#in 20 years it’s got to be something you can’t bring up at the dinner table without being shouted down

[daisyachain]

It’s been read into the record that the US Army committed egregious civilian massacres in Vietnam, killed an estimated 100-500 thousand civilians in total in Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos, caused thousands more poisonings, birth defects, and related deaths in the Agent Orange ecocide. Vietnam is considered by most residents of developed countries to be an unfortunate policy bungle in which US soldiers suffered trauma.

This is not counting massacres by allied forces. It is unsealed public knowledge that the United States either installed or propped up military dictatorships in a majority of Latin American countries and Indonesia, which engaged in political killings. The United States backed the governments which carried out the genocide of the Maya. US interventions in Latin America are considered by most residents of developed countries to consist of a heroic opposition to Cuban dictatorship, where they are considered at all. Indonesia does not exist.

The word ‘genocide’ was coined to describe the Armenian genocide. Descendants of Armenian survivors have risen to prominence in US pop culture (Cher, System of a Down). Armenians have suffered crimes, military aggression, and civilian killings by Azerbaijani and allied forces multiple times within the past five years. The US government recognized the Armenian genocide for the first time in 2019. The United Nations organized COP29 in Baku with no formal dissent or objection from developed countries, and I’ve seen accounts on here with my own eyes praising the current Turkish government (more of a case of ‘you do not under any circumstances have to hand it to a far-right nationalist regime because they’re geopolitically opposed to Israel’s far-right nationalist regime’). Most residents of developed countries couldn’t point to the Caucasus on a map.

These atrocities and many, many more are cases of factual unarguable history that have been acknowledged by hegemonic governments. There is no public or intellectual debate on the fact of the Armenian genocide, American installation of Pinochet, the My Lai massacre. It’s gone down in history.

It’s also true that the average resident, even the average sensible political moderate in the suite of developed countries has an understanding of the world that denies or excludes these facts. Tumblr fandom blogs will share a video of Erdogan if he’s saying something politically convenient, a mildly left-wing guy will disbelieve me when I mention the Pinochet thing until I make him look it up on friggin Wikipedia, there are 2 Vietnam War films focusing on heroic American characters released in or after Anno Domini 2020. One of which is by a solidly progressive director.

I’ve seen the sentiment frequently that history will show the Israeli genocide as the most vicious, cruel, inhuman assault on humanity since the turn of the millennium. That is true. It will show as fact, records will be unsealed, media distortions will die down. Already, internal Israeli news sources Haaretz and +972 have disproven many of the claims used by the US government as an excuse to dismember children on the basis of ethnicity.

At the same time, I think that there’s a lot of evidence that factual atrocities will be ignored by the liberal hegemony as long as they’re inconvenient. The Shoah is remembered as a tragedy in part because it fits into a narrative that portrays the US as a morally just world power. Universally acknowledged genocides mass killings have little to no impact on the memories or politics of ‘normal people’ in developed countries. Most people don’t know that the UAE is currently playing a key role in the decimation of Sudan’s population and most people, if they ever did find out, would not see any reason for the US to use its economic leverage to have any impact on the UAE at all.

The record does and will show that Israel is guilty of genocide. It will go away sooner or later because of the efforts of Palestinians and allies to free Palestine from occupation, apartheid, and genocide. I don’t think that anyone who cheered on genocide will be aware of any of this, reflect on any of it, or do anything at all make up for the people they’ve killed. Vindication by history might not change them at all. Which is why it makes sense to keep bringing up the Palestinian genocide in all contexts whether ‘appropriate’ or not, because all historical evidence shows that it will be swept under the rug, forgotten, or misremembered if it doesn’t remain a conversational landmine forever

[fettuccin-e]

Something Bad

Kinktober Day 20: Corruption

Tags: Joel Miller x Reader, afab!fem!reader, blowjob, face-fucking (do NOT look at me rn), corruption, slightly innocent!reader, age gap mention, Joel is simply not prepared for how filthy his girl is (w/c: 1.4K)

A/N: I believe in filthy old man Joel and younger even filthier girl okay!!! This may have gotten a little out of hand but idk I can't help but ramble about sucking Joel's dick alright?? (I have been using these prompts by flightlessangelwings for Kinktober!)

Joel Miller is a bad man. A bad fuckin’ man.

He knows it, has known it for years. He has too much blood on his hands, too many skeletons in his closet, to be a good man.

But fuck, this has got to be the worst. 

You’re supposed to be off-limits, the pretty little nurse that floats around Jackson, tending to the sick and injured. You, the sweet little thing who's never seen the outside of the town walls, who wears pretty dresses you make yourself and brings fucking baked goods to the patrol groups after they get back.

You, who asks him how he’s been, who traces a gentle hand down his forearm, sending goosebumps across his body. You, thirty fuckin’ years younger than him, and so angelic you practically glow.

You, on your knees on his kitchen floor, sucking his dick like you’re fucking starving for it.

You’d started off so delicate, so innocent, when he’d started this... thing with you. This dirty, nasty secret he has to keep from his own brother, from the entire town.

It had started with a gentle kiss when you’d patched him up after a patrol gone wrong. You’d fashioned a bandage over his chest, and God, when you looked up at him with those pretty doe eyes, he was a fuckin’ goner. He wasn’t sure who moved first, you or him, all he had known was that your lips against his were soft. So soft, softer than anything he’d experienced in twenty fucking years.

“Don’t know how to do this,” you’d breathed against his mouth, your fingers clutching into his shirt, “just know that I want you.”

Joel pulled back, looking down at you with a hard gaze, ready to pull back, tell you this was a mistake, “Darlin’-”

“I know you want me too, Joel,” you’d said, firmer than he’d ever thought you could be. “I just need-” you’d stuttered, and leaned your forehead against his as you collected yourself, “I just need you to teach me.”

It had spiraled from there. 

He’d tried to be gentle with you, but fuck, it’s so hard when you’re so soft beneath him, whining his name and tangling your fingers in his hair. You’d been so nervous the first few times you’d done this, nervous enough that Joel had pulled back, night after night, just to make sure you were still alright with him seeing you like this.

“You can say no anytime you want, sweet girl,” he’d mutter, “I won’t mind.”

But you’d always shake your head, eager to learn, eager to please. And fuck, Joel can’t help it when he fucks his fingers into you a little too hard, treats you a little too rough. He’d a bad fuckin’ man, God, he shouldn’t even be near you.

When you’d both started this, you’d been quiet and uncertain about what you wanted, leaving Joel to ease it out of you with soft touches across your body and licks of his tongue into your mouth.

Now, though. Now Joel thinks he’s made a fuckin’ monster.

You crave him in ways he’d never thought you capable of, dragging him to your bedroom when he gets home and stripping him down before he’s had a chance to say hello. You beg him to fuck you, use you, anytime he wants.

“Need it Joel,” you’ll whisper, pulling him with you. “Fuck, I’ve been thinking about it all day.” 

You don’t even make it to the bedroom today. No, you corner him while he’s making dinner for you both, turning him until his back is pressed against the counter. You look at him with those pretty, pretty eyes, warm and gorgeous and calling to him like a goddamn siren, as you sink to your knees.

“Sweetheart, you can’t-” he stutters over his words like a virgin, and all you do is look up at him as you unbutton his jeans, pull his fly open and free his cock. It’s fucking sinful, the way it looks huge next to your pretty little mouth, the way you press it against your cheek, looking up at him with all of the fucking innocence he’s taken from you.

“What Joel?” You coo, pressing gentle kisses up his shaft before sucking the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it for one horrible, maddening moment, before pulling back again. “You don’t want me to suck your cock?” 

Joel is going to fucking die here, in this kitchen, if you keep talking like that, keep licking at his cock and looking at him like that from the floor. “Darlin’, fuck ‘course I want you, but fuck, not here. We can go to bed-”

“Too far,” you whine, and Joel doesn’t have a chance to fucking breathe before you’re sucking his cock into your mouth, bobbing down as far as you can before he hits the back of your throat, and motherfucking Christ, that’s it, he’s going to die.

You suck his cock like a goddamn pro, like you hadn’t just learned to do this a few months ago. And Joel should feel bad, he should feel some modicum of guilt for making this pretty, innocent nurse into such a filthy little thing, but he can’t bring himself to when it feels so good. So fucking hot and wet, and your fingers digging into his thighs over his jeans.

“God damn it, baby,” he grunts when you hollow your cheeks, making it that much tighter and his head is spinning, fuck, he must be losing it. You fucking smile around his cock, bobbing deeper, pumping the part of his cock that can’t fit in your mouth with a slick hand. “Suckin’ me so good, that’s so fuckin’ perfect, shit-”

His hips twitch uncontrollably, shoving his cock far, too far down your throat. You choke, pulling off of him immediately, pumping him in your hand as you gasp for breath. And Joel fears he’ll pass out when a line of spit connects the tip of his cock to your bottom lip. “Shit, sorry, sweetheart-” he grunts, but you only smile up at him, pumping him quick and so overwhelmingly perfect. Joel’s knees threaten to start shaking.

“You can fuck my mouth, Joel,” you say, blinking up at him slowly, sweetly. “I promise I don’t mind.”

Joel’s vision blurs at the edges, and he sucks in a labored breath through clenched teeth as you suck him into your mouth all over again. Your hands wrap around his wrists, tugging his hands into your hair, and fuck, how can Joel resist you? He’s never been able to, and damn it, he probably never will.

He curls his hands into your hair, pumping his hips up into your mouth as far as you can take him, before pulling out again. Fuck, what would people say if they knew Joel Miller had the little nurse, with the baked goods and kind smile, on her knees in his kitchen, fucking her mouth like she’s no more than a filthy fucking whore.

His cock throbs in your mouth as he drags his hips in and out, in and out. You make obscene, sinful fucking sounds, little whines when he pulls out, loud, wet sucking noises when he pushes back in. You just kneel and fucking take it, letting him pull your mouth onto his cock with his fist gripped in your hair.

From the corner of his eye, Joel can see your hand move, subtle and silent. He nearly chokes when that pretty, delicate hand disappears between your thighs, rubbing at your clit through your pants as Joel fucks into your mouth like a goddamn madman. The sight nearly makes him black out.

His orgasm rushes into him without warning, and he can barely choke out a rough, “Fuck, gonna cum-” before he’s shooting his cum down your throat. You moan around him like you love it, the vibrations reverberating up his fucking spine.

Joel Miller is a bad fuckin’ man, but he thinks this might be what heaven feels like. It's probably as close to heaven as he's gonna get.

When he finally releases his grip on your hair, you lean back, letting his sticky cock slip from your mouth, and Joel watches as you stick your tongue out, showing him that you swallowed every drop. Joel’s spent cock twitches between his thighs. 

“Take your fuckin’ clothes off,” he mutters, dark and deep and every bit the bad man everyone thinks he is. “Right now.”

You smile softly, standing up off the floor and pressing yourself against him. “Why don’t we go to bed, Joel?” you murmur in his ear, and Joel growls.

He spins you both around until you’re bent over the counter, ass out for him.

“Too far,” he murmurs, and wrenches your pants down your thighs.

[fullybooked]

What Are My Other Options?

Title: What are my other options? Pairing: Insomniac!PeterParker x Reader Word count: 9.6k Warnings: mentions of cheating (but Peter would never) Notes: F/T = favorite topping Summary: The reader has come to the conclusion that Peter is cheating on them. What else are they supposed to think when he’s always running off and constantly canceling their plans? That he’s Spider-Man?

It wasn’t often that you got a chance to dress up anymore. As a grad student, there was very little spare time to spend on your appearance, and when that kind of rare opportunity arose, you jumped at it. So you didn’t feel bad about spending the last hour in front of a mirror, tossing around outfits, and destroying the closet in the process.

The occasion? The New York Times Gala. You’d been working for the biggest news outlet in the state for your graduate program for investigative journalism, a spot you had fought tooth and nail for. Every News Outlet and invited celebrity would be there, the Daily Bugle, The Wallstreet Journal, USA Today, and you’d heard whispers of Tony Stark attending. You hadn’t even learned until last week that you would be allowed the attend as well. As nothing more than an intern, you hadn’t seen there being a reason.

But your boss had given you the news last Friday, and you’d practically skipped home to tell your boyfriend, Peter, about it. And that you had a plus one. He’d been almost as excited as you.

Which is why you were finding it hard to believe that he wasn’t home right now. He wasn’t getting ready with you, he wasn’t even answering your calls or texts. So while you were excited, there was a bubble of worry hiding underneath.

“Where is he?” You’re muttering to no one but yourself. The last touches of your outfit were going on, and the last train you could take would be at the station in 20 minutes. Your window was closing.

Looking down at your phone while adjusting your choice of red accessories, you start to wonder if something bad had happened to him. After all, New York was crawling with supervillains and regular villains alike. And Peter was equipped for any kind of fight he might’ve run into. Ever since you met him in your first year of college, he had been one of the most peaceful people you’d ever met.

Your red shoes rest by the door, and while pacing your living room, you decide to call his Aunt May. She would surely know if anything, bad or good, had stopped Peter from coming home on such an important night. You click on her contact, resisting the urge to bite your nails from nerves.

It’s only two rings before she answers, “(Y/N)!” she answers happily, “I’m a little shocked to be hearing from you so late, is everything alright? Isn’t tonight your Gala for work?”

Aunt May was nothing short of a saint. Kind and caring, traits she’d taught Peter as she raised him. You adored her, the two of you always got along great when you and Peter volunteered at FEAST or went over for dinner. You weren’t sure if the lack of concern in her voice should make you more worried or not.

“It is,” you tell her as you watch the clock tick on, “but I haven’t been able to get ahold of Peter all night. I’m starting to worry. Have you heard from him?”

There’s a hum of confusion on her end, “I’m afraid not, dear,” she says, “but I wouldn't start worrying just you. We both know how bad he is at keeping time.”

It was true. Peter was chronically late. Normally, it was funny, except for the few times he was an hour late to your date nights. But this was different. He knew how important this night was for you and your career as an investigative journalist. 

“I know…” you agree with May, “It’s just…I can’t be late for this, and the last train is leaving in 15 minutes.”

Your phone buzzes in your hand as you speak to her, and you bring it away from your ear to glance at the screen. A photo of you and Peter in front of the Ferris wheel at Coney Island is on screen, his name appearing with heart emojis next to it. Relief floods your system.

“Oh!” you gasp and return to speaking with May, “that’s him! I’m so sorry for bugging you May!”

She chuckles, “don’t be, dear. You two have a good time!”

You hang up, immediately answering Peter’s call, “Pete! Where are you!? I’ve been calling you all night!”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” his voice sounds winded and tired, like he was running, “I just…got wrapped up in something at work, me and Doc were talking about his lab and…I’m really sorry!”

“Well, where are you?” You ask. There was no point in telling him it was okay, because it didn’t feel okay, “the last train is about to leave and we can’t be late–”

“(Y/N), I don’t think I’ll be able to make it,” his voice cuts you off before you can continue your nervous ramble, “Me and Doc are still wrapped up in this lab project and I won’t be able to make it back in time for the gala. I know how important this was to you and I promise I will make up for this tenfold for the next 20 years–”

You could hear the rushing wind of New York behind the phone as he continued on an apology that you didn’t feel in your chest. He sounded sorry, sure, but you could only feel disappointment in his words. Your shoes are on your feet, and you’re looking at the clock hanging next to a vacation photo of the two of you on the beach. Your lack of response is response enough to him, but you’re too busy deciding if you should be angry or not.

“(Y/N),” he says your name, “I can’t say I’m sorry enough, but you’ll do fantastic even if I’m not there.”

“Seriously?! Of all nights, Peter, you have to pick tonight to flake out on me? You know how important this is and you can’t even look at a clock for two hours?!”

You had 10 minutes to get to the train station from your apartment, a task that would surely try and ruin your hour of work on how you looked.

“I know, babe, I’m so–”

You click the end call button before he can finish. Fumbling with your keys, can feel your cheeks warming up in a rush of emotions. First, embarrassment. A couple of people in your office had been excited to meet Peter, and now you would show up alone. Stood up by your boyfriend of 4 years. The gala would go on without him, and you would have to put on a pretty smile to go along with it. 

Which is exactly what you did, barely making it on time to walk with your boss into the decorated hall. Telling your coworkers that your boyfriend had eaten some bad takeout for dinner and was at home nursing himself back to health. Hoping nobody saw how your eye twitched whenever Peter texted you before turning your phone on do not disturb. 

That night, you locked the bedroom door and left a pillow and blanket on the couch.

★★★★★★

Something you and Peter had in common was your love of pizza. Both of you had differing opinions on the best pizza place in New York, but you did agree that any pizza was better than no pizza. So when you two moved in together, it was an unspoken rule that at least one night a week, you scaped whatever money you had together and ordered a large pizza.

“It’s my week to pick,” you remind him as you sit cross-legged on the couch in your studio apartment, holding the phone of power in your hand, “and I say Benny’s.”

Peter is standing in the kitchen, pulling a can of soda from the fridge, “aw man,” he says, “but they don’t have the good pepperoni.”

“But they have the Italian sausage,” you remind him, already pulling up Doordash on your phone, “and it’s my night.”

Peter looks over his shoulder, a smile on his face that always makes you blush and look away like a teenager, “you’re lucky I love you,” he says, “and I’m willing to part with the good pepperoni.”

You giggle back, “Aren’t I the luckiest? So half sausage half (F/T)?”

“It’s your world, babe,” he says as he walks around the couch to sit beside you, “I’m just living in it.”

“That’s the answer I was looking for,” you look over at him with a grin.

These nights were the ones you loved the most. The two of you in pajamas, ordering your favorite food, waiting for the newest episode of Game of Thrones to air, in the quiet of the apartment. Where the noise and air of New York felt like it was miles away, and your little bubble couldn’t be disturbed.

Peter leans down, his eyes soft when he looks at you, and he kisses you slowly. Every kiss with him, deep or small, left you with fire in your veins. Whether it was innocent or lewd, at home or in the park, an apology kiss or a hello kiss, you always felt like you were walking on the hot air of a volcanic eruption. He pulls away, smiling like he was looking at the sun for the first time.

“Hm,” you gaze back at him, “I don’t care how much you kiss me, I won’t be swayed into Lenny’s.”

He gives a dramatically fake sigh, “There went the plan of seducing you into mushroom on half.”

“Well, I didn’t say that…” you roll your eyes, still smiling. You were always smiling with Peter. Or, most of the time you were.

His phone dings on the coffee table in front of you, the screen face down but illuminating the light-colored wood around it. It caught you off guard for a moment, that his screen is face down. And that he picked it up immediately. But you didn’t let it bother you for long, deciding to order the pizza while he checked whatever notification he had. 

Just as you hit delivery, Peter stands up from the couch in too quick of a motion to be reassuring. You jump slightly at his speed, looking back at him in confusion. Tilting your head, you look as he shoves his phone into his back pocket.

“Pete?” you say in an unsure voice, “is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s great,” he says. The slight rise at the end of his sentence makes you narrow your eyes, “It’s just uh…Doc texted me and uh he says he’s had a breakthrough on this project, but he needs my help with it..”

You can’t hide the disappointment in your expression as he makes a reach for his keys hanging by the door, and for his bag by the couch. 

“Oh…” you say, trying to mask the sound of defeat in your voice, “right now? It’s almost nine pm.”

“Yeah, it’s just…a really important project,” he insists as he pulls his shoes on hurriedly. You would think he’d just gotten a call from the police with how quickly he was moving, “and you know Doc, he’s always rushing through the numbers, so I should just make sure he’s got them all right before moving on.”

He was rambling. His voice was rising and falling. Every tell he had that he was lying, but you didn’t want to jump to that conclusion. What was there for him to lie about? What would have him running from the apartment so late? He did care a lot about the projects he and Doc had going at the lab, he was always doing some kind of numbers crunch for his boss.

Peter slows his pace when he takes note of your expression, avoiding his eyes, “I swear I’ll be right back,” he says as he walks back towards the couch where you sat, “30 minutes tops, I’ll be here before the pizza guy, I promise.”

So it wouldn’t be a long late night call by Doc, then. That makes you feel the tiniest bit better, and you give him a small half-hearted smile. What were you supposed to say? No, don’t go to your job that you’re so crazy passionate about? Don’t go help your boss on a project that could potentially change lives? You make no move to stop him.

“I promise,” Peter repeats when he doesn’t see a lift in your spirits. He leans down, pressing his lips to yours again, lighting you on fire from the inside, “don’t start the episode without me!”

You tried to take that as a sign that he meant it. Half an hour and he would be back with the pizza still hot in the box. So you kissed him goodbye and sat on the couch by yourself in the apartment. As soon as the episode started, you hit pause and texted Peter that you had done so, letting him know that every second you were away from Jon Snow would be counted towards your next pizza night.

20 minutes passed, and the pizza showed up with steam rising from the box. His half with sausage and mushroom was untouched as you grabbed a slice from your side. Just because he said to wait on the show didn’t mean you had to wait for dinner.

30 minutes, and you figured he was fighting the night rush on the train. He didn’t answer your text message, but he probably needed all of his attention on his work right now. You don’t make a fuss, keeping the show paused.

After an hour of no response, you get fed up of sitting with just your phone and decide to unpause the show. If he came in and mentioned it, you would tell him to watch it tomorrow night while you were at work. But he doesn’t come back. Even when the episode is over, you haven’t heard the jingle of the keys in the lock. 

Two hours late, as you decide to pack it up for bed, your phone buzzes on the coffee table. From the kitchen, putting the box of pizza in the fridge, you heavily roll your eyes. Your disappointment was riddled with hints of anger, but there was also confusion. Peter had always been flakey, he’d always been late, he’d always been absent-minded and forgetful, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d put his phone face time when around you lately.

It could mean nothing. In fact, it probably did mean nothing, but there was a sense of dread in your gut. You weren’t sure you wanted to face the idea that was forming in the back of your head. Because you loved Peter, you loved him so much you weren’t sure what life had been like before you started loving him. He made you feel safe and seen and understood, he made you feel like someone important in a city where nobody mattered unless they were on the front page of a magazine.

And if there was one thing you were sure of anymore, it was that Peter Parker loved you too. Nothing had shaken that fact over the last four years, and you weren’t sure anything ever would. 

But you could still be upset with him when he did things like this. Like bailing on your traditional date night, like standing you up on one of the most important nights of your rising career. You picked up your phone, reading the text from Peter that had come in two minutes ago. All the lights in the apartment were off, and you were ready to tuck yourself into bed.

His message read, “Baby I’m so sorry. I’m gonna be a little while still, please don’t be too mad at me.”

The words “I’m so sorry” were starting to grow old to you. You lock your phone and leave it in the living room with the screen facing up, no response, and your chest getting heavier and heavier as you sit in the empty apartment by yourself.

★★★★★★

He’s just late, you tell yourself, like always. He’s always late.

You couldn’t even tell yourself that he’d never been two hours late befor because he had. Sitting in the corner booth of Leo’s pizza, more dressed up than you should be for a place like this, you try to convince yourself that Peter was late for a good reason.

The train broke down, he’d had his phone stolen, sandman was on the loose again and he had to take the long way here.

But the news was mostly quiet, with no attacks, and he hadn’t even texted you. Again. 

You stir the straw in your soda, watching the melting ice bump into the sides of the glass as your mind runs rampant. After Peter had bailed on your pizza and Game of Thrones night, you had been angry and hurt and unable to hide that from him. His apology? Take you out to Leo’s for dinner, your favorite pizza place of all time.

There was no way Peter would stand you up for your apology date. Not even he was the absent-minded, you were sure. You’d been talking about it just this morning over breakfast in the kitchen. He’d given you free rein of the toppings, and he would meet you here after work.

Looking at the clock, two hours had become three, and Leo’s would close in one more. Sitting back in your booth seat, you swallow the lump of emotions that wanted to burst out.

“That boy still not here?” Leo, the man behind the counter, asks you.

The burly Italian man had been witness to your guys’ relationship grow. From your first date to your anniversary dates to your celebration dates. He’d seen it all from behind the counter, and you were sure he would be witness to every other milestone. At least, you had been. 

Sitting in the booth alone, you were beginning to wonder if there was anything beyond these four years with Pete.

“I wish I knew, Leo,” you admit and look down at your phone.

It buzzes as you’re looking at it. But when you see Pete’s name pop up, you don’t feel any sense of relief or anger or even sadness. Maybe you just didn’t want to feel it all at once in front of poor Leo. He didn’t need to witness that part of your relationship. 

Pete had said, “Where are you at? Working late?”

You couldn’t help the scoff, “he forgot about me,” you say more to yourself than anyone else.

“What was that?” Leo asks when he catches a hint of your mumbling.

You look up from the phone, tucking it away into your pocket, and give the man a tight smile, “nothing, Leo. Sorry for wasting your time.”

Pushing yourself out of the booth, you wonder how you would go about this. Peter had been bailing on you more and more these past few months. With date the gala, with date night, and not to mention the countless nights he comes home so late you think he’s an intruder half the time. Had he always been like this and you were only noticing now that you lived together? Or had you just ignored it because of how much you loved him?

“Not a waste of time,” Leo assures you as you walk towards the door, “you and Peter will come back soon, I’m sure.”

He sounded confident. But you couldn’t even bring yourself to politely agree. You thanked him again. You texted Peter back while taking your time walking towards the train station.

“Well, I was at Leo’s,” you reply, “waiting for your amazing apology date.”

Not even a full minute goes by before his caller ID appears on your phone. You answer it out of pure curiosity, too tired to be angry at him anymore or even upset with him. He’s speaking before the phone can even fully reach your ear. Pete’s voice sounds frantic.

“I'm on my way!” He insists, “just give me two minutes and I’ll be there, I swear, (Y/N)!”

“Forget it, Peter,” you hope your voice doesn’t sound as strained as it feels, “I already left. Go back to work.”

“I wasn’t at work, I was…” He doesn’t seem to have a good answer for her, “Just give me two minutes, (Y/N) and I can still make this date happen, I promise!”

“Peter…” You weren’t sure you wanted to go back to the apartment and face the conclusion you were drawing, “all I’ve heard the past month are apologies and promises you don’t keep. It’s exhausting.”

“I know, I know, I’ve been a shit boyfriend but I’ll get it together, I know I will.”

“Even your apologies need apologies,” you sigh, rocks sitting in your chest and making you walk slower, “how many more nights are you going to stand me up this month alone?”

“None!” He insists, “It’s not gonna happen again, ever.”

“Why has it already happened six times then?” You shake your head as you reach the train station, your stomach rumbling as you regret not getting a slice of pizza to go, “and yes, I’ve counted. That’s just this month!”

There’s no immediate response on his end, and the silence makes the rocks in your chest grow to fill your stomach as well. It was like every conversation you had was giving you more reason to believe that suspicion that you wanted to forget about because it made no sense.

In the night air of New York, you can smell pizza and trash trucks littering the street. And somewhere in the distance, the sirens that were always going in this city. You weren’t sure if it was from your end or Peter’s

“(Y/N), when you get home I swear we’ll talk this out,” he finally breaks his stretch of silence, “I’ll be waiting for you, and you can yell at me for however long you need but–”

You close your eyes for a moment and grip the phone, “do not say you need to go.”

“I have to go…dammit,” he mutters the last word to himself, “I’ll meet you at home, (Y/N), I’ll be there and we can work this out.”

You shake your head, watching as a train approaches the boarding area. One that wouldn’t lead you to the apartment but to somewhere else. You step onto the nearly empty car, watching a few people shuffle out and pay you no mind.

“Don’t bother, Peter,” you say, “I’m staying with my parents tonight, okay? So just go back to whatever work is more important than I am.”

★★★★★★

A very common task given to you at work was getting coffee. Usually, it was the first thing you did in the mornings when your boss handed you a company card and a piece of paper with everyone's order on it. Sometimes throughout the day, you would be sent on other various food and drink runs, but only around meal times.

Sitting at your desk, you were looking over the files on your computer that contained a few of the articles being pitched to your boss that afternoon. Your task was the weed out the “boring” ones by trying to decide what he would deem boring in the first place. You weren’t expecting any kind of task before the meeting, so all of your attention was on the article on your screen.

“(Y/N)!” You jump nearly out of your desk chair when your boss yells your name from across the room, “We need a coffee run before this meeting!”

Your boss was not a man of patience, so you had a few seconds before he got annoyed with your lack of movement. Closing the tab on your computer, you grab a piece of loose paper and a pen and start across the room of office cubicles towards him.

“Your usual, sir?” You ask him in the fake professional voice you’d taken to using with him.

He nods his head and holds up the silver credit card for office expenses, “Yes, and an iced chai for Martha when she gets here, and a vanilla latte with soy for Marcus.”

You scribble down the other orders as you nod your head and take the card, “I’m on it, back in a jiff.”

“(Y/N)!” here it came, “can I get a lavender mocha?!”

Everyone would shout orders at you as you left when they heard a coffee run was being called. Normally, you tried to get out of there as quickly as possible before too many orders piled up. Because no one would offer to come with you to help carry them, and you could only carry so many steaming cups before you were destined to spill them on yourself. 

The paper is filled before you’re in the elevator anyway, leaving you with 8 orders of coffee. You liked being at work because you hardly had time to think for yourself. Unless you were doing some kind of food or drink run, and then you had entirely too much time to yourself. And right now, you didn’t want to spend too much time in your head.

For the past three days, you had been staying overnight at your parent's place in Queens. During the day you would be at your apartment, getting ready for work or making your meals, because you knew Peter would be gone at the lab. You hadn’t come face to face with him since the morning he stood you up for his apology date, and it’s because you couldn't bear to look at him. Just the thought of confronting him with the truth made you nauseous. You weren’t sure you wanted him to say it out loud or not.

Your parents hadn’t minded when you showed up, near tears, telling them that you were at least 80% sure that Peter was cheating on you. They’d offered you their guest room and told you to think about things with a clear head. Your mother had been very adamant that you talk to him first.

But you’d been ignoring his calls and texts like the plague. Partly because you wanted him to know what it felt like to be ignored, and partly because you weren’t sure what you wanted to say to him yet. You knew you would talk to him when you were damn well ready, and you weren’t ready. Not this morning when he sent his usual “good morning” message and asked if you wanted to meet for lunch. 

Maybe tonight you would talk to him. You would bite the bullet and get the truth, even if you didn’t like what it was.

As you stand and wait for your two coffee carriers, you look down at your phone and all of Peter’s unanswered texts and voicemails. He was persistent, especially when it came to your relationship. You love that about him. 

Peter Parker didn’t do anything half-assed. Everything he did from school to work was 100%, and relationships had never been different. At least not until now. He’d loved you as much as you loved him, you had been sure of that until now. You just didn’t understand when that had changed. What had made him back away from you to the point of forgetting about you multiple times a month?

“(Y/N)!” You hear it called from up ahead. You look up from your phone, wondering if your order was done already. But you see a familiar face walking towards you in a grey sweater vest and a head of thinning brown hair with small glasses.

You smile and turn your body to face him, “Doctor Octavius!” You greet, “it’s been a while!”

“It has,” he agrees as he reaches out to shake your hand, “it’s so funny running into you here. I’m here every day for lunch but we’ve never run into each other.”

You shake your head politely, “this is an odd time for a coffee run for me,” you assure him, “so how are you? Things at the lab doing okay? Peter is so excited to be working with you.”

“And I’m happy to have him,” Dr. Octavius says, “he’s passionate about helping people, that boy,” he then waves a hand through the air to laugh, “if only he could be on time for once in his life! But I’m sure you know all about that.”

You give a pained smile, hoping it looked more real than it felt, “You have no idea,” you agree and then try to forget about the sore subject in your relationship, “but I’m sure he’s making up for it with all the late nights, he’s always thinking about your guys’ projects.”

Dr. Octavius laughs while pushing up his glasses, “Oh, I wish we could do late nights,” he tells you, and your heart begins to pound, “I’m afraid I don’t have the funding to keep workers past normal hours. But that’s not an issue for now, I’m glad Peter has some spare time to spend with you. You two remind me so much of me and my wife when were young…”

His word became muffled. No late nights. He didn’t have the funding for late nights. But Peter had been telling you that he was at work, with Dr. Octavius. He’d been telling you that for months. If he wasn’t there…where had he been going? Why had he been lying to you? What was the point of lying to you?

You’d never been the kind of person to tell Peter what he could and couldn’t do. It was his life, his choices, his spare time. Why did he feel the need to tell he was somewhere when he wasn’t? The weight in your chest stretched down to your stomach, and you wondered if anxiety-vomiting was a real thing. It felt like you were about to find out.

“Order for (Y/N)!” Your name breaks your trance as well as the conversation with Dr. Octavius, who was still speaking despite you not hearing it. You look up at the barista counter, where your 8 drinks are waiting for you to grab them.

“Oh, I’ll let you get back to work,” the doctor says as he hears your name as well, “I hope we run into each other again, (Y/N).”

“Me too, Doctor,” you tell him, hoping it sounded scincere, “good luck with your research, I can’t wait to hear about it!”

The doctor smiles, and he’s about to turn away when he looks back at you, “Oh, and (Y/N), great work on that Oscorp piece last week!”

Any other day, you would be ecstatic that someone had read you piece in the back of the paper and at the bottom of the website. Especially after all the work you put into gathering information on Oscorp’s underhanded carbon emissions from half of their facilities. But you didn’t feel that excitement, you hardly felt anything about it. But you thanked Dr. Octavius and grabbed your row of drinks off the counter.

Your brain was in another world entirely as you balanced everything on your hands. Peter had been lying to you for months. Maybe even longer than that. He was bailing on your dates, leaving you alone in the apartment at night to “work.” Still, you tied to put half of your focus on getting back to work in time for the meeting without spilling anything. You only took your eyes off the coffee to check your footing.

But the streets of New York were never kind, not even to those having a month full of bad days. With your eyes on the coffee, you fail to notice an incoming biker barreling down the sidewalk. There’s a ding of a bell that makes you look up, but it was to late to get out of his way without spilling anything.

What’s one more bad day, You think when you realize your situation, on top of all the others?

Still, you yelp as he barely swerves around you, your foot caught under his thin tire. When you jump from pain, your hands instinctually let go of the coffee trays. The smell of lavender and espresso douse your nice work clothes, and hot liquid burning the exposed skin it touches. You jump back from the biker, who was already whizzing past you and disappearing into the city. The edge of the sidewalk was right there, and your heel is already too close to the edge.

“Whoa! Watch out!” You hear someone calling down at you, but what were you supposed to do? You were already slipping into the road and watching as cars didn't bother to slow down.

There’s a burst of air at your side, a hand on your hip, and your feet are barely picked up off the ground before being sat back down a few feet further into the walkway. You saw the red and blue before you could process the entirety of what had just happened. Spider-Man, the walking legend of the New York streets. He was the small time hero whs ometimes got into big-time fights. Your boss absolutely loved him.

You’d never had a personal enounter with the hero before, and you didn’t think you would ever need to. But you’d heard plenty of stories from other people while working. He was a good man, someone who cared about the people of New York, even the small people like you who didn’t have their names on billboards. 

“Are you okay?” He aks you.

His voice was a little distorted when you heard it, robitcally. It must be another way for him to protect his identity, you assume. Maybe his suit was more high tech than people realized. You look over at him, wide eyes, coffee all over you, your skin tinted red from the heat, and you say nothing at first. Taking in the situation. Taking in the information Octavius had given you, and the only conclusion you could draw from it.

Spider-Man tilts his head as he lets go of your waist, “Miss…are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Besides the burning coffee your arms an your throbbing foot, you shake your head. But you could feel the emotions you were pushing down starting to bubble over. A month of ignoring signs that the person you loved more than anything was cheating on you, hoping it was all some big misunderstanding. Your job piling more tasks on you because you could take it, with no breaks and hardly time to eat lunch. You just wanted a pizza night with Peter, with your favorite show and your favorite person right next to you. But he was, clearly, with someone else when he was supposed to be with you.

Your eyes start to burn.

“Okay, good,” Spider-Man says with a nod of hs red and blue mask, “that was almost bad. Do you need smeone to uh…walk you back to wherever you’re going?”

Why did he care? You were fine, just getting more upset by the second. Any minute the dams would burst and you didn’t need a superhero seeing you cry over spilled coffee. So you shake your head again, trying to wipe the coffee from your skin.

“That looks like it hurts,” Spider-Man comments when he sees the light burn on your arms, “we should get some ice on that. That coffee shop should have some,” he points to where you had just come from.

You shake your head again, “I’m fine.”

But even to you your voice sounded thick with emotions he woudln’t understand. Hell, you didn’t even fully understand them. What you understand is that Peter wasn’t going to be who you call anymore after a bad day. You wouldn’t go home to him tonight�� because he would be gone, tell you it was for work, and then turn his phone upside downwhen he got back.

“Alright miss, if you’re sure,” he says, “but some ice water might make it feel better. I’ve had few coffee burns before too.”

You weren’t sure what the final straw was, but you couldn't stop it anymore. The tears fell, and you drop your head into your hands to block it from anyone who walked by. But nobody in New York cared about people who cried in the street, you knew that. You just didn’t want to be the weirdo on this day who broke down in front of a coffee shop. Keeping you cries as internal as possible, you begin to turn towards the coffee shop once more.

“Whoa,” Spider-Man stops you, “Are you okay? What’s wrong? Why are you crying? It’s just a few cups of coffee, we can order more.”

This stranger sounded so much like Peter in his words that it made you cry a little bit harder. Peter was the go to for any kind of comfort. He spoke so calmly when you were loosing it that if made you feel more in control. You hated it right now because you weren’t in control of anything anymore. 

Spider-Man places a covered hand on your shoulder that you’re too upset to brush away. 

“It’s everything!” You sniffle on the street, people pushing around you without sparing your emotional break a glance, “I’m gonna be late to the meeting because i have to chage clothes, and now I have to get more coffee, and I think my boyfriend is cheating on me!”

Hearing the words out loud, you cries become harder to muffle and tears begin to fall onto your palms. Peter was cheating on you, you were sure of that. There was nothing else that explained his behavior and lies. Normally you wouldn’t wail about your problem to a stranger, but what could it hurt? It’s not like he knew you or Peter, and he would forget about this in an hour when he was pulling a kitten from a tree.

“Wait, why would you…” his voice sounded hurried at first before he stopped and corrected himself, “um why do you think that, Miss? That your boyfriend is cheating on you? I really doubt that’s the case, I mean I don’t know him but I think that’s way out there to assume, not that I know anything about your relationship–”

“What do you care?” You turn from the super hero and back towards the coffee shop, where you try to swallow down your cries and sniffles long enough to order your coffee for a second time.

★★★★★★

Your boss had not been happy to see you appear in coffee covered clothes with a slight limp. He’d been the slightest bit concerned when he also took note of your red eyes and ruined hair, but then told you to go home and change as quick as humanly possible.

But you didn’t move like you were in a rush. Actually, you drug your feet back to your apartment hoping that Peter would really be at work. You didn’t even want to walk into the home you shared with him knowing that he had been running around with someone else while you were there alone. But you had no where else to go and change that was within a one-train-ride distance.

You unlock the door, eyes still stinging at the corners, your clothes sticking to your body. And there was a slight sting in your skin where the coffee had hit. Maybe Spider-Man had been right about icing it. Maybe a cold shower would make you feel better physically and emotionally, but you doubted it. 

You open the front door, dropping your keys in the tray by the door.

“(Y/N)! You’re home!” You nearly jumped out of your skin when Peter’s voice came from the living area, “please, we need to talk!”

You look at him as you shut the door behind you, and you wanted to start crying just seeing him. But you held it in and turned away from him.

“I don’t have time for this, Peter,” you tell him, “I’m late for a meeting and I have to shower before I go back.”

“Please, (Y/N) even just a two minute conversation, I swear,” he pushed, walking after you as you went towards the bedroom where you had a bathroom connected, “you don’t even have to talk, just listen.”

“I don’t have time for this!” You repeat, starting to get irritated in the sadness you felt when he spoke your name. You reach the bedroom and make a beeline for the bathroom, wondering if he would disappear before you got out. He follows you up until you close the bathroom door in his face. Your tears fall again under the cold water, and you hope he can’t hear it.

You showered, changed, and blow dried your hair. Not as quickly as you could’ve, but quick enough for your boss to think you moved as fast as you could. Part of you didn’t even want to go back in, but the other option was staying here and facing the music with your boyfriend.

Who was still there when you opened the bathroom door. Sitting on the bed you two shared. His side was strewn about from sleeping, his pillow crooked, the blanks tossed aside. But your side was untouched, even your half of the blankets pulled up. You were always the one to make the bed. He immediately stands up when he hears the door open, turning towards you.

His normally put together hair was frazzed. He ran his hands through it when he was upset. It was one of his tells when he was nervous and tried to hide it. 

“Peter…” you sigh as he gets up to follow you from the bedroom, “please, not now. I have a lot to do at work, and I don’t need to be thinking about this while I’m there.”

“You won’t come home at night,” Peter says behind you as you reach for your shoes by the door. They still had coffee marks on them, “you only come back when you know I’m at work, I don’t know when we’ll be able to talk aside from showing up at your work. Which I have thought about, believe me.”

“Then just wait until I’m ready to talk,” you tell him, “what’s wrong with that option?”

“Because I really want us to go back to normal, (Y/N). I want you to come home, and I want to see you next to me in the mornings, and I want to hear about your day–”

“We can’t go back to normal, Peter,” it looks like you were doing this now. There was no way around it anymore. Part of you was relieved, “not after this. I don’t even think there can be an us to go back to.”

“Please don’t do this, (Y/N),” he pleas, approaching you but keeping enough distance between you that you didn’t feel trapped here, “I know…that…I know you think that I’ve been doing something, I know what you think and you have to know–”

“How would you know what I think, Peter?” You ask him, your throat threatening to close, “you’re not around to hear what I think anymore! You’re never here, you’re running out in the middle of the night, you’re lying about where you are!”

“I know that I’ve made some stupid mistakes this past month,” he insists, “but I can fix it all, I swear, and you’ll never have to deal with those problems again.”

Fix it all. He couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t fix the fact that you didn’t believe a single word he said now. Or that you would always wonder if he was looking at someone else when you went out on dates. But you still looked at him and you loved him because you knew what it felt like to be loved by him at one point. When had that changed? When had he stopped loving you? Was it so quick you only noticed now, or had it been so slowly you hadn’t noticed at all?

“Just…” you inhale deeply and try to keep your breathing steady, “tell me the truth…please. Are you cheating–” 

“No,” he shakes his head before the question is even out.

“--on me? Are you seeing someone else?”

“No,” he repeats, “I am not, have never, and will never cheat on you, (Y/N), I promise.”

“I don’t believe your promises anymore, Peter.”

“I love you,” he takes a few steps to close to distance between you two so he’s standing directly in front of you. He reaches down for your shaking hands, like he wanted to steady to flurry of emotions you were feeling, “I love you so much, and that is a promise I have never broken. Why do you think that? Why would you ever think I would chose someone over you?”

You pull your hands away from his, sick at how at ease he could still make you feel when he spoke with such a calm voice. You didn’t want to be calm or sad. You wanted to be angry. But his brown eyes only left you feeling small and defeated.

“What else am I supposed to think?” you shake your head and take a step away from him, “what are my other options? Of course there’s someone else–”

“There’s no one,” he presses, “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved like this.”

“So you leave me at a table by myself at Leos?” You ask with a disbelieving headshake, “and tell me you’re at work when Dr. Octavius says he can’t keep you after hours? If you’re not cheating, Peter, then why all the lies? Give me the truth, or I don’t think I can handle being loved like this anymore.”

He doesn’t say anything. Your shoe are on, youre reaching for the doorhandle, and you don’t think he’s going to stop you. That hurts more than anything. Or mayb all of the hurt was piling up and you didn’t know what was the most painful anymore. You couldn’t look back at him for fear you would crack and beg for an answer. 

Your hands on the door handle, you want him to stop you, but you refuse to beg him to choose you.

There’s a thwipp sound behind you, and then something cold has your hand pinned to the doorknob. Unable to turn it. You look down at it, and a pile of white spiderwebs is covered your hand entirely. Looking back at Peter, his hand is out and pointed in your direction. His eyes are wide, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing either.

“I-I’m sorry,” he says and takes his hands through his hair in distress, “I didn’t want you to find out like this, but I couldn’t let you walk away thinking that I had cheated on you.”

Your head was going a mile a minute, probably not even on Earth anymore, and you were staring down at the webs covering your hand. Your first coherent thought was that it was Peter you had cried in front of an hour ago, crying about your cheating boyfriend. The second thought was that this also made sense for all the lies and the leaving. 

“I’m not gonna stop you from leaving me,” He’s rambling behind you, “even though I’m ready to get down on my hands and knees and grovel for one more chance, but if you need to walk away from me then please just know the truth when you do it. I love you, (Y/N), and that is the only thing I’m sure is true anymore.”

You sniffle, your tears having run dry, “Peter,” you say in a dull and emotionless voice, “can you come get this shit off my hand so I can go back to work?”

★★★★★★

Needless to say, you didn’t get anything productive done after that encounter with Peter. It wasn’t hard to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t cheating on you. You’d been looking for a reason to do that for a month now. But the fact that he was Spider-Man?

Your Peter, who hated violence, who was as peaceful as a butterfly, who didn’t even like watching MMA fights, was a crime fighting superhero? With powers? And you’d been living under the same room as him for a year and had never noticed?

Your brain was connecting the pieces of every time thing that had happened. Like when the sink handle had broken off one morning in Peter’s hand when you’d first moved into the apartment. You’d laughed about it, thinking about what a funny stroke of bad luck he’d had. Or when he’d come home bruises along his back and say he’d fallen while trying to get work on time. It had sounded true at the time, but Peter wasn’t the clumsy type. Now you knew why. He was coordinated enough to fight super villains.

None of what you needed to get done happened at work. You could hardly process any words you read, and any conversations went in one ear and out the other. Your boyfriend was Spider-Man, you were still grappling with that revelation by the time you got off. 

You decided to go home. Now that you knew Peter wasn’t cheating on you, it felt like you could at least see the place again. However, on your walk to the train station, you were hyper aware of every se of sirens that went off somewhere in the distance. Which was every three seconds in New York, and the worry you felt knowing he could be at any crime scene was arguably as bad as the anxiety you’d felt all day.

Of course you could text him. But after ignoring him for three days, it felt only right to talk in person. You hoped you would be home when you arrived, but if not, you would have to wait. It would give you time to think of what you were going to say. Of how you wanted to go about things now that you knew the truth.

You unlocked the front door with anxiety running through your veins. On the other side, the remains of his webs from earlier were still hanging from the doorknob. He’d cut you free with his house keys, and you’d left before you could see the webs closely. When he wasn’t inside, you looked at them a little closer. They were as thin as real spider webs, but you’d felt how strong they were when holding your hand down. Peter was genius enough to make these himself, that’s for sure.

The apartment was empty. You didn’t hear any sign of Peter. So you place your keys in the tray by the door and take a seat on the couch, letting things slowly settle in your head. 

You sent Peter a text, “I’m at home. We should talk.”

You honestly weren’t expecting a reply, so you set your phone down and decide to find something to eat. As you silently open the fridge, your options are slim. There’s one can of Dr. Pepper, left over pasta, and a container of uncooked mushrooms in the drawer. Peter clearly hadn’t been shopping while you were gone. You reach for the left over pasta, figuring it was your only option that required minimal cooking tonight.

“(Y/N),” your name makes you jump a mile in the air, a yelp leaving you. Spinning around, you see Peter.

He’s sitting on the edge of a newly opened window that led to your fire escape. In a familiar red and blue suit with a web design on it. The mask is crumpled in his hand, like he didn’t want you to panic when you saw him. His hair is a frizzed mess, and his eyes are staring at you like he was shocked to find you standing in the kitchen.

“You’re here,” he says as you place a hand on your chest to feel how hard your heart is hammering.

He steps into the living area, and you can see the suit in clear lighting. He came in so easily and with skill. Like he’d done it a million times before.

“That’s how you get in without setting off the alarm?!” You ask him in disbelief.

He looks back at the window for a second, and then back at you, “Yeah,” he confirms, “It doesn’t wake you up, and it’s less stairs.”

“Less stairs,” you repeat and nod your head, setting your cold pasta on the counter, “yeah, makes sense, sure.”

Peter puts the mask on the coffee table beside your phone, “you want to talk?” he asks, as if confirming it was you who sent the text message, “I wasn’t sure you were ever coming back, if I’m honest.”

“Well I did ask for the truth,” you tell him, leaning back against the, “I can’t be mad that I got it.”

There’s silence on his end. Like he wasn’t sure what to say next. But you weren’t either. A few things came to mind, but you didn’t know where to start. So you decided on the first thing that came up when you opened your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” you land on, “for thinking you were cheating.”

Peter looks up, eyes wide, clearly not having expected that, “what? Don’t apologize, I’m supposed to be apologzing.”

“Yeah, well, I figured I owe you one too.”

The space between you two felt like miles, but it was only feet. And the apartment felt cold, like you were both avoiding making the first move. You wanted him back at your side, as close to you as he could be. You wanted to sit on the couch with Peter as your peasonal heated blanket, listening to his heartbeat as you fell asleep. 

“I owe you about a million more,” Peter shakes his head and finally breaks the distance separating you two, “I never should’ve even let you begin to think that I would pick someone else over you. I should’ve told you the truth years ago, I should’ve told you the moment I realized I loved you, I’m sorry.”

He’s maybe a foot away. He’d closed the distance up until now, and you decide to close the rest. Your hands reach out, the feeling of the suit alien under your fingers, but his warmth reminds you that its him. Pulling him forward, he practically melts into you as you wrap your arms around him. Burying your face into his neck, feeling his hair between your fingers. It was Peter, your loyal and loving Peter.

Peter holds you back. Now you know that the strength he’s holding back is because he doesn’t want to hurt you. How could Peter ever hurt you? He loved you, and you loved him. After too long thinking that that was a lie, it was a relief to know it was still true. Keeping this kind of secret couldn’t have been easy for him, just as it hadn’t been easy for you to think he was being unfaithful. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask him as he leans his body against yours, his face buried in your hair in relief, “it’s been years, Pete, you could’ve trusted me with this…”

He lifts his head, only enough so he could press his forehead to yours, “I do trust you,” he says, “but I also love you more than life itself, so I have to protect you above anything else. There’s a lot of people out there who wanna hurt me, and I will not let them use you to do it. I can’t do that to you.”

“Pete trusting me with something like this isn’t damning me to being a damsel in distress,” you inform him carefully, using your hands to gently swipe his messy hair from his eyes.

The apartment was dimly lit, something you’d always complained about, but you could see his face clear as day as he clung to you in the kitchen light. His brown eyes glossy with tears, the freckles dotting his cheeks that you counted when you couldn’t sleep. You though your knew everything about him, every part of him, but he had been hiding an entirely differen life from you. A life that couldn’t have been easy to shoulder all on his own. You couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him for hiding from you only to protect you.

“I couldn’t risk it,” he admits, his voice as soft as the light above you, “but I also couldn’t stand the thought of you thinking that I didn’t love you with every cell in my body. I needed you to know the truth even if you still left.”

You shake your head against his, “this isn’t going to drive me away, Pete,” you assure him, palms coming to a rest on his cheeks, “what’ll drive me away is the lies. Promise me no more lies, Pete, please.”

He’s nodding his head before you can even finish the sentence, “No more,” he says, “no more lies or secrets, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

You believed him. Not just because you wanted to, but because you could feel that me meant it. Every doubt that you’d had in your head is flooded away as you make the first move to kiss him. His lips were as soft as they always were, his movements just as gentle. He was still your Peter, the same guy you fell in love with over Leo’s pizza. He leans forward, pinning you against the counter so he get a solid grip on your waist. 

He hoists you up with one hand, and you can’t help but gasp as he lands your butt on the counter without blinking. He chuckles at your reaction, settling himself between your knees in your shock.

“You’ve been hiding this the whole time?” you ask, now more interested than anything else. You lock your legs around his hips, “Pete, we could’ve been having some real fun with this.”

Peter grins, “Trust me, I know, I’ve had a few dreams about it.”

[eli0004]

Thinking about University AU with Eren x his friend’s hot older sister.

⚠️ nsfw warning ⚠️

Implied age gap, but Eren is 21 and reader is only older by 2-3 years.

You two meet when he’s on spring break. You and a couple of your friends are doing a bonfire on the beach. It’s supposed to be a small thing, to hang out and smoke and have some drinks, listen to music to kick off the start of warmer weather.

Your younger brother Jean asks if he could come and bring a couple of his buddies. You say yes, assuming it will actually only be a few.

It was more than a few. Actually “a few” would be the biggest understatement of the year. Needless to say, you were pissed.

It turns out, Jean intended for in to be just him and 5 of his friends. One of those friends, none other than Eren Jeager, happened to text some of his friends, who texted their friends, and so on.

You’re standing by the fire, yelling at Jean for fucking up your function, while he’s trying to explain what happened, but you’re not having it.

Jean stomps off to go find Eren, and tells him he needs to come apologize to his sister because she’s pissed and now he won’t be able to smoke anymore since she supplies him. His broke ass can’t afford the good weed she’s got.

Eren’s like “woah man…don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

But when he walks over and sees you standing there, he loses his footing in the sand and trips over his flip flop, stumbling to the side like an idiot, and he realizes he absolutely does not got this.

How has he never noticed what a great body you have? Was your hair always this perfect? Why are you so hot when you’re angry?

When he approaches you, you raise an eyebrow at him, and he scratches the back of his neck.

“Hey, you’re Jean’s sister, right?” He glances to the side, scanning for him. You nod.

“Yeah, and what about it?” You ask, rolling your eyes at the question. You’re used to your little brother’s dumb friends trying to hit on you by now.

“Erm…I just wanna apologize for inviting so many people. I didn’t think they would all show up…and uh- please don’t take weed privileges away from Jean.”

You can’t help but laugh at that last part, finding it endearing that he was stumbling through an apology to save his friends ass, when you didn’t even expect to even get a “sorry”.

“Whatever man” you shrug, slowly turning away with a smile and waving him off. “I’m gonna go get a White Claw”

Since then, Eren couldn’t get you off his mind. He knew it was stupid, it’s not like you two had a moment or something back there, but it was just something about the way you looked at him after he apologized.

The next time you see each other is on Jeans birthday. Your parents are hosting a dinner party for him, family and a few of his friends.

Eren happens to be there, and they’re all downstairs in the basement playing pool.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t thought Eren was cute. The whole night you’d been smiling and throwing looks at him.

Then, you happen to be walking to your bedroom as Eren is exiting the bathroom, bumping into each other. He stumbles back in the dark hallway.

“Shit, sorry” he reaches out to steady you. “Are you ok?”

“Better than i was a second a go” you grin, eyes twinkling. Eren’s brain just kinda…goes blank.

…

About 20 minutes goes by and you’re sucking him off against the door of the bathroom you two are locked in. One of his hands is tangled in your hair, the other is gripping the granite countertop like his life depends on it.

He doesn’t dare look down or he knows he’ll cum too quick. You’re older, more experienced, and it’s obvious you know what you’re doing. He’s never had a blow job like this in his life.

He feels like his soul is leaving his body, head thrown back against the door as he lets out soft whimpers between heavy pants. He knows he can’t be loud, but you coerce the sounds out of him with every slurp around his cock.

The fact that he’s getting blown off on his best friends birthday by his big sister is something he doesn’t know whether to be turned on by or ashamed of himself, but he’s filthy and he doesn’t care.

His abs tense and his hips buck slightly as he feels himself getting dangerously close.

“Fuck, fuck i’m close..I’m gonna cum.” He hisses, trying to pull back on your hair so you don’t have to swallow.

But you push his hips back against the door and move your head faster, hollowing your cheeks. His legs nearly give out underneath him as he cums hard, spilling into your mouth.

When you stand up, look him in the eyes and swallow, wipe your mouth with your sleeve and push him aside, leaving him there with his dick out and soft, he knows he’s in love. Perhaps obsessed is a better word, but Eren is a hopeless romantic. He’d rather call it love, if love feels as invigorating as your mouth all over him.

[fryingpan1234567]

listen I knowwww Roach should be British. he was on a British task force. he’s got the flag on his uniforms. but when @fixfoxnox said southerner Roach I just couldn’t not love him okay leave me alone

anyways. southerner Roach shenanigans

(I guess you could call this a Something in the Orange fanfic since he’s besties with Jackson in this scenario as well as dating Ghost and Soap……… but it’s general enough it’s probably fine ANYWAYS)

Roach’s accent, while it normally only lightly flavors a few of his words, gets considerably thicker when he’s visiting home

I mean like he does the thing southerners do where they somehow mash entire sentences into one word and the others are just like “……….what” but Jackson is nodding like he understood

Like. They’re all at dinner together somewhere. Somebody brings up the rodeo at the state fair. The Europeans have no idea what they’re talking about. Roach just goes “y’ain’tneverheardadat??” and Soap nearly has a stroke trying to figure out what he meant but Jackson continues to eat soundly like he didn’t hear anything wrong

COWBOY👏 HAT👏 RULE👏

HELP

No no no they go to some random dive bar for one of their birthdays. It doesn’t matter whose. Jackson and Roach both have cowboy hats because OBVIOUSLY and like. They exchange this look that the others can’t figure out whenever one of their boyfriends steals their hat via flirting

(They tell them later and then can’t stop laughing while Soap and Ghost and Gaz are just sitting there like uh oh)

After that the hat stealing is very much purposeful

Square dancing to fucking Timber by Kesha and Pitbull in said dive bar because that’s just required idk what to tell you

Soap and Ghost seeing Roach ride a horse for the first time and visibly bluescreen

Roach recognizing people from high school in his hometown even tho he hasn’t seen them in like 20 years

He likes Taylor Swift but only her old country-adjacent stuff

Ghost and Soap couldn’t figure out his aversion to any kind of substitute milk until he took them home and they found out it’s because he grew up drinking milk that literally came from the cows he has in his backyard. They own two cows. And a few chickens. Very resourceful

Jackson and Roach dragging the 141 to Roach’s family’s Super Bowl party one year because in the southern states it’s a huge fucking deal

The Europeans being like “………this is quite possibly one of the dumbest things I’ve ever seen in my life” but their boys are having fun so it’s okay

God help the rest of them. Jackson and Roach are rooting for opposite teams.

There’s screaming, there’s wrestling on the living room floor, there’s spilling food and beer everywhere. The amount of rubbing it in after a touchdown lands is fucking crazy, and they’ve shouted about stabbing each other every single time

Eventually, maybe with a bit of googling, the others get into it. Soap hasn’t stopped shoving Mrs. Roach’s buffalo chicken dip in his face since he’d discovered it when they’d arrived, and Ghost was letting the kids use his tattoo like a coloring page while he chatted with Roach’s dad and brothers. Gaz kept getting elbowed in the ribs whenever Roach and Jackson tousled on the couch, and a couple times he was asked to hold Jackson’s beer so “I can kick some sense into this dipshit,” usually followed by Roach’s maniacal cackling. Price was banging around in the kitchen with Mrs. Roach. Nobody knew how he’d gotten dragged into that, but he seemed to be enjoying himself

On the topic of bringing the boys home to the fam oh my GODS thanksgiving

Ghost is not a dessert person. He’s never been a dessert person. But he had four slices of Mr. Roach’s apple pie, so,,,,,,,,, apparently he is actually a dessert person

Obvi Roach is good with all guns, but he was hunting with his dad and brothers by the time he was like six. He knows how to work a shotgun like he breathes

(Ahem being southern is why he’s so fucking stubborn btw if anyone was wondering)

Roach and Jackson both are religious Dolly Parton listeners

“DID U GUYS KNOW SHE WROTE JOLENE AND I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU ON THE SAME DAY—“

Ghost and Soap wake up one night because there’s a weird noise outside. They poke Roach awake like “???? what was that??” and he was just like “oh yeah the woods make noises sometimes. don’t worry about it. if something actually wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t hear it coming” and promptly passed back out

“Yea I’ve seen a skinwalker before” “FYM YOU’VE S E E N O N E ? “ “It was in my backyard?? Relax it just wanted the coyote that always tries to kill our chickens. I didn’t really mind”

Gaz suggests investigating a weird figure he saw in the woods. Roach laughs out loud and Jackson smacks him in the back of the head like “that’s how you fucking die you idiot”

“Y’all’re lucky we’re here to stop you from doing somethin’ stupid. Fuckin’ city slickers” “What did you just call me”

The deafening sounds of crickets and locusts puts Roach to sleep almost instantly every night. Ghost barely sleeps every time they visit.

”IT IS SO FUCKING LOUD IF ONE MORE BLOODY CRICKET—“ “Simon not everyone needs literal dead silence to sleep—“

No matter how many pillows he stacks on top of his head he can’t escape it

Oh. Oh. The Europeans CANNOT do southern heat. They’re passed out on the porch while Jackson and Roach and Roach’s brothers play football in the front yard

Roach makes killer lemonade and iced tea nobody talk to me

He has a rusty blue ancient pickup that he says is his baby. One of the wheels is misshapen and the bed squeaks dangerously every time they hit a pothole, but he won’t get rid of it EVER

Roach introduces Soap and Ghost to catching fireflies in jars with his nieces and nephews. They are. So in love with the concept.

It gets turned into a competition, because of course it does, and it looked like Ghost was going to win— but then the youngest of the participating children silently held up a jar that was too bright to look at and audibly buzzing from the amount of bugs inside of it. They cut their losses and embrace the fact that they’ll never be That Good

Southern👏 sunsets👏 there ain’t nothing like it

Soap has a sketchbook dedicated entirely to doodling Roach doing farm things

Roach had a horse he took care of in high school. Her name was Peaches and he literally cried when he found pictures of her in his room

Ghost LOVES the sweet old border collie Roach’s parents have. That dog has seen many a stampede, and he’s herded just as many. What a man. Ghost does not leave him alone Ever

gods fuck me bro I could literally talk about southern Roach F O R E V E R (idk if you can tell from the long ass post Jesus Christ)

good morning/ night/ 4am lmk if you want more of this

[littleadaline]

I Didn’t Know Where Else To Go [P.G6]

Warnings: Reader is unwell?? Angsty on the readers side??

Word count: 2.03k

A/N: wrote this while dealing with stomach flu, so it may be inconsistent or unpolished, sorry about it!!

A/N: Ramadan Kareem to all who partake in it!! May this Ramadan heal our hearts and bring our souls some much needed peace xx.

———————————————————

18:00

You had just gotten off the phone with the agency you had landed an internship with. After countless interviews and days of going back and forth to establish a schedule, you had finally received the green light for your internship. Grabbing your cat in your arms, you twirled around, letting a shriek of excitement.

“We did it Lucía!!” The ping of your phone stole your attention. It was Aurora.

[From Roro ✨🌸]:

Any news about the internship? I got a response for mine!

[To Roro ✨🌸]:

OMG RORO I GOT THE INTERNSHIP!! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT 😭 HBUUU?

[From Roro ✨🌸]:

ENHORABUENA AMIGA!! I GOT MINE AS WELL!

[To Roro ✨🌸]:

I’M SO PROUD OF YOU AURORA! I can’t wait for us to celebrate xx Is tonight any good??

[From Roro ✨🌸]:

Me too! Tonight is no good :( How about tomorrow?? I’ll ask Gavi to drop me off after his physiotherapy appointment.

Your face soured at the mention of Pablo. Pablo Páez Gavira was your friend’s little brother, and despite being the same age and having similar interests, you guys hated each other. You were always bickering, exchanging snarky and sarcastic remarks about one another. Pablo’s parents were deranged by their son’s behaviour, but Aurora saw something beyond the sarcasm and lack of agreement. She often teased the two of you, pushing you to at least pretend to like each other.

“If you end up even getting along with each other, you each owe me 20€.”

“Never.” Pablo responded, shooting the basket ball into the net.

19:00

In need to contain your excitement, you put on your shoes and left the house for a walk. Strolling around the neighbourhood, you admired the early sightings of springs; people keeping their windows open, the sound of music escaping onto the streets. The smell of dinner was not unfamiliar to your nose. You realized were near Pablo’s neighbourhood when you heard the ping of your email. The smile you had harboured for the last hour was quickly wiped away as you read the title of the email.

[Termination of your internship]

Dear Y/N Y/LN,

It has been brought to our attention by our hiring committee that it will be impossible for us to accommodate your personal schedule into the internship schedule. As such, due to the late application date and your uncooperative schedule, we are forced to rescind our offer for the internship. We wish you the best in your academic and professional career,

The Agency.

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Uncooperative schedule”? You knew your schedule was rather complicated, but at no point was the hiring committee bothered by it…nor had they said something either. You and the agency knew the weight this internship held for your final project this semester. If you couldn’t land an internship, you wouldn’t be able to hand in a project, and you’d automatically fail the class. Failing the class would mean you wouldn’t obtain your degree and your graduation would be delayed by a year as this class was only given during the winter. Something wet rolled from your cheeks and onto your phone screen. You didn’t know if it was tears or rain. You let your back slide against the street wall, an uneasy feeling taking over. You were hyperventilating, a million thoughts rolling in. Unable to think clearly, you ran to the only address you knew in this neighbourhood. Making it to the front of the house, you pounded at the door.

“Pablo? Pablo are you here? Please! Anyone?” You begged, sliding your body down the door as you cried uncontrollably. Your body was soaked from the rain, shivering as the wet clothes clang to you. 3 minutes had passed before rapid footsteps were heard and the door was opened in a hurry. You didn’t have the time to turn to look at whoever had opened the door before a pair of arms dragged you inside.

“Who’s that?” Pablo’s mom said, running into the entrance, apron still on.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Hey, hey, deep breaths. Look at me.” Aurora said, taking off your coat and shoes. Your chest was falling and rising at an alarming rate. Your sight was hazy as you fought tears.

“She’s freezing.” You felt Pablo’s mom dragging you to the bathroom upstairs, tears still streaming down your face. You were unable to stop. Aurora was behind you, frantically removing your soaked clothes. Pablo was following, still perplexed as to what had brought you to his house.

“I’ve got it from here,” Aurora held her hand in front of Pablo’s face. “Go get some towels and put them in the dryer for 10 minutes. Pablo do as I say or so help me God you won’t live to see another day. Now is not the time for your rivalry.” Aurora scolded her brother.

Pablo bit back his tongue, swallowing the comments he had. He obliged, rapidly jogging to his laundry closet before grabbing his fluffiest towels, and chucking them in the dryer. No matter how far back your rivalry went, he couldn’t help but feel worried about you. Your soaked clothes clinging to you, your face covered in a mixture of rain and tears, your sudden zombie-like state.

“Pablo? The dryer’s been done for 2 minutes now.” His dad’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

He grabbed the towels and ran upstairs before softly knocking on the bathroom door. The door opened slightly, enough for him to peak at your slumped figure on the bathroom floor, still stuck in a zombie-like state. You were left in your bra and underwear as Aurora and her mom worked tirelessly to calm you down. Pablo’s heart broke at the sight of you. He just wanted to take away that pain.

“How’s she-”, he mustered up to say before the door closed back on his face.

“Vale, hija, respira.” Pablo heard his mom softly say from behind the door. Defeated, he walked back to his room and rummaged through his drawers. As fun as the rivalry was, the current sight made him want to burn the entire world. He dug through his clothes until he pulled a matching sweatpants and sweater set. He put the set in a basket, heading to the guest room where he grabbed the fluffy socks he kept. He grabbed those before heading down to his laundry room and putting them in the dryer to warm them up. While waiting for the dryer to finish, he walked back to the kitchen where he poured you a bowl of soup, previously made with care by his mother, and boiled some water for tea. The dryer had been done for a few minutes now when he heard the sound of the bathroom door open. He ran, skipping steps, to hand the clothes to his sister. Aurora took the clothes without hesitation, simply thinking Pablo for his actions. Gavi knew you were soon going to come out of the bathroom, so he left the food and tea on the guest bedside table. Soon enough, Aurora helped you get in bed. You had regained some colour, your hair now clean and in a braid. You were wearing the set Gavi had warmed up, the clothes baggily hanging around your body. Gavi’s inner self breathed a sight of relief seeing you settled in bed, a more peaceful look on your face.

“I’m gonna help mamá clean up the bathroom. Make sure she stays warm and at least drinks the tea or eats the soup.” She patted him on the back before closing the door behind her. Gavi simply nodded, feeling the need for rivalry fading away.

“Vale…” Gavi awkwardly sat on the edge of the bed. “Do you want the tea?”

“Did you poison it Gavira?”

Gavi chuckled, taking your sarcasm as a sign of wellness.

“No, I didn’t. Tea or soup?” He tried to sound annoyed, but his newly found care for you betrayed him.

“Soup smells delicious. I could recognize your mom’s soup from miles away.” You laughed weakly.

Gavi grabbed the tray with the bowl of soup and approached the bed. He sat on the corner before bringing a spoonful to your lips.

“Mhhh…” you moaned in delight. “Gimme more.” You felt your body slowly regaining its strength. You sat up on the bed, Gavi feeding you one more spoonful of soup.

“Y/N, what happened? You had us all scared.” Pablo confessed, setting aside the bowl of soup.

You sighed, debating telling your newfound friend the truth.

“I…um. You know that class Aurora and I are taking? The one where we need to intern with a company related to the theme assigned to us? Well, if we don’t land an interview by the deadline, we automatically fail the class. And up until,” you checked your phone. “2 hours ago, I had an internship. Until I received an email telling me that they had to rescind their internship offer due to schedule issues. And if I don’t pass this class, I have to wait a whole year to retake the class. Which also means my graduation is delayed.”

“I don’t get it… How could they do this?” Gavi angrily asked. “What theme were you assigned?”

“Gavi… I’m not sure you can help in this situation…” Gavi’s eyes pierced through yours, desperately trying to uncover your secret. He had this kindness in his eyes, something you had never noticed before…. Maybe because you were too busy being at each other’s throats.

“What theme were you assigned?” He asked a second time.

“Media in sports…”

“You’re doing it with us and that’s final. I’ll contact the media department first thing in the morning. They don’t have any interns for this term, they should be able to accommodate you. I may have to twist Xavi’s arm for this, and sprinkle in some emotional manipulation, but you know the mister, he can’t say no to these puppy eyes.” He bragged.

Gavi fed you a new spoonful of soup, slowly taking more space on the bed.

“What brought you here?”

You almost chocked on your soup, the brutality of Gavi’s question taking you by surprise.

“Oye Gavira, are you trying to kill me with your brutal questions?” You heard Gavi laugh, something you never dreamed you’d be able to hear coming from him. “Since you want to know, I went on a walk to contain the excitement of the news, and I made it to your neighbourhood when I received the email. I guess my instinct just kicked in, and I ran to your house. I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go…” you said, defeated.

You heard Gavi put down the bowl on the tray before he shuffled closer, pulling you into a hug. Shocked, you simply laid there, your arms laid on your side. Your body turned on auto-pilot and you hugged him back. You didn’t know Gavi was capable of such signs of affection, especially not with someone he’s been bickering with for the last decade. On the other side of the interaction, Gavi’s mind was rolling at 200 km/h. *What are you doing cabrón? You’re supposed to hate each other. Let her go! Push her away! Wait, this feels natural, almost meant to be…*

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened to you. Aurora was boasting about how happy she was you obtained the internship with this agency. I can’t imagine how it must feel.” He whispered. You both stayed in a comfortable silence until he spoke up again. “You look tired, do you want me to leave?” He slowly got off the bed, but you pulled him right back down.

“Stay. Your presence is somewhat comforting. I don’t know what your mom put in this soup, Gavira, but it’s making you less… annoying.”You sighed, your eyelids growing heavier by the second. You heard Gavi laugh, a low but subtle chuckle, and smiled to yourself. Gavi was lying on his back, his arms crossed on his chest.

“Can I… Can I lay my head on your chest?” You asked him, your voice growing shy at the request.

Gavi was slightly taken aback, but nonetheless nodded, his heart fluttering at the thought of you being so close to him. He heard the sheets shuffle before he felt your head snuggle in on his chest. He swore right away in this moment that he was done with the animosity, the backbiting, the jokes. He was going to let you in. He was going to properly love you. He was going to cherish you. And in that split second, he realized he owed Aurora 20€, not that he minded anymore.

“Sleep tight nena.” Gavi’s hand found your hair, slowly stroking it.

[chvoswxtch]

Hi,

I had a request… I’m currently obsessed with Frank Castle (he’s just so 🥵) and had an idea, it’s not super original so I understand if you don’t want to write it!

A non-binary (they/she) character who is plus-sized and younger than him (in their mid-20s) taking him home to meet her family for the holidays. And she is very insecure and worried about how their family will react. Maybe while there, a family member says something hateful about her weight and/or being non-binary, and Frank goes to comfort/reassure her, and maybe even gets mad and defends her to her family?

Can be smut or just fluff (or both!)

I just thought it would be cute to see his more protective/caring side, mixed with his possessive and angry side. I love that dynamic (:

hello my love!

so i'm not sure if you've watched the bear (i'm still working through it myself) but there's a scene where jon flips a table and goes on a rampage and I just thought that was super fitting for this prompt so I drew a lot of inspiration from that & I hope you enjoy!

I also hope you're having a wonderful day or night wherever you are and that the holidays are being kind to you 🖤

warning: swearing, frank being frank word count: 1.5k

dessert.

It was so quiet in the cab of Frank’s truck, you swore you could almost hear the delicate noise of fresh snowflakes carelessly colliding with the windshield over the dull roar of the heat coming through the vents. The holidays were always a complicated time for you with your family. In the earlier months of the year, there was a welcoming sense of freedom to be exactly who you were without judgment. But when the colder weather started to seep in, so did the impending dread. All you had wanted to do was introduce your family to the man you had fallen in love with, and celebrate your first holiday together in a special way. You had anticipated a little bit of uncomfortable tension, prepared yourself for a few tasteless passive aggressive comments, but you didn’t think it would be this bad.

Bringing Frank home to meet your family hadn’t been the mistake. It was underestimating his protective nature and forgetting the caliber of his restless temper.

Things had already been off to a rocky start as soon as you walked through the door. Everyone’s eyes seemed to be shamelessly sticking to the way your outfit clung to the soft and full curves of your figure. The same outfit that had Frank nearly pulling over to the side of the road impatiently because he couldn’t keep his eyes ahead was currently the topic being whispered about by your aunts. However their attention was quickly stolen as soon as Frank walked in behind you. Their hushed gossip rang loudly in your ears, causing the confidence Frank had built up within you to fizzle out into insecure embers.

He’s so…normal looking. What’s he doing with her?

She’s not a her, remember? She’s…oh I forget what it’s called. Another complicated thing these kids have come up with. I swear it’s something new everyday. I can’t keep up.

He seems much too old for her, and look how fit he is. They seem way too different, there’s no way they’re actually dating.

It only got progressively worse from there. By the time everyone sat down to have dinner, it was like you weren’t even there. Everyone asked Frank a million and one questions, but no one asked you a single thing. No one asked how you were, or how the new job was going that you were so excited about. No one asked how you and Frank met, or how long you had been dating for. Everyone seemed to be trying to figure out the puzzle of what Frank was doing here with you, and eventually, you found yourself trying to solve that exact same riddle. It was almost incredible how your family managed to ruin all the trust and love that the two of you had built up over the past few months. All the promises of reassurance that flowed so easily from his lips seemed to vanish from your memory, and the quieter you got, the angrier Frank became.

He was polite at first, answering the simple questions with appropriate responses, but the more they tried to exclude you from the conversation, the more he tried to aggressively incorporate you into it. His frustration was evident in the way his voice became more rough and coarse, a detail only you were able to pick up on. That should’ve been the first warning bell in your head. But you were so wrapped up in your own insecurities that it didn’t occur to you to reach for his hand under the table to calm him like you normally did when he got worked up. Frank was doing his best to contain his rage at the way your family treated you, but one hateful comment from your alcoholic of an uncle about your weight caused him to erupt.

It all happened so fast, that you were stunned. Your uncle was in the middle of following up his weight comment with an insult about your non-binary identity when Frank suddenly stood and flipped the table out of his way so he could rush forward and strike his fist across your uncle's face. In a split second, everything had descended into chaos. Your mom and aunts were screaming, your father and uncles were trying to pull Frank off your drunk uncle, but they weren’t a match for his strength and tenacity. It wasn’t until you fought your way through them and tugged at Frank’s shirt in a panic that he finally relented and let you drag him out of the house.

For the past fifteen minutes, the two of you had been sitting in his truck where it was parked in front of your family’s house, both of you attempting to calm down. Frank was trying to quell his anger while you were coming down from the shock of what had just happened. The longer you sat in silence watching the waves of snowflakes caress the glass of the windshield, the more uneasy Frank became. Letting out a deep exhale through his large nose, he finally couldn’t take the quiet anymore.

“Look I…I didn’t…m’sorry, alright? Can you just…will you please say somethin’?”

“I can’t believe you flipped a table.”

Frank blinked in dumbfoundment a few times, his dark brows pinching together in the center of his forehead. He was expecting you to yell, to go off on him, maybe even break up with him right then and there, but not to hear you sound so amused about his explosive behavior.

“Huh?”

“That was ‘real housewives’ of you.”

When you finally turned to face him, he noticed the faint smirk on your lips, and that one little gesture eased all the anxiety that had been building up within him for the past fifteen minutes. He let out a puff of air through his lips, looking ahead as he shook his head slowly and glanced at his side mirror while trying to fight the crooked grin that threatened to spill across his lips.

“Yeah well, dinner was dull. Thought I’d spice it up a bit.”

“I’d say you spiced it up a lot.”

Frank turned his head to look over at you, and you could see a faint apologetic twinkle in his eye from the glow of the street lamp above.

“You mad?”

It was your turn to look at him in dumbfoundment. Arching one of your brows, you let out a soft laugh while tilting your head to the side in slight curiosity.

“Am I mad that you stuck up for me?”

“I coulda handled it better.”

Scooting over to the middle seat of the cab, you brought your hand up to gently caress his jaw while staring into his warm brown eyes with a soft smile.

“No Frankie, I’m not mad. I promise.”

Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his in a gentle kiss, letting him feel the sincerity behind your words. You weren’t mad at all. No one had ever been so protective or defensive of you before, and while some would’ve thought his reaction was a little extreme, you knew it was just Frank’s way of showing you how much he loved and cared about you.

“Thank you.”

“For ruinin’ the holidays with your family?”

“Baby, they were ruined before we even got here. And honestly, this is the best holiday season I’ve ever had, thanks to you. You made it special for me. It was probably a bad idea to come here, but I just wanted to show you off. Show them all how happy I was. I thought they would be happy for me-”

“Hey, to hell with ‘em. They don’t deserve to see that pretty smile after the way they treated you. That asshole’s lucky I don’t go back in there-”

“Frank.”

Letting out a soft laugh, you redirected his angry glare from your family’s house back towards you as you pulled him in for another soft kiss.

“Let’s just go home. We can order something in.”

Frank took one last irritated look at your family’s house, letting out a soft grunt of disapproval.

“Goddamn chicken was dry anyway.”

For some reason the frustration coveting his sharp features and the grumpy tone of his voice just made you laugh. Giving his thigh a gentle squeeze, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and smiled adoringly at him.

“We can have something else for dinner.”

Frank turned his head to look at you, his gaze wandering slowly up and down your figure before settling on your eyes once more. The ravenous look reflected back at you simultaneously sent a shiver down your spine and filled your lower half with a sense of heat. He reached out to place one of his large hands on your thigh, giving it a firm squeeze as his voice dropped to a husky whisper.

“Think I’m ready for dessert, sweetheart.”

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @kdogreads @heimtathurs @mars-rants-a-lot @casa-boiardi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @hazallem @avencol @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

[aclowntiny]

🎉Your Birthday With Seventeen🎉

A little special post I wanted to make for my special day! Where my fellow 10/20 babies at 😎 (Warnings: a few make suggestive implications because I think some members would be more inclined towards certain birthday ‘celebrations’ 👀😅 Also 노래방 = karaoke btw!)

S.Coups

He isn’t the type to surprise you- instead he tells you to get ready for a great day! He takes you shopping first, letting you fill your bag to your heart’s content and practically stopping you from putting anything down unless you insist you don’t actually want it. Books, clothes, collectibles, you name your favorite, Seungcheol buys you plenty more for your collection. You basically live out the Anakin and Padme meme when you ask that this is your gift, right? Nope, that’s the matching jewelry sets he got you because you said you’d wanted couple items! Since you guys spent the afternoon out anyway, it’s easy for the day to melt into a dinner together, the two of you holding hands across the table and reminiscing on memories that led to your latest year of life. Seungcheol wants to ring in your next year right, even if it means staying up all night!

Jeonghan

The party can be later- this day is all about keeping you to himself! Jeonghan can hardly keep his hands off you as he brings you to the living room where lights and blankets are all set up, all of your favorite movies laid out for your choice. You grin, but before you can sit down and get wrapped up he presents you with the beautiful bouquet he bought you, some of the most gorgeous flowers you’ve ever seen. Some extra decor, he explains to you with a satisfied grin that only grows wider as you pull him in for a kiss. Then it’s finally movie time, all your favorites and if they’re movies that make you cry, tissues at the ready on the coffee table. You better believe Jeonghan got you the cutest cake he could find for later in the day, one perfectly sized for the two of you since the next day you’ll have the big party cake! The cake is practically the one thing that distracts him from holding and doting on you to your heart’s content, hehe~

Joshua

Decides to throw you a surprise party just to see the look on your face when you walk in! He tells you where to come meet him to celebrate together, completely omitting the fact that all his bandmates and every friend or family of yours he could get over will also be there. In typical fashion, everyone exclaims ‘surprise!’ the moment you set foot in the room, and even if it gives you a heart attack at first you can’t help but beam at the effort Joshua put in to decorate the room, coordinate with everybody, and get your favorite snacks and meal to lay out for the party- all for you! You immediately pull him into your arms and thank him for going to the trouble, trouble he reminds you again and again was worth it. Just to hit home how thoughtful your gentleman is, he gifts you a matching bracelet alongside that one thing you’ve been hinting about wanting for a couple weeks!

Jun

Did somebody say themed party? Because Mr. Wen Junhui did! All of Seventeen’s antics over the years have taught him a thing or two about sticking with a concept and he can’t help but laugh at the mental image of you walking in on him and your friends dressed to match your favorite show or movie. Ok, not full cosplay, but something you’ll be sure to recognize from his clothes. He gets a cake with your favorite characters frosted on it and a plushie of something cute from it to have hold your flowers! The way the rest of Seventeen play along at his behest is heartwarming too, most of the members trying their best to be in character and do bits you’d recognize, all of performance line especially hamming it up for you! You get the most memorable pictures from it, especially when someone gets a piece of cake smashed in their face! All in all, you and Jun are laughing all night, your head falling to his shoulder and his hand taking yours and occasionally bringing it to his lips.

Hoshi

The moment he sees you you’re getting wrapped up in his arms, tumbled around or falling backwards if you’re on or over your bed or couch or spun in the air if you’re standing. His hand closes around yours and then you’re off, getting led on an adventure. Not a second is going to go by without love and fun, whether you guys are checking out the art popup that coincided with your special day or when you hit the slick track where he might just let you win because you’re cute! Soonyoung keeps talking about how your next anniversary or birthday you guys should go skydiving, only coming back down to earth from his reverie if you’re really scared by the idea! After a wonderful dinner, you two rent out a 노래방 and belt to your hearts’ content, swaying with arms around each other and singing a ballad as goody as you can together then getting completely sidetracked in the middle of the next song because you’ve started making out. Soonyoung is so the type to make sure you know that it’s your special day and you get him all to yourself allll day if you’d like 😘

Wonwoo

During the day, you guys can do whatever, but at night? It’s Wonwoo’s plan and he’s spoiling you! He got reservations to one of the nicest restaurants in the area and a new outfit for you to dress up with him- one that perfectly matches his suit, in fact. No expense is spared, candles faintly illuminate the table and you get everything you want to try even if you protest that it’s too much. Not today, Wonwoo reminds you. Normally your boyfriend isn’t one for PDA, but since it’s a special occasion he’s feeling the merriment, eyes extra loving as he gazes into your eyes, leans forward to press the occasional kiss to your cheeks. Beneath the table, his hand finds its way to your knee, idly tracing patterns as you enjoy the fine dinner and dessert. Wonwoo also has a gift waiting for you because, in his words, you’re a gift to him! But that you’ll have to wait until you get home for because it’s a two-part gift- one a bit more for him and one for you since he bought you a game you said you’d like to play together, but also got something you’d had your eye on for some time to make up for any bias in the first one!

Woozi

On your birthday, he wants to wake up next to you, so you stay together the night before- however that looks to you 😉 He doesn’t want to wake you, you look so beautiful even resting, but finally your eyelashes flutter as you wake, smiling at the sight of him and the way he tells you happy birthday in a low voice. He does all the things you normally do for him, gestures like getting breakfast ready and making the bed. There’s something symbolic, poetic even, about being in nature on a day of birth, so he’s keen on taking a walk or even a hike if you’re down to just admire any leaves or blossoms that are out or what endures strongly if it’s winter, comparing those things to you. Jihoon just can’t help himself, singing softly to you as you walk hand-in-hand, his eyes never leaving you. He tells you again and again what you mean to him as someone who lights him up after a long day, takes care of him and encourages him, and earnestly wishes his gifts to you will reflect that. It takes him by surprise when you pull him in for a kiss beneath one of the largest trees, but you can feel his little gape melt into a smile against your lips.

DK

It’s going to be a party all day! Seokmin plans the cutest day, taking you to the amusement park and taking literally every photo op he can. Backgrounds, photo booths, props, even paying for overpriced ride photos. Why, though? Because part of your gift is an adorable, sticker-laden scrapbook of your days together that fills your heart with joy just to look at! Next step is going out with friends for dinner, drinks, cake, the works. It’s a whirlwind of thrill rides, merry-go-rounds, and songs sung with all your favorite people, and all spent in your boyfriend’s loving arms, his smile wide and proud of one of the most wonderful additions to his life so far. Even at the end of it all, you can see how glad he is to have you back one on one because he’d been feeling a bit too shy to give you your big birthday kiss in front of everyone ❤️

Mingyu

Mingyu CANNOT STOP taking pictures of you all throughout the day, just giving you heart eyes at everything you do during your little day on the town. He tells you he can see why that outfit is your favorite, it looks so amazing on you. This guy is also soooo the type to take you all around and make sure to get a few smooches in when people are looking, too- that’s right, you’re his person! Cannot go .01 seconds without telling someone it’s your birthday so they congratulate you, whether it’s a waiter or the person ringing you up for the jewelry he buys you or who he gave the phone to to get a picture of you together. He just chuckles and pulls you in close if the attention embarrasses you, telling you with excitement that it’s your special day, so everyone should be celebrating you! But, he’s quick to remind you, none of them are going to celebrate you quite like he is later 😁

The8

He wants to start the day with you at sunrise, unless you really protest that you are not a morning person! On your birthday morning, you won’t have to lift a finger: Minghao is making you breakfast and tea, draping you in a cozy robe to come sit outside and enjoy it together beneath the rising sun. As you’re sitting there, he tells you all the things he appreciates most about you and wishes upon you for your new year. After that, he draws a bath for you guys before you get ready to tackle the day- whatever you would like that to look like. At the end of it all, he presents you with your birthday cake and gifts, your favorite of which is a gorgeous painting he made and framed just for you! He knows your favorite colors, subjects, what would match your home, and so he nails it. Speaking of nails, he practically has to physically restrain you from breaking out a hammer to hang it up right then and there, telling you in that soothing, seductive voice not now, love, tomorrow. We have plenty else we can do to enjoy your birthday tonight, right? You pout a little at that and all he can do is giggle and kiss you.

Seungkwan

He’s been hyping up your special day now for a while, hinting at a trip, so when you wake up the first thing out of his mouth beside ‘happy birthday’ is encouraging you to pack with wide eyes glittering full of excitement. Your destination, you learn, is Jeju, both of you having been missing the sea and yearning for a break from the city scene. Seungkwan knows all the best places to eat, the most beautiful spots to take pictures and see the water, so every moment takes your breath away, not to mention how sweetly he holds and caresses your hands and how passionate every kiss he gives you is. You stay the night right on the water, no expense spared even toward your night on the island together, however you’d like to spend it 😘

Vernon

Texts you or wakes you up at midnight if you’re together to give you wishes for the day the moment it starts and not a minute sooner. Since it’s your day, he really wants to take care of you, so you find Vernon being a lot more doting than usual, putting music on and taking the initiative to care for you in the bath or shower and do your hair. If you like painting your nails, he does yours and even lets you do his because hey, it’s your birthday what the heck? What a good excuse to have you be holding hands longer. You lay against his chest as he reads to you to while the afternoon away before your evening dinner and movie night, a classic date ending in a late-night drive where he pulls a cake out, lighting a candle for it and sharing it with you beneath the stars. His gift to you is a new pair of headphones, the best he could find, one of those necklaces with the position of the stars on the day you met, and roses cast in resin so they’ll never die, just like his love for you.

Dino

This man is going to whisk you away on a whole birthday trip, like you’ll practically have to stop him from buying plane tickets to fly you guys to Paris. In order to maintain some semblance of practicality, you talk him down to a getaway somewhere more accessible like a road trip or island feery. Wherever that lands, Chan walks you around with an arm around you, showing you off with a proud grin. Every ounce of his demeanor and high head says ‘look at my beautiful significant other’. He’s going to take you out for nice meals and dance with you on a bridge in the dim of night and put just a few too many candles on your blazing cake, making you laugh and capturing that photo before the one of you blowing them out with a wish in your heart and love at your side.

[floralcyanide]

˚₊✩‧₊◜kinktober 2023! ―

― day six ⛧ degradation

Sub!Jonathan Crane x Dom!Reader

Jonathan is starting to think he's on his high horse too much. He smarts off at you, making a big mistake. You take advantage of degrading and belittling Jonathan, and his ego is brought down to shallow depths.

warnings: smut, degradation, spitting, finger sucking, insults, dom/sub, sex toys, anal sex, anal fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), face-riding, cum eating, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, touchless orgasm

word count: 2208

author's note: yayaayay day six!! I love writing sub men especially sub jonathan ugh. please. my weakness. anyway, I hope everyone enjoys (; remember to read the warnings carefully before proceeding. (:

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

Jonathan has noticed that lately, he’s been a little snarky and bitchy- more than usual, anyway. He was bratty by nature, but he’s had an ego boost since snagging you. You’re perfect to him, and the fact he has someone as unique as you really gets him going. But it’s starting to exhaust him and cause issues at work, especially with colleagues. And the situation with this Rachel Dawes girl. Jonathan is sure he sent her to her death at the hands of Falcone and realizes that maybe his ego needs to be deflated. Especially if he feels challenged by a 20-something-year-old woman. Being in his thirties, Jonathan clearly knew better, especially as a professional. He brainstorms all day at the asylum, thinking of how to calm himself down and make his ego bruised to bring him down a notch. But he hits a wall, unable to come up with anything worth his time.

When Jonathan gets home, he’s frustrated with himself. He usually has great ideas, especially when it comes to degrading others and making them scared. But he can’t seem to come up with anything for himself. He grumbles as he hangs up his coat, tossing his keys into the dish by the door. He spots you curled up on the couch, reading a book. Jonathan notices the dishes you've yet to do in the sink from last night, and he rolls his eyes.

“I thought you were going to do the dishes today,” he frowns at you.

“Sorry, hon. I got invested in this book and haven’t thought about them,” you say sheepishly, “I’ll pop the dishes in the dishwasher after dinner tonight, okay?”

Jonathan doesn’t say anything and instead sits on the couch on the opposite end of you, flipping open his own book. You stare at him momentarily, waiting for him to say something. When he doesn’t, you clear your throat and resume reading. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, you finally sigh.

“Are you okay, Jonathan?”

“I am perfectly fine, dear,” he replies exasperatedly, with a hint of sarcasm.

You purse your lips, becoming slightly impatient with him.

“You don’t seem fine, but alright.”

Jonathan looks over at you with a sassy look on his face before he turns back to his book. You raise an eyebrow.

“Did I do something to piss you off, mister brat?” you ask snarkily, closing your book and crossing your arms.

“Of course not,” Jonathan says, more sarcastic this time.

You huff, snatching his book from his hands and slamming it onto the coffee table.

“Watch your attitude,” you say blatantly.

“Or what?” Jonathan scoffs, yanking his book back with an attitude in his movements, “You won’t do anything.”

“Says who?” you chuckle darkly, crawling onto Jonathan’s lap and straddling his hips.

“Says me,” Jonathan gives you a closed-lip smile, “Now hop off. I’m trying to read.”

You scoff, tossing his book on the side of the couch where you were previously sitting, “How about you lose your attitude?”

“Or what?” Jonathan asks sassily, tilting his head.

You reach a hand up and grip his throat, your thumb and fingers pressing into the sides of his neck as you lean close to his face, “Or I’ll fucking make you.”

Jonathan gulps, unsure of how to react. You’ve never taken control before. You have a dominant side to your personality, but you’ve never dominated him sexually. Maybe Jonathan being dominated would knock him down a peg?

“Oh really?” Jonathan breathes, “You won’t.”

You growl, shoving two fingers from your other hand into his mouth, squeezing his neck a little harsher to prove your point, “Shut up, little boy. You’re nothing but a brat, you know that?”

Jonathan says nothing and willingly takes your fingers into his mouth, sucking and licking around them with doe eyes. You thrust your fingers in and out of his mouth, glaring at him as he hollows his cheeks, the sound of him suckling your digits a delight to your ears.

“Now, be a good boy and lay on the couch, then take off your pants and underwear. I’ll be right back. Don’t touch yourself,” you threaten, climbing off Jonathan’s lap.

Jonathan nods, scrambling to lie on the couch, moving his book. You hurry upstairs to grab something and return to the living room. Jonathan is lying on the sofa, his legs spread to reveal his hardened cock and his plump balls to you. You smirk as you put your toy on the coffee table, Jonathan’s eyes widening a little at the item. You resume your place on his lap, opting to sit on his bare, milky thighs. You give his cock a few pumps, spreading the leaking precum around his tip. 

“So worked up from just me shutting you up, huh?”

“Sure, we’ll go with that,” Jonathan gives you a closed-lip smile, and you lightly slap him across the face.

“Don’t be rude,” you scold, “Or I won’t touch you at all.”

“No,” Jonathan says quickly, “Please touch me.”

“Why should I? What do you have to gain from it, hmm?” you slow your pace of moving your hand along his shaft.

“Because I’ve been bad,” Jonathan says bashfully.

“You’ve been a little bitch is what you’ve been,” you chuckle, “And little bitches get fucked until they learn their lesson.”

Jonathan gulps as you reach for your vibrator and sit it beside you, planning on using it later. You trace Jonathan’s face with a light finger before moving it to his lips, prodding them open to put your fingers back inside his mouth. 

“Suck. And get as much spit on them as you can,” you demand, pumping Jonathan’s cock faster with your hand tight around his length.

Jonathan nods vigorously, lapping his tongue around your digits and coating them with his spit. But it’s not enough.

“Open your mouth,” you say, removing your fingers.

Jonathan obeys, and you gather your own spit in your mouth before you spit it onto Jonathan’s tongue. He twitches in surprise but graciously accepts your saliva before you shove your hand back to his lips, letting him cover it in your added spit. 

“Good boy,” you whisper in awe at the sight of him closing his eyes as he bobs his head along your fingers.

You climb off his legs, shimmy off your shorts and underwear, and sit back down on his pelvis. Nudging one of Jonathan’s legs off the couch, you push his leg up and outward, “Grab your thigh, Jonny. And hold it open for me, okay?”

Jonathan follows your instructions, and you rub your clit to make yourself a little wetter in order to take him without a hitch. You grab his length and guide it into you as you lift your hips, moving them to suck him in to the hilt. You moan at the feeling of Jonathan filling you up, and you start riding him slowly. Spit still on your fingers, you circle Jonathan’s entrance slowly and daringly, turning around to gauge his reaction. His eyes are fluttered shut, his mouth agape as he breathes heavily. You circle his puckered hole faster, teasing it with the tip of your finger. Gently, you coax his asshole open with your index finger, pushing it in very slowly. Jonathan whimpers from behind you as you continue to slowly bounce on his cock. With your free hand, you massage his balls as your finger sinks deeper inside him. He squirms slightly, letting himself clench around your finger. 

“Taking my finger like such a good boy,” you praise, “Can you take another?”

Jonathan mewls, “Give me a second,” he gasps as you hook your finger slightly.

“Take your time,” you say sweetly, stretching him softly with your digit, pushing it in and out of him.

Jonathan moans as you fuck him harder with your soaked cunt, slowly entering another spit-coated finger into his tight ass. You manage to push it all the way in after a few moments, Jonathan a mess underneath you as his hips stutter. 

“So good,” you say, pussy clenching at the sight of Jonathan taking your fingers so well, “Finally shut you up, hmm?”

Jonathan moans in response, and you slowly hook your fingers inside him, scissoring your digits apart to stretch him out. Your boyfriend whines under you, his cock twitching pitifully inside your cunt. Grabbing the vibrator from next to you, you stick it in your mouth and suck it, letting your saliva coat it graciously. Pulling your fingers from Jonathan, he cries out from the lack of fullness. But you’re quick to press the toy against his hole, pushing it in slowly. 

“Fuck,” Jonathan moans pornographically, and you push it further inside until it hits his prostate.

You fuck him with it gently, letting him get used to it before turning the vibrator on. Jonathan yelps, his hips bucking into you harshly. Rocking your hips at a quicker pace, the sensation of the vibrator filling him up, as well as you fucking yourself on his cock, sends Jonathan reeling. He’s an absolute mess beneath you, wishing he had kept his sassy mouth shut because of the overwhelming feeling of pleasure. But also, Jonathan doesn’t regret the dramatic death of his ego right now. In fact, he’s relishing it. 

“How does it feel to be fucked by me?” you ask, breathless as you watch the vibrator go in and out of Jonathan’s tight hole, “To be humiliated and used like a little slut?”

“S’ good,” Jonathan manages to make out, bearing his hips down on the toy as you fuck him with it with vigor. 

You turn up the vibration setting two notches, and Jonathan twitches inside you, cumming hard and suddenly. His cum paints your puffy walls, filling you up. You turn off the vibrator and remove it from Jonathan, and he groans at the loss. 

“Bad, bad, bad,” you shake your head, tutting at your boyfriend, “I didn’t say you could cum.”

“I’m sorry,” Jonathan says quietly, tears pricking his eyes from the intense orgasm and the shame of cumming so soon.

“Now, you get the pleasure of me riding your face until I cum. Since I didn’t get to cum around your poor little cock,” you mockingly pout, pulling yourself off him and watching Jonathan’s cum weep from your pussy, “You’re gonna eat your own cum and like it. How does that sound?”

Jonathan wordlessly nods, unable to form a coherent thought in his head at the moment.

“Use your words, Jonny.”

“S-sounds good,” he says meekly.

You slide upward to rest your cunt on Jonathan’s face, and he immediately attaches his mouth to it, lapping up the mixture of your arousal and his cum with his tongue. He circles your clit, suckling on it as you let out a soft moan. You buck your hips to establish a rhythm with Jonathan’s tongue as he fucks it inside you. Jonathan starts to grow hard once more, and you watch as his length becomes slowly erect against his stomach. 

“Aw, is Jonny getting hard just from eating pussy? How cute,” you coo, “I bet you’re gonna cum all over yourself like the pitiful thing you are.”

Jonathan moans into you as a bead of precum leaks from his tip. You ride his face faster as the familiar warmth of pleasure spreads throughout your belly. You grasp your breasts, tweaking your nipples as your boyfriend skillfully nibbles your bundle of nerves. 

“Just like that, fuck,” you praise, tugging hard at your sensitive buds as your orgasm creeps on you, “Gonna make me cum after all, baby.”

Jonathan hums, the vibration sending you over the edge. You cum all over his face and tongue, and to your surprise, Jonathan’s cock spurts its own hot white load all over his stomach and chest. 

“I can't believe you just cum without me even touching you,” you chuckle, “How pathetic.”

You lean over and lick up his mess, playfully licking and biting his hardened nipples before dismounting his face. You take a deep breath before gathering the toy and telling Jonathan you’ll return in a second. When you return to the living room, Jonathan still lies haphazardly on the couch.

“Are you okay?” you ask, picking up your underwear and sliding them back on.

“Yeah,” Jonathan sighs, “I needed that.”

“I can tell,” you smirk, “You’ve been a dick lately.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says, “I was thinking about it earlier and couldn’t come up with a solution to bring me back to earth. But it seems you came up with a solution on your own.”

“Sure did. Been thinking about doing this for a while anyway.”

“I didn’t know you were into being dominant,” Jonathan raises his eyebrows, and you offer him his underwear to put back on.

“It’s not something I do a lot, but yeah. I think it’s hot,” you grin, sitting on his lap.

Jonathan exhales through his nose, studying your face. He smiles briefly before stroking your cheek, “How about we take a bath and go to bed, hmm?”

“Sounds good,” you say, “Gotta get your bitchy self all clean.”

Jonathan snorts at that. Dinner and the dishes are long forgotten, and a nice, warm bath is drawn.

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[anangelwhodidntfall]

Mermaid In The Water: Tonowari

Avatar Masterlist 

word count: 1.5k

Request: I would like to request something you don't have to if you don't want to but can you do one where the reader is a Navi from Pandora and had a crush on Jake but Jake was already with Neytiri so the reader leaves to go to the reefs of Pandora before the Sully family goes there, and when the Sully family gets there the reader is with tonowari instead of Ronald being with tonowari. I know it's a lot to ask but I've been thinking about this for days

You really thought you had a chance with Jake Sully I mean how could you not he was always sweet, giving compliments and flowers, and touches, and with his attractiveness it wasn't hard for a crush to form. You always looked forward to seeing him every day, he was the highlight of your day until that evening at dinner when reality slapped you in the face. You had gotten dressed up to impress Jake, only to see him and Neytiri kissing and flirting at the dinner, you thought you were gonna be sick so you got up and left. 

You cried your eyes on the way home and eventually fell asleep until you woke up due to the noise.  You sat there thinking about what to do and since there was no you could stay here and be happy,  so you packed up your things and loaded them on your ikran and left in the night without telling anyone. You traveled for many days and nights until you encountered a strong thunderstorm making it impossible to fly in and you remember something spooking your ikran causing your fall and that was the last thing you remember.

"Where I am?" You asked looking around not too sure where you were.

"You are in Awa'atlu. It's a village off the Eastern Sea, you were found washed up on the beach unconscious." A voice said making you turn and see someone that looked like an Olo'eyktan of the clan.

"My...Ikran? Is she okay?" You asked remembering the strong winds and the fall into the ocean.

"She is. I'm Tonowair, the Olo'eyktan." He said offering you a hand to shake.

"I'm y/n, formerly off the Omatikaya clan." You said to him.

"And that brings me to my next question what is someone from the Omatikaya clan doing all the way out here?" He asked you.

"I don't have any family left there anymore. I was looking for a new place to start fresh." You said as he frowned there was no way he was going to let you go back into the world alone.

"You are more than welcome to stay here but you would have to learn our ways if you decided to do so." He said.

"I would like that. Thank you so much Olo'eyktan." You said bowing your head.

"Please just call me Tonowari. We will get a Mauri set up and everything while the healers finish looking over you.

Now almost twenty you and Tonowari were happily mated and you had found your place in the Metkayina Clan as a teacher. Sure you missed your friends back in the forest but this was your home now and Jake Sully was a distant memory or so you thought.

You were out in the water playing with some of the village children when you heard the sound of a meeting horn meaning something important was happening on land. You passed them off to your assistant knowing your presence was needed on land with your mate.

"Ma, Tono, what is going on?" You asked walking up to him as he laced his hand with yours.

"Ma y/n, Jake Sully and his family have come here to seek shelter." He said making you look up at that name you hadn't heard in a long time.

Your eyes landed on a much older Jake and Neytiri and their children standing in the middle of the beach with the whole clan standing around them looking at them in curiosity.

"Y/n?" Neytiri asked shocked.

"Y/n is that really you? We thought you were dead. It's been almost..." Jake started to say making you squeeze your mate's hand which didn't go unnoticed by Jake.

"20 years, I know. You know you can't bring your war to our island, we won't allow it." You said as you watched Neytiri sigh.

"We aren't. I'm just trying to keep my family safe. Please y/n, we have nowhere else to go, you know you can trust us." He said as Tonowari turned and looked at you.

They were granted sanctuary and were shown to their mauri's while you went back to your own to process everything that just happened. You took a seat inside and heard the footsteps of your mate enter and shut the flap to your mauri so you guys could have some privacy, he took a seat next to you and reached for your hand.

"Ma y/n, how did Jake Sully know who you were?" Your mate asked once you were in the privacy of your home.

"He was the man I was in love with before I ended up here." You said quietly as Tonowari process your words.

"I thought he might have liked me back but he was already with her so I left because I knew I could never be around him without being sad or I don't know how to better explain it." You said wiping your cheeks.

"You knew you could never find love as long as you were around him. I get it ma y/n. I can send them away if it's too much for you." He offered.

"No don't do that. I no longer harbor any romantic feelings towards him, I was over him after our first date, I have someone so much better in my life and as my mate." You said pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"I'm glad that I found you too. You are the love of my life ma y/n." He said placing a kiss on your lips.

Jake had been anxious to talk to you since he saw and heard that you were alive and apart for years he had thought you were taken by the RDA or were dead. He had found you talking with a few members of your clan, he approached you nervously but you gave him a soft smile as you excused yourself from your group.

"Come walk with me? I know you have questions." You said to him.

"Y/N what happened to you? You just up and disappeared one date without a note or anything. For the last twenty years, I thought you were kidnapped or dead, but you were here this whole time?" He asked you.

"I know Jake and I'm sorry but I needed to do it for my own reasons. I could never stay there with the people with you specifically while being in love with you when you already had a mate, I need to go somewhere new and find my own happiness which I did." You said shocking Jake as he had no idea you were in love with him.

"You were in love with me?" He asked you.

"I was. I had a crush on you and thought you might have liked me back and no idea you were with Neytiri until I saw you guys that night at the dinner before I left. I was so heartbroken but I wasn't mad at you or anything, I should've known an attractive guy like you would already have a mate." You said to him.

"Y/N you are a beautiful girl but I'm sorry if I ever gave you that impression that I liked you back and for not telling you about Neytiri sooner." He said.

"Jake it's alright really. Things worked out the way they were supposed to, you and your family will be safe here." You said squeezing his hands.

"Thank you for that y/n. I hope that maybe we can try to rebuild our relationship now." He asked you.

"I would like that Jake." You said as you heard your name being called by one of the children you taught as you excused yourself.

"How did it go with Jake today?" Tonowari asked as you guys got ready for the community dinner.

"It went well, we talked about everything and we agreed to start our friendship over." You said to him.

"That will be good for you guys, I know how much you missed your people but I am glad you ended up here." He said placing a kiss on your lips.

"Me too. I love you ma Tonowari." You said smiling at him,

"I love you more ma y/n." He said.

Later on during the dinner, Jake watched how you and Tonowari talked and smiled constantly and he could practically feel the love radiating off of you two. Even though it had hurt that you left the way you did, he was glad that you had found your own happiness here.

[tgmsunmontue]

More than movie magic... 20/24

Hangster AU. Explicit (eventually). Jake is a Hollywood actor and Bradley is a stunt coordinator. Jake's about to make a few self-discoveries. So is Bradley.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN

Chapter 16 is pretty much the only explicit chapter (so far), so you can skip it if you like, but it's not explicit by my standards, and it's very soft/tender.

CHAPTER TWENTY

                Bradley’s used to the way Pete and Tom arrive and approach large gatherings, including movie sets. Pete is loud and brash, draws the eye and attention from nearly everyone. Tom arrives quietly, silently and makes his presence known to only a select few people that he wants to talk to. His name is very well known, but how he looks is lesser known, especially since he got sick. He’s better now, back to the size and shape Bradley remembers from his childhood and not the gaunt skeleton of a man he was for a few years.

                Pete is busy talking with Marcia and Arnold, and he knows any time they made up for this morning is now likely to be wiped out if he can’t get Pete distracted with something. It’s well after lunch, and he’s not had a chance to get more time with Jake, although they’ve caught each other’s eye and smiled at each other plenty. He’s ignored the retching sound Natasha made each time, telling her to grow up, which Rueben had agreed with. Bob had wisely kept silent. He hasn’t seen Tom, and the fact that he can’t spy Jake either is making his fingers itch.

                Jake can look after himself.

                He heads over to rescue Marcia and Arnold from Pete.

…            …            …

                Jake leaves Tom with his dad, after he makes Jake promise that he will bring Pete and Bradley both for dinner. He hopes his dad is going to be the one to tell his mom, because he does not want to be around when she hears she has two guests for a meal that she hasn’t prepared, and doesn’t know she has extra guests for. Bradley is one thing, someone he’s pretty sure his mom would have swept under her wing regardless of how Jake felt about him. Pete and Tom are a different ball game. He guesses his dad is lucky she loves him the most.

                He drives back to the set, knows he’s fucked up the filming schedule but also hopes that Pete Mitchell has maybe bought him some time with his sheer presence and fucked it up even worse. He jogs over to where Bradley is talking to them, clearly trying to coax Pete away from whatever he’s talking about with Marcia and Arnold.

                “Pete. How about you come and do some riding. Must have been a while right?” Bradley says, and Jake raises an eyebrow at Bradley where Pete can’t see him.

                “Oh! Yeah! That’d be great.”

                Jake promises to be right back, and Marcia looks torn between pissed but also relieved that they’re removing Pete. Arnold just looks resigned to his fate.

                “Can he actually ride?” Jake asks under his breath, and Bradley grins at him, bright and warm and Jake can’t help the smile in response.

                “Who do you think taught me? Bad habits and all. At least I don’t have his fashion sense.”

                “Uh,” Jake doesn’t know what to say to that, because while Pete might be a little eccentric in his styling choices, he definitely has his own style. Bradley seems to live in Hawaiian shirts unironically. Worse, Jake likes it. A lot. He keeps his mouth shut.

                Freddie comes running over and listens attentively as Jake asks him to help Pete saddle up, and to take him to the main house if he wants to see Tom, or even take him riding around the ranch if that’s what Pete wants, which Bradley is nodding frantically and subtly trying to give a thumbs up to behind Pete’s back. They watch as Freddie and Pete ride off, Freddie chatting away in response to one of Pete’s questions and he can feel the tension coming off Bradley in waves.

                “You okay?”

                “Yeah. Just… parents you know?”

                Jake raises a disbelieving eyebrow, because Bradley has met his parents now, knows what Jake’s dealing with in terms of a family that is determined to be involved in his life through thick or thin, meddles with the best of intentions, loves him and want what’s best for him. And also aren’t afraid to hit him upside the head if they think he’s being stupid. Bradley clearly reads his expression well enough and laughs, gives him a quick hug and then jerks his head back at the arena.

                “We better get back.”

                “Yeah. Filming. You’re coming for dinner again though.”

                “Am I now?”

                “Well, your… uh, Tom is there. I took him to just have some peace and quiet while Pete wrecked havoc.”

                “Oh. Nice. Wise move. He’ll have appreciated that.”

                “Yeah. Left him talking with my dad.”

                “Okay. I think they’ll get on.” Jake hums in agreement. Is pretty sure they could sit in silence and both come away of thinking they had a good talk. “How about after we finish up, I have a shower and then you pick me up and we go and face this ordeal together?”

                “Bradley…” Jake murmurs, because Bradley hasn’t stepped away, has his arm around Jake’s waist as they walk, his mouth close to Jake’s ear.

                “We could shower together,” Bradley offers and Jake definitely likes the idea of that.

                “We could. But then I’d have no motivation to go to dinner at all. We’d just end up in bed. Also it’s not going to be an ordeal. It’s dinner with my parents. We did that already.”

                “Yeah. Without Pete and Tom there. Trust me, Pete just dials the drama up.”

                Jake has to agree that he’s probably right.

…            …            ….

                Bradley showers quickly, rinsing off the dust, sweat and sand from the day. Again he dresses casually, unable to dress up in anything more because he doesn’t have anything even slightly dressy with him. He hears a knock on his door and he pulls it open to find Jake, looking fresh and like he’s ready to head to a photo shoot.

                “God you look good.”

                “You too. Shame we just can’t go back to my trailer…”

                “Later right?”

                “Oh yeah. Definitely later.”

                He presses a quick kiss to Jake’s lips, hopes he can read more into the gesture than just a simple kiss. They drive the short distance to the main house and the truck is thrown into park.

                “Into the breach, Macduff!”

                “No… no. Not a tragedy,” Jake says, although he’s clearly amused. “Don’t waste your love on somebody, who doesn’t value it…”

                “Romeo and Juliet is still pretty tragic,” Bradley muses, wracking his brain for a quote because Jake’s sentiment isn’t something to be joked about. He knows that much. “One half of me is yours, the other half is yours, mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours, and so all yours.”

                Jake is just staring at him, mouth slightly open and eyes wide and Bradley reaches over and gives him another soft kiss.

                “Jake Patrick Seresin! You get your ass out here right now!”

                He jumps at the yelling and he looks at Jake with wide eyes. Jake in wincing, rolling his eyes and thumping his head back on the headrest.

                “She just full-named me and swore. This is not going to be pretty.”

                “If I come with you will that make it better or worse?”

                “Better for now but worse much later. Just… give me a few minutes?”

                “Of course. You know Pete and Tom are in there right?”

                “If she kills me I trust you to avenge me…”

                “Drama drama. She won’t kill you.”

                “No. She’ll just make me wish I were dead.”

                Bradley laughs and shakes his head, pushes Jake toward the house.

                “Go! Before she gets angrier!”

TWENTYONE

[rippersz]

Miranda Priestly and f Reader. Reader gets in between an altercation between Miranda and Stephen. She later tells Miranda "I'll never let anyone talk to you like that again"

𝙰 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚞𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

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(Fem!Reader x Miranda Priestly) (Pining) (TW: Abusive language)

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“Oh give me a break! You don’t have to make up excuses to try and salvage my ego, Miranda!”

The minute you walked in, you knew something was wrong.

The townhouse air in the evening was usually still and quiet, but the stomping footsteps on the second floor provided a tension that made you pause in the foyer. Stephen was home, you realized. His weird manly cologne filled your lungs, nearly bringing tears to your eyes with how strong it was. Almost a year as Miranda’s assistant, spending time around her husband at least once or twice, and you still couldn’t get used to his smell. Probably because every little thing about Stephen was either utterly boring or terribly annoying. Emily said it was both, but she only expressed that when he called so frequently that Miranda told her to instantly send them to voicemail. ‘If he has something important to say, he’ll leave a message’ but every time he did, it was just a stream of complaints.

If you were in his shoes, something you didn’t think about often because why would you, then you knew you wouldn’t take her attention for granted. She gave it when she could and a loving partner would understand that, and such understanding would lead to a lack of tension, and a lack of tension would result in more of her recognition. Or that’s what you thought. Again- not that you thought about it frequently of course - cuz that would just be silly and unrealistic and strange because she was your boss and she was the most emotionally unavailable woman you knew and even though she loved her daughters, her love for her partners was different and-

“I can’t go one day without them shooting looks at me- like- like I’m some dog! Probably wondering where my keeper is!” His voice echoed upon every floor, making you wince as you slid the Book into its assigned place.

Evidently, they hadn’t heard you come in. They should have been expecting you; at least Miranda should have, but it was easy to lose track of time during the winter months. It seemed to move so quickly, with a prime example being that it was 11:20 on the dot once you got there. Miranda had to attend a small dinner party at 9, so she eventually returned home at 10:30. Not the worst timing for a Friday night, but if Stephen had been ranting from the very moment she stepped in, well then you had no doubt she was tired. Too tired to argue perhaps as you barely heard her murmured response.

“We can discuss this in the morning. It’s late.” She sounded worn. It made your heart ache as you looked up at the ceiling, momentarily debating if you should stay or leave.

“Oh yeah? Just so you can escape back into your job to try and distract yourself from the real issues? Stop acting like a child, Miranda. We’ll talk about this now like adults.” The way Stephen ‘put his foot down’ was nothing in comparison to Miranda’s method. He was too loud about it - too demanding. It wasn’t very effective, even though it did make up your mind for you.

Staying was risky, of course. You could get caught, of course. You could get fired, of course. But honestly? You didn’t trust your boss’s husband. You didn’t trust his demeanor or his drinking or any other little thing about him. And although you didn’t think he would really hurt her, the worry that planted itself in the back of your brain grew swiftly; festering like a disease as you inched yourself toward the stairs and placed your hand on the cold bannister. Worrying for your boss was not your place, but above that, worrying for Miranda Priestly was not your right. You weren’t hers and she wasn’t yours - so there was really no need to stick around. She was entirely capable of taking care of herself.

…And yet?

And yet, something in your gut told you to stay. It was quiet but present - and it murmured softly, convincing you that the second you stepped out of the door and got into the car with Roy and drove off into the night, something would happen. Something bad. Something that you could have avoided if only you were there.

So no, you couldn’t leave. Not yet. Even though Miranda was most likely prepared to tear Stephen a new one.

“I am acting like a child? Calling your wife at 9:45 PM to complain about her absence at a dinner you didn’t confirm is far more childish than me doing my job. What did you expect me to do when you called? Run out of an important business dinner to dash over and wipe your tears before drowning my embarrassment in an overpriced ‘welcome bread basket’? Don’t be absurd, Stephen. You knew I was busy.” And she proved you right - speaking in a low edgy hiss that you suspected was only reserved for her husband. Interestingly enough though, even alone in her house, arguing with this person or the other, Miranda never raised her voice.

No one else thought it was noteworthy enough to mention in quiet conversation, but you were often tempted to bring it up to Nigel. You figured it was because of her childhood - whatever that had been like - and that she vowed to keep her vocal cords safe. It was a small little detail, but when one conversed with Miranda, sometimes it seemed like the only thing to focus on. Her words are always important, yes, but watching her lips move… and seeing the way her teeth formed each syllable… well it was mesmerizing in a way you’d never be able to properly explain. And Stephen, who was pacing the floor above you, was far too daft to understand that.

“What, so if I want to have dinner with my wife, I have to confirm through her assistant? You barely pick up, Miranda!” The sudden growl in his voice had you placing one foot on the stair next to you.

‘This is just a precautionary measure’ you told yourself, knowing that was far from the truth.

“And you pick up too often.” Her quip was breathy and sharp - a clear end to the conversation as you heard her soft footsteps trailing off into another room.

“What does that even mean?! I’m trying to be a good husband, but you are ruining my reputatio-”

“Your reputation?” The venom in Miranda’s voice silenced her husband immediately. “Your reputation…,” you pictured her shaking her head before letting out a little mocking laugh; “…I have no effect on how much you succeed in your career. If you can’t separate work and life, that’s not my problem.”

Their voices were drifting away, lost to the floorplan of their home as you slowly skirted your way up the stairs. It seemed that Miranda had taken your common sense with her when she walked off, leaving Stephen (and you) to follow like lost puppies. Although, she still didn’t know you were there. And you still weren’t going to leave - not until he stopped raising his voice and waking the entire neighborhood.

“God you know- you always treat me like shit, Miranda.” You winced, knowing very well how much she hated cursing. “I am your HUSBAND. You should be speaking to me with respect - not like I’m another worthless magazine you can get rid of. I’ve given you EVERYTHING I have and what have you given me? A few hours of your time? Nothing? Just enlighten me, because I’m really at a loss right now!”

There was a bang then. It was strong and hard and it sounded like he hit something- maybe a side table or a wall- but it didn’t matter to you. He had hit something and if he could hit something- an inanimate object- he could hit his wife and if he hit his wife, he could hurt her and you couldn’t just stand there- you couldn’t just listen to his slander when his wife was giving him everything!; when she was providing and taking care of the children and doing her job all at the same time. You gulped, noticed that you had gravitated up to the second floor, and decided in a split second that if Miranda had anything to say, you’d simply come up with an excuse.

Then, as you listened for where they had gone, you heard hurried footsteps coming back toward the stairs.

“Don’t ignore me, Miranda! Stop hiding behind your job and just admit that you don’t give a fuck about us! I try so hard every day and every night and all you can do is- is- is whore yourself out to those fucking businessmen!”

The gasp that bubbled up in your throat escaped without hesitation. You had never heard anyone talk about Miranda like that - and especially not to her face. If anyone else had spoken so wickedly, you were almost certain that they’d be blacklisted from every bloody establishment in New York City, whether it had to do with fashion or not. But Stephen… well you knew that she had her own reputation to protect - and an escaping husband was not ideal.

But still…

Still…

She didn’t deserve that. And the injustice that had sparked earlier welled up like water boiling over the lip of a full pot. How dare he? How dare he speak to her like that? Your hands balled into fists at your sides; painted nails digging into the skin of your palms.

“Still nothing to say? Huh?!”

A split second later, followed by the sound of Stephen’s yelling, Miranda walked around the corner.

And there your eyes met.

She looked tired at that moment… and small… and utterly incensed at the idea of you being there and witnessing that. The shock played out on her face in the span of a millisecond; with a wide blue gaze and perfect lips parted and sculpted eyebrows raised onto her forehead - which was half covered by a swooping waterfall of messy white hair. It was beyond clear that she was ready for bed and that Stephen was just prolonging her suffering, but you sent a silent prayer to the gods asking to keep your job just before her husband showed up. His hands were on his hips, his face was screwed up into a tired and angry frown, and upon seeing you- he let out a loud scoff.

“Are you kidding me?!” His yell was right in Miranda’s ear but she didn’t seem to care. She didn’t even flinch.

Instead, she was staring right at you. At you. With some sort of fury- some sort of strange deep emotion- swirling around in pearlescent eyes. You felt your knees grow weak but held your ground. If she was going to yell, let her yell. If she was going to coldly dismiss you, let her coldly dismiss you. But at the end of the day, the longer you stared, the more you knew that she knew. That she understood. In the strange telekinetic way that most women shared - the concern that compelled you to stay was reflected in her gaze. And there, in the lull of irritation and tension, was a conversation that only the two of you shared.

It was spoken softly, slowly, and through your eyes alone.

‘I stayed because I was scared for you.’

‘I know.’

‘Are you mad at me?’

‘I don’t know. This wasn’t your place.’

‘I understand. I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.’

‘I can handle myself.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘…I know.’

“Did you plan this? Is that why she’s here?! What- did- did you call her? To witness us fight? See I knew you were fucking crazy! From day one I told myself ‘Stephen don’t get involved with her’ and now look where I am!”

Your silent conversation was snapped in half as he ranted; all while shoving past Miranda to walk further into the hall and throw his hands up in the air like a kid. You felt your body jolt at the sight of her being pushed, but like the impenetrable wall she could be, your boss stood her ground and allowed her husband to brush past her shoulder. As if there wasn’t force in the way he walked. As if you weren’t this close to throwing a punch.

And Miranda could see it in you. She could see the irritation- the sense of injustice and everything that came with it- but she also knew you wouldn’t do anything. You were too kind. Too understanding.

Well… unless someone like Stephen said what he said next.

“You know what? No. I’m done. You listen to me right now,” and then he rounded on your boss, walking right up into her space so quickly that you couldn’t help but push yourself to get closer. And from where you stood then, you saw the way he pushed his finger into her chest and seethed with an unnecessary amount of rage.

“You listen and you learn. I have had it up to here with your bullshit. The cold shoulder, the missed dinners, the terrible schedules, the fact that you don’t even care if the twins like me or not - I’m sick of it. You treat me like an accessory. Another bag for the queen of fashion to throw out but guess what. Guess what, Miranda! I don’t care anymore. We’re separating - and you’re gonna end up like all of the other sad washed up celebrities: Pathetic and- and- weak and alone. Because no one- no one- could possibly love you like this,” and you watched with disgust as he shook his head and let out a cruel laugh. “No one could possibly look at you, with your stuck-up bitchy behavior, and see something worth loving. And-”

Before he could continue, you heard yourself speaking.

“You are absolutely pathetic.”

Two sets of eyes turned on you - one of them confused and the other severe, silently telling you to just shut your mouth. Normally, you would. Normally, you’d listen to your boss and obey her commands- silent or not- because you appreciated her authority and you were halfway in love with her. But it was for that last reason, the very reason why your ribcage felt like a zoo butterfly exhibit, that you decided not to listen. Sure, Miranda would hear your angry love-sick quips, but that didn’t matter. You were going to spill your heart out onto the floor, take a page out of your boss’s book…

…and kick Stephen’s ego into the dust.

“What did you just say?” His eyes were disbelieving as he turned to you; and though a twinge of fear dug at your heart, you pushed on.

“You heard me. You’re pathetic. Pathetic and weak and honestly? Really really embarrassing. It’s no wonder she doesn’t wanna spend time with you. Aside from being the busiest person on Earth and providing you with a roof over your head, she has kids and a job to maintain. But it’s fine- it’s fine!, because you get to complain and she doesn’t. Because you think she owes you everything, but she doesn’t. And she never did. And she never will.” You weren’t sure when you had gotten so close to him, but the backwards step he took gave you enough confidence to continue. “And if you think you mean anything to her, above her children, above her passion, then you are so sorely mistaken that it’s almost funny. Because me, and so many others, have seen how much Miranda cares about those closest to her - and if she’s not making you better, then you’re clearly not worth her time. But maybe if you exercised some more respect, maybe if you showed you cared, she’d bother to call you back and she’d bother to act like your wife. But you don’t do that. So why should she show you what you don’t show her? Huh? Why should she love you when there’s other people out there- when- when there’s people like- like Nigel, like Emily, like me,” you took a deep breath, nearly choking on your words because you were talking so fast, “who would give her the world if she asked for it. Who would do anything to have her attention. So- so why should she love you when you take it for granted? When you, who gets it for free, don’t have to bend over backwards for her affection? When- when- you- you attend events with her, you have dinner with her, she calls you darling! And you take it all for GRANTED - BECAUSE YOU JUST DON’T CARE!”

Your eyes were most likely bloodshot. Your body was shaking. Your head was pounding and your heart was in your throat.

But Stephen looked shocked, having taken more steps backward toward the stairs as you approached him like a blood-thirsty lioness. And at that, watching the way his hand scrambled for the banister, you felt a strange twist of pride creep throughout your heart.

…But it wasn’t enough. You wanted him gone. So you cleared your throat, straightened your spine, and sniffed.

“That’s enough.”

Of course. Miranda cut in, her cool voice dousing your rage like a bucket of water over burning coals; dragging you back into yourself from where you had gotten lost in the clouds; reminding you that you weren’t supposed to be there in the first place. That you were just an assistant. Just a young woman who had stepped out of line to try and protect a woman who didn’t really need it. And instinctively, as though you had been slapped in the face or tugged by a leash, you backpedaled until Miranda’s soft footsteps came over and her back faced you. Stephen’s expression was hidden.

“…I’ll contact Leslie in the morning,” her voice was soft… introspective… distant in a way that made you nervous. “Until then… find somewhere else to spend the night.”

And things grew very quiet.

The only sounds you heard were the bustle of the city and the individual breathing of the three of you. Everything else was silent. The rest of the house, empty without Patricia and the twins (all of which were visiting their grandparents), felt like a movie set with a hidden audience. As though, at about any minute, the credits for the end of the episode would roll and you, Miranda, and Stephen would let out sighs of relief and walk off set and go get cups of water and coffee. But even as you stood there, trying hard not to tilt to the left to watch Stephen walk downstairs and out of the house, you knew what had happened was no fun and games. No, you’d definitely be facing consequences once he was gone.

And finally, after a few more moments of prolonged silence, his footsteps were going down the stairs and into the foyer. Your eyes traced the contours of Miranda’s silk shirt, watching the way it flowed over her shoulders as she walked closer to the staircase to watch Stephen go. One minute- two minutes- and then the front door was opening and closing behind him…

…and silence fell again.

You swallowed, feeling as though you had suddenly been thrown into the center of the sun. The heat of your embarrassment was excruciating - and if Miranda turned around, she’d spot the blush on your cheeks instantaneously. But that was a strong if, because she hadn’t just yet. Nope, instead, she stood staring at the door, letting the air settle. And you weren’t going to interrupt that, so you kept your mouth shut and tried to rationalize mentally.

If she asked, you’d just tell her the truth. That the world got crueler each day and it was in your nature to worry and that no wife should ever come face to face with a furious partner - at least not without the chance to talk civilly at first. And then you’d tell her that it was okay if she wanted to fire you and that you were sorry for being so open and that if you had fucked things up, you’d do whatever you could to fix them.

…

The silence eventually became deafening. And there was an itch in your legs that was getting to you. And your hands were slowly untensing, left with an ache from the pressing of your fingernails. And the exhaustion from the long day was getting to you - so you cleared your throat and prepared yourself.

“Miranda, I’m so sor-”

“That was unnecessary.” You couldn’t hear an ounce of emotion in her tone.

And all you could do was nod and look down at your feet.

“I- I know. I know. But I just… I just couldn’t leave, Miranda.”

“You couldn’t or you didn’t want to?”

Well that was a brilliant question. One you wished you could answer without crying. One you wished you could answer without feeling like a complete loser.

“…Both, I guess.” You settled on the best option you could think of and began shaking your head when the only response you got was a low hum of acknowledgment.

And Miranda still hadn’t moved. She was probably compartmentalizing - or disappearing into her fashionable mind palace - all while you stood there looking at her like she had just smacked your ice cream onto the floor.

Well… if there was one thing you knew, it was that the tension-filled silence couldn’t continue. She could either fire you quickly or make it slow and painful, but either way you weren’t going down without a fight.

“Look, I’m sorry. I am. I know it was out of line and it was too much and I should’ve just kept my mouth shut but I promise I did it with good intentions. And I promise I wouldn’t have stayed if I wasn’t worried and I wouldn’t have said anything if I weren’t genuinely upset. And… and I don’t know if you want to fire me because of that, but if you’re gonna do it - please just get it over with. I know I’m a good assistant, I- I know I’ve learned quickly and I’m sorry that I just completely ruined that right now but if you somehow just gave me another chance, I wouldn’t make another mistake. I promise. And I wouldn’t- I- I-,” you stumbled over your words, feeling the intense pounding of your heart press up against your chest, like it was begging to bounce onto the floor and tumble down the stairs. And the feeling felt so sickening that you had to take a deep breath and shake your head and push down the angry, anxious, terrified tears that yearned to spill into your eyes. “And I- I’ll- I’ll never let anyone talk to you like that again… I promise.”

Your voice was frail. The fire from earlier was gone - as though it had never existed at all. And Miranda still just stood there, with her phone in one hand and her face turned away from you…. Like you weren’t good enough to see her. Like you didn’t deserve to know what she was thinki-”

“You talk too much.” It was the only thing she said before she turned around and walked right past you - faster than lightning.

And you blinked just in time, turning on your heel and staring after her.

“Wh-what? That’s it?” You called. No firing? No scolding?

The room she was heading into looked like a study - but that swiftly became unimportant when she paused at the door and turned to you.

Her face, lit up by the hall light, looked tired in the same way it was earlier. But her eyes… well there was something in them that you couldn’t place. It looked like amusement… and something softer. Something- dare you say- grateful. But it was probably just a trick of the light - and you were probably just hallucinating because of your own exhaustion - and she was most likely just itching to get her duty done and go to bed.

And you suspected that was the case until she took a second to look you up and down in that way that she did- with her blue eyes searching and her gaze laser-sharp- and eventually, eventually, she made it back up to your face. Her expression was blank.

“…On Monday morning, tell Emily that the clothing department has a new opening. Then tell everybody else.” There was a pause. “…And be prepared to start interviews on Tuesday.”

And the last you saw of her then- of the sweet poison you called Miranda Priestly- was the statuesque shape of her body’s side profile as she softly closed the study door.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Thank you for the request, anon! I understand this isn't terribly fluffy, but I wanted to make it as realistic as I could. I hope you enjoyed! - Ripley

(P.S. DWP is my favorite movie!)

════ ⋆★⋆ ════════ ⋆★⋆ ════

[newmusickarl]

Top 100 Songs of 2024

Thanks to everyone who has followed the 2024 round-up so far, hopefully you’ve discovered something new along the way. If you’re only joining in now, then you’ve arrived at the best time. For the next part of my annual year-end collections, it’s time to share with you my favourite songs of the last 12 months, in the form of one mammoth playlist. Unlike my albums list this one is unranked and it isn’t necessarily what I think are the “best” songs of the year, but more the songs that have ultimately come to soundtrack and define my 2024 in some way.

As ever, in this year’s playlist are plenty of lesser-known gems from some of my favourite new discoveries, the year’s best album cuts, my favourite collaborations, big festival anthems, a few guilty pleasures and, of course, some of 2024’s biggest singles.

As always, for the sake of diversity, I’ve kept it to strictly one song per artist (excluding those who are also included on other tracks as features). This a rule I really wanted to break this year as there were several tracks from Fontaines and Lola Young in particular that should be on here. However, I stuck with my rules and only included one from each, to ensure I could spotlight as many different great artists as possible.

As a bonus for Apple Music users, I’ve also included my mega Best Songs: 2015-2024 playlist, which contains all my annual year-end playlists from the last decade.

So, dive in on your platform of choice, hit the shuffle button and you never know - you might find some inspiration for your own New Year’s Eve mix or your new favourite song. Enjoy!

Listen to the Top 100 Songs of 2024 Playlist:

On Spotify here

On Apple Music here

Listen to the Best of 2015-2024 playlist:

On Apple Music here

My Top 100 Songs of 2024 (in alphabetical order by artist):

1. Paying Bills At The End of The World by Aaron West and The Roaring Twenties

2. Sadness As A Gift by Adrianne Lenker

3. Black Eye by Allie X

4. My Drummer’s Girlfriend by ALT BLK ERA

5. Living A Lie by The Amazons

6. U Should Not Be Doing That by Amyl and The Sniffers

7. I Never Had Control by Another Sky

8. Curse by Architects

9. Kimbara by Barry Can’t Swim

10. Release Myself by Bess Atwell

11. Into The Blue by Best Youth

12. TEXAS HOLD ‘EM by Beyoncé

13. Call Me After Midnight by Bleachers

14. Hunger Games by Bob Vylan

15. Better Now by Bombay Bicycle Club featuring Rae Morris

16. S P E Y S I D E by Bon Iver

17. Alright, Ok! by Bored Marsh

18. Kool-Aid by Bring Me The Horizon

19. Clams Casino by Cassandra Jenkins

20. 360 by Charli XCX

21. Aw, Shoot! By CMAT

22. Hourglass by Cold Cave

23. 3AM (LA LA LA) by Confidence Man

24. Next To You by Deco

25. Little Birds by DIIV

26. Gears by Divorce

27. Split Lip by Dolores Forever

28. Perfect by Du Blonde

29. Houdini by Dua Lipa

30. Balu by Elbow

31. The World’s Biggest Paving Slab by English Teacher

32. Enter The Mirror by Everything Everything

33. Screamland by Father John Misty

34. City Glitter by Fazerdaze

35. Mother by Fiona-Lee

36. Starburster by Fontaines D.C.

37. Gratitude by Foxing

38. Ceasefire by Frank Turner

39. Say Goodbye by Future Islands

40. Blue Jeans & White T-Shirts by The Gaslight Anthem

41. Van Halen by Geographer

42. Holy, Holy by Geordie Greep

43. Gleams by George FitzGerald

44. Living In The ‘20s by Green Day

45. Cover Up the Cover Up by Gruff Rhys

46. Lonely Is The Muse by Halsey

47. V. by Hayden Thorpe

48. Dive by Holly Humberstone

49. 1995 by Holly Macve

50. Uptight by Home Counties

51. Dirt by The Howl & The Hum

52. Buffalo by Hurray For The Riff Raff

53. Gift Horse by IDLES

54. Zombieland by Jake Bugg

55. All You Children by Jamie xx featuring The Avalanches

56. New World (Flow) by Joe Goddard & Fiorious

57. Red Sky by Kaliko

58. G.O.A.T by Kasabian

59. Love You Got by Kelly Lee Owens

60. Not Like Us by Kendrick Lamar

61. I’m Flush by Kneecap

62. Portrait Of A Dead Girl by The Last Dinner Party

63. Merry Old England by The Libertines

64. Love Song by Lime Garden

65. The Emptiness Machine by LINKIN PARK

66. Messy by Lola Young

67. Santa Fe by London Grammar

68. Feast of Tongues by Los Campesinos!

69. Bounce by LYVIA

70. Loud Bark by Mannequin Pussy

71. Hanging by Marika Hackman

72. The End Can Be As Good As The Start by Maxïmo Park

73. Crying Over U by Medium Build

74. Bubblegum Dog by MGMT

75. Greatest Dancer by Nadine Shah

76. Conversion by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

77. No One’s Watching Me by Olivia Dean & Ezra Collective

78. Doubt by One True Pairing

79. You & The Packhorse Blues by Orlando Weeks

80. Somebody Without U by Oscar and the Wolf

81. A Reckoning by Owen

82. Lobster Telephone by Peggy Gou

83. God of Everything Else by Porridge Radio

84. Never Need Me by Rachel Chinouriri

85. Soup by Remi Wolf

86. Adored by Royel Otis

87. People Watching by Sam Fender

88. Deer Teeth by Sega Bodega

89. Everything and Nothing by SOFT PLAY

90. 10,000 Hours by Spielmann

91. Literary Mind by SPRINTS

92. Broken Man by St. Vincent

93. Robin by Swim Deep

94. Drone:Nodrone by The Cure

95. How Can I Love Her More? By The Lemon Twigs

96. Right Back To It by Waxahatchee featuring MJ Lenderman

97. Silver by Wunderhorse

98. Clementine by Yannis & The Yaw

99. Dream Job by Yard Act

100. Elephant by 070 Shake

Thanks for listening! Still to come over the festive period – my favourite EPs & Gigs of 2024!

[43sol]

Sis wrote the most crack, most spelling-error, most uninformed oneshot of T&B that is somehow in-character and awful and I cried real tears of horror and joy. My heart is full right now. imma draw a Most Serious comic of this.

~~~~

Baranby opens his texting app fully expecting that the old  man was having another crisis only to be pleasantly surprised at the content of the messages. 

---

The rapid fire rate of incoming  texts could only mean one person was the sender. 

Hey Bunny-chan!!!~  (^_-)-☆

Crazy week right??! ( ༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ ) 

Well i dont know bout you but i want to kick back and have soem FUn 

And guess what?

And he supposes at this point Kotestu had wanted him to guess but he didn’t answer in the appropriate time alloted and grew impatient. 

Director got me some coupons to a fancy restaurant

And since we still havnet gotten our drinks yet 

Meet me friday at this location!! ∩(·ω·)∩

An address pops into his maps. 

Dont forget to dress up! (≧∇≦)/

—-

Barnaby should have known that something was up when the old man told him to dress up but he was too distracted by the butterflies in his stomach and the heat in his cheeks to think clearly. And by the time Friday rolled around, he had already arrived 20 minutes early dressed in his nines when reality finally began to sober him up. 

He can’t believe he wasted the suit that (as Fire Embelm put it) “made his ass extra phat” on this place. 

He stands there a little too long slack-jawed that Kotetsu actually finds him outside the restaurant. 

“Hey Bunny-chan!” he says in a way that makes Baranby’s heart flutter but also gives him the urge to wrap his hands around that thick sturdy neck, “glad you could make it!”

And there he is. Dressed in his normal clothes.

“I thought you said to dress fancy?” 

“Uh yeah, see?” He does a little twirl and tips his cap forward. “I got my shirt ironed.”

“Old man-” but before he could finish he is ushered inside and they are seated in ‘the best seat in the house’ because oh god Kotestsu actually made a reservation. 

This establishment  is a place Baranby never thought he would in a million years find himself in. But since meeting Wild Tiger, these event have been happening more and more often. 

Looking around the Texas-style decor, the waiters in cowboy outfits and just so much bovine memorabilia…

“This is Tyson Bison Steakhouse and Winery.”

“Yeah super fancy right?!” 

“It’s a franchise.”

“A fancy franchise!”

“There is a cardboard cut out of Tyson Bison behind you.”

“ It’s like having our friends here but not!”

Obviously nothing could ruin the good mood for Kotetsu T Karuragi. Who has seduced not one, but two people in his life with his buffoonary. 

“Whatever.” 

“That’s the spirit! And don’t worry,” he takes the coupons out of his vest and fans himself with them like a rich old lady, “Dinner’s on me!”

—-

Ok. The food wasn’t horrible. 

And the company wasn’t either. 

Maybe he was even enjoying himself? Maybe Kotetsu-san really did have good ideas sometimes. They needed some time to let loose. What was a better place no one would bother them than the franchise chain one of their friends/coworkers sponsors?

And then the check came. 

Kotetsu, in total confidence, hands the cowboy-waiter his coupons with a smile and a wink. The cowboy-waiter is not impressed. 

“Sir, these coupons are good for a free appetizer. I still need your payment information.” 

Wild Tiger laughs nervously. 

Barnaby starts to feel his blood pressure rise. 

“But you see my buddy, the DIRECTOR OF JUSTICE, gave these to me. For a meal here!”

“Yes and the coupons are good for an appetizer.” 

“I don’t see that written here.”

“Please look at the fine print sir.” 

Oh course the old man’s downfall was him being …well old. 

Barnaby decides to throw him a bone especially since the dinner wasn’t that bad. He pulls out his credit card only to be stopped by Tiger grabbing his wrist. 

“I can’t let you do that Bunny. I’m treatin’ ya today.” 

He scoffs. “You didn’t bring enough money old man, I’ll pay.” 

“No I am.” 

“an d how are you going to do that?” 

Kotetsu points to the cardboard cut out behind him. “That’s how.”

“You can’t be serious” 

“You can’t be serious sir”

“I’m very serious Bunny. The sign says if I can finish a 35 ib steak in 20 mins the meal is free.” Kotetsu turns to the waiter, “So bring me my steak!”

“Sir please.”

“Kotetsu san please, this is ridiculous.”

But Kotetsu already is re seated, tying a bib around his neck, fork and knife ready. 

“Bring me my steak!” 

With much horror, Sternbuild’s number one hero watches as the wait staff bring out a massive steak to his waiting partner and a large comically hourglass. 

The original cowboy-waiter looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. But regardless he does his job, “Begin!” 

And Kotetsu shoves the steak into his mouth.

Which lasts about 20 seconds.

Barnaby watches in horror as his work partner and life buddy makes the universal sign for choking and falls to the restaurant floor. 

Diners begin screaming and the wait staff begin scrambling to call the ambulance. 

Barnaby himself falls to the floor next to Tiger’s side as the love of his life gasps and spits out steak chunks. 

Once the coughing subsides, Barnaby can make out a raspy (but sexy) words, “I’m sorry Bunny-chan… I just wanted… to show you a good time…”

“Old man, you’re so stupid…” He would of had fun regardless of where they were. 

Still coughing but able to sit up, “Next time… you choose the place!” 

Barnaby couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“We will waive your bill if you leave now.” Both of the heroes turn to see the original cowboy-waiter behind them, “and if you two never come back we won’t press charges.”  

[mastcrmiind]

mini valentines plotting / starter call under the cut !! either like this for me to message you on discord, or reply with anyone you may want closed starters for !! also i apologise that this is garbage i suck at writing plot drops

please beware that there is mentions of all things violence, death, murder etc related under the cut.

april kepner || 36 || aware || unaffected

april has a lot of her own stuff going on at the moment, so the last thing she wants is to have anything to do with valentines day. she’s going to be spending the night working in the er, so will definitely be around if something happens to your muse.

atticus 'link' lincoln || 36 || aware || paired with jo wilson

link finally got up the courage to invite his best friend that he’s 100% in love with out for valentines day (just as friends, obviously) and now she’s spitting mean statements about his hair at him? he’s a little upset, and link wants to go home, and is fighting the urge to say anything back at jo. He doesn’t want to ruin what almost could be.

beck oliver || 29 || aware || paired with jade west

jade running towards people with scissors isn’t a new thing in becks world, but her threatening him is. Generally it’s her threatening any other girl that beck talks to. beck will be doing whatever they can to fight jade off, without hurting her too bad, though who knows?

belle french || 28 || aware || paired with ??

belle decided to sign up for the valentines event as a way to get out of the library, and now she’s feeling a lot of feelings she’s never really felt before. she’s a girl who knows how to defend herself though, so fingers crossed.

bonnie bennett || 23 || aware || paired with lorenzo st john

bonnie’s love for enzo has been completely clouded with the desire to kill him, infact, every feeling bonnie has, has now been clouded with her desire to kill, mainly enzo. she will be using her magic & doing whatever she has to do to take him out.

carrie bradshaw || 25 || aware || unaffected

carrie heard everything going on in town, and has decided to keep herself locked in her apartment for the time being. so if anybody else is living in the same apartment building as her and is unaffected, she may need some company.

cleo sertori || 29 || aware || unaffected

cleo chose the wrong night to go out for a swim. whoops. cleo can be found down at the moon pool, hiding out from the noise of the mayhem happening throughout the city, but who knows who’s lurking around to find her with a tail.

edwina sharma || 21 || unaware || paired with ??

edwina was looking for love, and now she’s overcome with the desire to kill her blind date? she’s a fairly self sufficient girl, but i can’t see this ending very well for her.

enola holmes || 20 || aware || unaffected

enola is confused enough about her feelings for tewkesbury, she doesn’t need to add an extra person into the mix. she’s spending the night now hiding out in the corner of the diner she took herself on a valentines date too. she might be available to help kick some ass, or do her best to help out if anyone is injured.

josette laughlin || 34 || aware || paired with alaric saltzman

Jo has literally just come back from the dead, and to celebrate she wanted a peaceful valentines dinner with her almost-husband, but when is anything ever peaceful in her life? she’s always been the cool, calm and collected twin, and now she’s got the desire to murder the love of her life. once she has either fought off the feeling, or murdered alaric, whichever comes first she will be ready to help out anybody else that is injured.

lady lola flemming narcisse || 19 || aware || paired with ??

lola has decided now is the perfect time to get herself back out there. her estranged husband is stuck 500 years in the past, so there’s no harm in a simple blind date. or there shouldn’t be. this is going to bring a lot back for lola, who couldn’t hurt a fly, so she may end up back at square one, or unaware at the end of this.

lexie grey || 28 || aware || paired with mark sloan

lexie only just got mark back, now that they both remember who they really are, and if she can help it she isn’t losing him again. she’s going to try fight the urge to hurt him as much as she possibly can, but whatever will be, will be. if she does end up injuring him, you can guarantee she’s going to do everything she can to save his life, before going to see who else she can help.

lily luna potter || 21 || unaware || harry potter

lily luna isn’t one for fighting, so when she ends up stuck in the middle of the mayhem going on in the city, she isn’t going to be sure what to do. honestly someone make this girl be collateral damage in another couples fight just so she remembers who her family is please.

mariana adams-foster || 24 || aware || paired with ??

mariana is always one for spontaneity. so when she heard there was blind dates available on valentines day, she jumped at the opportunity. she’s new to town, after all. she’s going to do everything she can to fight the urge to murder her date, because that’s definitely not very cool.

matilda wormwood || 20 || aware || unaffected

matilda is going to be spending the night wandering the city on the lookout for her mother, hiding in the shadows to make sure she doesn’t end up in the middle of anyone elses drama, thank you very much.

melissa glaser || 23 || unaware || unaffected

melissa is going to be peacefully locked away in the bakery, making valentines treats for the masses. she wants absolutely no part in the drama whatsoever, thank you very much. but if she ends up caught up in it, and getting her memories back, that wouldn’t be too bad either.

milton 'mg' greasley || 19 || unaware || unaffected

mg is going to be hiding somewhere to avoid the smell of blood, so he doesn’t end up doing something he might regret in the morning. if anyone wants to have him potentially feed on their muse, let me know.

rebekah mikaelson || 1000+ || aware || unaffected

rebekah has decided the right thing to do when a bunch of people in town are being murdered by their loved ones, is to wander around trying to save people with her blood, despite her want to stay out of all of it.

rosalie hale || 107 || aware || paired with emmett cullen

whoops, rosalie really wants to kill emmett now, which probably wont end well for her with how much stronger than her he is. all she wanted was a nice human experience on valentines day and now she’s losing her mind.

simon basset - duke of hastings || 30 || aware || paired with daphne bridgerton

tbd : simon isn’t going to want to do anything to hurt anyone, so he will be trying his hardest to fight the temptation to injure his wife. he’s going to do only what he has to do to protect himself, and her.

carina deluca || 38 || aware || paired with ??

if carina survives, and ends up being the one to kill her date, she will be feeling rather sorry for herself, but will probably try her hardest to help in anyway she can.

hailey damon || 26 || aware || unaffected

hailey is going to be staying home that night, though she will be worrying about what may have happened to her mother, not knowing where she is but knowing kate would kill her herself if she was to go out in whatever was happening outside.

rosa diaz || 33 || aware || paired with kate denali

rosa’s competition is a vampire, so lets be real. she’s probably going to end the night very much not alive. She won’t be going down without a fight though, she’s a trained police officer, and has a lot of obscure skills that could help her.

[jodilin65]

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 31, 2000 Tonight’s New Year’s Eve, my favorite holiday. Another thing the freeloaders stole from me. But not totally. Tom said to me on the phone today how he’d like to celebrate Christmas, my birthday, and the new year when I get out and make up for all we’ve lost together. How sweet of him. It’s another thing I can look forward to, in the midst of all I have to not look forward to.

He also offered to visit more, but I know how hectic Sundays are. He needs his days off to himself, and I can hardly hear him over all the people who visit on Sundays anyway.

He offered to put $30 a week in which would be even better than $20. Just knowing the money was there, even if I don’t use it all, makes me feel better. I want to get more hard candy and less chocolate so it lasts longer since I can’t chew gum here.

Although I know there’s no way I’ll get out of here before 4/29, he still thinks I will, but not because of anything he does. He thinks the jail will review me and let me out early after seeing how well I behave. He said he doesn’t think the inmates are really aware of this. I can’t imagine this happening, though. If it were something that happened, I’m sure I’d have heard about it. Besides, that sounds more like something that’d happen in prison, not jail.

Ruby’s still here, and if she gets out, it won’t be till next week after she talks to classification. I guess they fucked up on the computer.

By no means am I desperate to escape Carolyn and Monday, but they won’t always let me sleep. After our hour out at 9:00 this morning, they wouldn’t let me go back to sleep! They were talking on and off and wouldn’t even pretend to try to talk softly. They’re fine cellies when you’re awake. They don’t stink and don’t beg for my radio, but trying to get any sleep with them around is hit or miss. Carolyn said I should be more tolerable, but there’s only so much a person can tolerate, and they need to do their share of compromising, too. They can’t expect to throw all the compromising on me. I also made it clear to them that I won’t respect their sleep if they don’t respect mine.

I told Carolyn I sometimes wake up grouchy and not to take it personally.

“But we do take it personally,” she said.

“Well, that’s your problem then,” I told her. “I can’t worry and be responsible for how you may react to things. All I can do is tell you like it is and then you handle it however you’re going to handle it.”

The nurse surprised me by bringing me my allergy spray on his evening rounds, but they’re still out of the asthma inhaler. This nose spray is better because it sprays a finer mist like the lung inhalers. The other ones were like squirting water up my nose, but with this one, I don’t even need to dab at my nose with a tissue afterward.

It’s late afternoon right now. Carolyn, who’s sick to her stomach, is getting a taste of her own medicine and experiencing a good old-fashioned case of karma. The assholes out on their hour were keeping her up. Actually, she slept most of the day, which was the only reason I could get caught up on my sleep, but she wanted to sleep longer than I did. Yet even the DOs don’t have any respect, as Carolyn would find out when the rude dickhead we got on tonight went banging on tables. I’m sure Carolyn will steal my sleep (along with Monday) tomorrow and the next day, but today it’s nice to see that God, or something, took care of Carolyn and showed her what it’s like to ask someone the simple little favor of lowering their voice, only to be ignored.

Karma got Carolyn, but what about the freeloaders? Yeah, what about the freeloaders? That’s another good title for this book - What About the Freeloaders?!?!

Tom’s Christmas gifts consisted of a new shirt (he always gets a new shirt), a weird stuffed animal in a box, a wrench, and an electronic toy.

It’s about 10 PM now. Earlier we had another disappointing dinner; a cold, greasy hot dog with a little scoop of potato salad, a couple of pieces of cauliflower, and 5 crackers.

I can’t wait for commissary!

It’s going to be a long boring night for me. I can only read and write so much. I can only sleep so much, too.

Monday says she’s going to sleep as much as she can tomorrow because she has to be pulled for court at 2 AM. I treasure any time I can get with just one celly. With her gone, Carolyn won’t be chatting, and fortunately, she doesn’t talk to herself.

I’m getting a copy of this thing called Hart vs. MCSO through a tank order. It’s about a girl who took this place to court to better the living conditions around here. According to what I read in Carolyn’s copy (she’s rude, yet she’s enlightened me) it’s illegal for them to put more than 2 people in these small cells. I’m going to tank the captain and ask him why MCSO (Maricopa County Sheriff’s Office) can break the law, but we can’t. Then I’m going to send my copy home to Tom and see if he can have it investigated. It pisses me off, even scares me, to know that no investigators check up on things around here periodically. There’s got to be someone Tom can contact to stop them from putting 3 of us in here like this, as well as to maybe get some hot showers here, too.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 29, 2000 I slept on and off today, then after listening to people on their hour out discuss their “wives” for a while, I decided to get up.

I wish Poindexter, the girl next to us, wasn’t next to us. Everybody’s got to come gab with her on their hour out and it gets old.

My girlfriend’s on tonight. My imaginary one, that is, with a cold. I said, “It’s my favorite DO! Where you moving me to tonight?” when she came to the door to serve dinner, but she says she’s not moving me.

Wow! Really?

Ruby’s still here and I’m beginning to doubt she’ll go to GP. I just may be with Carolyn and Monday for a while, but they’re tolerable enough. Both should be gone in a couple of weeks, though. Monday to prison and Carolyn to rehab.

I’m depressed and homesick tonight, but what else is new? This is jail. My husband and my home are still way in the future. Many worlds away. I want to cry, but I don’t want to. It’d make me feel better, but I don’t want to run my mascara and depress Carolyn and Monday.

For jail mail, I got a receipt saying a friend deposited $20 yesterday. It couldn’t have been Helen. She wouldn’t do that, I don’t think, so it must’ve been Tom. I’ll call and ask him tomorrow.

No arm exercises for me tonight. I hurt my shoulder. I’ve been having problems on and off with that shoulder for nearly a year. I wonder if I might have tendonitis.

I’m through grieving for warmer air and hot showers just to have it granted for only 4 days. I’ll just suffer for 4 more months.

Palma started singing in Spanish as she approached our door on a walk, then stopped as she moved away. Hmm…trying to impress me? I wish! I also wish my Spanish was as good as hers and that Ruby would get the fuck out of here! I heard her talking to Palma about it earlier. She ain’t going anywhere. Not for a while, anyway. At least I’m not in a huge cell in M or with someone like Melinda.

Carolyn and Monday sleep and read most of the time. In the evenings they’re up chatting. Neither of them stinks, which is good, but Carolyn is one very misguided woman! She’s the one that’s very religious and she claims that the world will end in 10 years. Anything’s possible, but if it does, I highly doubt it’ll be in the way she says it will. She says the whole world, even those that live in the desert, far away from the ocean, will see Jesus place one foot on land and the other on water. Then after Satan tries to fool people into thinking he’s God, God’s going to pull his followers into heaven and kill the rest of us. It’s called The Rapture. Carolyn’s going to be one very disappointed person if she’s right, yet doesn’t make it to heaven. Or very shocked if none of this happens at all, but she strikes me as the type that would come up with a logical reason in her delusional mind for why it never happened. I mean, doesn’t she realize how ridiculous this story sounds? I try not to judge/change others and I expect others not to judge/change me, but it all sounds crazy to me.

She asked me what I thought about it all. I told her I believe in God, but not in God the way most people who believe in him do, and I don’t believe in religion. To me, religion is nothing but a bunch of silly rules and superstitious beliefs.

I jogged earlier. Because of my shoulder, I think I’ll only do leg and ab exercises tonight. Then I’ll listen to music, think of Tom, get homesick, and then cry.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 28, 2000 I was right when I said commissary would fuck up my order every 2-3 weeks, but at least it was a minor fuck-up. Instead of getting pink lipstick, I got Chapstick, so the guy said he’d take back the Chapstick and credit me for it.

I loaned Rosa a pair of batteries for her radio because her husband didn’t get money into her account on time. I got 15 envelopes for the stuff I got Tina, Carolyn and Monday.

I also wrote Tina the lyrics to the song Desperado like she asked me to.

That Magic Shave they sell is great. It’s a powder you mix with water like pancake batter. It really does remove hair. Carolyn helped me at first. I put it on for 5 minutes, then scraped it off with my ID card. Then I washed the area with my homemade washcloth (a piece of a torn towel).

Although I like Carolyn and Monday, I would still like to go back to Tina and Rosa, but smelly Ruby’s still there. Now that I’m settled with Carolyn and Monday, I’m sure I’ll be moved anytime now.

Where’s Palma? She hasn’t been here since Christmas. I asked Nottelmann if she was on vacation and she said no. Guess she’s working the dorms.

They’ve finally gone to bed. Now maybe I can get a little shitting privacy.

It was funny earlier how Monday was saying she wished she had a catheter running from her to the toilet so she wouldn’t have to keep climbing up and down. It’s an easy climb, though, if you ask me, but she’s kind of fat and out of shape.

Carolyn said the only experience with a woman she had was eating out a hooker she befriended in order to get her out of her house. She said it was either that or be raped but that sounds like an awfully strange story to me. Women aren’t normally that forceful.

Monday says that she’s heard that this jail is the Hilton of all jails in the US. In other countries, they beat and starve people and make them live in their own shit.

Well, this jail is bad enough. After 4 days of being blessed with warm showers, they’re cold again. It only lasted 4 days in M too, when we grieved the showers there. It’s like they count the days or something.

It’s also colder again. I remembered how someone in M covered their vent by slapping on wet wads of toilet paper, so Carolyn and I did that earlier.

They’ve fucked up with the meds again too, the incompetent fuckers! Yesterday’s trip to medical was a complete waste of time, except I got to see Rosa there. We were glad to see each other.

I was pissed to find that I haven’t lost any more weight, too. I’m still 110 pounds. I better cut back on the commissary. Maybe I should just get hard candy, which replaces the gum I usually chew on the outs that they don’t sell here.

I turned down the eye exam because Tom would have to send money in if I needed glasses, and my eyes aren’t bad enough for glasses. I’ll get a real eye exam someday on the outs.

I told the doctor why I didn’t want the Theo and she said, “That’s a lie,” when I told her I was told it’s what made my veins small. My Theo prescription has expired. That’s why they’ve finally quit offering it. The inhalers don’t expire till January 5th. Meanwhile, the doctor said I need not come to medical whenever I need refills. All I have to do is ask the nurse for refills until my prescription expires. Right away my vibes said that the nurse wouldn’t have them. Not only did she not have them, but the whole fucking jail doesn’t have them! They’re out of them and have ordered them from the distributor. How could these stupid quacks let them run out before ordering more, and just how many days will it take for them to get more? Again, I’m getting so fucking fed up with having to fight for meds that I’m tempted to say – fuck it!

A very butchy butch who noticed I was having trouble breathing on my way back from talking with Kara, gave me a hit of her inhaler. That was very nice of her. I’m saving the few precious hits I have left for when I really need them, but hopefully I won’t. I do the ballooning technique when I get really tight and it usually helps.

As for my allergy spray – instead of taking 2 squirts in each nostril a day, I’m taking 1 in each every other day.

My teeth – fuck them. If God wanted me to have straight teeth, he’d have given me them, and this is why he’s now got me in a situation that’ll force me to have crooked teeth again. I rebelled against the way they were and now I’m going to lose all I worked for. I went through so much time, money and pain to straighten them! I should’ve known better, though, about trying to change the way things are. I’m not going to bother returning to the dentist, or any other one for that matter. I’m just going to let them rot till they fall out and I need dentures.

I really love this Magic Shave. You don’t get razor stubble. On the outs, I’ll probably get the kind that’s already mixed, although it may be more expensive. All I’ll have to do is rub it on and wait 5 minutes, then hop in the shower. I may never use razors again.

Just heard a 3rd shift DO tell someone it’s 1:00.

I had a bright idea, though I don’t know that it’ll work. I want to put in a tank to classification requesting a copy of my original Ad-Seg form “for my records.” The real reason I want it is to see if I can get Rule’s first and middle initials and her ID# (even DOs have ID#’s). I want this for when I mail her a thank-you note because I heard there’s another Officer Rule floating around here somewhere.

I keep having these very depressing thoughts of being forced out of my home, away from my husband, and into the city. Into a small studio apartment near a job, only being with Tom in Maricopa on weekends.

After tanking psych, I got to see Kara today. I explained to her that my fight for an early release is over and that we’ve tried everything to no avail. I knew deep down as of 2-3 weeks ago that I wouldn’t get out before 4/29, but the reality of it really hit yesterday. I was so depressed.

I told her about the PO ignoring me and she offered to call for me, but I said no. Tom might call the PO’s supervisor. I don’t know if this is true or not, but Carolyn says she’s ignoring me because she’s not technically my PO (Carolyn would turn out to be right). The one out of Maricopa will be. Then why’d they bother to assign me to this woman in the first place?

I also explained to Kara that Tom spoke to a lawyer who said they’d love to take our money, but rule 32 isn’t for me. That applies to those in prison. He still thinks that after being here with good behavior for 90 days, since anyone can behave for just a week or two, I’ll have a better chance of an early release, but I don’t know if I can behave for that long with all these assholes, and I know I won’t get out early. I’m 100% sure of it at this point.

“That’s more time you have with Palma,” Monday said.

Sorry, but I’d rather trade in Palma for my husband, home, pets, freedom, and all the stuff I miss.

When I discussed with Kara my wanting to be closed custody because of the stress of having to be with so many different people, half of them rude or crazy, she said she’d hate to see me classified as CC because that’s for violent people. Like I really give a fuck about my reputation? I knew I’d never get it, though. God wants me with people. Lots and lots of people.

Ruby still hasn’t left for GP yet. I wonder if she ever will.

Kara said she’d talk to people about not moving me around so much, but I doubt Palma would give a shit. I also doubt there was ever a chance she ever liked me. No woman that I feel is that good-looking ever likes me. It’s almost always one-sided. If it likes me, I don’t like it, and if I like it, it doesn’t like me.

The best part of my day, which is now yesterday, was the fact that I got 2 visits back to back! First Helen, then Tom! Helen kept her word. How sweet of her to see me here. No, she definitely isn’t solely money-motivated.

She didn’t yet get the letter I sent in response to the Christmas card she sent me because she’s been in San Antonio and hasn’t been to the office.

It was hard for me not to shed some tears during our visit. Even her eyes got watery. Hope I didn’t ruin her day!

I filled her in as best I could about the good and bad, although unfortunately, there’s very little good to this place. I told her of my fears for when I get out of here and asked if she could help me find someone, if I needed it, to give me a note explaining why it would be hard on me both physically and emotionally to work outside the house. I need to work at home. I’m not going to be forced out into this sick, crazy world and into being something/somebody I’m not. I need to be the boss of my own fucking life! I can’t live my life with others always telling me what to do!

We agreed I’d give her a copy, once I get home and type up the rough drafts, of the Estrella Jail saga, so she can catch up on this nightmare quicker by reading in between sessions.

I’m in a real tug of war, as I told her. I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to live, either. I want to die right now to spare myself another 4 months of hell in here and whatever hell awaits me on the outs. Yet I want to live to be with my husband again, to play with Houdini, to do the things I love to do, eat my favorite foods and so much more. I want to beat these freeloaders once and for all! Beat them out of my life for good! Take back all that they and the courts have stolen from me!

I was just about to ask Tom what he got for Christmas when our time was up. He said he decided to wait and let me open my gifts myself when I get out. Sounds good.

Helen said my committing suicide would end my pain, but Tom’s would be forever. I don’t know about that. Tom’s a strong one who moves on very well. He could handle it and he’d get over it, but I get her point.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 27, 2000 OK, now for my shocking news. There’s a chance Palma may actually like me. I thought about the possibility for a second, said nah, then Carolyn suggested she might like me before I even mentioned it. I don’t know, though. For everything that says she doesn’t like me, there’s something that says she might.

Ruby, Carolyn and Monday think she’s bi. I had thought she may be prejudiced because of how Madeline said she reacted to a couple of girls who got rather close to each other in K dorm. She said Palma said something like, “How could you do that shit on my shift? That’s sick!” Carolyn said the bi ones are the ones that usually react like that, and Madeline’s no reliable source of information.

Monday said she was nearly fired last May for nearly beating someone up. Palma does have a very aggressive streak in her.

If she does like me, she has a very strange way of showing it what with the way she’s played musical cells with me. Carolyn said that her bouncing me around may delay me from going back to M because it’s those who have been in the same cell here the longest that tend to go first, she says, and not who’s been in Ad-Seg for the longest, like I had thought. On the other hand, though, she moves a lot of people around, so I don’t know what to think.

Maybe she respects me for standing up to her. Maybe that’s it. Three times I yelled at her and got away with it. She could’ve written me up or done something. Then again, all I really did was swear and bitch. It’s not like I threatened to kill her. Even so, from what I’ve seen, Palma’s the wrong one to go off on. Why I got away with it is a mystery to me.

Later, once I’d gotten settled in here, I apologized for going off on her. “You’re OK, babe,” she said. It didn’t hit me till later that she used the word babe, and I asked Carolyn if she heard her say that, which she did.

Another thing that stuck in my mind was how weird I thought it was for her to say, “I’d never send you there,” when I thanked her for not sending me to M the day she put me in with Ruby. I could’ve sworn she either said that, or “I wouldn’t send you there.”

Again, I don’t know what to think. It’s nice to think that someone you like might like you back, but I can’t say for sure what’s going through her mind. There’s something there, though. It seems that ever since I gave her that card, things have changed between us, and I’ve been getting a lot more attention from her, even if most of it isn’t in a great way, and even though she’s still not very friendly overall. I must admit that as pretty as she is, there’s nothing about her personality that really grabs me. She may know two languages, but other than that, I get the feeling she’s probably pretty dumb.

A part of me doesn’t want to know if she likes me or not, as much as I’m curious, because then there’d be no fun in guessing and wondering, which is fun to do. I like playing detective games and trying to figure things out. I don’t have anything much better to do here, anyway.

Nottelmann said she’d put me in Alex’s cell if it’s not taken when she returns Thursday. If he left today, like I’m pretty sure he did, it’ll be taken long before Thursday. Thursday I’m going to try to get her to put me back with Rosa and Tina. The only problem with that is that Palma will bounce me back out.

Rosa and Tina are not happy to have Ruby for a celly, although they like her. Ruby showers only once a week and has a yeast infection that makes her stink like hell. She finally showered today. I remember how she stunk, though Rosa’s a stinker, too.

There are a couple of funny things I forgot to mention from when I was with Rosa and Tina. I wrote the Spanish word pared down, which means wall. Then I told Rosa, “Me voy a pregunta Tina al leer esta palabra” (I’m going to ask Tina to read this word). She pronounced it paired, just like I knew she would. Rosa and I got quite a kick out of that one!

Then I told Tina to tell Palma dame un beso (give me a kiss), but Tina said she doubted she could remember that and that she didn’t trust what I was telling her to tell her.

Gee, I wonder why? It was still worth the try!

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 26, 2000 A101

Took a long, 4-hour nap. I must’ve been exhausted.

I have a lot to update on. Not even an hour after giving Nottelmann that note, Palma rolled me back to 107 and told Ruby to go to 101. I was both shocked and psyched. Tina and I were hugging, Rosa practically picked me up off the ground as she hugged me, and we were all glad I was “home” again.

I had just gotten my shit set up when in came Palma to tell me she was swapping me and Ruby. I was pissed and I totally went off on her, asking her why the fuck she was doing this to me and that if she had a fucking problem with me, she could just come out and say so.

Then she tells me not to give her any shit and that someone fucked up the roster and she was trying to fix it (how the hell I got away with cussing her out, beats me!). I guess she swapped us because Ruby’s max, and so are Rosa and Tina. Because I’m medium, I was put in with other mediums.

Anyway, as I was heading towards 101, I asked Palma if they were crazy. She said they weren’t, and that I probably knew them.

Well, I’ve never met Carolyn P and Marian M before, but at least they aren’t crazy. Just rude. They have no respect for those that are sleeping. Especially Monday, as she likes to be called. The only way I can get any sleep in here is if one of them is asleep while I’m asleep. If not, they talk to each other without bothering to lower their voices. They don’t even try to be quieter.

They’re both in for drugs and both are ugly. Carolyn’s 39 and Monday’s 43, and because she’s older, I’m sure that means she’ll be talking a lot, especially to herself. She gave Carolyn and I Christmas cards she got from tank orders. That’s premature. It was still nice of her, though.

Although gently, Carolyn’s been trying to push Jesus on me. I was shocked to find she has a boyfriend. She’s very butchy looking with boring short hair.

This is the 13th time I’ve been moved, and if I haven’t lost count, I’ve had 13 cellies now, too. Ruby, Carolyn and Monday say all I have to do is ask a shrink for closed custody and they’ll give it to me. Yeah, right! And I suppose they’ll give me a million dollars too, if I ask for it. God would never let me escape all these people, but you can bet your ass I’m still going to try!

Tom finally heard from someone – the bar association. They said to take it back to court. In other words, they don’t give a shit and they aren’t going to do anything about it.

During our visit, he signed a sentence – the rat and mouse ate cheese. He’s learning! I had to correct him a couple of times, but I needed correcting at times myself when I was first learning. Those illustrations can be tricky to comprehend.

He told me the rats were biting him and acting out. Harry ran into the bedroom while Houdini ran the opposite way and climbed up inside the couch.

I showed him how I lost enough weight to finally trade in my large pants for mediums. They’ve been feeding us shit lately! I can’t wait for tomorrow’s commissary. Our Christmas dinner was no different than any other. Tom said he wasn’t surprised, seeing that Christmas is a religious holiday and Thanksgiving is more of a generic one.

Monday’s got court tonight and Monday’s got it January 2nd. Then within 10 days, she’ll be DOC’d out of here.

I got pretty PO’d at this totally rude DO on my way to my visit who was doing escort. I’d have grieved him if I’d known his name, but I didn’t catch it (I later learned it was Bergman). I forgot to tuck my shirt in and he told me to and I did. That’s where the bald mother-fucker should’ve dropped it. Instead, the little fuck had to add that he was two seconds away from canceling my visit. That’s two seconds away from dealing with my wrath he would’ve been too, if he had canceled it, because that wouldn’t have been my loss only but Tom’s, too. That would’ve been so rude to do to Tom and so unfair to him too, after taking the time to come and see me. And over tucking in a fucking shirt! If he’d canceled it, I don’t think I’d have been able to keep from losing it on the sack of snot. How dare he threaten me! What? Do some of these DOs think they’re God just because they’re the DOs and we’re the inmates? This one can bend it backward and shove it up his ass! Sometimes I find myself wishing I didn’t have visits or commissary to lose because if I had nothing to lose, I’d have kicked many sets of teeth down many throats by now.

I thought I noticed more gray in Tom’s hair. A twinge of guilt crept over me when I saw this. And anger and sadness, too. Imagine all the gray hair I’ll have when I get out!

Carolyn and Monday have been good (so far) with not begging. They haven’t even asked to use my radio. I’ll have a total of 15 envelopes if all goes well. I’ll have 6 from Tina after I get her candy bar and pop tarts, 6 from Monday for 2 brownies and corn nuts, and 3 from Carolyn for 1 candy bar.

Carolyn and I were talking about diet and exercise and she said that if you build muscle underneath the fat, rather than lose the fat first, you won’t lose the fat. That’s what happened to me. But then she said that a good 3-4 months of eating 3 grapefruits a day will peel the outer layer of fat off. That outer layer of fat, though, is being peeled off really well, thanks to Estrella Jail and the freeloaders who put me here.

Black Johnson worked 2nd shift, and I said jokingly, “Hey, you wanna pass a kite for me?”

“Yeah, right,” she said.

We’re not supposed to pass kites to each other, so we have to do it behind the DO’s backs. Rosa had a kite made up for me with lipstick kisses which I got during the 5 minutes I was back there before Palma bounced me down here.

Speaking of kites, I got another medical one to go in for my inhaler/snot spray. I’m scheduled for an eye exam but haven’t heard about my prescriptions yet.

Oh, I hate this shit! I’m so sick of having to fight for things no one should have to fight for. At least we have hot showers and even the air temperature’s warmer. How long will it last, though?

Got two letters from Tom today, mostly mentioning how the rats bite him and misbehave. He enclosed a picture of Harry, saying he’s getting to look like Vanilla Belly. I couldn’t see his belly, but I thought he was a spitting image of Scuttles with the dark brown fur and white paws. He says mellow Harry’s turned into a hyper, rebellious thing.

He says he hasn’t been able to get any info on Rosa yet. The court website’s been down.

He also says he’s holding off on the governor and senator’s letters till he talks to a lawyer. He thinks a lawyer would cost $300–$400, but I think it’d cost more than that. His mom, God bless her, may have to help us.

Why don’t we just open up “The Freeloader Account?” Why don’t we just pay her regularly for the rest of our lives? In a sense, we’ll probably have to anyway.

Carolyn and Monday had the very unfortunate curse of having crazy Melinda for a celly for 3 days till she went back to M. They said they prayed for someone like me. I’m glad God answered their prayers. Now how about mine?

Set me free, God!

Carolyn was telling me the DOs record our daily behavior in detail, but I don’t see how they can be that detailed when 95% of the time they don’t glance in at us for longer than a second. Sometimes not at all.

Yuck! This cell is starting to reek of bad breath (they’re asleep). Commissary needs to start selling room deodorizers.

As I’ve said before, I plan to type these rough drafts up when I leave here and make a little book. My Estrella Jail Nightmare was the only thing I could think of for a title. Then Carolyn came up with Why Am I Here? Again, I know why I’m here. I’m here because something up there hates me and wants to screw me over.

Carolyn thinks I should publish it to let folks know exactly what goes on here, and when I told her what a bitch it is to get something published, she recommended I sell it at a consignment shop.

I don’t think so.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 25, 2000 So now it’s Christmas. Another thing the freeloaders have stolen from me, even if all we would’ve done was stay home. Still, I should be home with my husband! Not here on account of this shit!

What goes around comes around. Wouldn’t that rule apply to non-whites as well as whites? I hope so!

Although Ruby’s quite immature for a 40-year-old and can bore me to death with stories of her drug days, she is quiet most of the time. She sleeps and reads a lot.

She was kind enough to loan me her sharp pencil since mine are all blunt. I’m buying her three 55¢ packs of cookies and a 25¢ chic-o-stick in exchange for 8 envelopes. That’s an awesome trade.

I was beginning to think Ruby would never go to bed so I could shit in private! She read two whole books today. I wish I could concentrate on reading hour after hour like she does. Because we slept late, we were up late. I probably won’t crash till after breakfast. I also took a nap yesterday afternoon, too.

Tina passed me a kite earlier through the girl on her hour out, telling me they’re thinking of me, be strong, don’t cry, and Merry Christmas to both Ruby and I.

I’m sure it’s just eye strain due to stress and poor lighting, but I’ve been having a little trouble seeing. So I put in a request to get my eyes checked. It only costs a few bucks, so what the hell? Ruby said I ought to get the kind of contacts where I could have a different eye color every day. Now that sounds awesome. But my eyes aren’t that bad, they’re probably expensive, and I couldn’t imagine having the guts to stick my eyes with contacts.

We’re about an hour away from 2nd shift. I hope Palma’s on.

We didn’t get anything special for breakfast or lunch. I hope they feed us well at dinner. I hope it’s chicken with some kind of dessert. We haven’t had desserts in a while. If it’s chicken, Ruby said I could have hers because she hates chicken.

Ruby’s been asleep for about 12 hours now. Most of the time I feel like I’m alone. Of course she’s a good celly – it’s only temporary. She stinks and has bad breath, though. In fact, I turned myself around on my bed. Before, our heads were barely more than a foot apart.

Although it’s nothing serious, Ruby does talk to herself a little bit. I noticed that it’s the older ones who’ve done more time that tend to talk to themselves more.

They finally got nail clippers, although they’re pretty blunt.

According to Tina, her shower water was hot. That’s nice. I spoke to both her and Rosa on my hour out. I also called Tom who said he’s going to stop by Mom’s tomorrow, got bit by Houdini, and is going to hire a lawyer. If this lawyer doesn’t get me out of here before April, nothing will. This is our last resort.

Ruby agrees with me – my PO isn’t ignoring Tom and I because of the holidays. She’s ignoring us because she’s every bit as bad as I vibed she’d be. She’s just a bitch who doesn’t give a shit. I hear so many people say how cool their POs are, well, I’ll never get one of those. I just know I won’t.

I forgot to mention something pretty funny Rosa did to Tina before I came over here. Tina was standing at the door talking to someone with her hands clasped behind her back, holding her toothbrush. She’d just finished brushing her teeth when Rosa reached for her toothpaste and put some on the toothbrush! It was sooo funny!

The only thing I don’t miss about being with them is that Tina’s so desperate for chatter. She’s not very independent at all. This constant need for chatter brings people to the door, and when they get to gabbing loudly, it really annoys the fuck out of me. I wouldn’t feel like I was alone right now if I were in with them. They’d be up wanting to talk, and Tina practically forces me to play interpreter for her so she and Rosa can chat, whether or not I’m in the mood. I’d still rather do the rest of my time with them, though, even though she smothers me and gets on my nerves at times, but I know it ain’t about to happen.

Yes! Palma and Nottelmann are on!

I just heard someone ask someone which DOs were on and they didn’t like the answer. They said that when Palma’s on, they get moved. Yeah, Palma does like to play musical cells. Almost every time a 3rd celly has come into whatever cell I’m in, they’re put there by Palma. Who’s Palma going to put in here tonight? Ruby says she won’t put anyone in here. Then she’ll move me instead.

Damn! Ruby’s going to end up being up while I’m asleep and I don’t know if I like that idea.

I’ve got a note on lined paper for Nottelmann about letting me go back to 107, or at least not putting me in a 4-man cell if I must be shipped back to M.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24, 2000 A105

It’s about midnight now, and I’m now 2 doors down from Rosa and Tina with Ruby S. Tina knows her from prison. Ruby’s tolerable. She talks a lot like most inmates do, but she also reads a lot, too. Even so, I miss Rosa and even Tina the bitch!

Ruby is of average height and weight with brown hair and hazel eyes.

I got the shit scared out of me at first. I had gotten really depressed and had Tina ask Palma to pull me to chat with me, which would’ve helped cheer me up. I wasn’t comfortable with asking her myself. So Palma said she would when she got the chance, but she was so busy.

A little later she glanced in at me, then the next thing I know, she’s telling Tina and I to roll up over the intercom! I’m like, now? I knew one of us would get Melinda’s bed, and the other would be in the lower 4-man cell (probably me with my shit luck).

Then Palma said, “No, not you W. S, roll up.”

I refused to go over there, so two other girls got shipped over there instead.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Tina and I calmed a teary Rosa, who was all upset over nearly losing me. But then on our hour out, Palma told me I was going to 105. Why she picked me out of the 3 of us beats me, but I guess I’m here because Ruby’s an epileptic who needs to have someone with her, not that it should be my responsibility. Ruby’s going to general pop on Wednesday or Thursday, so Rosa, Tina and I are going to fight to get me back in with them then.

When I thanked Palma for not moving me to M, she said she’d never move me there.

What did she mean by that?

This cell is not as private because it’s right in front of the tower, but I can still pee without anyone in the tower seeing me. Ruby doesn’t have her vents blocked, yet oddly enough, it’s warmer in here.

Right after 5 of us grieved the cold showers, it was warm, but I know it won’t last.

Palma was in a wicked bad mood. I told her that Nancy D, this girl who has the hots for me, was willing to cell with Ruby, and explained why me and Rosa didn’t want to be separated, but she was like - nope. I already made up my mind, G needs to learn English, etc. I had no way of knowing at the time why Palma really moved me. At least, why I think she moved me, anyway. I’m pretty sure, looking back on it now, that she realized she was beginning to like me and was jealous of me being friends with Rosa.

Although Rosa and I are closer and have more in common, Tina and I have come to care for each other, even though we argue like Madeline and I used to. Ruby says Madeline’s gone to GP.

Kim turned out to be pretty two-faced, telling Ruby I was a whiny bitch, not that that wasn’t true at times, but what? Was Miss Tough Stuff too afraid to tell me this to my face? She’d always brag about how tough she was. Well obviously she wasn’t, or else she’d have had the balls to tell me this to my face.

Anyway, Palma and I never really talked because so much was going on. And maybe she just didn’t care, either. When she was doing a walk I said, “You really hate me, huh?” and she said she didn’t hate anybody. I told her I didn’t mean to give her a hard time, although as I explained to her, playing musical cells and bunkies really affects my nerves, and she said I wasn’t giving her a hard time. I commented about her being in as bad a mood as I was in (she was swearing, as usual), but she said it was just a busy night.

At one point, I really got PO’d when she was ordering us to lock down, and in a loud, snotty voice I yelled, “You know, it would really help if you’d open the fucking door!” (Ruby’s door was locked)

Then she said, “Not you. Them” (Rosa and Tina).

Then she had the DO in the tower pop 105 for me. I’m surprised she didn’t go off on me for yelling at her.

I asked if she got other Christmas cards from other inmates and she said she got quite a few. I was both shocked and a bit disappointed to hear this. I had hoped to surprise her by being the only one. I told Ruby I was surprised she’d get so many cards due to how many people think she’s a bitch. This is when Ruby explained to me that some people like that and that the meaner a DO is, the cooler they think they are. Well, Palma may look really good, but she sure can be a bitch!

It’s about 1 PM now, and yes, Ruby’s a good celly. That’s because she sleeps so much. She’s been sleeping for over 12 hours now. She may be up later to drive me crazy with non-stop chatter. Still, I want back in with Rosa and Tina!

Crazy Melinda’s out on her hour, doing what she did yesterday – begging, singing, and being totally weird and obnoxious.

I was surprised that Helen’s card took only a day to get to me. I’d think it’d be delayed because of the holidays, but since it wasn’t, I won’t wait till after the 1st like I was going to before I mail journal pages. It’s all local, anyway.

Helen sent a Christmas card saying she hasn’t forgotten me, she’s just been busy. That was really nice of her.

I wonder if Palma moved me here because she was worried I’d hurt myself or something because I was awfully teary-eyed yesterday and this cell’s right in front of the tower.

I just saw and waved to Rosa who’s outside the pod waiting for an escort to take her to visitation. Crazy Melinda started talking to her through the window and I signaled Rosa to let her know she was crazy. Melinda saw me motioning, came up to the door, asked if she could get me anything, then said, “Oh, it’s you,” then turned and walked away.

Whatever.

Last night when we were out on our hour before I moved in with Ruby, I called and bitched to Tom. I was so overwhelmed, I told him. The water’s cold, the air’s cold, I want my retainers, and I want everyone to stop ignoring our calls/letters. He still thinks I’ll be released early, but I don’t see it.

Now I’ve got Ruby telling me there’s a reason for all this shit, and that if I find out what it is - and I may never find out - it might not be till the end of my sentence.

I know why I’m here, goddamnit!

Even Tina talked to him, letting him know about rule 32.

Rosa was crying too, and Tom said to be strong for Rosa, who wrote me a little note of inspiration right before I moved.

I am now able to understand Rosa more and more when she talks at her normal speed. I’m finding the need less and less to tell her to slow down.

In my last envelope to Tom, I enclosed a hot dog coupon for him.

As much as I would never want to be pals on the outs with these inmates (except for Rosa), it’s really cool how you can tell them anything and they won’t freak out. Everyone I’ve ever celled with knows I like Palma, and it’s no problem. They’re either gay or bi themselves or have been around so many of them that it doesn’t faze them.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23, 2000 Rosa, Tina and I had a nice talk earlier and I did a lot of interpreting. Gosh, I know a lot of Spanish! All the talking made my lungs tight, though, and Rosa whacked my back. Yeah, I would really rather stay here with these two, than be with someone I may not like in M. We talked mostly about Rosa’s case. At this point, I really believe it was an accident, and kids do fall all the time.

The crazy black bitch was out bitching about all those white inmates that call her names. You’re going to have a hard life as a black chick in this world if you gotta pitch a fit every time you get called a name. That’s part of being a black bitch, bitch, so get used to it or stop treating people like shit!

I asked a trustee who I know lives in the tents if Rule’s still there. Once in a while, she said. She usually works in the men’s tents. Yuck!

I said Pérez was the friendliest DO, but Chambers is just as friendly. It’s too bad she’s not on more often.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 22, 2000 It’s about midnight now. I just took a dump (perfect time to do it too, if you want a little privacy – when your cellies are sleeping). I just hope Rosa’s sleeping at night won’t mean she’ll be up during the day tomorrow. I doubt it, though. She needs to catch up on her sleep. At least I know that if she, Tina, or both were up when I was asleep, they’d be more considerate than Lora and Madeline. Speaking of Madeline, I’ll have to thank her for my birthday card when I see her and let her know I miss our nightly squabbles, although I don’t miss celling with her.

Nottelmann’s a cool DO, but it’ll be interesting to see just how cool she is. Will she really put me in a small cell? And with Rosa? The DOs may feel I’d be doing them a favor by putting us together, so I could interpret when DOs were on that didn’t speak Spanish. I know the trustee, who asked for Rosa’s size for her court clothes, and the DO (whoever she was) that were on late last night, were very grateful I could help with the Spanish.

I wonder why M’s Ad-Seg and juvi pods are so small compared to A’s? A has 15 per pod and M has 5 per pod.

I was thinking about what Tom said about the economy being bad. Well, what if we’re forced to sell a house we can’t possibly sell? And certainly not fast enough to meet their ludicrous demands! Am I going to be forced back into an apartment in the city? We couldn’t afford rent on top of the mortgage, but nobody cares and this city wants me back!!!

Got up sort of late today. That’s because I couldn’t fall back asleep after breakfast, and when I would start to, something would wake me up. I decided to get daily vitamin packs from commissary in case the month after month of sleeping only a few hours here and a few hours there catches up to me and gets me sick.

I put in a medical tank for refills on both my inhaler and allergy spray, but I don’t know if I’ll get lucky enough to get them again in just a few days. I heard one girl say it took her 4 weeks just to get a refill on an inhaler.

I also grieved the cold water and freezing air again. This may be jail, but we’re not animals and we shouldn’t have to live like them! Why do we have to fight for things we should have anyway? I’m sick of this hell hole! And sick of being forced to interact with these people day in and day out, too!

I have a strong feeling I’m going to M Dorm within the next few days (and I’ll lose my commissary again, too), but not with Rosa. I think if I really do go to a small cell, it’ll be with Tina. Better than Melinda, but not as good as Rosa. Nottelmann mentioned me possibly going to Alex’s cell, but that’s upstairs, so Rosa couldn’t go there too, being pregnant. Why Madeline was ever upstairs, beats me. Maybe they moved her by now.

Speaking of crazy Melinda, she’s here now. I saw her on the phone earlier. Tina said she’s seen her 4-pointed, naked to a bed here. She must’ve gone on another suicidal rampage or was run out of her cell. It’d be funny if she were in with the bunk-banger.

That was a shitty dinner. Two boring hot dogs, potato salad, zucchini and bread.

Ruby, this woman who’d been in M in the big cell with Kim and Lisa for a long time, is here now, too. She got fed up with Kim and Lisa and was sick of listening to the AB talk. Especially since her grandkids are part Mexican. Lisa’s leaving Monday and I guess Kim’s leaving on the 1st. I have a strong feeling I’ll be moved over to M Dorm by New Year’s, but I’ll tell you one thing for sure – I’m not going in a big cell. I’d rather stay here if that were my only choice. Tina doesn’t think we’ll cell together in M. I have mixed emotions about that one. She’s quiet and sane compared to some of the others, but she can be a moody bitch. Earlier, she was getting on me for bitching about the things that bother me in jail, yet why do others always have to accommodate her? She wants others to be like her, and as I told her, she’s going to have to meet me halfway if she’s going to cell with me. She’s also turning into a beggar. I want to strangle her at times!

There’s another crazy one next to us, Danielle, who’s dying of AIDS. She was a hooker who killed one of her johns with her AIDS. She never told the guy what she had. To me, even though what she did was wrong, the guy kind of asked for it, being dumb enough to screw a hooker without protection. She’s been calm since we’ve been next to her, but she’s taken many screaming and banging fits herself.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 21, 2000 It’s still freezing in here and I know that means the water will be, too. Although, last night they had the water off for a while, claiming they were working on pipes, but I don’t know if it was to fix the hot water. I never heard anyone working on anything, so it could’ve been because I grieved, but I don’t know. We’ll find out when we have our hour out.

Today the reality and finality of the fact that I won’t be getting out of here sooner really hit and sunk in. We did all we could do. Tom says it’s not right, not fair, but that’s why I’m here. Because life isn’t fair. If it were fair, the freeloaders would be the ones suffering and I’d be living my life. Something up there obviously wants me here and feels I deserve this shit.

Anyway, bad things have a way of happening to some of us who try to change the way things are, so I asked Tom to drop it. He tried to help me, I appreciate it, and now it’s time to accept reality, like it or not.

Nobody cares. Nobody. No one’s responded to any of his phone calls/letters. I knew they wouldn’t, too. And getting a PO in the area we live in won’t change a damn thing, either. Tom says getting a PO out of Maricopa will help because they’ll know and understand how remote we are. But they won’t care. They’ll still order us to move. Again, something wants me in the city! I’m just not going to be allowed to be a country girl. I asked Tom if he had any plans to get the house up for sale and he said now’s a horrible time for that what with the economy being so bad and the new president (George W. Bush). Well, what are we going to do if we’re forced to make a move we can’t even make?

A107

After dinner, Nottelmann moved the 3 of us downstairs on the very end under the stairs because of Rosa’s pregnancy. I like this cell better because it’s more private from the tower, and I’m thrilled to get away from that fucking crazy bunk-basher!

Loca’s not Ad-Seg because she went to court with other people.

I got so pissed at Loca last night for banging like she does as soon as she can’t get her way, and I got pissed at Tina too, and nearly beat the snot out of her. Thank God I didn’t, though, because I’d be riddled with guilt. As she said, she’s never hit me, no matter what I said to her, so I have no business hitting her, as long as she isn’t trying to harm me.

Anyway, she got on my ass for threatening Loca, as much as she drives her crazy too, and for calling the crazy bitch names as much as she hates blacks, too. The reason it set me off was that to me, it was one more person lecturing me and telling me what to do and how to be. After she got me calmed down, I realized she was only trying to help, explaining that name-calling is childish, and threats don’t help, either.

Tina suggested I try to get psych to close custody me and maybe mention it to Kara, but I just don’t see why they’d give a damn. All they’d do, I’d think, was offer me drugs. I just might take them in here, too!

Nottelmann said she thinks Alex is leaving on Christmas. That’d be great if Rosa and I could be in a 2-man cell till I leave! But I highly doubt that.

The pencil sharpener broke after getting 3 pencils sharpened, but at least I got some sharpened.

The shower was hot for me, but cold by the time Tina got in it. Then it warmed up again for the next girl out. As usual, Rosa didn’t shower.

Next is my fight for nail clippers. Although if I’m over in M soon, where there are no trustees to steal them, I may not have much of a fight.

Just to see what kind of a response I’d get, I put in a tank order about my retainers to the captain, like that night shift guy with retainers suggested. I’m sure, though, they’ll tell me I can’t have them.

God, I feel like a child with a million parents telling me what to do!

It’s about 9:15 now, from what I heard, and it’s freezing!

The crazy black bitch went off on a white girl who was out on her hour. This is one crazy mother-fucker!

Rosa and Tina are asleep. Tina normally crashes early, and Rosa’s tired because she had a long day in court. Good. Now I have the whole night to myself, in a sense. I’m going to read, exercise, listen to the radio and write, although I really don’t have much to write about.

Tom couldn’t look up info on Rosa yet, because he forgot her last name. Hopefully, he can tell me more next Tuesday.

He asked me if I thought I’d want him to open my Christmas gifts for me or wait till I come home and let me do it. I let him know he can tell me what I got. I’ll want to know about it if I got a doll. I’d want a picture of it, too.

Harry bit Tom badly. What is it with him clashing with rodents? He said he reached in to put food by Houdini, and Harry ran across the cage, grabbed his finger with his paws, and bit him! I had to laugh at him about it, of course.

“How cute,” Palma said when I gave her the Christmas card through the trap, then she asked why they moved us downstairs. I told her, and she thanked me for the card.

I was pleasantly surprised by her reaction! I was worried I’d offend her or that it wouldn’t be allowed, but what could she do anyway? Throw me in jail? I thought there was a slight chance, though, that she’d tell me it was inappropriate, she couldn’t accept it, never do that again, and so on and so forth. I’ll bet I’m the only one who made her a card, too. Most people hate Palma. She’s a real stricty.

Tina kind of likes me, but she’s harmless. No, she’s not my type. She may be over 30, but I don’t do druggies, and I don’t normally like blondes and light eyes, either. When Kim first told me that 90% of these inmates are gay or bi, I thought she was exaggerating, but there does seem to be an awful lot of them.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 20, 2000 Right on again with the vibes – Rosa is pregnant. And she won’t do the right thing either and abort it, or at least give it up for adoption. She’s being selfish and cruel to that kid if you ask me, but I still love my buddy and I know it has to be her decision. But if she has that kid, that’s going to be one more person for her to have to miss and worry about, and imagine how that poor kid’s going to feel with its mother in jail or maybe even in prison for years and years!

Maybe Tina’s right when she guessed that maybe it was an accident due to neglect, so God’s blessed her with this kid, and she’s going to get out of here soon enough but I doubt it. Things don’t usually work out that well, and God’s not a very sympathetic God.

The craziest black bitch I ever met lives just a few doors down. It goes back and forth between screaming about the devil and singing in a voice that sounds more like it’s whining or even yelling at times.

The older lady next to us, who’s also Ad-Seg, seems to be as hyper as Melinda which would make me seem like I’m in a coma, but Tina said she seemed normal when they spoke. Yeah well, I don’t know if I’d trust Tina’s definition of the word normal.

I’m glad Rosa lent Tina her radio when she went on her legal visit. That way I can write without Tina’s non-stop mouth going.

I asked Tom yesterday, and he says I have no fines or restitution to pay. But how can he know for sure everything will be OK when I get out before talking to the PO? He said he’ll explain it to me when I get out. I can’t wait to hear this one!

I couldn’t even take a shower today because the water was so cold. I grieved the cold water and air temperature. I miss the boiling 110-degree days I used to bitch about. I’m sick of the never-ending cold in this fucking place. Jails are miserably freezing!

I hope Palma’s on tonight, but if not, she should be on tomorrow.

I heard the crazy black bitch shout really loud to someone about singing for hours because all the white inmates call her names or some shit like that. Then on her hour out, while I was listening to music, Tina said she was reciting my name and birth date from my ID card that’s in the door before running off to yell at other people. What? Is she going around getting the names of everyone who’s white? Why isn’t this loony tune in a funny farm?!

Tina made air freshener, or tried to, by mixing shampoo, water and bits of deodorant in an empty spray pump bottle.

Got a Chanukah card from Mom, Mary and Dave. It was nice and I wrote them back. I even sent Bob a letter just for the hell of it. I’m curious to see if I get a response. I wonder if he’s still alive. I think he’s due to get out in ‘06. He ain’t getting our PO Box address, though.

I’m still not sure what to make of Rosa, whose lawyer says she may have many years to do. I may not want my own kid like I did years ago, but the thought of a possible baby killer makes my blood boil. How can God allow it?! So many people are quick to be against abortion, yet they don’t realize just how much better off a lot of these kids would be if they didn’t exist. I wish I had been aborted, even though my parents had money and were never in jail.

It’s still hard for me to picture Rosa deliberately killing a kid. One thing’s for sure, though – it’s no myth when they say Hispanics are filthy and lazy. We have to coax her into doing her share of the sweeping and mopping, and she stinks because she goes days without showering. They really are filthy. They don’t like clean. Not clean things, not clean bodies, not clean anything.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 19, 2000 Saw Tom today. True to my vibes, he still hasn’t heard anything from the PO or bar association. He still believes I’ll get an early kick-out, but I’m rapidly losing hope. “Is that pessimism or vibes?” he asked me.

“Logic,” I told him.

He says Mary says she sent me a letter. Hope I get it today.

He also said Houdini scared him by standing up, along with the hairs on his neck, as if to attack him when he was trying to get him to go home one night. He said he really thought he was going to get him good and he had to get the tube, put cheese in it, and bring him home in that.

He said all he’s heard around the house is one engine-gunning spree, but no music. That’s because I’m not there. Either way, that place could never get a fraction of the noise that’s in this place.

As much as I want out of here, if there’s anything better about this place than Valleyhead and Brattleboro, it’s that they don’t run you ragged from 7 AM to 10 PM and you can be up and about all night listening to music, writing, or reading. They also let you have a few visits a week here and order all the junk food you could possibly want. Also, I know when I’m getting out of here, but I never knew when I’d get out of the other places till shortly before I did.

So far, Officer Palma is the best-looking DO, Pérez is the friendliest, and Rule was the most helpful.

Believe it or not, I started to fall asleep after dinner and then jogged in place to 5 songs, but people yelling and Rosa’s crying woke me up. Rosa and I both had our homesick spells.

It’s amazing how I can sleep here. For the most part, anyway, and keep a schedule, even if it’s one I’m not used to.

Tina told me about an inmate who had her computer genius boyfriend change her release date. Wish Tom could do that for me! She got caught, though, and got 3 years for it. It’s impossible to destroy or alter all the records, anyway, because they keep stuff on paper too, and not just electronically.

Loca next door has switched from bunk-banging to begging. I’d rather her beg for food she’s not going to get, than bash the doors and walls on and off like she does.

Tina was a major sucker on our hour out, letting herself be used by all the beggars. I’d never be anyone’s slave like that! I’d tell them to take care of their own shit on their own timeout. I can see a favor here and a favor there, but there were 3 or 4 of them demanding half a dozen things.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 18, 2000 Commissary came without any problems and Rosa got a lot of stuff too, including a radio. Since Christmas and New Year’s Day just have to fall on Mondays, commissary will be the following Wednesdays instead.

I made Palma a Christmas card. I drew a candy cane on the front and wrote: Merry Christmas. Inside on the left, I wrote: Hey Palma, you’re a good singer and a cool DO! On the right, in Spanish, I wrote: Merry Christmas & Happy New Year. Then I signed my name and wrote: Yes, I promise to behave.

As funny as it may sound, it’d really piss me off if I had gotten a 2 for 1. It’d be so frustrating knowing I could cut my time in half if only I could sleep and keep a schedule in the tents!

Unbeknownst to Tina, Rosa swiped a razor. We use it for our underarms only. I’m going to wait till I get out of here before I bother shaving my legs. I’d rather do that at home in a nice hot shower. Besides, no one sees my legs here, anyway.

Rosa showed me a couple of things. I was telling her I had no easy way of exercising my biceps in this place, and she showed me how she pushes with one arm against the other as you curl it upward. That gives you a little resistance.

She also showed me some nice designs for Palma’s card, since I didn’t really want to get into drawing. Not with these pencils and having no color. I did use Tina’s brown eyeliner pencil on parts of it, though. Tina never uses it. I guess some girl left it here. Also, the card is very small. I used the bottom half of the plain white paper my deposit info was on to make it.

I jogged in place with my radio clipped to me to half a dozen songs or so to burn all these extra calories. I’m beginning to doubt I’ll lose any more weight. Not with this weekly commissary.

When I looked at my calendar and saw how many days were crossed off, as opposed to those that weren’t, I burst out crying. It was so depressing. I’ve done barely a quarter of my time and I know I’m not getting out sooner. It’s just a feeling I have. No one gives a shit that I was fucked over by fucked up people within a fucked up system.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 17, 2000 Another day of Rosa not shedding one tear for her dead baby. I love Rosa; she’s been a great friend, making me smile and laugh throughout the night, but there are a couple of things that say she could be guilty. One is her lack of sadness, and two is that she thinks she’s pregnant. If she is guilty of more than neglect, then she probably is pregnant because that’s totally something God would do – watch a woman kill her child, then reward her with another one. God dumps kids on murderers all the time. So knowing they have kids like rabbits, and seeing her only cry a few times, leads me to believe there’s a possibility she could be guilty, though I still doubt it. The times she’s cried were over visits when most of us cry anyway, including myself, because we miss our loved ones and our homes. Who knows, though? Maybe it was neglect or maybe the husband’s the guilty one. Or maybe it’s just a case of denial or maybe she feels crying will only make it worse and harder to deal with.

Fucking Misery’s on today. Everyone hates Misery. She’s as by-the-book as Palma and worse. They call her Misery because she not only brings misery to those she encounters but also because of her resemblance to this character in the Stephen King movie Misery.

First I was woken up for breakfast, then our hour out which none of us wanted because it was barely 7 AM, then again when Misery came in to check the light and window. Then she tells us to take our pictures off the walls. I took my pictures down, but I intend to put them back up later.

At 35 years of age, I’m sick and fucking tired of being told what to do! My life is nothing but what everyone else but myself says I have to do or have to go or have to be. I even have to wear the clothes they say I have to wear, and I’m just so fucking fed up with being treated like a child! My life is never going to belong to me.

Fucking freeloaders, Paul, judge and pigs!!!

Palma’s on again tonight. That’s 3 nights this week!

It’s around 8:00 now and Tina’s gone to bed.

Palma was in a good mood, singing Christmas songs. In Spanish, I told her to sing Felíz Navidad, but she misunderstood me and thought I was wishing her a merry Christmas. “Gracías,” she said.

So on her next walk, I asked in English if she knew the song and would sing it, but she said (with a friendly smile) she didn’t know it. It was nice to see this serious gruff loosen up for a change. She opened the door, rather than the trap, when the trustee was serving dinner so I could get a better look at her.

Tina says Palma’s all masculine, but I disagree. Yes, she’s somewhat masculine, but to me, she’s feminine, too. Her hair’s feminine and she has gorgeous eyes. Nice smile, too. Only her nose isn’t very nice and she doesn’t have a great body either, although it’s really hard to see through her uniform. I don’t care so much about bodies as I do faces. I’m a face person because that’s what you see most of the time. I also don’t like ultra-feminine as much as I used to. I guess we lipstick lesbians, such as I’d be considered to be, really do prefer the bigger, stronger more masculine types that they can feel protected by.

Last night Rosa and I were playing this game where we’d put names to various globs of toothpaste under the upper bunks, depending on their shape.

If her commissary order goes through without any problems, she’ll have a radio tomorrow night. I hope she won’t always be singing to it when she gets hyped up (it’s bad enough dealing with her BO and bad breath)! Unlike most people, though, she’s usually pretty respectful when I’m trying to read or write.

I made a $23 order. I better get it, too!

In the afternoons, I can usually tell what time it is by where the slat of sunlight is on the wall. Someone apparently wrote the times in the different places the light hits, but of course, the angle will change with the seasons.

Just had my typical mid-cycle bleeding which goes on for a few hours. I’ll get another gush in about a week, the week before my period. My tits still get sore before periods, even without caffeine.

The black bitches were at each other’s throats again earlier. Screaming and threatening one another from their cells.

I went right along with the bitches, though, in yelling at Crazy next door when she was out on her hour. We brought her to tears, but I have no pity for her what with the way she behaves. Maybe she’ll learn something from this. In fact, she hasn’t gone bunk-banging at all today. It’s lessened since she got her meds, but as soon as she can’t get her way, the banging starts.

I flipped Misery off when she was in the tower. I’m pretty sure she saw me, but I don’t care either way. I’m sick of being told what to do. She never wrote me up, though. I guess sometimes they find it easier to ignore you and pretend they didn’t see or hear you do something you’re not supposed to do. It saves them a lot of paperwork.

Rosa and I both cried earlier. I hadn’t cried much since I last saw Tom, and I was laying on my bed crying for a while before Rosa realized I was crying, and hugged me, then began crying too, telling me to try not to be so sad so it doesn’t make me sick.

I’m just sooo homesick for Tom, the animals, the house, etc. Those freeloaders really stole my life, and my body, too. Because of them, I can’t cut my nails, take a shower when I want, etc. They own my whole life and my body, too. They robbed me of my husband, pets and home, and stole any control I may have had over my own body, too. This is one of those things we assume only happens to others. Only other people get framed, but never us!

I FUCKING HATE these sickos!!!!!!!!!!

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 16, 2000 When I see Tom Tuesday, I’ll have to remind him to call and cancel my dentist appointment that was to be on the 21st (the fucking freeloaders even control my teeth!), not that they won’t be expecting the call. Somebody there has to have heard about this shit.

Tina suggested I have Tom check into something called rule 32 time cut, but I’m sure it’ll be just another dead end.

Another thing is, she says the probation department’s main concern is the fees, and that the sooner you pay your fees, the sooner they’ll let you go. That, I find hard to believe, but it’s another thing I’ll mention to Tom.

It’s almost 9:00 and Tina’s getting ready to go to bed. Rosa and I will be up late.

We were looking through magazines and I found a cute picture of a squirrel. Well, Rosa found it for me. I’ll send it home to scan into the computer when I get home.

The first half of the day, which had to be while I was trying to sleep, was noisy. The black bitches were screaming their asses off. You got these bitches standing 5 feet apart, yet they still yell at the top of their lungs as if they were yards and yards apart or deafer than a doorknob. Crazy next door went Bunk-banging a few times, too.

I’m sick of having our hour out so damn early. Most of the time we have it between 7 – 9 AM. Can’t we have it in the afternoons or evenings for a change? We rarely ever do.

I’m still learning more Spanish words. My vocabulary is good, but my grammar needs work. I understand Rosa for the most part, but sometimes I have to have her speak slower, or write. Sometimes I can’t figure out what a certain word means, since I know most, but not all Spanish words, and it’s pretty challenging because I can’t ask her in English what a word means.

The Spanish alphabet isn’t pronounced like it is in English, so when I spell English words to Rosa, I have to say the letters so she can understand them.

Palma’s on tonight and her hair looks great. She has it in two French braids with her bangs pulled down in front. I like her better with bangs, rather than with her hair swept back off her forehead. She’s quite a looker! Rosa and Tina tease me about liking her (in a good-natured way, of course). Tina’s bi and Rosa’s straight.

I told Nottelmann the Santa joke Tina told me. Trying hard to suppress a laugh, she softly mumbled, “That’s wrong,” and walked off, making sure to keep a professional air about her. Hopefully, she repeated the joke to Palma. She probably did.

Tina says she’ll send a letter to our PO Box whenever she gets to the tents (she thinks she’ll end up there) to let me know if Rule’s still there. She may get there before I leave, so Tom will have to read the letter to me over the phone since inmates can’t write to each other. From what I gather, Rule’s been there since at least ‘96. I think she’ll be there between now and April so I can send her a thank you note when I get out.

I was absolutely dumbfounded to learn that commissary credited back the money for the order I never got on my birthday! I really didn’t think they’d own up to their mistake no matter how obvious it was.

With the exception of Tina, who wanted to hear my whole life story, I decided that when people ask, I’m just going to say I’m an only child whose parents were killed in a car crash. I’m sick of hearing how “fucked up” it is that I don’t talk to my folks when in truth it’d be fucked up if I did. Why would I want to associate with such mean, vindictive control freaks who’ve done nothing but lie to me and let me down, just because they created me? I don’t owe these people here, or anyone else for that matter, any explanations as to why I don’t talk to them. A lot of people just don’t get it. If they’ve got good, loving parents, they can’t understand. Madeline, who felt the need to lie to her mother and tell her she wanted an abortion when she really didn’t – now that’s fucked up. If you can’t be yourself and be honest with someone – that’s fucked up.

All’s quiet at the moment, but sometimes, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I was in a psych hospital and not a jail.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 15, 2000 After being woken up for breakfast, then our hour out at 9:00, I was sleeping well till the fucking loud-mouthed black bitch woke me up – fucking MFing bitch! I’m still in the city, still being woken up by these subhuman pieces of shit! Even Rosa hates them because of how loud, obnoxious, rude, selfish, vicious, vindictive and spiteful they are, and this is before I even told her that they’re the reason I’m in this hell hole. So, I didn’t influence her opinion, is what I’m saying.

Rosa was arraigned today. She’s been asleep, so I’ll find out more later.

We spoke in Spanish a lot last night after Tina crashed while it was unusually quiet. We talked mostly about our homes, food and animals. She misses her home in Mexico and regrets coming to the US. I regret moving too, as much as I love our new home/land. I knew God would get me for escaping the city (or trying to). I just didn’t know the punishment would be this severe!

Second shift is on now. It looks like Palma’s not on, but Nottelmann is. Good. I need to pass that kite, as they call notes in this place, about trying to keep Rosa and I together.

Thank God Tina reads a lot so I don’t have to listen to her babbling, although I appreciate her getting me up for gown exchange this morning. Since I can’t exchange thermals here, I have to wash it in the shower.

I helped myself to one of Tina’s toothbrushes. I figured, oh well. She’s going to be getting indigent for quite a while; 1 toothbrush a week is more than she needs. She uses my shampoo and shit like that, so it’s not like we haven’t been sharing. Sharing is what this place is all about. I’ve given Rosa shampoo and lotion, too.

This week I’m getting Tina 2 candy bars for 6 envelopes.

Tina’s not too hard to live with. She’s better than crazy Melinda and loud-mouth Lora, but I also wouldn’t miss her if we were no longer cellies.

It’s late evening and Tina and I actually had fun talking with each other, swapping stories about our lives, both good and bad. She kept wanting to chat, saying I was no fun after getting my radio, so I said – what the hell? It wouldn’t hurt to entertain her for a while. It actually felt good to bitch about life, even if that’s all I ever do lately. Tina had her share of sob stories to tell, too. Like the time she hitchhiked and was raped in a field by two guys 20 years ago.

I didn’t know this till today, but she told me she felt neglected (I guess you could say a little jealous, too) when Rosa first joined us and we hit it off and were always having fun gabbing in Spanish. It’s a good feeling to know that if it weren’t for me, Rosa would have a much harder time here, just like I would’ve if it hadn’t been for Kim.

Tina told me a good joke: Why doesn’t Santa have any kids? Because he only cums once a year, and that’s down the chimney.

Dinner was one of the most filling dinners I’ve had here. It was chicken, cabbage, lettuce, potato salad, bread and ice cream.

I worry that they may try to force me to pay more than just the standard $40-a-month probation fee. According to Tina, they really rip you off blind, and make you pay restitution fees, too. How much more must I pay for sending a lousy set of journal excerpts?! Why don’t they just execute me for it? When is the so-called punishment ever going to be enough and end? I can’t begin to put in words how humiliating it’s been having my life turned upside down and inside out by my own tormentors. They always win and I always lose. There’s no beating them or the system or getting them out of my life!

The sick fuck next door hasn’t gone bunk-banging in nearly 24 hours, but every half hour to an hour it makes a few bangs just to remind us all it still exists. It’s one thing being out in the real world with so many attention-needy people, and another being in jail with them!

I wish the little nutjob would get a celly or two. That way that bunk bed would be weighted down with someone, and I’d think any cellies she may have wouldn’t put up with her regularly timed bumps and bangs. If she’s not closed custody, then I’d bet she’s Ad-Seg. All the crazies get Ad-Segged.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 14, 2000 Another day in Estrella Jail, and damn do I miss home! I’m sick and tired of being confined like this, never having any peace and quiet. No space, no privacy, and now I can’t even cut my fucking nails! I’m so sick of having to talk and answer questions during meals when all I want to do is sit and eat in peace. I’m tired of being asked questions while trying to escape with my radio.

The nights are a little better. Rosa and I tease Tina in her sleep. Last night I rubbed red lipstick into the crotch of Tina’s spare clean panties, making them look like period stains.

I see Becky from time to time, but now I’m not so sure if she’ll make a good celly because she seems to be a bit of a beggar. The first time she wanted me to pass a kite for her, then she wanted a book. I like her, but I wonder if she’d constantly bug me for my commissary if we celled together.

After what I’ve been through, I don’t trust anybody. I still fear I’m going to get stuck with a monster PO that’ll try to make my life hell, not that it already hasn’t been made to be that way. What’s scary is knowing that all she has to do is tell the pigs I violated my probation, even if I didn’t, and they’ll believe her, pick me up and throw me back in here, and of course, I may have to violate if she makes impossible demands of me. I know she’s going to try telling me to do shit she knows I can’t possibly do. I wouldn’t just violate and stick around, though, if I were truly forced to do so. I’d violate and run.

Now, what could Tom possibly know that I don’t? He wouldn’t discuss it, saying not all conversations are private. It’s a lot more private in the visiting area than on the phone, so it must be illegal. Unless, of course, he just said this to cheer me up because I was pretty tearful (I just can’t deal with this madhouse!). He better not be fucking lying to me! Anyway, I told him to briefly put it in a letter in the fingerspelling font, as long as it’s a solid, sure thing that can really help me, and not just some hunch, belief or feeling.

He said he didn’t have money for stamps, so the other letters won’t go out till tomorrow. He wanted me to have what money he did have for commissary, which was very thoughtful of him. I just hope he doesn’t delay these letters too much longer, as useless as I know they’ll be.

Mom’s doing OK and now Mary doesn’t know what the hell’s going on. A second biopsy said she didn’t have cancer, and I guess they just can’t get a big enough sample to test.

He said Mary heard about Rosa’s case on the news, but all he knows is that they said there were signs of child abuse. What about Rosa’s husband? Just how innocent is he? They say they’re not sure about him.

Although I can’t see Rosa beating a kid any more than I can see Tom beating one, there is one thing that bugs me. Rosa doesn’t seem very remorseful. She has cried a few times, but most of the time she’s all smiles and laughs. Is she in denial, or what? I asked her if she was sad and she said yes, but it would make her sick if she was always down and crying. I guess everyone has their own way of dealing with things.

The Maury Povich Show was here filming today. I saw them on my way to my visit.

My teeth are slowly but surely shifting, and by the time I get out of here, they’ll be noticeably crooked. See? I really do get punished for trying to change things about my body and life. Straighten my teeth, and God makes sure I can’t retain them so they can be crooked again. Move out of the city and God sees to it that I’m forced right back into it.

It’s about 10:00 now, and tonight it’s the direct opposite of how it was last night. It’s dead quiet. No screaming, no banging. This is the ideal time for reading and writing. I use the radio more when it’s noisy and when I get really bored. It’s also good for escaping Tina’s chatter.

As much as I dread ending up back in a 4-man cell (and I know I will), I want to hurry up and get over there so I can cut my nails. I should be there before New Year’s. I just wish Rosa could be with me no matter who else I’m forced to cell with! But that’s just not possible, even if she remains in Ad-Seg.

I’ve been slacking off on my descriptions. So, Palma, who’s working tonight, would probably be described as plain or mean-looking by some people. She doesn’t have a great body and she needs a nose job, but she’s still good-looking as far as I’m concerned. She’s about 5’ 4”, slightly plump, with black curly hair and dark eyes. She almost looks like she could be part black because her hair’s kind of kinky.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 13, 2000 It’s around midnight and the black bitches are still screaming at each other. Why did God put these creatures on this earth? I fucking go through hell to get away from them, just to end up being stuck with them all over again. Why do I always get punished for rebelling against or trying to change what the Gods have ordered for me? Is it really that important to them that I be driven crazy by loud, obnoxious black assholes? What did I ever do to these people to deserve this? I just can’t get away from them!!!

I listened to some music both by myself and with Rosa.

It’s change of shift now. I hope Nottelmann and Palma are on tomorrow. They only work here twice a week lately.

This place was so fucking noisy until around 4 AM. DOC got Bucket, but we still have other loud-mouth blacks shooting off at the mouth non-stop.

Whoever’s next door was slamming the bunk against the door to get a blanket.

People! Fucking people! I hate them! And the more I try to run from them, the more they seem to be thrown in my face. Why can’t I just go home and live in peace? There’s a reason, Tina says.

Yeah, to torture the hell out of me! Everyone tells me there’s a reason for this shit, yet no one can give me a better one than the only one I can come up with.

Kara, one of the very few sane ones in this sad, disgusting place, came and saw me today. I updated her on what’s been going on and told her that I’m beginning to doubt anyone’s going to care enough to help get me out of here sooner. Like Kara said, all it takes is one person who cares.

But where are they? How do I get their attention? I just don’t see, the more I think about it, what the governor, and other people Tom wrote to, can do to help me. And why would they care? It’s not their problem. Nobody cares when they have nothing to gain by helping someone else.

Rosa just went out for a legal visit. The poor girl has got an infected tooth that’s all swollen.

Tina’s writing a letter. Although she’s been quieter, she still talks a lot. I try not to ask her too many questions because then she just gets into a huge discussion with herself about it. The amount of self-chatter in this place is astonishing. Religion and people talking to themselves. That seems to be the main theme of this place.

Just when they finally started making it comfortable here by giving us some heat, it’s cold again. It’s colder out, from what I hear on the radio, so that’s why. They don’t bother to adjust the heat with the weather.

Rosa and I were just listening to the radio, and Tina’s gone to bed. That is, till the psycho next door wakes her up slamming the bunk against the door. I’ll be waking her up on our hour out tomorrow to let her know just what I’ll do to her if I ever get my hands on her. When’s the system going to learn that jail’s not the place for crazies? They belong in psych wards. The whole pod was pissed at this sicko. Late last night she was banging for a blanket and today it was over her meds. Doesn’t she see that that’s not going to get her what she wants when she wants it? The DOs can’t even hear her when they’re in the tower.

I can’t live without this radio I never thought I’d end up getting. Because we’re right next to Crazy, as our loving God would have it, it doesn’t drown out her banging sprees, but when the bitch gets to screaming, it’s a great escape.

I’m so sick of people. People, people, people!!! I just want some space and privacy! I want peace and quiet and time alone! I’m so sick of being forced to be with people and in places I don’t want to be! Will I ever find freedom in this life? I want out and I want my old life back. The one I had till all this shit started. But that’ll never be no matter how long I live. Even if this were all over now, I’d just get hit with some other long-term bullshit.

There’s a reason for this, Rosa says.

If one more person says that to me, I’m going to break them in half!

They’re taking the sicko next door to medical in cuffs. I hope they drug the fucker into a coma! But sadly enough, I know she’ll be back and banging about something else later. I just wish I could have 5 minutes alone with the sack of shit!

My anger seems to be making Rosa very nervous (Tina won’t even look at me), so I think I’ll go try to smile for her sake, and bitch more later.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 12, 2000 It’s about midnight now, and I did get my commissary this week, but not without being ripped off first. The MFs did take the $20 or so worth of shit I ordered last week that I never got. How the fuck can they charge me for something I never signed for? Fucking incompetent fools! I’d like to stuff them in their little gray carts, lock them in good, then wheel them down the fucking hall and into the wall at a good 80 MPH! Anyway, I’m going to bitch about it (bitching is my specialty around here), but I know it won’t do me a damn bit of good.

I spoke to Tom, who said he still hasn’t heard from my PO (fuck her too!), and he says he’ll put $20 in for me before next Monday.

I’m in a foul mood right now. That’s why Tina’s up on her bunk afraid to utter a sound. She won’t even look at me. She did tell me earlier, though, I was a whiny, bratty bitch. And I’m damn proud of it too, and the best in my department!

Anyway, I knew Tom wouldn’t hear from the PO. He wonders if it’s just too soon for her to respond, but as I told him, it doesn’t take a psychic to know she doesn’t give a shit, and I’m beginning to have serious doubts about getting out early. Nonetheless, Tom’s sending a few letters out at a time.

I got a radio, which sounds pretty good for a cheap piece of shit. A 5-fucking-dollar radio they charge $27 for. Rosa listened with me, using one earbud while I used the other. She loves Spanish music.

I shared some food with Rosa and Tina because I felt bad for them not having anything.

Rosa and I have a lot of fun teasing Tina and Tina doesn’t mind. I’ll mime, for example, tearing off some tissue, blowing my nose, then shoving it in Tina’s mouth while she’s sleeping. Rosa does similar shit, too. One time I picked up my lipstick and made like I was going to play connect the dots where Tina stuck herself in the arm with a zillion needles, and nearly lost it when Rosa made like she wiped her crotch with some toilet paper before shoving it up Tina’s nose.

I taught Rosa many English words last night.

I’m going to see if Tom can check into her case and try to find out more about what’s going on. I’d love to know what the pigs have, if anything, that led them to believe this is murder and not neglect or an accident.

Fucking pigs! They need to change that motto “to protect and serve” they got on their cruisers to something a bit more truthful like “to harass and control.”

I also want to see if he can load me up a Spanish/English dictionary to go with my English one on the computer.

I saw Brea yesterday, who asked why I was here, and saw white Johnson through the window. I waved to her and she nodded and smiled in return. What a nice ass that woman has!

I found Becky downstairs yesterday and she told me she’s now PC. Good. That’s one more person I know I’ll get along with if we end up together. That’s also 5 people that I know of, waiting to go to M. I passed a kite to Becky’s old pal for her through the trustee. It took a while too, because the DO was hanging around.

This pod had been fairly quiet for a change till they brought Bucket back, the loud MF. Always the fucking blacks! For a while, I couldn’t figure out who I detested more, blacks or Mexicans. Now I know it’s definitely blacks! Anyway, Bucket, the one that bullied Tina out of M, and her wife, are getting DOC’d out of here any day now.

Tina’s also been stuck with Jessica, who’s gone home (that’s why I haven’t seen her). Tina, Bucket and Jessica were cellies, and Jessica ate Bucket out so she could use her radio. And Bucket wanted to kick Jessica’s ass for calling her a bitch. Yeah, that’s something Jessica would do and something a black bitch would get all hot and bothered about. These bitches are so fucking loud, aggressive and vicious! So rude, selfish and totally stuck on themselves!

Fucking mother-fucking black bitch! Bucket’s out on her hour yelling with some other blacks. Please, DOC, come get this bitch tonight!

Jessica’s back. She was only out 2 weeks and she went right back to the crack. What a stupid loser! She’s such a dumb, hopeless case that a part of me feels bad for her.

I’m going to give Nottelmann a tank requesting she try and keep Rosa and I together, even though I understand she can’t make any promises.

I’m pissed because some asshole stole the nail clippers (probably a trustee) and now I can’t cut my nails.

This cell is so ugly. There is easily a dozen tubes worth of toothpaste on these walls and the underside of the upper bunks.

Sent out a letter to Mom, Paula, and Tom, along with journals.

I love having a radio more than I thought I would in here. I can just check these loud, selfish black bitches out anytime I want to. I exercise to the music, too.

Rosa and Tina have been great as far as not begging goes. I appreciate it, too.

Commissary also ripped Rosa off. Indigent is supposed to give you 10 sheets of paper, not 8. I gave her a few sheets from my pad.

Tom visited today and I told him all about Rosa and Tina. I asked if he thought it’d be good to try sleeping together when I come home since I’ve amazingly learned to sleep through all this noise (although I still get woken up at times), and he said that’d be a good time to try. I slept through Deanna’s snoring, after all. That leaves only movement as a possible problem. Movement isn’t an issue in here, obviously, because I don’t share a bed with anyone.

Dennis returned the clothes I left in his trailer.

Tom’s going to call Helen about visiting, in case she never got my letter.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2000 I better get my commissary tomorrow night!

My wish came true twice and we had yogurt for lunch yesterday and the day before.

Tom sent me a copy of the PO’s letter. It was a good letter. As figured, though, neither of us has heard from her. So, if there’s still no mail from her come Monday’s mail pickup, the other letters will go out Tuesday.

He also mailed me my birthday card and a picture of me holding Butter Rum in my hand, and one of Scuttles. He said Harry bit him lightly. Glad it was light, but even so, he sure does have a way of getting bit by rodents!

He said Mary and Mom didn’t know I could get mail, and that they asked about visiting me, but Tom told them to wait till we know what’s going on with me. I’m beginning to wonder when and if I’ll ever know that.

It’s nice to know they still care. He says there’ll be a pile of holiday gifts from them waiting for me when I get out, and that they decided not to tell other family members about this because it’s none of their business.

Yes, it is. The media made sure of that. I know they know about this shit. Whether or not they believe it – I don’t know, and personally, I don’t care what they think. I know the truth and so do Tom, Mom, Mary and Dave. And Helen and Paula, too.

I also got a Christmas card from Paula and a quick note asking how I am, etc. I’ll send letters out Tuesday (commissary comes late on Monday) to Tom, Mom and Paula.

I have become very close to Rosa. She’s easily the best celly I’ve ever had. No, I’m not attracted to her, but we have so much fun talking in Spanish. This is the most Spanish I’ve ever spoken!

We discussed her case, and from what she told me, her 1-year-old daughter was killed when she fell and hit her head in the tub when she stepped out of the bathroom. That’s neglect, not murder.

I just can’t imagine for the life of me, this easy-going, funny girl having it in her to kill her kid. Kids fall all the time, but I don’t know if she’ll be able to prove it was an accident. Technically, she doesn’t have to prove it was an accident. The state has to prove it was murder, but Rosa? A murderer? I just can’t see it!

Rosa French braids as nicely as Kim did. She braided mine and Tina’s hair.

It’s about 9:00 now and we have all filled out our commissary sheets. All Rosa and Tina are getting is the indigent package.

Rosa’s so funny and so much fun to chat with. Speaking Spanish is a game to me, in a sense. I’d actually rather be with her than alone. Not even Kim and Jessica had me laugh as much.

Last night, Palma came in to talk to Rosa in Spanish. She knows I know a lot of Spanish and have been helping Rosa. It was the most attention I’ve had from her since, even if some of it was negative.

Tina and I got on each other’s nerves last night, but today all 3 of us were laughing over it. Tina was trying to sleep and we were being too loud so she started bitching at us. Tina sleeps at night and Rosa and I sleep during the day.

When Palma came by I asked that she move Tina before there was a fight, and Tina was like, “I don’t want to fight!”

I didn’t either, even though she was being such a grump and I was getting fed up.

Anyway, Palma was like, “I’m not moving anybody. Learn to compromise, or you can get into it right now and I’ll get you with my spray. Then after I get you guys cleaned up and written up, then you can be separated.”

We quieted down real fast at that point since Palma wasn’t about to budge! That’s Palma for you. Nottelmann moves people and Palma threatens to mace them.

Even so, Tina and I were carrying on like kids, calling each other spoiled, bitchy and all kinds of things, then Palma starts mimicking us in a funny way in rapid Spanish.

Tina went to sleep and I came up with the idea of Rosa and I writing rather than talking. I read Spanish better than I hear it anyway. We did whisper some, though, like Palma said when she was lecturing us on compromising. She said to Tina, “These guys are night people. Rosa’s up stressing cuz she’s got a lot of shit to deal with and just came in, and cuz she has no one to speak for her” (meaning, she’s up when I’m up). Then she told us to talk quietly.

All of us ended up sleeping well enough and quite late, too. Rosa and I were up early for a couple of hours, though, when we had our time out.

Chambers was on, so I got to say hi to her. She’s way cool.

Tina was quieter today. Rosa and I were talking and laughing while Tina read her stupid romances. I guess Tina felt like she was around a couple of silly kids, but she didn’t mind. Her romances are even sillier, and I told her so.

I’ve been helping Rosa like Kim helped me when I first came here.

I’m glad Rosa’s aunt came to visit her.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 8, 2000 Wow! It only took two medical tanks to get a refill on my inhaler and I didn’t have to wait a year, either! That was way faster than I thought it’d be.

I weighed myself at medical. I’m 111 pounds.

I saw Becky at medical. She says she’s here in this pod now. I’ll have to see her tomorrow on my hour out, but is she PC or de-seg? I didn’t get a chance to ask her.

On the way back, Nottelmann was my escort. I let her know how much I hate M’s 4-cells, and she said that although she couldn’t make any promises, she’d try her best to 2-man cell me.

In other news, we got another celly (we always get grouped in threes when Palma’s on). This one’s great, though. Her name’s Rosa G, she’s 20 years old and speaks no English. She looks more Indian than Spanish with her straight shoulder-length hair. She’s about 5’ 3” and is pretty chunky.

I’m amazed at how much Spanish I remember. We’re having virtually no problems communicating. The one thing I don’t like about Rosa is that she stinks! Still, I thanked Palma for putting Rosa in here.

She just arrived at the jail today, and according to her papers, she’s in for child abuse and 2nd-degree murder.

I don’t believe it. I just can’t see this girl as being capable of doing any such thing. I know she’s innocent.

Tina went to court. It looks like she’s going to be here for at least a few months, but probably more.

It’s about 8:30 and both cellies are asleep. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or not that I’ll be sleeping when they’re up. I feel like I have a little space and privacy being up with them asleep, but will I be able to sleep well with them up? I hope so. They’re more mellow and less rude about that than Lora and Madeline were. Tina and Rosa can’t talk much anyway, since Tina doesn’t know Spanish, but I’m worried Tina will try anyway because she loves to talk, period. That’s the only thing I don’t like about her.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 7, 2000 I feel so much better now that I’ve had a shower. I was beginning to wonder if they’d ever let me out, or if they screwed up and listed my psych session as my hour out. That was the latest I’ve ever been out. Nearly 10:30. There was no trustee on when I was out, so I had to sharpen these pencils by hand. If the commissary could be reliable enough, I’d just order new pencils weekly. They’re only 10¢ each.

Naturally, I had to deal with the demands when I was out. Yesterday it was someone begging for a change of clothes. I played deaf with her, but tonight’s pest was hard to ignore. The freeloaders yelled in my ear as I walked by to get a lighter for her from a few cells down. I did it, even though it was stupid of me, the one who always gets caught, and who could’ve gotten in deep shit. Well, I ain’t going to make a habit of doing their dirty work for them, that’s for sure. I guess it’s just that as a former smoker, I understood their cravings.

I found a slip of paper in here when I returned from the shower, saying I’m eligible for work furlough. But I’m not interested! So I’m going to fill out a tank letting them know I live way out in Maricopa, don’t want to get caught up in anything in the city, and have other plans for when I get out (farming), not that it’s any of their business, and maybe then they’ll leave me alone. I’m also not interested in working for Joe. I heard all the money you make goes to the sheriff. Now why would I want to go to work for him or anyone else in this fucking corrupt system? That’d really be lowering myself, and I’ve been lowered enough by others already.

Now the question is – do I want to go through the big fight I’ll have to go through every couple of weeks when my inhaler runs out, or just forget it? I just don’t understand what the big deal is. I’ve already seen the doctor, so why can’t they just give the nurse a new fucking inhaler to give to me when she does her rounds? Is this just another form of punishment that goes with being in jail? Probably so, but it’s wrong. They shouldn’t be playing games when it comes to meds. Jail is hard enough as it is.

I’m amazed at how brave these mice are now. They eat right by my feet and look pretty good for jail mice. Not just because I’ve been feeding them well, but because of their fur. They look like they could pass for Fancy mice.

Dinner last night was pretty good. I actually got full for a change. I got a generous portion of plain chocolate ice cream that wasn’t fully melted, a beef patty (fake), and spinach leaves. I think they’re spinach leaves, anyway, which is better than the carrots we got my first 3-4 weeks here. I wish they’d serve yogurt for lunch! I hear they rarely do. I hope we don’t get eggs twice in a row for breakfast. We got cereal twice in a row, but I like cereal. It’s either cereal, waffles, or eggs for breakfast. Once we got cottage cheese. I wish they’d give us that again. For drinks, we get milk at breakfast, a small bottle of juice at lunch, and a cup of juice at dinner.

I wish I could go home! I can’t wait to get out of this dungeon of concrete and steel!

Now would be the perfect time for a radio. I could listen to music in between walks. Watch, I’ll get my commissary and a celly at the same time. Actually, I should have the celly long before I have the commissary.

It’s cold in here! I don’t think A’s getting any heat at all.

After breakfast, they came in with a stick to check to be sure the light fixtures and windows were secure. I woke up 4 times before I got up at noon for lunch, and then my hour out. My wish came true and we had yogurt for lunch. Even a fruit bar.

On my hour out I swept, mopped, got my pencils sharpened, a medical tank, and a grievance form. Tom said, when I saw him earlier, to keep putting in requests without taking the fit I took before. I’ll keep putting them in, but they keep ignoring them, yet Tom says that’ll look good for us in the end. I get copies of all my unanswered tanks, and they have to respond to grievances. The question is if I don’t pitch a “suicidal fit,” how long am I going to have to wait? I want to just forget it, rather than go through this fucking bullshit, but I’ll do it for Tom. My first tank went out on the 5th and tomorrow, the 8th, I’ll put my second one out. Come next Monday, though, I’ll grieve daily.

He called SS. The first time I was on SS was to get benefits through Art till I was 22, then I got on it for myself. What I didn’t know was that they keep me listed on their books as disabled all my life. All they did in ‘94 was suspend my payments. Tom’s having my medical records transferred from MA to their Snottsdale office. Once they arrive (probably after New Year’s) he’ll send me a release form to sign so he can pick up copies.

I misunderstood Tom about who got letters on Monday. The only one that’s gone out so far is the PO’s. He wants to give her a week’s response time. When she could care less about me to respond, then Tom may send other letters.

Tom thinks it’ll all work out when I get out of here. I hope he’s right because I see 1 of 3 things happening when I get out. I see me dying, us running, or us returning to PHX so I can get on a bus line so I can work because the PO won’t reason with me and accommodate me, and because SS denied my application to reinstate me.

A111

No more being alone. Now I’m with Tina W. Yes, she talks a lot, but she’s fairly tame and sane for a change. I think we’ll get along OK. That’s what I thought with Deanna, though, so you never know. For now, she seems easygoing enough. She’s older, too. She’s 40, and it’s nice to be with someone older for a change. She’s white, 5’ 4”, too thin, with shoulder-length strawberry-blond hair, light eyes, and lots of wrinkles.

She too, says prison is better than jail. They’ll even let you be with your girlfriend if you have one.

She confirms my worst fears, saying probation’s such a pain in the ass that she’d rather just do jail time. She’s been in jail a few times, as well as prison. She was in for forgery because she used credit cards that she knew were stolen, and now she’s in for drugs. She said her son was kidnapped and murdered years ago and it made her turn to coke. She has another 20-year-old son.

This is the same woman that was bullied out of M Dorm by that black bitch. The one that bragged about being in prison for 13 years.

I really appreciate Nottelmann’s seeing that I got in with a sane celly and for letting me get my old mattress. The old one that was in here was so hard, so I doubled them up and am quite comfy now. Well, as comfy as I can be for being in jail.

Tina has also had the privilege of celling with agent Tara, who supposedly returned to the tents. That’d mean she has to work. I didn’t think she had the mentality to work.

We had chicken tonight, but no dessert other than an apple. Tina gave me hers (because of her dentures) and her cottage cheese, too. I gave her my bland potatoes. She’s trying to gain weight, so I’ll give her most of my bread.

I told Tina about my case. She thinks what everyone else thinks – it’s all bullshit.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 6, 2000 Got a letter from Tom outlining the highlights of the letter he sent the PO, and yes, he even mentioned the freeloaders’ wrongdoings. The letter was well-written and to the point, but again, I question just what kind of a PO I’ve got. I’m sure I’ve got one of those I-don’t-give-a-fuck POs. She hasn’t even returned Tom’s call. He didn’t send all the letters out at once. He’s sending some this week, and the rest next Monday. I guess he wanted to leave a little reaction time in between and says I should hear from the PO by the end of this week.

Gee, I can’t wait!

He enclosed a picture of a mouse and the one of the iguana.

The time’s flying. Sometimes it seems that way, anyway. It seems to go fast from Monday to Thursday, but from Thursday to Monday, time seems to drag.

For the most part, I don’t remember my dreams. That’s because I’m already actually in jail. Once I get out, the nightmares will begin. Better that the nightmares occur in my sleep than in real life, like they are now, but I’m still not looking forward to all the nightmares I know I’ll have about being stuck back here once I get out.

I wish all my tanks could get me results as fast as the one to Kara did! I put in medical tanks this morning for a counselor and inhaler. Naturally, I didn’t get the inhaler. That’s going to be quite a fight. But I did get to see Kara. It turns out she’s just been super busy. I explained to her I needed to see someone, not just to get out of the cell and gab, but because that’s good documentation for me if I need it. She gave me a copy of the tank sheet and says she’ll give me documentation whenever we meet. I told her it didn’t have to be every week or for a full hour.

After showing her pictures of Tom and the animals, I filled her in on my being bounced around in M, then back to here. Also, on what Tom’s been up to. Your husband’s terrific, she told me, and she also said I was getting stronger, heading towards the door.

I hope!

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 5, 2000 Temple’s on tonight. She’s cool.

I love being by myself. If I have to be in this miserable place, couldn’t I just stay right here by myself? I wish!!!

I wonder if I’m going to end up being charged for my so-called “lost order?” I hope not! I’d rather not get it than be charged for shit I never got. Chavez was working the night we placed our orders. Would she deliberately chuck my form? I don’t know. I haven’t had a problem with her, but anything’s possible.

Johnson’s on 2nd shift again tonight. I wish Palma and white Johnson were on more often. And Nottelmann and Pérez, too.

The room stank of mice, so I swept and mopped, but that only made the smell worse.

I said hi to Becky again. I guess I’m a better lip reader than I thought because I understood her when she told me she goes to court on January 10th, among a few other things she said. She’s in A200, the unsentenced pod.

I’m still exercising daily, but not singing much lately.

Had a wonderful visit with Tom. He said he thinks I’ll get out earlier, but doesn’t know when. That enhanced my February vibe, but I don’t know. I don’t trust my vibes, given my circumstances, and I don’t want to get my hopes up. Nonetheless, we talked about him sending out letters to the mayor, the governor, the courts, etc.

He also typed my letter up to the PO and sent what he said was a hostile one of his own.

Not too hostile, I hope, or else he’ll be labeled a stalker. And if that PO’s black, they’ll call him a racist from the KKK. They may even refer to us both as Jack the Ripper. Society loves fancy labels. Especially the media.

He said he didn’t make any threats, naturally, but he implied threats pertaining to possible lawsuits when using words like disabilities, accommodate, and how poorly the courts handled things. He said that although the letter is only two pages, it took him two days to write it.

The sole reason I was on disability was because of my ear and being hard of hearing, not my mental state at the time. Well, he said that if worse came to worse and they insisted I work full-time out of the house, we can always try to get me back on disability, and they couldn’t do anything to me while the case was pending. I’d like my disability reinstated. The extra money wouldn’t hurt, but I can’t see it happening. I think they’ll just be like – lots of hard of hearing and deaf people work, so tough.

Tom says Harry’s very mellow and told me a couple of funny stories about Houdini. Houdini jumps up on the couch and even went to join him in bed! One night he couldn’t get him to go home after he let him out to run around and he was too tired to deal with it, so he said fuck it, and went to bed. After he’d been asleep a while, he suddenly felt something tugging on his hair!

Sleeping from around 4 AM to noon seems to be the only schedule I can keep in this place. It would’ve been ideal for me if I could’ve returned to the tents to work as an A Tower trustee from 3 PM-11 PM, but I know that’s just a dream. You can’t ask for what job/shift you have. If I could’ve done that, though, I’d see both Rule and Palma.

Ma’s leg is getting better and Mary’s still waiting around as far as what to do next about her cancer.

Still?!?!

So far, no one’s answered my tanks. Not classification or psych, so I put in another tank for classification, psych, and one to medical for an inhaler refill. Next comes the grievances, because I know they’re not just going to just give me a refill. No, they’ll have to play with me for a while first, the mother-fuckers!

I’ve got to see a therapist, any therapist, once every week or two while I’m here because it not only helps to get out of my cell and shit off my chest, but that’s also documentation for me that I may need someday.

The next words I gave for Tom to look up the signs to are jail, home and free.

I have a vibe about getting out of here in February. I hope so! February 5th, 9th and 14th stand out in my mind for some reason.

Someone told me there was a reason why I’m here. I can’t see any reason other than that something’s out to get me.

Tom was right – Ma did send me birthday money despite my being in here. Now he can order the doll care kit. I hope he got the electric razor that was going to be my Christmas present to him with the pennies I saved in my big old piggy bank. I’d feel bad if he didn’t, and as I told him, I already feel bad enough as it is. I mentally beat myself up every day along with the freeloaders for all the shit he’s had to endure on account of this, even though it’s not my fault. I worry about him out there, wondering if he’ll get in an accident, get ill, or decide never to see me again and whether or not he has plans to replace me. I know I’m just being paranoid and that if anyone’s going to stick by me, it’s him, but it’s because I was dumped by my parents that I get paranoid. When you can’t trust your own parents, who can you trust? But at the same time, I’m immune to being dumped and I wouldn’t hesitate to dump people myself if they gave me a good enough reason to. It takes a while to strike up a relationship, but it only takes a second to dump them and throw it all away.

The way Tom has stuck by me and understood me makes up for all those who did not. His letters, visits and praise help keep me going and I can’t wait to get out of here! Things I took for granted will be special and special things will be very special. I just hope it doesn’t take months before people read/respond to the letters! I know how busy they are.

The inmates here are not as they’re portrayed on TV. On TV they’re all drop-dead gorgeous and half of them beat the shit out of each other while the other half gets it on with each other. Of course, there are some gay/bi women as well as some fights, but not like on TV. And none of these inmates stand out in any way looks-wise.

If the PO says I have to work full-time and SS won’t reinstate me - then what? Do I kill myself right then and there, or do we run? Something’s trying to force me to remain the city girl I’ve been for the last 15 years! (minus the near year I was blessed enough to live in Maricopa)

I wish they made shirts smaller than the one I’m wearing. It’s past my ass, hanging off my shoulders, and makes me look fat because it’s so baggy. I don’t need any help looking fat!

It seems like I’ve had a million cellies, yet I’ve only had 8 so far.

I’m thinking of getting a radio, although I may live to regret it. People are going to beg to use it. They’re so rude at times, begging for people’s shit. I’m sorry some people are less fortunate, but that’s no reason to be rude. Next time I get candy begged off me, I may just be like – OK, you want some? Then cram it down their fucking throats so hard, nearly choking them to death on the shit.

They won’t be begging anymore.

Another good thing is that I can get what I want only. I stupidly let Lora talk me into getting a couple of things to make me a birthday cake. How rude, huh? Asking someone to buy things for their own birthday cake.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 4, 2000 A108

I’m back in A Tower after Deanna gave me a birthday present which got me out of that cell. Unlike Lora and Madeline, I never minded her snoring, but the moaning she was doing, especially moaning that seemed to be deliberate, was pissing me off. I went off on her and Deanna went off back, telling me she’d “get my ass” if I ever hollered at her again like I did. Although I didn’t really want to fight, I was seriously contemplating springing off my bunk and onto Deanna, when I heard the tall black DO called Tate was on her way by. Suddenly, I understood where Deanna was going with all this and we screamed at each other till the DO came in. I told the DO that being threatened wasn’t my idea of a birthday present and Deanna sort of lunged at me in a menacing way with the DO right there.

Tate said, “Happy birthday. Step out of the cell, please.”

As I waited downstairs like she instructed me to, I realized that the only place they could send me to was A Tower, since all the beds were taken, and since the third shift didn’t normally swap and shuffle people around. Sure enough, some guy DO, who was super nice, came and got me, and now I’m back with the mice and Palma. Palma’s not on tonight, though. Black Johnson and some other guy are on.

While I was waiting in M before I could get my shit, Madeline took Lora’s lock back and slipped a birthday card they made up last night in my manila envelope. The card was nice. They copied an inspirational poem and signed it. I would’ve given Lora the lock if Madeline hadn’t, though, because I obviously won’t be able to give Lora her commissary. I’ll have extra for myself this week.

Before I realized where Deanna was headed, I must say that I’m proud of myself for standing up to her. I learned a long time ago that turning the other cheek only invites people to mess with me even more and assume they can get away with it too, just because I’m little. I’m just glad we didn’t cell together like we had talked about!

When the guy brought me back here just after 6 AM, I was going to be in a downstairs cell, but its toilet was all clogged up. So I’m back in 108, the cell I was in the last time. I think this is the best cell in the pod. I was amazed at how clean it was, too. It was spotless. A trustee must’ve cleaned it. All I had to do when I was woken up at 11:30 for my hour out was shower. Then I slept till mid-afternoon.

I arrived here just in time for new stripes, sheets, panties, bras and towels. I didn’t know they did all that in one day. I need a new gown, but they don’t do gowns that often. I’m surprised they didn’t do socks. I guess they do whatever they feel like doing, whenever they feel like doing it.

During my hour out, the DO said he heard I was to be rolled up for work furlough. Again? I told him I didn’t think I was eligible for it, although I must be, and this worries me. Can they make me do it? Will it look bad to my PO if I don’t? Hey, it’s my life, I can’t keep a schedule here, and I’m not interested. Period. I’ll work at home, thank you, and for myself. Not for Joe Arpaio.

Also, I thought it through again, and PC’s the place to stay for sure if I can’t go to A400. The tents are not for me. God sent Officer Rule to be my savior that night for a reason!

I’m worried about my commissary. Will it be forwarded to me here? I’d hate to be charged for shit I never got, but you do have to sign for it, so that’s good. I just hope they bring it over and don’t return it.

I guess another good thing about my little squabble with Deanna is that that’s now one 4-man cell I couldn’t end up in when I go back there, instead of two. Deanna’s going to be there till February, so unless she moves, I can’t go back in that cell, and I’d think they’d put it in the computer about our not getting along.

God, I’m fucking pissed! I knew it, too. Just knew it. No commissary this week. They never got my order, they said. How convenient. The question is, though - was my order form lost by accident, or did someone deliberately ditch it? Thank God I at least have lotion, shampoo and shit like that, but I was really looking forward to some candy what with how bad this food is here, and now I have to wait another fucking week. Why is it that I have a feeling every 2-3 orders will be hit or miss? Another thing that sucks about not getting commissary tonight is the fact that I wouldn’t have had to have cellies trying to beg it off of me.

Johnson wished me a happy birthday (yeah, some fucking birthday!). and gave me two juices with dinner. I don’t know if she did that for everyone, or just for me, but it was nice. They’re getting better with desserts lately. Tonight it was pumpkin pie.

I finished my first book in this place and now I’ll start another.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 3, 2000 Tomorrow’s birthday will be the first one where I don’t get any cards. It kind of hurts that I haven’t heard from Mom and Mary, but I understand and don’t hold anything against them. Ma’s too old and shaky to write, and Mary’s too busy with her own problems.

A mean old lady was on last night, a nice old lady was on today, Chavez, who’s OK, is on second shift. I hope Pérez or Temple is on tonight.

Palma walked by earlier when Chavez was on break and I said hi. I started to tell her I missed seeing her in A Tower, then Madeline screamed out that I liked her. I quickly cut her off by yelling at her to shut up. Palma didn’t hear, but she sure had a funny expression on her face. She looked all confused, then shook her head and walked away. I was both amused and pissed by Madeline’s little outburst. She and I have a routine now. It’s become our ritual to argue at night. We fight from dinnertime on till around midnight, but we’ve kind of taken to each other at the same time. I think she enjoys jumping down my throat as much as I enjoy jumping down hers. She’s still one of those cellies I wouldn’t miss if I never saw her again.

I didn’t know the DO’s uniforms included shorts, but they do. Miss Know It All says the inmates can wear shorts in the summer in the tents, too. They got a new rule today – shirts must be tucked in when in the hallways.

Deanna gave me a pretty bookmark and half of her eraser.

I told her about rodents and she wants a guinea pig. I made out a list of things for her to buy along with it.

I think Madeline and Lora may be making some kind of card or letter by the way they’re acting.

I may take Lora’s bunk when she leaves for 3 reasons (if I’m still here). So I can have more privacy since I can see into the tower from where I’m at now, so I can be away from the vent, and because Madeline says she’d rather it be my feet climbing up and down on her bed below it than someone else’s. Yeah, I’m sure someone will replace Lora in a day or so.

It’s almost change of shift. The lights should be going out soon. We’re not going to request that they stay on late because no one wants to read tonight.

That dump I felt I had to do all day that I was waiting for the lights to go off to do, seems to have disappeared. If all people did was piss, I could live in this cell, but I don’t want to. I want to return to the tents, but again, can I handle it? Well, if I can’t, someone taught me how to escape the jungle!

What do I do if I can’t escape, though? What if I try to re-PC myself with a DO who won’t care to help me like Rule did? I’d hate to bother Rule with re-PCing me. I don’t want to take advantage of her, and it may look funny if her name is on two PC forms.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 2, 2000 The first night I was back in the big cell and sleeping on the floor by the door before I got brave enough to climb up here, Pérez caught me crying as she walked by. Everyone else was asleep, so she opened the door, motioned me out, and asked what was wrong. I told her I was homesick and we chatted for a few minutes. Her birthday’s the day before mine and we got to talking about how alike we are, which really means how different we are (compared to most people, anyway). I felt better after we chatted. She’s really nice.

So, where am I going to end up for sure, and when? I think I’m going to the tents. Another good thing about the tents is that I don’t have to have closed contact visits with Tom, and I can hug him! Or so I thought. Lora just informed me that you’re not allowed to do that. Nor can you give them anything to take home without putting in a tank order. So, I couldn’t just hand Tom these journal sheets. I’d still have to mail them.

It’s about 11 PM now and I’m nowhere near sleep. Not after sleeping on and off till 2:00

I mixed my shampoo and conditioner together, so now it’s in one bottle.

Officer Johnson filled in for a DO whose name I don’t know. I like Johnson. The girls were teasing me about it earlier too, when they caught me checking her out. Especially Madeline. We all tease each other about shit like that. I’m not attracted to her the way I am with Palma. I mostly like her for her personality, but there’s just something about her. I cleaned the tables downstairs for her and she said she might have me come out again if she had more work for me, but she didn’t.

Can’t wait for my commissary! Two more nights.

Although a part of me wants to remain in PC, there’s still an even bigger part of me that wants to return to the tents, but am I making a mistake if I did?

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 1, 2000 One month down, 5 more to go. Only 2 if my vibe’s accurate.

Officer Means is on now. That name’s even weirder.

Tom sent me a really nice letter, along with a mouse and snake picture. He covered our options in the letter, too.

One is to pursue the fact that the courts didn’t provide me with an interpreter, but we’d need a lawyer for that because it’s complicated. Also, if we won, there’s a good chance they’d just recharge me and start the sentence all over again.

We could also try getting the sentence reduced because all I did was send the journal, not the threatening letter. Besides, what I sent is laid out like a journal, not a letter. Any idiot can see its format is like a typical journal would be. The problem with this, though, is that after reducing my sentence for the journal, they could charge me for this bullshit letter, and I could get additional time.

I think our only hope is to hope I don’t get a monster PO and work with them. Better yet, hope they’ll work with us. As Tom said, part of my probation terms is the 6 months here, so maybe Mary can adjust that, although I won’t count on it. Tom’s going to write and send her a letter along with mine. To try to avoid my having to work full-time out of the house, he’s going to see if we can get into farming. Now that would be cool. I wouldn’t mind being a cowgirl, and this is something we discussed doing anyway.

But life is never what I plan or want it to be. I’m just so fucking sick of other people telling me how to live my life! Tired of being told what to do, where to go, etc.!

Also, and I didn’t know this, my 6 months here is part of my 3-year probation term, so I’d have 2½ years of probation once I get out. Even that is an eternity and totally ridiculous, even if I had sent the fucking letter. The whole fucking thing is so asinine!

Officer Rogers is on now. She’s short black and fat. I thought she was Johnson at first.

Tom told me during yesterday’s visit that he plans to send about 10 letters to various people/places, the mayor being one of them. God, I don’t know what I’d do without him! I’m forever in his debt no matter what happens. No one’s ever loved, understood and stuck by me like this!

I guess he’s been studying my type of hearing problem. Here are some quotes from his letter: I am sure that your hearing is what has caused many of the emotional problems you have encountered. Let me explain that better, the things that your parents and others did to you as a child were horrible, but it was the stresses caused by the hearing problems that really put you in an unfair position. Many people have bad parents and bad things that happen to them, but you had a huge disadvantage because of your ear. Unfortunately, it has only been recently that they made the connection between hearing problems and various “nervous” conditions. Like so many other things, society is quick to label people “crazy” and drug them up when there is really a physical problem that needs to be dealt with. You had to deal with this stupidity of people all of your life. I’m very proud of you every time I think about all of the things you had to overcome to get to where you are as an adult. As smart as I am, I don’t know if I could have done it.

Another yummy chicken dinner. We had ice cream too, and it was way better than plain vanilla. It was chocolate with chunks of chocolate in it.

If today could be like it was every day, it wouldn’t be so bad here. I shit after lights out last night and slept better than usual. We all slept till around 2:00, although we had to get up, of course, for various things along the way – breakfast, our hour out, etc.

I put in a tank as soon as I got back in this giant display case. Maybe they can help me sleep even better than antihistamines can and maybe I can see Kara.

If only, if only I’d taken Deanna next door with me! That way I’d never have gotten stuck with nutty Melinda or shooed out of the other cell for Hermy, and I could’ve at least had the same celly till February. I could live just fine with Deanna. She sleeps most of the time, anyway. She gave me a couple of sharp pencils and I gave her some conditioner. I don’t know that I’ll ever buy conditioner again here, but the hair protein is great.

A lady from classification came by today to talk to the new girl next door and Madeline. Madeline’s time is up in two weeks. She wants to go to A400 to avoid the crowded dorms. The lady, though, says she has no say in where we go from here. When I spoke to her, she told me she doesn’t deal with sentenced people, and suggested I put tank orders in to “workbox” and “classification.” I wrote that I don’t feel comfortable returning to the tents because I’m nervous around so many people, and to please put me in A400 where there are fewer people. However, I’m virtually certain they’re not going to put me there. They’ll tell me it’s either here or the tents, but I already made up my mind. I’m sick of Ad-Seg and I’m returning to the tents. I don’t know how I’ll survive more than a week of it with my sleeping disorder, but at least I know, thanks to Officer Rule, who I’ll be happy to see again, that I can always rePC myself. The 2nd time around has to be for 90 days. I’m going to have to re-PC anyway, when it starts getting hot if I’m going to be here the whole 6 months.

Lora and I just made an awesome trade, since I know my only other choice is going to be to go to the tents. She had a lock from when she was in the tents, which cost $8. She’s going to sell it to me at half price, which means I’ll be buying her $4 worth of commissary.

Those fuckers are still offering me Theo – damn!

I was just chatting with Madeline, who I feel more comfortable with, now that I’m getting to know her, even if she’s still obnoxious with not much of a sense of humor, either. You could say we both annoy each other. I annoy her with all my questions, and she annoys me with her selfishness. She was screaming through the vent at the people downstairs and starting to give me a headache. When I got on her ass about it, she was like – I was here first. So I let her know I wouldn’t respect anyone who didn’t respect me and wouldn’t hesitate to yell out the door to people if I wanted to while she was sleeping, but she later apologized.

I can’t wait till Lora leaves on the 7th, although I may be gone before then, depending on whether or not I stay in Ad-Seg. She’s way too loud.

Speaking of Lora, she got a “homosecting” write-up because a DO noticed a red splotch on her tit that they thought was a hickey. This was a while ago. I think it’s wrong to forbid inmates from playing around with each other. I mean, who is it hurting? They can’t impregnate each other, so what’s the big deal as long as it’s mutual?