting like a creep! Satoru! Don’t! Stop showing them to me! You’re losing all of your appeal! Isn’t part of your charm the mystery? Actually, that’s likely all of your charm. Come on, stop it, there’s a cop on that street corner, he’s gonna think you’re drunk and harassing me!”

“Whaaat!” Satoru gulps, whipping his head around to look at the tired policemen that’s leaning against a dim street lamp. “Oh no! The police! Quick (Y/N), before he spots us!” His long fingers snatch up your pliant wrist and he tugs you into a dark alleyway.

“Hey! Where are you taking me? Officer!” you call out playfully as you balefully follow him, dragging your feet along the dusty ground. “He’s over here! Help!”

“Oi! Knock it off! You wanna get me arrested?”

“Oh please, there’s no way that guy is about to follow–”

“Shit! Shhh, he’s coming this way! Come on!” The sheer force of his grip yanks you forward and you stumble after him. He takes the corner of the next alleyway and the pair of you dash along the wet patches that litter the broken concrete. He’s moving at a tremendous speed, but his feet barely make a noise as he glides over the grimy ground and it takes everything you’ve got to just hold on and keep up.

A few twists and turns later, you can finally see the bright lights of the busy street that your hotel is on and you feel a heavy exhale of relief leave your burning lungs. Satoru skids to a halt right before he tumbles onto the safety of the sidewalk that rests a few paces ahead and pulls you beside him, grinning down at you as you try to catch your breath.

“I think we lost him!” he beams and you suck your teeth as you bend over, hands bracing themselves against your knees. “There…there’s no… he wasn’t actually chasing us. Even if he was, I doubt he can catch up now….” your voice trails off as you hear a distant shout from the alleyway and the thud of heavy boots.

No. There’s no way you think dumbly as you stare into the darkness, eyes searching for movement.

“See? I told you he was on to us. He’ll see us if he comes this way. What if… Oooh, lemme try something,” Satoru’s broad hands grab at you and he swiftly maneuvers you against the damp brick of the nearest building, careful not to scrape your back as he pushes you against the rust colored siding. “Just play along, I doubt he’ll notice. Don’t give me that look, it’s your fault he’s following us!”

“My fault? I didn’t… oh–”

His lips are sleeker than you’d imagined.

That first, teasing kiss he gives you already has you lifting your head, following the beguiling smoothness of his mouth, silently asking him for another caress. When he leans down your hands bunch into the dark fabric of his uniform and you can feel his smile against your slackened lips. He doesn’t touch you; his fingers don’t wander to the back of your jaw or the dip of your skull, instead he opts to flatten his angles against your curves, pressing until you can’t feel anything but him.

The next kiss he gives you has a little more bite behind it, literally.

His sharp nose bumps your cheek and his teeth worry against the plush swell of your lower lip, sucking and nipping until you’re snatching for his shoulders, searching for some kind of leverage. His mouth parts and right when you think he’s about to deepen his strokes and teasing pecks, he leans back and cocks his head at your flustered expression. “I’ve always wanted to try that,” he tells you, bracing one of his arms above your head. “It looks so fun in the movies.”

That cop could be right behind him, could be waiting for you both to stop your ridiculous routine and face the harsh gleam of reality, but you don’t care, not right now.

Your hands had fallen from him when he pulled back, and the absence of his warmth makes you desperate to touch him again. But, when you snatch at the corners of his dark jacket, you’re met with that damned barrier.

“Really?” you bemoan, licking at your kiss slick lips, trying again. “You’re the worst, you know that? You let me get used to the idea of having access to you and then just cut it–mmmph…”

With a faint shudder of space, his barrier is lowered once more and his lips are back against yours. This time, his hands join in and he cups his fingers behind your ears, tilting you up as he glides his soft touch over you until you’re groaning.

“Could have just told me you wanted more…” he rumbles in between his caresses, fingers tracing over the line of your jaw, your neck, and the slope of your shoulders. It’s like he can’t decide where he wants to go and you love the momentary burst of indecisiveness that’s broken over him.

More, apparently, entails you asking him to come up to your room.

He’d laughed when you’d mentioned it, your lips swollen and glassy from his attentions, and you’d almost taken it back, peeved by his genuine amusement at the idea, but then he’d plucked you into his arms and smoothed any lingering doubts with another flurry of nips and kisses.

“This gonna make it into your report?” he grins, yanking his high collared jacket off and tossing it carelessly onto the floor. “I should,” you barb, pulling the long band of your hip pouch off, letting it clatter to the ground as your fingers work up the buttons of your own uniform. “Let them think that you’re abusing your status.”

“Tch, me? Abuse my power? Never. Hey, I think you’re supposed to go slower with that. Don’t just yank all of your clothes off. You know, take your time, tease me a little,” Satoru chuckles, jerking his chin toward your busy hands.

“Oh? Wanting a show?” you ask, threading the last button and spreading the heavy material apart, revealing the thin shirt that’s obscuring his view of your breasts and stomach. “Well, that’s too bad, because taking all this gear off is never fun, or sexy for that matter…”

“Not with that attitude,” he hums, stepping closer, peeling his skin tight undershirt off and revealing the sleek planes of his rippled muscles. Most sorcerers are fit; and many boast beefier sets of pectorals and curving arches of biceps and triceps, but there’s something about the streamlined leanness of Satoru that’s making your hands itch. He’s not far, you could reach out for him, slip your fingers over the dips and beveled lines of his abdomen and follow that tempting strip of white that winds down the front of his pants, but that makes this too easy and there’s nothing about Satoru that’s easy.

“Mmm, that’s a new look.” His voice is distant to your ears, but the satisfied note that’s vibrating through his words makes you snap your head up, fingernails scraping against your palms. “You look like you wanna eat me (Y/N)… or maybe, taste is a better adjective. Awe, what’s the matter? Worried I won’t let you?”

You run your tongue over your lips and lift one hand, holding it steady and crooking your index finger at his brazen expression, pleased to see that cheeky smile of his falters a little. “Do me a favor, come here and take off that blindfold.”

“Ah-ha, so bossy,” he growls, voice sinking into that sinfully lower octave as he raises his broad hands to the back of his wrappings, unwinding the fabric and slowly advancing toward you. He stops when the tips of his toes are inches from your own, bracing his palms toward his face, holding the last strip across his eyes. “Wanna do the honors? Or are you expecting me to do all the work tonight?”

“As if. Besides…” you snicker, pulling two fingers to the remains of his blindfold and peeling it down, watching as his hair falls forward, slowly divulging the top of his forehead, pale eyebrows and that shock of avid blue that’s already gazing down at you. “I think you like when I tell you what to do, don’t you?”

“Ahh, looks like she figured me out,” Satoru groans, letting the ivory bindings fall to the floor, his hands already reaching for your waist. He doesn’t give you an opportunity to study him, but they’ll be time for that later, you reason, arms lacing around his chorded neck.

This kiss is hungrier and his tongue immediately dances along the seam of your lips, pressing until you give in. It’s an awkward angle, but he expertly adjusts himself to you, slotting a warm palm against the small of your back and raising the other to curl into your hair, lifting you until it’s perfect.

He’s greedy, devouring every inch you give him with a ravenous edge, but when you suck on his lower lip, he slips into something that’s clearly a little more unhinged.

Suddenly, he’s the one who’s bending forward, trying to get as close to you as he physically can, hunching until you can trace your fingertips over the sharpness of his jaw. His teeth clink against yours as he snatches you up, and you can feel the sharp bulge of his length, the hardness grinding down your hips and stomach as he yanks you nearer. It’s hard to breathe, but he’s refusing to let you budge, lips avariciously seeking and pulling, leaving you with nothing else but the sheer enormity of his touch.

“Fuck,” he gasps, finally letting you fall from his grasp, heaving out a few unsteady breaths. “You’ve got way too much on. Why do you still have so much on?” He plucks at your shirt but stops when he frees the edge from your pants, cerulean eyes bright in the moonlight. “Take it off,” he heaves, forehead pressing against yours, lifting his fingers from you. “Take it off for me, please?”

You nod, a little taken aback by his sudden desperation, and he watches closely as you yank the thin material up, blue eyes shining as you unveil yourself. When the shirt passes over your breasts, he gives you a distracted kiss to the temple before he pulls away, freeing you to pull it over your head and sighing happily when it finally hits the floor, leaving you partially bare. As soon as your arms lower, he’s back against you, hands cupping at your hips, jerking you forward. “Whoa,” you gasp, bracing your palms against his chest. “Slow down. Let me get the rest of this–”

“No, no, no, no,” he chants, fingers smoothing up your spine. “Stop, for a second… just… just gimme a minute. You feel so nice. Your skin, it’s… it’s so warm and so fucking smooth, ahhh. Ohh, yes. A few more seconds (Y/N), just let me… It’s been so long since I’ve touched someone like this. I kinda forgot what it felt like and I don’t wanna let go, not yet.”

His head is bowed and that hauntingly blue gaze is covered by his winced eyelids, but he can’t seem to stop moving. Even as he asks you to hold still, to let him touch you, feel you, he keeps shifting his weight and burrowing his brow into the dip of your shoulder.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, nails scritching at the clasp of your bra. “Please? Lemme take it off. Come on. I know you wanna touch me too, I saw how you were looking at me a minute ago. You’re so fucking cute, I can’t… ahaha, fuck, I sound insane. Look, I’ll slow down, I promise, just gimme a little more of you.”

When he mischievously snaps the strap of your bra against your shoulder blade, you can’t help but laugh at his infectious exuberance. His head lifts from you and he turns his attention to your neck, soft lips sucking and nipping at you until you’re wriggling in his hold. “Alright, alright! Just step back, Satoru! I’ll take it off,” you placate, knocking him away and huffing at the long face he gives you in return. “Here,” your fingers unhook the two pronged clasp and the delicate lace slips from your shoulders, falling to the carpeted floor with a hush. “Okay, that’s everything on the top half. Now what are–Ah! Satoru!”

He takes full advantage of his superior speed and before you can blurt out a proper retort, he’s against you.

His teeth worry at your earlobe and he immediately hoists you upward, seizing the lush curve of your ass and pulling you into his powerful arms, urging your legs to wrap around his trim waist. When you shakily oblige, he cups one lean arm under you, but the other drags you forward, scraping your newly bared breasts and stiffened nipples against the planes of his powerful pectorals. When he walks, you jostle in his grasp and coil your fingers around his neck, smiling when he moans contentedly at your reliance on his firm hold. “Damn,” he grunts, cocking his head so he can lick a wet circle into your pulse. “You feel fucking good (Y/N). So damn smooth, how are you so soft? God, I want more, I wanna feel everything.”

The front of his shins hit the edge of your bed and he tumbles you down, a dark grin spreading over his face as he watches you stretch out teasingly. He plants a knee into the soft bedding and braces both arms beside your head, leering over you.

For a long breath, both of you study each other, eyes whisking over gleaming skin and the curves of your faces. Without the added heft of that blindfold Satoru’s snowy hair hangs loosely over his face, straight tendrils clinging to his brow, making him look younger, mellower, and so very handsome. Opting to take advantage of this lull, you reach up and thread your fingers into the silken strands.

When you reach the edge of his temple, you scrape your nails against his scalp, grinning as he lets a heavy exhale fall between his lips, cerulean eyes falling to a pleased half mast. “You’re trying to distract me,” he accuses, gliding a wide palm up your side. You shake your head and keep twirling his hair across your fingertips, marveling at his own softness. “No. I just like your hair.”

“That’s a first,” he snorts, cupping a palm underneath one of your breasts and pulling his thumb over the swelling bud of your nipple. “Here I am, trying to feel you up, and you’re too distracted by my hair to appreciate it. How rude.”

“Shut up,” you gasp out, arching into his hand as he tweaks and plucks at your pebbled tip. “You’re lucky I’m even… mmm… letting you do this.”

“Please. It was your idea, remember?”

Satoru lowers one of his braced arms, letting his weight fall heavily to one side as he keeps his deepening ministrations up. Your fingers are still buried in his hair when he drops his lips to your breast. You feel the flick of his tongue first, and the light tap has you bowing your back, gasping out a faint cry as his rough appendage continues to swipe and twirl over your sensitive flesh. Instinctively, your hands tug at his pearlescent strands and he tilts his head up, fixing you with a lazy stare. “That’s better, looks like I just need to refocus you, huh?” he muses, his words half garbled as he sucks your plump breast into his mouth. He keeps flicking his tongue over you as he suckles, lapping and nipping until you’re writhing under him.

Once he’s satisfied, his free hand lowers to your grinding hips, forcing you to lay flat against the bed, switching his attention to the neglected twin, sucking and pressing open mouthed bites to your damp, shaking skin.

A tight heat is coiling in your core and your thighs rub against each other, trying to cool the sharp pricks of arousal that are coursing through you. As soon as your hands fall from his head, Satoru picks up his pace, licking his sloppy tongue under your breasts and nibbling his way down your quivering stomach. “You’re still wearing way too much,” he scolds, fingers toying with the gold clasp of your pants.

“It’s… oh… difficult to take things off when you… ah–won’t let me move more than two feet from you.” You’d meant it to sound a little firmer, but his constant touch is wearing down your focus, distracting you with brilliant flashes of his luminescent blues and whites.

“Awe, (Y/N),” he whines, popping his hand against your hip, long fingers digging into your swelled curves. “That’s not fair. I told you, I always have my barrier up. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve touched someone, anyone? I mean really touched them?”

“Daw,” you sigh, propping yourself up on your elbows and peering down at him. “You poor thing. The all powerful Satoru Gojo, too honed and practiced with his neutral technique that he can’t even hold anyone’s hand.”

“Ha, such a jerk,” he laughs, exaggerating a wounded frown. “I bare my soul to you and this is how I’m treated?”

“Stop being so dramatic,” you scoff, yanking your legs from under him and popping up on your knees, hands reaching for him, curling under his jaw and urging him upwards. His eyes lock onto yours and the grin that tweaks the corner of his lips gives you an idea. “You said you wanted to touch more of me, right?”

As you wait for your answer, you scoot backwards, making him follow you across the bed, finally luring all of his sprawling form onto the cool sheets. “Mmhm,” he grunts, doing his best to keep close, teasing fingers inches from your skin at all times, always ready to stroke and cup each time you pause. When you hit the headboard you stop, studying his features, admiring the growing hunger that’s screaming its way out of his wide eyes.

“You ever eaten a girl out?”

The question hangs for half a second and you can see his pupils dilate, the black threatening to swallow up the sky streaked blue of his eyes. Then, right when you’re about to tease him for his gaping mouth and flushed cheeks, he’s bowling past you, splaying out against the mattress and pulling you on top of him.

“Fuck, that’s by far the best thing I’ve heard all day. Hell, all month. I’ll likely go to my grave thinking about that question. Ouch! Stop squirming, you’re kneeing me in the ribs.”

“I wouldn’t… Satoru! I can’t breathe if you hold me like that!” His arms are like cables, all tensed muscle and raw strength as he pins you against his heaving chest, lips kissing and nipping at any part of you he can reach.

“Whatever,” he grumbles, sucking a bruise into your arched collarbone. “Hurry up and take your pants off. And don’t say you can’t do it like this, you’re a grade 1 sorcerer, you can do anything you put your mind to.”

“Is that going to be part of your teaching regime?” you smart, bucking your hips up so you can unclasp and wiggle your pants down your legs.

“Oooh, you’re right, that sounds good. Damn, I gotta start writing this shit down. That way I can have a whole list of euphemisms. Can you imagine? Molding young minds and helping them to stand up to all the bullshit that those so-called elders make everyone suffer under. All those rules and regulations, the stupid ins and outs they make us all jump through–”

“Hmm,” your voice falls to a gentle hum as you snatch at his chin, stilling his chatter with a single finger against his lips. “That sounds ambitious, but why don’t we take things a little slower, give that mind of yours something else to focus on?”

“Oh?” Satoru smirks, arching an ashen eyebrow at you. “Then you better get up here, before I get distracted again.”

“Don’t you mean down?”

“Huh, down? Ah, I see where the confusion is. Nah, I want you to ride my tongue, baby, so hurry up.” His long arms help him jerk you upward, easily lifting and enticing you forward. That early impatience is peeking out once more, and he pops his head up, nostrils flaring as your uncovered cunt drifts nearer. “Ah, God, I bet you’re so fucking wet. I can smell you from here. Come on, grab onto the headboard and let me get to it.”

Your legs shake as you plant them beside his head and you do your best to steady your pounding heart, pulling a thin stream of air through your parted lips. As soon as you touch the wood of the headboard, he’s gripping your thighs so tightly you’re sure he’s going to leave bruises behind. The tip of his nose is the first thing you feel, and it’s so close to your pulsing clit that you inadvertently cant your hips forward. “Ooh, sensitive, are we?” he crows, nestling himself under you, his breath hot against your dampened folds and wet curls.

The following slick slurp of his tongue and the slow pass of his lips make your head tip back. He’s surprisingly gentle, slowly licking his way along your labia, pulling and sucking as he goes, teasing closer to that tight bud that’s waiting, just a little bit higher.

At first, you worry about crushing him, too caught up in the placement of your weight to fall into the haze his mouth is begging you to slip into. But then his lips latch onto you, careful to mouth in time with the thud of your clit, suckling and squeezing until you can’t help but grind down, earning yourself a sharp groan that reverberates against your trembling skin. Using the weight of the headboard as leverage, you roll your hips over him, shifting in time with his well-placed rhythm.

He’s good, but even the great Satoru Gojo isn’t perfect, not all the time.

When he nips at you a little too hard you shift back, depriving him of your wet heat, loving the petulant sighs and moans he gives you when you do. “Ah, sorry. Gimme a little more time,” he bargains, fingers sinking into the voluptuous curve of your ass, tying to urge you back over his glistening lips. “I’ll do better, (Y/N). Besides, I want you to cum for me. You taste so fucking good and I want it, I want all of it. Hey! Don’t be like that! I said I’d do better. Come back here.”

God, he’s such a brat.

Every time you shift away he’s got another string of exasperated pleas ready, twitching his fingers and shaking his pale head at your impudence. “Less talking,” you moan, shivering as he delves his tongue into you, feeling his grin as your cunt squeezes around his intrusion. “Ok, ok,” he growls, using his brute strength to overpower your tensed legs. “Mmm, yes baby, ah–just relax, I’ll take care of you.”

Fuck, you think as you sink your fingers into his hair, spurring him on, this feels way too good.

When he captures your clit between his teeth and tweaks the tip of his tongue against you, you can’t help but fall to pieces. Your orgasm hits you like a battering ram, seizing hold of your muscles as it rolls through you and scattering a faint spark of spots across your vision. Satoru’s arms wrap around your blindly pistoning hips, helping you to sink closer, ravenously slurping and swallowing down each wave of arousal that hits his gluttonous lips.

You’re still shaking when he pulls out from under you, flipping you bonelessly under him as his hands finally rid himself of his clearly tented and damp pants. Your eyes are just clearing when you catch sight of him, studiously following that trail of white curls to his impressive length. His cock is long, curving proudly toward his chiseled stomach and bubbling a clear string of pre-cum from the flushed tip. You do your best to sit up, but as soon as he catches sight of your movement, his broad palm is pressing you back. “Ah-ah,” he taunts, stroking a hand over his swollen cock and wiping the last of your slick from his face against his shoulder. “Keep still for me, ‘kay?’”

His wide palms spread your legs apart, and he soothes his fingertips along your skin as he tugs a few heady groans from himself. “Fuck, you look so good. You’re so goddamn pretty. When you were sitting there at the bar and you looked so fucking happy I couldn’t take my eyes off you, you just looked so nice. Haven’t even known you a week, and I’m already obsessed with hearing that laugh of yours. You put some kinda spell on me, huh? That what this is?”

“Ugh, stop talking, Satoru,” you threaten, watching the steady ebb and flow of his clenched fist. His cock looks so smooth and you’re desperate to reach for it, to take hold of velvety flesh and see how long it would take for the world’s strongest sorcerer to be putty in your hands.

He arches a pale brow at your blatant stare. “You want it?”

“I want you,” you correct, and the smile that breaks across his handsome face makes your heart squeeze.

“Awe, how can I possibly say no to that?” he asks, gleefully lining himself up with your slit. Despite his early eagerness, he’s taking his time with this part, running the bulbous head of his cock over you, gathering up some of your gossamer strands, slicking himself with your dripping arousal. “Sorry,” he amends when he makes another pass along your folds. “It’s been awhile and I want to take it all in. I don’t wanna rush this.”

“It’s fine,” you smile, lifting your hands to pass them over his stomach, watching as his muscles ripple under your delicate touch. “Just don’t take too long or you’re not going to be on top for much longer.”

“That a threat or a promise, baby?” Satoru leers, finally slipping his tip past that first, tight ring of your entrance. Despite his bravado, his lips curl over his teeth and he lets out a low hiss as he sinks into you, inch by shallow inch. The pressure of his cock makes you arch, legs automatically wrapping around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. He bows his head and his ethereal gaze falls behind his shaking eyelids as he thrusts forward, edging himself along until he bottoms out within you. Fuck, you feel so full.

The stretch of him makes you shake and you’re grateful he’s taking his time when he stills, lips smacking distracted kisses over your heated cheeks and parted lips, giving you time to adjust to him, and he to you. After a few steadying breaths, his teeth bite at the hollow of your throat and he pulls his hips back, grinning as your hands grasp into the sheets, a sharp whine escaping you. He echoes your sentiment, letting a gasping string of curses tumble from his shaking lips as he ruts forward again, one hand gripping at your right leg, prying you from his waist and slinging the trembling limb over his shoulder.

This angle has him pressing against something wonderful and sharp, and you can’t help but gasp out his name as he starts to methodically ram into it, over and over. You can feel him swell at the sound of your pleading moans and you savor the feel of his cock throbbing against your tender walls. “More,” you shudder, fingers trying to hurry his steady hips as he diligently cants into you.

“In a minute,” he grunts, biting at your pliant skin, arms coiling under your back. “This feels too fucking good. Let me just… ah… fuck…”

He slows, moving at a pace that sets your teeth on edge, and you thrash under him. Although his cock is digging against that aching place that’s sending dots and stars across your eyes, it’s not enough pressure. Licking your lips, you worm one of your hands between the two of you and pinch and roll your fingers over your clit, easing some of the tingling bittersweetness that’s pulsing over you.

“Alright, alright, point taken,” Satoru chuckles, releasing your leg from his tight grip and re-lacing it around his hips. “How do you want it, baby? You want it fast? Or do you want it hard? Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur, peeking up at his enthralling cerulean, willingly ensnaring yourself in the intensity of his gaze. “I just want more of you.”

“Tch,” he hums, cupping a hand against your warm cheek. “Don’t say shit like that, I might end up falling for you.”

The laugh that echoes from your lips is swiftly cut off by a gasp as he abruptly ups the pace of his thrusts. He’s quick, but he’s still listening and watching for what you like. When you moan he’s right there with you, steadying his rhythm, and when you call out his name, he digs a little harder.

It’s too much. It feels raw, like you’re scratching at a cut. Like there’s some itch that you just can’t reach.

All of it, the feel of his meaty balls slapping against the sticky plushness of your ass, and those breathy moans makes your head spin. The intensity of the moment slips your fingers from your clit, but he makes up for their loss by grinding down each time he sinks into your cunt, scraping the hard edge of his pelvic bone against your throbbing bud.

He’s good. Fuck.

You can feel the hazy slope of your orgasm approaching and you blindly arch up each time he careens downward, ensuring that he’s hitting right where you need him to. His movements start to hit a lull as he slips into his own fog of lingering pleasure, dipping his head to your neck and sighing contentedly when you kiss at his temple. But the tenderness of your touch must knock him out of his own whirring thoughts and he rewards you with another set of rapid fire thrusts, his lips pulling from your neck to seek out yours, kissing and nipping until you’re gasping for air.

“Mmmm,” he moans, breath hot against your skin. “You feel so good and you’re getting so fucking tight. You gonna’ cum for me? One more time?”

You do your best to gulp out a reply, but the abrupt press of his calloused thumb against your clit makes you shake instead, a tingling rush of heady arousal racing its way up your spine. Smiling down at your awed expression, he lifts his fingers away and uncoils your legs from his waist, flinging them both over his broad shoulders, his knees settling forward as he continues to roughly thrusts his hips forward, driving you quivering body into the soft sheets.

“You like that? Does it feel good? Does it? Fuck baby, I’m begging you, give it to me one more time. Can you do that for me? Can you cum for me? I want you to cum on my dick, ah, come on (Y/N), just once more, that’s all I’m asking. You can do it, can’t you?”

He’s rasping his questions against the shell of your ear, hands cupping at the side of your face, keeping you close as he races toward his own end, voice lifting into a frantic plea as he hurtles closer, desperate to feel your satisfaction rippling around him before he completely looses himself to the aching pleasure of your body.

“I–” you choke out, arms lacing around his back, nails pressing half moons into his skin. He moans at the bite of your touch and tilts your hips upward, seeking more of you.

That change is all it takes.

The tip of his cock presses down, lifts, and then suddenly you’re seeing stars.

“I’m… yes! Oh, fuck. Satoru, just like that. Don’t… don’t stop!” For once, he doesn’t tease. He just smiles, his face flushed, pale cheeks dusted a pleased pink and repeats the motion, careful to keep everything absolutely steady. The repeated push and pull, the warmth of your cunt, the feel of your skin, it’s making his cock throb and his heart race, but he’s determined to see you break.

There. There it is. Fuck, you’re so pretty.

On an outward pull of his hips, your back arches and your thighs tense and he lets out a long growl, quickly breaking his fastidious rhythm and sinking back into you, gasping as you flutter around him. A new flush of wetness leaks out of your cunt and squelches between your pinned legs, dripping over the cleft of your ass.

He only lasts a few extra ruts, but the feel of him swelling and pulsing inside your tender pussy almost topples you over the edge again and you cling to him in the aftermath of his release, your heaving breasts catching against his flat pectorals.

With a quick peck, he slowly lowers your legs and eases himself out of you, blue eyes widening at the sight of his softening hardness leaving your leaking pussy. “I don’t know which I like better,” he contemplates, leaning back on his haunches and slicking his index finger up the pooling dribble you’ve both left behind, spreading the spidery traces across his hand. “You wet and dripping for me or filled to the brim with my cum.” His lewd comment makes you huff out a low groan of exasperation and you roll off of the bed, shaking your head as you steady yourself and walk toward the bathroom.

After a brisk rinse in the shower, you pad back into the darkened room, fully expecting to see an empty bed. You’re not sure why that’s your first thought, but something about Satoru doesn’t scream: I’m the kind of guy who likes post coitus cuddles. So the sight of him, bundled under your sheets, white hair poking just above the edge of the blankets, is a surprise.

“Oh,” you pause, dropping your towel on the floor as you openly gape at him. “You’re still here… I, well, I figured you’d take off.”

“Huh?” Satoru croaks, popping his head up, his face comically askew. “What kinda guy do you think I am?”

“Apparently the kind that stays over,” you snicker, digging around for your discarded bra and panties.

He lets out a mock gasp, popping a hand against his cheek. “How could you say that! And after I gallantly brought you back here?”

“And fucked me,” you remind him, slipping your lacy underwear back on and re-adjusting the clasp of your bra.

“That too!” he qualifies, arching a pale eyebrow at your impassive face. “I’d say I was pretty generous. You did cum twice after all.”

“Oh my God,” you sigh, crossing your arms across your chest and perching beside the edge of the bed, shaking your head at the sprawling man under your covers.

“Come on, you wouldn’t seriously make me walk all the way back to the school at this hour. What if something happens to me? How could you live with yourself, knowing you kicked me out into the cold?”

“It’s summer,” you point out, rolling your eyes. “And you’re… what six foot three… and you have the legendary six eyes… I mean, I think you’ll be ok.”

“(Y/N),” Satoru begins, narrowing those bright blue eyes at you.

“Yeah?”

“Is it your habit to sleep with helpless guys and then kick them out? You’re so cruel.”

“Stop it,” you warn, snatching at the sheets and yanking them off of his naked form.

“No!” he protests, fingers clutching vainly at the thin cover. “Your bed is so nice! Come on, I’ll be good and I don’t snore. Well, not that I know of anyway…”

“Ugh, fine. I don’t have the energy for this and we have to be up in four hours. Just shush and scoot over.”

“Oh? Do you not have the energy because I fucked it out of you?”

“I’m sorry, were you wanting to stay the night?”

“Alright, alright,” he splays his hands up in supplication and makes room for you, watching closely as you curl up beside him, a smile playing over his lips. “Hey,” he asks once you’ve closed your eyes, leaning close to your reposed form.

“What?” you groan, cracking an eye open.

“Can I be the little spoon?”

“Satoru…”

“Mmhm?”

“Shut up.”

notes: hehe. i feel like he’d be so freaking chatty in bed. plus, how could i not make him a little touched starved? stop making me like characters that just wanna be held universe, gosh :3c

#jjk friday #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #reader insert #jjk imagines

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years ago

Text

Tiny Treasures | JJK x Reader | 💜🐾(☁️)🔞

Commission for @eyerin !! Thank you sm for that request! 💖

Want to request too? Take a look at my ko-fi then! (ko-fi.com/bonnykookoo)

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Hybrid!Reader

Genre: hybrid AU, non-idol!AU, Web-Designer!Jungkook, bunny hybrid!Reader, featuring Taehyung: your local scatterbrain (TM)

Warnings: absolute fluff, it’s cotton candy I swear, so soft, so sweet, oh lord, reader is shy and sweet, Jungkook is whipped, he’s so sweet with her ugh, this is now my official emotional support Koo, some mentions of past abuse/neglect, did I mention that kook is whipped, because his heart go boom boom whenever reader so much as BREATHES, strength kink (hint), your local praise and size kink say hi as well, no smut would you believe it, possibly future parts? I dont know I just love them okay

Summary: Jungkook was a hopeless romantic believing in love at first sight- and then there was you, a bunny experiencing the tiny treasures of life for the first time. Together, with him.

It's busy in Jungkooks apartment- something thats unusual, considering that technically, the young man lives alone, doesn't really fuck around, and works at home as well ever since he took on the job as a web-designer. There was no reason to cause such an amount of stress in his home- other than the simple fact of his best friend currently pacing around, steps so fast and hard that Jungkook scared his flooring would soon melt underneath the older ones shoes he didn't take off in a rush. There were bags on his couch, bags on his counter, and a backpack somewhere in his living room- all because of;

"Okay so, she's okay with eating almost everything BUT!" Taehyung holds his finger up as if he's lecturing a child in front of him- which he's not, Jungkook is a full grown adult at this point, and looks at him unimpressed with furrowed brows as his older friend lists up things he needs to keep in mind for the hybrid he's looking after for the day. "Please make sure she's hydrated, she tends to forget to drink during the day. If she does and gets a headache there's medication in the bag that I've put on the couch- you've seen it right? Should I show you again?" He stresses, and Jungkook holds his friend's shoulders for a moment.

"Can you like, breathe for a moment please?" He says, and Taehyung nods, following the instructions for a moment before Jungkook continues. "Okay great. Now that you're not hyperventilating anymore I can tell you that yes, I've seen the bag-" He says, pointing towards the couch that's littered with so many things it seems like he's giving the hybrid up for adoption today instead of just dropping her off until tomorrow. "Second of all, I've taken care of Yoongi before and he's still alive, what's so different? Just because she's a bunny- or was it hare- wait is there a difference..?" Jungkook drawls off, suddenly thinking and not quite remembering if he's ever quite asked himself the difference of these two things. Taehyung however seems offended by that.

"Jungkook, she's a BUNNY, not a hare! That's a HUGE difference!" He whines out, and Jungkook looks at him a bit sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Oh god maybe I shouldn't go, this is a bad idea.." He says, already taking out his phone to cancel the date he has tonight, but jungkook holds the elders friend before he can make that mistake. Taehyung was a busy man, running a hybrid rehabilitation center in Seoul and Daegu- while talking to Busan's department for partnership. He really loves his job- but sometimes he gets too invested in it, just like now. He's finally got a date for himself after years of being alone; but he almost shot the poor woman down when he remembered that you, a newly rescued hybrid was staying at his home- something he never did before. Sure, he had taken over the rehabilitation of hybrids before, but he had never ever taken a case home with him. But after meeting you, seeing you, and knowing what you've been put through, his heart simply couldn't leave you at the shelter- even though he knew that it was probably the best place to be for you. But he had done what he had done now- there was no turning back with you. He couldn't leave you alone yet, so Jungkook had volunteered to look after you for the day and night, until Taehyung would pick you up the next day. The younger one had always looked after Yoongi, a cat hybrid later on adopted by Jung Hoseok, a friend of both of them; so he personally felt good about taking you in.

It was just for a day- what could go wrong?

"Come on, don't you trust me? Or is she like, super aggressive or something?" Jungkook asks, and Taehyung sighs. He hasn't told the younger one much about you, believing it was bad karma to talk about others when they weren't present. Yet this time he'd have to make an exception- because Jungkook needed to know at least some things about you and where you came from. Everything else would be unfair.

Taehyung sighed. "She's a category 3, so she's still recovering from her past home. She's just.. super shy and timid, and gets scared pretty easily so, I'm just terrified Jungkook. I know you don't want to cause any harm, but what if something happens and she just falls back? She's come so far these days, you should've seen her when I got her.." He said, and Jungkook looked at him- the eyes of the younger serious, reminding Taehyung that deep inside, he was more than just a schoolfriend. "When she got to me, she didn't even know how to use cutlery Kook. She.." But Jungkook smiled, placing a hand to his friend's shoulder in reassurance.

"I get it. I'll do my best, okay?" He says. "I promise I'll call you as soon as something's up, okay?" He says, and Taehyung nods. With a small wave he leaves the apartment to pick you up from the shelter- and Jungkook, in exchange, began to rummage through the plastic bags Taehyung had dumped onto his couch.

He was familiar with hybrids to some degree- he never really had owned one, and neither did his family. He knew that his brother owned a dog hybrid, but he had yet to bring him to family gatherings; Jungkook had never seen the puppy hybrid himself. His parents however said that she was nice, and Jungkook never really had any bad experiences with them. He sometimes visited Taehyung at work and conversed with some of the more chatty hybrids.

He was familiar with caring for them to some degree. As already stated before, he'd looked after 'grumpy-cat' Yoongi a lot back in the days when he was still in the center for rehabilitation. Jungkook knew about their different preferences in food, and their different behaviors. He, sadly, also knew about the mistreatment most of the hybrids went through before getting to the center into Taehyungs and his Staff's care- and he always hated it. The stories he sometimes heard made him sleepless during the night, made him research donation websites just to cleanse his mind for the moment.

But it only ever lasted until the next case would turn up at Taehyung's doorstep.

Quite frankly, Jungkook didn't know what he'd expected. After all, he'd never seen you in person, he simply went after Taehyungs description of you, but what was now standing at his door, was something that erased any thought he may had prior to opening it.

You were so.. delicate? Cute? He's never used the word 'cute' for a person before, because he simply thought aegyo and all of that was something girls put up for a facade of innocence. He hated that with a passion, cringing any time he saw it- yet there was, in his opinion, no other word that described you better. You were just as shy as Taehyung said, yet you forced yourself to bow a little as a greeting, taking a small step back however when Jungkook snapped out of his thoughts and opened the door fully to step aside. He threw a smile your way, hoping it could ease your nerves a little- and it seemed to work, because he saw your lips turn a bit upwards into a shy smile.

He felt as if he'd just won a ranked overwatch match against the seoul dynasty.

"Okay, I'm gonna pick you up tomorrow ASAP, okay? Are you gonna be fine here?" Taehyung asked you, and you looked over his shoulder- your bright eyes meeting Jungkooks, who was leaning against his kitchen counter, smiling boyishly while waving a little. It made you feel okay; he seemed nice enough, and after all, any friend of Taehyungs was a friend of yours. He'd taught you that. So you nodded, and Taehyung smiled, patting your head for a moment, your ears flopping to the sides before standing upright again after his hand left you. He waved goodbye and seemed a bit reluctant to leave- but you knew that Taehyung was excited for his date. He'd talked about nothing else these past days, and it made you happy to see him so giddy over something.

"So." Jungkook started, his voice fitting him, you thought. He looked fit, and comfortable to you- his oversized sweater probably big enough for you to hide in. Wait- what was that thought?! You averted your eyes immediately, ears shyly drooping backwards as you began to shuffle your fluffy socks on his wooden floor, the laminate suddenly super interesting. "Taehyung said you should have a nice healthy dinner- but I may forgot to buy groceries, so, is it okay for you to tag along?" He asked. "You can choose what you want to eat while we're at it, too." He said, and you perked up at that.

"I can?" You asked, ears slowly moving into a more confident position again, and he smiled at that achievement.

"Sure!" He exclaimed, and walked towards the door, grabbing his jacket, before he looked at you. You were staring at something- and as he followed your gaze, he saw your shoes. Simple sneakers in colors that fit your current clothes, but, was he connecting the dots correctly? He didn't want to offend you in case you were simply deep in thought, so he simply waited, slipping on his own shoes, as he watched you out of the corner of his eyes.

You really were struggling to tie your shoes.

So he simply sat down on the small step that divided his entrance from the rest of his apartment, and tapped the top of his knee. "Come here, I'll help." He said, and your eyes widened, shaking your head.

"I'll- I'll get your pants dirty.." You said worriedly, but Jungkook shook his head again.

"Don't worry about that." He said, and you hesitantly placed your shoe on his knee with just the very tip- something that made him smile a bit before he placed it down properly, tying the laces quickly.

"Sorry." You apologized, but he shook his head yet again as he tied the other.

"It's fine." He simply said, before you both got up, going outside. "Do you, uhm.." He began, nervously picking on the slight fuzz of his skin against his chin before he finished, by holding his hand out. "You know, so you don't, accidentally get lost or something. Taehyung would kill me." He laughed, and you blushed, before hesitantly taking his larger hand, holding it as he walked to the nearby grocery store with you.

Inside, it was busy as usual- but Taehyung typically didn't take you out during these hours, something about you maybe becoming overloaded by sensations and sounds. You've never been to a grocery like this before though- because while yes, it was a lot, Jungkooks hand never left yours even for a second. He calmly explained things you seemed interested in, and his entire presence calmed you down, even though you didn't really know him at all.

But your instincts were telling you that he was a good person; and until now, they had never been wrong.

"So, which one do you like?" He asked, pulling you from your thoughts as you were drifting off a little. He smiled at you, while you were looking at the shelves, pointing towards a pack of ramen. You've never tried it, but you had been interested when you saw them at Taehyungs place once or twice- however, back then you had been too shy to ask if you could maybe try it sometimes. "Hmm.. you sure about this one? It's pretty spicy sweetheart." He said, letting the petname slip as your ear flinched a bit into his direction, eyes widening a bit. Taehyung sometimes called you sweetheart as well- but somehow, in some weird way, it made you feel all tingly inside hearing it from Jungkook. "Uhm.. maybe, I can buy this one, and this chicken flavoured one- you can taste mine, and if you like it, we can switch. Okay?" He explained, and you nodded, not really listening anymore as you looked at him with an almost fascinated expression.

Taehyung had told you he had never truly taken care of a female hybrid, let alone a rehab-case such as you were. But he seemed so nice, so sweet, it was hard to imagine him not owning a hybrid- or being single. While Taehyung had never outright said that Jungkook was, you assumed so by the hints you noticed here and there. No other scent than his in his home, and you also remember Taehyung teasing the younger yesterday over the phone, saying something that at least Taehyung was getting himself some dating action.

For some weird reason, knowing that Jungkook didn't have a partner made you feel nice.

But then you remembered his words. "But- what will you eat if I eat yours?" You ask, and he shrugs.

"We'll simply switch then. I don't mind." He says, placing both packs in the shopping cart as you watched him. Your old home hadn't been too kind to you, yet you still didn't know anything else than the treatment you got back there. It was still new to you how easy going some people were, how much freedom you actually had. You've seen kids on swings last week, and a girl feeding a stray cat in an alleyway. Those were things you've never seen before.

"Okay, now the fun part." He says, and you look up at him, his head nodding towards something specific.

Icecream.

Your eyes widened seeing all the different packages and flavours, making your ears droop a bit in confusion. You were lost; what should you choose? You didn't know any of these except some flavors Taehyung had at his house. Jungkook, already connecting the dots, opens one of the doors. "Do you like fruity things? I personally like mild flavors, like vanilla." He says, picking a box of two separate containers. "How about this one?" He asks, and you nod excitedly.

"Yes please.!" You say, pretty much vibrating on the spot as Jungkook places the box into the cart, making an elderly lady next to the two of you chuckle.

"So sweet. And great manners too!" She says, before a hybrid walks up to her; his bright orange badge showing that the dog hybrid was a service worker. "Take good care of her, young man, yes?" She says, and Jungkook nods, squeezing your hand a little tighter as you both watch the lady getting escorted towards the cashiering section.

Jungkook had honestly never really thought about taking care of his own hybrid. He always worried that his friend's teasing was actually real- that he was too immature to quite take care of another living being except his own. Depp down he knew of course that he was capable of that, but insecurities sometimes still bit at his soul from the inside. He couldn't do much about that- he was a hopeless person in that department; still believing in love at first sight, and that human-hybrid relationships are nothing weird.He secretly loved romantic dramas, read shōjo mangas at the bookstore whenever he was too scared to buy them- afraid of being teased for it. He hated perfumes, enjoyed soft smells and fabrics, and even knew how to braid hair. He may looked like a typical muscle-head; with nothing filling his brain apart from protein powder and the need to work out and survive off of energy drinks and leftover cup noodles, but that wasn't really who he was. He simply liked to take care of himself, nothing more. He didn't work out for anyone but himself.

For some reason he enjoyed taking care of you like this. You were so sweet, so cute, that he couldn't help but already feel a little protective of you- that fact having only little to do with Taehyung. Maybe he simply needed a small push into the right direction to finally experience what it was like to have a hybrid, to test out what it was like to live with one.

But he didn't just want a hybrid, he noticed as he watched you carefully place the items of the shopping cart on the cash register, just like he'd asked you to do-

He wanted you.

He could feel someone staring at him. It was like it was piercing his neck, like laser dots on his skin, and it should freak him out like nothing else if it wasn't for the fact that he knew it couldn't be any other than you. He looked at the pot he was putting water in, the reflection showing your form sneakily watching him from the entrance of the kitchen. He chuckled. "Hm.." He began, dramatically sighing. "I wish there was a certain sweet bunny hybrid here to help me cook.. but I guess she's too busy.." He hummed, as he made sure the water in the pot was enough for one pack, before he turned around, your form now standing a few steps behind him. "Oh?" He said, acting surprised as you shyly smiled.

"Can I help.?" You asked, and he nodded, patting the counter to which you walked, squeaking cutely as he simply turned you around with gentle hands, lifting you up to sit between the stove on one side, and the sink on the other. You'd somehow come to the conclusion already that he was quite strong- but the short taste you got of his strength made your heart race a little. It was instinctively, really; your kind looked for partners with certain attributes, after all. They were supposed to protect you and your offspring at some point- even though that part made you look at your knees in shame, before Jungkook snapped you out of your thoughts before they could sway.

"Can you open the packages for me?" He asks, and you nod, taking them out of his hands and opening the foil carefully. You take out the still hard noodles before the flavor pack falls out, slapping on the floor as it falls down out of your hand. Jungkook however doesn't scold you- simply picks it up and gives it to you, and you look at him for a moment- watching him for any indication that he's mad. But he's not.

It's as if nothing had happened.

So you put the flavor pack and tiny oil package on top of the noodle blocks, so carefully Jungkook has to force himself not to just simply scream from how concentrated you look doing something so simple. "When the water boils, like, when it bubbles a lot, you can put these packs in, alright?" He says, and you nod, as if he's giving you instructions on how to prepare for war. He can't help himself at that moment, grinning so hard his dimples show as he reaches out to pet your head.

It's a little like Taehyung, but it feels a lot different.

With Taehyung, while you do feel safe and comfortable around him, and it feels nice, it's not at all like Jungkook. The younger one makes your heart race. He makes your pride swell, and your eyes sparkle- it's as if you've been given an award for the greatest achievement ever. You almost whine when he lets go.

So you later on put the packs into the boiling water with so much precision, immediately seeking his approval right after, to which he smiles at you. "Good job, Bunny." He says, and pets your head, absentmindedly moving the palm of his hand from the top of your head to instead cradle your cheek. Its such a soft and gentle touch that you almost go limp- closing your eyes and leaning into it. He only notices that when he looks back from the pots- now turned down a bit to a simmer as to not overcook- and his heart surely bursts in that moment.

You look so.. there's no word in Jungkooks head to properly describe the view he has, that image of you in front of him. He can't help himself- begins to trace his thumb against the soft skin, watching your ears relax and flop down. He can't imagine that someone like you could ever be done harm to; and while he doesn't know much about your past, he's sure it hadn't been pretty. It makes him want to just keep you right here, in his apartment, close to him, where he can make sure no one could ever cause you to be upset.

Both of you are abruptly pulled out of your thoughts by his phone ringing, the device so badly placed that it falls down to the floor after vibrating a few seconds. "Fuck!" He exclaims, picking it up and sighing in relief when it turns out to still be without damage. He takes on the call, and on the other side of the line, is Taehyung. He greets his younger friend, instantly asking him if you're okay- if you've eaten yet, drank anything, if you're homesick- all in one breath, it seems. Jungkook chuckles, simply placing a hand on your knee, thumb again tracing a pattern he's unsure of what its supposed to be. The warmth seeps into your skin through the fabric of your clothing. He smiles at you, and for the first time, maybe because you're feeling so.. smitten with him, you smile back. Not just a shy little lift of your lips, but a full on beaming smile, making his hand reach out to brush along your ear- internally gasping at how soft the fur is. How can something be this soft?! "Taehyung, she's fine. We're making ramen right now, she helped me cook, and afterwards we're gonna have icecream and watch a movie or something." He explains, and Taehyung claps back with something along the lines of 'but don't let her have the spicy stuff, she can't handle that-' but the younger one doesn't listen that much anymore. "Yeah yeah, listen, we're fine. Go get your girl, jesus." He laughs, and Taehyung chuckles as well, hanging up after reminding him to get you to bed at a reasonable time- as if you're a child he's taking care of.

Because that's the thing. You're not a child- and in Jungkooks eyes, you're not a pet. You're so sweet and easily interested in the simplest of things, he can't help but wonder if you had any hobbies. Did you like video games? Or drawing? Were you into books- hell, could you even read? He wanted to know so much more about you than just those tiny breadcrumbs of info he had gotten from Taehyung. He dearly hoped that maybe, maybe you would like to see him again after leaving tomorrow. He really hoped.

And as you ate, shaking your head at Jungkooks spicy ramen after tasting the broth a little from his spoon (which he did make sure to blow on as to not have you burn your tongue, bless his heart), he really did hope.

He really hoped that maybe, you felt just as happy around him as he felt around you.

It seemed that going grocery shopping, cooking, and eating icecream had taken its toll on you. Your eyes were practically falling shut every few seconds, yet you tried to stay awake as much as possible. Jungkook smiled at you, brushing some hair back before he moved your shoulder a bit. "Hey, bunny?" He asked, and you nodded, humming a noise of yes, you heard him. He chuckled. "You'll have to get up baby. I have to prepare the couch for you." Typically, it would be normal to give a guest the bed- if he was being a gentleman. But that was what he was being; because his couch was the most comfortable thing in his entire apartment for that matter. Yet maybe it was the sleep inside your bones making you drowsy, but you shook your head. "Hm?" He asks, and you suddenly move.

You shuffle around, suddenly hugging him tightly, head hidden in his chest as you rub your nose against the soft fabric of his shirt for a moment. "Don't wanna." You complain, and he swears he dies and gets ressurected all at once seven times in total at your next words. "Wanna sleep with 'koo." You drawl, and he knows he should not let you. You're not thinking clearly- but he can't deny you anything when you're like this, it seems. You've got him wrapped around your little finger, tightly, with no chance of escape.

So he gently picks you up after turning off the TV, bringing you to his bedroom, where he puts you on the bed, your tired form struggling to stay seated. He picks out a shirt of his to wear, and a pair of your shorts out of your backpack Taehyung has left for you. "Sweetheart, can you change for me?" He asks, and you simply let yourself playfully fall ontop of his mattress, making him sigh. You're going to be the death of me. "Oh really now?" He says, before he crawls over you, with the intention to tickle you a little awake- but he stops in his tracks. In fact, time seems to stop as well, as your eyes stare at him, so big and full of wonder he almost can't stop himself from looking at your lips.

But its you who shyly- and so quickly he almost doesnt catch it- pecks his lips before sneakily slipping out his grasp, taking your clothes with you into the bathroom, leaving him on the bed. He sits down, touching his lips for a second, absolutely unsure if he'd just experienced this, or if he had just had a fever dream of some sorts.

It's only when he notices you don't emerge from the bathroom, that he moves. He gently knocks at the wooden door, asking for you, but you don't answer. "I'm gonna open the door, okay?" He says, and does so seconds after, spotting you sitting on the tiled floor- now dressed in his sweater and your shorts, ready for bed. He notices however how you're hiding in the sweater- the hood covering your ears, while your hands shield your face. "Whats wrong?" He asks as he squats down in front of you, his hands gently pulling yours away from your face. You're not crying, thank god, but the look on your face speaks entire novels about how embarrassed you feel.

"M'sorry." You say, and pout, and he shakes his head.

"Don't be." He simply answers, helping you stand up after a moment. "Why do you feel bad?" He asks, and you shrug your shoulders.

"I just.." You start, but suddenly your eyes grow glossy. "I miss Taehyung-" You say, and Jungkook's heart drops for a moment. "-but I also don't wanna go home tomorrow." You finish, and Jungkook blinks twice, before he looks at you, confused. You didn't want to leave? Him? "I.. no, it's fi-"

"Say it." He demands- its not harsh, its not even loud, its almost just a whisper, tuneless words pressed out in a breath of air. "Don't keep it in- say it." He prompts you, and you swallow, not looking at him.

"I wanna stay with you." You say.

And he swears, the pain in his heart was the sweetest he'd ever felt.

The next day, after breakfast, Jungkook and you sit on his living room floor, him teaching you how to build a rubber powered plane- the one's he used to make as a kid. He'd kept a kit in his apartment back when he moved out of his family home but never got around to really use it. It was the perfect opportunity for you to enjoy the things you had missed out on in your life. He loved the way you so intensely watching his every move as he showed you how to put the pieces together. "And that's gonna fly?" You ask curiously, leaning over a bit as to get a better look at it.

"Hmhm." He says, holding it up, before giving it to you. "Here, turn this part until you can't anymore." He says, and you start twisting it for a while. "Don't worry, you can't break it." He says when you hesitate a little. He highly doubts you'll be able to snap the rubber band. "Tight?" He asks, checking, before he nods, standing up. "Lets go fly it outside!" He says, opening the glass door to the small backyard of his apartment. "And- Go!" he says, and you throw it just how he showed you minutes prior; letting it fly for a good moment before it landed.

"It flew!" You exclaimed happily, and he laughed as well, congratulating you as if you had just won a competition. He held you tightly to his body for a moment after you had jumped into his arms- and that was how you just stood there for a moment, simply existing, holding each other. For you, this was a moment of realizing that no, you're not alone. You're not useless, you're not just a pet, you're not just existing for someone's enjoyment. You had this one person at your side now, someone you could count on, someone to make you feel safe. And for him? Weirdly enough, he felt like the male lead of a romantic drama show- finally getting the happy ending he always craved in his life. He never knew what exactly he always wanted from his time here on earth. Was it success? Was it money? A big apartment, a nice home, a lot of friends? No, it was building a blanket fort with you in his living room. It was going to the grocery store with you, protecting you from big dogs that scared you, or holding you during the night. Every cheesy romantic thing he could imagine, now always featured you in his head; and it just, fit. It fit perfectly.

You fit into his life just perfectly.

It's later that day when Taehyung picks you up that he realizes that yes, he's positively in love with you. Because how can he not fall in love with those glistening eyes, hand waving goodbye for now because of course he can't just keep you like he wants to. There's paperwork involved, and your things need to be moved to his place- all of that needing to wait for social services to check his home, so that they can make sure he's really the right fit for you. It's then that he finally lets everything sink in, finally lets him think about what's going to happen, whats going to change.

And for the first time, he couldn't wait for it. He couldn't wait for things to change.

Jungkook baked you a small cake for your welcoming into his home- finally yours as well, as you hug Taehyung for the last time, the older friend waving before the door closes, Jungkooks arms instantly pulling your back into his chest. He leans his head down, kissing your shoulder, before he runs his sensitive lips over the so unbelievably soft fur of your ears. Three weeks had passed, yet to him it had felt like an entire year. Jungkook was sometimes impatient, and waiting had been pure torture for him. So now, as he was finally able to hold you again, he felt his entire stress vaporize into nothingness.

You giggled, before turning around, hugging him fully, and rubbing your face into his sweater, as if to get your scent onto him. Which was exactly your plan- after all, he was your human now, officially yours, so everyone should know that. The rumble in his chest that was his chuckle made you smile widely, grinning as you looked up at him, chin resting on his chest.

Oh may god have mercy on his soul!

He leaned downwards, finally capturing your lips with his, the first real long kiss to be shared between the two of you. Both of you melted into the sweet gesture, your ears falling down lazily as he showered you in affection; kisses to your nose, your cheeks, and your lips again. He continued until the corners of your eyes gathered tears from laughing so much.

This was how you were supposed to be. You were never supposed to cry because you were upset-

the only tears you should ever have to shed, should be tears of happiness.

(c) Bonny-Kookoo. Please do not translate, re-post or claim as your own. Thank you for reading- and please stay happy and healthy.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions

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river-bottom-nightmare · 4 years ago

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Nightwing #80 Review

woot woot i’ve kept it up for three issues lets gooo. i liked this issue more than the last one. there’s a lot of fanon dick characterization peppered in, but not so much that it puts me off entirely. also, i’m getting increasingly concerned about bitewing. but i did like tim in this one, very nice

look at all the blue and purple and pink. honestly at this point, i’m a broken record but come on come on come onnnnnnn. the blue and pink is very pretty though. this cover’s a bit offputting at first, and a bit spiraly, which i’m sure was the intended effect.

this is a genuine concern of mine. dick’s a vigilante, and he doesn’t have the same sprawling network and resources that bruce does. (even if he is a billionaire now, he hasn’t amassed the same collection of crime-fighting equipment that bruce has.)

i’m not sure if he’ll be able to take care of bitewing. damian’s got plenty of pets, but alfred used to take care of them, and now bruce plus the rest of the batfam is taking care of them. as far as we know, babs only drops by occasionally, and the same goes for dick’s family and friends. will dick be able to give bitewing the love and time and affection that a traumatized puppy like her needs? i really hope so.

she does look adorable in this panel tho.

dick. richard. richie. baby. why are you shirtless.

you have scars upon scars. probably chemical burns. bullet wounds. weird fucking squiggly lines from knives that only psychos with blade fetishes use. no normal person has the body that you do. and you don’t think that showing up shirtless in front of the police is going to raise suspicion? you don’t think that the people accusing you of murder are going to look at someone who looks like they’re a fucking mob enforcer and go hmm that’s a bit suspicious?

put on a SHIRT jesus CHRIST it’s like you’re not even trying to hide your identity.

look at this pompous little princess demanding only the highest quality head pets i’d burn down latvia for her. (no offense latvians it was the first country that popped into my head.)

pretty boy pretty boy pretty boy pretty boy-

no seriously kudos to the artist here. his expression is so human i wanna cry. dick, right now, is sheepishly asking a question. he knows he’s not going to get into any real trouble, he knows that he’ll be able to talk his way out of or somehow maneuver his way off this mess. but he’ll play nice for the police, so he’s asking a friend for a favour, part self-condescendingly and part oh-well-what-can-you-do.

and his expression reflects that. rather than a stoic expressionless face most male comic characters have when asking someone for something (or all the time really), rather than the weird desperate supposedly “seductive” face that most female comic characters plus dick grayson have when asking someone for something (or all the time really), he’s making a face that i pulled like yesterday. or the day before that. it’s kind of silly, kind of casual, very much human. i like it.

thank god. proper (in character) acknowledgement for officer grayson. yea, fuck cops in general, but i like that they included this line.

obviously, he’s not talking about the actual criminals, he’s talking about the police force itself. the bpd was too corrupt, and dick realized that he wasn’t helping. not only does one clean cop not make a dent in an overall dirty force, but dick was putting his allies in danger too. not only that, but it wasn’t good for dick’s mental health either. he was spreading himself too thin, and surrounding himself with some of the worst of crime 24/7 did a number on him. dick’s got a history of self-sacrificing tendencies, and i’m just glad he’s not a cop anymore.

dick has a gotham rogues mug. they make gotham rogue mugs, and dick has one.

what kinda city looks at it’s frankly horrible crime history and long list of certifiably insane serial killers who are all still alive and actively committing war crimes and goes “oooooh yea imma put that on a coffee mug!” gotham, that’s who.

this isn’t important i just like how all of bitewing’s barks are blue

back straight, hand on his hip, cheerful smile on his face as he says he’s being accused for murder. love that for him.

they couldn’t have said “yea it’s complicated” in a better way even if they put the words “yea it’s complicated” right there on the page in bold red letters. literally all the love to the artists.

dick please. you’re KILLING ME what the actual fuck IS THAT???? WHY DO YOU HAVE A MUG OF THAT???

anyway nightwing collects novelty mugs confirmed.

this paneling is so beautiful.

tim’s the focus, but he’s not the first thing you see. he’s placed in a way that forces the reader to drag their eyes all the way up the page in order to reach him. it us know just how high up tim is carelessly crouching, especially close to the ledge of the building too. i cannot think of a single better way to introduce a character, and this character in particular: you instantly know this is a version of tim with plenty of experience and training, is comfortable in his body and knows his limits, but still hangs onto that civilian awe of being in a high place and overlooking a brightly lit city.

absolute classic robin. i love it.

this isn’t even that important but it made me happy. this is how you train surf.

you don’t crouch or bend over when you get to a tunnel, which is oddly enough what most people think (at least from my experience). you bend backward. that not only 100% ensures that you’ll make sure you’re low enough to make it through the tunnel (because you can see the top of the tunnel, unlike when you crouch or bend), but it also makes it easier to get up: all you have to do is push up with your arms into a bent stance, and you’ll be in a ready, moving position. from a bend or a crouch, getting up is more awkward and more slow.

on a meta level, i like that this creative team knows what they’re doing when it comes to the small, almost unimportant stuff like that, because it makes the action more real. (as real as you can get with a guy running around stealing hearts.)

on a in-universe level, it once again drives home both dick and tim’s experience and professional level skill.

regardless of who you side with in the “should tim drake be robin again?” debate, you gotta admit that tim’s rebirth robin suit is r a d as fuck. if i’m not mistaken, this is the same one he was wearing in 2019 young justice for a little bit? it’s cute and hella cool i like it.

remember what i said about human expressions? doesn’t happen as often to tim bc he’s a Child, but it’s still nice to note when someone humanizes him, too. (that’s why i love the duckboy panel so much lol.)

me, at first: that’s not a “good call” dick that’s just common sense

me, now: sprinkled throughout the entire comic we can see dick bending to tim’s instructions if only briefly, joking with him to keep the mood light while still maintaining a serious mood and retaining control over this particular outing. this implies that dick’s doing it intentionally, purposefully leaving places in his sentences blank and offering affirmations, in order to encourage tim and train him in things bruce might not necessarily touch on, such as social chameleoning and misdirection techniques and love/affirmation from a family member. dick is not only a loving and supportive big brother, but he never stops training his younger brother in better vigilante tecnhiques because he wants tim to be better than him. in this essay i will-

d o g g o

also bitewing is getting so many head pats today i’m living for it

look at him, standing on a telephone wire with ease. nice flex, dick.

also look at how he’s silhouetted. the moon’s full bright, bright enough that the sky around dick is light, too. (at least. i’m like 99% sure that’s the moon.) not like most batman comics, where it’s sometimes hard to distinguish bruce from the background, which is entirely on purpose.

gotham is a dark gritty city, and so is bruce. the two of them are one. bludhaven may be a bit of a mess, but it’s being portrayed in all these different shades of blue and purple and pink, that are all light enough that dick stands out from the background. he hasn’t been swallowed up by the city, and chances are that he won’t ever be. also, the colouring helps establish bludhaven as a city too. there’s still hope for it. the light colouring means that it’s not going to sink into a pit as deep as the one bruce wove gotham into. the whole point of this nightwing arc in particular is to turn bludhaven into a better place, and it’s (most likely) letting us know early on that dick is going to accomplish that. he’ll struggle, but he’ll do it.

so dick??? dick designed his escrima sticks with a situation like this in mind? he created his signature and most iconic weapon (other than his chatty mouth), with a built in feature that turns his escrima sticks into tim’s signature and most iconic weapon???? just so that if he and tim ever got into a situation where tim didn’t have his staff, dick could make sure tim had the thing that would give him an edge over anyone he was fighting??? he’s such a big brother oh my goddd.

also tim’s smirk in this is just *chef kiss.* a staff is something he can work with, a staff is something he wields like an extension of his arm, a staff is means that someone’s about to get their ass kicked because tim’s about to beat the shit outta them.

this is my new phone background.

they really made sure we remembered that hey, those first few months when bruce was grieving too much to be any sort of a mentor to tim and was still unwilling to properly train him to be robin out of fear that he would end up like jason, dick was the one who stepped up (once he got over himself and his own fears and hangups with bruce) and trained tim to be robin, trained him how to fight and flip and fuckin fly out there, all while changing his own style a bit to be the more experienced one in the partnership while still trusting said partner to hold their own, so dick and tim have a very unique and cohesive fighting style that makes it hell for anyone who fights them together, didn’t they?

#river thinks too hard #nightwing 80 #nightwing 80 spoilers #nightwing #dick grayson #tim drake #red robin #robin #nightwing 80 meta #nightwing meta #dick grayson meta #tim drake meta #red robin meta #robin meta #dc meta #dc

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americasass91 · 4 years ago

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His Kind of Beautiful

Hello lovely people! I don’t even know where to begin here. My ex popped up as a friend I may know on Facebook the other day. Of course it brought up all these memories. (I’ve been with my husband for over a decade so this ex was from way back when.) Anyways, I couldn’t help but think back to when and why we broke up. We worked together (that was a mistake) and I was chatting with one of our coworkers. The guy looked at me and was like ‘I don’t want to get in the middle of anything but your boyfriend said something about you the other day and it bothered me.’ I told him to tell me what he said. ‘He said you weren’t pretty enough to blow him.’ (Fun fact! I had already blown him a few times by this point.) So of course I thought my life was ruined. I mean I was only 17/18. I called him right away and asked him if it was true. The fucker didn’t even deny it! He was like I was just joking around. So I told him since I wasn’t pretty enough to blow him, I wasn’t pretty enough to date him either. That’s the last time I spoke to him.

Anyways! That’s what inspired this little fic. I know we all go through days where we don’t feel pretty or beautiful. But you know what? We are all beautiful no matter what! Please if you ever feel less than that and need to talk, I am here and willing to listen! Nobody should go through life feeling anything less than beautiful.

So I knew I needed to somehow incorporate this into a fic. At first I was going to go with Steve but I took a look at my Masterlist and realized I only had one Andy fic on there. That’s just despicable! So without any further ado, please enjoy this fic with our lovely, handsome floofy haired lawyer daddy!

Rating: Explicit (Like I could write something that doesn’t involve sex with Andrew)

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: Language, fingering, unprotected sex(Remember: Sex is cleaner with a packaged weiner), and just Andy being fluffy

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You honestly didn’t even know why you had agreed to this. You hated first dates in general, let alone a blind date.

But your friend, Jane, assured you this guy was handsome and nice and worth your time to go out with.

So, you pulled a blue dress from your closet that you’d only worn maybe twice in your life and actually did your eye makeup.

After getting fully ready you take one last look at yourself in the mirror. For once you didn’t hate the woman staring back at you. This dress happened to accentuate your curves and the color of your eyeshadow made your eyes pop. You wouldn’t necessarily say you were pretty, but you looked decent.

You slip on your heels and grab your purse and head out of your apartment. As you go to lock your door, the apartment door behind you opens.

“Good evening, neighbor.”

You turn around with a smile on your face and return the greeting to your sinfully handsome neighbor, Andy.

He can’t help but notice how pretty you look. “Where are you going all dressed up?”

You blush and start heading towards the elevator together. “Oh, my friend set me up on a blind date. I’m nervous. Haven’t been on a date in awhile.”

He presses the button for the lobby. “Blind date, huh? Yeah I went on one of those recently. First date since the divorce. It was...interesting.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as you both headed into the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby. You turn towards him. “Interesting, how?”

“Well, for starters, she was almost an hour late. Then when she showed up, she didn’t even apologize for being late. She just sat down and demanded the waiter bring her a cocktail. By snapping her fingers at him.”

The elevator doors open. You head into the lobby and notice Andy following you. “So I think it’s safe to say you aren’t calling her for a second date?” He opens the door to the outside for you. You smile in thanks and head out into the warm evening air of Boston.

He rolls his eyes as he follows you onto the street and hails down a cab. “Absolutely not.” He gestures for you to take the cab.

You look at him confused. “Don’t you need one?”

He waves you off. “Nah, I’m heading to pick up Jake to take him to dinner. He finally found some time to fit his old man into his ‘busy’ teenager schedule.” He heads towards his Audi you now realize is parked in front of the building right behind your cab.

You scoff at him as you open the cab door. “Old man? Oh, please. You can’t be more than what? 38?”

He opens the door to his own vehicle and smirks at you. “Try 43, sweetheart. Hey! Good luck on your date!” He waves and gets into his car. You return the wave and get into the cab and give the driver the address to the restaurant and try to get your mind off of how good Andy’s ass looked in the jeans he was wearing.

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You arrived at the restaurant with a few minutes to spare. You wanted to get there a little early so you could get a drink from the bar and calm your nerves.

You find a seat away from the other patrons and order a glass of wine. You scan your eyes over the room to see if your date has arrived yet. You weren’t entirely sure what he looked like but you knew he was going to be wearing a red shirt.

The bartender sets your wine in front of you. You hand over a 10 dollar bill and tell him to keep the change. As you sip your wine, you check your phone for the time. 7:02. You’re about ready to text your friend to ask if your date is normally late when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

You turn around and look up at who you assume to be your date for the evening. He was handsome. Not as handsome as Andy, but handsome enough.

He gives you a small smile. “Hi, are you Y/N?”

You nod your head with a smile. “Yes, hi! It’s nice to meet you. You must be Jason?” You then gesture to the seat next to you. “Would you like to have a drink before we get a table?”

He nods once and takes a seat next to you and flags down the bartender to order a scotch.

The bartender sets the drink in front of him. Jason thanks him and pays for his drink.

You can feel the awkwardness start to creep in. And when that happens, you tend to get chatty.

“So, what do you do for a living?” You smile hoping to ease the tension building.

He turns to look you up and down. And not subtly. He shakes his head in disapproval and downs his drink before standing up. “Listen, I’m sorry but I can’t do this. Jane lied to me.”

You can’t help the confused look that crosses your face. “She lied to you? How?”

He gives you another not so subtle once over. “She told me you were beautiful. And no offense, but I just don’t see it.”

You can’t help the jaw drop. Sure you knew you weren’t gorgeous but damn. You’d never had a man be bold enough to actually say it to your face. “So, you’re just gonna leave? Not even give me a chance because I’m not your version of beautiful?”

He scoffs and checks out a girl that walks by the two of you. “What can I say? I’ve got standards that you just don’t meet.”

You feel like you’ve just been punched in the gut. That’s it. You’re fucking done. You reach behind you and grab your wine glass and throw the drink in his face.

You grab your purse and head towards the door. You turn back to face him. “I may not meet your ‘beauty standards’ but at least I’m not an asshole!” With that you flip him off and head outside to hail a cab to head back home.

You manage to make it almost all the way home before the tears start to fall. Sure he was a stranger and his opinion didn’t matter. But it still fucking hurt that he didn’t want you and didn’t even think you were pretty enough to share a meal with. Your self esteem already sucked and this asshole sure as hell didn’t make it any better.

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The blue dress goes in the trash as soon as you step into your apartment. You take off your nice lace bra you had put on. You take your makeup off with a wipe and pull your hair up in a ponytail. You throw on some hello kitty pajama shorts and a t- shirt that’s at least 2 sizes too big for you.

Then you head into your kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine from a bottle you keep in the fridge for emergencies. You think this classifies as one.

You grab your phone off the counter and call your favorite Chinese place. You order double what you normally do because nobody wants to sleep with you. Might as well eat whatever the fuck you wanted. God, you can’t believe you shaved your legs for that asshole.

The lady on the phone lets you know it’ll be at least an hour. You give her your card number and thank her before refilling your now empty glass.

As you’re sitting on the couch waiting for your food, you can’t help but replay the events of the evening. Then that takes you into a downward spiral as you think back to all of your exes.

Come to think of it, they’ve all left you for one reason or another. A majority of them cheated with someone way prettier than you. Wow, maybe you were the problem. Clearly you were going for guys out of your league.

Maybe you needed to reevaluate the standards you had. Which quite frankly, wasn’t much. You just wanted them to not be a serial killer.

Perhaps you should just give up on dating. You were perfectly happy alone. Maybe that’s how it was supposed to be for you.

Before your thoughts could spiral anymore, your doorbell rang. You glance at your phone. Damn that hour flew by.

You grab $10 out of your purse for a tip and open your door. As you’re grabbing the bags and thanking the delivery guy, Andy steps out of the elevator with confusion written all over his face. “Hey, Y/N. Thought you had a date?”

You could almost feel the tears trying to well up again. No, you weren’t going to cry. Especially in front of your handsome neighbor.

“Yeah, it uh, didn’t work out. Shit happens.”

He puts his key in the lock and opens his door then turns to look at you. “Not your type?”

You can’t help the rush of air that leaves your mouth. “Not exactly. I wasn’t his. Apparently Jane, our mutual friend, told him I was beautiful and well. He didn’t agree with her.”

Andy furrows his brows and cocks his head to the side. “What? Was he blind or something?”

You shake your head. “Nope. I just wasn’t up to his standards.”

Andy mumbles something under his breath. “Well, I’m sorry. Some guys can be real assholes.”

You wave him off. “No need to apologize. I get that I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.”

Andy shakes his head. “Still, I’m sorry. That really sucks. And he really said you weren’t beautiful to your face?”

You give him a sad smile and shrug your shoulders. “It’s okay, really. I’m used to not being wanted. Have a nice night, Andy.”

You turn and head back into your apartment before he has a chance to reply. You don’t need his pity. You just need to drown yourself in the rest of your wine and gorge yourself on the greasy Chinese.

Just as you set the food down on the counter, you hear a knock at your door.

Confused, you head over and open it to find Andy standing there. And he looks kinda pissed.

“What do you mean you’re used to not being wanted?”

You sigh and put your hands on your hips. “It’s not the first time some guy hasn’t wanted me and it won’t be the last.”

Andy shakes his head as he pushes his way inside and shuts the door with his foot. “There’s just something I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “And what’s that?”

He then proceeds to walk closer to you, forcing you backwards until your back touches the wall. He puts his hands on either side of your head and gazes down at you. You’ve never been this close to him before. You can feel his chest move against yours as he breathes. You can feel the heat radiating off of him.God, he smells good. You realize you’re not breathing and take a deep breath. He smiles down at you and takes his left hand to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear that had fallen free from your ponytail.

“That some moron would think that you’re not beautiful. He’s fuckin crazy, Y/N.”

Your breath hitches as his left hand has now grabbed the back of your neck to raise your lips towards his. You close your eyes, waiting for the inevitable kiss. “I guess I’m just not everyone’s kind of beautiful.”

He leans in, just barely brushing his lips against yours. “You’re my kind of beautiful.”

WIth that, he presses his lips to yours for a slow but intense kiss. You can’t help the moan that escapes your mouth. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him all the way up against you. He grunts when his hardening cock comes into contact with your soft belly.

After a few minutes of intense kisses that take your breath away, he pulls back and presses his forehead against yours. “Will you let me show you how beautiful I think you are?”

You don’t even need to think about it. “Yes, please.”

He smiles and leans in for one more quick kiss. “Take me to the bedroom, pretty girl.”

You quickly grab his hand and lead him down the hall towards your bedroom, making a quick stop in the kitchen to throw the Chinese food in the fridge.

Once in your room Andy spins you around and presses your back up against his front. He leans forward and starts placing soft kisses against your neck. His left hand rests at your waist while his right hand moves up under your shirt towards your breasts. “Is this okay, pretty girl?” His voice is so low and husky. Your panties didn’t even stand a chance.

You nod. “Yes, please. Touch me, Andy.”

He groans a little and reaches up to cup your right breast in his hand. You hear him let out a growl as he continues to fondle your breast. While his left hand makes its way into your shorts, brushing his finger over your clit. You jolt forward at the sensation, whimpering out in the process.

“You like that, pretty girl? Like my fingers on your little cunt?”

You grab a hold of his wrist and writhe against him as he lowers his fingers towards your entrance. He gathers your slick up before moving his fingers back towards your clit and starts slowly circling it.

“Fuck, Andy. Feels so good.”

“Yeah? You want my fingers inside you, baby?”

You quickly nod. “Please. Need to feel you.”

He lowers his hand back down to your entrance and slowly slides his middle finger against your walls. You arch your back and moan out his name as he starts pumping it slowly.

“Fuck, Y/N. You’re so tight. When’s the last time you’ve been touched, pretty girl?”

“Too long. Feels so good. I need more. Please.”

His index finger quickly joins the middle one. He starts pumping them in and out of you quicker, curling them just right so they rub up against your g spot. “Oh, fuck!” You can’t help but yell out at the feeling. It’s been so long since someone’s taken the time to pleasure you, let alone find your g spot. You could feel the coil tightening already. You were embarrassingly close and he hadn’t even really started yet.

“You gonna cum for me already, pretty girl? Do it. Make a mess on my fingers.”

He moves his thumb and starts circling your clit. Your legs start shaking. He presses his thumb down just a little harder and you’re gone. You cum with a shout of Andy’s name into the otherwise empty room.

He continues pumping his fingers in and out but removes his thumb from your clit, not wanting to overstimulate you too much. “Good girl. So fuckin’ pretty when you cum.”

You lower your head in embarrassment. He spins you around and places his finger under your chin so he can raise your head so you’re looking at him. “Don’t hide from me, pretty girl. I want to see everything.” He takes his left hand and raises it to his mouth, sucking your essence off of his fingers. He moans into his hand. “You taste so fucking sweet. Knew you would.”

He grabs your face to pull you in for a sweet kiss as he slowly pushes you towards the bed. The back of your knees touch your mattress before he pulls away. He smiles down at you as he grabs the hem of your shirt and pulls it up and off, tossing it somewhere in the room. His gaze then falls to your breasts. He licks his lips hungrily. Before he can get too caught up, he hooks his thumbs into your shorts and pulls them and your panties down and off your legs, helping you step out of them.

He stands back up and pulls you in for another kiss, your hands fall to his chest. You start to unbutton his shirt, revealing his chest to you a little at a time. You pull away to get the last few buttons and push his shirt over his shoulders and are surprised to see his chest and abdomen sprinkled with various tattoos. You never would’ve guessed. You can’t help but let your hand trace over a quote on his collarbone or onto the eagle covering his pec.

“I never would have pegged you for a tattoo guy. These are amazing.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I only have them where they can be covered up by clothes.” He grabs your wrists to stop your tracing. “You can trace all of them some other time, pretty girl. Right now, I need to be inside of you.”

You can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine at his words. His dirty talk was going to be the death of you.

He moves his hands towards his belt buckle and starts undoing it. You couldn’t help but notice the slight tremble to his hands. You place your hands on top of his and look at his face. “Hey, if you don’t want to do this, that’s ok.”

He looks into your eyes and gives you a shy smile. “No, I want to. God, do I want to. It’s just, I haven’t been with anyone since Laurie and I guess I’m a little nervous.”

You couldn’t help the pull you felt at your heart at his words. He was nervous. Thank god. So were you. This beautiful man wanted to sleep with you, of course you were nervous. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m nervous too. You’re kind of intimidating.”

He cocks his head to the side and furrows his brows. “Intimidating? Why is that?”

You remove your hands from his and gesture up and down his body. “Just look at you. You’re breathtaking, Andy. And I’m just me.” Your gaze falls down to your feet, unable to look at him.

He puts his finger under your chin and raises your head so that you’re forced to look at him. “Speak for yourself, pretty girl. You’re the breathtaking one.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Yeah, right.”

His gaze on you hardens just a little. He grabs your hand and places it over his pants against his erection. “Do you feel that? Feel what you do to me? Nobody but you can make me this hard, pretty girl. I’ve been in a constant state of arousal since I moved in, watching you coming in and out of your apartment in your tight skirts and almost see-through blouses. Making me go fuckin’ crazy.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything or make a move then?” Of course your self doubt was starting to creep in. Maybe this was him just wanting to get his dick wet. You needed to know.

He grabs your hands and brings your knuckles to his mouth, giving them a soft kiss. “Honestly? I thought there was no way in hell an old man like me would have a shot with a sweet thing like you.”

You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your mouth. “Please. You’re only 43.”

He pulls you in for a sweet, lingering kiss. “Yeah, well. Probably too old for you. But after what you said to me, about how you’re used to not being wanted? I stopped caring how old I was. I needed to show you just exactly how much you’re wanted. So, can I still show you, pretty girl?”

You quickly nod your head and help him finish removing his pants, leaving him in just his black briefs. The fabric doing nothing to hide the outline of his hard cock. Jesus. He looked big. Bigger than anything you’ve taken. You couldn’t wait.

You quickly pulled his briefs over his hips and down his legs. His cock sprang free and smacked against his inked abdomen, making him hiss. You grab him at the base and slowly start pumping him, looking at his face for his reaction. His head is thrown back and his eyes are closed as he moans out your name at the feeling. His hands are gripping your hips.

You smear his precum that’s gathered at the tip and use that to help jerk him off a little faster. You tighten your grip as you pick up your pace, loving the sounds you're pulling from him. You start to go on your knees when he suddenly pulls you back up. You look at him in confusion. “If I let you continue, this will be over before it even starts. Gonna make me blow my load like an inexperienced teenager.”

You couldn’t help but feel proud of yourself but once again furrow your brows as Andy walks to the other side of the bed. He starts looking around in your nightstand. “Do you have any condoms?”

You shake your head. “I did but they expired. If you’re okay with it, I’m on birth control. And I got tested after my last partner and I’m clean.”

He pushes the drawer to the nightstand back in and climbs onto the bed and lays on his back, hand lazily stroking his cock. “I’m more than okay with that. I just had a full work up done. I’m healthy as well.”

You barely acknowledge what he said, unable to remove your eyes from his hand that’s wrapped around his cock. You pull your bottom lip in between your teeth and let out a little whimper. Andy chuckles at you. “Well, are you going to just stare at it, pretty girl? Or are you going to hop on my lap and get comfy?”

That gets your attention. You meet his gaze. “You want me on top?”

He nods. “Wanna be able to see all of you, baby girl.” He removes his hand from his cock and pats his thigh. “Come on, pretty girl. Ride me.”

Well that sight just caused a new wave of arousal to pool at your core. You had only been on top once before and it was only for a short time.

You place your knees gently on the bed and crawl the short way to him. You swing your left leg over him so that you're sitting right above where he wants you. You thread your hands through his hair and lean down for a heated kiss. You lick his bottom lip, wanting in. He doesn’t even hesitate to open his mouth to let you in.

He places his left hand on your hip while the other grabs his cock. He pushes your body down so that you’re hovering over it. “Please. Fuck me, pretty girl.”

You keep your lips attached to his as you slowly sink down on him. You get about halfway before you stop and pull away to look at him, trying to slow down your breathing. He brings his right hand up to cup your cheek. “You ok? Do you wanna stop?” The quick shake of your head makes him chuckle. “No, god no. I just need a minute. You’re fucking huge Andy.”

He can’t help the cocky smirk that appears. “Yeah, I know. Just take all the time you need.” He rubs his hand up and down your back to help calm you down. It only takes you a few more seconds before you continue to impale yourself on his impressive dick.

You let out a breath of relief when your hips settle flush against his. He grabs the back of your head and pulls you in for another kiss. You slowly start rocking your hips against him. He feels fucking incredible. Hitting all the right spots inside of you.

You pull away from the kiss and raise up a little and plant your hands on your headboard for some leverage. The rock of your hips speed up significantly. You move all the way up until his tip is barely inside before you slam yourself back down against him. You’re pulling the most beautiful sounds from his lips. It makes you move that much faster and harder against him.

Andy moves his hands to your breasts and gives them a good squeeze. Then he starts pinching your nipples, eliciting a moan from you. “That’s it, baby girl. Doing so good. You look so gorgeous fuckin’ yourself on my cock. Goddamn. Riding me so well.”

The praise he’s giving you just spurs you on. You raise up even more and place your hands on his chest and pick up your pace just a little more. You can feel the coil tightening in your belly. You’re going to cum and hard.

Andy keeps his left hand on your breast and keeps pinching your nipple. He moves his right hand down until his thumb is pressing against your clit, giving you the friction you needed. “Can feel you squeezing me, pretty girl. Cum for me. Make a mess.”

He presses his thumb just a little harder and that’s all it takes. You free fall over the edge of bliss with a scream of Andy’s name, your hips faltering from their rhythm.

You slow down your pace as you come down from your high, collapsing against Andy’s chest. He cradles you in his arms and rubs his hands up and down your back. “Still with me, sweet girl?”

You weakly nod your head and take just a second to catch your breath. It takes you a moment to realize he didn’t finish. You raise your head off his chest to look at him. “Why didn’t you cum?”

He smiles and pulls you in for a sweet kiss. “Oh, I will. Don’t worry. Just wanted to watch you fall apart on top of me. And let me just say, it’s one of the prettiest sights I’ve ever seen. You look gorgeous when you cum, Y/N. Almost made me lose it. Think you can take some more?”

You nod your head eagerly, already wanting to cum around his cock again. “Then why don’t you be a good girl and turn around and get on your hands and knees for me?”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You quickly pull off of him and turn around to get on your hands and knees. He takes a second to admire the view of your once again dripping pussy before he gets up on his knees behind you. He grabs a hold of your ass and gives it a hard squeeze. “Such a nice ass. I bet it’ll jiggle real nice while I’m fuckin’ you.”

He grabs a hold of the base of his cock and moves it towards your entrance. Before he starts pushing in, he gives your right cheek a hard smack. You drop down onto your elbows and moan into the sheets below you. Fuck. You didn’t know you liked that. He places his right hand on your hip and squeezes.

“Hmm. We’ll have to revisit that later.” And that’s the last thing he says before he slams home. You arch your back and fist the sheets as he sets a hard and fast pace.

And boy was he right. Your ass does jiggle nicely with every snap of his hips against it. He threads his left hand through your hair and gives it a tug. It makes you clench around him. “Fuck, baby girl. Keep squeezing me like that and I’m not going to last long.”

You move your head to the side and peer back at him. You clench around him again and it earns you another groan and smack to your ass. “Want you to cum for me, Andy. Please. Fill me up.”

He stills for just a second and wraps his left arm around your chest and lifts you up until your back is flush against his chest. This time he keeps his thrusts nice and slow. He places a kiss to the side of your neck. “Yeah? Want me to fill that pussy up, huh? To claim you as mine?”

You let a whimper escape your lips and you grip onto his arm that’s holding you against him as he starts picking up the pace of his thrusts. You clench around him again. “I am yours, Andy.”

He quickly moves his right hand down and starts circling your clit. “Fuck, Y/N. You’re gonna make me cum. Cum with me, please.”

You start pushing back and meeting his thrusts, desperate to get him to his release.

It only takes a few more snaps of his hips and circles against your clit before you're both falling over the edge while moaning out the other's name.

He continues pumping his hips until he’s completely spent and gently moves to lay the both of you onto your sides, basking in the afterglow of your orgasms.

He slowly pulls out of you and turns you around so that you’re facing him. He tucks your now loose hair behind your ear. “Hi, there.”

You chuckle and move up against him and press your face into the crook of his neck. “Hello.” You place a gentle kiss to his pulse point and relax as he wraps his arms around you.

There’s only a few minutes of peaceful silence when:

“So, was that good for you?”

You pull away and look up at him with an incredulous look on your face and smack his shoulder. You both start laughing.

“Of course it was good for me. Did you enjoy yourself, Andrew?”

He pulls you in for another sweet kiss. “Oh, yeah. But you know. Just to be sure. We might need to do it again.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you. It only makes you laugh once more.

“You are such a dork. How about we get a shower and then heat up the food you so rudely interrupted me from eating before?”

His jaw drops in mock hurt. “You weren’t complaining when I was making you come around my cock, pretty girl.”

You sit up and stretch your arms over your head. You swing your legs over the side and stand up, wobbling just a little. You hear a chuckle behind you and playfully send a glare his way as you make your way to the bathroom.

You turn on the light and can’t help but look at your reflection in the mirror.

Your hair is a hot mess, having fallen out of it’s ponytail. Your lips were swollen and red from all the kissing. Your nipples looked slightly red from all pinching they had been subjected to. Your skin flushed from the orgasms. And there was what looked like a bruise forming on your hip in the shape of his hand.

And yet. You’ve never felt more beautiful.

You see Andy walking up behind you in the mirror. He smiles at you.

You turn around and return it before throwing your arms around his neck and raising yourself up on your toes to pull him in for a kiss. He gladly wraps his arms around you and reciprocates.

You pull away with a smile still attached to your face. “Not that I mind, pretty girl. But, what was that for?”

You shrug. “Just thank you. For making me feel beautiful.”

He smiles down at you and pulls you in for another quick kiss. You can feel him hardening once again against your hip. “Why don’t we skip the shower for now? I’m not quite finished with you yet.”

And with that he pulls you back into the bedroom where he spends the rest of the night showing you that you’re his kind of beautiful.

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