#their talking to this inmate and the inmates like ‘what are you doing Friday night’ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jodilin65 · 11 years ago

Text

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 2013 They still haven’t left next door, and we’re still having chilly mornings. Yesterday afternoon, however, was the first time in days we had to run the AC. We’ll be close to 90° come Friday. :)

I sit here and I look around me, and despite the minor annoyances like traffic and landscaping, I still can’t believe we ended up in such a nice house. And so big, too. I really thought we were going to end up in another undersized dump, or at least a dump. We would have if we hadn’t gotten out when we did.

Had some strange dreams last night, both in which I didn’t seem to know Tom. In one dream I won some therapy appointments, LOL, and my parents, who were alive and well, took me to see a woman who seemed to be in her late 30s or so. She had long thick, wavy brown hair.

I went up these stairs and into her office, which was a large room. She was the first thing I saw. She smiled and said hello and I smiled, too. But then I glanced to the side and saw other people in the room as well. Not being a fan of group therapy, I turned and left the room. The woman called after me about the benefits of group therapy as opposed to one-on-one, but I wasn’t interested. Besides, my life was going just fine. I went to fetch my parents so we could leave, only they weren’t sitting up in chairs in a waiting room. They were asleep on a full-size bed in a small room.

In the last dream, I was about to or already had received a life sentence for who knows what, but the prison wasn’t anything like a real prison. It was co-ed and the security was such a joke that I felt confident that I could easily escape. The problem was where to go afterward.

Most of the “inmates” were young and immature. But one guy named Michael was a little older and a lot smarter. My dream self took immediately to the gray-eyed guy with brown curly hair who was soon to be released. At dinnertime, we spoke of escaping. He said it should be easy enough and I said, “I know. I was waiting outside the office building one time and slowly wandered over to the front gate. At first I was afraid to approach it, but then said, who cares? Who cares if a swarm of guards come after me? I’m going down for life anyway.”

Michael warned me about being sensible about making my escape and not doing anything foolish just because escaping wouldn’t be that difficult.

Then they loaded about 8 of us into a van to go to a fast-food place. The place must’ve been pretty far away, though, cuz we stopped for a cigarette break along the way. I just walked around and enjoyed the fresh air since I didn’t smoke. Everyone got back in the van and the door slid shut before I could hop in. I ran alongside the van shouting to the driver. He saw me and decided to play games by making me run alongside the van. His laughter was soon replaced by comments commending me on being such a good runner when he finally let me back in the van.

At the so-called fast food place, we ate in what looked like oversized bathroom stalls only there were no toilets. Just these weird tables and benches I couldn’t figure out how to sit on. Michael told me which way to face in the seat but my ass seemed to be too big for the seat.

“Our own room,” I said, thinking Michael and I were the only ones in that “booth” and could talk about my escape in private. But then I saw some other guy in the corner of the room and quickly shut up.

At one point after we ate I casually walked off, though I don’t know how far I got or where I went.

Later…

Posted a few quick rat vids on Facebook and swapped messages with Alison. Sure enough, she asked if I were behind the “April Smith” thing. A girl named Gabby reported to her that Kim went on a huge rant on her FB page about someone pretending to be Kathy and Molly. I pretended to be Kathy, not Molly, but that’s just Kim for you.

What’s funny is that she keeps changing her Twitter name but I keep finding it. That’s because she makes it so damn obvious because they’re just variations of the same name. I was surprised to see a 7-hour lag in tweets earlier, then she reported in saying she was busy being “Mattified.” Yeah, I’ll bet she was. Being other people is what she does best, along with lying and being unbelievably paranoid and delusional. She really, really seems to think everyone is out to get her. But she’s a really bad liar when she claims she hasn’t been to any of my sites in over a year unless it’s a so-called alter visiting me she’s not aware of. I’ve wondered if someone could’ve been impersonating her, though I highly doubt it. She was just too damn obvious. Besides, who would go to such trouble and take the time to pull off such an elaborate impersonation of the nut for so long? It was her. Trust me, it was her.

As Aly said, her mind is fascinating but highly disturbing.

Coincidently, Enfield, CT popped into my OD diary right around the time I was picking on Kim. Although the person has a mobile device and Cox, it’s still hard to believe it’s her and that she’d show up as being in Enfield, but it’s still possible.

She definitely read my blog last night because right after she read the “plant” in it where I claimed to have reactivated Ask just to be anonymously asked to follow (I named Kim’s accounts) on Twitter, she protected her tweets.

Nane was posting the usual kinds of TR pics I’ve already seen enough of but didn’t contact me. Oh well, I’m used to it. Maybe I’ll make her wait on me someday.

Here’s a funny Twitter story for you. Since people often don’t use their real names anyway, I decided to go with what’s trending to see if my follower count went up. So I became “Jodi Arias Hater,” and jumped 4 followers in less than a day. One follower is a famous judge in Miami. I never heard of him but I guess he has his own TV show. However, the intended goal wasn’t just to get more followers just for the sake of having more followers, but to get people to link to my blog and drive up book sales. Since blog traffic hasn’t gone up, though, I don’t see why book sales will. As with everything else that involves money, I have totally failed as an author. Oh well. At least Tom’s “allowed” to make more than enough.

I still worry about circumstances leading us back into the hands of poverty (with a little help from above), and I’m not talking about the kind where you’re tight for a while and that outfit you want has to wait a few months. I’m talking about the kind where you go hungry and are facing homelessness. As Tom pointed out, though, we just made another space payment and a mortgage payment, plus we’ve spent tons of money on new things for the house, yet the savings is going up. It’s going up slowly, but it’s going up. The 401K is going up faster.

As I was pointing out to him yesterday, first I wanted to win to get ahead in life, now I want to win so I can hire people to tackle the walls of OUR home. It’s not that I mind doing it myself, but I’m no pro. I don’t know that I could do that good a job. About 80% of the paneling in here was painted at some point and I can tell a pro did it cuz there isn’t a single drop of paint on the trim anywhere.

I dug up the old roast recipe my mother taught me when I last saw her in May of 1997 when she visited us in Phoenix. One of the few good contributions she ever left me. Only this idiot here forgot to add spices and didn’t add enough water either. It’s still plenty edible, though. I just added the spices afterward, more water, and cooked it at a lower temp for longer. Oh, the propane cooking this thing would’ve sucked up! LOL, it’s why I never cooked it while we were in the trailer as much as I wanted to at times, especially during the cooler weather. Now that we’re in a real house, the time of year doesn’t matter, though it’s still nothing I’d want to cook during the summer when we’re in triple digits.

I even managed to screw up poor Tom’s ice cream, LOL, by accidentally placing his chocolate topping shell in the refrigerator. He had to wait forever for it to warm up and turn to liquid again.

Anyway, for a whopping $15, we got an eye of the round roast. I put it in a big black roasting pot and dumped in a can of French onion soup and a can of golden mushroom soup, followed by 2 cans of water and a couple of cans of whole potatoes (these were mostly for Tom). You cook it at 350° for 3 or more hours.

You’ll be water-picking and brushing your teeth for sure afterward cuz you get strings of meat between them – ew. We got these super high-powered toothbrushes. I won one like it back in 2006 that was then worth over $100, but couldn’t find replacement heads anywhere. Now they’re common and much cheaper. So for $30 apiece, we each got one.

Neighborhood report now. No landscaping sounds today or yesterday, but the house on the side got annoying cuz they’re moving out. It’s still for sale, though, so we don’t think they’re moving cuz the house sold, but more likely because the owner died or went into some type of assisted living program and that’s why it’s for sale. It’s going to be a tough sale. Too high, bad location. They’re asking way too much for the place and it’s right on the edge of the park. Screaming kids, barking dogs, loud music – you’ll hear it all if you’re in that house and the people across the street and just beyond the wall happen to have any of that shit going.

Yesterday there were a ton of vehicles and door slamming. A really loud pickup was making trips in and out till after 9pm. A U-Haul was parked there when I got up, but it left shortly afterward and I haven’t seen or heard much activity there since. Still gotta deal with open house traffic and whoever moves in, but there are worse things to deal with. Watch, though, I told Tom. As soon as the newcomers get settled in, another one around us will go up for sale. Well, it won’t be next door, thankfully. They’re quiet 99% of the time. Almost too good to be true. I just can’t believe we got lucky enough to get such great neighbors, retirement community or not. They’re living proof, though, that you really can be civilized and you don’t have to make a scene every day and make your every move noticed. We’re talking two people just a few feet away. So Jesse, that one person who was a few hundred feet away, didn’t have to carry on like he did. There was simply no reason or excuse to be that noisy so often. So glad we’re not there anymore!

I haven’t had any energy to work out today. At least not for high-impact stuff. So I hit the floor and did some floor exercises like back bows, pushups, leg raises and ab/oblique crunches. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have the energy for the butt kickers, lateral jumps, jumping jacks, burpees, lunges and squats.

Later…

The pregnant God-lover popped into my blog for 8 minutes, no doubt due to Kim’s urging, since MD is closed today. It was open yesterday to make it a handy reference for me, but once I was done with what I had to do today, I set it private again. I’m sure Kim checks it every day to see if it’s open. Still don’t get why she’s determined to dodge tracking, though.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 2013 Tom says there’s no way it was in the 40s yesterday morning and that Yahoo! was wrong. Maybe so, but it sure has been cooler. I like it hot when I’m not sleeping or working out, so I can be without robes, slippers and long sleeves. I like to hang out barefoot in shorts.

Tom’s got to work today and I’ll be in for lots of sweat and hunger doing those killer 1000-calorie workouts. As I hit mid-cycle the water slowly begins to come on, so I’m up a pound. I also ate a little more yesterday and most of it was the wrong foods. But damn that Velveeta cheese and shells cup was good!

I asked Tom if he thinks I’ll adapt to the everyday buzzing of landscaping equipment like I have with the traffic, and he said yes. I hope he’s right! It’s the weekend now and the two places with grass in their yards in the immediate area have already been done, so it may be quieter. It was actually quieter for the last two days. Just some buzzing diagonally from us for a half-hour or so right when I went to watch a video yesterday afternoon.

As disappointing as the sweeping’s been, I’m going to go get sweeping. My sweep subscription doesn’t end till Nov. 2nd anyway.

Later…

I’ve been doing my best to distance myself from Kim and hoping she’d do the same, but since we’re not always treated the way we treat others, I finally broke down. I couldn’t resist. So I created “April Smith” on Twitter and friended Kim with a plan in mind for the gullible, crazy sack of shit. April is 30, disabled from a car accident, and home alone bored in her apartment with lots of time to spare. She lives in Anaheim, too. I then randomly grabbed a face shot of a fat blond in that age range for her profile pic.

My goal is going to be hard to accomplish because Kim is both delusional and a liar. The idea is to try to get inside her head and see what’s really going on. To pay attention to things I never paid attention to back when we were “friends.” If I can get a handle on what makes her tick, then maybe she’ll be easier to deal with in the future.

I read her explanation of why she feels it’s best to block her ex-friends on Facebook “before they have a chance to find her,” but it didn’t make sense. Like I consciously go looking for her. rolls eyes Common problems with stalkers; they act like you’re the one stalking them.

Already I’ve got her talking about “loonies” which are her ex-friends and the ex-BF she never had. I’ve protected my tweets and am trying to get her to PM me so no one else who may be connected to Aly, Kathy or anyone else can see enough of our exchanges to figure out who I am. I doubt they would, but you never do know. I don’t want to move too fast and scare her off, but once I can get her to open up about me, I’ll hopefully get a sense of how close she’s stalking me, though I don’t know how much she’d be willing to admit no matter how much she may trust “April.” Or how much she even remembers. Again, if my MPD theory is right, she’s not always aware of what she does. At least not totally aware of it.

Based on the times she tweets, she seems to sleep from around 3am to noon her time and practically lives online as I pretty much suspected. I don’t see how she could possibly have a job. The bulk of her time is spent obsessing over celebrities. Gee, what a surprise. She creates tons of fan sites and interacts with those who are also fans. I had to pretend I was a Glee fan. Hope she doesn’t ask me any questions about the show I can’t answer.

I’m not going to play this game forever, of course, so how I’ll end it I’m not sure of right now. Maybe I’ll freak her out a bit by saying something like how I’m sorry her father died. Something she knows I shouldn’t know, LOL. Or maybe I’ll say I’m a friend of Kathy’s and how Kathy wants to dump her and all that.

Not sure if I want to let Alison in on what I’m doing or not. There’s still a part of me that’s hesitant to trust her. I’m 90-something percent sure I could, but maybe I’ll wait a while. I skimmed Kim’s private tweets once she added me and couldn’t find any mention of me. Just whining about Aly feeling “left out” and falsely flattering herself by thinking Aly cares enough to peek in on her that she’s got to hurry up and block her.

Anyway, I’m trying to get her to take the bait but she keeps running off. Got to make more fan sites. rolls eyes It’s sad that this deranged, 300-pound virgin with nothing but time can do nothing but live in a fantasy world and basically dedicate her life to these celebs she never met… when she’s not harassing people she was once friends with.

Molly hit my LJ blog real quick early this morning, so the “changed and restricted woman” is back at it again. I’m sure she’ll be back soon enough, but why that blog? She usually goes to MO. Either way, the only one she can read right now is on Blogger.

Later…

Game’s over. Already. And I did not expect it to end this way. Not at first anyway. I quickly got bored with the so-called attempt to get into her crazy head and realized I wasn’t going to get any useful info from her. So I said I was a friend of Kathy’s and that Kathy was pissed at her for hitting on Adam. The crazy bitch got off on it at first, laughing and saying how “fun” this was.

Then she disappeared for nearly an hour (probably to go confront Kathy), and then I unfollowed her and she unfollowed me. I then changed my u/n, but it was too late. The account was already suspended. It was either automatically flagged and shut down due to her blocking me, or she reported it. Chances are it was shut down for being a new account that received something like 4-5 blocks. Action wouldn’t have been taken that fast had she reported me, and there was nothing to “report.” Unless there’s spam, excessive foul language or threats, you can’t shut someone down for saying stuff you don’t want to hear. I could’ve agreed to behave, checked a few boxes and sprung the account back to life, but I don’t need it anymore.

After we were disconnected, I then peeked in on her public account from my real account and while she never named names, clearly she suspects me. I would’ve thought she thought either Aly or I was behind it, but what narrowed it down to me was how she said she has “left me and my sites alone.” Well, Aly doesn’t have sites. She’s had a few FB accounts trying to escape this loon, but she hasn’t been active on Ask or any blogging site that I know of.

She threatened to get me in trouble if I keep it up, of course, and admitted it was “fun” at first till it got creepy. And damn, how did they find her?

I’m surprised she didn’t run and shut all the accounts down like she always used to. Instead, she started to change the name of her public one, then changed it back.

Stop lying and leave her friends and family alone, she says. Oh, but it’s perfectly ok for her to hit up the friends of those who dumped her, right?

Enough of that fucktard.

When Aly questions me about it, and unfortunately she will, I’m not going to lie and say I had nothing to do with it. I’ll tell her what I did and why. If she tells Kim, she tells Kim, but I doubt she will.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 2013 It’s been unusually cold. It’s now just 40fucking6 degrees out and I’m not liking it one bit. Had to run the heat for a little while, but have switched it off and put my robe on till it warms up. It’s to be back in the 80s today, thankfully. When I’m not sleeping or working out, I hate being cold!

I guess they haven’t left yet next door, after all. I noticed their light on early this morning when I walked into the kitchen.

Last night in my dreams my rats turned into shrieking guinea pigs, someone installed gray carpet in here that was wavy, and then my whorebag brother returned from the dead to take me swimming in some filthy stream.

Still plugging away at the French one lesson at a time, and still not sure which is harder, French or Italian. Probably French.

Have to give my muscles a day of recovery after yesterday’s kick-ass workout. Imagine doing jumping jacks and push-ups for an hour and a half straight. Well, that’s how intense these workouts are. I’ve even got a pulled muscle in my foot. So other than laundry, I’m going to be sitting on my ass all day. Only my brain and hands will be active.

Sometimes I ask myself why I bother killing myself with these insane workouts till I remember how good they make me feel. I was delighted to catch a glimpse of my profile in the mirror this morning to see how much my tummy, lower back and ass have gone down. My upper tummy is virtually flat again, even if I still kind of have to either suck it in or lay flat on my back.

Got views yesterday and today from the Sac, but no more dreams of the Doc. GA isn’t nearly as detailed as TIP is, so I can’t say what time or what pages they viewed.

After talking with Aly yesterday, I’d say the 2 San Angelo and 2 Junction visits were Kathy. They’ve really been restricting Molly’s online activity from what she’s been told. She and Kathy share a mutual friend who says she and Kim have become chummy for some reason lately. Maybe that’s because Kim goes along with everything she says, a must if you want to remain Kathy’s friend. I know Kathy was also afraid to stir Kim up due to her craziness.

Anyway, Kim has a couple of private Twitter accounts, and she is reading my blog. We just don’t know if she’s having Kathy read it for her or if she’s figured out how to disable cookies. The accounts are under celebrity names, of course. She started following a friend of Aly’s who returned the favor. The friend reports her 20+ tweets saying she’s not feeling well, people are picking on her even though she’s done nothing to deserve it, etc. Well, apparently I’m “harassing” her by blogging about her friending friends of those who have dumped her under false pretenses.

We have long given up trying to figure her out and how her twisted mind works. All I know is that for some reason she is determined to remain as anonymous as possible where I’m concerned, and thank God, too. The day she decides to come at me from bogus accounts, or as herself, is the day she could make my online life a bit of a bitch. The fact that she hides from me tells me she must have some awareness of what she’s done and is at least somewhat worried she may get in trouble for pestering me. But will things remain the same with her year after year? Or will she eventually get worse and worse till someone stops her?

While a part of me misses some of the drama and found some of it to be a bit amusing (I guess because it’s just so silly and childish), it’s important that I look out for myself. The last thing I want is this nutjob making trouble for me in other ways. She couldn’t play the race card since she’s also white, but God above would make damn sure that she won, and I, the victim, was the one to get screwed. I meant it when I said I’d never let anyone put me through that again.

Another part of me is tempted to reopen MD and Ask, but not allow for anonymous questions on Ask.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 2013 Again I dreamed of my dentist, though I don’t remember any details of the dream. Why do I dream of her so often? I had another local visitor yesterday early in the morning (this time listed as being in Sacramento), so maybe some of my local visits really are from her and I’m sensing her presence in my dreams or something.

“I don’t have to like anyone I don’t want to like. I don’t have to feel guilty for it either.”

Saw this on someone’s wall and totally agree. I used to feel a tinge of guilt and shame and tended to hide the fact that I’m not particularly fond of some individuals as well as some groups of people who, if you’re willing to open your eyes and your mind to the statistics, aren’t very helpful to society. But not anymore. Hey, as long as we’re not harming anyone, we all have a right to like and dislike whomever we please the same as we do with foods, music and color. No one likes everyone and no one is liked by everyone. Like it or not, that’s just a fact of life. Might as well deal with it.

Lost another pound, so now I’m down 9 pounds total with 36 more to go. Still doubt I’ll lose that much, but am glad to have stopped gaining. Had 1200 calories yesterday and might take it up to 1500 today. I’m hungry as hell. This is typical after hitting a new low. I dread entering the PMS zone when I tend to have days when nothing I eat fills me up. Did one of those 1000-calorie workouts yesterday and another one today that I haven’t done before. As usual, I fell short on some of the cardio training due to the extra weight (and maybe age?) but did better on the strength and core strengthening. Been pushing myself so hard that I may have to take a day off tomorrow or do a shorter video that’s about 20 minutes. Today I did an 84-minute one that was the longest 84 minutes of my life, LOL. Might as well have been 884 minutes. I’m totally burned out now and am glad I don’t have any cleaning or laundry to do today. I actually feel like I could take a nap. Just maybe I will. I’ll kick on the sound machine and just relax and drown out those damn landscaping sounds, which will probably start up in another half hour or so.

Later…

Wow. It’s just after 10am and still peaceful. No landscapers, no door slamming, no nothing yet. Part of that may be due to it being the coldest it’s been since moving in here. It’s even windy enough that I can hear my newest wind chime in front. It hangs just outside the window barely 5’ from where I sit.

Anyway, it got down to a frigid 67° inside the house, but the sun is now warming the place up nicely. It’s to be 76° today. The cold is better for sleeping and working out, though I do not like it much otherwise. I had to laugh, though, knowing we’d have the heat on for damn sure if we were still in that little old trailer. It would’ve been too warm not to go to bed with the window open and I’d wake up freezing and scramble to shut the window and get the heat going.

Bye, bye, Bob and Virginia. Yeah, they just left for vacation. Tom was on his way to pick up the mail yesterday when Virginia jumped out to meet him. She wanted to let us know that she and Bob are going on vacation for 3 weeks and that their son will be keeping an eye on the place, so we wouldn’t think anyone broke in. Since they don’t have a dog, why the close eye in a gated retirement community in a nice neighborhood? Maybe they have a cat or plants to water. Hopefully, the kid will park in front and go around to the front door instead of parking alongside us and going into the garage. If he does park by us, hopefully he comes and goes and quietly as his parents do. The light was on at 5am as usual this morning, so I saw from the kitchen window and knew they hadn’t left yesterday night.

She also said she’d have more tomatoes for us next year (I told Bob the previous morning when I had the front door open and saw him shut the back of his SUV how good they were).

I love our new home, park and neighborhood, but really get sick of the landscaping sounds, as I’ve said before. I heard what sounded like tree branches being thrown in a wood chipper in the common area yesterday and it was louder than what I usually hear. I guess that after the first rain, they are eager to prep for the winter rains, assuming we get that much. It’s almost impossible to do anything that requires a quiet background in the daytime, especially between 9am - 2pm. In some ways, I hear more here than at the Jes pest, though I’d still take the predictable sounds at predictable hours without the welfare bums mixed in. It’s still dead quiet most of the time, too. All I hear now are vehicles speeding down the freeway, a pleasant sound.

Andy suggested going to Macy’s and asking for makeup tips, but right now I’ve got more important things to focus on than trying to pretty up my face. For now, I’ll adopt the “don’t like it, don’t look” attitude. After I see how much more progress I can make from the neck down, then maybe I’ll consider the face.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 2013 Had trouble typing on my new keyboard and decided to switch back to my old one again. I like its layout better even though they’ve changed it a bit to make the newer keyboards skinnier.

I’ve lost 8 pounds in the 2 months we’ve been here. That may not seem like much, but to one as short as I am it goes a long way. I did a rigorous hour of kickboxing cardio this morning and have come to realize how much less boring doing a variety of videos is compared to the treadmill. The treadmill is boring whether I read while I’m at it, listen to music or watch TV. The vids provide a fun variety of routines whereas walking and running are just walking and running. I didn’t have the room to bop around to vids in the trailer, but now that I do I may retire the treadmill for a while. It was fun for the few years I had it and it has served its purpose, but a break from the thing is definitely in order. For now, my mat, dumbbells, and resistance bands are enough. Tom doesn’t care for running but may want to use the treadmill for walking.

I don’t see how you can really burn many calories and lose much weight from yoga or other no to low-impact activities. Some people who are older and or prone to injuries may have no choice, but I find the high-energy workouts more effective. I’m still a big girl, though, so some of the jumping exercises are still a bit much for me, and I have to improvise. But I feel like I’m really working out when my heart’s pumping and the sweat’s pouring. Yeah, I’m really on my way to becoming an expert on hooks, jabs, uppercuts, crossovers, burpees, star jumps and more.

I may always look fat, old and ugly, but damn do I need to do something about my makeup these days. Andy had said (in an honest way and not a hurtful one), that the way my makeup looked in pictures taken a few years ago reminded him of a character in the movie Whatever Happened to Baby Jane. It’s true that makeup simply doesn’t look like it once did on me, even though I apply it the same as always. It makes me look more clownish these days rather than just made up, so I’ve eased up on the mascara since my eyelashes have always been ridiculously long. In the picture, he pointed out I also didn’t have any foundation on and so I looked sunburned due to whatever (rosacea?) has been causing the constant redness in my face that began about 6 years ago.

Still get the runs at times too, and still don’t know why. I eat healthy and I get enough fiber. I have no stress or anxiety in my life right now either.

I opened the windows yesterday and ran the central fan to air the place out a bit. Opening some of these 30-year-old windows is a bitch! I’d like to replace them someday. I just feel so – I guess exposed is the word – when windows are open. I may not be so private online, but I like my privacy on the home front. I definitely miss the seclusion of the woods, but not the Jes pest that ruled those woods. Or his mutts.

It stayed quiet till 9:00 yesterday morning, then it was on to musical car doors with a burst of landscaping somewhere in back at 9:30, and a round in front at lunchtime. I suppose Bob will blow himself today, though I still love it here very much. I’m not going to let any evil God get this place, too. I just wish He hadn’t taken my winnings. He gave me a condition that prevents me from working. Then He helped see to it that I couldn’t get the compensation I deserve. My only financial contribution to our household was my wins, but it looks like He’s gone and taken that, too. I guess I’m just meant to be as “valuable” as an old cigar wrapper, and again I am thankful to have a husband who sees my love and upkeeping of the pets and house as sufficient enough. You know you are truly loved when conditions don’t matter and you simply do what you can do and that’s plenty good enough.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 24, 2013 Amongst the usual spider dreams and dreams of being held places against my will, and even being dumb enough to type a long journal entry that I lost on MD, which doesn’t have an auto-save, I had a sad and scary dream about Andy.

Andy called and sounded very down and worn out. I asked him what was wrong. He hesitated a moment, then said, “I’ve got cancer.” I knew by the way he said it that it wasn’t treatable. After we hung up Tom gathered me into his arms as I cried, “I don’t want to lose my best friend!”

If it were before the fall of 2011, I’d be scared shitless for him. I wouldn’t expect him to actually die of cancer, but I would expect something to go wrong for him. The vast majority of my negative dreams were coming true like crazy between 2007-2011. Every time I would dream of a friend or a family member dying, getting into an accident, or becoming seriously ill, something bad would happen to them. I had dreams of Tammy dying and her lung condition worsened. A friend also died in my dreams that was dealing with breast cancer. That lying shit Maliheh fell overboard from a speedboat in one of my dreams and came within 500’ of being wiped out by a tornado around the same time.

Again, if it were a couple of years ago I’d worry and say that his next 72 hours were critical, not that any of my dreams have ever altered fate. But I seem to have lost most of my psychic abilities. I can’t influence myself to win like crazy like I used to, and I haven’t had any dream premonitions in quite a while now.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 2013 So Mommy Dearest has been dead for a year now. Not long enough. Just not long enough. As I told my sister, who also struggles with horrible memories, since God didn’t give a damn about how she treated us when she was alive, hopefully He very much gives a damn right now if there is such a thing as life after death. raises imaginary wine glass Here’s to hoping the Hündin is stuck on a plane full of tarantulas!

I had a dream I was wandering through our backyard at the house I grew up in. I slowly climbed up the steep, but brief hill into the wooded area with a small clearing in which my old swing set sat. I walked beyond the swings and to the fence in back. It used to be a seemingly endless stretch of nothing but woods, and as a child, I did not dare climb over that fence, lest any monsters pop out from behind the trees and eat me alive. But in the dream, I was an adult and I knew it was safe to cross the fence. I proceeded to climb over it, but then the woods gave way to long freshly paved streets in which houses with no walls adorned the sides. I could see kitchens, bedrooms and living rooms as I walked down the wide road, but there were no walls and no people in sight. Everything was open and modern, yet barren and lonely.

Last night I looked at my old house and the house next to it where my maternal grandparents lived on Google Maps. The once well-manicured lawns and well-kept roads have changed quite a bit. The roads are now all beat up and the neighborhood as a whole looks rather ordinary with a few newer mansions that are a bit nicer. Gone are the vast expanses of woods in back in which new homes now sit. You couldn’t see any houses in back in the ’70s, but now you can see rooftops peeking through the trees. My parents and grandparents definitely wouldn’t have liked that at all. Gone are the lush hedges that once divided the properties and added some privacy. Now they’re nothing but scattered, dead-looking clumps of bushes. If my grandparents were still alive, would they still be there? I wonder.

My other dream was about Tom and I outside our place, only it didn’t quite look like this place. On the side of the house toward the roof was a giant spider. Tom was prepping this thing you hook to a hose that shoots a mix of poison and water, and I cried out, “Hurry up! The thing is starting to move upwards. Hurry!”

Later…

Although TIP missed them, I’ve got visitors, according to GA, from San Angelo and Junction, Texas. Molly-related? Either way, why aren’t they showing up on TIP? San Angelo once showed up on TIP, and I thought it could be Molly-connected, even though it’s closer to where Kathy is.

Love my new rat figurines, which would’ve been perfect if one’s paw hadn’t fallen off along the way. It’s barely noticeable, though, and not worth returning.

The mornings have been chilly and the AC didn’t even run at all yesterday. Today it will, though, cuz it’s to be 85°. I was thinking I might open windows and air the place out on Thursday because it’s supposed to be windy that day.

While I slept on Sunday, Tom said it poured like crazy for a few minutes, then drizzled the rest of the day. Really wish it would stop raining only at night or on Sundays, leaving the week wide open to the annoying landscapers. Wish the house across the side street would hurry up and sell too, so there won’t be as much traffic coming to see the place.

Early yesterday morning we went to Walgreens and got some fun stuff. Those little things we women love – perfume, nail polish, lip gloss and Calgon’s English Garden bath beads. I don’t take baths very often, but when I do it will be nice to have soft, silky, fragrant water. It was either that or bubble bath. I also got a lovely blue beaded bracelet, and I think that was it.

Tom said there’s no use making all this money if we’re not going to spend some of it, and it was good to get out anyway. He got a few things, too.

All my cleaning, working out and writing-related stuff is done for the day, along with my French lesson, so I think I’ll spend the rest of my day, which began last evening, with videos and reading.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 2013 It’s freezing in here! Most wouldn’t think 72° was cold, but I’m used to it being 78° - 82° in here. It’s great for working out, though. Yesterday I completed a 64-minute, 1000-calorie workout that burns 500-1000 calories. I’m so proud of myself! It was a very intense workout and even my hands were sweating. I’d give most people my age 5-10 minutes tops, although I myself did fall a few seconds short on a couple of exercises. Having extra weight can really bog you down on some of them, but I am slowly losing weight and inches and will continue to do so for as long as I can. Love how much better I feel! My flexibility is returning and I haven’t had any joint pain.

My bad ear has been worse overall, though, since the move, and I wonder if the drop in elevation could have anything to do with it. I often feel an achy pressure-like sensation and so I decided to pop a couple of Aleve at the start of each day rather than wait for the discomfort to set in. Then if I feel any irritation come on in the middle of the day, I can take more if need be.

Good and bad news from Tammy. They can’t operate on Mark because it would be too risky. He could either live for years or drop dead today. It’s a scary thing for them to have to live with, but they intend to make the best of what he’s got left. That’s all anyone can do is make the best of whatever life/situation they’ve got, for we’re not in the driver’s seat of our lives as much as we’d like to think we are, and no, we don’t quite always have “free will.”

Tammy will soon make an appointment with her pulmonologist to see what they’re going to do in her case and when.

So many people are getting sick these days, so it seems. While I don’t usually care to know about those I don’t personally know, I once idolized Linda Ronstadt, and it’s sad to know she’s got Parkinson’s, even though she seemed perfectly normal in one of her more recent interviews.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 2013 I know it may sound silly since they love me either way, but I almost wish Andy and other friends could see me for a second in person to see the progress I’ve been making with the working out. No camera can precisely convey how we really look. Not sure how much more I’ll accomplish, but what I have so far is nice, even if it’s not much. Tom sure thinks it is, though, LOL.

Andy crashed shortly after I got up. As kids, our game was crazy 8’s. As young adults, it was prank calls. As middle-agers, it’s sharing pics on Ask, which also provides a handy way to keep in touch and up to date with what’s going on with us. I think I like our middle-age game the best. :)

Tom says he’s tired of working and sleeping, working and sleeping, and I don’t blame him. So he has informed me that Sunday he wants to do something “fun.” LOL, I will do my best to please him even though I’m still mostly on nights right now. Aside from what we may do right here at home, there’s only so much open early Sunday morning which will be the end of my day at that time. Walmart, Denny’s, the casino…

Been sleeping better than ever, but had a couple of strange dreams last night. I actually had several, but only remember two. In one dream we were still living with the Jes pest. Two mornings in a row he drove down unannounced and even woke Tom up. Feeling bad for Tom and pissed at his rudeness, I wanted to let him have it but Tom insisted it was fine. So glad that was just a dream!

My paternal grandmother was in the second dream I remember. She was a pretty nice woman, unlike my maternal grandmother who was the bitch her daughter was. She made the comment about having a bad feeling and I just shrugged it off. Then I got the impression some time passed when she said it again in what appeared to be the first dream to take place in this house. She was standing just inside the kitchen when I went to reach for something in the refrigerator. After she spoke I shut the door and said, “A bad feeling about what, Nana? Emotional? Physical? Legal?”

She said nothing and so I said, “Touching someone sometimes helps make us see things. Here, let me hug you.”

As I went to hug her she said, “You can hug me, but don’t touch me,” whatever that means.

Now that it’s getting later into the night and cooler inside the house (it’s supposed to be only 70° and rainy today) I’m going to really challenge myself tonight. They have these 1000-calorie workouts that burn about 500-1000 calories, depending on your fitness/fat level. They usually take an hour to do. Don’t know if I can last that long, but I’m going to find out!

Andy’s fun but continues to be the pervert from hell. He can’t even go a day without posting some picture or comment that somehow pertains to sex.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 2013 I was sitting on the couch while I was eating a protein bar and felt totally lost in our humungous living room. I was just a tiny spec within. An L-shaped couch in there would probably not only look best but be better for watching TV. That way it’d be right in front of part of the couch and not off to the side. If it was slightly off to the side, that’d be one thing, but 15’ away is a bit much, even with a 42” screen.

Paula’s been leaving messages for me to call her and she knows I don’t like that. She knows I hate phones. Besides, we recently talked and swapped letters. I suppose she’s just lonely. She has no life at all. She’s single, alone, lonely, fucked in the head, jobless and without any skills or talents to occupy her time. It’s been this way since we met up at the Laundromat back in 1990. This autistic, paranoid woman with ADHD simply exists but does not live. She is still someone I care about and I really hope they get rid of her ovarian cancer. She told me she’d be ok and she may really believe that, but when it’s coming from someone that’s not very bright at all, you can never really know for sure. She could be in remission only to see the damn thing return.

Soon I will send her the pictures of the house she asked for since she’s obviously never going to be online. I’m sending my Italian dad the same pics, too.

Tom’s exhausted and the rats are the usual – Romeo chases the duster, Sugar chases me.

Although it took a week, the sensitivity within my new crown is gone.

Working out in bursts of 10s where I sprint at 5 MPH for 45 seconds, rest a few seconds, do it again, rest again, then do it again. This comes to 22 ½ minutes of running and burns 300 calories. I’m too heavy to do it all at once and since I know I’m not going to lose any more weight, I’ve got to work with what I have. I’m just glad I stopped gaining. I hate to struggle just to stay 40 pounds overweight (though the charts say it’s 25), but it also keeps me fit, strong and flexible and helps with joint pain.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 2013 My Citrus Heights viewer who was definitely, definitely NOT me, hasn’t been around in a few days.

I had dreams of winning but awoke to find not one single win notice in my inbox. Guess I’m only allowed to be psychic these days when things aren’t going well. Either way, if I don’t do some serious winning soon enough and start winning more than chips and T-shirts, I’m going to shut down both my Twitter and Pinterest accounts. It would suck too, cuz I always felt that that was my main way of contributing, as funny as it may sound. If it’s true that God picks and chooses our illnesses, injuries and conditions – well – first He sicced one on me that kept me from adding an additional income to our household, and now you mean He’s gone and taken my winnings, too? I was winning cash and prizes that compared to a decent part-time job, and I know my husband loves me unconditionally and that I contribute enough just taking care of the house, but still… must I lose that, too? There are other ways to make money but not like that. No one’s gonna give me 9 grand to tell them what something means in Spanish. They’re not going to send me on a Caribbean cruise for reviewing their business either.

Well, I can’t win and I can’t have my disability benefits reinstated which are so rightfully mine, but I am immensely thankful that Tom is unlike other men. No man wants his wife at home these days. No man. Not unless she has a “visible” or “normal” condition that most people have heard of, and even then they often turn against them. If the woman can’t bring in the dough the same as he can, then he’s not interested. That’s just today’s marriage rules for you; instead of staying home with kids, you skip the kids and go to work. Well, I skipped the kids, so can I please start winning big again?

According to what Tom read, the cost of housing has soared in this area faster and higher than anywhere else in the country. Had we waited any longer we may’ve been forced to settle for another dumpy old single-wide despite all the money we had. Going from someone else’s shit single-wide to our own in an area that forbids barking, blasting music and other annoyances, would’ve been better than nothing, but how much of a step up would that really have been compared to this? I’m kind of surprised God didn’t help stall things even more so that we would have to continue living so poorly. He seemed to really enjoy seeing us do that year after year anyway. That’s ok, though, cuz while He may’ve denied me many things in life, I have denied Him myself. A small loss when you consider that there are 7 billion people in the world and that what I think of Him obviously isn’t important to Him, but I still like the thought of knowing I turned my back against Him same as I would any human being that treated or allowed me to be treated unjustly and unfairly. And guess what? I’m never walking back. I’m gone for good.

But what in the world has been on our side blessing us with good things these last few years??? Whatever/whoever it was that helped save us a couple of years ago couldn’t have been my parents or my foster mother as they were still alive at that time. Tom’s dad? Our grandparents? Or was it just a coincidence that we got a job and out of that trailer just in the nick of time?

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 2013 Things are running smoothly and we’ve got a lot to look forward to over the upcoming months. Gotta call the travel agency soon to plan our trip to Hawaii, then come home, paint walls, get the new car, and install new carpet and flooring, etc.

It was chilly in here early yesterday morning. I went to bed cold and woke up warm. I still sleep better here than in the trailer, now that I’m adjusting to the traffic. It helps to add an earplug when I’m on nights and to always be able to keep the room dark. Blackout shades don’t do you much good when you have an evaporative cooler and need to crack windows and let tons of light in. We’ve still got a while before we need heat and heavier blankets. That’s usually not till late October or early November here.

Been on a roll with the French and doing well, but haven’t yet gotten back to my story writing. Maybe one of these days.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 2013 When the pipes spit air at me when I got up to pee and wash my face, I knew we must’ve played water games again that day, and was glad I slept through it. That’s how many times now since we’ve been here? Four? Five? I’ve literally lost count of how many times this has happened in the 2 months and 1 week that we’ve lived here. I still don’t understand why they don’t do the whole park at once and get it over with in one shot. Tom said that’d cost them way too much money and that they’d have to dig up the roads in the entire park. I can see not wanting to tear up the whole park, but they’re going to have to spend the money eventually on these old pipes anyway. I just dread the day the water stops when my hair is full of shampoo!

When Andy pointed out that he hasn’t been harassed by the trolls, I realized that this is probably because he’s never been friends with the trolls for years like Aly and I were, and because they know he’s never been friends with Aly either. They’re looking for those with public accounts on which Aly has commented. They know they’ve never been friends, so there’s no reason to focus on Andy. Or to lash out at him in anger over having been dumped for being a crazy, habitual liar.

My Citrus Heights viewer again has me stumped, but I still think it’s almost certainly me with a twisted view count. I probably didn’t filter myself out correctly, whereas it’s easy to do so on Blogger and TIP. Same browser, same OS, same provider… though why it would say I was in one city in real-time and another when I visit the blog, beats me. I’ve been in a few times today and so far it still says there have been 0 views from my town today. This part also makes no sense if it’s me. Tom thinks it started off as being me, but since I filtered myself out, it’s someone else. But then why would it see me in RT and not my visits?

Been winning little stuff, which is better than nothing, but it’s been a disappointing experience so far. Tom thinks I’ll win big again someday, but wouldn’t think that had I not gotten any small wins.

I’m looking more fit and pretty good for one just a couple of years away from 50. I may look like shit compared to 20 years ago, but I know I’m doing pretty well for my age and that a lot of women out there would kill to weigh what I weigh. I don’t expect much more change within the scale or my measurements at this age, but I like how the exercise has made me look and feel.

I also like and am amazed at how such a little trim has really gone a long way as far as making my hair feel and look healthier. I didn’t think it’d do much good.

Saturday will be the first day in months that we don’t make it into the 80s. It’s even gonna be cloudy. While I LOVE the heat and HATE long sleeves, sometimes I get sick of the constant dry heat and fierce sun. Sometimes I just want rain, clouds and cooler weather that’s more comfortable for working out in. I want to snuggle under a real blanket. Instead, I sleep with the fan on and a little pink blanket that’s so thin you could floss your teeth with it.

I’ve learned that French is both easier and harder than Italian while German is still the hardest of those I’ve studied. The grammar part of plurals is simpler, but the pronunciation of many plural words sounds the same as the singular version, making those listening exercises a bit tricky. Their software is great. It’s not too easy, but challenging enough not to seem impossible and make you want to give up. If your brain isn’t “set” for languages and you have no desire for them then forget it. You’ll never get beyond the first level.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 2013 On this very day in 2011 we learned we would die (it was just a question of how) before what may’ve been the spirits of our dead loved ones rushed in to save us. Two years later my husband made big bucks, I made a small win (just some stupid things for the kitchen), and then I learned that Kim’s gone Molly, all while being in the comfort and security of our own home.

So much for Aly signing up for a new FB account since Kim was able to remember who her public friends were and check their accounts for comments from her. She is also friending friends of ex-friends in hopes of being part of our lives that way and having others to harass and basically use as a weapon against us, and what better people than our friends and family, right?

I’ve described Kim and what she does and suggested those with public accounts go friends only, but most don’t seem to want to heed my warning. I guess they either feel it won’t happen to them, can’t relate to the possible consequences of remaining public, or maybe they’ve got a little troll in themselves so they actually can relate. At least a little bit. I’d feel bad if they got caught up in shit that had nothing to do with them, of course, and I’d hate to see them harassed and possibly their own friends and families too, but they at least can’t say I didn’t warn them if she does latch onto them. They’re big boys and girls, though. They can take care of themselves and I know they gotta do what they gotta do. I figure those with public accounts must want it that way for a reason, usually so old friends can look you up and know who you are and what’s up with you. I can understand that while people want to be cautious, they also don’t want to feel locked in a cage when online, so to speak, and to deny themselves sites and features they enjoy. If it weren’t for Molly and then Kim I’d probably be public too, only because I don’t care who sees what as long as it’s not sensitive info. I wouldn’t blog if I did.

I’m not there much myself anymore due to the glitches and the news feed being littered with crap, but I do try to check in once or twice a day to pick up any messages and comments I may have.

Anyway, I’ve made them aware of the situation and it’s up to them how they want to handle it. I alerted them to her real name, age and location and described what she looks like, letting them know she often uses variations of her name, as well as impersonates celebrities and other people. From what I’ve heard, she’s obsessed with Glee actors these days.

As some of us have learned, though, this sick twist has very little concept of right, wrong, fact and fiction. She’s so damn crazy I’m amazed she hasn’t threatened anyone yet. I almost wish she would, though.

Anyway, we’re thinking of having them do both the carpet and the kitchen/laundry/second bath floors next April or May. That way the rainy season (assuming we ever have one again) is over with, but it’s not yet so hot that the AC would be running like crazy.

We’re probably going to go with crème instead of lavender because the place is so damn big. So much lavender, pink or mint green would simply be too overwhelming, not to mention colors that could clash with other things. Little shit trailers are a different story.

All we have to do in the meantime is hope that God isn’t cruel enough to have Tom laid off so all our plans are shot to hell for who knows how long. I’m not stupid, though. The last thing any God cares about is our damn carpet. So I guess we can be glad that they’re not only always busy as hell where he works, but glad for all the OT, too. We could literally live off of that alone, even here. Literally.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 2013 LOL, Kathy tried to view my blog, but couldn’t quite make it. I was wondering if she’d try again. Well, she apparently tried to link through to MO, unable to get to my Blogger link, since making that blog for friends only. She must’ve been too stupid to think to check her history (if she saves it) or have a friend see if they could get it from my FB page since she’s got me blocked. She definitely suspects Aly or myself as being behind the nasty Ask messages, but I don’t care. I’m 100% done with her now. Too risky playing with one who’s both Mexican and pregnant. Texas is too much like Arizona. If she wants to focus more on me than the kid she’s supposedly having, that’s her problem, but I’m done.

My Citrus Heights viewer is definitely, definitely me. It may not update as fast as it should, but it’s definitely me. So that solves that mystery.

Ok, even though Tom and I both hate beer, we’re entered to win a trip to next year’s Oktoberfest in Munich so we can meet Nane.

I was so fucking pissed last night. I was all excited about tackling French 101 only to find that LiveMocha has TOTALLY changed. It’s nothing like it used to be. I hate their new language-learning software. It’s glitchy and a poor way to learn, IMO. Why oh why can’t things ever stay the same?! Underwear, wallpaper and piss-poor attitudes are for changing, not sites that people liked just the way they were. Change, change, change… I fucking hate it! sighs All good things really do come to an end.

Then I discovered Duolingo and started their basic French course until I’m asked to pay to advance further or that site goes to hell too.

Was reading an article about whether or not they think some people have an easier time learning languages than others and why. It not only stated the obvious – that we tend to do better in what we like, but that the area of the brain responsible for languages is enlarged in people like me. Let me guess… the part that processes numbers is so damn microscopic in my case that not even the most powerful microscope can detect it, right?

Wish I knew why I’ve been having the runs more and more often. Makes me wonder if my weight’s down due to that more than to all the activity. I just don’t get it, though. I’m not nervous or worried about anything. Life is great. I have everything I need and most of what I want, so I can’t complain. If anything, I worry more for friends and family who have been having hard times in various ways.

The only negative thing is that tomorrow is the two-year anniversary of when we got our would-be death sentence in the mail. It was just about the worst and scariest day of our lives. September 27th, on the other hand, was the one day and the one day only when a true miracle occurred. The phone rang with news we’d been waiting for for half a year, just days before we’d have had to either kill ourselves or let the streets do it for us. Well, the streets would’ve done it for us in a much slower, more agonizing way. But here I am, two years later in a home of our own. I have emerged stronger and wiser. I now have more paranoia about spending money and more hatred for God. The more He lets life rain down shit upon me than most can ever imagine, let alone deserve, the further away I turn from Him. And just like I’d be proud of myself for turning against a person of a negative influence, I praise myself for filling my heart a little fuller with hate each time He lets disaster strike, while others tell themselves God simply “teaches us lessons” and “strengthens” us and “tests” us. This may be so to a degree, understandably, but enough is enough for some people! And no, whatever doesn’t kill us doesn’t always make us stronger. I’m stronger in many ways, yes, but in some ways, I’m also more fragile, more paranoid and more anxious. Things are going well right now, as I just said, and I haven’t had any nightmares, but how long will last? How long???

Now that I’ve set more realistic goals for one my age, my goal is to be the exact same weight I am now at this time next month. Millions and millions of older folks struggle to lose weight year after year that never comes off and I don’t want to be one of those people. I want to just accept that we’re supposed to be heavy when we age, the weight’s not going anywhere, and to just eat healthy most of the time, keep active and try not to gain more. I only take one day off a week for the no-nos like sweets, potatoes and things like that.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 2013 Sarah’s 23 today and Aly has confirmed that she has cut ties with Kathy, which was easy to do. Yeah, dropping assholes is a very easy thing to do next to breathing. The “Crazy Beagle Bitch” must suspect I was the one who had some nasty things to say about her on Ask before she ran and deactivated her account there because she spent 12 minutes on my blog yesterday. This was no doubt to see if I mentioned her or maybe at least getting similar shit from Kim or someone else.

I just couldn’t help, as much as it may’ve been stooping to her level, lashing out at Kathy after the way she has treated both Aly and me.

Aly also confirms that she doesn’t know of any NorCal friends Kim may have.

The mystery of my Citrus Heights visitor has deepened. I would’ve been 100% convinced it wasn’t me until I noticed that GA sees me in real-time, which only called for more questions. In real-time, it listed me as being in Sacramento. TIP agreed. But if GA sees me in real time, then why not my page views? And if it does see my page views, then why would that say I was in CH while RT said Sac???

I sent the people at LiveJournal a message saying that it was too bad there was no easy way to make all posts private or friends only, and was told that a plus subscription would make that easy enough. But then today I accidentally discovered a quick and simple way to do just that. So now LJ and MD are private while MO is friends only. This way I can focus on maintaining/editing one blog only while the others serve as a backup.

Last night I finally got around to organizing our file box with hard copies of things pertaining to things like manuals, taxes, insurance and things like that.

Not gonna do much tonight. Just read, proofread/publish old stuff, and copy old stuff over here as well.

Later…

Was thinking of the financial pinch Tammy and Mark have been feeling, and it just seems kind of bizarre. Not that I don’t doubt it, as hard times can fall upon anyone. It’s the timing that’s a bit unnerving. Upon moving in here, although it wasn’t a serious fear that was always at the forefront of my mind, I did voice my concern to Tom about Tammy going broke so she would be unable to help us if we went broke again, too. If God can hate Tammy enough to damn her physically like He has been doing for years now, he can curse her in other ways, too. Well, why not pick a way that could negatively affect two people He hates?

I know that Tammy can’t accept that God is not always good and that no, He doesn’t love us all equally, and yes, He really does play favorites at times. Like most people out there, this is just too scary a concept to possibly admit and accept. God favors, protects and blesses some, but like it or not, He also lets some people suffer unfairly. And yes, He really does give some of us more than we can handle. Take that absolutely sickening and heartbreaking case of the woman who was gang-raped, beaten and ultimately killed in India. God gave her more than she could handle. So why do some people feel they are invincible and assume that just because they’ve always had it good – or at least had had it good for a while – that He won’t one day sic a sack of potatoes on them too heavy to bear? Sorry, folks, but none of us are exempt from His wrath and hate.

Really hope, though, that my husband and I never again experience such hard times and that surgery will put Mark back on his feet and back in business.

I’m no longer going to proofread and post old journals as often as I have been because it’s just so much work. Like Andy said, what’s the rush? I have about 180 more entries to go and will now post just a couple a day instead of 10-15. It’s been a very time-consuming project, I’m sick of it, and I need a break.

I still haven’t gotten back to my stories and languages, and now it’s time to decide if I want to start learning a new language or review old ones. I think I’ll do both. I’ll review some Italian and maybe enroll myself in the French course. I already know a little French, so that should help the less advanced lessons. Then I was thinking I may go for the Hindi, Russian, and maybe even Dutch, since it’s related to German. I can already feel that excitement and anticipation building up that only a true language junkie could understand, sort of like a racecar driver revving up his engines and ready to go. When you practically have tears of joy in your eyes over the thrill of learning a new language, even if it’s not quite “new,” you know you’re a real language addict. I can understand a lot of French I read since it’s another romance language, but I’m sick of not always knowing its pronunciation guidelines so I can speak it as well as read and understand it. So… French 101, here I come!

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 2013 I’m still torn between thinking my CH viewer is me vs. someone else. Sometimes it jumps a count when I hit my blog, sometimes it doesn’t. So if it’s me it’s counting, it’s doing it in a really weird way. I also still can’t figure out why some trackers see things that others don’t. According to GA, I’ve had visitors from countries TIP can’t seem to see.

Another short, sweet and probably boring entry, mostly cuz I don’t have much to say and am quite busy.

They took Tom and other coworkers to Thunder Valley Casino for a buffet that was outrageously expensive ($30), even though he didn’t have to pay for it. He didn’t bother with gambling since we have money and he says it’s not as fun to do alone. He could’ve with coworkers, but that wouldn’t be much fun for him either. Coworkers are for working with, not playing with. Maybe we’ll go together sometime. It’s just not a high priority now. First I want to get the savings back in the 5-digit range so spending 3K-5K on the renovations won’t leave me feeling at risk and insecure. We’re determined to keep our credit score up there cuz our next car will probably be some sort of luxury car with many fringe benefits, even if it’ll be used. At least a Mercedes or a Lexus wouldn’t stand out here and be as at risk. Besides, at 7pm, the front gate is rolled into place. The back gate is always locked. No transmitter, no entry.

I just hope the dream I had last night doesn’t mean anything, cuz in it Tom was saying that they announced they would never again give raises at work. Tom, however, says he’s sure he’ll get another raise again someday.

After a long, hard poverty stint, it’s still both shocking and weird to be doing this well. I just worry about how long it’ll last. All good things seem to come to an end. Like sweeping. I used to win something every few days, but now I’m hardly winning shit. Things just aren’t what they used to be where that’s concerned. Too many people entering.

If you think I’m mischievous now – imagine if I could be 100% psychic in whatever way I wanted! The monthly newsletter would magically get edited upon delivery to each house here right after it was dropped off. Instead of “Hello, everyone,” it would read something like, “Hello, butt fuckers!” Then again, some of these old folks may have heart attacks.

Nane’s gone to TR for a week and I’ll miss her while she’s gone. She’s still my hottie and she and I are still pretty close, even if we’ll never get to meet face to face.

Later…

Gonna hit the Walmart in Roseville on Sunday cuz it’s got a better selection. Working tomorrow is optional for Tom, but he decided to take advantage of the big bucks he’d get.

All the working out I’ve been doing is really beginning to make a difference in my appearance more so than with the scale. I’m losing inches and looking more toned. Only problem is I still have a ton of fat on me and I’m not sure much of it will ever go away. As Tom says, though, it can take a year or two, which is why it’s so hard for so many people to stick to. I’ll settle for just not gaining anymore.

Got everything done that needs to be done, including organizing the file box, and now it’s off to watch YouTube vids.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 2013 My CH visitor has got to be a bot or me after all. On GA it says every single page has at least 1 view, but on Blogger itself, most pages (posts from previous years I’ve been copying in) haven’t been viewed at all. I’m almost disappointed as it takes the mystery and the fun of guessing out of it.

I did get the Fire ring that I didn’t expect to get. It looks nicer in person. Problem is it’s so big I couldn’t even wear it on my thumb.

Still have a bit of sensitivity around the “new” tooth. Hmm… maybe she should’ve just left it alone.

I still have different colors in mind for the bedrooms and carpet, but still don’t know what we’ll end up with for sure. I go back and forth in my mind between crème colored carpet, lavender, and mint green. Whatever it is is gonna be lighter than this shit brown we’ve got now.

I suppose this is a short, boring post, but there really isn’t much to update on. I’ve copied entries from 1987-1990 over here as well as all of 2012 and everything I’ve written so far this year.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 2013 Makes me nervous when I see them pull the SUV out of their garage and into the carport next door like they’re clearing the garage so they can work on something noisy in it, but I haven’t heard a thing.

Had a long chat with my sister, but first, let me shut Bjork up and skip to the next song. Whoever told that bitch she could sing anyway? Guess it goes to show once again that the music business is more about who you know, how much money you have, and who you’re willing to fuck.

Anyway, I couldn’t get the MagicJack to work. It said, “Call in progress,” but I never heard any ringing. Tammy saw that I tried to call, though. I used the cell to finally get through, and I think Tom and I each having a cell is enough. So I’ll probably cancel my MJ subscription when it expires. No, I can’t go hands-free that way or listen to messages online, but how often do I do this anyway?

There was only one thing Tammy said that disturbs me and has me wondering if it’s even true, though I don’t see why she’d make it up other than to feel she was “counter-attacking” me for believing she or Bill got our new address from Tom’s family when we moved from Phoenix to Maricopa so they could feed me to the pigs after I threatened Bill by mail and on his answering machine, which I no longer believe. I’ll get to what I believe soon enough.

Most of this entry will be kept out of public and will only be shared with just a few close, trusted friends. Consider yourself LL’d if you get to read this – loved and lucky.

Tammy has been known to be a hypochondriac and a complainer that makes my complaints seem like nothing. She may still be the complainer from hell (I don’t mind, though), but there’s no way in hell she’s making up or exaggerating the medical problems she and Mark have.

When I called her I told her she didn’t have to tell me anything she didn’t feel comfortable telling me, but she waved that off and said, “You’re my sister, so I want to tell you everything.” Then the complaints tumbled out like a waterfall, mostly about Stephanie and Lisa.

Tammy used to have a friend named Mary, who had 3 daughters. Their father, like most fathers, preferred not to be in the picture. Eventually, Mary met Mark and was finally happy to have a guy care about her kids and raise them like they were his own. Then Mary died of cancer. I’m pretty sure Tammy and Mary didn’t meet till long after Mary married Mark. Anyway, one of the daughters is Stephanie. She’s now 33 and positively fucked in the head. She’s on disability and she hangs with guys that do drugs and I guess one of them got arrested for assaulting an old man. Not something Mark can just “ignore” and “avoid” and remove himself from any more than some of us can ignore insanely loud neighbors as much as we’d like to. I’ve seen Stephanie’s picture. She’s hideously fat and ugly. So much so that she almost makes me look thin and pretty. More importantly, she’s really put a lot of stress on Mark, and again, it’s not the kind of drama one can walk away from that easily. Stephanie lives in Indiana right now and when Mark drove to Ohio to see his brother and then to Indiana to see his daughter, who knew he was coming, she wasn’t there.

Stephanie, like Lisa, was/is also into stealing. Lisa was on cocaine for a while, and Tammy said she stole her wedding ring and sold it for 3K. This is on top of the constant, constant lies. I never could understand adult lying, as funny as that may sound. I can see not divulging info so as not to hurt someone or maybe softening the truth a bit, and yes, I would lie and say I knew nothing about it if I committed a crime I was guilty of, but why lie as adults when people don’t have the hold on us they do as kids? No one can punish me for admitting I’m a sexist. They can’t take away my stereo for a week or make me stand in a corner and face the wall. So while I may not need to broadcast it with a neon “I’M A SEXIST!” tee, to whom must I fear and hide it? But that’s just how these girls are; lie after lie after lie.

While I don’t doubt the drama Tammy’s going through, I also wonder how truthful she’s being in general. It’s not like she’s a habitual liar or anything like that, but she has lied in the past and there are some inconsistencies in some of her stories that seem to go beyond normal forgetfulness. She went from losing 30 pounds to 14 pounds when she was sick. Her dog used to be 85 pounds and now it’s 90 pounds. Ok, so most of us mammals gain weight with age, but there are other things, like the letter I supposedly “accidentally” sent Sarah and Becky that was meant for her before I dumped her in 1999. At first I thought she was saying it was intentionally aimed at them, and I was like, why in the world would I have gone off on my nieces who were just kids and had nothing to do with whatever was going on? They never did anything wrong, though a couple of them, particularly Lisa, were extremely rude to me when we were all bickering online in 2009, but I have since ignored Lisa. I don’t hate her, but I don’t want to be in touch with her, and she hasn’t made any attempts to contact me either since she flung her rude and false accusations at me that bordered on sheer insanity. She’s not on disability, though, which sort of surprises me. She’s a CPA, which is a little more involved than a candy striper. She cleans up patients and stuff like that.

Makes me glad, once again, that we never had kids of our own. What if, no matter how well we treated it, it grew up to be a crazy, deceitful druggie that brought so much grief and stress into our lives as if life alone didn’t dish out enough shit to us along the way?

Really wish she hadn’t gone and brought up Bill, though. Some subjects we just DON’T want to hear about no matter how much we’ve faced them and dealt with them, and know that nothing can change the past. I don’t remember what it was she said. Some casual comment about him driving Becky or Sarah somewhere.

Tammy has changed for the better so much but is still the same old Tammy at the same time. The deceptiveness is still there and so is the thirst for vengeance. It may be subtle in some ways, but it’s an underlying thing I can sense. Hell, she even admitted a while back trying to spite Lisa off of worker’s comp. So she’s one of those that I’d trust immensely if I ever needed help, but that I also know I must tread lightly with, be careful what I say, and hope to hell I never piss off. I wouldn’t hesitate to dump her or anyone else I thought was too toxic to have in my life, but I hope I don’t have to. Not just cuz no one wants to hate their sister so much they’d dump them, but because she’d never let me live in peace. Sadly, Tammy, like Kim, Molly and many others, can’t just move on. Instead, she picks on, follows and harasses anyone she can. Blocking and ignoring her would be easy enough, but she would abuse our numbers and I don’t even want to think about what she may do with our address. So that’s why I trust her when she’s happy with me, but don’t trust her at all when she’s not. I used to pick on those I dumped or that dumped me, but once I realized how immature and risky that was I began to simply avoid and ignore them whenever possible. Wish more people were like that.

While I have never denied sending her and Bill some nasty stuff, I absolutely have NO recollection whatsoever of accidentally addressing an envelope meant for her to not just one of my nieces, but to two?! Would love to have seen the postmark on the envelope to see if it really came from Arizona and not from someone trying to make me look awfully bad, cuz I just don’t see how, no matter how pissed I may’ve been at the time, I put the wrong name down in the heat of the moment… twice. Is she sure she isn’t just saying this due to how angry I was at the way she handled certain things in the past?

When confronted with the letter she sent Tom in defense of Bill, she told me she had no self-esteem and that due to her childhood, she felt she deserved the abuse she got from men. Now I’ll be quick to admit that at the time I didn’t understand why women stayed with abusive men. It made no sense to hang on for the kids and all that shit, but I realize people don’t always parent the same way they handle relationships. Now don’t get me wrong, I still think there are some truly sick and twisted women out there that get off on that shit. If some like rough sex, why not a rough relationship, huh? Take Rihanna, for example, who went back to Chris Brown after he beat her up. I don’t know much about Rihanna’s personal life and I don’t care, but I always had the feeling that she truly enjoyed the abuse, the attention, and the sympathy it brought her. I can’t wait for the day Brown hits the wrong woman, though that’s the problem with these sick cocks; they’re usually smart enough to avoid women they know won’t fight back or leave or both.

I can kind of get where she’s coming from as far as feeling unworthy of good people when you consider the types of “friends” I had in the past (Fran, Nervous, Jenny, etc.). I was too damn nice and forgiving and I took a lot of shit I’d NEVER take today. I let people jerk me around like a puppet, and I too, felt like I’d never get anyone worth having. If a man had raised a hand to me, I’d have fought back, but I also would’ve been dumb enough to forgive him more than I should have had men been my main cup of tea. These days, if I were single and dating and happened to get with a man instead of a woman, the beating I’d give him would be so savage if he laid a hand on me that I’d not only end up in jail for a while but would never even THINK of forgiving him no matter how hot he was or what the bastard’s excuse was.

I try to tell myself that holding grudges against people like Bill all these years later is pointless, but as she pointed out about leaving abusive men… it’s not always that easy. It’s sort of like the guy whose rock flew out of his truck and smashed our windshield. Well, he may not have done it deliberately and chances are he never even knew about it, but you still want to slap the guy and make him pay for the damage, you know? So it’s sort of like that.

“Look at it from a logical standpoint,” I told myself. “You did threaten the guy over family drama that had nothing to do with you directly, and if you had any faith in the cops with all the corruption running around out there, you just may call them too, if someone left you a threatening message. Lastly, if you didn’t know there was a warrant out for your arrest, then how could he?”

BUT… and as even the cop himself that came to see me about the matter said, he would’ve been pissed off too, had someone abused his family. Also, I was 3000 miles away. A little too far to be any real threat, don’t you think? I think the call to the cops was just his way of “getting even,” so to speak. So let’s just say that my letter and threatening phone message were wrong and illegal and nothing I’d ever do again, but it’s not exactly something I regret. In other words, I don’t feel sorry for the guy, and no, I wouldn’t trust myself alone with him either. Still don’t know how the hell he found me, but I now believe it probably went down as she said – he called the pigs and they hunted me down. Back then I used to think they either called Tom’s family (those assholes would give out our info) or got my SIL’s # from mom, but looking back on it I can see how that probably wasn’t so. The worst Tammy might’ve told him is what town we moved to, cuz I’m pretty sure I mentioned that to her.

The stupid fucker went to her and Mark about my call, and she told him, “It’s your phone, so what the hell do you expect me to do about it?”

That is so, so typical of people too, to drag others into shit and not confront the source directly. Even before this incident I NEVER liked the guy. Worst guy she ever went with. I’m so glad she now has a good, loving, caring and compassionate guy like Mark in her life. I don’t like violence and I never want to have to raise my fist to anyone, but if anyone ever harmed my husband, me or our property…

Still, some things just ain’t that easy, as she knows. I’ll always despise Bill, pointless or not, and I’ll never forgive the people in Arizona. Not even if they came to me with a million dollars, got on their knees and said, “We’re so, so sorry we had our corrupt cop pal type a threatening letter to get your prints on in interrogation, then frame you with (if it wasn’t sent to us by someone else we pissed off). It’s true; we hate whites, we hate Jews, and we were just seeking revenge for your city complaint over our HORRENDOUS noise, trash and vandalism. We knew that because you had made a few threats for real in the past it would be easy to use against you, and all in a state that favors minorities and in a time when playing the race card is hip. We knew we would be the ones to be believed no matter what you said. We can never replace the time you lost to our vindictiveness, but here’s the money back you lost on account of us, and even more.”

I think that more often than not, people don’t realize the seriousness of their vengefulness when they spite others be it through the law or not. In the heat of the moment they lash out and that’s it for them, but it’s far from it for the people they abuse.

Some things may be possible in time, but they just ain’t so easy – quit smoking… not that easy. Lose 40 pounds… not that easy. Forgive and forget those who wronged the hell out of you… not that easy. Got a driving phobia? Just jump in a car and drive… not that easy. Smile if you’re depressed… not that easy. Tell yourself it’ll all be ok… not that easy. Set your alarm to keep a schedule… not that easy. Guy getting too physical? Just kick his ass and leave… not that easy.

Win a million dollars, Jodi… not that easy.

In my next entry, I’ll get into the health update she gave me.

Later…

Still stumped as to who my CH visitor is, but I’m now leaning toward it being a stranger. Whoever it is has a lot of time on their hands cuz they check in on and off throughout the day. That’s why I’ve ruled out the dentist. Unless she’s suddenly obsessed with my blog and checking it between patients, it’s not her. I agree with Tom that it’s probably a stranger as opposed to someone in the park.

If it’s me it’s counting, then it’s doing it in chunks and counting wrong. Hmm… maybe it’s counting whenever I ok the “this site contains adult content” notice that periodically comes up.

Went to GA’s site and excluded my IP which I thought was already filtered out since I told it right on Blogger to exclude me, but maybe it wasn’t on GA’s site. Time will tell.

I talked with Aly earlier who doesn’t doubt Kim’s having someone read my blog for her. But who are they? The only new regular that’s visible is that CH visitor yet I’ve never known Kim to have friends around here. She said she was surprised Kim never created a fake account on Ask to contact me. Come to think of it, so am I. Creating fake accounts is her specialty.

Alison says a part of her misses Molly because even though Molly was a crazy, lying bitch, she at least always knew where she stood with her. She’s done with both Kim and Kathy on the other hand. Kathy is just too two-faced and cannot accept people as they are. She never was a true friend. One minute she’s nice to your face, the next she’s either dumping you or making fun of you on her FB page. That’s what Aly said she was doing to both the “Crazy Rat Lady” and the “Crazy Cat Lady.” I guess when Kathy learned that Aly wouldn’t take a cheaper apartment that didn’t allow animals (though it made perfect sense not to take a cheaper place that wouldn’t allow her own mutts when she and Adam moved); she became the “Crazy Cat Lady.” As for me, I don’t care what I am to Kathy because she is nothing to me. I think she only stopped harassing me on Ask because she knows I know where she lives and where Adam works. Knowledge is power. :)

To finish up with my chat with Tammy, which lasted about an hour when she had to leave to go pick Peppy up from the groomer’s, Mark returns to his cardiologist on the 20th. They know he has to have surgery due to clogged arteries, but they don’t know what procedure they’re going to do. They may or may not do stints. They’re hoping that after surgery he’ll be as good as new again and able to get back to their side business which was the one making a lot of money. This was doing home improvements of various kinds. Why he bothered to keep his other job managing some company (I forgot what she said it was), beats me. For the benefits, I guess.

Here’s where the conversation took a surprising turn. Money is the one area in life I thought Tammy would be forever blessed in, but since Mark has been too ill to work the business, they’ve taken a huge loss. They spent something like 50K last year on their own home improvements and other things not knowing Mark would take ill. But then he started having symptoms of fatigue, poor circulation and trouble breathing.

He’s 63 and I asked if he could retire at 65 or 66, but she said they’d never make it. I was stunned to learn this, but as Tom later pointed out, it’s a common problem for those who own their own business. Tom, on the other hand, risks firings and layoffs, but we’d be ok if he retired at 66. We’d be better than ok if he retired at 70. It felt weird to think we’re better off in some monetary ways than she is since God always made sure I was the financial underdog of the family. He’s even worried about his other job cuz they’ve been talking budget cuts.

While it may be more practical for them to give up their 2600-square-foot place and the land/gardens they’ve been having trouble keeping up with lately, it’s not that easy. The whole cul-de-sac they live on has been in Mark’s family for ages. It’s where he grew up and all he’s ever really known.

Neither will seeing Mark in Yale-New Haven be easy on Tammy. First they have to come up with hotel money for who knows how long, and then she has to figure out how to get to him in her condition. It’s a huge area and she can only walk so far. That’s why she doesn’t groom Pep herself to save money. She can’t just groom a 90-pound dog.

As for her own lung issues, she’s postponed treatment till they know what’s up with Mark. He could be ok, he could not be ok, or he could not make it. The stress they’re under must be hell. Their lives may not be on the line to the degree that ours were, but I’m sure it’s scarily close enough or they at least feel that way. Tammy said they’ll eventually only be replacing one lung since doing both would be too risky.

Unfortunately, Tammy doesn’t get much on disability. They basically treat those on disability like welfare bums. I guess they want to pay so little to encourage those who aren’t truly disabled back to work. Lotta people would be injuring themselves if you could make a decent living off of it. At least she’s getting something. I’ll never get that simply because I didn’t work for many years and got married at the time I was last on it. This really pisses me off, too. Getting married didn’t cure me, and so what if a person didn’t work for many years? If they’re disabled, they’re disabled. Period.

She did tell me a funny story about Pep catching a possum and setting it free unharmed, so that’s nice. Meanwhile, since it seems unlikely things will stay the same for them, things are probably either going to get better or worse. Time can only tell which one it will be. If I had to guess (and hope), both their conditions will either be improved or stabilized.

She says Becky and Sarah are taller than her. Damn, that’s tall! Between that and their weight, no wonder I never hear talk of dating and boyfriends on FB. Men love youth but are rarely fans of tall girls or big girls. Hell, I could probably catch a guy easier and I look like shit. I feel bad for them, especially since they’re so young and are only human. They don’t seem to have many friends either. They have a good number of FB friends, but I doubt most of them are really “friends.” Anytime they post about hanging out with someone, it’s always either with each other or other family members. No girls’ night out. No hot dates.

I thought I couldn’t plug my oil warmer in the plug I wanted to use by my desk cuz it’d make the warmer face sideways. Then I noticed a circular groove around the warmer’s plug, twisted it, and now it’s upright! Woo-hoo!

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 2013 How did my CH visitor happen to go from 62 page views to just 43??? Still not sure how GA works. It’s a very complicated system and setup. Still, whoever they are, they make up for 71% of my visits. Why isn’t GA tracking other countries, though? It’s saying I’ve only had 5 unique visitors in the last week or so from CA, CT and NY, yet I know I’ve had much, much more than that.

Guess we’re back with the Jes pest now as well as early yesterday morning. The water pressure is a little low. I suppose it’s about time for the next round of water games. Well, fuck this shit cuz I need to take a shower!

I’m also miserably hungry that it almost hurts. I hate PMS hunger with a passion! It is just so, so hard to get rid of. I wasn’t too bad yesterday, but when I woke up starving I knew I was in for a hungry day since I don’t usually eat much my first few hours. I’ve had about 600 calories and am still famished, so I’ll go add a 300-calorie can of chicken dumpling soup soon enough and see if that helps. If not I just might eat till I burst!

I keep having to restock my Ask file for background pics for Andy and our picture game, and it’s getting old. If he weren’t so damn picky about what I post I wouldn’t keep running out, but he’d hate 80% of what I’d like to post. I just don’t have the time he has to put into it. It’s also more of a priority to him whereas my top online priorities are blogging. Besides, it’d keep it more special and my pics would last longer if I only checked in twice a day or something like that. I really should focus more on my work anyway. Or maybe I’ll just say fuck it and post what I want. After all, I don’t always like the pics he posts. Sorry, but I like flowers just like he likes celebrities! Maybe if celebs weren’t making worse and worse of a role model each year for young people I’d see them differently. I doubt it, though. I mean, they’re just people. And I personally find nature more pleasing to the eye than 95% of the people on this planet.

No exciting dreams except for Maliheh emailing Tom pretending to be a sheriff and threatening legal action against me for mentioning her in my blog. LOL, I not only doubt she has Tom’s email address, but I would never succumb to such threats. I’m not breaking any laws (but impersonating a cop would be) and I know and understand that people who make such threats usually have something to hide. When the letter I started to someone about the corrupt pig was taken during a routine cell toss back in ‘01, I knew someone had a seriously guilty conscience. They certainly didn’t take it to have something interesting to read while sitting on the toilet waiting for a dump to come on.

Now I’m going to take my shower and I better get enough water pressure! Damn, I feel like I’m back in the country (in the wrong kind of way).

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 9, 2013 10 more views from CH and I’m still not sure who it is. Maybe it really is me it’s tracking or a bot.

Had a strange dream and a scary dream, but first, Tom showed me how to shoot vids, so I’ll play around with the software a bit and eventually share some cute rat vids. The rats that never shut up when I’m trying to work. Right now one of them is chewing on a peach pit.

As I may’ve already mentioned, I’m determined to start setting more realistic and doable goals for myself. Keeping active and eating healthy so I don’t gain any more weight is reasonable. Expecting to lose 30-40 pounds at this age is not.

My period is just days away so my energy levels are down and my hunger levels are up. Here’s where it’s easy for a woman to gain monthly weight that isn’t just water, so I have to just tough out the hunger. Most of it, anyway.

So why does my hair keep getting curlier and curlier with age? I have such tight spirals that they almost look like dreadlocks from a distance.

Tom made a 5-dollar profit on $10 worth of scratch tickets and is convinced that someone down the street has a workshop and that the sawing I heard wasn’t next door. He could hear them when he was out watering. I guess that would explain why I could barely hear it in the house. I could just make it out by the bedroom window, but not at the front of the house. It’s a good thing we’re not next to this house cuz that’d be insanely loud! I’m surprised they’d even allow that here. “People still have to have a life,” Tom said. Yeah, but should it extend beyond the walls of other houses? If it should, then I should be able to blast my music.

He met Jim, the 6:00 Man, as I’d call him, when he was out watering early.

Until God figures out a way to take it all away from us – no scratch that – until we grow old and die, there are a dozen positives for every negative to this place. I absolutely love not having to worry about running out of propane.

For the last few nights, I’ve been waking up hungry and having to pee. PMS hunger can be hard to curb and when you do it isn’t for long.

I’m too tired to write about the dreams now and why I hate September and October so much. I just want to eat, get in the shower, and get to work.

Later…

I’m pleasantly amazed by Nane’s “muah” and affectionate messages earlier. She was offline for a few days dealing with Internet issues. In a week she and Askim will be renting a house down in Turkey near Askim’s mom in a place called Kappadokia, or Cappadocia, as English speakers would spell it. So between being back online and her upcoming trip, she’s quite happy. Wish I could kick Askim out for a night, though I don’t know that I’d like being in TR. They have some beautiful beaches, but it’s Muslim country.

That’s 5 times I’ve had the runs, all pissing me off right along with the guy next door and his insanely LOUD blower. I still hate being so close to others, but if it wasn’t the guy’s blower 3’ away, it’d be some other guy’s motorcycle 200’ away. Still, why does it have to take a whole hour to blow such a tiny lot? He started right as I went to dust the bedrooms and I could hear it over the stereo. I turned it off and switched to the iPod, but I could still hear the damn thing. Finally, I had to switch to my around-ear headphones.

Not that this much is bothersome, but did they open up a new freeway recently or something? For the last few nights, I’ve noticed I can hear vehicles on the freeway that I never noticed before.

Really, really disappointed that I haven’t gotten any win notices. sighs Guess I’ll just have more free time for other things I’ve been planning for months if I continue not to win.

As much as I hate winter – even mild ones – I’ll feel better once it’s November. I hate September and October because it seems that that’s when most of the shit I’ve been through as an adult has happened.

September of 2000 was pre-sentencing on account of the white-hating freeloaders and their corrupt pig pal who worked for a corrupt system.

September of 2004 was when we lost our land in Oregon and it was on to 9 years of renting dumps (except for the duplex which, of course, was the noisiest).

September of 2011 was when they stopped our unemployment checks before having a job.

October of 2000 was when I was sentenced and lost half a year of my life to a vengeful pack of welfare bums with the wrong friends.

October of 2007 was our first of two survival scares, though the second one was far more critical.

October of 2011 was when the sick fucks in Arizona came at me online and tried to scare me into thinking the cops had built another “case” against me. It started to work at first, though I knew I had to have been framed again since I didn’t do anything wrong… until I realized all their mistakes.

So while I’m not overly nervous or anything like that, I’m being very cautious. We’re not spending money unnecessarily in case any surprises come up that need to be dealt with.

In last night’s strange dream, I was visiting Nane and I shopped at a mall while she went to work. She reminded me not to get anything I couldn’t fit in my suitcase. After she left I went to check out some shops, but they were all filled with Muslims playing Ping-Pong and pool.

In the scary dream I had, Tom and I were in the lobby of some big and busy hotel. He said there was a clinic across the street and that now (that evening) would be a good time to get me a checkup since he’d be tied up tomorrow.

Out we went into the cool rainy night and I said, “I never thought I’d say this, but this weather is a refreshing change after the constant heat and sun we’ve been having. He didn’t say anything. Instead, his and everyone else’s features seemed to disappear, making them all look the same and little more than shadowy human forms with a sinister air.

We entered a small building that was dimly lit and seemingly deserted. I was surprised anyone would see me that late, but Tom led us to a small room with a few chairs in it. We sat down and I momentarily closed my eyes and rubbed my face. When I opened my eyes again, the room was darker and Tom was gone.

I ran out of the room calling his name. When I got no answer I went outside to see if he decided to wait out there. There were 5 or 6 people chatting and smoking, but none were Tom. I ran back inside and into a large room near the “waiting” room. I began calling for help. I saw flickers of movement coming from a brightly lit room toward the end of the larger room, but no one came. I woke up crying for help and feeling lost, alone and rather worried.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 2013 Citrus Heights jumped from 22 to 33 views sometime after the late afternoon. The good Doc? A bot? Bots are usually pretty quick and consistent, and when I looked at the varying times spent on the pages they viewed, I thought a bot wasn’t very likely. Bots will typically cycle through many pages a second at a time.

Yesterday was a long, hot, fun and productive day, but again I tired out early and slept forever. PMS fatigue, I guess. Despite being active for over an hour between running, yoga and swimming, I gained back the pound I lost. I hope it’s just water since I haven’t been overeating. A little high-carbed, though. Oh well. I’m just one of those that doesn’t really get results from diet and exercise.

Tom put the new faucet on in the master bath and I like it much, much better. I always preferred single levers.

A wonderful letter from my Italian dad topped the day off. He said he’s feeling better, still running the group home, but that it’s still hard without Mom.

He’s really happy for us about our new home and the funny part was when he said, “Be good to each other. There I go acting like a father.” LOL, he’s welcome to it. When we’re younger we don’t usually appreciate stuff like that, but when we’re older it has a way of making us smile.

He said the weather’s beginning to change there and he dreads the winter. He’ll be thinking of me out here, he said, and to keep in touch cuz my letters give him a lift.

I thought about it, and if my gut feeling is right about that being my Italian mom who came to say goodbye last year, isn’t it strange that I have only sensed her presence, but never my bio parents? Not that I’d want to, but I’ve never sensed grandparents, parents or my brother. Only my Italian mom. Why is that? I wonder. It must mean that either my bio parents don’t give a shit, or for some reason, they are unable to “contact” me.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 2013 Roseville’s still at 9 views, but Citrus Heights jumped from 10 to 22. It’s gotta be either the Doc or no one I know. It hit me later on that if it were someone Tom works with, they probably would’ve mentioned it to him. Also, the only one here who knows our full name is Joy, and what would she care?

For a while, I had my Facebook settings set to disallow friend invites from everyone. But since one of my old stalkers prefers to hide in anonymity and the other’s been a good dog, I have now allowed for that once again. So if anyone reading this is interested in adding me there, you can either send me an invite or leave your link here. I’m tired of letting them control me, so to speak. From now on settings are going to be set in such a way because I want them to be that way, and not because of what someone else may be doing. I’m still not ready to go public there just yet and I have my old Ask account deactivated cuz I don’t use it much, but if I decide later on to change settings, I will.

My MD diary will remain closed for now and only used as a backup. Remember, the idea was to cut down the number of blogs I have so any future editing isn’t such a pain. Meanwhile, anyone can leave comments here on Blogger, anonymously or not. As long as it’s not spam or scams, I welcome any feedback, positive or negative. :)

My dentist did a great job installing my new “tooth.” You’d never know it wasn’t real! But as wonderful as she is, I won’t be seeing her again till February when I have my next cleaning. At that point, I’ll schedule to have the 4 remaining fillings (and hopefully no new ones) taken care of.

I have a bit of sensitivity around the new tooth but it’s probably just because it’s recently been worked on and the Doc really “struck a nerve.” Hopefully, it won’t persist. I don’t think it will, but if it does I’ll just have to deal with it and make another appointment.

The plan was to go to Sam’s after the dentist, but they didn’t open for those with our level of membership till 10:00. So we headed to Walmart where I was surprised to learn I could get my hair cut for just $16. The two hairdressers there, both nice but with fried hair, said to come back at 10:00. So off we went to Radio Shack to look at stuff Tom likes but that bores me to tears. There wasn’t anything else around there but insurance companies and stuff like that, so that’s why I let him drag me there.

We went back to the salon where the hairdresser with long black fried hair said Diana would be with me soon. After a few minutes, in she came with her short fried blue hair. She washed my hair with Redken’s Diamond Oil shampoo and conditioner, then trimmed the dead ends off my layers and evened them out so they blend well together. It’s still long and doesn’t look much different. Just healthier.

By the time we got to Sam’s, it was getting crowded and loud, but we stocked up on many things and even got a free paring knife.

After Sam’s, we came home and I tackled laundry and dishes while Tom played with some of his electronic gadgets. Next thing I knew I was exhausted as hell. I ended up sleeping forever. Guess I needed it.

My nice new pink yoga mat came today which will definitely make ab work easier on my back as opposed to this horribly worn carpet I can’t wait to replace.

Can’t wait to order a set of 3 rat figurines on Amazon I found that’s so adorably cute!

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2013 Up early today, and in a few hours I’ll be in the dentist’s chair. Not my favorite place to be, so it’s a good thing my dentist is such a nice lady. It’s always nice to see her. Been dreaming about her a lot lately too, but can never remember any details. Couldn’t be that bad then, right?

Are we going to have to end up calling and begging this provider for reliability, too? sighs I know that dropping off once or twice a day is pretty normal as frustrating as that can be in an area so populated. At the edge of Sacramento, you’re in a pretty populated area. I know our cable is fine, so there’s not much else we can do about it with all the people around us.

Lost another pound but am going to take the day off to relax. Other than laundry, Tom and I plan to spend his 3 days off doing things around the house, swimming and just relaxing. I’ll still enter sweeps and work out at least some of the time, though, LOL.

Alison says Molly has been online at times, according to her Facebook profile. She just plays games and statuses about her weight and how much she hates living where she’s living, but you mean you can teach an old dog new tricks? I’m surprised. I find it awfully hard to believe she can now restrain herself from reaching out to or at least peeking in on those she used to harass, but I’ve never known her to disable cookies to avoid showing up on my tracker. Oh no, she’s never been shy. Question is, is Kim following me on Blogger, or is she too stupid to disable cookies? I know anonymity is very important to her.

Google Analytics seems to see more than TIP can see. According to it, I’ve got a regular in Citrus Heights and Roseville. My dentist? Her assistant? Well, I know it’s not me cuz it’s set not to record my activity. I guess it could be anybody. People connected to the park, Tom’s job – anybody. That’s why I’m careful what I say. In fact, I’m not going to post this paragraph in public or the one before it about Kim and Molly.

When I asked Doc H if she’d been to my blog and she said yes, I remember being surprised cuz there were no TIP hits in this area. Could TIP just be blind to her for some reason, other than GA?

I’m surprised I didn’t think to look her up on Facebook till now, but I found her business page and “liked” it and left a comment.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 2013 I luuuuuvvv this house! Just wish it were in the country from 8am - 4pm on weekdays.

The Glyteratti guy says the free ring I was supposed to get has been sent, but I’ll believe it when I see it. What’s really disappointing is the lack of win notices after the 1st. I used to win something every few days, even if it wasn’t much. But now there’s just way too much competition. Chances are I won’t renew my 3-month sweeping subscription when it expires.

Wish I had more to say but I don’t. I’m just doing my usual things – sweeping, writing, cleaning and working out. Oh, I ordered a 1” yoga mat on Amazon. That’ll help cushion me since this carpet is so worn out you might as well be on the floor.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 2013 I have this itching and burning sensation between my legs and what feels like a few zits. A yeast infection? I don’t have any discharge, but I’m still going to have Tom pick me up something on the way home. For now, I’m using hydrocortisone on it. The “zits” sort of surround my clit, just inside the hairline. I’ve had this before. I hope Tom’s theory is right and that it’s just normal irritation which, as he points out, occurs at the same time of month. It could be that or from working out. Women get drier with age, but sweat and moisture down there can bring on fungal infections. I’d rather treat it at home before it gets out of hand and I end up costing us more money than I already have. Money that could be going toward home improvements.

So why did they leave next door at 4:30 am? Just wondering where they would need to go so early. And was that them I heard with what sounded like a circular saw yesterday afternoon? Tom said it would depend on the saw as to whether or not it can be heard in here, but that trimmers can also sound the same. It’s true that it could’ve come from the common area down the street. I couldn’t tell for sure. I could barely hear it here but next door was home at the time. Their vehicle was in the garage and I don’t know that there’d be room in that garage to work with the big SUV they have. Amazingly, they don’t appear to have a dog. I would think I would have heard it by now and seen them walking it if they did. Therefore, since there’s always got to be something going on with my neighbors, I still wouldn’t be surprised if he turned that garage into a virtual workshop too much of the time. Just got a bad feeling about it. I hope I’m wrong cuz no one wants to listen to regular sawing or hammering. At least I sure don’t. Nothing I can do about it if that’s what he chooses to do, though. They were here first and it occurs during normal daytime hours.

Fucking male neighbors! I’m seriously sick of the racket they make with their loud vehicles and their damn power tools and other shit they do to be totally obnoxious. I’ve had some shitty female neighbors, but this was in a whole ‘nother time, place and situation. There isn’t much racket you’d hear from women in a retirement community that I can think of.

Unless I wasn’t hearing it since I was mostly at the front of the house, traffic was quieter in back yesterday. They still could’ve done some trimming, but Monday’s rain would’ve canceled mowers and blowers. It’s back to hot and dry and will be close to 100° in a few days.

Got my first taste of yoga yesterday. Some of it was harder than I thought it’d be, but this is mostly cuz I’m not familiar with it. Also, I’m too fat to be as flexible as you need to be for some of these exercises as opposed to lacking the strength to do it. I don’t see how this can boost the metabolism and promote weight loss as they claim, but I can see it helping with strength and the prevention of any additional weight gain. That’s what I’ve pretty much resigned myself to cuz it’s the most doable and realistic goal for a 47-year-old who can’t stand to eat 1000 calories or less every single day. No, I don’t like remaining 40 pounds overweight, but it’s better than gaining 40 more. Anyway, I had to stop to watch and learn some of the exercises cuz I couldn’t see the screen while hunched over in some of the positions. I think that as long as I remain active and keep my carbs, sugar and starch levels down, I shouldn’t gain any more weight. I’d be totally screwed if I ever acquired an illness or injury that prevented me from being active.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 2013 So it finally rained. I was surprised. I thought we were another 3-6 weeks away from any rain. But it rained on and off from 4:30 am till after I crashed. There was even some thunder to go with it. I didn’t think we’d hear it as well in here now that we’ve got a real roof, but the patio and carport roofs, which run alongside both sides of the house, are made of metal. You can hear it just fine in here, especially in the laundry room. As nice as it was for variety’s sake since it rarely rains here and I was missing it, I wish it had done that tomorrow. Tomorrow’s when the landscapers and their obnoxious vehicles will be back in service. The ground may still be too wet for mowing, but I’m sure they’ll be out trimming.

I should’ve figured the person asking me on Ask to keep MD going due to Blogger loading too slowly on their phone was Kim. I considered “No one” for a minute, but figured Kim was more likely, if not someone connected to Molly. That gut feeling was reinforced when I was asked if I ever thought it was Kim or Molly as “we” want to keep up with what you write.

Classic Kim style. So was the question asking if I feared my online enemies would get to me in real life. snorts I wish they WOULD come to me!

Anyway, I’ve had enough of her stalking shit for over a year now and felt it was time to deprive her of her reading pleasure. I disagree with Andy who says a whole year of not being able to follow/contact me will get her (or Molly) out of my life forever, cuz these aren’t just people who are obsessed, but crazy as well. The insane live in a constant time warp. I could disappear for a decade and they’d see it as if I were only gone for days.

So I deactivated my main Ask account and have gone private on MD. She’ll just have to “face” me on Blogger or have her “sources” read it for her. I know she doesn’t just prefer MD for its simplicity and its mobile compatibility but for its lack of a tracker as well. Well, tough shit, you trunkless elephant!

Meanwhile, I was relieved to know that in Germany they can still deny messages from strangers, which is what Nane does, even though Kim doesn’t seem fixated on my friends.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 2013 I’m totally on nights now, which I both like and hate. I hate how it just feels all wrong and makes me feel out of sorts in a sense. I like it because it’s dead quiet.

Tom read up on soundproofing and there’s this site that says that due to most sounds coming through windows, you should install a second window with a vinyl frame, not metal or wood. There’s even a company that comes and does customized windows for you. They say it cuts noise by 90%, but what is 90%? 90% of a soft sound may make it seem non-existent, but what about loud vehicles?

And why such huge windows in a bedroom of all places??? They’re 30”x72.” Tom could stand in them.

For now, I’ll probably only get woken up about once a week and it’s usually only for a few minutes. I still can’t believe how much traffic goes through here! I slept fine today being that it was Sunday, but tomorrow I probably won’t sleep as well. Oh well. You learn to live with it. On the flip side, some things turned out better than expected. I really thought we’d hear more barking and that people would be pestering us at the door regularly. I can’t believe how much they pestered us in Maricopa, in the middle of a 10-acre ranch in Nowhere Land, compared to here!

Been working like crazy on setting up my new Blogger blog, copying in and backdating old entries, etc.

Tom’s been taking advantage of the time off to catch up on sleep and get things done around here. He cleaned and fixed the printer and finally replaced the toilet seat in the second bath. Together we changed the rat’s cage, and then I ended up crashing early after reading with the Kindle in bed. Slept for almost 10 hours.

No one tried to shoot me in my dreams, but the guy who runs a diary site wanted to sell me the site. He said he’d go a grand for just anyone, but $500 for friends, haha. I also went to pee on an old abandoned bus in the woods and was surprised to exit the bus to find a light dusting of snow on the ground. Then I saw some sleeping bears and thought I might cuddle up with them for warmth till I realized how insane that would be. :)

Gonna spend the night doing my usual – sweeping, proofreading, dragging old entries over to Blogger. Less than a month to go of the proofreading, yay! Then I can make time for other things like maybe going back to my language studies and story writing. It’s been a while since I’ve done those things.

First and foremost it’s off to workout and shower now that I’ve got some food in my tummy after nearly 15 hours.

Why did Maliheh open my last message to her and how long will she save it? Was it her “response” to my friending her, then quickly canceling the request? Yeah, I had a childish moment. Thought I’d return the favor of playing head games with her, not that she ever was a friend or that I would believe it if she suddenly said she wanted to be.

0 notes

screampied · 1 year ago

Text

✩ here’s the masterlist! — this features published works from 11/11/23 ‘till 04/30/24. 18+ only. for more current & recent works, here’s the second masterlist.

ೀ⋆ MULTI HEADCANONS.

how they brat tame you.

being a brat ‘n spitting their load out.

no nut november.

hit it from the back.

too sweet. (cw aphrodisiacs)

slippery when wet. (cw squirting)

hiding your moans in bed.

she’s a super freak.

gimme gimme more.

three’s a crowd.

ride it like you own it.

but that dick was a 10/10.

just the tip girl.

ride the dick like a carnival.

scream no bologna.

talkin bodyyy.

slut stretch me out.

fuck me like u want me.

getting a screampie.

freak like me.

ೀ⋆ ONESHOTS/FICS.

💭 SATORU GOJO.

fantasize: you screw your fwb to get over your shitty ex. was it worth it though? probably…not.

sweet tooth: two culinary chefs compete on who can make you cream the most. get it?

fifteen seconds of fame: popstar!gojo needs help on warming up his vocal chords. his solution? right between your legs.

bad romance: you get sandwiched between popstar!gojo & his best friend of a bassist, suguru geto.

poker face: instead of receiving his fifth grammy for the night, popstar!gojo gets a…boner.

alejandro: arguing with the famous popstar leads for him to fire you. what happens when you see him with another assistant the next day?

it’s a match! last friday night: you end up ‘accidentally’ matching on tinder with your best friend—then you hook up with him, then the L word gets thrown around. damn!

💭 FUSHIGURO TOJI.

mission failed: nut ruined: you’re hired to kill a famous assassin but instead you end up in his bed.

love me, love me [ not ]: you get arranged to marriage toji. how does a single kiss make you weak so easily?

think i need someone older: fucking your dad's best friend was so wrong but felt so right.

darlin can i be your favorite: you fuck your dad’s two best friends and one of them is you ex-boyfriend (shiu kong)

one of his girlssss: your dad’s best friend finds out about your side hustle of being a camgirl. oops!

knock(her)out: you get shared between two boxers before their big match.

that girl is mine: you meet up with your dad’s best friend one more time, although instead of telling him those three words, you tell him something else.

💭 SUGURU GETO.

sweet tooth: two culinary chefs compete on who can make you cream the most. get it?

jailbreak: you’re a correctional officer for one of your inmates. sleeping with him? not your brightest idea.

bad romance: you get sandwiched between popstar!gojo & his best friend of a bassist, suguru geto.

💭 SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

knock(her)out: you get shared between two boxers before their big match.

ೀ⋆ THIRSTS.

💭 SATORU GOJO.

throat goat.

that’s what i thought.

thats what i thought boy.

lip gloss poppin.

super soaker.

💭 FUSHIGURO TOJI.

jealousy jealousy.

want you back.

thinkin’ bout you.

tease me please me.

talk you through.

want a taste.

hate me fuck me.

talk to me nice.

soft with you.

💭 SUGURU GETO.

no talking.

just a brat.

wear my hoodie.

my pretty girl.

💭 CHOSO KAMO.

my love mine all mine.

draw me, do me.

that’s a good girl.

want your taste.

get humbled.

vampire choso.

sharing is caring

good boy.

missed you.

stuck in the middle.

edge me baby.

can’t take it.

💭 SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

said it’s her first time.

remember your safe word.

give me one more.

twos better than one.

tease me please me.

stretch me baby.

kinda kinky.

wanna please you.

lick me up.

💭 NANAMI KENTO.

can’t live without you.

do i pass?

test me.

give me more.

my messy girl.

💭 HIGURUMA HIROMI.

on call.

nose rider.

love me harder.

relax for me.

my girl.

💭 YUKI TSUKUMO.

let me be your woman.

sharing is caring.

stuck in the middle.

💭 HAKARI KENJI.

fill me up.

too flexible.

slip n slide.

💭 SHIU KONG.

on the hood.

💭 SHOKO IEIRI.

down on me.

#★vegaslists.

12K notes · View notes

bambikisss · 2 years ago

Text

:: GOT ME CRAZY IN LOVE :: END

Jaebeom was one of the newest inmates in the Seoul Prison, and with all of the new inmates, he had to go through psych evaluation…you just so happened to be the one doing it. Will you find the truth about why he was really there or will be one of his newest victims?

Story Warnings: blood, violence, mentions of murder, slight mentions of sexual harassment, mentions of self-harm

Smut Warnings: choking, degradation, oral (male/female receiving), unprotected sex (keep it, safe people)

Your heart knew better than how it was acting when it came to Jaebeom. It knew not to race when he touched your arm or when he brought up the fact that you were wearing the ring he left you after that faithful day you both had the best sex you had in a while in the office. Your heart knew better, yet it let you fall for him.

You fell for someone who was not only a murderer, but you didn't know him fully.

You knew what he told you about himself in the hour sessions you had with him a couple times a week. You had to remind yourself that every time your heart skipped a beat when he smiled at you.

You both would never be able to walk out of the office and go on a date, you both would never be able to cuddle in your bed when it rained, and you would never be able to take him home to see your parents.

He was a convict.

You had arrived in the office the same way you had for the months you had been coming, it now being December. You removed your scarf as Jaebeom was let in, his smile on his face as he sat down. Even though you had asked the guards a while ago to stop putting chains on him when he came into your office, they insisted for safety reasons. You never saw why they needed it but, didn't argue.

"So, what are your plans for this time of year, Y/N?" He asked as you sat down. He had grown comfortable with using your first name, always asking how you were doing when you guys meet. You returned the smile as you let him know that you were going to spend the holidays probably either alone or with your parents, making him frown. He never understood why a gorgeous woman such as yourself was alone. It always shocked him. You shook your head at his try to make you feel wanted, going back to your notes. The meeting went by as fast as the other ones did, you asking about his recent activities rather than digging into the wound that was the murder case. You knew that was why you were brought in, but you just didn't like seeing the pained look on his face every time you brought it up.

You didn't know why, but you just wanted to block out his whole reason for being in the prison in the first place.

"Miss L/N? May I talk to you before you leave for the day?"

You were packing up after your last client left for the day, nodding as the prison's owner came in, closing the door as he sat down. He looked annoyed, playing with his keys that were wrapped around his belt on his big belly. "I take it you found out the reason Mr. Jaebeom committed the crime? Have you gotten my confession?" He asked, making your heart stop as you shook your head. He sighed, his keys slinging back to the belt as he stood up. "I want my answer by Friday, Miss Y/N. Don't let him fool you. Don't let this prime opportunity slip for a great rating to go on your record over a murder's feelings." You nodded, wincing as he slammed the door shut. You couldn't help but tear up, thinking about the hurt you'd bring him the next session. This could deeply affect your job and it will go on your record, but you couldn't stop the tears as you thought back to his pained eyes when he told you about his brother. How they fought, how he was so abusive; you would never want to put him through that kind of pain...

But you had to.

You decided against going home that night and being alone, instead of going to your parent's home. They both were more than happy to not only welcome you in for dinner but to stay the night. You tried dodging your father's asks about work and if you found someone to bring home to him yet. Your father always said that he was getting old and that he wished you'd date more, but your heart only hurt and thought of Jaebeom. "No, dad, there's no one, yet." You hid your disappointment and sadness as you wiped your eyes with a napkin as your father talked about having you meet someone he worked with son.

You had gotten to sneak away to the comfort of your room after helping clean the dishes and listening to your father continue to name eligible bachelors he knew. You fell back onto your old bed, wiping your face as you looked up at the ceiling, trying to figure out a way to ease into the conversation with Jaebeom when your mom knocked on the door, coming in with a small smile. She sat down at the edge of your bed as if to give you space. She held your hand as she helped you up, offering you a smile as she rubbed your hand. "Who is it, Y/N?" Your eyebrows furrowed as she laughed softly, mentioning the uninterested look you gave your father during his rant about finding you a man. You broke down, the feelings you kept bottled up coming crashing down as you fell into your mom's embrace, telling her everything. Meeting Jaebeom, the sexual moments, the ring; everything that you found meaningful about the two of you, you told your mom. She said nothing as you cried, patting your back and offering you her shoulder as you did. You appreciated your mom at that moment as she was able to listen well unlike your worrying father.

When you had regained your voice and emotions at that moment, your mom finally spoke. "Y/N. You're talking as if you've caught genuine feelings for him. Like you both have a connection I've always wanted you to have with someone. But, don't forget. You have to do your job not only because you must but for yourself. You have to know if this relationship is even feasible. You may love him, Y/N. Love is not blind – it sees more, not less. But because it sees more, it is willing to see less." You nodded, wiping your tears, stopping as you felt the cold ring come into contact with your face, almost as if his cold hands were comforting you as well. "You also need to figure out because if your father found out you fell in love with a murder then he would lose his lid"

You didn't need to see that.

You tossed and turned all night, thinking about what to say and how to say it as you only had one day to get in to either get a confession from him or to hear him plead his case. You needed to hear the truth; there was no more time to push it off.

You arrived at the prison a bit earlier the next morning to get more time with Jaebeom in, rushing the process as you wanted to hurry and get him into the room. You weren't lusting after him; you wanted the truth.

You hurriedly told the guard to bring him in, removing your scarf and paced the floor, your teeth fiddling with the ring he gave you. When he came in and the door shut, you both made no moves to one another. Your eyes looked down at his free hands and feet, not chained up and restricted. "Oh, since I've been on good behavior and since you kept suggesting that we do these meetings without them, they let me take them off" He smiled, your eyes going back to his happy and hopeful ones. He looked so much happier to not be in the chains and to be in the room with you. It made you wonder what he looked like in regular clothes as he walked the streets. You cut him off before he could say anything else, hugging him tightly, which startled him. You hadn't been so close to him with his clothes on since the first encounter in the hallway, your head resting on his shoulder as you continued to hug. His hands stayed in the air for a bit as he registered the hug, his hands then moving to wrap around you tightly as he returned the hug. That's how you both stood for a while, wrapped in each other's tight embrace.

"Something is going to happen to me... is that the reason you're hugging me?" You pulled back to cup his cheeks, your thumbs rubbing his cheeks as you both stared into each other's eyes. He let his hands move to your waist as you led him into a kiss, your lips molding with his like puzzle pieces. In your mind, this would be the last kiss with the image of him you had in your mind. The last kiss with your version on Lim Jaebeom.

You pulled back breathlessly, his lips trying to chase yours as you shook your head, pulling back and moving from his grasp. He let you as he touched his lips, his eyes filled with heartbreak and confusion. You moved behind your desk as you tried to not let your heartbreak show on your face as you checked the time, realizing how little time you both had left.

"Jaebeom. I need you to tell me if you committed that murder. If you don't you are going to be admitted here for the rest of your life and I will never visit you here or answer your calls ever again" You said in the sternest voice you could muster, his eyes widening as he realized the situation. He shuddered, trying to ask you questions but you cut him off as you begged him to tell you. "Jaebeom. I love you but you gotta tell me so I can go on dates with you, meet your cats and do all the things you love. In order for us to do this, you gotta tell me right now."

He sat down in the chair in front of your desk as he had done so many times before, running his hand over his face as he sighed. His hands rested on his head as he closed his eyes.

''My brother had asked me to come over to see him. At that moment, we weren't on speaking terms so I thought he was apologizing so I went over to his home. When I got inside, all the lights were off and the place was dark and I could smell pennies. I turned the living room light on to see his girlfriend on the floor dead. There was so much blood everywhere. He came from a connecting room and told me to help him clean up the body and when I refused because that's crazy he.."

Jaebeom paused as if he was holding back tears. You looked back at the time, telling him that you understood that he was in pain but he had to tell you everything in order to save himself.

He took another deep breath before continuing. "He yelled at me and tried hitting me with some bat or something. I started yelling and he hit me and I blacked out. The next thing I knew I woke up with cops arresting me, calling me a murder and my brother no where in sight."

The door busted open right as he finished, the prison owner coming in and calling for two guards to chain him up to be sent to the farther part of the prison where he could wait for death. Your eyes both filled with worry as you played his confession that you had recorded on your phone back to everyone, the room becoming silent as his voice played back from the audio. The prison owner scoffed kicking Jaebeom to his knees as he walked over to you, slamming his hand down onto the table, stopping the recording. "He's lying. There's no way he did it with a bat because the autopsy came back that-" "she died from multiple stab wounds" you both turned back to Jaebeom, who was now being held down on the floor by the guards. "My brother used to be a chef and owned many knives. My prints were on the bat because he placed mine on there, but there's no way it did it as the blood was older as she had been there for longer than I was laid next to her with a bat gash wound on my head." He grunted, your eyes widening.

"As he said, his brother was the one with many reports against him for abusing her, right? So why would Jaebeom all of a sudden kill her?" You asked, making the prison owner order the guards to get off of him. He stood him up, pinning him against the wall. "What are you saying, Jaebeom?" He spat, Jae's rolling his eyes as he cleared his throat. "My brother killed his girlfriend with one of his cooking knives, then hit me with the bat then left me for dead and to take the blame as he bailed. I mean, why would I kill her and then bash myself in the head at his house?"

The room became silent at his question, the beeping from your recorder being the only noise as the two men had a stare-off. "There, you got your confession. Now put him down" You said, putting your hand onto the prison owner's arm, urging for him to let Jaebeom down, who was still staring at you with almost ashamed eyes. He was let down, you rushing to offer him water as he coughed, the boss calling for his guards to call the local police department that handled the case to come to meet with him as soon as possible. You didn't care though, your eyes carefully scanning Jaebeom as he drank his water. He smiled at you, letting you know that he was alright.

You were in the room when the cops came and listened to his confession, taking him into another room for a poly test and more questions. You were instructed to go home as he was getting tested, not giving you the chance to say goodbye or check on him. You both made eye contact as you passed by the window, his eyes being drawn to yours before one of the testers put down a curtain, blocking your views of one another. You contemplated going into the room, but you knew that if you went into the room, it would expose you both and it could ruin your career. So, you went home.

You weren't called back to the prison to meet with Jaebeom, nor were you offered any updates. You contemplated every day doing back to check on him but you became so scared. What if he wasn't there anymore? What if no one believed him? You didn't think you could handle it, deciding to look for work elsewhere to take your mind off the situation. '

Off of Jaebeom.

You were offered a great job in a neighboring city in a mental health center, which you accepted. You had sold your home and had packed up and had your parents help you pack up and put your items into the car. Your dad asked if you wanted to take off the ring as you complained about how it hurt when the heavy boxes it against it, but you declined. It was the last thing you had of him and it reminded you of him. You had put your last box into the car when you did a last check on the house to make sure it was empty, memories filling every corner as you walked around. You smiled before joining your parents outside, listening to your mom yell at your dad for offering to buy a security camera for your next home. You laughed at your father, assuring him that you'd be fine as he scoffed. "At least this place sold fast. There seems to be someone already here to check out their home."

You turned to where your father was motioning to, your eyes widening.

In plain clothes and no chains stood Jaebeom. He smiled, getting off what you assumed was his car as he made his way up the driveway meeting you halfway as you rushed to meet him. You both shared no words, only staring at one another as if it was a dream and either one of you would disappear in that moment.

"Hello Miss Y/N L/N"

#got7 #got7 imagines #im jaebum #got7 jinyoung #got7 mark #got7 jackson #choi youngjae #got7 jaebum #im jaebum imagines #im jaebum x reader #got7 reactions #got7 smut #got7 reactions smut #got7 jayb #got7 jb

90 notes · View notes

goldencuffs · 4 years ago

Text

pen pal

Laurent starts writing emails to inmates in Marlas Penitentiary in his third year of university. The only reason he considers doing it at first is because of Auguste, who writes in one of his weekly emails in the middle of a long, sour summer: These emails help, you know. They keep me sane.

The sadness Laurent feels at reading that is immeasurable. He has to go for a run afterwards, because running is more productive than crying. If Laurent starts crying, he won’t do anything else for the rest of the day. Or week.

He keeps writing to Auguste every week, but as he does so, he feels like he could do more.

A few weeks later, Laurent tells Auguste about it over the phone. Laurent never lies, or keeps things from Auguste. The last time he did, he ruined Auguste’s life.

Auguste, as usual, sounds tired over the phone, his voice scratchy and low. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Laurent bites his lip, phone pressed against his cheek. He always makes his calls in his room, with the blinds drawn, the lights turned off, the door closed, so the room is washed in darkness. It’s the closest he’ll ever get to understanding how Auguste lives now. This is the only thing he doesn’t share with Auguste, because it would upset him deeply. Auguste always thinks he makes these calls in the open, with the sun beating down on him, the wind through his hair — the kind of life Auguste will never have.

Laurent is acquiescent. He says, “Okay.”

They talk about Laurent’s classes, the new neighbour who has really loud sex, and the cat Laurent is thinking of adopting. Auguste assures Laurent that he is eating and that no one has given him any trouble.

When the call ends, Laurent wants, desperately, to go out on a run. Talking to Auguste always does this to him; leaves him jittery, chest concaved, heart racing. The guilt swallows him. So Laurent punishes himself: he keeps himself locked into his room until the following morning.

Summer ends, but the heat in Marlas is relentless. Laurent and Auguste continue corresponding over email and phone, never talking about things that actually matter.

Laurent gets asked out on a date by Pierre, one of the men who lives in the neighbouring apartments. Laurent says no, and Pierre pushes him, hard, against the wall.

Laurent is left with a large bruise on his bicep. He’s fascinated by the colouring; the purple blends seamlessly in with the blue, which runs into the black. He can’t stop touching it all week, pressing his fingertips down on it until his eyes water.

Pierre is an affable man. He is always polite in the elevators, helps the elderly lady across the hall with her groceries and hosts barbeque parties in the communal area. He hadn’t seemed like the kind of man who couldn’t handle the word no. Then again, Uncle had been like that too.

On Friday, Laurent gets drunk for the first time in eight years.

The following day, he gets to talk to Auguste. Laurent is too hungover to hide his own despondence.

Auguste notices. Laurent doesn’t want to waste their ten minutes on something that will upset Auguste. He will eventually tell him; Laurent doesn’t like keeping secrets anymore.

As the call beeps, letting them know there’s only thirty seconds left, Auguste says. “Look, I’ve been thinking… I think it’d be nice if you sent some of the guys here some emails every now and then.”

Laurent perks up. “Really?”

“Yeah,” says Auguste, a smile in his voice. “But I’m going to send you a list of people, alright? I don’t want you emailing some creep.”

“Of course,” Laurent says, breathless. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love —” The line cuts off.

Auguste’s email drops in his inbox on Tuesday at eleven am, like clockwork. In it, he includes the names of other inmates that are reasonable, suitable. There are five names. Laurent request the email IDs of all of them and sets about writing.

He only gets two responses. One is from a man named Alexon, who says he isn’t interested in corresponding right now, and the other is from Ancel, who writes fuck of. Im not a cherity progect.

Laurent writes Ancel another email, assuring him he’s not a charity project, but that goes unanswered.

Auguste laughs — or Laurent assumes he does because his email says LOL! — when he tells him about it.

So, Laurent goes on the Marlas Penitentiary website. Underneath the How to contact loved ones tab, there’s a link that says: Become a Penpal! Change a life!

Laurent clicks on it.

There are, surprisingly, hundreds of inmates, all of their pictures shown in neat, square boxes, alongside their name, age, sexuality and religion.

Laurent scrolls through dozens of them. He makes note of the younger ones, the ones he might be able to carry a conversation with. He also filters his search to life sentence because Laurent doesn’t want to give someone the opportunity to demand to see him in a few months.

Near the end, Laurent sees him.

It’s hard not to be captivated by his photo. He’s one of the few people smiling in it, and it was obviously taken outside of prison. A large man with curly, styled hair and dark eyes grins at him, teeth white and straight, cheek dimpled. He’s wearing a suit, arms crossed over his chest, arms bulging, shoulders wide. Laurent has never seen someone so attractive in his life — didn’t think people in the real world could look like this, let alone end up in prison.

His profile says: Vallis, Damianos Theomedes. 27. Bisexual. I’m bored in here. I need to keep myself sane. Send me something if you can actually keep a conversation going. Thank you for taking the time to read through this. Sorry I don’t seem nicer. I used to be.

It’s definitely… different. Laurent marks him as a maybe.

Later, Laurent asks Auguste if he knows anyone called Damianos in Marlas. Auguste responds with a, “Nope. And I know pretty much everyone here. So that’s not a good sign.”

“Why not?”

“It either means the dude is a complete recluse, or that he’s barred from most communal activities. Like I said, not a good sign.”

But something about Damianos’ profile keeps Laurent intrigued for the next several days.

He isn’t sure what it is; the picture, of someone who once led an obviously lavish style, or Damianos’ words, I need to keep myself sane, an echo of Auguste’s sentiments. Also the Thank you had been unusual, as well as the I used to be nicer. Laurent used to be nicer, too.

Laurent ends up Googling Damianos’ full name that night.

There are about twenty articles to sift through. All of them detail a violent, horrific crime, where Damianos murdered his own brother in his penthouse.

But even that doesn’t deter Laurent. He remembers how the media, the court, the lawyers had presented Auguste: as someone vicious, cold and calculated, the complete antithesis of how Auguste really was.

The articles about Auguste had been eerily similar. All of them mentioned how shocking it was that a doctor at the top of his game could senselessly murder his own uncle, but very few of them mentioned why Auguste had done it.

They made it out like Auguste was some bloodthirsty maniac, bent on revenge, and not a caring, protective older brother who had been horrified by their Uncle’s actions.

It’s why Laurent decides to give Damianos the benefit of the doubt. If he does end up being a creep, or a weirdo, then Laurent has the luxury of never speaking to him again. He’s not being stupid about this.

His request is fulfilled two days later. Damianos’ email ID is attached at the bottom.

Laurent sends his first email that afternoon.

#captive prince #damen x laurent #pen pal au #i wrote this in an hour on the train forgive any mistakes #posting it now before i chicken out and forget about it lol #my writing #my fic

433 notes · View notes

mallowstep · 3 years ago

Text

(dark room, red light)

"Do you think we count as first generation college students?" Mothpaw asks, staring at the application.

"Feathertail's working on her degree," Hawkpaw says. "And Stormheart has one."

"Yeah, but — does that count?"

"Looking it up," Frogpaw calls. He's staring intently at his phone. "According to this, our biological parents are what matters."

None of them say anything.

* * *

They moved rooms as a tenth birthday present. Stormheart slept in Stonefur's room until the basement was done being finished for him and Shadepelt, and Frogpaw took his old room.

Mothpaw moved into what was nominally Feathertail's room. There were still fragments of her mother, in the curtain and sheet choices, but there was a layer of dust on everything, and nothing else to remove.

* * *

"You can still change your mind," Stonefur says. "I don't mind driving back."

Mothpaw twists the ring around her thumb. It was a gift from him a few years ago. "No," she decides. "I'm ready to do this."

Stonefur nods. Frogpaw came a few years ago, and Hawkpaw is preparing to make what he says will be a final trip. Stonefur squeezes her shoulder. "Let's head in, then."

She's not sure what she expects. They stare at each other for a long moment, and Mothpaw is acutely aware of the conversations happening beside them.

"It's nice to finally meet you," Tigerstar says.

Mothpaw hesitates. It's not nice to meet him, she doesn't think. She's not sure why she's here, except that in a few months, she'll be in a new place, and Stonefur's standing offer to drive her several hours will be gone.

"I hear you got into college. Majoring in — biology, was it?"

He knows that's wrong. "Pre-med." Mothpaw takes a deep breath. "It's an accelerated program."

Tigerstar smiles, like he is proud of her. "And — outside of school? What do you do?"

His eyes are the same colour as hers, she realizes. They're the same honey amber she sees in the mirror every morning.

"Not much. I've volunteered at a hospital for a while. And I've been taking classes at the community college."

She looks at her hands again. Tigerstar clears his throat. "Can I ask you a question, Mothpaw?"

She nods.

"Why now?"

It's harder to answer than she expected. He waits, looking at the space between him, as if he's trying to give her time. She fights for an answer that's not, Because I wanted to know I had taken the chance. Chance of what, she's not sure.

"I'm going pretty far for college," she settles on. "Running out of chances."

Tigerstar nods, like this all makes sense. "I'd love to continue our correspondence," he says, like she writes him back. "Send me your address, won't you?"

Mothpaw doesn't answer.

* * *

Freshman year, they all had to take a class in critical thinking and current events.

Each section would present, and then debate an issue in front of the whole grade at the end of the year. Mothpaw's group worked on some mundane policy change. She didn't really care if the city enforces stricter water usage rules on companies. Maybe she should.

Hawkpaw and Frogpaw were in the same class. Their teacher was young, contentious. They prepared for a debate about gun rights. Mothpaw thought that would be the hot button issue of the year.

"When should inmates on a life sentence be offered parole?" a student read.

Mothpaw shifted in her chair. Never, she thought.

The presentation was just an overview of the issue. The debate started with, "Should Tigerstar's request for parole be granted?"

Their teacher smiled from her position as the moderator.

"He's served fifteen years," the yes side began. "With excellent behaviour. Why not let him out?"

Leafpaw squeezed Mothpaw's hand.

"He would be released into the same community he hurt," the no side argued.

"He was a respected politician for years."

"He was proven guilty in a court of law."

"Why shouldn't he get a second chance?"

"From Mistyfoot's testimony, 'The night he was reelected.' And then, after a follow-up question, 'He told me that the election was why he was celebrating. And celebration meant we were all under scrutiny. He'd beat you for the slightest misstep.'"

"From Feathertail's testimony-"

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about!" Hawkpaw shouted. He stood, livid, his fist clenched.

"Hawkpaw," a teacher said.

"You don't get to drag her name in defence of him," he seethed. "This isn't some petty corporate dispute."

Someone took Hawkpaw outside. The teacher of the class indicated for them to continue.

"From Feathertail's testimony," the student from before continued, looking far more hesitant, "in response to the question, 'When did the night of the party happen?', she said 'over the summer,' which couldn't have been his reelection."

"There's still no reason to release him into this community."

The auditorium doors opened again. The same teacher who pulled Hawkpaw out flicked the lights. "Can I have Mothpaw and Frogpaw?"

Leafpaw gave her hand another squeeze, and Mothpaw grabbed her backpack.

"We're sorry about this," the teacher said. "We didn't realize a teacher would choose something like this. Hawkpaw is waiting in the office -- we still have to call your parents-"

"Mother," Frogpaw said. "You have to call our mother."

"We have to call your mother, then, about the incident, but I'm sorry no one warned you."

"It's not right," Mothpaw said. "Hawkpaw was -- you can't get him in trouble for this! This isn't -- they're debating people's lives," she said.

"Our lives," Frogpaw said. "They're going to stand up there and debate whether we should have to-" His voice cut out.

"It's protocol," the teacher said. "The two of you can wait in the office for the rest of this section's debate."

* * *

Leafpaw slips notes into Mothpaw's locker. It's the only reason she bothers opening it.

lunch at 1 tmrw? is received on a Friday afternoon. Mothpaw answers it with a kiss on Leafpaw's cheek.

* * *

Leafpaw started spending her afternoons at Mothpaw's house in seventh or eighth grade.

"Squirrelpaw's at field hockey practice, and the house is just so lonely," she complained, until Mothpaw finally just asked Feathertail if Leafpaw could come over.

"Of course she can," Feathertail said. "Is she staying for dinner?"

But having Leafpaw in her house for the first time felt strange. They were school friends, or they spent weekend days at Leafpaw's house, or they met for a movie.

Stormheart joked about how they really did need the minivan, and Leafpaw flipped through her list of assignments. When they got to the house, Mothpaw dragged Leafpaw through a tour by the hand.

"Sorry about the whole row of photos," Mothpaw said. "Stonefur's a little obsessed."

Leafpaw giggled. It still felt weird, to have Leafpaw sitting between Mothpaw and Stormheart, to see her converse next to Mothpaw's flats and Frogpaw's sneakers, but it felt right at the same time.

* * *

"It's a strange thing," Mothpaw says, delivering a valedictorian speech, "to leave behind all you have ever known. We are all moving onto our own paths, now. Some of those paths might look similar to where we are now, but some of them won't."

She smiles at her family watching her.

"But we've all been on the same path for a while. And I think most of you-"

She faces her class for a moment, mostly to train her eyes on Leafpaw.

"I have to face forward, or the mic won't pick me up," she says, raising more laughter than she expected. "But I think most of you are thinking of all the worst moments here, and how excited you are to leave it behind. Maybe not. I think I'm allowed to say that I am."

A few more laughs this time.

"Freshman year, end of the year debates. I'm pretty sure that's on a lot of lists. When the lights in the bathroom on the third floor kept turning off too soon sophomore year. Our bus running out of gas coming home from a field trip. But we've all gone through that together."

Mothpaw takes a breath. "We've been through all of that together, and that time is ending. In a few months, I'll be apart from my brothers for the first time, and I'm not sure if I'm thrilled or terrified. And I'm supposed to have a moral, a theme, a key point, but I don't, not really. I hope we all do well. I hope we are all happy."

#misty au #human misty au #mine #mothwing is just a good pov to write from #also writing speeches is stressful

15 notes · View notes

cyhyr · 3 years ago

Text

Whumpmas In July: "I Can't"

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: E

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka; Mizuki/Umino Iruka

WC: ~4990

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con

Notes: Deception, Drugging, Prison Break, Dissociation, Rough Oral Sex, Conditioning, Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Character Death, Triggers, Hair-pulling, Violence, Kidnapping

A/N: This story follows a Non-Linear Narrative, for the most part.

A sequel to “Secret”

For @whumpmasinjuly prompt list

Read on The Archive

The day Umino Iruka walked into the clinic seeking therapy was the day Rikona changed her plans to fit her new narrative. Sure, she’d been next and available to take patients, standing right at the check-in desk as he filled out his paperwork; and normally, there was a day or two in-between registration and the first session, just so the team of psychiatrists and therapists could best review the potential case and match the best team with the patient. But none of that mattered. She was going to take Umino Iruka, and as soon as he finished filing his intake forms, she took the thin folder right out of Aiko’s hands.

“Right this way, Umino-sensei.”

“I prefer to be addressed with my given name,” he said on the walk to her office.

“Of course, Iruka-sensei. I’m Rikona.”

It’s so simple to establish a baseline with Umino. He wants to tell someone about his story, he wants to get better, but he doesn’t have the words for it and he doesn't know how to get there. She gently prompts him along, learning his past and keeping him from dissociating—she finds out in the first session that good is not a word Iruka can hear in certain contexts. She discovers trauma hidden in every corner of his life, coloring every interaction he’s had since he was eleven. She hears about Naruto and how Iruka’s as good as adopted him, even if the village won’t let it be official; and about Kakashi, the partner who suggested Iruka seek out counseling, yet forgoes his own mental health.

Really, it’s not hard to understand him.

So they have a couple of sessions and it’s working well. She’s getting to know him, while at the same time getting him to trust her and tell her more about his story.

But after only a few sessions, he is captured and tortured and she has to make a hospital visit when he's inevitably brought home—by none other than Hatake Kakashi. And of course, Hatake doesn’t leave his side throughout the hospital stay except for required psychiatric consults. Umino comes out the other side of his captivity with minor injuries and almost no backslide on his mental health progress.

Rikona gives herself much of the credit for that. To Hatake, she initially gives a modicum of a nod; he’s certainly present.

Iruka trips for the third time in almost as many minutes, and puts a palm to his temple. “Rikona-sensei, is there somewhere I can sit down for a moment?”

She looks back at him, brows raised. “Another dizzy spell?”

He nods.

Rikona leads him to a bench and lets him sit, guiding his head to rest in his palms, his elbows braced on his thighs. She had said that they were going to go straight to the Hokage Tower, but the hospital never felt this far away before. It feels like he’s been walking for over an hour.

“How much longer to the Tower?” he asks.

“Not too much,” she says. “Ten minutes.”

That. That doesn't sound right. The hospital is only a fifteen minute walk from the Tower. Why have they been walking for so long?

He lifts his head and looks around, but the wooded park they’re in looks like any other in Konoha. “Rikona-sensei, why are we in a park?”

“You asked for a little time to make sure the medication I gave you is in full effect before speaking to Tsunade-sama,” Rikona answers quickly. “Do you not remember?”

The world is still spinning. He carefully shakes his head before putting his head back down. “Are these dizzy spells also a side-effect?”

“Unfortunately, yes. You may have to just power through them.”

Iruka groans. “Okay, let’s keep going, then.”

Rikona offers her hand to help him stand, and her elbow to keep him steady as they walk.

The trees go by.

The sounds of the village fade away.

And then they find out that the Sato event traumatized Hatake. And honestly? She kept her cool in the meeting, but that night when she’s home, she has herself a good laugh. The man went and got himself traumatized over someone who he’s been manipulating for months, if not years? She’s not heard of a successful Reverse Stockholm syndrome; it’s hilarious.

But she also harbors a deep-set anger because it was under Hatake’s watch that Umino went and took that mission—he’s not an active field agent, shouldn’t be in the field, it should have never happened. It was under Hatake’s watch that the Sato incident occurred.

And then Umino talks about moving. And Rikona knows. This is the time. He’s asking for her advice, blushing as he talks about someday asking Hatake to move in together. But Hatake’s influence has been nothing positive and she knows exactly who Umino should be seeing instead.

She knows because she’s been covering for his usual therapist for over seven months and she’s a professional. She knows how to recognize abusers, manipulators. She can form an emotional connection with a carrot if it needs therapy—she’s good.

So when Mizuki tells her about his old boyfriend, this wonderful man he misses so dearly, who has never once visited him in prison; Rikona resolves to be the one to help this man, her patient, receive closure at the least—or reunite long lost lovers at best.

She knows she’s making the right decision. She knows Mizuki is good for Iruka. She knows because when she told him about what happened to Umino, she could hear his heart break.

“That’s why I never let Iruka take missions without me, see? Because I knew things like this could happen, and I care about him—Rikona, I care so very much—I could never have forgiven myself if something like this had happened to him while we were together.”

And no one can fake that tone, those heart-wrenching sobs, the tears, oh gods the tears.

Together they make a plan. And she’s so happy to help him, so happy that she’s essential to his reunion with Umino. Mizuki says it himself; without her, the plan could never be implemented. She even lets him write the first letter, so Umino can hear his words straight from his own hand.

And on her way out of the prison that day, she grabs a few forms, and some extra envelopes, and if one happens to be a request for a conjugal visit, well… Mizuki’s been alone for so long. The least Umino can do is reconsider.

...

(She didn’t know what that first letter said until Iruka-sensei brought it to her office, feeling like he could dissociate at any moment and experiencing a moderate anxiety attack. When she read it, she felt a sting of doubt, like maybe Mizuki wasn’t how she’d diagnosed him. But then she remembers Hatake, and how Mizuki says he changes things to fit his stories; and she realizes that this note must have been tampered with before it reached Iruka-sensei.)

The prison break for one goes like this.

It starts seven months prior, with the head psychiatrist for the hospital getting swamped with paperwork and a sudden flood of new patients, and it’s only her, Rikona, and one other therapist working the clinic lately. Tomi-sensei asks—practically begs—Rikona to take her prison shift on Fridays, that they’ll shut down the clinic except for emergencies. It’s only until further notice, only until Tomi-sensei can hire another psychiatrist, or at least another therapist.

When Rikona gets to the prison, the guard is wary at first—she'd already been there that week—but after a quick explanation he waves her through. She's been treating inmates in the East Wing for months prior, so she knows her way through security. But Tomi-sensei treats inmates in the West Wing. Three inmates, specifically.

The first she sees for an hour and a half. The first half hour is talk therapy, the last hour she oversees his electroconvulsive therapy. The second receives a cocktail of anti-psychotics, mood stabilizers, a tranquilizer, and extra medicine to help with the side-effects of all these. Then, Rikona sits with them and talks for an hour. After that, she breaks for lunch. Finally, the third inmate of the West Wing; who receives one large dose of a mood stabilizer, and two hours of therapy.

Two hours a week, for seven months. Sometimes she stays later if the story he’s telling is particularly riveting, and she thinks that his telling of the story will help him.

But at the end of the day, she signs off on all three patients, carefully writing Tomi-sensei’s name in place of her own. Tomi trusts her judgement, and her conscience is clear. All three patients are steadily improving, some at slower paces, but improvement nonetheless. Rikona bills the hours in her own name, though; Tomi can take the credit for their health, but she needs to pay her mortgage.

So it’s easy to check out one of the East Wing prisoners for electroconvulsive therapy that Monday when she heads in. And she’s been working in the prison for years, so security knows her, and the East Wing prisoners are minimum security risks anyway—Rikona, thin and small as she is, picks an old woman to lead to therapy. And if the room for electroconvulsive therapy is in the West Wing, well security knows that Rikona knows her way around there, too.

The old woman is feeble, slow, gentle. The prison system broke her years ago. The poor thing doesn’t need to be shocked into submission. That’s not why Rikona brought her along.

There’s a seal she knows—the only advanced bit of chakra use she ever learned, before she determined that the shinobi way wasn’t her way—which can render a person invisible for a short time. She knows that the loss of his ability to mold chakra is very hard on Mizuki, and so when she leads the old woman into his cell and gives him the premade seal, she returns the grin he gives her.

“It’s time,” she says.

“You have him?”

“He’s all yours, Mizuki. You just have to promise to be careful. Whatever’s been done, he’s—”

“Rikona-sensei, I could never hurt him.” She presses the tag to his chest and he disappears.

She closes the door to the cell, leaving the woman in there alone, and walks away.

Confidently, she strides through the halls of the prison. She waves to the security personnel she knows. And then she gets back to the woman’s cell, and pushes another tag onto it—one to keep the door locked for good. They won’t be realizing that she’s gone for hours, if not days. They only use the flap at the bottom of the door to push her meals inside, and the tag leaves that part alone, she makes sure of it.

She toes it, just a little, just to be sure. It sways.

Rikona walks out the front doors, Mizuki a silent, invisible presence behind her.

Does she feel bad for lying to her client?

Gods, yes.

But it’s for his own good.

Hatake is a terrible, manipulative elitist. He doesn’t deserve someone like Iruka-sensei.

They’re five minutes from her home, a wooden cabin she maintains deep in the forests outside of the village. It’s there that the medication takes full effect and Iruka-sensei collapses. She’s so much smaller than him, and he’s heavier than he looks, but she pulls him onto her back and drags his feet along the ground and up the stone steps and into the house.

She’s careful, laying him down on the rug in front of the fireplace. It’s warm, so she doesn’t feel the need to start a fire. He’ll stay unconscious for a few hours, just until after sunset. She puts a blanket within reach, just in case he wakes up before they get back.

And then she leaves to collect Mizuki.

Kakashi doesn’t know how to explain it.

But something’s wrong.

There’s an odd scent in the air.

He had been heading to Iruka’s house, but he sighs and turns around to head back to the Tower. He’s still not going to take that mission, but he needs to talk to Tsunade.

Rikona watches as Mizuki strokes Iruka’s face tenderly. She’s making dinner in the kitchen and they’re laying side-by-side on the rug in front of the fireplace, now lit and warming the cabin. Her heart swells to see them together again after all this time, and she hopes that Hatake hasn’t poisoned Iruka-sensei’s memories so much that he can’t remember the good times he had with Mizuki.

They look good together.

Iruka-sensei hasn’t woken up yet, but she checked his vitals when they came back and he’s coming back to himself. They had pulled his vest and weapons off of him and set them on the couch once they got back, so he could lay more comfortably. He should wake any minute.

“A bad feeling?”

“A bad scent.”

“Like an intruder?”

“I don’t know. Very likely.”

Tsunade steeples her fingers. “Track it. Do not engage. Report back.”

Kakashi nods and turns to leave.

“It could be Akatsuki,” she warns. “Be careful.”

Kakashi is gone as soon as she finishes her sentence.

This isn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want to be a part of this. This isn’t love.

Rikona can’t believe she was so thoroughly duped.

The pack at large doesn’t know the scent he’s trying to convey to them. All he can say to describe it is wrong and bad and that can describe any fucker who hits their partner or child, or any stall vendor who deliberately raises their prices for a certain kind of person, or—

“The ripe, rancid one?” Pakkun asks, growling.

And those are the words he’s been searching for, yes. The rest of the pack catches that same scent and readies themselves.

“That’s the one. What is it?”

“That’s the prisoner Iruka-Boss fought a while back, when the prison had that major breakout.”

Kakashi’s stomach flips and his spine chills.

Mizuki.

“You’re awake.”

Mizuki puts his hand over Iruka’s mouth to keep him from crying out, leans over and whispers in his ear, “You could never get away from me, don’t start trying now.” The tears glistening in the corners of his eyes shimmer in the firelight and he looks beautiful when he cries. Mizuki dips his head and kisses Iruka’s neck, relishing the whimper he receives.

He removes his hand, knowing he has Iruka’s obedience.

“You’re not real,” he mutters. “This isn’t real. It’s-It’s a side-effect. Of the m-medication.”

“Oh, baby, this isn’t a dream,” Mizuki lifts himself to hover over Iruka, pressing the length of his body along the tan one on the floor. “I’m here. I’m here to stay.” He shoves his knees in-between Iruka’s thighs and rolls his hips. “Hmm, missed this. Missed you. Did you miss me, too, baby?”

“Get off,” Iruka hisses.

Mizuki grins and presses his teeth to Iruka’s neck. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Kakashi sends half of the pack to find Iruka, and the rest follow Mizuki’s scent.

He goes to the prison; he needs to check himself. He needs Pakkun to be wrong.

The security personnel confirm that prisoner 834-769 is in his cell. Been there all morning. There’s no log of him being taken out. Kakashi doesn’t growl, but asks if someone can go down to the cell and give him visual confirmation.

“Chakra confirmation is sufficient when there’s no cause for alarm,” he’s told.

Chakra confirmation???

“The fucker has no ability to mold chakra! And there is cause for alarm,” he grits through his teeth. “My pack caught his scent outside. I need visual confirmation of his presence in his cell now.”

Security at least pretends to take him seriously. They send a team down to the West Wing and Kakashi considers following them.

And then a bone-chilling howl echoes outside, and Kakashi doesn’t care about visual confirmation. Because the howl is the one that says scent lost and it’s coming from Bull’s half of the pack, the half that’s supposed to find Iruka—

And if they lost his scent—

Kakashi bolts.

Rikona leaves them to reacquaint in the living room. She steps outside. The stew will be alright on its low heat, and the rice still has plenty of time left to steam.

The stars are nice. The moon is waning from full, and she pulls a throw blanket tighter around her shoulders. In the distance, she can hear wolves howling and smiles softly.

It’s such a nice night.

He can’t explain it. He doesn’t stop to try, to tell an ANBU patrol what he’s doing, or to find Gai or anyone else.

The look on the security guard’s face was enough. No one will believe him if he tells them that Mizuki has something to do with Iruka’s disappearance. Hell, no one will likely believe him if he tells them that Iruka’s missing. After the Sato incident—and his reaction afterwards; he can admit that he was being a little overprotective—no one will take him seriously.

Kakashi has to do this by instinct. He has the pack flanking him, leading him along the ripe, rancid scent. They understand without him explaining, thank the gods.

Iruka is pack. This knowledge is as an intrinsic part of him as his family name, as chidori, as his loyalty to Konoha. More than this, the deeper part of him recognizes Iruka as his and recognizes the reciprocal possession Iruka holds on his very being.

Whether he knows it or not, Iruka owns him.

Boss’s Boss, indeed.

Mizuki hears the door shut behind Rikona as she leaves. He puts his mouth over Iruka’s, and when his lips won’t part he pulls on Iruka’s hair knowing that it will force a gasp as well as remind Iruka whose he is. He pushes his tongue into Iruka’s mouth when it opens and rolls his hips faster. With his other hand—the one not busy with the hair—he reaches to his crotch and pulls down the front of his prison pants and frees his dick. He fights with Iruka’s pants, and then lowers those too and eventually grabs both of them together in his fist.

Iruka’s limp. That’s fine. He’s used to working with that.

Iruka winces into their kiss, muttering, “Stop.”

“None of that. You know better.”

Iruka turns away. “I said, stop.”

Mizuki lets go of his own dick and pinches Iruka’s, watching him wince and hold back tears and bite his bottom lip.

“You know I don’t like that word. You don’t get to tell me to stop.” He grabs them both and strokes. “There, isn’t that better?”

“No, please—I can’t—I don’t want—”

Mizuki pulls his hair harder, twists his fist in the strands, and Iruka relaxes and his eyes turn glassy and there he goes. Mizuki grins, bites at Iruka’s mouth, and says, “Beg me to touch you.”

The response comes like the last two and a half years never happened. “Touch me,” Iruka murmurs.

“Tell me you missed me.”

“Missed you, ‘Zuki.”

“Aww, baby. Don’t worry. I’ll make you feel good.”

Kakashi runs through the forest behind the hospital and another sinking feeling hits his belly.

Rikona-sensei was supposed to be in charge of Iruka’s care.

But if Iruka’s missing.

Where’s Rikona-sensei?

“Pakkun.”

“Boss.”

“You know Iruka’s therapist?”

“Yeah. She went this way, too.”

Mizuki took them both. Fuck.

“Want to suck my cock, baby?”

Iruka comes back, just for a moment, just long enough to get the n sound of his answer. Mizuki tugs his hair again—training Iruka to become his personal little slut at the pull of his hair was the most brilliant idea Mizuki had ever had; he pats his own back every day he remembers the time he spent on it. And, damn it took time. Iruka never liked having his hair pulled, so the pain and the sex and his never-ending desire to please Mizuki combined together to make a perfect storm. And it still took months, almost a year, of hair-pulling and ordering Iruka around to condition him into the perfect whore.

And now, thanks to Rikona, he’s got that back.

He pulls himself up to the couch and sits, slides his pants to his thighs, and guides Iruka into position over his cock. There’s still tears on his lashes, and that’s just fucking perfect.

Mizuki’s been using his hand for over a year, and Tsubaki’s cunt before that.

Nothing compares to Iruka’s throat.

“Oh, good boy,” he groans as Iruka slides down over him. It’s tight, hot, wet—perfect—he put so much work into training this slut to take him and blow him right and two years isn’t enough time for Iruka to forget it seems, because he gets to slurping and tonguing and bobbing his head like he never left Mizuki’s legs.

Rikona stops in the doorway, blinking.

Iruka-sensei has dissociated. Mizuki seems to be aware of this, yet isn’t trying to get him to come back. In fact, he’s using Iruka-sensei’s mouth as-as—

She turns and goes back outside, closing the door quietly behind her.

She looks up at the night sky and suddenly the stars don’t feel so relaxing.

“My sweet, good boy, sucking me soo good. Look at you. Right where you belong.”

He remembers what he’s heard about Hatake from Rikona. What a joke. “As if blowing someone else could ever change who owns you.”

Iruka whimpers. Gods that sound fucking drives him crazy.

“Who owns you, baby?”

Iruka pulls off of him, just enough. “You, Mizuki.”

“Fuck, missed this.” He pushes Iruka back down, hits the back of his throat and keeps going. He takes Iruka’s hair in both hands and moves his head for him; Iruka isn’t going fast enough to get him off. This way, though, “You’re mine, baby. So good. Mine, mine, mine—FUCK!”

He shoots down Iruka’s throat.

The first time they did this, Iruka had spat it out. Mizuki made sure he never did that again. He knows that Iruka throws up later, once he comes back to himself; but whatever. Right now, he’s swallowing down Mizuki’s come, his throat working his pulsing cock and it feels great. He pulls back near the end of his orgasm, and lets the last pulses of come splash on Iruka’s lips and chin, watching it drip down his neck.

The tears are falling freely, but Iruka will stay on his knees until Mizuki tells him to get up. Fucking beautiful.

Why would Mizuki take both of them?

It doesn’t make sense.

Iruka, obviously. Mizuki’s had it out for Iruka since they were twelve, if not younger.

But why Rikona-sensei? If nothing else, he should have killed her. They should have found a body.

They still haven’t picked up on Iruka’s scent. There’s a third scent, but it’s muddled and weird and Kakashi can’t place it.

“Boss.”

“Akino.”

“Smoke, up ahead.”

“That’s where they are.”

He knows it in his bones. In his soul. He’d bet his life on it.

… He’s also betting Iruka’s life on it. The pack is already at top speed, but for this last sprint they all push just a little more.

Rikona walks off the porch and down the path. She’s reviewing the last four months of therapy sessions with Iruka-sensei in her head, and the last seven months with Mizuki, wondering where she went wrong. She hugs her arms tight to her body and watches her feet.

Hatake-san is an elitist. A genius, gifted child who advanced through the ranks too quickly and thinks too highly of himself. He’s Friend-Killer Kakashi, known for leaving a teammate for dead, for putting his own fist through the girl who loved him for the sake of a mission. He’s manipulative, and known for reading porn in public, and tampers with his partner’s mail, and-and-and—

She’s reaching.

She knows she’s reaching.

Oh gods, what has she done.

Kakashi watches Rikona stop on the path and begin to shake. He slides out of the tree silently beside her, and says, “Yo, Rikona-sensei.”

She gasps, startled. “Hatake—”

“Where’s Iruka?”

She points to the cabin behind her. “Please, I didn’t know. He lied to me.”

“Hmm?”

“He told me you were bad for him. He told me that he missed Iruka-sensei. He cried when I told him about Sato.” Rikona bites her lip. “How did he fake that? Did he fake that?”

“I’ll deal with you later.”

“I’ll turn myself in.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Kakashi says. He glares at her, exposing the sharingan for full threat. “If he’s hurt, you get hurt.”

“We should go to Water Country,” Mizuki sighs, slipping his dick back into Iruka’s mouth. “They’ve got good clubs out there. I could make a lot of coin selling the use of your throat.”

Iruka’s so far gone, so far down, he doesn’t even react.

“And with the ocean and all, your vomiting won’t be so off-putting each night.”

The door breaks open and a pack of mutts crash through the windows around him. Mizuki pulls out of Iruka’s mouth, reaches in Iruka’s weapon pouch beside him for a kunai. He may not have the ability to mold chakra anymore, but that doesn’t change how well a blade can slice through the delicate life beating in a person’s neck. Mizuki pulls Iruka to his lap and has him cover his body, pressing the kunai under his jaw.

“I wouldn’t,” he warns. Hatake stalks into view, coming around the couch. “I promise, I’ll kill him faster than you or your mutts can get to me.”

One hand on the kunai, the other around Iruka’s waist. He doesn’t even need to keep a hand in his hair now. Iruka’s his.

He put in the time.

He put in the effort.

He built Iruka.

He sneers at Hatake. “You and your mutts can leave.”

“Not without him.”

“Iruka? Tell Hatake to leave.”

“Please leave, Hatake-san.”

Oh, that was good. Like he was slapped, Hatake flinches; just barely, but Mizuki catches it. That was nice. Worth a reward.

“Good boy, baby,” Mizuki purrs. He bites Iruka’s shoulder, relishing the soft whimper.

He’s under. He’s so far under and Kakashi has to be careful or he won’t get Iruka back.

This wasn’t a warning Rikona gave him; that came from Tomi-sensei a few weeks back, when she heard about one of the dissociation episodes he’d experienced during the Sato incident. He can’t trust anything Rikona has ever told him now, but Tomi-sensei never had a hand in Iruka’s care and so is objective.

He motions for the pack to stand down.

“Actually, I changed my mind,” Mizuki says. “Don’t leave. Just stay still.”

He takes the kunai away from Iruka’s neck and aims it at Kakashi.

He won’t hit him; Kakashi’s faster than anything he can throw. This is perfect. This is his chance.

He just has to be careful.

Iruka could still not come back if he’s not careful.

The bite of a blade against his neck is odd, but familiar. The slosh of come in his stomach is uncomfortable, but familiar. The taste of musk and come on his tongue is gross, but familiar.

Mizuki’s rumble against his back is nice and familiar.

Slipping into following Mizuki’s orders is simple. It’s easy.

The pain of his hair being pulled. The claustrophobic sensation of being boxed in as Mizuki hovers over him. Their bodies pressed together. His dick—pain—being stroked alongside Mizuki’s own length. It’s all familiar.

Falling is easy.

He can’t. He can’t handle being there anymore.

And then—

“Don’t move. Just stay still.”

The blade leaves his neck, and Iruka tracks it as Mizuki levels it at—

At—

Kakashi—

“Just sleep, dearest.”

“Please, Iruka, I wanna touch you please.”

“I like asking.”

“Please kiss me.”

“Hello, Love.”

“What do you need?”

“I will always come for you.”

“I will be wherever you want me to be.”

“Hello, Love.”

“Can I use the g-word tonight?”

“Hello, Love.”

And Iruka wakes up.

He reaches for the kunai out in front of him, disarms Mizuki and stands up out of his lap. He fights the vertigo, fights the chills chasing each other down his back and his arms.

He remembers the day he came home to Mizuki and Naruto, and how he put two kunai in him before kicking him out. He remembers the rage, seeing Naruto pull away from Mizuki like hot coals, remembers sending Naruto to hide in his own room because they had been in Naruto’s room; there was still a small blood stain on the floor of that apartment when he left, one he couldn’t clean up in time.

Mizuki can fuck with him all he’d like.

But he can’t fuck with Iruka’s family.

And maybe Mizuki couldn’t hit Kakashi with a kunai if he were point-blank. Maybe a thousand kunai couldn’t hit Kakashi if Mizuki were the one throwing them. It doesn’t matter.

Iruka’s been teaching Anatomy of a Kill and running disarming practicals for years. They can call him soft, and say his humanity is a weakness or a strength. He preaches the Will of Fire and he burns with it; he will protect that which is precious to him.

Naruto.

His own sanity.

Kakashi.

Whether or not it needs protecting, Iruka will be the shield.

He plunges the kunai into Mizuki’s chest, drags it through heart and liver, snapping ribs and muscle tissue as he goes, and settles the blade in Mizuki’s intestines. He stands over Mizuki as the life leaves his chest, gushing red and bloodying Iruka’s hands and clothes.

Mizuki’s eyes are dark with betrayal.

He whispers, “I will always own you.”

And then… and then he’s gone.

And Iruka breathes.

Gods.

I’m… I’m free.

#whumpmasinjuly #i can't #umino iruka #hatake kakashi #kakairu #my writing

14 notes · View notes

the-scarecrxw · 4 years ago

Note

📓 :D

okay <3 I'm very fond of The Boys Retiring apparently but I have this one fic that I've just barely started but it's probably gonna be long.

So au Jeremiah going crazy plotline never happens. it's just chaos of chaos' sake. Rome still gets shot and is out of the picture for awhile. Jonathan and Jervis are up to no good until Jervis gets arrested (Jonathan very rudely does not give a fuck and doesn't help him) then like a week later Jerome emerges and together they cause chaos.

After a seemingly only Jerome attack on the gcpd (jim voice: that knockout gas hasn't been identified, tho. could be Crane.) Jim and Harvey are searching around the gcpd for any stragglers of Jerome's followers and such and whoops they check an alley and completely interrupt Jerome and Jonathan's post mission adrenaline rush bang and after some awkward back and forth (and Rome admitting he tossed his gun the moment he saw Jon) Jim is like "fuckin idiots. please cuff yourselves."

As they're leading them away Harvey makes a snide comment calling them freaks (bc Jerome made a joke about handcuffing Jonathan) and Jonathan does Not take it well and promptly elbows him and bolts, and Jerome quickly follows. Jim and Harvey take fire but the boys are able to duck out of the alley unscathed.

or so it seemed. Jerome looks back to not see Jonathan. He of course immediately turns back and oh god Jonathan is on the ground and there's blood and Jerome is panicking and getting angry because and Jim Fucking Gordon shot his boyfriend in the lung and hes probably dying.

this got long whoops one sec

Jim. feels very bad. he has very much so always felt bad about Jonathan. he always thought if he'd been quicker he could have saved him from his dad's serum. if he payed more attention to his case afterwards he wouldn't have gotten sent to Arkham. Abused there. Wouldn't have become Scarecrow. And now he just shot him. he's just a kid, really. barely 18.

Jim of course is like "okay, be mad later and help me stabilize him. get him on his side, put lots of pressure." in the bg Harvey is calling an ambulance and a patrol car to take Jerome to the precinct. Jerome very fiercely fights that he's not leaving Jonathan, who at this point is very out of it. So out of it that Jerome is very concerned and Jim is like "uhh yeah he's in shock because his lung just collapsed" and Jerome is like👌this close to strangling Jim but that would mean taking pressure off of Jonathan's wound.

Patrol car is there, ambulance another few minutes out. Officer switches places with Jim so he can take Jerome to the precinct [AND THIS IS WHERE I LEFT OFF WRITING SO FAR] but Jerome is still refusing but he eventually manages to pull him away (Harvey replaces him to apply pressure) While they're driving to the precinct Jim awkwardly tries to reassure him that Jonathan will be okay, the operation to help him rarely has complications. Jerome doesn't respond and Jim just... politely pretends he doesn't hear Jerome biting back sobs.

They keep Jerome in one of the interrogation rooms while Jim ya know washes all this blood off himself (Jerome is still covered in it) I haven't thought much about this portion of the fic, it's moreso time filler for until Jonathan gets out of surgery. Probably just gonna be Jerome refusing to talk to anyone until he can see Jonathan. Eventually Jim gets a call from Harvey that Jonathan is out of surgery, stable, and just waking from anesthesia so it would be the perfect time to interrogate him and Jim reluctantly agrees.

Jim, though, does have a heart and informs Jerome of the news and he immediately flips and demands to see him but Jim keeps refusing until Jerome yells "I'll stay in Arkham peacefully for the rest of my life if I can just get some time with him!" Jim reluctantly agrees (and helps clean him up bc they're not gonna bring him in covered in blood)

When they arrive Harvey has already been questioning him for a bit but it hasn't gone far bc Jon is still loopy and very good at avoiding questions. The moment he sees Jerome he tries to get out of bed except he's been quite literally strapped down to it so that doesn't go well. Harvey steps back and lets Jerome sit by Jon

We get very soft times from the pov of the awkward observers. Rome holds Jon's hand, occasionally strokes his face and hair and kisses his cheek while they're quietly talking and it's all very sweet and so incredibly uncharacteristic from what they're used to seeing from. well. maniacs.

As Jon really starts to get more lucid it's clear he's not comfortable being strapped down at all, he's constantly testing the straps and squirming and Jerome starts to unstrap him but Jim is quick to protest, saying he has to stay in bed and they can't risk him trying to escape while injured and Jerome snaps "he's not going to escape! he's going to stay and cooperate. He just doesn't like the straps. They did that to him in Arkham." Jim lets Jerome finish unstrapping him. they talk quietly some more for a bit before Harvey interrupts like "hey we really got to uh. talk and shit." and they both agree so the four of them sit there and after a moment of silence Jerome goes

"I'll agree to go to Arkham and stay if Jonathan can be pardoned. Blame it on temporary insanity-- something. Anything to keep him from going back there. He can function in society-- he can." Jonathan reluctantly nods and agrees

"Arkham tried giving me a medication. it quieted the Scarecrow. made it easier to ignore his suggestions and the urges he would give me. I refused to take them... But I'll take them now. If I can visit Jerome in Arkham."

Jim and Harvey of course initially protest but Rome and Jon make a really good argument. It's clear the arrangement was something they'd talked about before, but was still painful to enact. They clung to each other's hands, shaking. They didn't like the idea of being seperated. Being together kept them sane but Jerome refused to have Jonathan go back to Arkham. it had been a long argument and a lot of convincing before Jonathan agreed to the plan of Jerome going to Arkham alone.

So.... it happens. There's an actual trial this time (bc Negotiations) Jonathan is still too hurt to attend in person so lawyer in his stead and such. Jonathan watches the news with tears in his eyes in his hospital room as they get everything they planned. As Jerome gets carted off past a jeering crowd into an Arkham inmate transfer van.

I don't have much past this point. I imagine part of the deal has Jonathan being some sort of city/state ward for awhile? he's technically an adult but he'd been in basically prison since 15, so he has help getting set back up. I imagine a filler chapter of a Very Mundane Day of Jonathan's life.

Wakes up in his shitty little apartment. takes his morning meds. has a shitty poptart breakfast (he never really liked them until Jerome introduced him to the cookies and cream flavor) Goes to some classes (he's learning psychology...) where he pretends to be a normal person. Works after school (he's a library assistant.) Gets home and ponders if he needs glasses (glasses jonathan supremacy.) Has a shitty dinner while he emails his court ordered therapist that yes he is doing perfectly fine (that's a lie) no he doesn't need to see him this week, that panicked email in the middle of the night was absolutely nothing. Takes his night meds. Does homework or studies until he passes out. Rinse and Repeat until Saturday.

Saturday is his one good day. That's his Jerome day. His therapist notes an immediate uptick in his mood on Saturdays for approximately 4 days until it rapidly drops to concerning levels. Seeing Jerome sort of... Resets him. Cant quite say happy, how can you be happy when you can only see the love of your life your boyfriend for two hours once a week? For a long time they weren't allowed to touch, Jerome was handcuffed to the table. Now they hold hands his entire visit and sit close enough to whisper to each other softly, and they try to sneak kisses when the guard looks away for a moment.

Jerome's therapist notes his mood stabilizes on Fridays and lasts until Tuesday, in which he returns to the expected maniacal behavior.

....

okay I have more I want to write about this but I have to start getting ready for work so :( please enjoy this <3

#asks #b-rainlet #my writing #scarejokes #jonathan #jerome #fic: caught

16 notes · View notes

yoonzinow · 4 years ago

Text

red moon - k.mg

➺ inspired by gose’s bad clue episode, mingyu tells his side of the story

• warnings and note: mentions of s*icide, death, angsty angst, the reader’s medical license should probably be taken away lol, over use of the word endearing, lots of difference from the episode, also, Jeonghan, I’m so sorry. There is a lil romantic epilogue in the end but it’s optional, I just had to because I’m too soft and I love happy endings. Sorry if it’s all of the sudden, but if I extended too much it would be too long and I’m not that creative. Again, forgive any typos and I really hope it doesn’t suck ♥

• wc: 9.9k

Your office was simple. Even if you wanted to make it feel more like home, there wasn’t much that could be done. The most you could manage to get was a tapestry hanging on the wall. Even though the inmates were cuffed during the sessions, it was still required to remove any potential harmful object, as well as strong colors or shapes that could be triggering. There weren’t any pictures, ornaments or sculptures of any kind. It was just the locker, a table and two similar chairs.

You were still standing up, waiting for him to come in. You would usually wait for the patient to choose where they sit, but this time, it wasn’t that. It was simply because you froze in place.

-Come in. – you tried not to sound as small as you felt.

After the second noise, the door opened slowly, revealing the most confusing thing you could imagine seeing.

If you’re told you’ll be meeting a criminal, a murderer, the child in your head makes this image of a monster, a creature you wouldn’t want to look in the eyes. But the moment you laid eyes on Mingyu, you saw everything. Pain, confusion, grief and something else you couldn’t yet pin point. All of that in a face sculpted by the angels themselves.

-You can have a seat. – you pointed to the table, but not a specific chair. He sat down on the one closest to him. The guards locked his handcuffs to the hook on the table and left to wait outside. You bowed lightly and waited for the door to close. Walking towards the table, you sat down. The first thought when he first looked at you was that somehow, he knew. You wondered if anything would give away, even though it was highly unlikely.

-So, first of all, how would you like me to call you?

-Mingyu is fine. And you? Doctor? Ms.? Mam? – although his words could come out as cocky, he had a boyish charm that gave him an endearing look. It was like he sat next to you in a park and was simply trying to start conversation. It was like he wasn’t in therapy to understand his crimes. You just had to decide whether it made your job harder or simply more of a challenge.

-Doctor. – you feared you sounded a bit harsh, but it was probably your mind telling you he knew.

-So tell me a little about yourself. – you put your notepad on the table and the pen on your lap, in a force of habit.

-Could you be a bit more specific, doctor? I mean, there’s a lot about me. My past, my present, my preferences, my fears. So, any particular topic I should start with? – again, he didn’t sound cocky. He was genuinely asking.

-Hum… Yeah, it’s a bit of a vague question. Let’s start differently. How are you feeling today?

Like any other patient, you didn’t immediately take notes. Most of them weren’t exactly happy for being arrested, so at first, you tried your best to avoid triggering even more anger, making them feel analyzed instead of heard. Regardless of the backstory you had, Mingyu wouldn’t be any different.

-I’m a very sensitive person. I felt different kinds of distinct emotions since I woke up. – he took a deep breath. –First, I looked around the boring cell and felt… Well, I’m not sure what the feeling was but I guess I had a quick flashback of the recent past. I was quickly interrupted by a short yet stout guard with weirdly thin eyebrows. His grumpy expression mixed with curiosity of what was waiting for me here just made me feel… - he looked around as if he was searching for the right word. –Anxious, to put it simply.

Simply. You wondered what he’d say if wording it the complex way.

-So, what did you think about this place? I mean, what did you expect it to be?

-Honestly? I had no idea, but at the same time, I guess I knew. – he showed a bit of a sad smile. – I guess… - again, he paused. He was constantly trying to find the right words. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was naturally articulated when speaking or if he simply was trying to make your job easy. –I knew it would be visually boring. Why bother decorating for this kind of people, right? – again, he smiled sadly. –But to be honest, I also wondered how I would feel like, spiritually, maybe.

Looking at him was a very interesting thing. His words were obviously heavy in meaning, but what really caught your attention was his body language. As he continued talking about his expectations, he kept smiling as if trying to convince himself that it wasn’t that bad. But he knew it was, and it wasn’t likely to get any better, at least not anytime soon. He was relaxed in his seat, at the same time, holding a firm, polite posture. Giving his medical record, it wasn’t his first time doing that, except this time, it wasn’t about how he felt, it was about what he’s done. He also showed something unknown. His expression had this sort of acceptance to it, as if he knew that his fate was already determined and there was no way back. However, that meant he had something inside that he wasn’t showing completely, and something told you that he wouldn’t. Ever.

Or maybe he did already. You just didn’t pick up.

5 weeks later

The things were going smoothly with Mingyu’s daily sessions. The problem is: you didn’t start talking about the crime itself. You decided to approach him slowly, making him feel somehow safe to open up. Even though he was talkative and cooperated most of the time, there was still something about him that wasn’t being shown. The first troubled feelings and fear that treating him would be wrong was being vanished a lot faster than you thought. Sure, sometimes it would hit you that the man in front of you killed someone you were fond of, but the professional part of you needed to go deeper. Mingyu was polite, kind, not to mention his ridiculously handsome looks. It intrigued you very, very much. How could this be the same man who murdered six people in one night?

But you knew you had to get into the part of his life that led him to this fate. It would be hard and scary, yet intriguing and fascinating.

He entered the room with a smile that was now genuine. It wasn’t that wide or cheerful, but simply out of well manners. The whole process of cuffing him to the table was finished and the guards left. It was quite soon, but you would, eventually, tell the security that the cuffs were no longer needed, as you did with every other patient whose behavior didn’t come as threatening.

-Good morning, doctor.

-Good morning. How are you today?

-The same as yesterday. – he shrugged slightly.

-Okay. – you nodded, ready to jump to the next question. – I have to ask you a question and you might think I’m a bit late for that but… how are you feeling in general, about being here? And by ‘general’ I mean both physically and mentally. How is it that you are settling in the facilities?

-Well, I understand why you took the time to ask that. Obviously the first couple of days can be terrible. But honestly? If we’re talking about the facilities and the overall routine, I can definitely say it’s not that bad. I have a lot more freedom than I thought, so do the other patients. At least the non-violent ones. I won’t say I’m happy, of course. But it could be much, much worse.

-I see. I’m glad you are settling in. Have you made any acquaintances yet?

-I did, actually. I usually have long talks with this older lady when we have the common room time. And I’m also very close with this kid called Hiro, you know him?

-No, not really. He’s not with me. In fact, I don’t really recall that name. Is he Japanese?

-Nope. – he emphasized the ‘p’, amused with the story. –I actually don’t know his name, but that’s what he wants to be called. He doesn’t really talk about his past that much but he wants to leave it behind. So he decided he will be the man he wished he was. He chose his own name and his story began here, so he doesn’t really feel like he’s been locked up, but simply lives here? Don’t know if you got it but yeah. He’s a lot of fun to be around.

You never heard of that patient but you heard similar stories from the other doctors, since it was a huge facility with a lot of professionals, there was no way one could know about every case.

-I’m glad. I hope you can keep up. I heard you were very cooperative last Friday on the game night. You helped a lot before and after cleaning up. Does it feel good to be helpful?

-Yes, it does. – his response came quickly with the most adorable smile you have ever seen, making him look like a proud child. It made your heart clench a little, because you knew the course of the conversation was to bring no reason to smile.

-So, tell me. How do you feel about talking about your past? – you tried to be as careful as possible, not wanting to crash down the amused aura he had previously.

-Honestly? Not great. But also, I was kind of prepared. It’s therapy for inmates, of course I’d have to talk eventually.

His words felt like lots of pounds taken from your back. Mingyu showed himself as more and more mature as time went by and you couldn’t be more satisfied. He knew what you were doing, and he was by no means confused or scared. Sure, talking about the amount of abuse he had to face wouldn’t be a pleasant thing to do, but he knew it was the right thing to do in order to let you do your job.

-That’s true. It’s a very good thing that you know it’s a vital step for us. So, is it okay if I ask you some questions now?

He only nodded.

-Do you understand why you’re here? Not in the office, in the Hospital. – he pouted slightly, but you continued. – You don’t have to explain or tell me in detail. Just tell me if you understand.

-Yes, I do. I mean, I know why. Not sure if I comprehend, but I understand.

You liked the way he worded it. In fact, every single one of his sentences was captivating in their own way.

-Alright. We’ll get back to it later. But I have another question. Where do you think you should be right now? – you were genuinely curious about his answer. You feared he would say something harmful, or go to a more generic path and try to make you feel bad about him, but once again, he took a different turn from which you would expect.

-I should be in a loving home, in the company of a family, or, at least, of people that care about me. Oddly enough, I think I deserve it.

-I don’t think it’s odd. Everybody deserves it. You can say it with confidence.

-Isn’t it, though? I mean, I had family. But look where we are now. Do I really deserve a family that loves me if I got rid of the one I had?

You were in loss of words. He was one step ahead of you, as if he knew already the whole process. Half of you wanted to say to the board: ‘’Okay, tell the judge this man has no need for therapy, because he is more aware of this own emotions than any person declared sane you ever seen.’’

But the other half… That one had this little voice saying it was a matter of time before you found something lurking, waiting to jump on you and make all of your work go to waste.

-Before everything that happened, did you feel for those who were your relatives any kind of emotion that resembles a family kind of notion?

He thought for a minute, surprisingly, not giving you a quick response.

-Well, you can say that. I felt some kind of safety, but not the emotional kind. It was like… If I got into an accident or something, someone would be there to pay the hospital bills and such. It’s not the warm kind of safety but I guess it counts.

So does my insurance company, you thought. -Did you feel loved?

-I guess I’ll never know. I don’t know what if feels like to be loved, so I don’t really have anything to compare with.

Your heart broke a little by hearing his words. Whether he was a great actor or he was simply lonely. Completely, utterly, devastatingly lonely.

-So, what did yo- before you could finish your question, a screeching sound came from the speakers, making you jump from your seat.

-What was that? – Mingyu covered his ears with a pained expression from the disturbing noise.

-An inmate escaped. All of the doors will be locked for a while. – you tried to sound calm but it was always stressing when the sirens went off.

-How the fuck did someone escape? Seriously, there are more guards than prisoners here.

-It’s fine, they can’t go too far. It’s all the same security system all over the facility. The electrical fences automatically increase in voltage.

You didn’t actually think Mingyu would try to escape, but you chose to remind him there was no use trying. Getting off of a cell wasn’t impossible, or escaping from kitchen duty, maybe. Escaping the Hospital was a whole different story. So, it was better to just enforce the information to him.

Soon, a second noise, a shorter one was heard, signaling the inmate was found. However, the session had to be stopped. Every patient must go back to their room once someone tries to escape, for head count.

-As the door opens, the guards will come get you and you’ll go back to your room. I’ll have to warn you, though, they might get a little rough. These attempts of escaping make them a bit angry, just so you prepare for some sort of aggression. Don’t worry, they won’t hurt you, I wouldn’t let them anyway. But they do get a little…

-I get it. – he looked at you with an understanding complexion. –Thank you for warning me.

But were you really warning him? Or you were trying to prepare yourself to a potential scene of him being treated badly?

Mingyu didn’t have his sessions for the next two days after the attempt of escaping of a patient. All of them were put in some sort of lockdown, as an indirect warning. Later that day, he would be coming back, and you were strangely excited. You told yourself over and over again that it was only because you were still curious about the story he was about to tell you, but deep down, you knew there was something else. You could almost say you missed him, even though it was a terrible thing to even think about.

You just needed some time to cool down, so you chose a nice, calm walk through the garden. Everything was back to normal, so it wouldn’t be that boring to walk through the hospital.

The Sun was shining in its full glory, making everything around you seem brighter and more alive. You felt warm inside and out. A few older patients were sitting on a wooden bench, not really talking much, just admiring it all. Some younger ones were cleaning up and looking around.

At the back, there was this little area with a fairy garden kind of vibe. There were flower spirals and two swings, always busy with someone playing like a child. It made you giggle.

However, your smile faltered and you stopped in your tracks. There he was, sitting on the grass, admiring a humming bird kissing a flower.

As a patient called your name, his attention was brought to you. A girl with a shy smile and a flower in her hair came to you.

-Good morning doctor. It’s been a while! – she signaled you to come closer and used her hand to cover her mouth as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear. –To be honest, my current doctor has nothing on you.

You chuckled a little.

-Well, I hope you get along eventually. But for the record, I miss you. – you winked a little. –By the way, you look stunning. – you pointed at her hair.

-Oh. – she reached for the flower and put it on the back of your ear. –Now you look stunning too.

-Oh my, thank you so much! – you smiled widely, with warmth coming from your heart. –But what about you?

-I look pretty without it too. – she covered her mouth as she chuckled. –But if I want another flower, I know where to get it. She walked away, bouncing a little as she happily returned to the people she was playing with. As you brought your attention back to Mingyu, you saw him smiling, fond of the scene that he just saw. You wondered if you should go talk to him or just wave and leave. Apparently, your legs made that choice for you, seeing as you were already walking towards him.

-You look very good. – he said, admiring your features.

-You like my new gift? – you smiled, pointing at the flower you just got.

-I do, I do. – his look became a bit more serious. –But it’s not all. You look… I don’t know. You’re kind of glowing.

You gulped hard. In your sessions, you had your ways of being stern and diverting the situation, but there, just hanging out on the garden, you weren’t sure how to react. Luckily, he didn’t let you wonder too hard and just changed the topic.

-Your patients really admire you, huh? – he asked and motioned his head to his side, silently asking you to sit down.

You straightened your medical coat and sat next to him in the grass.

-It does make me really happy to think so.

He nodded in agreement.

-Me included, doctor. – his voice was small, barely audible.

-I’m sorry? – you asked in hopes he wouldn’t say something that could make you blush. The natural light would make it impossible to cover.

-I admire you. As a professional, of course. – it was endearing how he made sure his words weren’t misunderstood. You just hated the fact that you were expecting something else. –And trust me, -he continued- I have been to a lot of doctors. You listen to me, like really listen. To this person right here, not the boy they wrote I am on that medical record. I never felt the need of showing the real one to anyone because nobody would understand. That is until I met you. I feel safer being with you for this past weeks than I ever felt with doctors that treated me for months.

You completely froze. His words gave you a million sensations all at once, making all of what you thought about your job go to waste. You were a professional, you should be glad that you were doing your job properly. But this? This was affecting you in a completely personal level. It was the pride of achievement, except, not labor related. It was the good feeling of having a special place in the mind of someone you were growing fond of.

Maybe it started slowly, or maybe there was this one moment when one of his sweet words penetrated your soul and made you see something you haven’t before with a patient. It was this hunger for more, this need of understanding that man and even a bit of anxiety to find reasons to de criminalize him. Maybe you were growing the same affection you did in every case, only seeing it more intensely for some reason. Or, in the worst case scenario, you were happy you made him happy. Because you wanted him to be happy.

Not only cured, but happy.

You thought about a million words to use but none of those would hide your fear. You knew that a single word could make you look guilty, for something you were yet to find out.

-It’s almost lunch time. I have to go fill some papers but I’ll see you later, yeah? – you stood up quickly, shaking any piece of grass out of you. -Can’t wait. – he showed you his smile, as sweet as everything else about Kim Mingyu.

It was a nurse’s birthday, which explained the buzz and laughter coming from the staff’s kitchen.

-Oh, hey doctor.

You turned around to see whose voice was calling you. It was dr. Byeon, one of the older doctors. He was a nice old man, but didn’t talk much. Usually, the older doctors would have the that superiority complex, always saying they knew better. DR. Byeon, however, had faith in the next generations. He tried to teach the younger ones subtly, not wanting any credit.

-Dr. Byeon. – you bowed and smiled at the old man. –How are you doing today, sir?

He chuckled a little, probably not used to others going for small talk. That was a heavy energy place, but you tried to make the people around you feel more at ease. He liked that.

-I am doing just fine. In case you didn’t notice, I have a piece of cake I’m about to eat. – he giggled, happily looking at the chocolate cake in the plate he was holding. –There are fancier ones from big bakeries, but this one here was made by our beloved Nana. - He was referring to one of the most admired workers of the place, a sweet and kind old lady that worked at the kitchen since 30 years ago.

-Oh, don’t mind if I do. I’m with you on this one, sir. Nothing can beat our Nana’s baking, right?

Dr. Byeon smiled at your words, and then back to his cake.

-Well, I must go find some cake before it’s all gone. – you told him and he nodded.

-You should, sweetheart. There are a lot of delicious food there. Go eat it, I can see your bones! – he joked dramatically.

-Oh really? So you have X-Ray vision, sir? –you asked and both of you laughed.

-Alright, I’ll take something and leave because I have work soon.

-Yes, yes. – dr. Byeon nodded.

-It was very nice seeing you, doctor! –you walked away but after a couple of steps, he called your name once again. When you looked back, he started speaking again.

-There is something different about you lately. – he said.

You tilted your head to the side, trying to remember if you had a haircut or something visible. Maybe you were more tired than usual and your eye bags weren’t at all forgiving.

-Me? How so? I don’t think I have done anything unusual, my last haircut has a while ago.

-No, no. It’s not that. You are… glowing, one could say?

Your expression was clearly a confused one, so he snapped you out of any worries.

-Don’t worry, it’s a good thing! If anything, you look happy. – he waved a little and left you first. You stood there for a second, with nothing much to think.

It has to be a good thing, right?

Mingyu’s POV

As he heard the sound of the main door to the dorms open, he started to get out of his bed where he just took an afternoon nap, or at least tried. He knew his session would be happening soon, so sleep was out of question.

Mingyu knew that the sound meant the guard was coming to take him to you, which left a bittersweet sensation inside of him. Part of him was excited, like a kid about to open Christmas presents, because he knew that he would enter the room and you would be there, waiting for him. Sometimes, you were doodling on the last page of your notebook and closed it very quickly when they showed up. But your eyes would always find his first. You would greet the guards as well, but you would always look at him first. The other part of him, however, couldn’t stand still. He knew that you would start talking about his past and actions, but he also knew the answers were needed.

The thing is: Mingyu felt like such a fool. You wanted to see him happy because that was your job, but he wanted to see you happy because your smile was the most endearing thing he ever laid eyes on. Maybe it was all in his head and your eyes didn’t light up with his presence, but if in some universe it was true, he would be risking losing it. Of course, you knew how many people he killed, but hearing in details, knowing their names and stories might as well make you disgusted, and just the thought of losing the shine of your smile made him sick.

Or maybe… It’ll explain it all.

The corridor to your office was long, but there were a lot of entertaining things to see. There were other offices from other doctors and also different utility rooms, such as the game room, where the elders would play cards and board games, or the daycare, where the children of the employers would stay occasionally. It was a little weird to have that in a place with constant transit of handcuffed people, but he didn’t read too much into it.

When he finally arrived the thick metal door, there was that annoying screech he grew to enjoy, since it meant his session would start. Except that day, it almost made his heart jump out of his ribcage.

There you were, radiant as always. If not more.

This time, unlike others, when the guard approached to cuff him to the table, you stopped him.

-It’s okay, we won’t need it today. – you nodded politely to the guard, who only responded with a look that said something like ’suit yourself’’.

Mingyu’s heart once again beat alarmingly fast. You trusted he wouldn’t try anything, which he knew was true, but knowing that you believed it gave him a comforting warmth he hadn’t felt in a while.

He smiled in a silent ‘’thank you’’.

-I know we saw each other earlier today but I’d like to ask officially. How are you today? – you started as soon as the guards left.

-Honestly? I’m pretty nervous. – Mingyu knew there was no reason to deny it any further, so he chose to be straight forward.

-Hmm, and why is that? – you wrote something on the notebook, and it was one of the first times he was actually curious to know what it was.

-Last time our session was interrupted in a very crucial moment for me. And for you, I believe.

Mingyu was noticeably showing the relieve of being free of the cuffs, by making gestures and occasionally biting his nails.

-It was, it was… -you agreed and continued. –But are you okay to continue? Actually, to start?

With a dry throat and no idea of the right answer, he nodded.

-Where should I start? Will you ask me a specific question? – Mingyu asked and you perked an eyebrow.

-I could but… is there anything in particular you think I should know? – you leaned your elbows on the table and cradled your face in both hands, like a plead for a nugget. –If you only had a few seconds and sentences to explain what happened, what would you say?

Mingyu thought for a second. Sure, he wanted to see you happy, he wanted you to like him, but he didn’t really know what would be better. The truth, in his head, was crystal clear. But in yours, it could be read differently, or you simply wouldn’t believe. After pondering his options, he decided to tell you the truth. If anyone could understand it, it had to be you.

-I would say that I am not sick, troubled or crazy. I was faced with a situation that was basically a test to my patience. There was no mastermind planning to kill people for fun. It was only a moment of weakness that I regret very, very much. It was a risky move. The thing about being diagnosed ‘’crazy’’ is that no matter what you say next, will only make it worse, specially saying you’re okay. Maybe the majority of your patients would tell you they are not mentally ill, but there was this deep hope inside of him that you knew it was the truth. Something in your eyes made him believe that you saw the real boy sitting in front of you and that you would feel the truth to his words.

And every single bit of his sentence was true, specially the part about there not being mastermind behind the crimes. At least not for murder. That day, Mingyu told you his perspective of the story and could only pray you believed him, or else he might as well stop believing himself.

His childhood was no different from kids with rich families with secrets. He walked in angry phone calls and arguments when playing around the mansion he lived in as a kid, but since he was so young, nobody ever tried to distract him.

His relationship with his father wasn’t anything out of the usual. He was pretty busy and since his mother was no longer alive, Mingyu only had half of the parental attention, but this isn’t unusual.

At the age of five, Mingyu was too young to understand what happened to his father. The scene he walked in was devastating, but he only felt it in is instincts, that his father wasn’t okay. It took him some explanation, as well as you can explain to a child, but of course, with many excuses and holes he would only notice years later. By then, there were people making sure the story he would be telling later wouldn’t be validated.

Mingyu knew you were waiting for a story on how he planned the death of all those men. But the truth was: it wasn’t at all planned.

Even though Jeonghan knew he was the favorite son, it wasn’t enough for him. He never really liked the fact that he would always be the bastard and that would never change. Mingyu liked to have an uncle so close to his age. He and Jeonghan always played together as kids, but once Mingyu lost his father, they became closer, having more of a sibling relationship than anything. The boys had their discoveries and growth together, sharing everything. As they grew older, some stuff became a lot clearer. There were pieces of the story that wouldn’t fit, but they were now old enough to contest it.

The first thing Mingyu discovered was the abuse his father suffered from his grandfather. Even though he too was dead, Mingyu couldn’t help but feel betrayed, since he admired his grandfather with all his heart.

As time went by, Mingyu discovered more and more dirt on the family and their employers. They needed to find out which one of the sides was true, and if any of their doings and lies were justifiable. So they planned, not a murder, but a confrontation.

Mingyu and Jeonghan made sure all of the involved were invited to the gathering on the mansion, so they could force the truth out of them. That night, they would lock everyone in and start trying to solve the whole mess the family was involved in.

Mingyu and Jeonghan planned everything carefully. There would be a gathering at the mansion with all of the people involved somehow on the family scandal hidden up until then. So they made fancy invitations and made sure everything would go according to plan. The workers would be dismissed for the night and the guests would only be released once they confessed. It wasn’t anything out of the law technically. Unethical, maybe.

The day came and everything was ready to start. However, a few hours before the event, there was something that changed the entire course of the plan. Without telling Mingyu, Jeonghan hired a private investigator whose discoveries had been kept to himself until he found out the whole truth. But the detective chose to reveal it all in the night they would rip the truth from their mouth. Mingyu knew his family wasn’t perfect, but he didn’t think things would go that far.

The one Mingyu knew the most was his uncle Seokmin, who was relatively present in his life. Maybe it was the guilt for knowing how much Mingyu’s father suffered, since he was abused as well, both physically and mentally. That night, Mingyu realized the damage his grandfather caused: unlike his dad, Seokmin did not let himself lose the will to live. Instead, he turned the pain into something bad. The only thing he lost was his ability to care, and that is how he became the monster his father was. All the mess began with him, once he planned to murder his father to have his fortune. Also, deep down, to get his revenge. The only thing is: his father was killed before he could do it himself.

But his uncle wasn’t alone, and wasn’t the only one getting profit from the death of the president Kim Taesang.

At that point, Mingyu still thought the death of his grandfather had been an accident. Even though Seokmin wasn’t the one who killed him, he still intended to do so, except he lost his opportunity.

Kwon Soonyoung wouldn’t miss anything related to crimes, especially the ones involving corruption. A while back, the rumors that a coup was being set against the bSK board started to spread, and the reporter Kwon, of course, was there. There were a lot of suspects and too much money involved, which is why it was surprising that all of the sudden, Kwon Soonyoung stopped investigating. Back then, it wasn’t given that much attention, but giving the amount of effort Soonyoung would put in similar cases, it was extremely out of the ordinary.

Xu Minghao was the vice-president, and that made him one of the first suspects when the corruption scandal blew up. After a while, he managed to prove he wasn’t involved. That, however, was the only thing he was innocent from. The reasons why Minghao reached his position were far from noble, including a mountain of lies, blackmailing and other dirty doings. He wasn’t planning on steal the company per say, but he was guilty for throwing the dirt on the president, the dirt he planned himself. His relationship with Seokmin was good, better than the one he had with the president Kim. It would be a lot easier to take him down later so he had to make sure Seokmin took the spot. Minghao was too intelligent to simply plan a way to get rid of the president, so instead, he manipulated others to do his dirty work. He made sure Seokmin got the signs, being encouraged to dethrone his father. How would Seokmin get rid of the president? That didn’t matter to Minghao.

There were no innocent victims that night, but the person least deserving of his faith was the secretary Chwe. Chwe Hansol was a young man, who wasn’t too ambitious. He didn’t aim too high, yet, he didn’t want to lose what he already had.

Even though he started working for bSK at a very young age, he owned the trust and respect from president Kim. Eventually, Hansol was aware of what was happening and the abuse he used to cause his own sons. Hansol was also aware of the unethical ways bSK would profit, but kept silent about everything. So his destiny was set not by what he did, but what he didn’t do.

The plan was to find out what they had done to later decide what they would do about it. Except they now knew the story and, in a few hours, the men in question would be knocking on the door.

In the course of the next 43 minutes, hell broke loose between Kim Mingyu and Yoon Jeonghan. And that’s when it all started to go wrong.

Mingyu was telling the story looking at any flat surface, as if he was trying to visualize his memories in front of him. The words just spilled out of his mouth like they have been trapped for years. He was completely vulnerable as he shared the events of the worst night of his life. Most of the time, he kept his hands on his lap, circling his thumbs one around the other, again and again, sometimes, alternating the order. He sounded disappointed at himself, but somehow relieved. He considered the possibility of never telling the truth, because no one would believe him, and also, because of the guilt of saying it out loud and confirming to himself and to the world that he became a monster for a moment. And that moment would remain forever.

-What did you plan on doing when they got there? – you tried to sound calm and use the same tone you would in any situation and any ordinary topic. You needed him to feel like no matter what he said, you would not stop helping him.

-At first, when we first got the idea, we would corner them and try to force the truth out of them. Up until earlier that day, that was the plan. But Jeonghan’s news catch me by surprise. He was working with a private investigator called Lee Jihoon. This investigator found out all of the crimes committed by the company and their employers and sent it to Jeonghan. – you could see Mingyu getting more anxious, like he was circling the topic to finally reach the climax.

-Okay. What was the new plan? – you tried to hide the slight hesitation in your voice, showing confidence in your questionnaire.

-You know what it was. – the sentence itself was intimidating, but as Mingyu voiced it, it sounded nothing but embarrassing. And then he continued.

The night of the crime

-We have to call it off. Now that we know all of that, what are we supposed to say? All of that was planned so we could confront them, Jeonghan. What now? Shouldn’t we just leave it to the cops? – Mingyu was begging for his uncle who was sitting with his elbows on the arms of the chair, the tip of the big envelope touching his lips.

Jeonghan scoffed. –You are too naïve. Don’t you see? These people are bad, they have money and influence. What do you have? What do we have? The bastard and the crazy boy. What a great team.

-Crazy boy. That’s what you think of me? – Mingyu didn’t mean to sound as disappointed as he did.

-No, not at all. At least not me. Look, the little fucker I hired, Jihoon, - Jeonghan opened a smaller envelope that was on the top of the table. – he got his hands on your medical record. Wanna see it? – Mingyu wasn’t pleased with Jeonghan’s snobby tone but took the envelope from his hands.

The words written on it would stick to him forever. No matter what Mingyu said he saw, nobody would believe him. He was said to have multiple disorders and a person with no capacity to live without constant supervision. He was labeled as insane by the family doctor.

The moment Mingyu mentioned the name of Jeon Wonwoo, you curled your fingers inside the pocket of your coat. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying desperately not to show emotions that were any different from the other names of the involved. It was a confusing feeling. A part of you thought, at first, that you would be secretly angry at Mingyu. At that point, you had no idea anymore. You were no longer afraid of it or him, but you were, to be honest, of your own feelings. Somehow and at some point it shifted all the way around. You wanted the closure to why Wonwoo was killed, but that moment, what you wanted the most was for Mingyu to give you a reason why he didn’t deserve to be there. You wanted not to be angry with Mingyu, but deep down you knew and it scared the shit out of you: no matter what he said, there was no way you wouldn’t be able to forgive him if I asked you once.

-I never understood why my family insisted on such a young doctor. When that guy was finishing med school, my family offered to help him pay his loans in exchange for him to work for them full time. The only answer to why is how easy it would be to manipulate him. The amount of money they would pay? He would do and say anything. Including invalidating me for the rest of the world. One word from him and pft. There goes my sanity. I could swear he needed to go through residency first before being able to diagnose me officially, but apparently there is a whole lot of shit that can’t be explained but can be bought.

You gulped as you listened. Mingyu was tired, was defeated. But he kept his chin up, continuing his story.

-But he wanted more. That’s when he formed some sort of alliance with my uncle and his attorney, Hong Jisoo, or Joshua, as he was known. The three of them had a plan, to poison my grandfather by using his simple sleeping medication mixed with another drug, making it lethal and easily looking like an accident. It would be pretty much undetected by exams, making it the perfect crime. But luckily for them, someone was faster. My grandfather died before they could kill him.

-How did your grandfather die, if I may ask?

-He was murdered. The amount of people wanting to kill you shall tell you the kind of person you are. That’s Kim Taesang for you.

-The prescriptions weren’t used. The drugs weren’t taken from the pharmacy. In fact, it wasn’t the same used to kill grandfather. They didn’t kill him, then who did? – Mingyu was still in shock about all the information, dizzy and blood pumping furiously on his chest.

-That means nothing. They could have changed their plan, change their method. I don’t care. And even if they didn’t kill him, they wanted to.

Mingyu wanted to believe Jeonghan had a point and he had the right to be angry, he really did. But it was too much information and so little time. They tried to place more than Mingyu could handle inside of him and there was no way it could end up well.

-Mingyu, you, me and my mother are the only people that could be called family. Now that my mother is gone, we only have each other. –Jeonghan was now hovering over Mingyu, who was sitting on the floor with his head on his hands. He was hyperventilating, crying and confused. –They are evil. They will keep doing those things if we don’t put a stop to it.

Mingyu raised his head and looked at Jeonghan with sad, red eyes.

-How do we stop them?

-That was one of the most frustrating things I ever felt. My uncle, my best friend. He was sitting there, trying to convince me that killing them was the right thing to do. And I was weak and agreed with him. No one would believe us. So we needed to do it fast.

You had too many questions you couldn’t ask, so you just let him keep talking.

-We would give them the same poison uncle Seokmin, dr. Wonwoo and Joshua would use on my grandfather. Only we would also take it, but a smaller dose, enough to put us to sleep for a few hours until the workers came back. We would give one of them an intermediate dose, so maybe he would survive and make the thing less suspicious, or so he would die in the hospital. It would be the secretary Hansol, probably. All of the confrontation went out the window. Instead, we just needed to make them thirsty.

-Thirsty? – you voiced and raised your eyebrow.

-Well, we put the drug on the water, so we needed all of them to drink willingly, in case there were survivors for some reason. We turned down the humidifier to make it extra dry inside and served spicy food.

-Oh, I see. But something went wrong, I suppose? I mean, your uncle Jeonghan died as well. Did you choose to kill him too? – there was a chance all of that story was bullshit and Mingyu killed them all after planning alone, trying to blame Jeonghan instead. But why would he only tell you in confidence? To manipulate you?

You needed more answers, so you waited.

-It wasn’t planned at all. I was nervous and scared and almost giving up. But they came in and I couldn’t back up anymore. If I told them the truth that moment, I would be locked up for good. So, guess who was there?

You shook your head ‘no’, waiting for him to say it.

-Lee Jihoon. – Mingyu sounded disappointed with himself, rubbing the bridge of his nose. – That moment I realized Jeonghan already planned that before. He cornered me to agree with his plan because he needed help, and he gave me no time to tell anyone, that’s why he waited until only hours before the guests came. The investigator knew the whole story and he also knew Jeonghan was the one who hired him. When the news of their deaths showed up eventually, Jihoon would put two and two together. That was clear now. Jeonghan had planned that. – So I was ready to confront him when I overheard his conversation with Xu Minghao. He voiced clearly how much he despised my grandfather for lying about funding the payment for his mother medical treatment. He purposefully neglected her and it got her killed. The anger in his eyes got me thinking and I was almost sure Jeonghan was the one who killed my grandfather.

Mingyu took a deep breath and you knew he was about to tell you the crucial part of the story.

-I was a wreck, I had no idea how to fix that. If told everyone, I’m pretty sure Jeonghan would also make me look crazy. And then… then I saw it. Jeonghan was putting the mixture on my drink. Not the sleeping pills like he said he would. He couldn’t have any loose ends so he chose to kill me too. – a single tear slid down his cheek, followed by many others. His next sentence was messy and interrupted by hiccups as he started sobbing. –He was the only person I had, you know? And to see him trying to poison me, I mean… How could he do that? – he sniffed and rubbed his eyes like a child trying to stop crying. – At that moment I saw red. I completely blacked out from reality and I realized I had nothing left. So I changed our cups when he wasn’t looking and I watched him swallow his own venom.

You did the one thing you know you shouldn’t. Instead of handing him a tissue, you stood up and cradled him in your arms. He turned around instantly and wrapped his hands around you, burring his head on your chest. Why the fuck would I do that?

Seeing the state Mingyu was in opened a hole on the floor under your feet and you felt like your heart could burst at any second. To see the pain on that boy messed with your insides, making you throw your values out the barred window.

You kneeled on the floor next to him and dried a random tear falling from his eyes. You wanted to dry them all.

-I didn’t take my drink. – he said in a small voice.

You stood up and got back on your seat.

-I’m sorry?

-I didn’t do what Jeonghan planned. You know, to take a sleeping pill and pretend I was a survivor. – he looked deep inside your eyes. - Doctor, where would I go from there? I had no family. I had nothing and I knew nothing about life. I had no idea of what to do with my life and I knew I would never be able to forgive myself. I didn’t want the fortune, the presidency or whatever. I didn’t want to be alone and I lost the little I had. It was the wise choice to tell the truth. Well, most of it. So I hid some valuable objects in case I needed some money eventually and then I called the cops. It was awful. They treated me like an animal who didn’t understand human language. I didn’t bother telling anyone all of it and I expect you to keep it between us. No one will ever believe me, doctor, not even you I’m afraid. But I would never sleep properly again unless I trusted someone with this. So, thank you. I will lay me head on my pillow tonight and it will much, much lighter.

You heard him. You respected his secret and kept it with yourself. However, you didn’t promise him you would sit and wait. It was no longer about admiring him in a different way. Or maybe it was, maybe you were completely unprofessional and let yourself be manipulated, but either way, you made a decision not to stop until the world saw the Mingyu you saw.

It was a hard, a lot harder than you would ever think. It took three months for the board to keep track of Mingyu’s progress and your statements to finally get his case another trial. You had the help from an old time friend who was a lawyer, who walked you through the whole process. First, you stopped your sessions, putting Mingyu in a group therapy. You still talked on the garden where you would watch the humming birds. You tried not to tell him too much so he wouldn’t get his hopes up.

After four more months, his case was finally solved. Mingyu managed to open up to other doctors, realizing that yes, people might not believe you, but that shouldn’t keep you from telling the truth. He was being heard by other people, not only you, but that didn’t change the fact that it was you the one to wake that inside of him, the feeling that there was something for him out there, and that’s what he kept in mind as he walked away, finally free.

here comes the romantic ending, it’s completely optional though ♡

It was a lovely night, that one. It was only a few days after Mingyu’s discharge and you were over the moon. You knew you saved people from their own demons, but the feeling of bringing justice to Kim Mingyu was like nothing you ever felt before.

You could feel the night breeze coming from the windows and shaking the curtains, and watched as your cat played with a little plushy he was obsessed with. You were on your way to the bathroom to shower when someone knocked on your door.

Standing there, wearing a fluffy beige knit sweater was Mingyu. His smile was different, wider and more alive. Seeing him without the white uniform from the hospital was something else and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him.

-You look amazing. – the words slipped out of your lips before you realized.

-Thank you. – he gave you a cheeky, boyish smile. –I feel amazing. Although, there is something bothering me. I never got to say thank you.

-You don’t have to. I wish the world could apologize to you, though.

-Yah, stop saying nonsense. You have done more for me than the world. Just a little bit over a month you saw me and you trusted me. You listened to me in a human way, not only as a doctor. I used to believe that every day, but I tried to keep it real to myself. You were doing your job but… a part of me had hopes that you were seeing me. Me, not your patient. I would never cross that line before but I have to ask you.

-Ask me what? – your words were shaky, like the rest of your body. You were getting dizzy in the best way. It was like a childish, innocent feeling.

-Did you see me, for a moment, as anything other than a patient?

His eyes were wide, like his life depended on your answer.

-No, not for a moment. – his eyes fell to the floor, but before he could get too embarrassed, you continued, not realizing how bad the timing for the pause was. –Not one moment, but all of them.

That night, you shared your first kiss. In the moment his lips touched yours, you believe heaven has sent that man to you. You would never know if it was worth the trouble it could get you, the issues you would face and the way the world would look at it, at him, at you. All you knew was that Kim Mingyu had been mistreated by the world. He made a mistake, a big one that would never go away. He would still pay for it for a long time, but at that moment, the only thing he knew was that right there, by your side, he was finally feeling his place on the world, like he might actually deserve a chance to be happy.

-Won’t you lose your job because of me? – he asked, later that night.

-No. I mean, I’m not sure but… let’s not think about it now, okay?

-Okay. – he blinked a couple of times before closing his eyes and dozing off.

You asked for your vacation. You had three weeks and decided to do something different. By then, no one really knew about you and Mingyu going out. Even though you were early in the relationship, getting to know each other better, you were bonding more and more. It all happened fast, but you were not afraid, not even one bit. You came to learn that Mingyu wasn’t just a lost boy. He was an intelligent man who struggled a lot with his feelings, mostly because he didn’t feel like he was entitled to have a say on stuff.

You decided to go to the countryside with him. So both of you packed and drove all the way to the lodge you had been told about by a friend. It was in a smaller town, but still had a fair amount of buildings and stores, making it a very pleasing place to go around. The place you would be staying was a hostel owned by a couple in their 60’s. There were a few wooden cabins, two floor each with a smaller space on the top floor. The insides were cozy and warm, like the whole atmosphere of the moment. The wooden chair near the balcony on the top floor had a beautiful view to the lake nearby, with a stunning sunset.

-I could live here forever. –you said as you were about to fall asleep, your head buried on the crook of his neck, both of you under a blanket.

-Tell me about it. I don’t think I’m a city boy. This, right here, is heaven.

You had been staying there for a week and a half and you were pretty sure you weren’t leaving. You didn’t really have anything other than your job keeping you in the city, and you never felt more at ease than you had been in that small city.

You woke up and Mingyu was no longer in bed. Confused, you got out of the bed and went to the balcony. You were welcomed with the sight of the owner of the place showing Mingyu how to ride a tractor. He was laughing, happy. It was a genuine image, so special it almost rid of your head completely the image of the lonely boy in a prison uniform. That guy was still there, but he was blooming and that made your heart skip a beat.

You repeated to yourself silently.

I could live here forever.

2 YEARS LATER

Mingyu was still visiting doctors, going to therapy and being supervised by the local social workers. When he was done, he rushed to the construction utilities store he worked part time and rushed home to start his shift at the hostel. Mr. Jung, the owner, was very fond of Mingyu. The moment you and him both showed interest in moving to the city, he offered to help, showing everything around and offering Mingyu a job as a handyman in exchange for a place on a small cabin used by the eventual keepers, which he no longer needed. You moved after you found a job at the local hospital working with children in early stages of mental illness, wanting to prevent more kids from having their childhood traumas haunt them in the future.

Eventually, he found out about your relationship with Jeon Wonwoo. It wasn’t easy, it took a few days for him to process it all. Some part of him felt like you would wake up one day and realize you could never forgive him, but you made sure to remind him every day that you loved him with all your heart and that would never change.

It was already getting dark, but you probably were home already. Mingyu came home from the store and walked towards the little house he was now living. There were no maids, no luxury, nothing fancy. But there you were, playing with your cat and the now grown puppy you found abandoned in the road almost a year ago, sitting on the floor, legs crossed and the small dog jumping, trying to catch a toy in your hand. The way you would always run to him when you saw him coming home was enough to make Mingyu tear up. He felt all of the love he never got in his life in a single look, a single kiss, a single smile. He was happy, completely, entirely happy.

He knew he had done something bad. Still, Mingyu couldn’t help but wonder what amazing thing he could have possibly done to deserve to feel all of that love. It was dark once, but the clouds eventually disappeared and the sky was finally clear again. The blood moon was gone, but unlike the celestial event, it wouldn’t come back anytime soon.

a/n: that’s it! It’s a lot shorter than I thought it would be. Well, I kind of went through a dr. harleen quinzel vibe of ‘’she thought she was curing him but she was falling in love’’ in this, except mingyu is a good boy. I am very, VERY nervous to post but what the heck, let’s do this :D

48 notes · View notes

exploring-in-space · 5 years ago

Text

Aching to Come Home

Robron Week 2020 Day 3: Criminal

Summary: After getting out of prison himself, Aaron meets Robert through a prison penpalship.

Note: This is a little bit of a cheat, but I think it still kinda counts haha also this is 100% a real thing, I spent a good chunk of time scrolling through a website about inmates wanting to start a correspondence!

Word count: 4300

In the end, it’s Aaron’s counselor who encourages him to start a pen pal correspondence with someone currently incarcerated. Aaron has just recently been released after spending a year long stretch for GBH, and he’s been seeing his counselor to transition from being in prison into society.

Aaron had heard of people striking up friendships and even relationships through prison pen pals. It was all a bit crazy if you asked Aaron. Still, one particularly bad day, Aaron sits himself down and scrolls the website his counselor gave him. Some are explicit in their desire to have more than friendship, making Aaron exit out of their bio pages quick enough.

Around the time Aaron is about to give up and tell his counselor to do one, he stumbles on a bio page unlike any of the other bios.

The man honestly looks like one of those white collar criminals that Aaron always hated. Especially given the fact his occupation before was an estate manager. But as he reads through the bio, he’s shocked to read that this man, Robert, is carrying out a life sentence. It’s not like other profiles were shy about stating the reason for being incarcerated (in fact, Aaron had quickly learned that some people are actively attracted to people depending on their crime…).

It’s just...this man doesn’t look like a killer. The picture chosen for the bio is not the typical kind of picture that others had posted. Most were pictures of them in the prison yard, or pictures from before prison. Robert’s wasn’t like that. In fact, Aaron couldn’t even tell if it was taken while he was in prison or if it was a pre-prison photo.

Aaron’s curiosity is too great and it compels him to grab a sheet of paper and start writing. He introduces himself and tells Robert he’s writing because he just got out of prison himself. He doesn’t know how much to put in the letter - Aaron doesn’t necessarily want to spill his guts to a total stranger, but he does share his age and why he’d been sent down. The letter looks sloppy with Aaron’s scrawl and he’s ready to just toss it in the bin and call this whole idea stupid and pointless.

But he glances at the site again, and looks at Robert’s picture. He doesn’t know how to explain it, but the piercing gaze of Robert’s eyes somehow convinces him to just send the silly letter.

So he does. Posts it on a Friday evening and Aaron proceeds to get hammered that night, trying to erase the embarrassment he feels at doing something so out of character. Monday morning, he meets with his counselor for his biweekly session. Tells her about the letter he sent and they talk about it for a while.

“What do you hope will come from this?” She asks, crossing her legs and sitting up to take a good look at Aaron’s reaction. He shrugs and picks at his fingernails to ease his nerves.

“Dunno.” Aaron finally answers with a sigh.

She looks at him thoughtfully before carefully uncrossing her legs and leaning forward. “I think you do.”

Aaron doesn’t say anything and she doesn’t press him any further. Lets the statement lie between them, and it works. He thinks about the letter for the rest of the day and well into the week. The picture of Robert’s face burned into his mind.

The rest of the week has Aaron working at the garage. Cain had offered his old job back when Aaron had gotten out and while it took a few days of Aaron debating it, he finally accepted the offer. It’s good to get under the bonnet of different cars. It allows him to not dwell on the letter he sent.

Weeks pass and Aaron doesn’t get a letter back. He stupidly checks the post everyday and gets disappointed every time there’s nothing. He’s not sure why he’s so disappointed. Maybe because deep down, Aaron knows the reason for sending the letter was because he wished someone had reached out to him while he was inside.

It’s around the time Aaron has given up on the idea that Robert would reply that he finally receives it. The front of the envelope shows a neatly written penmanship, the opposite of Aaron’s. Heart racing, Aaron tears the envelope to read the letter.

It’s short, but Robert thanks Aaron for the letter and tells him he hopes they can continue to send letters to one another. He asks Aaron a few questions about himself and offers that he’s from Hotten. It’s an unbelievable coincidence and it makes Aaron wonder if this was fate. He shakes the thought away, the idea too ludicrous to entertain. But he immediately responds to Robert’s letter, eager to share that he’s from Emmerdale.

After the initial lag in response time, Robert starts replying to the letters much more quickly. They can manage to get letters from one another in about two days’ time and Aaron starts to learn about Robert. They touch on some of the things on Robert’s profile: the fact he’s taking classes to get a degree inside, the son he has named Seb, his family that still live in Hotten. And things not part of his bio: the fact he’s bisexual, the worry that he’ll most likely die in prison. It’s incredibly intimate and personal and makes Aaron want to share his own secrets to him.

Aaron doesn’t ask about the reason for Robert’s incarceration - he doesn’t want Robert to feel as though that is his defining characterization. Aaron is of course still curious, and wants to know. But he also respects that part of Robert that remains private, they still don’t know each other that well, despite some of the secrets they divulge to one another. It’s after two months of steady letter sharing before Robert offers it to Aaron unprompted.

I killed a man because he raped my sister. I hit him with a shovel and he later died from it. I don’t regret doing it, I know if given another chance, I’d hit him again. But I never meant for him to die. I pled guilty before he died, hoping that showing guilt would mean a shorter sentence. I hope you don’t think I’m a monster. But I figured it was time you knew.

It’s concise, and it doesn’t beat around the bush. He lays it bare for Aaron to either accept or not. He thinks about Gordon...about Liv. And he knows he would have done something similar if Gordon had even thought about laying a finger on Liv.

The frank honesty makes Aaron want to return the favor. He quickly pulls some paper and writes about Gordon. It’s emotionally wrenching to write about it. Yes, he’s talked about it, and yes he’s testified about it before a court. But to actually write the words? It’s harder than Aaron could imagine. But he does it, and he sends the letter to Robert, more nervous than when he sent that first letter.

Robert's response comes the usual two days later. Nerves fill Aaron as he opens the envelope, afraid of the disgust, or even worse, the pity. But what's in the letter is neither, much to Aaron's surprise.

Thank you for telling me about your dad. You’re braver than I could ever be. Aaron smiles at the words, at the loopy letters of Robert’s handwriting. He talks a little about prison life and answers some of the questions that Aaron had asked in his last letter. But then, there at the end of the letter, written in smaller letters than the rest of the letter:

I want to hear your voice. Can we arrange for me to call you one of these days?

Aaron had never considered them speaking on the phone. Perhaps because it would make this relationship a little more real. He's successfully compartmentalized his letters to Robert and the rest of his life. He knows it's unfair, Robert has nothing else besides prison. Robert has never even asked for a photo of Aaron.

He’s given vague descriptions of himself, like about the time he had gotten a haircut and the barber butchered his fluff at the top of his head. But he knows that’s probably the extent of Aaron offering his personal appearance to Robert. At least Aaron can sometimes go onto that website and gaze at Robert’s face.

You’re braver than I could ever be. Aaron wonders how true that is when he’s hesitating so much to reply and accept Robert’s offer to speak on the phone. But he worries that maybe this correspondence is getting too serious, that Aaron could cross a line he once scoffed at. He likes Robert, quite a bit to be honest. He’s afraid if he accepts and speaks to Robert, it might awaken something Aaron’s kept buried for the past couple of weeks.

Despite all these fears, he still writes his mobile number in his next letter. They arrange for Robert to call Aaron on a Thursday evening, after he’s had his tea and Robert is free to make his call. He sits at his table, squirming and feeling excited and nervous at the same time.

When his phone finally rings, he scrambles to answer the phone, his heart hammering. “Robert?” Aaron asks when he picks the phone up, nerves coiling in his stomach.

“Aaron?” A breath Aaron had been holding exhales when he hears Robert’s voice. It’s soft yet rich. Its timbre sends a small shiver down Aaron’s spine. His voice sounds like it was made to say Aaron’s name.

“Hiya.” Aaron finally says when he realizes it’s been silent on both ends.

“It’s good to hear your voice finally.” Robert confesses softly, and Aaron doesn’t think he’s ever going to tire of this voice. He wonders why he even hesitated for them to speak on the phone.

“Yeah. Yeah, you too.”

It’s silent again, both of them missing their turn to speak, and Aaron starts to worry that maybe this was a mistake. That they should have just stuck to writing letters.

“So...ah, how are you?” Robert finally asks, and it’s tinged with awkwardness. They’ve traded secrets with one another and now they’re struggling to hold a real conversation. Tension that had been tightening in Aaron’s chest eases and he just laughs at the absurdity of it all. It’s infectious enough to cause Robert to laugh alongside Aaron. It becomes less awkward after their laugh and they pick up right where they left off in their letters.

The hour Robert gets is gone faster than Aaron wants it to be. He doesn’t want to hang up, instead, he wants to talk to Robert until his voice gives out. But he knows how other prisoners get when it’s their turn, so they both reluctantly start to say their good-byes.

“We should make this a regular thing, us chattin’.” Robert suggests. Aaron pauses slightly to consider it, but it has Robert quickly adding, “Along with our letters.”

“Yeah. I’d like that.” Aaron agrees with a smile that hadn’t left his face since they’ve started talking. They waffle about for a few more minutes, still not hanging up, before Aaron hears commotion on Robert’s end and the phone call abruptly ends.

Not that Aaron would admit it - he’s not that soft - but letters and phone calls from Robert start to become the best part of Aaron’s life. The little tidbits he gets to share with Robert and the fact he understands the fears Robert has while being in prison are some of the truest moments Aaron has ever been.

Chas comments on Aaron’s improved mood one day, cornering him in the back of the pub.

“What’s his name?” She prompts.

“You what?”

“The bloke that’s making you smile. C’mon Aaron…” She whines, and clasps her hands in a pleading manner.

“There’s no bloke.” Aaron lies, but his mind invariably wanders to the latest letter Robert had sent that sits on his table. She just rolls her eyes and shakes her head, muttering something about how Aaron never tells her anything and he just huffs a small smile. A secret smile. Reserved only for Robert, despite him never seeing it on Aaron’s face.

It goes like that for months, Aaron learns more about Robert’s family, who he rarely sees because Robert doesn’t want them to feel guilty about the fact he’s in prison, about Seb who is growing bigger every time Robert sees him and how Robert worries how unfair it is for a child to see his father in prison. Robert becomes a person who Aaron knows intimately, more than several exes he’s had before. It should scare him, this feeling of affection for a man he’s not properly met. But it doesn’t, he allows himself to feel this flick of happiness through the most unconventional way.

Until one day, Robert is asking whether Aaron would like to have visiting orders.

The question freaks him out. Not because he doesn’t want to meet Robert in person - quite the contrary - but because of the trauma he faced when he was in prison. The memories of Jason and his gang still haunt him months after being released. Robert’s question stuns Aaron and he ends up not responding to it. Days dissolve into weeks and guilt becomes the reason Aaron doesn’t pick up his pen to respond.

Robert calls one evening, and Aaron lets it go to voicemail, shame blooming into his chest. He watches his phone ring and sees when the voicemail notification pops up.

“Hiya Aaron. Hope you’re okay. I haven’t heard from you. I hope I didn’t freak you out with my offer. We can forget about it if you want. I’m sorry.” Robert’s voice is sad, and Aaron’s guilt is all the worse. He’s made that beautiful voice sad.

Aaron lets the guilt fester for a few more days before he finally picks up his pen and finally writes to Robert. He wants to tell him the reasons why he hadn’t responded, why he sometimes falls asleep to Robert’s name on his lips. But instead, he just accepts Robert’s offer for visiting orders.

He has continued his biweekly visits to his counselor, and he tells her about the visiting orders. The visiting orders that now sit on his table, coming a week after Aaron accepted Robert’s offer.

“Are you excited to meet him in person?” She asks curiously.

“I think I love him.” Aaron confesses to her, wringing his hands, wanting to dig his fingernails into his skin and draw blood.

She doesn’t say anything at first, “Do you think he feels the same way?”

Aaron looks at her, and there’s no judgement on her face. It’s what he’s always appreciated about her, the professionalism of masking her emotions. He thinks of the letters, how each one seems longer than the last one, the phone calls where Robert sounds so animated talking to Aaron and the reluctance to hang up, and the sadness of his voice when Aaron didn’t pick up.

“I don’t know.” Aaron replies honestly.

The day Aaron is off to the Isle of Wight, Chas stops him. “Where are ya going?” She asks, eyeing Aaron’s overnight bag with barely concealed curiosity.

“Meeting some mates, that a problem?” Aaron snipes back. He’s still not told her about Robert, thinks she’ll disapprove and throw a fit. To be honest, he’s not really confided to anyone about him and Robert. If Adam had still been around, then maybe he’d know. But it’s a secret that Aaron wants to keep to himself because the last thing he wants is to share Robert with anyone.

“Fine, keep your secrets. But I’ll get it out of you one of these days!” Chas says with a harmless pout.

“Not likely.” Aaron replies, hoisting his overnight back over his shoulder and leaving before Chas can ask him any more questions.

He takes a plane down to the Isle of Wight. The flight is relatively quick, but he couldn’t justify driving the six hours. It gives him a short time to reflect on the path his life has taken. He once thought it was mad that people could fall in love with convicts, maintain actual relationships. And now here he is, six months after he posted his first letter, on a flight to meet someone who clearly means so much to him.

Nerves prickle at Aaron’s skin when he finally is admitted into the visitor’s room. He’s been on the other side of the table so many times, and it of course reminds him of all the bad memories that made Aaron turn to a counselor in the first place. But he tries to put on a brave face, and awaits Robert’s arrival in the uncomfortable chair.

It takes a few moments before prisoners start filtering into the visitor’s room. A few people have come out before Aaron shoots up from his chair when he sees someone who resembles Robert’s photo. His hair isn’t styled in a quaff like the picture, instead it falls a little flat. He wears the prison issued clothes and he looks older and more tired than he did in that fresh photo. But he’s still the most fit person Aaron has ever clapped eyes on.

“Aaron?” Robert asks hesitatingly, standing before Aaron. He's taller than Aaron expected him to be.

“Yeah. Hiya, Robert.”

A sigh escapes Robert, almost in relief or happiness. He grins and actually pulls Aaron into a hug, something Aaron had not been expecting.

“It’s nice to finally put a face to you.” Robert says when he pulls away. “You’re not what I was expecting, to be honest.”

“Disappointed?”

Robert’s eyes drag up and down Aaron’s body in a blatant way that makes the hair on the back of Aaron’s neck stand. Finally his face erupts into an arrogant smirk, “Not at all.”

Aaron flushes red, but takes the flirtiness in stride. They sit down and ease into a harmless conversation. Robert asks Aaron about his trip down, and then it morphs into less small talk and more of their usual banter and conversation.

At one point, Robert laughs at something Aaron says and reaches out to touch Aaron’s hand. Aaron immediately retracts his hands away from Robert, not wanting him to touch him. Robert’s smile drops instantly, a frown replaces it.

“Have I misunderstood us?” He asks quietly, the hurt palpable when all Aaron wants is to touch Robert’s face. The question, though tinged with sadness, dispels Aaron’s initial misgivings before coming down here: Robert sees something between them.

“No, not at all.” Aaron quickly reassures, placing his hands back on the table as a show of goodwill. Aaron hesitates, but eventually tells Robert about Jason. How he was relentless in hounding Aaron, somehow sussing out Aaron was gay, and the torment he faced in the year he was in prison. “I don’t want to give you any hassle.” Aaron finishes with a mumble.

Robert reaches out again and gives Aaron’s hand a squeeze, and this time Aaron doesn’t pull away. “Aaron. I’m in here for murder. Do you think I care what other people think of me?”

Aaron chews at his lip, looking at their linked hands with a sort of fascination. Eventually though, Robert does pull away, before any notices. Robert could talk a big talk, but the fact of the matter was, they both know they need to be careful.

When the guards give a five minute warning, Robert looks forlornly at Aaron, “I want to see you again.”

“I’m here for the weekend, can come back tomorrow, if you want.” Aaron tries to say nonchalantly, but he knows Robert sees right through him.

He smiles and inches his fingers to Aaron, but doesn’t dare to touch him. “I'd like that.”

Aaron visits again the next day, but the visit only serves to confirm Aaron’s fears: he wants more. The phone calls, the letters, the short hourly visits, it’s not enough. He’s promising to visit Robert in two months' time, but it’s not a promise that warms Aaron. He wants to see Robert everyday, lay next to him, trace his face, tell him his deepest secrets and fears, wake up to seeing a disheveled and rumpled Robert. He wants it all.

Life starts to revolve entirely on Robert after that visit. They speak almost daily on the phone, letters still being sent, and Aaron has made it part of his routine to go down to the Isle every other month. They have fights, of course they do. Robert thinks he’s being unfair to Aaron, making him ‘waste’ his life away on someone who might never get out. But if there’s one thing Aaron would admit about himself, it’s that he’s loyal to a fault.

Still, when about a year passes after Aaron first visits, his optimism starts to take a slight toll. How can he keep this up for another twelve years? Aaron wants more. Needs more. Hour long phone calls, letters, and the times he can get down to the Isle...it’s not enough. It can never be enough. Aaron is in love with Robert, but he’s not so much as even kissed him. The hugs they give each other when Aaron visits last a bit too long, but neither of them care. Aaron can’t even write the depth of his feelings to Robert, for fear the letter falls into the wrong hands.

He sometimes feels like a fool for ever penning that first letter. But how can he truly believe that? Meeting Robert, no matter the limited capacity it's been, has been the best thing that has ever happened to Aaron. But Aaron isn’t a patient person, and twelve more years of longing and wanting the impossible dismays him.

When Robert calls that evening, Aaron tells him as much. “I can’t keep this up, I want more.” Aaron whispers it. He knows the phone lines are tapped and he worries confessing this.

“I know.” Robert replies, voice just as soft. “But I’m appealing my sentence. My barrister thinks I can be out soon. They’re confident the appeal will come good.”

Soon. The word holds so much promise but so much ambiguity at the same time. Still, it may be enough for Aaron to hold on. “And then what?”

“Then...maybe, we can give this a proper go, if you want.”

“Then you come home, to me.” Aaron agrees, clutching at his phone uncaring about anyone who might be listening.

“To you.” Robert agrees faintly.

Aaron breathes out a sigh and he’s never felt more in love. It’s probably mad to even try to consider the possibility that Robert can get out early. But hope is a foolish man’s salvation, and Aaron has never considered himself smart.

In the end, it takes another year of fighting appeals and convincing a judge that the initial sentencing was too severe when it was involuntary manslaughter. But Aaron is next to Robert the entire time, supporting him through their letters and the visits down to the Isle. Their phone calls start to become less frequent as Robert speaks to his barrister

The year is filled with Aaron meeting Robert's family in Hoften, shyly introducing himself as Robert's boyfriend. Robert's sister, Vic, welcomes and cries when Aaron explains how the two of them met. He takes to Vic instantly, and he understands better why Robert did what he did. He gets to meet Seb, who is every inch Robert’s son.

But most of all, he gets to tell Robert he loves him in their own language. They’re both careful, but their love for each other is evident in every word in their letters, and the knowing looks and smiles they share when they get to visit in person.

The day Robert is finally released, Aaron stands in the front of the little welcome party that has congregated for Robert’s release. He’s holding five year old Seb’s hand with Diane and Vic standing behind them. Aaron’s heart is in his throat and nerves coil in his gut.

The minutes feel endless and they torment him, feeling as if time has stood still. But finally, finally, Robert walks out of the prison and he takes Aaron’s breath away. Robert is wearing civilian clothes, the first time Aaron has ever seen him in them, and acting on pure instinct, he drops Seb’s hands and rushes to Robert. Robert mirrors his actions and they meet in ght middle, embracing each other, pressing against each other, almost as if to imprint themselves onto each other. There’s tears falling down Aaron’s cheeks that Robert is wiping away, Seb is shouting in glee and Aaron soon feels Seb’s little arms wrapping around the pair of them.

Robert bends down and picks Seb up, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Seb ducks his head into Robert’s neck and Aaron crowds father and son, petting Seb’s hair and looking into Robert’s eyes. Robert leans forward and finally kisses Aaron, and he melts. Seb wriggles in Robert’s arms, Diane and Vic are crying but Aaron doesn’t pay them a single mind, absorbed entirely of the feeling of having the love of his life kiss him for all he’s worth.

“I love you.”

Aaron’s not sure which one of them says it, but it vibrates between them and it’s the truest statement he’s ever known. He knows Robert will similarly have to go to counseling like Aaron, and he’ll have to now adjust to a world where people might judge Robert for the sins of his mistakes. But that’s neither here nor there, all that matters is this moment of feeling Robert’s lips on his own.

Despite the long road they may face, Aaron knows they can weather it, because they’re together and Robert is coming home to Aaron.

#robron week #rw2020 #robert sugden #aaron dingle #robron #robron fic #my writing #my edits #My stuff

113 notes · View notes

whereisten · 5 years ago

Text

Creature Feature - Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Preview | Taeil blurb

Summary: You work at your family’s 9-5 nighttime movie theater for the supernatural. Your fling with vampire!Taeyong is just that: a fling.

Pairing: Vampire!Taeyong x female reader

Word Count: 3.5k words

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Smut (just a very brief mention of fingering)

[1:30 AM]

You were furious. You knew that you were being irrational with him. You were throwing a fit because he couldn’t drink your blood? Or was it something more than that?

To be frank, you were mad at yourself. You couldn’t understand why you were so angry.

From the first time Taeyong came into your office to say hi.

To every engagement you had at the 3:00 AM showing of a movie that had been out for weeks. When no one else was around.

To when he left you a box of your favorite pizza in your office when you had a rough night.

To when he slyly helped you manage some rowdy customers. It was a close call that time with the hybrid who tried to break your neck when you told him he couldn’t harass the female customers. Thankfully, he never showed up again.

To when he sang along to “How Deep Is Your Love” as you slow danced in your candlelit office.

He really knew how to charm someone who wasn’t his escort.

Taeyong encompassed your mind more than you let on. And you couldn’t tell anyone. Your parents would disown you for fraternizing with the vampires. Your parents tolerated the presence of vampires at their theater but to befriend them? Out of the question. And you could never figure out why without getting turned away.

“The less you know, the better, y/n. Now go watch a One Dimension video,” your dad told you when you were seventeen. He meant One Direction.

“y/n, vampires are manipulative and cruel. It’s in their core. Don’t question it,” your mom said from time to time until this day. She possessed a haunted look on her face whenever the topic came up.

The supernatural and the human race...For the most part, they didn’t see eye to eye. They were divided to prevent even more chaos from unfolding in this world. Your mother’s side of the family was bound to live among and serve the supernatural for centuries, she told you. Your maternal grandparents founded Sinema. Sinema was a safe space for the supernatural to mingle and escape to in the nighttime when most humans were asleep and oblivious to the world. Sinema could only be seen by the supernatural and their allies like you, your mother, and your father by marriage.

As a child, you attended night classes with some of the supernatural that could pass for humans, like werewolves and vampires. When college came around, you lived those four years as a regular young adult. Adjusting to more of a daytime schedule at that time was a pain so you tried your best to get 5:40 PM and later classes. Eventually, you adjust to earlier classes.

Coming back home to work alongside your parents wasn’t your number one choice but it was your birthright. Maybe when your parents retired, you could find another career endeavor away from the movie theater and still help out the supernatural.

You were obligated, after all.

And you were fond of them. A lot more than your parents were, as a matter of fact. And they weren’t particularly thrilled about that.

Your parents expected that you would marry a nice human boy so he could support you the way your dad supported your mom.

Your parents were so in love it blew your mind sometimes. Your dad worshipped your mom. The adoring looks and the need to please her never faded. Your mom looked at your dad every day like she was falling in love all over again. You couldn’t believe that the love they had could exist somewhere else. Or that you would ever find it.

Your dad must have loved your mom so much to give up the life he had to be with her. He could have been a hotelier and traveled all over the world. He loved the sunlight when he was a boy. But his priorities realigned when he met your mom. So your folks hoped you could find something just like that. A regular boy who could settle down with you and manage a movie theater full of creatures he originally thought were fairy tales.

Your parents hadn’t factored in that you would meet Yuta, though.

When you were away at college, during your senior year, you met a boy with the most brilliant smile and long silky black hair that always left crowds of people stunned. Your class with Yuta ran three times a week. After noticing you on the first day, he moved from his original seat to yours over the course of the next few days.

Lecture 1: He sat across from you as the lecture hall ran circular like a dome. He liked your laptop stickers.

Lecture 2: Moving to your side of the room, he was now four seats away, he sent you handwritten notes. Some were flirty and some asked you to diagnose him with any of the disorders the professor discussed.

Lecture 3: Three seats away, he sent you less notes, instead staring at you and winking when you met his gaze. He was still an excellent note taker, given that he glanced at you several times.

Lecture 4: Two seats away. He deliberately dropped his pencil right next to you so you could pick it up for him. You obliged and handed it back to him. He deliberately ran his fingers against yours. That was when you realized he was a werewolf.

Lecture 5: he sat right next to you. You two exchanged numbers and grabbed coffee after class. You let it slip in conversation that you knew he was a werewolf.

Lecture 17: you two were inseparable. He was a little cocky but somehow his arrogance made him more attractive. You helped him with his transition for the full moon that night. And after it was over, he took you to Waffle House and you splurged on chocolate chip waffles.

Lecture 32: he finger fucked you when the professor played a documentary. At this point, you two migrated to the back of the classroom so no one was the wiser. He told you he loved you that day.

Lecture 47: you two sat at opposite sides of the room again.

Yuta ended up being one of your biggest regrets. As far as your parents knew, he was the human boyfriend that got away. You were okay with that. Better that than to face their wrath for dating a creature.

It’s been a few years since you graduated. Yuta was probably an alpha now with a trophy wife who was in the process of giving him twelve kids. You could only hope he didn’t treat her the way he treated you.

🎥

Two days have passed since you left Taeyong in your office. He was smart to give you time to cool off but he still came to the theater. The nerve.

You’d just finished talking with your supplier for the concessions. They were delivering their latest shipment out back. Employees Mingi and Seonghwa were out back helping them out. You hoped to snag some Sour Patch Bats this time without getting rebuffed by your parents.

You checked out a movie poster for the next Paranormal Activity film, which was dubbed as a comedy in these parts. It was an image of a blank TV screen. You observed it carefully to see if there were any hidden details when a transparent face appeared before you.

“Boo,” Taeil said, with his most malevolent expression. His face pale and almost sucked dry from an eternity of dehydration. Bags under his eyes from sleep deprivation. His teeth rotting and falling at your feet.

“Nice one,” you backed away from the poster, “But that trick hasn’t made me piss my pants since I was three so...you’re gonna have to try harder.”

Taeil the friendly ghost came out of the wall and appeared to you in his transparent form. His horrifying face was a ruse. He reverted back to the form he possessed the moment he died: an elegant young man with a golden tone on his skin. He wore a nice navy button down and black slacks. He was lucky to have died in those clothes since they were the ones he was stuck with until he ascended. You’ve seen ghosts in their bunny pajamas and some in their lingerie.

Taeil sighed, “You’re tough to break, y/n. Think I can try that on Lexa?”

“I thought we agreed she should live with paralyzing guilt all of her life. Not kill her instantly from fear,” you replied. Lexa was Taeil’s ex-girlfriend who cheated on him and told her lover that she wished she could get rid of him. She didn’t realize that her lover would take that to heart and push Taeil off of a twenty story building. Lexa helped her lover hide the body and they skipped town. They weren’t too far from Sinema now.

You offered to help Taeil get justice but Taeil already got his killer incarcerated. Now he paid him nightly visits at the penitentiary and the killer’s fellow inmates mocked him for bellyaching about seeing the ghost of his victim. Taeil was having a ball.

Taeil pouted at your remark. “Oh, she won’t die. It’s not that terrifying.”

You added as you walked back to the entrance, “She’s weak. You told me that..”

“Yeah yeah yeah...Enough about me, how’s it going with Edward Cullen these days?”

“Nothing’s going on,” you said, stuffing your hands into your pockets.

“You two were having a lot of fun on Friday night...Ballsy of you since Haseul was very close to bulldozing the door down.” Taeil chuckled.

You sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you? Even if you can walk through walls, my office is off limits.”

“But not to Edward Cullen over there,” he nodded toward the ticket stand where Taeyong was buying tickets for him and his vampire comrades.

You blushed.

“What would your parents say?” Taeil asked.

“They’d tell me to keep up with the pill and go nuts.” Taeyong couldn’t impregnate you even if he tried. Vampires couldn’t reproduce with humans. Even if you were 99% human.

Taeil sighed. “He’s trouble, you know. You better wrap up whatever it is you got going with him. Before it gets messy.”

“Taeil, I know all there is to know about guys like Taeyong. You think I would ever let it get that far?”

Someone tapped your shoulder and you felt a wave of dread overtake you. You turned around.

Yuta.

“I knew it was you,” Yuta said, smiling at you with his perfect teeth that made every single person want to hit up their orthodontist.

“Please tell me this is a dream,” you muttered at Taeil.

Taeil said, “I could pinch you but I’m a ghost.” He left you alone with Yuta as he quickly faded away. Probably to go haunt Lexa. You wished you could join him.

“Tae-“ you started but it was too late.

“You’re even more stunning than I last saw you. I’m dying here,” Yuta said as he moved closer into your no-no square.

You backed away, hating how he still had a very small effect on you. You really couldn’t believe that he was here.

Nakamoto Yuta stood before you, his now silver hair running past his shoulders. His rockstar apparel hugging his body tightly. He was always fit but he must have been an alpha now. He always told you that once he graduated from college he would be alpha. And his body definitely looked like an alpha’s. Rock solid and ready to smother you if you rubbed him the wrong way.

You said bring it on.

“y/n, my eyes are up here,” he said as he pulled your chin up to him. He smiled at you the way he did during your honeymoon stage. He loved to do that to you.

But he forgot that he broke your heart.

You smacked his hand away. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Didn’t you miss me? I sure as hell did,” he said as he inched closer again to smell your shampoo. “Your still using the same shampoo. My favorite.”

“Last time I checked you hated my guts.” But not as much as you hated his.

“I could never hate you,” he said as his flirty demeanor faded. He started to realize that he really did a number on you. And he felt more like an ass with each passing second.

“What do you want?” You asked as your eyes shifted to Taeyong. He was in line for concessions and he watched you like a hawk. His prominent jaw could stab anyone in line at that moment. You quickly turned back to Yuta, who you also prefer to avoid.

“A second chance,” he pleaded.

“Are you joking?” You gaped.

“No,” he said, deadpan.

You had nothing to say. The idea of him being serious was too much for you to process.

He continued. “I’ve come to realize that I was unfair to you. I’m sorry.”

He was onto something. At long last. “Look...That sounded almost sincere.”

He continued, his dark brown eyes never losing sight of you. “You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I was too blind to see it.”

Why? After all of these years?

You sighed. “Did you realize this after you achieved your dream of becoming an alpha? Because Yuta, that was all you cared about. You were going to meet some girl from another prominent pack and unite the packs. It would all be yours. In the end, it didn’t matter who reigned beside you. She would always be beneath you. In status...and in everything else.”

Yuta clenched his teeth in response and you could hear his low growl. He bit back his words. “I-“

“Yuta, no. Spare us both and just leave.” You’ve had enough.

He sighed. “This was not how I wanted this to go.”

You lifted your brows. “How did you expect this to go?”

“To be honest, I was expecting us to reunite at the beach by the end of the night.”

You frowned. “What?”

His face was now flushed with embarrassment instead of anger. “Uh...”

“Excuse me?” You demanded. The nerve of this man.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that...”

“What has gotten into you?”

“Honesty has always been my motto. You know this, y/n. Regardless of whether I’m an ass or not. It seems as though becoming an alpha has amplified that trait.”

After an awkward silence, you said, “That must get you into a lot of trouble, alpha.” Who knew how much havoc he wreaked since graduation?

He boasted, “I’m the most powerful alpha. I can deal.”

“Has your modesty gone up from low to medium? Or is that just wishful thinking?” You joked.

He chuckled. “It’s a little better.”

You shook your head at him. He was such a jerk but he seemed sincere.

“Y/N!” Haseul ran over to you. “I need to break a thousand dollar bill.”

“Come again?” You asked.

“It’s your regular,” Haseul said, winking.

You knew damn well to whom she was referring. Taeyong had an interesting way of trying to get your attention. Irritating but effective. And he was about to get an earful.

Yuta noticed your change in mood. He knew that the inch closer he’d gotten to you tonight was meaningless. It was in your eyes. There was someone else.

You turned back to Yuta. “I have to go. Take care, Yuta.”

“y/n-,” he started with your name but stopped when you rushed off with Haseul.

His eyes darted all over the theater entrance. Who dared approach his girl?

That was when he saw Taeyong at the front of the line for concessions. To Yuta, Taeyong looked presumptuous and arrogant and weak. All vampires were. He was far beneath an Omega, the lowest rank a wolf could have.

Yuta watched Taeyong’s serpentine eyes on you. Taeyong looked at you like you were his impending snack. No respect at all, Yuta thought.

Your taste in men fell off the deep end, it seemed.

You walked over to the counter where the line was growing restless with varying growls and screeches.

“How can I help you, sir?” You gave him your most winning smile.

Haseul piped in. “He wanted to pay for Sour Patch Bats with a thousand dollar bill.”

“We don’t accept thousand dollar bills, sir,” you said, desperately wanting to glare at him.

Taeyong smiled. “That’s fine. I have smaller bills.”

Haseul gaped. “That’s not what he-Oh!” She realized something you didn’t.

You apologized to Haseul and left the register to meet Taeyong. You sat down at the bench by Theater 13, the theater that always played the most popular film out.

Taeyong opened his bag of Sour Patch Bats and offered it to you. You shook your head and smacked his shoulder. “You know Haseul’s stressed enough already. Don’t give her any trouble. If you want to talk to me, just come and talk to me.”

Taeyong dug into his sour gummies. “Seemed like you wanted to get away from that dog so I got creative.”

“Thank you but I can handle him. You didn’t have to do that.” You took the bag of candy from his hands and ate some. He was beaming.

“A friend of yours?” He asked way too innocently.

“He’s my ex from college,” you said.

“I figured as much. Since you didn’t push him away the moment he breathed in your direction.”

You looked at Taeyong trying to get a read for his mood. He was neutral and it unsettled you.

“He wanted to get back together and I told him no,” you admitted.

Taeyong struggled to contain his emotions so he got up and said, “I’m going to get an ICEE. Do you want one?”

You nodded. “The triple, please?”

He nodded and smiled shyly at you. You both loved triple flavor ICEEs: cherry, blue raspberry, and coke.

He came back with your drinks. He handed it back to you.

“Hey, you drank out of this one!” You frowned and tried to grab the other untouched one in his hand. “Give me that one!”

He refused to give it to you and raised it above you so you couldn’t reach.

“Taeyong, come on!”

“How about this?” He asked quietly. “You can drink out of mine and we’ll call it even?”

“An indirect kiss. How...shoujo manga of you. Alright, let’s do it.”

He lifted the ICEE back down and you were going to drink it from his hand when he leaned down and kissed you. Oh, he was good. His mouth was cool on yours. An ICEE never tasted so good. You took advantage and switches your drinks.

He pulled away. “Hey!” He frowned.

“One kiss is enough, is it not?” You teased as you drank from the new cup.

Joking around like this, you forgot that he was a powerful vampire.

Who had swift reflexes

He drank from your ICEE cup in the blink of an eye. He winked. “One kiss will never be enough.”

“You’re so greedy. Why did you claim to buy me an ICEE if you were going to drink them both?”

“y/n I barely drank from yours. You’re just too OCD,” he joked.

“I resent that. I’m OCD? Don’t be such a hypocrite. You wash your hands almost as much as I do.” You two were neat freaks and as a fellow germaphobe, only he could tease you about it.

You went back and forth for a few more minutes before you got called back into work. Things weren’t exactly resolved with Taeyong but you let yourself have hope.

When you returned to your office, you found a jewelry box on your desk. Tiffany and Co.

Taeyong had outdone himself this time, you thought. You still needed to talk to him and tell him what’s been on your mind.

But.

It would be rude to not open his gift.

You were stunned to find a rose gold necklace inside. It was exquisite. You saw that there were two letters at the center. You found your initial and then.

You found a Y.

Y for Yuta.

You quickly put the pendant back into the box and quickly found the note under the box.

“y/n, I know I have a lot of making up to do. But I can promise you that I’m doing my best to be a better man. I want to be a better man for you. I hope one day you can forgive me and we can start again. I love you. Always, Yuta.”

“Oh, boy,” you started.

Someone knocked on your door and opened it. No one else did that except Taeyong and-

Your parents.

“Honey, we’re back!” Your mom, sporting a new tan, hugged you. Your dad hugged you after.

“Kiddo, the place looks great,” your dad said, “Any trouble since we’ve been gone?”

You quickly stepped backwards to your desk to hide the jewelry box and note behind you. You spun around to your desk and pretended to gather some papers so you can hide Yuta’s idiocy.

“Nothing to report,” you said.

Author’s Note: hey y’all! Thank you so much for always giving us so much love! And thank you for waiting for me! I’m so excited to take some time to write! For this chapter, I was inspired by a scene from Gilmore Girls (when Taeyong kisses y/n during the ICEE scene). I was also inspired for the transition to full wolf by Teen Wolf and The Vampire Diaries (Best shows ever). I was also inspired by a scene from @sakuurae’s story “Study Sessions” for the mention of Yuta having fun with y/n in lecture 🌚. I was also inspired by @caiuscassiuss’s story “Sasaeng” for the description of Taeil’s death. It’s an interesting mixture of inspirations. 😂 Thank you for reading!

377 notes · View notes

clairecrive · 5 years ago

Text

“Visitor” pt.2 -Bronson x reader

So a couple of you requested a part two of the Bronson imagine after I’d posted it. And while I didn’t mean for it to have one, I recently found inspiration to write it lol. So here it is. I guess you can say that I’m in mood to write smut lol, don’t know if I’m any good at it, considering that it’s like the second time maybe that I write a heated scene. So let me know! Hearing your thoughts is priceless to me!

Tag list:@of-love-and-of-the-sea, @mollybegger-blog, @deaflikehawkeye, @br0ck-eddie, @fandom--0verdose, @evelynshelby, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @shadow-of-wonder, @sopxhiea (let me know it you wanna be added)

Part 1

Warning: SMUT, porn without plot?

While for others Friday may be a synonym of drinks and wild nights, for y/n it pretty much consisted in her choosing which cake to make so that she could enjoy it all over the weekend. She wasn't one for strict and no carbs diets by any means, however, she did try to have a healthy and balanced lifestyle. And that included reserving sweet goods for the end of the week.

She had a peaceful life, especially since Charlie had been in prison. Yes, work and friends kept her busy but the neverending buzz of society was left behind the closed door of her apartment, now silent and quiet, when it had been so full of life and noisy once. Charlie had the habit of watching the tv at an impossible high audio level. Every day she’d get home, she’d unmistakably hear the program he was watching as soon as she stepped outside the elevator.

Even if she didn’t want it to be true, a part of her already knew what the officer’s words were going to be before he even opened his mouth when she asked about Charlie about a week ago.

“The inmate is not allowed any visitors.”

Shooing away her disappointment, y/n knew it was silly to think that she could change his temperament with the promise of sex. It was all rather foolish, she had to admit it but it was a desperate attempt to get him back. Desperate and unsuccessful. It had hurt like hell but in fact, her life, her daily life, hadn’t changed that much. It was more the disappointment that got to her.

Nevertheless, nothing a good old chocolate pie couldn’t fix. Taking the list of the ingredients you will be needing, you set off to the store. Switching all the lights off, she opened the door before looking for an umbrella in the very likely case it’d start to rain. In doing so, she turned your back to the door consequently failing to notice the man standing on her doorstep. And she didn't until she turned around. The umbrella hitting the floor, the only sound.

Charlie, her Charlie, the man who she was always thinking about, the man she missed so much, was finally standing before her. But what was he doing here? Shouldn't he be in prison? Had he escaped? Wait-was he even real or was it just her imagination playing her?

Waiting for him to speak, y/n just focused on him trying to spot anything that could tell her that she was hallucinating. However, Charlie didn't speak. He too was frozen on the spot, taking her in. So, she was the one to break the ice.

"Charlie?" Her voice came out like nothing more than a whisper. Afraid that if she spoke a little louder, she would send him away. Even if she was hallucinating, she didn't want the image in front of her to disappear. She missed him so much…

"Yeah," the ghost finally spoke clearing his voice, "that's me." His voice quiet like hers but for an entirely different reason.

He knew that she had gone by the prison to see him as she had promised and he was also painfully aware that he hadn't held his end of the bargain. Charlie knew that she was tired and lonely and every fibre of his being hoped that he hadn't pushed her too far.

"What are you doing here?" So she wasn't seeing things…

"I'm home." The honesty and fragility in his voice were so painfully evident for y/n that she gasped loudly. Charlie had always said that she was his home. Although, after what happened she had started questioning everything.

"You promised Charlie." Relieving that day in her mind and what it had implied made it impossible for her to keep her voice from breaking.

"I know. But I have a valuable reason for that." He said taking a step forward, "just hear me out, will you?" Opening his arms to show that he was being honest, he stayed where he was. A step away from her, his home and the life the had made together. When he received a nod from her, he started speaking. It wasn't much but it was still something.

"They offered me a deal. Stay two weeks in isolation and behave and they'd let me leave." Now he could only wait to see her reaction.

"So, you did actually behave." She mused looking at his sceptically

"I did love. A fucking angel I was." His lips twitched, the only indication the movement of his moustache

"Of course you were." She snickered at the thought. More like a devil he was.

"Well then. I guess good boys do get rewarded." And that's was all she needed to say to set him off. A malicious look and the words that promised him his most ardent desire.

"They fucking do." Muttering under his breath, y/n had only the time to pick the umbrella up before he had his hands on her. The object was soon discarded as Charlie took her in his arms holding her up by her waist. Kicking the door shut behind him, he literally wasted no time and pushed her on the hallways hall desperately kissing her neck.

"You've no idea how much I fucking missed you, love." He mumbled in between kisses. But y/n was just as much desperate for him as he was for her and knew exactly what he was talking about.

"I think I do." Taking his head in her hand she made him shift his focus from her neck to her lips. They kissed for the first time after ages and it felt better than it ever did before. Moaning when he swiped his tongue on her lower lip, she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss while her hands started undressing him. His hands were already under her skirt and took no time to join her in undressing each other.

Leaving a trail of clothes behind them, they finally reached their bedroom. He threw her on their bed, immediately climbing over her and entering her.

"Oh my god." she moaned

"Oh fuck." he hissed instead and it was clear how both of them were starved for the other.

Charlie started to thrust into her with increasing speed. It didn't matter if it was quick, he was sure he wasn't going to last long anyway. Y/n was tight as if it was her first time, and while it helped him reach his high it also meant that she was more sensitive than ever. It had been too long for both of them.

"Harder." She moaned at him, she ached for him. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she clutched at him afraid that he would leave her again. He was hers and this was where he was meant to be. With her.

"Y/n." Her name on his lips sounded like the most beautiful word and aroused her to no end. Hearing the dedication in his voice, the yearning. It set her off and he soon followed her.

“Oh, Charlie, what did you do.” y/n sighed when she felt him come inside her. Charlie wasn’t as bothered though. Collecting some of his cum that dripped out of her, he smeared it all over her core.

“I love seeing you covered in my cum.” He mumbled huskily whilst taking some more of his semen and taking it all over her body, as a matter of fact.

“Charlie,” she complained wiggling to try and get away from his dirty fingers, “cum is sticky, stop.”

“Well, I better hope it sticks. So that everyone we’ll see the stain and know that you’re taken.” Y/n could see him getting worked up again and reached out to his face so that her caress could calm him. Pulling him down so she could kiss him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. However, Charlie wasn’t done with his little speech. His hand went back to her core.

“This is mine,” he said putting two of his long fingers inside her. Kneeling between her legs, he lowered his head so to kiss her clit. “This is mine.” He continued this way, leaving a trail of kisses all over her body while mumbling “this too” until he reached her chest where he stopped.

“This,” he pointed with his nose to where her heart was, “is fucking mine. Right?” and gave her a little kiss. Too overwhelmed by his sweet yet erotic stunt, y/n didn’t answer making Charlie make a wrong assumption.

“Is it not, y/n?” He almost growled when she didn’t answer and despite how menacing he could look like in this moment, she couldn’t help but smile sweetly at him. Charlie had always been insecure when it came to her and their relationship. And after months in prison, she could only imagine how worse it had gotten.

“Of course it is, Charlie.” She whispered finally putting him out of his misery, “It has been yours from the moment I met you.” she admitted.

“It needs good care though,” she continued talking in a soft tone, knowing that it was best with his volatile moods, “ and you’ve been away so long. It felt neglected, like you didn’t care for it anymore,” she delivered the blow adding a pout to seal the deal. Charlie’s eyes shone the way they always did when he would look at her, with admiration and protectiveness, and she knew she had finally got through to him.

“Never.” He matched her soft voice, his eyes meeting her, his mouth kissing his way to her mouth. “I can never stop caring for it.” His solemn tone made it almost sound like a promise but she needed to be sure.

“Promise me, Charlie.” She demanded softly planting a small kiss on his plumpy juicy lips. Growling Charlie’s head followed hers when she pulled away, wanting nothing more than to get lost in the kiss. “I fucking promise love.”

“No more prison Charlie, no more leaving me. Promise me.” She continued, her tone getting a little firmer, but he was too lost in the feeling of her lips on his face and neck to notice.

He wanted her. He had been deprived of her for too long. He wanted nothing more than ravishing her all night, to kiss all of her body and then start again. He couldn’t resist anymore. His head lowered between her shoulder and neck and started kissing the skin there almost automatically.

She was losing him, she could feel it. Y/n could feel his erection growing again but her appetite matched his and was more than ready for round two. However, she needed to hear him saying it. Promising her that he wouldn’t leave again, that it was the last time she had to go through all of that.

Wrapping her hand around him, she squeezed hard enough to get his attention. “Promise me, Charlie,” she whispered in his ear.

“You’re fucking mad if you think I’m going to leave you again, y/n.” And that’s what all she needed to hear.

Moaning when his lips finally touched hers, she got all that she needed, and eagerly direct him to her warm and awaiting core.

Seems like she was going to enjoy another kind of sweet this weekend. Not that she was going to complain of course.

#charlie bronson #bronson #bronson imagine #bronson imagines #charlie bronson x reader #bronson x reader #bronson movie #tom hardy #tom hardy imagine

139 notes · View notes

joshslater · 5 years ago

Text

The Reformatory

A rewrite of jd07201990′s swimmer story. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

T -1

Dear diary or however you are supposed to start.

So tomorrow is the big day. Dad and I are sleeping at a Holiday Inn at the other side of the state. Well, I'm obviously not sleeping. How could I? So I thought I should start a journal of some sort to document this experience.

Some background. Two months ago I was in a fight with Mark Samberg on the football team. It had gotten pretty bad between the football schmucks and us swimmers. The jockheads were constantly harassing us, calling us fags and prissy boys. It happened often and was getting boring. As the captain of the swim team I asked Mark to knock it off and get his players in line. Idiot as he is he tried to knock me out instead, and I lost it. In our scramble I managed to knock him down and was about to kick him in the shin when he shifted and instead I connected with his knee. Apparently it fractured. He'll be able to walk and even run, but he'll not be able to play again for years, so he lost his Scholarship.

His family sued everyone they could. Me, the school, the swim coach. In the end all the lawyers sat down in a room with a local judge and came up with something they all could agree to. Mark gets some study assistance to get his grades up, the school had this quickly brushed under the carpet, and could pretend I was never student there. Me not graduating wasn’t really a blow, as my college fund now went to pay for Mark’s education, as compensation. They were rich enough to afford it anyway, but they wanted to see punishment. I get the honor to spend the next 180 days at the Lepinski Adolescence Reformation Center, where I will "participate in all scheduled exercises, activities, therapies, meals and medication programs". They can tack on some extra days for bad behavior without going back to the judge, but essentially I get 6 months at bad boy camp for standing up to bullies.

What will I do there? No idea. The website talks a lot about work ethics and responsibility and working together with the local community. Sounds like labor camp to me. I'll guess we'll know tomorrow. But first we have to visit the hospital for a check up. My first day in prison will mostly not be in prison!

Day 1, Monday

We started with a checkup at the hospital, and man did they do a thorough job. Our appointment was at 10, but before that I had to fill out a form with 100 questions. The doctor spent more than 30 minutes doing the most extensive check I've ever had. Not only that, but after the check we had to go to the sample lab to draw blood, and finally I had a CT scan at noon. After that, and a quick lunch, we drove to the actual reformation center, which was in a smaller town 2 hours away.

It's an old boarding school building that they've turned into this "Reformation Center", and it clearly looks more like a prison than a school. Just a heap of two story brick and concrete buildings out in nowhere. Not much of security, but then everyone was there "voluntarily", meaning that we all had a proper punishment waiting for us if we left. I hugged dad goodbye and was shown to Mr. Kerwin’s office by the entrance guard.

Mr. Kerwin was a lean, ripped man in his forties that oozed military discipline. He explained that he was responsible for my rehabilitation and that he wouldn't start soft. He would give me a packed schedule, and if I didn't pull my weight he would add more days for "noncompliance". If I didn't like it I could run back to judge Stephenson and ask to start over in juvie.

Perhaps that would be better, because the schedule he showed me was totally insane.

4:30-5:00 Breakfast 5:00-8:00 Exercise pass 1 8:00-12:00 Work pass 1 12:00-12:30 Lunch 12:30-14:30 School 14:30-17:30 Work pass 2 17:30-18:00 Dinner 18:00-21:00 Exercise pass 2 21:30 Lights out

He explained that my breakfast, lunch and dinner would be pre-portioned and I was required to eat all of it. The exercise passes would be lead by himself or one of the assistants. Again, I would have to follow every instruction. The work passes were done at local businesses that wanted an extra hand, and changed depending on demand. The school passes were done as a group on whatever subject Mr. Reed selected.

Next he ordered me to get naked and place all my clothes on top of my bag and move to the other side of the room. Having done so he pointed at a stack of clothes on the table and told me to pick my size and get dressed. I quickly dressed in one of the track suits from the table. There was a baseball cap also, which confused me, but was told that it was instead of sunglasses when working outdoor.

With that I was given a rule book to study and was led by an assistant to my room where a dinner was waiting. Turkey, rice, water. I was reminded of lights out at 21:30 and wake up at 4:30. The assistant left and locked the door. 10 minutes later he came back with my journal book and pen, and told me that they'll keep the rest for now.

Having eaten the dinner and having three hours (I'm almost sure 21:30 is 9:30 PM) to kill before the lights go out I'm now summarizing the day. I'm sitting in something very similar to a prison cell. Bed, toilet, sink. Everything is clean, though somewhat worn. Looking into the mirror is kind of depressing though. I look like some jailed gang member.

It's kind of weird that I haven't met any of the other inmates, sorry students, here. I saw some of them while coming in, but perhaps this is their kind of hazing, or they do an official presentation tomorrow. Anyway, I should study the rule book and go to bed, since I didn't sleep much last night.

Day 2, Tuesday

So much to write about, so little time. I might have to split this into several entries since lights out is in 20 minutes.

I was awaken at 4:30 and given a tray with a large bowl of porridge and berries and some chalky smoothie or shake or whatever to drink. After that an assistant lead me to the gym room where we went over various machines, mainly for cardio. Elliptical, bike, treadmill. Weird thing was that it was only us two in the room during all three hours.

Sweaty and a bit tired I was then taken outside to a bus where some of the other boys where chilling. Apparently everyone else had breakfast between 7 and 8. They had no idea why I didn't join them there. The bus then drove around town and the driver announced who should exit where. My group of four people exited at a farm before town, only about 5 minutes away. I don't know exactly since I haven't been given my watch back.

There we spent hours just moving hay. Don't they know about tractors? Sweaty, itchy, tired and hungry we were then picked up and driven back. At lunch was the first time I saw the real common area. To my surprise there were more boys there than had been on the bus.

Everyone else could pick what they wanted from what was served, but I was given a ready tray with an heap of salmon and pasta. I was starving though, so it wasn't a problem to eat it all. I didn't have much time to talk, but the guys at my table were nice. Somewhat rough, as could be expected. Apparently you were chosen for the different work assignments, and if you were not picked you stayed at the center for sports or craft or similar things.

After Lunch followed a session with Mr. Reed. The first boring hour was on English grammar and the second boring hour on US geography. I aced the quizz getting all 50 states and state capitols right, so I didn't learn anything new after that. Then Mr. Reed announced who had work assignments, and I was again selected.

This time I and Troy were dropped off at a different farm where we spent almost three hours helping with fencing. Mainly carry posts and sawing them to length.

For dinner I had some meatballs with roasted sweet potatoes while everyone else had meatballs with tomato sauce. Mr. Kerwin picked me up and led me to the gym. Unlike the morning session this was all about weight training. Most of it was on finding my limits for different exercises while Mr. Kerwin pointed out how I could improve my form. You could tell that this was what he liked to do, and encouraged me to push a bit further. Once we were done I had a bottle of post workout mix of some sort and a very quick shower before rushing back to my room.

Here's the thing. My room is on a different floor than the other guys. Also, my schedule appears to be different and much more rigid than the rest of the guys. I also

Day 3, Wednesday

I couldn't finish the last entry before they cut the light. My entire body is in pain right now. I woke up like that, and it didn't go away all day. Same schedule as yesterday, but different tasks and different dishes. The assistant really pushed today during the morning session, so I was exhausted already at the bus. Planting bushes at the city park all morning didn't help. I got some rest during Reeds rehash of elementary math. Then back to doing fences, and top it all off with weight training. I asked Mr. Kerwin about the schedule and why it was so different from everyone else’s. He said that everyone's schedule is individual and that he'll adjust mine as needed.

One more weird thing before I fall to sleep. Everyone else is using their normal clothes. I haven't gotten mine back yet.

Day 4, Thursday

FUCK! I was back on moving hay today again, with Sam, Trevor and Rick. I'm still hurting like hell and Rick is one lazy motherfucker, so old fart Farmer Joe decided to complain. The end result is that I am getting 2 days added for noncompliance. Sam, Trevor and Rick got nothing. WTF!

Day 5, Friday

We were carrying merchandise all morning and Troy heckled me on how I got more days because of the piece of shit Rick. But he then said that it was a weird coincidence that every work shift I've been on has been the toughest one.

Instead of going to class I met with the doctor from the hospital who made a visit. He asked me about how I felt, where I was sore etc. Then he gave me an injection which he said would ease things for me. I didn't feel much different, but I was getting really sleepy getting back to Mr. Reeds class, but it might just be that everything he did was too simple and boring.

Apparently while I had a check up Troy had shared his theory about me being a work magnet, so there were some groans from the guys placed in my group. God damn fence work again.

Man, I'm tired. I was tired even before Mr. Kerwin gave me the toughest weight pass ever. Fuck, I'm tired.

Day 6, Saturday

So the weekend schedule is different. There is still a morning work pass, basically only used by the local farmers. But the afternoon is free both on Saturdays and Sundays. Conditions and terms applies, apparently. Since I haven't done any cleaning or dishes all week (how could I?), I'm assigned washing clothes, sheets etc. Man, how much better it is to carry laundry than hay. Best job assignment all week. Lots of downtime. Only real drawback is all the humidity. It’s steamy AF here.

Still fucking 3h workout pass in the morning and evening. The other boys were pretty vocal in mocking me on my way to the gym.

Day 7, Sunday

So the day started out as any other so far. Woke up sore. Breakfast alone and 3 hour gym session. There are no work passes outside LARC on Sundays, so I was hit with cleaning, together with Kyle G. and Rick. Rick ghosted after like three minutes, but KG did a solid work. It took us all the time til lunch though to finish it.

Then my first free couple of hours all week. It’s insane. The other guys were low key avoiding me, so I did what Mr. Kerwin had suggested and had a walk in the forest. It was actually kind of nice, and for some weird reason I didn’t feel like sitting still.

Day 8, Monday

Same shit again. Mr. Kerwin gave me a shot in the arm this evening. Apparently I’ll have one each Monday from now on. Whatever.

Also I found out today that the others don’t have formal lights out. I’m on my own floor so they can lock me up and cut the power. What the fuck?

Day 9, Tuesday

That fucker Rick slacked off again, taunting me about another two days. Ha! I got 10. Mostly for kicking him in the teeth. They locked me in my room, so I had lunch there and sat in this boring ass cell during class and work. Fuck, I don’t know what’s worse. I had to do some body weight exercises to keep sane. Fuck this shit.

Back again. I still got to have my evening workout. Kerwin was pushing harder than ever. The order of exercises was different too. Apparently to make the major muscles tired so smaller muscle groups then get to work. Or something. I don’t give a shit.

Day 11, Thursday

They fucking work now, don’t they the little shits. They know I ruined someones career to get here and another one for slacking off. They better pull there weight

Day 14, Sunday

I think I’ll stick to just write on Sundays. There is only half an hour from evening gym to lights out, so there isn’t much time for writing. I’ve even skipped shower a few times. It’s not like it matters when you start every fucking day getting soaked with cardio. Not like there are any girls around to impress either. Sunday has a different vibe tho. Cleaning, running in the forest and taking a long shower.

Starts and ends with fucking gym time though.

Day 21, Sunday

I really fucking like the forest runs. Its like you don’t have to think and can just run wherever and grab whatever and smash whatever. Fucking love it

Day 28, Sunday

Yay! A full fucking month!

It’s crazy though how much stronger I’m. I have gone up one size larger track suite and 2 sizes larger sneakers. Working hard to make me the best I guess.

Day 42, Sunday

guess i forgot about writing last week. i think the monday shots make me angry or something because last week fucked up someone else on tuesday. at least they all give me fucking respect at least.

Day 92, Monday

i dont give a shit abot reeds borin ass lessons and they fuckin repeat on a loop or some shit. today he was back on gramr and the states. i most time dont fill out his shit but wanted to do it again today. fucking aced most of the states. not so good on the capitols tho

Day 203, Sunday

only 2 weeks left tomorrow lol then im gonna yeet the fuck outta here !!!! adios motherfuckas

Mr. Kerwin enters the room, carrying a folder, and walks behind his desk, not even looking at me. I am sitting in his precious fucking antique chair I pulled from the corner. He’s sitting his ass down, rifles through the papers in the folder and starts to read from one of them.

“John Hamlin agrees to 180 days of rehabilitation training at the Lepinski Adolescence Reformation Center, where he will participate in all scheduled exercises, activities, therapies, meals and medication programs, with a possible extension of 30 days for noncompliance and a possible extension of 60 days for infractions as described by the Juvenile Rehabilitation Act (JuRA), section 1103 (b).”

He looks up at me. It sounded like easy shit when I said yes to it. I thought half a year in a bad boy summer camp, or worst case something like prison, but that would have been miles better than this fucking non-stop hard labor shit. And 180 days was a fucking joke. They never fucking intended that to be the actual time. Have someone else slack off and the slap another 2 days to the time. Kick a chair to pieces, 5 days. Punch a guy for being a cunt, 10 days. I’m close to having another fucking outburst again. It must be all that fucking shit they put in the food or shakes or whatever. I fight it. I don’t want to show any emotion in front of him. I don’t think he buys my shit.

“There is another document in the agreement that you haven’t heard. This one between Mark and judge Andrews.”

He pulls out another paper from the folder and read it.

“The state hereby directs Mark Samberg, or person(s) by him so designated, to design and oversee the rehabilitation program of John Hamlin to be administrated at the Lepinski Adolescence Reformation Center. This includes physical exercises, physical therapy, education, consoling, dietary plan and medication, as long as it fulfills the positive development criteria (Appendix D), is within the available services at the Lepinski Adolescence Reformation Center (Appendix A) and within the given budget (Appendix C). Additional services require external financing and approval from the Reformation Center management (Appendix B).”

That doesn’t make any fucking sense. Why the hell had the judge put Mark in charge of my schedule? I understand why he’d want to make the experience suck as much as fucking possible for me, by why had everyone agreed to it? Kerwin looks at me as if he can read an open book.

“You are wondering what has happened to you. What was the meaning of all this? Stand up.”

I jump to my feet. There are still weeks he can add to my time here, and I don’t want to give him any fucking reason to add some shit.

“Stand with your feet as close together as you can.”

He’s never asked me to do that before. I can easily tap me feet together, but I can’t really stand still with my feet right next to each other for long. What the fuck is this bullshit? My thighs are too massive for that.

“Sit down again.”

He leans back and watches me with a bemused smirk.

“Imagine that you��d been away from swimming half a year. Even if you kept in shape it would take you months to be back in good enough technique to clear the swim team tryouts. But you have not kept in shape, have you? You have a completely new shape.”

The blood is draining from my face. I understand where this is going.

“With your upper body build you can physically really only do butterfly strokes properly, but if you can’t bring your feet together the leg kick will just be a wild thrashing of water. You swimming medley would be a hilarious joke. We haven’t even talked about you almost doubling in weight, and how much more oxygen you would need to swim. Sure, you are much stronger now, but old you would swim circles around new you. And that is of course the point. If Mark couldn’t have his sports career, he didn’t want you to have yours either. And the judge agreed.”

I’m surprised that the chair doesn’t break, as hard as I’m squeezing it. I’m boiling with fucking rage. I have to really focus to not to act on it.

“Now the judge specifically set out that this transformation couldn’t be punishment in itself, but rather that you were trained in a way that just wasn’t optimal for swimming. We may have gone a bit overboard with the body building to leave you many options though. You’ll obviously never be competitive in anything with speed or agility, like football or boxing. The metabolic conditioning, hormone treatment and gene therapy have far to long lasting effects to change you back from where you are now. You could try wrestling or weight lifting though, unless you mind showing your erection through spandex.”

“What the fuck?”, I said, as much as a general question to all the things he’d said. What does metabolic conditioning mean? Gene therapy? Erections?

“The medical regimen that Marks family found for you kind of put the feet on both the gas and the break at the same time. It forces the body to grow a lot at the same time as we try to stop it, so it has to try even harder. By injecting stem cells with the right CRISPR-modified DNA we could get rapid, major and long lasting changes. Well, I say we, but all I did was to make sure you kept to the exercise regimen, for a little cash on the side… Surely you didn’t think you got larger feet and dick from eating much and working hard?”

I don’t understand exactly what they done to me, but the result is pretty fucking clear. There was no way I would swim competitively ever again, if I could even fucking swim at all now. I would come out of here looking like a fucking balloon animal muscle jock, and shedding the muscles back to where I were would take shitloads of years.

“The hormone treatment finished two weeks ago and last blood sample shows that your natural hormone levels will keep you muscled and pumped probably well into your forties. So this morning I also cut you off from all suppressive medication as well. That is going to spike your hormone levels and mess quite a bit with you, so we need to see just how badly fucked up you are before we can release you.”

“The good doctor say that you’ll be more irritable and have more excess energy than before. Both something you can work on with regular, hard exercise. But I want to see where you really are at now, so starting today you’ll have no required gym time and labor passes. You can wake up when you want, eat what you want and do what you want.”

“You said erections?”, I asked.

“Yeah, the suppression medication should have kept you limp. You haven’t jacked off while here, have you? Well, you heard what I said about gas and break and compensation. Your body has been pumping massive amounts of hormones into your blood, and will continue to do so. But now that you don’t have the suppressives anymore you should expect to be horny for the next decade or two. You’ll be nothing but a lumbering muscle dildo.”

There’s a crack somewhere inside the wood of the armrest. Fucking fourteen more days, I have to remind myself. Don’t fuck any shit up before then. If I let go of the chair I’m quite positive I will knock him the fuck out. Fourteen fucking more shit days.

282 notes · View notes

chiimmchiimm · 5 years ago

Text

❝𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 !¡ 𝑜𝓃𝑒 ❞

CHAPTERS “ 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06 - 07 - 08 - 09 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 “

The northern jail was the most dangerous in the country, social scum, thousands of criminals were locked behind their bars. Who would tell poor Blair that he would end up there because of his father’s mistake. The problem was not the lack of hot water, but that inhuman obsession that many of the prisoners had for “new toys.” Rookies had two options; be submissive and abide by veterans’ orders or suffer the dangerous anger of those disturbed minds. It all started one night when Blair had the bad idea of going to shower alone.

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Jungkookoffender au x (female: Blair) 𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: smut.(later), offender au, fluff, angst. 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈: 5 k 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓃𝑔: +18 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: abuse, domestic violence, painful memories, sadness, psychological abuse, dirty lenjuage. 𝒜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇’𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒: This is my first novel on Tumblr, give it a lot of love and don’t forget to like it. The chapters will be uploaded weekly.

The sun dazzled much more that morning, its blinding light sneaked through the slits of the shutters halfway down giving a much more welcoming look to the living room of my parents’ house. Sitting on that white velvet sofa with a relatively steaming decaffeinated coffee on the side table. With my cheek resting heavily against the median kneecap to rest my head. The television broadcast the morning news of each day. It was the same as always; juicy gossip of some famous, unfortunate catastrophes about a natural disaster, exhaustively ridiculous scandals about some imprudent action of some human being.I got up ready to turn off that silly box that the only thing that could grant me was useless, but suddenly, photo information My father came out on the front page. My phone started ringing incessantly but I couldn’t stop staring at the screen with my mouth open when the journalist started listing all the charges that came related to our last name. I even covered my shocked mouth when a family photo appeared behind the woman. One where we all went out; Mom, he and me Mom wore a forced smile under her sad and dull eyes, my father’s hand wrapped her small waist with love, a feeling that only showed us when someone was present. A smaller me hooked on my father’s long neck with a brightly fierce emotion while teaching the few teeth he had back then. A sarcastic smile appeared early under my lips because that was the day I received my first slap.

As the stormy rains on cold winter days my life always revolved around the same routine. My father attended important events and my mother and I accompanied him to maintain his elitist family profile. However, it all ended when I turned eighteen. I put an endless number of excuses so as not to have to face those humiliating talks about the lowest society. I know my father didn’t believe me, of course, he can’t hurt my head every Friday at the same time. My mother always helped me and in the end, I got what I wanted; get away from him. The relationship with my father was never affectionate and that remains unchanged now in my twenties. Instead, a small part of me wanted to go to those extravagant meetings, not because of the chatter with those insipid people, but, for not leaving my mother alone who knew that they were not to her liking either. Still with her layers of makeup my mother could not cover the tracks that my father left on her delicate skin; the bruises, bruises, breaks … His overthrown gaze was the last thing I saw before falling asleep every night. I can never erase the time he hugged me so hard that my breath left my system, I knew from his trembling, that my father had unloaded his business failure with her.

“I left.” I whispered with my mouth against the cold surface of her skin. His arms dropped slowly when I separated from her. My tone was decisive, decisive, so that I understood that I was not talking about a simple possibility, but a solution. “You don’t deserve a son of a bitch to fuck you every night.”

But as expected, my mother ducked her head. And I knew that I shied away from my penetrating gaze because I knew that deep down I was right.

He took a long breath and then answered what I was so afraid of; “Everything I do is for you.”

I did not open my mouth again all night, just lend him my back to release his helplessness with continuous crying. He understood why he did it but did not support it. I know that he wanted to give me the best education and the best luxuries, but at what price? I would gladly give up all the comforts that had been given to me as long as his suffering ended. But I knew that I was a motive but not the most relevant. My father was. I know I was afraid of him and that he justified every abuse with all kinds of inconceivable excuses. And for that crude reason, my mother always ended up being dragged by my father.

What I never thought, is that, I would also be dragged by him.

“Are you aware that you face a penalty of seven years and two months in prison?”

Everything happened so fast, that man spoke so fast. I was barely aware of the sporadic overturn that I had just given my life. And he regretted not having tasted that coffee better because from the face of that man he could deduce that it would be the last one he would drink in a long time. The prosecutor leaned a hand on the table in the interrogation room to get my attention, but the only thing he looked at was the bumps on the bricks of the white wall. The tears gathered in my eyes. The low fluidity of my breathing. And the dolls burned by the touch of the cold metal of the wives. I couldn’t even understand lucidly if he said anything else or it was just pure invention of my mind. The whitish light that came from the laminated ceiling lamps produced a frightening buzz that, to my bad luck, blocked all the orders of my central nervous system, keeping me completely stretched in a chair that, however uncomfortable, was much better than the filthy bed of The dungeons What did he want me to tell him what was innocent? He had already repeated it to satiety and seemed not to care in the least, even, I was able to absorb an improper satisfaction of a good lawyer when hearing the judge’s sentence.

Emphasizing time again, everything happened too quickly, so much that I could barely be aware that my feet were directing my body towards an unknown room. When my watery eyes read inmates I could be aware, again, of how much life could change in a matter of seconds.

“Turn it off as soon as possible and memorize the pin well, you may not remember in seven years.”

Look closely as my phone offered. However, the blow of the white tray against the table made me divert attention to the tattooed girl behind the counter. A girl with bluish hair that carefully removed the clothes while playing with a pen balancing it inside her mouth. A tap on my abdomen made me regain my composure. When I accepted my phone back I turned it off and gave it to the governor.

“Look, all size 38, okay?” And there are six complete molts included. ”The blue hair announced, making a small pout with her lips. I lift a small transparent plastic bag while showing me one by one the garments that would be my wardrobe from now on. I had changed my channel suits and my row tracksuits for a yellow jacket and pants of the same color. But without a doubt, what caught my attention was the white clothes that were in another bag.

“Hey, I brought my own underwear.” The ruler observed me immediately. “I have sensitive skin.”

The girl stopped moving things to lift her head and stare at me. Blue — since his hair wore that vivid color and he didn’t know his name. ”He intensified a line with his lips as he tightened all the features of his face. He looked at me as if he had said the worst atrocity in the world. And I certainly did not understand why he was so serious when he had said nothing wrong. It was not my fault that my skin did not support polyester, if someone wanted to blame it, then it is my strange allergy to poor quality materials. One that left me full of small red spots along my entire epidermis and an unbearable itching for three days.

“Well,_ Barbie_, we’re all the same here.” He commented mockingly. I frowned at her derogatory nickname, however, I couldn’t protest because at the moment the ruler broke into our little discussion, if we refer to her as an eloquent little talk in which I have been left as a weak and silly girl who has been belittled and he has not had the courage to defend himself.

“What is this?”

By the time I wanted to realize what was happening I already had the bottle of my vitamins being opened by the long fingers of that woman. I reacted immediately with a babble that all I reflected was how much that shit situation could.

“No, no, that’s not a drug. It’s nothing weird, it’s just royal jelly.” As I was speaking the words piled up under my tongue and my trembling made the language come out much less fluently than I expected. However, the governor raised her eyebrows as if my version of the echos was not given as true. On the other hand, blue was making fun of my nerves again with a low smile that hid while scratching her bulging hair. I felt the need to explain myself again and I did so; “It is to reinforce defenses.”

“Forty pills?” He asked so wryly that question that I was speechless. I moved, to the laugh of blue that increased my beginner’s nerves. “What will you do when they run out?”

“Man, I expected to be out when that will happen.”

But my answer falls like a vol of cold water. Then, I realize that I thought out loud. And that blue has not stopped laughing at any moment of my blunder and that now has made his laugh level up. I don’t know what I have to say to fix things, because I literally just expressed my wishes to get out of here, however, I don’t see anything wrong with that but apparently she does resent my sincerity. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be in this crappy place and endure the laughter of a criminal who does nothing but make fun of me.

For my luck, everything is there. In a little anecdote that will happen to the most shameful periods of my existence.

I pick up the tray with disgust because it didn’t look like it but it has its weight and I walk down a corridor that only leads in one direction. First, the governor enters and then I do it. I thank you ironically for the galantia of holding the door while I eat the stiffness of the glass with my mouth.

“Put the clothes on that tray when you’re done and make sure you don’t keep anything.”

Seat. Really, he won nothing by arguing with a woman who is in sight that has a character of a thousand demons. Better keep quiet and follow your orders as fast as I can. I have to change in front of her. And I thank heaven that she is a woman and not a man because she certainly would not have been able to stay naked in front of the opposite gender. Then, I move again to a room that was next to the old one to go through a metal detector machine. As you can see I don’t wear anything, he relaxes in a padlocked sigh. Poor woman, I have a feeling that you don’t usually pay much attention here. Finally, I understood that my little excursion is over when I have in front of me the automatic doors that would open my module.

Then, the governor turns to a guard who appears behind a counter.

“Open the door, I bring the new one.”

The girl presses a button and the metal doors open. The governor shakes her head to tell me to go ahead. Breathing a sigh from my own emotional instability, I shake my shoulders and walk right. However, when I hear the fortuitous noises of things being hit against the metal I remain planted on the site which causes the government to almost clash with me.

“What do you think you are doing?” “Is he not listening to the hustle and bustle that prisoners are riding?

“I can’t.” I deny uncontrollably, to the point, of almost injuring my neck when I turn from side to side. The governor places her hands at each end of her hip while looking at me with obvious discomfort. “Please.”

But my plea seems to fill his patience and the only thing that I achieve with my actions is that I push myself sharply and fall face down on the ground. And then, chaos breaks loose. The blows increase in level. I do not even look at the grotesque spectacle of which my ears are witnesses because in the story I wake up I try to run away backwards but collide with the governor and I almost fall again.

“Do you want to be still, fuck?”

“I’m innocent …” he said for the twentieth time in the day.

“Pick up the floor tray and move on.” - order. I withdraw what has been said above, this lady is a witch. He gives a fuck that he is giving me a little anxiety attack. I make sure of it when I narrow my eyes. He is throwing small threats with his gestures and I have no choice but to pick up the forgotten tray on the floor.

“Newbie!” You eat rabbit tonight.

He ducked his head and keep going.

“Go here, rule!”

-Pretty! Hey you!

I decipher a shout through the crowd and instantly regret having done it. And much more to divert the head towards the alleged culprit because the first thing my eyes see is a woman shaved and tattooed to the neck making with her fingers the shape of a vagina and passing the tongue in between. The one next to him laughs at the terrified reaction I do. I quickly simulate an arcade frightened by that grotesque insinuation.

But the worst was yet to come.

-Brunette! I’m going to give you until I’m dry!

“What a gift from Santa Claus!”

He panicked.

The governor stretches again because I have stopped again. Then, I raise my head and look at the top railings. My eyeballs widen to the point of almost leaving the site. I drop my tray when I see the stacked row of sweaty bodies controlled by testosterone looking at me directly. Their dirty and perverse glances cover the little skin that leaves prison clothes in sight. By instinct I hug myself but I can’t get the anguish to go away. When the governor who is behind me realizes that I have stayed at the site of disgust, she pushes me slightly forward to finish climbing the stairs.

“I would like to be a sardine to swim in your vagina!”

“Cell 345!”

I don’t even know who said that because my head didn’t lift it from the ground at any time. The incessant compliments do not stop disturbing my auditory ducts as I go up the steps. For a moment, I think I hear the government’s sigh but I am not sure if it was his or mine because I could barely distinguish another sound other than the bellowing of those disgusting men. Their throats were torn by the volume so high that they used to get my attention, what they did not know, that this was not the first time that he faced this type of situation and that he would not fall for his provocations. Therefore, when I thought I could worthy of raising my head I could realize that my luck had just taken a wonderful course because I was facing the opposite direction of that tangle of apes in heat.

The governor took out an orange card and passed through the magnetic sensor of the door. The noise of that steel structure stimulated my blood velocity and that my eyes responded by closing tightly. With nerves accumulating in the small lump of my throat I took the first step towards those four walls that would now be my home.

A dark-haired girl under the bed as soon as I set foot in the small cell. But he didn’t look at me, but at the ruler.

“Boss, there must have been a mistake.” The rookie goes in another cell here we are complete. ”He explained, pausing the tone of his voice to give it a much deeper touch. What gave me the most curiosity about his vocal bell was that he was adorned with the typical accent of foreigners. The white-skinned girl stood in front of me to cut my step while pointing her finger back. Her black straight hair covered her cheeks slightly while she covered her shoulders with neglect. He had long legs and thin arms under the sleeves of the yellow jacket. Small and thin lips, and a feline look that left me blank when I looked at myself for two seconds. My arms trembled unconsciously because I could perfectly perceive a warning glow.

—Blair London is assigned to this cell. Come London leave your stuff on that shelf and make your bed.

“Still rookie.”

When I took a step that girl got in my way.

“Do what I told you, London.”

“Do not do it.”

“Do it.”

“No.”

“Do it London.”

“No,” he whispered in such a dark tone that a paralyzing chill caressed my back.

I instinctively shrunk my body when that girl spit her breath over my face. Swallow nervous saliva, an act that did not go unnoticed by her. A small macabre smile greeted his features when he felt the tremor of my fingers holding the tray. I counted mentally to slow my shortness of breath but all I could get was to get his attention more.

“Do you think that because we let you smoke in here, you’re going to do whatever you want?”

When the authoritarian voice of the governor reached my ears, my back slumped forward. The palms of my hands began to sweat and my mood deteriorated at times. At this point it didn’t matter if I hid my stress because it was no longer a viable option.

“I’m just informing the module manager that we’re very tight here and if one more inmate comes in, maybe she has to sleep on the floor.” Yes or no, girls?

As he leaned to the side to see the governor directly, I could see what was behind her. Two more girls inhabited the room. One of them with much longer and darker hair was placed behind her to support what she said. The other, almost white hair and extremely white skin, sobbed and trembled almost as much as I did while swaying on the mattress with a rosary sticking out of her thin fingers. The first, nodded in a gesture of security while the other prayed in low whispers. When he saw that he was saying nothing he approached and hit him in the head.

“Answer the hell!”

“Yes-yes.” I stutter exaggeratedly. I separate her head from her shoulders and when I look at her cellmates I can see two superficial cuts, one on her lower lip and the other on her left cheek. What the fuck had they done? Really, he looked like a scared little animal about to be hunted. I felt so bad for that girl. My empathy had caused me to give him a look full of sadness.

“I’ll take the new one so you don’t make her life bitter.” The governor informed her, snapping her tongue as she gave a sideways glance at the Asian girl. However, when I thought I could finally run away from that awkward situation, the governor ended the encounter with a warning; - You think you have everything under Akame control but be very careful.— Then, I touch my shoulder to drag myself out of the cell.

“Why don’t you look at your phone, govern?” And then we talk about who’s in charge here and who has to be careful.

The woman deformed her expression to a calmer one as if those words had not affected her. But both the dark-haired girl and I knew that they had done it, and maybe for that reason, I didn’t even answer him and he took me out of there as fast as he could. Should I thank you for getting me out of that place? Definitely yes.

But before I finished showing my thanks, a tall, dark young man passed by our side. His presence seemed to startle her so much that she almost collided with me. Then he watched me a few seconds before calling the guard.

“Garcia.”

The boy turned.

“Can you take the new one to his cell?” The brunette nodded. “I don’t find myself well.

“Clear.”

The governor handed him the folder with my personal data and shot out down the hall as if an important matter was waiting for him. Would it have to do with the threat of that girl? Something told me yes.

We did not walk much, we passed two cells and stood in the third. Again, panic began to cloud my system. The air to miss me. And my knees to shake getting my balance was required immediately not to fall. I didn’t want to find another one like that girl. Was it that there was no one normal in this prison shit? All of a sudden, my nerves played tricks on me because my mouth opened to confess what I had been keeping since I crossed the courthouse door.

“I can’t.” I ran over.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I need to see a doctor.”

I don’t know if it sounded too exaggerated but I definitely didn’t want to get in there.

“Do you have tremors? Blurry vision? Dizziness Cramps? Chest pain?″

"Em, no.” I blinked as I lost myself among so many symptoms.

“Well, then nothing happens to you.” Not caring about my facial pallor, he swiped his orange card through the sensor and again, my eyes closed at the squeak of the door. He held the folder against his chest and said, “Blair London.Cell two twenty five.”

Any motor movement that my body could make seemed to have left my head. My quick breathing lifted my chest at an excessive rate denoting on the front page how nervous I was to find myself again. I took the first step into the cell. A girl of short and slender stature rose up from her bed, drawing the attention of the other two. He removed his short tinted hair from a light brown back as he glanced at his companions. A middle-aged woman who put her hand on her left leg while leaning towards my paralyzed figure examining me with curiosity and another girl with extremely pale skin much younger than the two previously mentioned behind the main culprit of my partial blush of cheeks. The aftertaste of my saliva was bitter from so many chills that ran through my little body. Too overwhelming pressure seized the area near my stomach when the bars of the cell covered the door leaving me without escape. Locked up with those three women. And above all, locked in my desperate destiny.

"I am Dallas.”

I jumped a little when I returned to my horrible reality. The low voice of that girl woke me up completely. He stretched his hand politely towards me while he leaned slightly and smiled as if we were two friends and not two inmates of the worst prison in Los Angeles. No doubt that girl was too confident. But, nevertheless, his singular sympathy for strangers was something that I sincerely thanked. I finally accepted his hand and although I could not return a smile for my state away from joy, at least, stimulate a small grimace under my dry lips.

“I am Blair, delighted.” I said, controlling the small tremor in my voice thanks to the timely appearance of my self-control. Finally, I could smile. I leaned uncomfortably towards her cheek to kiss her kindly, Dallas understood my action and we ended up giving two cheek kisses as a way of civilized greeting. The air came out of my mouth unconsciously to calm the nervous spasms I still suffered from the two pairs of eyes that saw the scene from a distance.

The second to speak was the oldest of the four.

“Where are you from, my girl?”

“From here, from Los Angeles.”

But the child’s sudden laughter stopped my response.

“No, why are you here?” He replied, pausing the space of the words he spoke. The mockery danced for her serene features, clearly, emphasizing my poor understanding. His hands flew into his pockets, dragging the fabric of his yellowish pants. His shirt ran down. The mark of his bony clavicle denoted how much he lacked a good diet. She was extremely thin compared to the weight she should have with her height. I tilt his thin leg to support his body while sweeping my perfectly buttoned shirt.

“Ah.” I issued the monosyllable with caution. “I really shouldn’t be here.” I am here for a mistake.

“And how many years have you fallen for the mistake?” Dallas asked as she adjusted the jacket of her uniform to her liking. Glancing under the eyes of complices with the smallest in his enjoyment for making me feel uncomfortable.

“Seven.” I murmured under my breath. My body shrank because the teasing did not take long to appear. Making such a big scandal that the guard soon appeared to get our attention with some blows on the bars. I was upset, however, not surprised. Neither the judge nor the ruler had believed in my innocence, did I really think they would be different? I should get used to the teasing since it seemed to be his favorite hobby. I headed for the only empty bed in that small cell. Through that tide of laughter and groans that cause my internal discomfort. I thought it was best to ignore them and I did that while I stretched the sheets.

“Do you want to keep laughing in isolation, June?” The guard’s authoritative voice appeared behind them. His warning to the smallest had been like the extinguisher that turned off his fun.

“You are very bitter, Garcia.”

Immediately, Liberty seconded his mischief.

“This is what you need is a good dust, Dallas.”

“That you be silent!”

He gave another blow as a warning resulting in the two friends separating. Liberty raised her arms signing the peace. The youngest, just climbed on the bed above mine and jumped down.

“Get in bed and sleep, mommy.”

I watched in a flash as the woman’s hand rested on my shoulder. His hand adorned with slight wrinkles and small skin spots had been the closest thing to human contact he had had in hours. And even if we were unknown, I was able to spot some tenderness in his touch. As if his words were not an order, if not, an advice that I should follow for my good. The woman had a very intense green-eyed look. There was something in those lifeless pupils that told me that I had suffered a lot in life. And for a few seconds, that woman reminded me of my mother.

“Thank you but … I don’t think I can sleep.” I confessed, undoing my usual hue at a lower one.

The heat of my shoulder disappeared when he removed his hand and turned around. A bleak emptiness stifled my body after lack of contact. I lay down slowly on the mattress while following the woman’s movement carefully. When he finished going to bed, he looked at me one last time and sighed. As if guessing all the problems that crossed my mind.

“The first night is the most difficult. If you can’t sleep, talk to God, he always listens to us.”

A bitter smile crossed my lips when the woman turned her back on me. I didn’t want to be rude and much less after he had treated me so well, for that very reason I kept quiet. I crossed my fingers over my stomach but comfort was not something I felt at that moment. I closed my eyes for several minutes to see if the dream was beating my anguish but the only thing I got was to overwhelm myself under the covers. I removed my body until I lay on my side. When my eyes met the white wall it was as if everything would make sense. It filled my mouth saying that this shit had been a mistake. But deep down I understood the mockery of that pale girl. And if you look at it from another perspective it was quite pathetic. I could say all that convinced but that didn’t make it easier. I knew that my father had screwed up my life and that as much as the woman told me that praying would help solve my problems, I made another crude excuse for not accepting reality.

The lack of weight from the mattress above distracted my hypnosis with the wall. When I turned my body slightly I could see through the little clarity that Dallas had come down from his bed. How I was covered up to the nose I could see the scene before me without realizing that I was still awake. He reached out and with the tip of his finger pressed the button on the bars. Out of nowhere a much taller figure appeared and Dallas threw forward enthusiastically. The last thing I saw before they left was a tattoo of a small heart on the wrist of the tallest.

✞

107 notes · View notes

eilonwiiy · 5 years ago

Text

Bookends ; A Witchlands AU

Chapter 6

Iseult and Aeduan cross paths and test the limits of social anxiety...

Summary: Iseult det Midenzi never expected to go to a top university, so when her mother falls ill and she is forced to drop out to make ends meet, life has never seemed so unfair. But when she starts working at the local library and is unexpectedly assigned in the Children’s Room, a certain monosyllabic man and his thrice-damned demon child start showing up and Iseult begins to wonder if the threads of fate have a plan for her after all.

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Ships: Iseult/Aeduan, Safi/Merik, and more… stay tuned!

Tags: modern AU, college setting, family, friendship, humor, fluff, slow-burn, romance, eventual smut

Read on AO3: here

Tag list: (please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @lseultdetmidenzi @twilightlegacy13

* . * . * . * .

4 days had passed and still Evrane had not called.

Friday afternoon found Aeduan parked outside Cora and Lisbet’s school in his car, fingers drumming restlessly across the steering wheel. His phone was stashed away in his pocket, practically burning a hole through his pants for all its temptation. Twice he had almost ripped the damn thing out and made the call to Evrane. Twice he’d thought better of it.

She said she’d call him with her schedule. He wasn’t about to waste his time hunting her down.

A disgruntled noise from the backseat made Aeduan look over his shoulder.

Owl blinked sleepily at him from her car seat, bottom lip puffed out and pouty. She looked more like a puffy pink marshmallow crammed into a much too small space, the shiny nylon material of her winter coat spilling out from underneath the tightly drawn straps holding her hostage. She hated the contraption almost as much as Aeduan. He had taken down 400 lb men high on coke in less time than it took him to wrangle Owl into the damn thing. At least now she didn’t kick and scream.

“Not much longer,” Aeduan told her, checking at the clock on the dashboard.

They’d fallen into a comfortable routine on the weekends. On Friday afternoons, Aeduan, along with Owl, would drive up to Ponzin and pick up the two sleepover bags Ragnor left for Aeduan on the porch of his childhood home. Then, they would head over to Lisbet and Cora’s school and camp out there until the bell rang.

Today had gone the same as usual, except Aeduan had added one extra pit stop along the way: Jitters.

Aeduan took a sip from his lukewarm coffee, watching the regular crossguard unpack his gear from his van. He hadn’t planned on going back to the coffee shop, especially after how irritating his experience with that inept barista had been. But from the moment he woke up, he found himself craving the coffee’s smooth, rich taste.

Fortunately, the girl wasn’t working. He’d been able to purchase his coffee and a muffin to split with Owl in peace.

Outside, the crossguard unfolded a flimsy collapsible chair by the crosswalk and settled down into it with his stop sign resting across his lap. He was an older man, with wispy white hair tucked underneath a faded red baseball cap and wore wire-rimmed glasses. The moment he relaxed in the chair, his head turned towards Aeduan’s parked car. He nodded in greeting and Aeduan nodded back. It was their thing.

Aeduan was so used to people avoiding him when he was in uniform that such a small, customary gesture was unnerving. He was still getting used to it. Sometimes he forgot he wasn’t wearing it anymore. Or carrying a gun. Not that he needed one to be scary. There were plenty of inmates who could testify to that.

The unmistakable sound of a bell announcing the end of the school day rang in the distance. Soon enough kids would be pouring out the doors. It would be some time before Lisbet and Cora would be out though. Aeduan knew by now that Lisebt liked to chat with her teachers after class, ask any one of the dozen follow-up questions she always had about the lesson or go over a problem she got wrong on the previous night’s homework. Aeduan loved that about her. And Cora would wait dutifully by the door until she was ready. He loved that too.

Aeduan continued to rap his fingers on the steering wheel as he watched the crossing guard guide the first and most eager to start their weekend group of kids across the street. Aeduan’s attention stayed with one boy about Cora’s age, around 6 or 7, who broke off from the group, hustling as fast as his little feet could take him. Waiting for him outside a car was a man, presumably his father, and when the boy got to him, he jumped into his arms, backpack and all. The man held him tight and pressed a kiss to his cheek before setting him down and ushering him into the backseat of his car while the kid started jabbering away.

His coffee was down to its very last dregs, but Aeduan took an absent sip from the cup anyway, staring hard at the dad tossing the kid’s backpack in the trunk and closing it shut, all the while the boy had his head poked outside the open window and was still talking animatedly as if he couldn’t wait the 5 seconds it would take for his dad to get into the car.

Aeduan remembered when Ragnor used to surprise him after school to pick him up in his patrol car. Such a spectacle. All the other kids would watch in envious fascination as Aeduan ran to the man in the intimidating uniform waiting by super cool sleek car with the silently flashing lights that he put on just for his son. They’d hover around the car, asking all sorts of questions and beg to hear the siren, to which the police officer would oblige to much cheering. Only when the young pretty school teacher caught up to the boy and slipped into the arms of the man to kiss him would the children scatter.

Aeduan never understood why Ragnor had pushed so hard for Cora and Lisbet to go to Covent Academy. He had stopped coming when Aeduan was ten.

Without much warning, Aeduan slapped his hand down on the steering wheel, and Owl, who had been close to falling asleep, jerked awake confused. Aeduan shook his head, furious with himself for what he was about to do, but he couldn’t stop himself. Something about seeing that little boy outside with his father flicked a switch in him, and he shifted jerkily in his seat to gain access to the phone in his back pocket. When he’d freed it, he didn’t give himself a second to think about it. He swiped open his phone and pressed call on his most recent contact.

“Hello,” a melodious voice said from the other end.

“Why haven’t you called me back?” Aeduan demanded.

There was a pause. “Aeduan. How... unexpected.”

“Unexpected?” Aeduan repeated in a barely controlled growl. “Have you already forgotten our agreement?”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten.” The words were spoken slowly and calmly. There was no defensive edge to them. That only spurred Aeduan on.

“Then why haven’t you called? You said you would look over your schedule and get back to me.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Evrane mused lightly. The casual observation scraped over Aeduan’s tightly-wound nerves. “Well, now that you have me, why don’t you and Owl come in on Monday?”

“Monday,” Aeduan deadpanned. “That’s it? You don’t need to look over your schedule?” He expelled a bitter breath. “What, were you just waiting for me to call you?”

Silence answered him, and somehow Aeduan knew Evrane was smiling. He exhaled deeply.

“You were waiting for me to call you,” he said again, resigned to the truth. But his anger could only be kept at bay for so long, and with a surge of resentful understanding he bit out, “A test.”

“Aeduan,” Evrane said, his name sounding sad on her tongue. “If Owl is to be your child, she needs to be your priority. Always. You can’t wait around for others to cater to her needs. And you certainly can’t let your pride get in the way of doing what’s in her best interest. I didn’t mean for this to be a test. I- ” She cut herself off as though afraid to continue. Aeduan’s ears latched on to the silence hovering on the other end of the line, overly aware of his heart beating against his ribs. “I want to help Owl, Aeduan. But I can’t do that if you don’t trust me. Owl’s issues are now your issues. You’re just as much a part of this agreement as she is. I know this isn’t easy for you, but maybe… maybe it’s not so easy for me too. I never thought I’d get a second chance to help you.”

Aeduan shook his head, looking down at his lap, thankful that she couldn’t see him. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he murmured. He recognized the irony in saying that possibly to the one person responsible for saving his life. Perhaps Evrane heard it too because she chuckled a second later, a watery sound that broke Aeduan’s heart.

“You’ve made it this far, haven’t you?”

Something that might have been laugh escaped Aeduan’s throat. “No thanks to you.”

There was that silent smile again. “Enjoy your weekend with the girls. I’ll see you and Owl on Monday.” And with that Evrane hung up.

Aeduan lifted his head and checked his rearview mirror; Owl was watching him curiously as though to ask if he was alright. He gave her a tired smile.

If Owl is to be your child…

If he was going to be a father. That’s what Evrane really had wanted to say. And she was right. About everything, of course. Aeduan wasn’t an idiot. He could be stubborn as all hell, be disagreeable to even the most patient of people, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew when he was in the right and he knew when he was in the wrong, and perhaps the worst thing worth knowing was that he had been wrong on all counts when it came to Evrane.

He’d have to try harder. For Owl. For his-

He couldn’t even say the word. She wasn’t his anything. Not yet.

The school lawn was littered with children now. After about ten more minutes, the front doors opened again and both Lisbet and Cora appeared. With a sharp pang of realization, Aeduan recognized Sister Nadya in the doorway behind them and watched as she waved goodbye to the girls. He forced himself to tear his eyes away from her kind smile, discernible even from such a distance, and focused on the two dark-haired girls coming towards him, the smaller of the two rushing ahead of the taller, more subdued one. Aeduan undid his seatbelt and quickly checked that no other cars were driving by before opening the car door.

“Slow down, Cora,” he called as he walked around to the sidewalk. “It’s still icy.”

“The snow is almost all gone,” Cora huffed between pants, slowing down as she got closer to Aeduan. She was so small and the enormous backpack hanging from her shoulders looked almost comical.

“Still.” Aeduan knelt down on one knee as Cora skidded to a halt in front of him and threw herself into his arms. When she eventually pulled back, he perused her up and down. “Where’s your coat?

Cora jutted her thumb over her shoulder. “In my backpack.”

“Wouldn’t it be more useful on you?”

Cora shrugged. Lisbet came shuffling up behind her and Aeduan straightened up from the ground. She, at least, was wearing her coat.

“Hey,” he said, pulling her into his side with one arm, while his other hand became occupied with Cora’s little fingers. “How was school?”

“Good,” she said, and smiling shyly she added, “I got a 105 on my math test.” The statement wasn’t at all boastful or fishing for recognition. Even as she said it, her expression was small and subdued.

Cora gawped at Lisbet while Aeduan pulled her in closer. “How is that possible, Aedie? I thought 100 was the highest grade!”

“There was a bonus question,” Lisbet explained. “Sometimes teachers add them to give students a chance at extra points. Usually they’re harder than the rest of the test, but they can really help you out if you’ve messed up on other questions.”

Cora’s eyes widened. “And you got it right?”

“Yep,” Lisbet nodded and Cora let out another hushed Wow.

“Good work, Lis,” Aeduan congratulated, giving her shoulder an extra squeeze. Her gray eyes sparkled up at him as she gave in to a proud smile.

“Aedie,” Cora chirruped, tugging at his hand. “I wrote a book today!”

“You did?” he said, being sure to give her his full attention. “What’s it about?”

“It’s about a girl who becomes friends with a bird and he leads her on a magical quest and then they meet a troll who tries to kill them, but he’s not really a bad guy and is just really sad and then... ”

Cora was practically dancing circles around him with excitement as she prattled on and on about her story. “That sounds like quite a tale,” Aeduan finally managed to slip in when she eventually needed to take a breath. “Why don’t we read it tonight before bed? How’s that sound? But, c’mon, let’s get going. Owl’s waiting. You can tell me more about it on the way home.”

The girls nodded and handed Aeduan their backpacks to store in the trunk while they piled inside the car. Once Aeduan shut his car door and buckled up, he twisted his head over his shoulder to look at all three of his girls.

Owl sat in between Cora and Lisbet in the middle strapped into her car seat and looked utterly miserable. Her arms and legs sat limp in total defeat. Oh yes, an extra long nap was in order the second they got home.

His sisters liked Owl. There hadn’t been any misgivings on their end when he sat them down and explained to them what his hopeful plans for Owl were. He hadn’t expected anything different. He knew their hearts and knew they would accept her as a part of their family just as he had done with them 10 years ago.

Owl, on the other hand, had been less than thrilled about the two unexpected additions to her new family, and little had changed since then. It had become blatantly clear that it was not Owl who had to prove herself worthy of Cora and Lisbet’s love, but the other way around.

The girls never complained though, for which, Aeduan was grateful. Cora was sure to read to Owl her story the moment they got home (whether she was interested in hearing it or not) and Lisebt would no doubt help Aeduan make dinner and take care to do little things like chop up Owl’s food into smaller pieces and refill her sippy cup even if it wasn’t entirely empty yet.

“Everyone buckled up?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Cora, who had a tendency to put her belt strap behind her back.

“Yes,” they answered in unison. Owl’s scowl deepened. His angry puffy marshmallow.

“Alright then,” Aeduan said, turning to the steering wheel and starting the car. “Let’s hear more about this story, Cora.”

* . * . * . * .

“Thanks again for doing this. You have my unending gratitude.”

Ryber Fortiza stood at Iseult’s desk on Monday afternoon, a stack of books towering between them. A week had gone by since she started working in the Children’s Room and Ryber’s books had finally arrived.

“It was no trouble at all,” Iseult told her. “I’m just glad you were able to get enough copies in time. Eridysi Goechenka is still in high demand, if you can believe it.”

“Oh I believe it,” said Ryber. “She’s one of my favorite authors. I’ve read all her works. This,” she gestured proudly to the tower of books, “is my way of plaguing my obsession onto everyone else.”

Iseult eyed the top of the stack and the silver foiled words carved into the book’s worn cover. Sisters of Sight. She picked it up fondly.

“You picked a good one. They’re all good, but this is a classic.”

Ryber’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve read it then?”

Iseult nodded. “Only a dozen times.” Ryber smiled at that, and the sight of it, all teeth and no reservation, made Iseult feel more intrepid. “I’m actually in the process of trying to collect all of her published works. It’s kind of a mini project of mine. It’s hard though. Some of her more obscure books are out of print. Things written earlier in her career before she became well-known.”

Ryber heaved a sigh of dismay. “Why do they do that?”

Iseult knew who ‘they’ were. Publishers. She shook her head solemnly. “I don’t know. It breaks my heart… Words that will never see the light of day all because publishers don’t think there’s a market for it.”

“You would think that with her death they’d want to capitalize on that. Also, awful,” Ryber added with a disgusted grimace to Iseult. Iseult nodded in agreement.

“It’s a shame. I bet she has so much more to say, even though she’s not here...” Iseult trailed off. She sighed and returned Sisters of Sight on top of the stack of books. “The director of this library told me that she has a first edition of The Raider King buried somewhere in her attic. She said she’d bring it in when she found it.”

Ryber’s eyes, more grey than blue, widened. “Seriously? That’s insane!”

“I can text you if she ever finds it.”

“Yes, please! Jeez, why on earth would she keep it packed away in an attic?” Ryber looked positively baffled by Evrane’s life decisions. “I bet it’s worth a lot of money. Not that I would ever sell it if it were mine,” she added hastily, as though reading Iseult’s mind. Even now, with her funds dwindling by the day, she’d never be able to part with such a treasure.

“I’ll let you know,” Iseult assured her as Ryber pulled the mountain of books across the desk and strategically lifted them into her arms. The tower wobbled precariously against her chest. “You’re not walking home with that, are you?” she asked cautiously as Ryber braced the top of the stack with her chin.

“Nope,” she replied with a shaky laugh and she tried to take a step without causing the books to come tumbling down. “My boyfriend is picking me up.”

“Good.” Even though Ryber looked ridiculous, Iseult’s cool expression never wavered. Safi would be rolling around on the floor by now. When Ryber was halfway to the door, she tried looking over her shoulder back at Iseult, but with a glance at the books in her arms, thought better of it.

“You’re going to come to book club, right?” she called softly so as to not disturb anyone else in the Children’s Room. “You and Safi?”

Iseult’s nose twitched and she pressed her lips together. She was glad Ryber wasn’t able to see her. “I don’t know. Safi isn’t much of a reader.”

“Oh don’t worry about that! Kullen always drags his roommate into our meetings since he lives there, and he almost always never reads the book. It’ll still be fun.”

“I- I’ll have to check my work schedule. Safi’s too.”

“Great,” Ryber said, sounding so genuinely pleased, Iseult felt terrible about the story already materializing in her head that she could use to get out it. “It’s on a Friday night, so at least there’s no classes to worry about. Unless you’re one of those weird people who elected to take a night class.”

“I’m not.” Guilt twisted into regret. Even without her made up story, she was already a liar. She’d have to tell Ryber eventually that she’d dropped out of school. If not now, then definitely before the book club. Better to come clean to one person about being a failure than to a whole room of strangers.

“Perfect.” By now Ryber had made it to the door. This time when she spoke, she managed to turn and face Iseult. The stack of books was still propped under her chin. “I forgot to ask, how’s everything going here?”

Iseult opened her mouth to answer, but just then, a figure appeared in the doorway, looming behind Ryber. Cropped dark hair, leather jacket, sparkling blue eyes.

Aeduan.

He marched around Ryber, barely giving her or the stack of books in her straining arms a second’s glance.

“Good,” Iseult somehow managed to respond after finding her breath. “Everything’s good here.”

That was about to change, judging by the dark gaze fixed on her as Aeduan stalked towards her, which was a shame because things really were going better than they had when she first started over a week ago. Her lungs contracted uncomfortably. He didn’t look happy.

Ryber seemed to understand that their conversation was over. Unable to wave or move her head, she shot Iseult a parting glance and strained smile, possibly hoping to convey something along the lines of, Good luck! Hope he doesn’t eat you for lunch!

When Aeduan reached the desk, he slapped an envelope down between them like he was throwing down a gauntlet.

“I’d like to get a library card.”

The words were as cold as his eyes. Not daring to risk stuttering in front of him, Iseult swallowed and reached for the envelope. She peeled open the slip of paper and pulled out its contents. There, in official typed writing, was an apartment lease for one Aeduan Amalej.

“Good enough?”

Iseult’s eyes slowly rolled up to meet his penetrating stare. Challenging her.

She nodded, still not trusting herself with words, folding the document with care and tucking it back into the envelope. When she held it out for him, she finally felt brave enough to speak.

“Perfect.”

Aeduan nodded sharply, though there was no sign of satisfaction in his face. A small dent still worried itself between his brow - possibly a permanent fixture on his otherwise smooth face.

Iseult gathered the necessary materials and laid them out in front of him, overly aware of him watching her, scrutinizing her every move. But her motions were fluid, poised, lending no indication to how she felt on the inside.

“I’ll need you to fill out this form with all of your up-to-date information,” Iseult explained. She was pleased, albeit surprised, with how commanding her voice sounded. “When you’re finished I’ll enter you into our database and have a card for you to sign. That’s all.”

Again, Aeduan nodded, his hard expression a slate of ice as he picked up the pen Iseult had laid out for him and got to work on filling out the form.

Iseult thought it unlikely that he’d appreciate her hovering, so she sat down at her computer and busied herself with starting his entry, all the while sneaking glances at him out of the corner of her eye. When he finished, he returned it to her without saying a word. In the minutes that followed, all that spoke between them was the clicking Iseult’s keyboard.

“Almost done,” Iseult hummed, more for her own reassurance than Aeduan’s. He still watched her like a hawk. She could feel the tremble in her hands. It was a miracle she wasn’t mis-typing everything.

With his last bit of information saved, she opened a drawer next to her and grabbed a stack of library cards. She slipped one out and scanned it into the computer. “I just need you to sign here,” she pointed to the line underneath the card’s barcode “and then you’ll be all set.”

Aeduan’s eyes rested a moment too long on the spot where Iseult’s finger pointed, and with a flicker of horror, she realized her nail was still covered in the ridiculous sparkly purple nail polish Safi had insisted on trying out on her a couple nights ago when they were both bored. Well - Iseult was bored. Safi was merely bored with studying and claimed it was stifling other more imaginative and wholly worthwhile endeavors. Safi’d even tried painting on a heart, which turned out to look more like a blob than anything.

“Just like yours!” she’d joked.

The clipped way he took the card from her sparkle encrusted fingers told Iseult exactly how he felt about her “blob”. She watched him scribble his signature, and she imagined how he’d react if she offered him the congratulatory glitter pencil and chunky animal eraser that was customary with all new patrons that signed up for a library card in the Children’s Room. Better skip the bubble party too.

Aeduan straightened, extending the pen to Iseult. She took it and with a weak sort of smile said as they did to all their new patrons: “Congratulations. You are an official owner of a library card.”

Aeduan frowned at the card, his expression unreadable. Oh yeah. Definitely skip the bubble party.

Still staring at the card, he began to walk away. Iseult was about to release a breath of relief when she remembered something.

“Sir, I almost forgot.” She held up a finger asking him to wait when he turned around. She didn’t miss the flash of annoyance in his eyes as she hurried into the back office, but it really would only take a second. When she reappeared, she was holding a book with a little black cat on the cover.

“I held onto this. In case you came back,” Iseult explained, holding the picture book out to him. “I remembered your little girl wanted it and thought I’d hold onto it so no one else would check it out. I wouldn’t have wanted her to be disappointed if you came back and it wasn’t here anymore. I know it’s a Halloween book and the chances of someone checking it out in January are slim, but you’d be surprised with how often holiday books get checked out throughout the year. They-”

Stop talking stop talking STOP TALKING. Iseult clamped her mouth shut. Where was her stutter when she needed it?

Aeduan was staring down at the book, frowning just as he had with the library card. He made no move to take it. Iseult swallowed.

“I-it’s yours if you want to take it,” she tried, pressing the book forward bravely.

Slowly, Aeduan reached a hand and took it.

“Thank you…” The words trailed off, and though he had already talked to Iseult before, he sounded as though he had not spoken in years. Or perhaps it was just the words. Rough and unused. He cleared his throat, then spoke again. “That’s… that’s very kind of you.”

Iseult only watched him studying the front cover of the book. She didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t angry, that much was clear. The only thing that was clear, really.

Aeduan turned away, still considering the book. Brow furrowed like he’d never seen anything like it.

“Sir,” Iseult called after him. He twisted around and though his face was as it always was, all of its hardness was gone. He looked almost in a daze as he blinked at her. Younger, somehow. She pointed apologetically to the book in his hands. “I need to check you out. Check the book out.”

Heat rushed to Iseult’s face faster than she could correct herself. Fuck, did she really just say that?

“Oh.” Aeduan looked down at the book, then back to her again. For a third time, he walked back to the desk and handed her the book.

“Thanks.” She scanned the book, his account already open from when she set up his card, and printed a due date receipt. “You’re all set,” she said, handing the book back to him, along with the slip. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No,” Aeduan said immediately. A little bit of the usual hard edge in his voice had returned. He tucked the book under his arm and turned away, and so Iseult did the same, thinking she should probably check on the the returns bin before it overflowed. It was afternoon and the place would soon be swarming with the after school kids. However, Iseult was only halfway to it when Aeduan’s voice pinned her to the spot.

“Actually-” Iseult turned halfway and looked over her shoulder only to find Aeduan marching back to her desk with all the conviction of a soldier about to head into battle, possibly to his impending death. Her spine straightened as though she were about to do the same. It certainly felt that way.

“I could use some help. I need...” Iseult watched the muscles in Aeduan’s face tighten as he fought for the right word. “A recommendation,” he finally said, then added, “If you have the time.”

It almost sounded like he was hoping she wouldn’t have the time. His pale eyes searched her face, and once again she was drawn into their frozen depths. She licked her lips and gave a little shake of her head. “I’m not too busy to help. That’s… that’s why I’m here.”

Aeduan nodded, that perfunctory little jerk of his head that he seemed to favor over words. Iseult walked around the desk to meet him, and for some reason this was very different from where she had just been.

He towered over her about a head and a half. This close she could smell the worn leather of his jacket and… something else. Something familiar. Whatever it was made her nose wiggle and her insides squirm.

Aeduan looked at her questioningly. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear and looked out over the children’s room, pretending not to notice.

“What kind of book do you think you’re looking for?” she asked, then pointing to different shelving areas explained, “We have toddler board books and picture books by the play area. Nonfiction is by the computers and study tables. Then,” she indicated the shelves lined up in the middle of the room and hugging the walls, “we have early readers, middle grade, and young adult fiction. Anything older than that and you’ll have to go upstairs.”

Aeduan said nothing, surveying the room absently like he knew all this. Iseult watched him, thinking that he would eventually say something. But he didn’t.

“What reader age are you looking for?” she prompted patiently, tucking her hands behind her back.

Aeduan opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. The pulse in his jaw ticked. If a simple question such as that had irritated the man, then he was truly beyond Iseult. His eyes narrowed along the shelves of books.

Finally, he turned to look at her. “She’s young. Doesn’t read much.” He cast out the words like a challenge. As always, Iseult, dutifully, didn’t let the coldness stir an ounce of emotion on her face.

“Then perhaps another picture book,” she said, and feeling a sense of foreboding in burdening him with another question, she asked, “What does she like?”

Aeduan’s frown returned. Thinking. “Cats.”

“Cats,” repeated Iseult slowly. Well, it was a start at least.

“And animals,” Aeduan said with sudden conviction. “More than people.”

A burgeoning smile trembled along the seam of Iseult’s lips. It sounded like she and Aeduan’s mysterious little friend had something in common.

“I think I know exactly what she might like.”

With that, Iseult led Aeduan through the low-standing maze of shelves, weaving in and out of the way of any children they crossed paths with in the aisles, all the while Aeduan followed unquestioningly behind her, nodding and listening to her suggestions as she pulled book after book from the shelves and handed each one to him. By the time they’d walked away from the last row of the Z’s, he had a generous pile stacked in his arms.

“That should keep her occupied for awhile,” Iseult commented, making conversation as Aeduan inspected the selection. She wasn’t quite sure when, but somewhere along their little excursion, his demeanor had softened. He even looked through the books with something that might have been genuine satisfaction. Incredible.

“Would you like to check out?”

“I was thinking,” Aeduan grunted, then stopped - Iseult assumed from his slightly conflicted expression - for more thinking. He began again. “She might like it if I read her a book before bed. Like a chapter book.”

“With animals?”

Aeduan shrugged. “Maybe something with magic? I don’t think she’d object to dragons.”

“Oh.” The word floated out of Iseult like a feather on the wind. She swept past Aeduan, carried by her own timid excitement to the shelves along the wall. Vaguely, she felt him following her, but as always, he didn’t ask any questions. The tips of her fingers dusted over the rows of books as she traced the letters of the alphabet to where she needed to be, and when she pulled out a thin volume, she didn’t even realize - or care - that she was smiling.

“My Father’s Dragon,” she said, feeling strangely breathless, handing it to Aeduan. He remained impassive, but, inside, Iseult bubbled with the exhilaration that only comes from wielding the power of recommending an undeniably remarkable book. “It’s about a boy who runs away to rescue a baby dragon. And,” she tapped the lion on the cover, “there are plenty of animals.”

Aeduan studied it curiously, as usual, not saying anything. Iseult ducked down to the shelf below where she found the book.

“And since we’re in the G’s,” she murmured to herself, tracing a finger along the book spines, searching for Goechenka.

“Aeduan.”

Iseult straightened and peered around the side of Aeduan. Evrane was walking towards them, adorned in ocean blue and her silver bangles jingling on her wrists. Her eyes brightened when she spotted Iseult behind Aeduan. The little girl at her feet trailing behind her, however, eyed her warily.

“Ah, good! You two have met,” said Evrane, joining them. When she spotted the books in Aeduan’s arms, she tilted her head to the side and arched an eyebrow in intrigue. “That’s quite an ambitious collection you have there.”

Aeduan responded with something that could have been a grunt or a cough - whichever it was, it wasn’t words. Not sure why she felt the need to smooth it over, Iseult swooped in.

“Aeduan asked for help picking out some titles.” She glanced over at him as confirmation only to find herself pinned under an ice-blue glare.

“Did he really?” Evrane remarked with mild astonishment. She was looking at Aeduan bemusedly, arms folded across her chest. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Aeduan, looking considerably less happy than he had before Evrane showed up, ignored her and knelt down on one knee to the child’s level, placing the books on the ground next to him. His broad shoulders were all tension, but when he reached out to her, Iseult couldn’t believe it was the same person who had all but grunted at Evrane like a neanderthal.

“Owl,” he said, the word feather light on his lips. He didn’t quite smile, but his eyes, the same eyes that had frozen Iseult to the core only seconds ago, were awash with warmth. The girl, Owl, shuffled over to him and wedged herself on the inside of his bent leg and against his chest.

She did not look at the books.

Evrane turned to Iseult and with delicate politeness said, “Would you mind checking those out? I need a moment with Aeduan.”

“Of course.” Iseult hesitated, then bent down to collect the books next to Aeduan. Their eyes met for a flicker of a heartbeat, and in that moment, Iseult was hit with that kindle of warmth meant for Owl. With sparkling clarity, she wondered what it would be like to have someone look at her that way. To not only be the source of one’s warmth, but the flame as well.

Iseult quickly pulled away, as though burned, and made her escape with the books. At the desk she began scanning them and she stacked them neatly on top of each other, one after another until there were no more left. Fixing the corner of one of the books so it was perfectly aligned with the rest of the stack, Iseult kept her head bowed low and glanced over at the pair from under her bangs.

Even while Evrane spoke, Aeduan’s attention was entirely focused on Owl. She had to be his daughter, Iseult thought. Only a parent looks at a child that way. With that innate protectiveness. Like no one else existed.

Not that she’d know. She wouldn’t exactly describe Gretchya as maternal.

Iseult considered the pile in front of her and worried about whether or not she should rejoin the pair, only to have her internal debate interrupted by Hilga’s stern but not unkind voice.

“Iseult, what are you still doing here? Your shift ended 10 minutes ago.”

Iseult glanced at the clock. 2:10. Shit. When did that happen? She’d be late for her shift at Jitters if she didn’t leave soon, which would potentially make Safi late for class. Not that she’d care. She’d probably use it as an excuse to skip class altogether.

“I was busy helping a patron.”

“Well, I can take over from here,” Hilga said, bustling around the desk. “Are these books for them?”

“Yes. I already checked them out. He’s-”

But Hilga was already shoo-ing her away and Iseult knew better than to argue. She slipped into the back office and gathered her belongings, changed into her boots for the wet walk home, and pulled on her coat, scarf, and gloves. When she came back out, she stopped short in the doorway.

Aeduan was back at the desk and Hilga was nowhere to be found.

Aeduan’s entire body froze at her appearance.

“I thought you left,” he stated after an uncomfortable moment’s pause.

“I am,” Iseult replied, then quickly amended, “Leaving. Now.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Did you get your books?”

“We’re leaving too,” he said, not answering her question.

“Oh,” she said dumbly. “Well…” And with nothing left to say or do, she walked around from behind the desk, and with a hesitant pause at Aeduan and Owl by his side, she made her way to the exit. She could feel Aeduan at her heels, following her through the shelves, until they were out of the room and were able to walk side by side, Owl toddling between them, her hand firmly grasped in Aeduan’s.

It was a mistake. That much was clear the second they stepped out of the Children’s Room. From there they were able to walk side by side, but with Owl between them, both Iseult and Aeduan had no choice but to walk at her pace, making the journey through the library a longer and more torturous experience.

The building was already quiet, but next to Aeduan, the silence was deafening. No sooner had they left the Children’s Room, Iseult found herself wishing she had made up some excuse to hang back. A forgotten book, a phone left behind, anything to avoid this uncomfortable processional. Iseult didn’t trust herself to make something up now. For all her control over her emotions, she was a terrible liar, and Aeduan didn’t seem like the type to be convinced by a clumsy attempt at bullshitting.

Or maybe he was. He seemed pretty damn oblivious to the awkwardness of the situation at hand or the fact that he could speed this trip along and spare them both of this unnecessary pain by picking Owl up and carrying her the rest of the way.

In the end, Iseult had been a fool. For she did not know the true meaning of awkward until they were outside at the bottom of the library’s stone steps. They both came to a stop when they stepped down onto the sidewalk and for a moment they eyed each other through the falling snow.

“Well, I’m this way,” Iseult initiated, motioning her head over her shoulder.

Aeduan looked over her and nodded. “Alright.”

Iseult waited for him to say something similar, to tell her they were going the other way or - Moon Mother, save her - they were headed in the same direction as her. But that assertion never came. Instead, Aeduan simply stood there staring at her as though waiting for her to leave.

So she did. Without so much as a goodbye or a wave, she jerkily pivoted away and plodded through the slush, leaving Aeduan and Owl on the steps of the library. Ice seeped into her boots, but she was already numb with her own mortification. Each bone-cold step taking her further and further away from them and the library seemed to strengthen the tangle of confusion in her head, leaving only one lone thread of thought for her to pull at.

What in Noden’s saggy left trident was that?

#the witchlands #witchlands #baeseult #iseult det midenzi #aeudan #safiya fon hasstrel #owl #ryber fortiza #aeduan x iseult #truthwitch #bookends #my fics #mine

26 notes · View notes