#this snake oil is sure to scare them away

[button-brr]

hi welcome to garbage planet. can i take your order?

my fated gray lady sent another sad little boy who only likes to fuck when he's high who only vapes stuff he says he's going to get rid of one day. {cotton candy clouds that sweeten the deal a little bit] but mostly they just remind me of him and the nic makes me soooo fucking sick.

no serious plans no genuine love

I see their empty hollow laugh grins. so surprised a prince, handsome as I am, even looks at them. yeah. I love cute boys. I like sweet boys. I like fucking adult children who don't know how to make their beds and they sleep with stuffed animals and throw full blown fuckin tantrums when they run out of weed. but I promised myself I wasn't gonna do it again. so it's over. it has to end. it has to be over. I have to end it.

I'm so fucking sick.

of you. and him. and men like you. men like him. men who think they're more special than anyone else. men who don't ask if I'm doing ok. men who see and coo over me like I'm a child. I'll tolerate it. but I'm not fucking falling for it anymore.

I'm back in the shadowlands, it seems.

those are old tricks to me now. I see through your mask better than you see the placement of mine. and I have nothing to ask of you. keep whatever you want. things are trash are replaceable. disposable. everything is garbage in the end. in this garbage world. here on fucking garbage planet. I just didn't expect such a so much of negativity to come back so quickly. I just wish I could sit and think and be alone all over again. i would. happily.

nobody I need to see. nothing I need to do.

just me and my closet and dark air where I can sob and nobody can see my tears, not even myself. I hate obligation. I take responsibility and I take it seriously but I'm sick of bad dogs. untrained monsters barking their way into my path. I'll step into the weeds if I have to, find a stray hiding too sweet for this world. raise a good fuckin dog from scratch.

I don't need ruined goods.

I don't need a monster. I don't need a rapist beast jerkish ass self hurter that doesn't care about other people's feelings. you wanted to and you did and you want to and you would. human nature is to repeat whatever you can get away with whenever it works. not this fucking time. I'm sick and tired of it. I want good pure love. I'm not sticking around for this fuckin bullshit. that's all it is. two dates and you're fallen for me completely? you think couples counseling is gonna fix this? grow the fuck up. get a job and stop telling your mother everything. maybe then once you can buy your own things and pay your own rent, you'd find someone willing to fuck you good and right despite everything bad you do. I can't keep control of you. I don't want it.

im sorry i left a mark at all.

its not hard to cover up something you dont want people to see. you did it really well the first time. my love bites and bruises never landed so well before, too bad your sorry act crashed and you burned the bridges i was building. good riddance.

you are a fucking albatross. a #curse. a burden. a nothing. a bother. a beast. I've had enough.

[quarterlifekitty]

I’m obsessed with your selectively mute reader with soap and ghost🥹not sure this gives you any inspiration to write more but what if reader finally says something else to him after some sort of misunderstanding whereby soap thinks he may have scared her away (for being too desperate or something) and she reassures him with the help of ghost that she’s still very much into him. Plz ignore if this is shite

😭 I will not ignore this is not shite and in fact…. I am in love with you

Soap loses sight of himself a little after a long deployment. He comes home with Ghost (he practically lives with you two anyways). You give them both a little wave and a smile before turning back to what you’re tending at the stove. A gentle hi being heard between the sizzling of peppers in the pan.

Ghost heads straight for the bathroom— he likes to basically scrub himself with scalding water before touching you after a deployment.

“Our bonnie,” Soap purrs, coming up behind you to embrace you, unthinkingly putting his face in the nape of your neck. He bites a little, just gently, at your pulse— just to feel the blood thrum beneath the skin. His hands splay themselves on your stomach, snaking beneath your shirt. A sudden pop of oil makes him remember himself.

“I— I shouldnnae done that. Shoulda’ asked you and… Without LT here, I—“ he blusters. Walks off before you have a chance to reach out.

Sits himself out back on the porch like he’s put himself in the doghouse. He knows your boundaries are delicate, and he went and acted like you were his. When you hadn’t talked about anything like that. Hell, you barely talk to him. He gets into his own mind, thinking maybe he needs to stop inserting himself into whatever good thing you and Simon have going— fuck, how could he have felt so entitled to you?

He’s brought from his brooding when Simon steps out the back door. He makes sound on purpose, wanting to be noticed. You poke your head out and follow suit after a few moments.

“Birdie n’ I got somethin’ we wanna tell you, Johnny.” Soap’s life is flashing before his eyes. The best thing he had going for him— and he’s fucked it.

“Don’t go,” you say impulsively, before catching yourself and pausing. You rehearse the line you wanted a few more times internally before it comes out. “We… want you to be with us. Please?”

Ghost keeps a hand at your back while you wrap your arms around Johnny.

“Go on, mate. Don’t keep us waitin’.”

Soap’s snapped out of his stupor. Pulls Simon in— gentle enough that the slightest resistance would stop it from working, and wraps his arms around you both.

“Hen, Si…. You kiddin’? I’ve been yours. And I’ll still be, for as long and ye can stand it.”

[slay00ryu]

mc x actual devil ronin?

The Saint Becomes the Sinner.

Satan, Devil, the creator of all that's filthy and sinister.

Those were only few of Ronin's many titles given by humans. He found it funny, how they all acted so scared of him, praying to God for protection and still sin, turn to desires, wealth. Oh how pathetic the little humans were to him.

He even decided to mix between them, played a serial killer, got rid of abusers who deserved the greatest punishments. He found their fear and cries for mercy so amusing.

One day, when he was coming back from his work, he spotted an interesting sight. A human. A human with the soul as pure as white, as clean as an angel. It felt so interesting to him. Humans other than children with pure souls were a rarity, and he wanted to destroy every soul like that.

Corrupt it with filth and dirt, make it so utterly disgusting that the saints would cry about their lose while he would dance devilishly and laugh in their faces.

He was following the soul's owner around for a while, watching them very closely. They were a poet of sorts, pouring their feelings into poetry, or into prayer. Ronin found it pathetic. The gods won't answer either way, they never do. He saw it all, people begging gods to save their children, help them, protect them. Yet, their prayers stayed unanswered, ignored, tossed aside.

It took Ronin weeks to learn the human's patterns. Their routine wasn't too complicated, their life was rather boring. Maybe that's why they managed to stay so pure? Oh, then breaking that pureness will be even more enjoyable. Seeing how he can shape this mundane human into something absolutely destroyed will be an experience worth the wait.

Since his day to day job as a human was a mechanic. he decided to maybe sabotage the human's car so they could get a more or less natural way of meeting for the first time.

"Good afternoon sir, I'm so sorry to bother you, but the battery in my car died."

There they were. The star of the devil's little puppet show. All innocent and polite. He had to stop himself from grinning or he would ruin his chances with this human.

He turned to look at them, wiping the motor oil from his hand into a cloth. He approached them, slow and calculated steps.

"This thing is yours?"

He looked at the car. Acting like it's the first time he sees it.

"Yeah, I got it from my dad, he will kill me if I break it."

They chuckled, he answered with a small smile, oh yeah the human jokes. He never understood their jesting over the eternal demise. Maybe they feared it so much that they wanted to laugh at it? He will never know.

"I'm sure I can make this baby live again."

He used his more flirtatious tone, he had to amour them in some way after all. And as the snake sly games wre his speciality.

The human bought into his little game. Smiling a little as they looked away sheepishly.

"I sure hope that you do, who know maybe I'd like a coffee with my hero?"

Here it was. Humans are so easy. One provocative gaze, the right words, tone, body language and they are all wrapped around his finger. He didn't even try too hard to make the move, maybe it were the days of watching, or how well he knew the human nature by now.

Time flew by. Ronin spent quite some time with the pure hearted individual. Feeding their mind with filth when they were too focused on his facade.

Watching as their soul was getting tainted with more darkness, with this chaos. Oh, what a beautiful sight for sore eyes it was. A true spectacle.

Every time the human and him indulged in more dangerous, or intimate activities, he could feel their soul giving in to his darkness. Living in it, loving all of it. He felt this strange attraction for this human.

Maybe it was how they looked? Or maybe how the effects of Ronin's hard work was showing in their behaviour? The looks full of desire, the fire burning deep in them. They were almost as devilish as him.

Their passion felt hot, heated even. The sin they were committing was almost beautiful. After all, loving the sin itself was the worst thing any being could do.

Ronin couldn't even begin to count how many angels lost their lives for loving him, and he? He felt satisfaction. Destroying the holy laws was his favourite game, watching the world burn was his dream.

And perhaps, this new little lover of his might've joined that dream. Side by side, watching the world fall. An alluring vision indeed.

Maybe the Devil got a little too into that game of his.

[jaydawne]

Something's Different

Henlo! Don't mind me, just yeeting a little drabble I made for Samuel a while ago to do with his Protector form, a second one shall also be posted soon. Kind of a sequel as it makes more sense after this one. Anyways, hope y'all enjoy! (CW: Very mild Body Horror)

Samuel Lafen has always had pretty good senses, a little more than average of most other humans. Of course his sight isn't as much, he needs glasses after all, but the rest seem to make up for that at least. He could hear that they're muttering something intelligible under their breath, he could hear Mikey calling for the others to the kitchen from a room or two away... 

But... he never used to be able to hear Donnie's heartbeat from the other side of the room. He used to be able to just smell the lingering scents of motor oil or sweat or what-have-you on his friends in close proximity, but lately, he could smell them, their individual scents that set them apart from the others... He would know they were coming before they entered the room, either by their scent or the sound of their footsteps way down the hall. 

He could feel when the air changes when Donnie's doing one of his experiments or when he's working on a project himself, feel how some of the static permeated the air, or feel how the air grew lighter or denser upon coming and going from the sewers or climbing up the stairs of a building. He could taste more than usual, the individual herbs or ingredients Mikey used in his cooking. He could sense more than he used to... sometimes he's sure he can see bright lights of colour instead of his friends... and he's not sure how to feel about it.

Something about him... is different. Something about him changed. And it scares him. He's scared that he's been subconsciously mimicking their turtle-speak like it was second nature. He's scared that when they're fighting the bad guy of the week, he's gotten faster, gotten stronger, despite not even doing anything different to usual that could change that. He's scared that there's something in him that spikes when one of his friends either is almost hit or does get hit, even if it was just a light one that they could easily bounce back from and continue the fight. Something made him want to hurt whoever they're fighting when that happens, even for a moment. He's scared that he's changing... that his canines have grown sharper than usual, that his mouth is changing colour and doesn't even feel like flesh anymore. He's scared when they mention his pupils change like a snake's does, that sometimes they're almost paper thin, or blown so wide he looks like a kitten seeing something new and interesting. 

He's scared that his need to hug and be in contact with his friends has also grown stronger lately. Like he needs to know they're here and safe. That sometimes he almost doesn't let go when they're done with the contact. He's scared that something inside him wants them close, close, closer, closer, like something will happen to them if they're not pressed as impossibly close as he can possibly get them. And the thing that scared him most...

is when he looked in the mirror one day, expecting his own reflection, only to see something different staring right back.

[jodilin65]

SATURDAY, AUGUST 31, 2002 I’m typing this as I soak my feet in warm water laced with baby oil. My feet get so rough with calluses, so I took a scrub brush and scrubbed at the rough spots before soaking them in oil.

Anyway, I’m up to a total of 381 viewings.

Got some more rattlesnake pictures! At 2 AM, Tom got the munchies so he started to go out to the car to get the chips he forgot to bring in. As soon as he went out he heard a loud hissing that sounded like air escaping a tire. For a fraction of a second, he thought something was wrong with the AC, then he realized it was a snake and went back inside. He said it was a good thing he didn’t go down another couple of steps or else it would’ve nailed him for sure. A few hours later we returned just after sunrise with groceries, and we saw the same rattlesnake that I had taken pictures of before, curled up asleep between the AC and the shed, about 8’ from the door. We quietly whisked the groceries through, then went out to wake it up so I could hear the rattle, but it was a sound sleeper! It did awaken somewhat but was either too cold or just not scared enough to move or rattle, but it did coil up and keep an eye on us while we got pictures. While Tom kept an eye on it, I got as close as it’d let me and took pictures. I was about 6-8’ away. The snake was 4-5’ and could only strike 2-3’. Then, later on, when the sunlight was a little brighter, I went out and took some more shots. This time it rattled at me. I’d creep forward, it would rattle, and I’d step back, keeping a safe distance. Again, I got as close as it’d let me. Despite what it stands for, it really is a cool-looking snake.

This is the first summer we’ve seen rattlers on the land, so I assume it’s due to my feeding the prairie dogs. We don’t mind the snake, though, as we’re just extra cautious when we come and go. It’s been keeping stray dogs away, so there’s some good in having it around.

Later…

Speaking of dogs – two large dogs just walked down Ralston and up Meadow Green, as if we already had the fences up, or as if they sensed that there was danger here. Tom said he saw another stray limping badly with an injured leg and we wonder if a snake didn’t bite it. I last saw them at the renter’s, so maybe they live there. Don’t know for sure, though.

Anyway, Tom explained to me that even my just being indifferent and not turned off of the idea of sex entirely, isn’t enough for him. Meaning, he says he only wants sex if I want it, but as I came out and told him, I simply have no desire. It isn’t anything he did, it isn’t that he’s ugly, it isn’t that I don’t love him, I just don’t desire it. I don’t know why, but I don’t. I don’t know what to do about it, either. Just ignore it and keep on going as we have? Get it on and see if I can get into it? See a doctor about it? He says not to worry about it, but I feel like I’m depriving him (if he’s telling the truth about wanting it) yet I can’t make myself feel something I don’t.

I got a couple of letters with drafts from Mary. She’s been depressed, unfortunately. I guess everything’s at a standstill with her case right now. She doesn’t seem to have any idea of when she’s going to court next or what’s going on. I quit bothering to check online cuz they never tell me anything new. They’re all the same color, so, why should they?

She likes the new Celine Dion song too, and says that yes, she’s up listening to her radio at 2 AM, or working out or working on her story. I figured as much, too.

My journal notes still live on 205’s ceiling too, not that I can remember what the hell they said. I’ll have to ask her to tell me. She’s getting along with the baby-beater, so that’s good. She said something about getting an easy-going roommate named Virginia after Hope leaves, which is going to be soon. Guilty or not, I can only imagine just what that girl must be feeling! Ugh! Imagine knowing you were about to go to prison for over a decade! I’d kill myself for damn sure! I wouldn’t care how many good-looking DOs there might be waiting for me there, either.

Later…

I forgot to say that a big lizard ran over the snake at one point, but it didn’t faze it. I’m amazed at how much braver the ratters are as opposed to the king snakes. King snakes run when they see people, but rattlers will stand and fight. That is if need be.

Ok, now it’s off to type Mary’s drafts.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 30, 2002 Tom went to work really late last night and won’t be in till close to noon today. He’s opening the Maricopa PO box today.

Meanwhile, I share excerpts with him from my journal via email at times. In one message I included some of my sexual opinions. In his reply, he wrote: I don’t really agree with your opinions but I know there is no point in expecting them to change. I don’t want to be platonic but I don’t want to have a relationship that isn’t mutual. As long as you don’t care, I don’t want a physical relationship. I want it, but it wouldn’t be satisfying unless you wanted it, too.

Although I told him that it wasn’t that I didn’t care and that it was a case of my going along with his actions, which always speak louder than words, I don’t really want sex with him, and I can’t seem to bring myself to tell him so (this makes me see how it could’ve been hard for him to admit to not wanting a kid back when I wanted one). Instead, I told him I’d go along with whatever he chose. After all, I suppose I’d be obligated to as long as it wasn’t every second of the day. If he wants platonic, okay, and if he wants sex, okay. Because I am indifferent, or better yet, okay with whatever he wants, I decided to leave it up to him. Because he’s someone I love, I would be happy to go along with and follow him on whatever choice he makes, but I’d be lying if I said I could ever feel the amount of desire and lust as with Teddy Bear. I mean, sure he could go down on me and make me cum, but it’s just not the same as with a woman who turns me on the way that she did. I just don’t feel that spark, that longing, as much as I love him, and of course, now my attitude about his cumming would be the direct opposite of what it used to be. Meaning, I wouldn’t want him cumming without rubbers. I know I’m sterile and I know I have destiny working in my favor, but even so, would you take the chance and be dumb enough to walk in front of oncoming traffic just because you don’t think you’ll get hit? No, you wouldn’t. You’d still be a responsible person, I’d hope. Nonetheless, as I told him, it was never that I didn’t care or felt that it had to be one way or another. If he came out and told me he wanted me to stand on my pinky finger all day, then we’d obviously have a conflict of interest. Or if he told me to strangle Little Buddy. Things like that would certainly be much harder to do and they wouldn’t be mutual. But it all comes down to my trying to please the one I love, even if it’s more one-sided like I’ve said many times before. I loved him when we met, I loved him along the way, I love him now, and I always will. This is regardless of how many attractive women I could possibly meet in person or see on TV, etc.

I still think it’s all bullshit, though. I think that if he really wanted sex that bad he’d have made a move on me or at least expressed these desires somehow, someway, but he never did and I think he’s just making excuses, implying that it’s because of me, just like with the kid. I understand, though, how hard it is to come out and admit to the one you love that you’re just not on the same wavelength. It may be wrong not to be totally honest, but I can understand it, nonetheless. Meanwhile, we’ve been platonic for two years now and I’m sure it’ll stay that way. He’s not about to make a move on me, and if he did, it’d be once a year, and I sure as hell ain’t going to be getting it on with Teddy Bear or any other woman like her that turns me on in any serious kind of way. If God had wanted me with the Teddy Bears, the Glorias, the Lindas, the Kates, the Norahs, the Melanies, etc., then that’s who I’d have been with a long time ago. I was meant to be a man’s woman with not much lust involved if any at all. Meanwhile, in this day and age, I’m content to keep the lust alive and active in my fantasies.

Speaking of Teddy Bear, now that I know she’s on first shift maybe I can see her online, but that would only be if she were working the intake area. Who knows how often, if ever, that is? I realize that I may’ve been a bit hard on myself as far as pushing myself to get over her goes. Technically, it’s like I last saw her 4 months ago due to the fact that a whole year of our relationship, regardless of whether or not she followed through with it, was put on hold. So, in a sense, I spent a whole year waiting to get blown off. Mary says she probably has no idea she’s hurt me like this. Yeah, I believe it. No one that’s ever hurt me, be it intentionally or not, has ever known just how much they hurt me. They were always completely clueless as far as that was concerned, and if they ever weren’t completely in the dark about how hurt I was, they certainly didn’t seem to mind. After all, it was only my feelings, wasn’t it? No skin off their backs.

In the letter I got from Mary, she said she’d have been terrified of the snake. As I told her, though, snakes are easy enough to avoid and they can’t get in the house, so I’m okay with them.

I’ve been enjoying this time off from the freeloaders and having to do for them and having my life be forced to revolve around them. It’s been a no-win situation either way. I can’t fight them, I can’t ignore them. Fighting them has gotten me in trouble and so has trying to ignore them. It’s literally like being pinned down by a dozen people where I’m totally restricted from ignoring them and there’s no way in hell to fight back, either. Labor Day’s coming up, so I’ll get an extra day off from them and the possibility that a certain fat face may show up at the house, distract me from whatever I’m doing, and remind me yet again of what these people have done to me and all they’re going to get away with. Makes me wish I was one of those ill characters who get off on being abused! It really helps, though, not to have to see him once a week.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 29, 2002 My waist is up to 30½. That’s a big waist for a five-footer. Maybe someday I’ll lose weight, but I don’t know. I’d only gain it right back, so what’s the point? I’m middle-aged. I’m supposed to be overweight.

Anyway, I see tons of thick gray clouds in the east with a few individual storm cells and bolts of lightning, but I know it won’t make it here. It’s like storms are afraid to come over this particular area.

I’m about to finish up with the 1994 file.

Later…

Soon I’ll be coming up to the last few hours of my day which are my least favorite. That’s when I’m too tired to really do anything, but not tired enough to sleep, so I end up just laying around bored till I finally do knock off.

Sure enough, the clouds cleared and it’s as bright and sunny as most days are in Arizona. Getting hot too, and it’s not even 10:00 yet.

I still feel like something’s teasing me with my singing, even though I only wish to do it for fun and no longer smoke. Every time I sing I have some sort of problem hindering me, be it inhaler congestion, burping, a tickle in my throat, etc.

Just like I spent several years being mad at God for not allowing me a kid, it seems I spend most time being mad at him for his dual standards these days. It was okay for Nancy K to threaten me, the very thing I was supposed to be there for, but it’s not ok for me. No, I can’t threaten anyone. God help me should I lash out, mildly or not so mildly, at those who harass and torment me that I would’ve otherwise ignored had I been left alone by them.

Why must I always be made to pay for someone else’s hatred, stupidity or incompetence?!

Damn my own stupidity too, for not beating the snot out of that black bitch when she came screaming at the door, and damn my own stupidity for “cooperating” with the pigs and for opening the door to them. With my shit luck, though, they’d have just kicked the door down had I not, and Arizona would do something so extreme over a letter, too. Not even small towns like South Deerfield back east would react in such a way to something like this! And all for what? Cuz the fucking “victim” was black? As harsh as Arizona’s laws are, this never would’ve happened if she’d been white as well. I know it wouldn’t have. The question is, though, if the black bitch hadn’t had her piggy friend to use against me, would it still have gone as far as it has? Would things have been so trumped up and blown out of perspective then?

Just as suddenly as the days came when it was hard for me to deal with Teddy Bear’s leading me on and dumping me to the point that I was crying, it’s gotten easier again. Proof that no, God didn’t have anything to do with when it got easier the last time, cuz I didn’t pray for help this time around. I know better and I’ll never pray for a damn thing again. Not even for my life if I were held at gunpoint by some monster!

I did have a funny dream pertaining to Teddy Bear, though, that might make for a good book part. I was back in M Dorm, alone in 203. I squealed with delight when I saw her come through the door at the start of second shift. I noticed she didn’t have her clipboard in hand.

She opened the cell door and stepped inside, letting the door lock shut behind her. “Hey, babe,” she said. “I got it all taken care of.”

“Got what taken care of?” I asked her.

“Another DO’s covering for me so I can spend the night with you.” She kicked her shoes off, took off her work belt and placed it on the metal desk. Then she glanced at my bunk, walked over to it and sat down on it before stretching out on her back. “So this is what these things are like, huh?”

Still stunned and unsure of what to say, I finally said, “Teddy Bear, the DO can see us every time she does a walk.”

“She won’t bother us. She knows what’s going on and she can be trusted.”

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 28, 2002 Boy, I really felt like a “working singer” tonight. I worked on my songs for a couple of hours straight. It’s cool that I could do it in the comfort and privacy of my own home, though privacy is not as big of a deal to me or else I wouldn’t be making a CD. Once I get a handful of fairly decent recordings, I’ll burn a few CDs. That way I can have copies available for whoever I might want to give one to.

Sometimes the songs I don’t think I’ll sound as good doing are the ones that come out better. However, there’s this Gloria song that no matter how hard I try to sing well, I just can’t seem to cut it singing that particular song. I guess it’s just not quite suitable for my voice, but I want to try to make as good of a recording as I can of it cuz it’s one I can do in Spanish. There are a couple of songs in Spanish I’ll be doing, plus a few lines of Spanish in a Selena song.

With some of the songs, I have a hard time with my timing, but I’m doing alright with them for the most part. Maybe this weekend Tom can set me up to record so that I can do it on my own time when he’s at work. That way I won’t have to be distracted by his presence. This way I can do as many takes as I need to till I get a suitable enough recording, just like they do in studios.

Funny how I dreamed of making a professional recording (and what I’ll be doing will be as close as you can get) for 20 years, then I forget about it, then end up doing it anyway. Also, it had dawned on me the other day that Mom, Mary and Dave haven’t heard me sing yet. Soon, though, they will. Not without a few laughs in between, though, I’m sure, since I’m not perfect. But that’s ok. I don’t mind being their source of entertainment in a funny way as well as in a good way. It’s like every other note sounds nice and vibrant where you can tell I’m a trained singer, and every other note sounds dull and nasally, but hey, I am better than most so I won’t complain too much.

I just can’t seem to find a suitable song of Linda’s to do in karaoke form. I’m surprised they don’t have songs like It Doesn’t Matter Anymore. I could do that one. But the others I’ve found either have notes too high or the music’s not complete. I was all set to do Silver Threads & Golden Needles, but the end of the song is missing.

Soon, I’m going to check out the daily pictures online, then do some more fine-tuning. Reading back on some of the shit my family put me through and knowing I’ll never again have to deal with their shit is such a wonderful feeling! Just that one incident alone where Doe made me continue eating after I complained of being full, one day when we went to a restaurant, causing me to end up throwing it all up in the parking lot, is enough to make me wonder how in the world I could ever associate with anyone who could do such a thing to someone. What a sick, twisted individual she was! The older I’ve become, the more I realize just how cruel most of my family really was.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 27, 2002 Another picture was downloaded from Mystery’s Dolls3. I’d be willing to bet it was Joy. That particular album only has a few pictures of her and a few Barbie pictures. I would think that with a doll looking like Joy, it must’ve been her they took. In a dress that I made. And all under 20 minutes, too.

Anyway, I expect that when Tom gets home within the next few hours he’ll have more story clips from Mary about her hiding out in New York from Justin, proof that God does make mistakes.

Meanwhile, I’ve been practicing singing to karaoke a lot, but not working much on my story. I have done some fine-tuning, though.

Anyway, I went to a lyrics site and printed out the lyrics to the songs I may record. If we can get some decent enough songs sung by me, or at least what I consider to be decent enough, we’ll merge the files (me and the karaoke) and burn them onto CDs.

Wish I knew why I was so damn fartsy all the time! I smell like a baby, or like a druggie named Bentley from Tent City. It seems no matter what I eat, my tummy’s a constant gas chamber.

Tom said he probably dropped the can that’s in back when he was bringing stuff out. Let’s hope so. That’s awfully close to the house, though as I said before, a part of me wishes I would catch a pig or a freeloader on the prowl.

We’re still having a very non-existent monsoon season. Of course, we had to have a fierce monsoon season when we had our leaky roof in Phoenix. That’s just our shit luck. If the roof suddenly blew off of this house, it’d rain like hell.

Anyway, as fun as the storms can be to watch, it really is a good thing we’re having all this dry weather. Then there’s no risk of leaks, like through the front door which Tom’s going to get new weather stripping. Rain also brings in the spiders and thunder wakes me up and can mess up my schedule. We’re getting close to the classes. I can’t afford to have any potential threats to my schedule at that point. I’ve got the freeloaders to deal with as it is.

Tom said he heard a report saying that if it doesn’t rain before August is out, it’ll be the first time in 27 years it didn’t rain in August.

I just wish those cheeks would come here when I was either at class or home alone so I could have the honor and the pleasure of ignoring him! But that will never happen. I mean, I’m home 99.9% of the time, so the odds of him stopping by while I was out are very slim. He’d have to be a gorgeous woman for that to happen.

I was telling Tom that with the omission of the freeloaders and the hurt caused by Teddy Bear, the turn of the century’s been the happiest years for me yet and life’s been getting better with time. He said he gets happier too, so this laid to rest any remaining questions I may’ve had about us being platonic. At first I was like, is he normal? Am I normal? Are we normal? But since he’s happy and I’m happy, does it really matter whether or not we’re normal? No, most people wouldn’t be happy with a platonic marriage, and no, most people wouldn’t be happy knowing they’ll probably be celibate for the rest of their lives, but we’re not most people. We’re Tom and Jodi and if Tom and Jodi are happy, then Tom and Jodi can stay the way they are.

It seems up until my early 20s I was obsessed with being “normal.” Then I became eager to rebel against the so-called norm, wanting to stick out like the sorest thumb in the city. Now, I just want to be me. It seems we’re either born to be leaders or followers, but I don’t want to be either one of those. I just want to be me.

MONDAY, AUGUST 26, 2002 The sun’s coming up later these days.

They got rid of the fire truck in back. Now they have a bright green truck. Where do people get the money for so many vehicles?

I don’t want to see Scot till the first Friday of next month, so awake or not, I’m not answering the door before September 6th. I need this rare 3 whole weeks off from seeing his face.

Meanwhile, I’ve been having a field day getting karaoke MP3s. They don’t display lyrics while they’re playing, so I went to this site that has tons of lyrics and printed them out to make singing to them easier if I do any recording. Tom says he misses hearing me sing, though I still do nearly every day with the music blasting. We discussed recording me singing to the music which only contains background vocals. Who knows? Maybe we’ll even give a copy to Mom, Mary and Dave if it comes out halfway decent. I mean, it doesn’t have to be perfect. At least I won’t have to stop and clear my throat every other line like I did when I smoked. I’ll just have to remember not to use my inhaler before I sing cuz that makes me congested at times, too.

Still haven’t heard from Paula. Yeah, she’s really grateful, ain’t she? That’s ok, though, she isn’t hearing from me, either. Not till I email my monthly journaling, but I don’t know if she’ll get it. That kid of hers just doesn’t get it when he’s told to let her know when she’s got an email. Sometimes he does, but he obviously doesn’t for the most part, but hey, she either gets it or she doesn’t. I’m not playing one-sided pen pal with her anymore. I’d rather put the ink, paper, stamps and envelopes towards Mary, my mutual, sane friend.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 24, 2002 I decided, believe it or not, to write another jailhouse story. Only difference is that this time around it’ll be hyped up with pieces of bullshit thrown in here and there. Tom even suggested I write about a real-life experience and expand on it. Oh, I’m going to expand on it alright! It’ll be written in story format and not laid out like a journal. Also, Teddy Bear and I will get to do the things we never got to do in reality! Hee, hee! Just like The Dead Zone series is based on characters and events from the movie, my book will be based on real-life experiences and real-life people. I think I might even be psychic too, and make Pancake Face Smith do things I could only dream about making her do when she pulled Mary. Things like uncontrollable and highly embarrassing farting. Yes, in my story I shall have what just about everyone else has had over me that I didn’t – control. What I say will go. Tom probably won’t care, but I’m sure Mary will get a kick out of it. It’ll basically be a romantic comedy with the DO’s names changed, yet still close to their real names, leaving just the inmates’ true names. I’ll probably only include DOs and inmates that were main players in real life. Probably only the ones who stood out in either good or bad ways and no in-between DOs or inmates like Brea and Carolyn P. At first I asked myself, do I really want to write this story and chance jinxing myself into having all this come true? But I could never end up as psychic as I plan to be in this book. Besides, I’ve written plenty of things that never rang true in the end, and remember, in the story Andy and I talked about me writing, the inmate and guard got it on. Teddy Bear and I obviously didn’t get that far, of course. So, my story ideas almost came true, but they didn’t quite make it.

I think I’ll even change my charges. Maybe I’ll have spray-painted a building or something. No chance of that getting jinxed into reality since I have no desire to spray-paint anything.

This time around I’m going to proofread it a few times once it’s done and not give it to anyone as I complete each chapter like I did with my bio. I want to make sure I get any typos I may have missed the first time around taken care of.

I don’t know how long it’ll be. I’ll just write whatever I feel like writing for however long I feel like writing it. I’ll do this in between my usual household tasks, my regular journaling, my fine-tuning of old journals, Mary’s story, and hopefully soon, my dollmaking.

Later…

What the hell is going on? I was doing better, but now I just can’t get that woman off my mind! Damn those mother-fucking freeloaders Joely N and Debra V for doing this to me, damn Tammy B, damn the pig Jerry O, damn Paul K, damn Judge H, damn the DA Jackie I and damn God for sitting back and allowing all these people to shit on me time and time again for no reason at all.

Why must I always be hurt over something? If it’s not impossible dreams depressing me, then it’s over a woman I can never have. Hurting over her is better than wanting a kid like I did for what? 4 or 5 years? Anyway, I try to tell myself that I could’ve ended up a lot more hurt if we had gotten together, but it doesn’t really console me. The new millennium has brought an all-time low in depression (though plenty of anger), but trust me, today and yesterday have been quite sad.

I start to think, oh, how nice it’d be if she had to return to M Dorm and be flooded with a ton of memories of me, making her be the one to be depressed for a change, as well as maybe feel a little guilty. But then I tell myself to come back down to earth. She wouldn’t remember and think of me, but maybe for a second. As for guilt – well – she’s obviously okay with what she’s done or else she’d have at least called or written to tell me she hasn’t forgotten about me, but we can’t get together. God wouldn’t allow her to return while Mary was still there. That way I can go on hurting without any answers and wondering what happened and how and why she could blow me off like she did.

When I first got out of jail, Tom said that since there was no fighting any of the corrupt, prejudiced assholes that put me in the predicament I’m in today and have been in and will be in for quite a while to come, anything he did would be strictly revenge. He insisted, though, that he’d never tell me what he was going to do, saying that the less I knew the better. At first I was all for it, though I always figured he was just saying this to try to make me feel better since he’s never been the vengeful type. Then as time went on I was like, hey, this is Arizona. The strictest state in the country along with Texas. And we’re Tom and Jodi S. We can’t do shit even if we could cuz we’d just end up in prison for sure. Maybe God would let someone else get away with fucking someone over, but we could never get away with fucking someone over, and certainly not these precious freeloaders he’s been hell-bent on protecting and worshiping ever since the get-go. If we were so much to as dare to even give them dirty looks, we’d be going down big time. So I told Tom, even though I know he’s not going to do anything simply because he couldn’t do anything severe enough to them without exposing himself anyway, that just like with everyone else who’s fucked us over, there’s nothing we can do. We just have to let it go and hope that God really truly does have good reasons for protecting these people, though I can’t imagine what they could be. Nonetheless, if he’s gone this far with covering their asses, he’s not going to stop. Remember, I told him, people can do whatever they want to with us. It’s us that are forbidden from doing anything, be it fighting back against those fucking us over, or fucking over someone for no reason ourselves. If it’s us, we can’t get away with it, so drop any plans you may have. Meanwhile, I’ll just cry over Teddy Bear for 4 or 5 years till it’s on to something else to get me down or perhaps piss me off and frustrate the hell out of me.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 23, 2002 Got a letter from Mary today. She told me Chavez told her Teddy Bear’s still at Madison, but is now on 1st shift. Also, she could return anytime since DOs are transferred regularly.

I was surprised it was Chavez to tell her this since she had told me she was moving to Vegas at the end of ’01. Or is that just something you tell a stalker? Nah, I’m sure she wasn’t worried about me and that she meant it. She probably just changed her mind and decided to stay in Arizona.

Anyway, I know she won’t return while Mary’s there. If God wanted me to have some answers or at least a shot at some answers, then he’d have made sure Teddy Bear was there after the letter was sent. Yet it’s obvious he doesn’t want me getting any answers. To him, she was just another tool he could use to hurt me, and I should’ve known better than to even think of praying for help in getting over her. I should’ve known my prayers would fall upon deaf ears. He’s probably up there laughing at me right now! Just when I think I’m going to get over her and that perhaps something up there really is helping me to get through, tears sting my eyes when I remember and think of her. I tell myself I won’t let her make me cry, but then again, maybe I should let it all out, maybe it’d help and maybe I’d feel better. So, like Helen would suggest I do, I allowed myself to cry for a few minutes earlier.

I gotta wonder, though – if I could tell her how hurt I’ve been over her ignoring me, would she feel bad, or would she just look at me and laugh? And how would she react if another female inmate started flirting with her that she was attracted to? Would she tell them too, that she’d respond to them if they waited a year before contacting her?

I know, though, that regardless of why she blew me off, what we had going back in jail was real. I’d be willing to bet Bailey, Joy and Jade that it would’ve escalated to kisses and a bit of touchy-feely too, had we both been there longer.

Oh, Teddy Bear! You’ll never know just how much I love you, never know just how much you hurt me.

I’m not too alarmed over this, but I discovered something a bit disturbing as the sun was setting. Tom had just left for work and I heard a pop. The kind the house makes when it’s settling. That’s probably just what it was, but this one was pretty loud. It almost sounded like something hit the back or front door. I was in my office when I heard it. So, I got up and looked out the kitchen window. That’s when I noticed a beverage can of some kind, though I can’t be sure that’s what it was, nestled up against the long-dead garden fence. I know the wind’s capable of blowing cans around and I’m not saying anyone’s been lurking around, but I just think it’s a weird place for one to end up on this property. I can see one ending up in front with it being almost a straight shot from the road to the house. But in back of the house and especially so close to it, wouldn’t a can have to get hung up on the brush no matter which direction it came from? Cans aren’t as light as paper or plastic shopping bags that can fly up over trees and brush easily.

Again, I’m not saying it means anything, but you know, I really wish at times those freeloaders would have the balls to face me here on our property. That is, unarmed and one at a time, of course. I couldn’t fight them with the law, but I could at least try damn hard with my fists and rage. Tom and Mary are probably right, though. They’re not going to fuck with me out here without connections. They wouldn’t have the guts. That’s why they cowered behind the law in the first place.

I jokingly said to Tom that I ought to get a shirt that says “In God I Do Not Trust” and he said, “Now why would you want to do that and set yourself up for harassment?”

Well, I don’t, but you know, there comes a time when I have to be me. Period. Regardless of what others may think. I can’t worry about other people’s poor, poor feelings all my life. If they’ve got a problem with me, then that’s their problem. As long as I don’t push my views on others, I’d be doing nothing wrong by getting a shirt that said that, and dammit, I’m not going to kiss this society’s ass! I don’t owe them shit and they don’t owe me shit. All we owe each other is respect and the right to be ourselves.

Anyway, he explained to me what all the fuss is all about. To me, it sounds like nothing more than wishful thinking, but again, we all have a right to our beliefs. According to him, most people believe life’s one big test and that it’s the devil and not God that causes bad things to happen. The test is to determine who goes to hell and who lives eternally with God, but I’m sorry, he should be stepping in more often. This is just my opinion, but sometimes a little divine intervention, as they call it, is necessary. Just like Art should’ve defended us against Doe, so should he when the going gets really rough. It was one thing to “test” me by sitting back and letting the freeloaders shit on us like they did when we were still living together, but shouldn’t he and couldn’t he have put his foot down once it came down to going to jail? I think that’s when he should’ve stepped in and said, “Hey, enough’s enough already! Leave this poor girl alone. She never did a damn thing to provoke you, yet you’ve been picking on her for no reason at all other than that she asked that your music be lowered” (and that I was Jewish, but I didn’t know that at the time).

But no, to add insult to injury after all the shit they put us through on N. 21 Ave., I had to go to jail, live in a shoebox with a few psychos and noise that makes the NHA seem like it was as quiet as where I am now, take cold showers, eat inedible spicy food, get shit for sleep, then get my head played with and my heartbroken, not to mention all the shit and stress I’ve gone through since being out. So, when is enough ever enough? Although barely, I survived my family, I survived Brattleboro and Vermont, I survived shitty “friends” and neighbors, I survived not seeing many dreams come true, and I’ve survived jail. What more do I need to survive and what for?

I don’t believe in heaven and hell. Not the way some people do. Meaning, I don’t think God hates gays or anything like that. Hell, he even has a heart for perverts and murderers! I believe this simply because I find it hard to believe they’d exist if he really had anything against them. If I was going to create a world, why would I create horrible people along with it? I believe he can hate certain individuals and families, but not whole groups of people.

I asked Tom what he thinks is the case after we die and he said he doesn’t know. Neither do I. I don’t know if we’re reincarnated or if we just blink out and that’s it or what.

On the lighter side and to speak of one of my passions in life, PG has a couple of cute new $25 fairies that Tom said we can get, along with $40 Amelia, by the end of the year. I know we’ll get free shipping, and if the discount coupons are good we should save $15 on the whole order. One of them is the same mold, except for the arms and legs, as my Valentine Fairy. They did her and Emerald over with the same color hair, but this time around Emerald’s is short and Valentine’s is curly. I don’t like Emerald’s makeover, but Valentine, called Rainbow in this version, wears a cute, colorful dress. So does Rainbow’s Jewels which also comes with a resin mouse. I can’t show pictures to Mary cuz of the copy guard that site has, so I’ll just wait till I get them and shoot my own.

They were having “Hawaiian” Day at work and they were giving out these shell necklaces to the employees, so Tom brought home his. It’s kind of nice with cream-colored shells. Maybe a doll can wear it someday, but for now it’s on the doorknob of the back door.

What the fuck? Did Dan move back into the area? I’ve been hearing loud motors on and off since nightfall, yet it doesn’t sound anywhere close, fortunately.

Well, it’s just after 11 PM now. Been up since 1 PM. I’m going to hang loose, listen to some music and watch TV till I crash. Maybe read, too. I watch a lot of the legal and forensics stuff, old Charlie’s Angels reruns, and I just taped a new movie of Stephen King’s with psychics, ghosts, and all that fun stuff I love.

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 21, 2002 PG’s now having a sale where you get $10 off any orders over $100 and $5 off any orders over $60, and I’m like, oh wow, what a sale! A lousy $5 or $10. If it were $20 or $30, that’d be more of a sale.

Got a couple of letters and book clips from Mary. I asked her if she’d be interested in any of my journaling now that she’s got the whole jailhouse journal, and if so, what would she be interested in? The 80s, 90s, current? Or should I just pull excerpts out at random? She should recognize people’s names from my autobiography. That way, if I pull a 1987 clip pertaining to Nervous, she won’t be like – who the hell is he?

She said she thought the prairie dog pics were so cute and that she has them on the wall. That is, I’m sure, till Misery tells her to take them down.

She said it was up to me what name I wanted to use in her book. At first I thought, well, I like the name Dawn better than Jodi, but then I decided I’ll just be Jodi. That way, if the book ever does get published, I can tell people, like my in-laws, to look for my name in the book.

It may be a bit premature, but has she thought of a name for the book? I asked her. I know that if I had written a book on my experience with the freeloaders/law/jail, I’d have called it, It Happened to Me, It Could Happen to You.

I suggested book titles for her book like For the Love of Gretchen or For All the Gretchens Out There.

Maybe something more dramatic like Run, Before It’s Too Late!

She’s always saying she doesn’t remember where she left off, so I suggested she keep a separate piece of paper to keep track of subjects so she’ll know where she left off. She could even write them on the walls or ceilings like I used to!

I asked her if she thought Hope knowingly tried to kill her kid, or if she thinks she almost did in the heat of the moment. She said she doesn’t know and tries not to think about it cuz it’s better that way. Yeah, I hear her as far as how it’s sometimes best not to know the truth about others. Especially if the truth could be something you don’t want to know/hear. Makes it easier that way. I still just cannot believe they’ve been together this long! I’ll bet if I were in that jail for 10 years I wouldn’t get the blessing of residing with the same person for more than 4 weeks.

She’s very lucky to have a compassionate PO which she describes the guy to be. He didn’t even violate her for running! Scot’s the type that’d violate someone just for thinking about running. Anyway, I think that what helps Mary get more compassion than I have is a combination of the fact that there’s a dead kid involved, her overall appearance (she’s young and pretty), and her friendly demeanor. She doesn’t look like a criminal, you don’t talk like a criminal, you don’t act like a criminal, not that I do. Also, there were no “minorities” involved. No one with legal connections to use against her, either.

I had asked her how she could’ve run to Seattle with Justin after he killed her kid and she said she was so brainwashed by him that she didn’t know what she was doing. I could never imagine anyone ever being able to brainwash me in the way he did with her cuz I’m such a stubborn, defiant bitch. Especially after getting screwed over the way I did when I was a younger, too-nice and too-trusting person. It’s taught me not to put much stock in what others say/do. I can understand, though, that with her being such a sweet, loving, mellow person how a sick twist like him would take advantage of her. And I can see that with her being as young as she was and with not having much of a family to turn to it’d be easier to succumb to abuse like that. I figured he had to have either brainwashed or threatened her into running to Seattle. I knew she wouldn’t just up and willingly go along with it, but damn! I had no idea of the hit he put on her! He said he had a hit out on her and that she was grateful when the FBI rescued her. I don’t know why he had to have a hit on her when he could’ve killed her himself. He’d already killed the kid himself. What? Would having two murders on his hands be too much to handle?

If Teddy Bear won’t return, then I wish Palma would at least get back there so she can tell her I kind of miss her.

Anyway, she tells me yet again how grateful she is to have me as a friend she is and how I’ve taught her it’s ok to trust again, but no, it’s not ok. Certainly not with just anyone! I live like a hermit for a reason. I have Tom, my pets, and her as my pen pal/friend, and that’s enough. It would’ve been nice to have Teddy Bear as a side dish, but side dishes weren’t meant to be, obviously, so I make do with what I have. It’s not that what I have isn’t good enough, it’s just that Teddy Bear got me all psyched up for nothing. To me, she’d have been an extra bonus to add to what I already have, but instead, my extra bonus will be dollmaking.

I’m slightly tired today. Sometimes, for no apparent reason, I wake up a little earlier than I’d have liked and I can’t go back to sleep. I totally do not miss all those wake-up calls in jail! I do not envy Mary with the are-you-okay shit from the nurses, the clothes exchanges, people screaming on their hour out, etc.

Wonder if she’s still a night person? Sometimes when I’m up at 2 AM, I wonder, is Mary up now, too? Maybe listening to her radio?

TUESDAY, AUGUST 20, 2002 Mary sent one envelope with a quick note and some drafts, and I got the 3 envelopes back. From now on I’ll send one picture sheet at a time. God, this world is so hell-bent on rules and control! I mean, who fucking cares how many pictures they get? Why do people make such big deals out of nothing? It’s only pictures!

Tom and I were just talking about how nice it is to be on the same wavelength as far as what we want to do in life goes. I mean, I know I’m going to be the main dollmaker, but he’s so into it with me and that’s cool. I can tell this by the way he’s been bringing up the subject on his own, doing research, etc. He doesn’t try to steer clear of the subject or make excuses. He’s been putting his actions where his mouth is on this one and that’s cool. Not that we can’t do things that the other isn’t into at times. He doesn’t have to like the same music I like and I don’t have to like the same shows he likes, but when it comes to more serious goals and dreams, mutuality is nice. Not that being married to him isn’t worth it, but it’s tough when we disagree on big things, cuz then we have to try to figure out who should get their way. This is just my personal opinion, but I’d always try my best to encourage him if he wanted to get into something I didn’t. If it wasn’t anything that could harm either one of us in any way, I would feel obligated to support the one I love.

I didn’t want to be a singer for very long after we met, so it didn’t really matter that that wasn’t mutual and although things worked out for the better and I’m glad we never had a kid, his not supporting me when I did want one was wrong. Again, this is just me, but I think he should’ve been blunt up front and stayed that way if he was sure he didn’t want a kid, or if he did, he should’ve gone to a therapist and tried to fix his problem (not 3 years later). Instead, he made vague references about not wanting one in the beginning, then changed his story to sound good to me while his actions would totally go against his words, as he’d make one excuse after another. Never should you lead a loved one on and say you’re going to do something you don’t that you know is important to them.

Anyway, hopefully we’ll both have learned from the past, and hopefully, if I decided I wanted to open a restaurant, though I can’t imagine why I ever would, he’d be there to support me even if he disagreed with it, just as I’d be there to support him if he decided he wanted to get a bunch of smelly horses that’d eat up a great deal of our time and money. Sure I’d bitch about it along the way, but who the hell would I be to stop him? And who the hell would I be to string him along, make excuses, and not do what I said I was going to do? Hopefully, we won’t ever again be faced with non-mutual goals/dreams, but if we are, we are, and we’ll have to support each other. One doesn’t have the right to play God with the other’s dreams. And one’s only choices shouldn’t have to be to either give up what they want or leave the person.

I was watching an old Law & Order show. The DA was saying that a certain sentence was too harsh and to go to someplace like Arizona if they thought they wanted to impose such a sentence. Not New York, one of the most tolerable places. Yeah, I’m not surprised Arizona was mentioned. Arizona, the state that tolerates absolutely nothing but hatred towards Jews and gays.

You know, I gotta wonder about that black bitch and her sick cock. I mean, I have a feeling I’m not the first one they’ve used their black pig pal to drag into court out of spite, revenge and hate. And surely I couldn’t be the last. Just like there’s no such thing as a one-time rapist, these aren’t the kinds of people that would use and abuse the law against someone they’re pissed off at just once. If any decent lawyer or judge could set aside the “poor, poor minority” attitude this state’s so hooked on, and do a little digging, they may be surprised to see a frightening pattern when it comes to any of these freeloaders. The question is, would they want to see it? That’s the real question, cuz I have a very strong feeling that even if you waved the truth in their faces, they wouldn’t want to know it.

MONDAY, AUGUST 19, 2002 It’s nice to have a break from Mary’s stuff so I can catch up on my own shit. I fine-tuned more of ’94 and printed out what I’ve done so far. I decided to quit the fine-tuning of when I go to jail, so this means I printed out all of ’01 and what I’ve done so far of ’02. So I’ll work my way up from mid-’94, which is where I’m at now, to October 30th of ’00.

Little did I know when on October 29th of 2000 I said that tomorrow was my “final round” with those freeloaders! Boy, was I wrong! I couldn’t have been more wrong if I tried! In a sense, that was just the beginning. Far from the end. I’m still far enough from the end and like I said, it feels like I’ll never shake free of them. Like I’ll always be counting freeloader time down.

Yesterday evening was windier than it had been in a week, and today while I slept, it drizzled for a minute, according to Tom, who did a lot of straightening up in his office (finally), but still no serious rain.

Mary L replied back saying she liked the foot accents I did on the Irish fairy. She’s also glad she lives where she lives so she doesn’t have to worry about wild creatures. Speaking of which, I got a cute shot of a prairie dog peeking out from under a trench it dug under the water bowl.

I was doing okay for a while there, then Teddy Bear started eating at me again for the millionth time. Oh, how I miss her, and oh how I long to be in her arms getting to know her, getting it on, etc! Being attracted to her was one thing like I was with Palma, but did I really have to go and fall so in love with her too, to make matters worse?! Who knows? Maybe when I’m 40 I’ll be over her. God must not want me to have any answers as to why she blew me off or else she probably wouldn’t have left Estrella. Mary’s my only hope of getting the chance to find out anything if she’d just get her ass back in there before she leaves! Maybe I’ll see if she can find out what the usual deal is as far as where DOs work, for how long, and what the odds are of them ever returning to a place they once worked at.

I think back to the time she told me she didn’t want me to feel slighted when she told me to wait a year before writing to her. Well, how does she think I felt when I got no response to my letter? Doesn’t she know that if I didn’t care about her contacting me I wouldn’t have bothered writing her in the first place?

Well, since I’m sure I’ll be back working again for Mary tomorrow, I’m going to go work for myself now.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 18, 2002 There was a big electrical storm a couple of evenings ago, but as usual, it missed us.

As dull as our land is compared to by the mountains, it’s so beautiful. Yes, Arizona’s best quality is its landscape as its worst are its laws. New England’s best is its bigger, more spread out houses and its worst is its weather.

Sometimes I get the feeling Tom’s not truly happy with me. When Paula asked if he got clingy in fear of losing me to Teddy Bear, I told her no and that he didn’t show any signs of being insecure or worried about losing me to her, and I always assumed it was because he didn’t mind if she and I got it on if that’s what I wanted. But could it be that deep down he was hoping I’d ditch him for her, figuring it’d be easier that way than to dump me? Could it really be that he’s simply putting up with my existence? If I asked him if he were happy with me, I don’t know if I’d get the truth only because he’s quicker to admit something he does want than he is to admit something he doesn’t. If Tom S says he’s against something, he is. If he says it’s something he likes or wants, then maybe it’s true and maybe it isn’t. That’s why I have to go by his actions rather than his words, but one has to do that with just about anybody. Actions really do speak louder than words.

My only complaint lately is his snapping at me. Maybe he doesn’t mean to come off as a grouch or realize he’s doing it, but this has been going on for a while now and it really bugs me. He comes off as defensive, annoyed and impatient when answering my questions or responding to statements. I’ve made it clear to him how I feel about this, but it hasn’t changed anything, though I’ll admit he’s been pretty mellow today, talking in casual tones. Well, I’d rather be with him and have him snap at me than leave, even if I had the means to do so and to fend for myself. It’s only a tone of voice after all and I know things could be worse. It’s not like he’s taking swings at me or smashing our stuff. Then I don’t know what I’d do. All I know is that I’m not Paula or Tammy who thrive on and get off on abuse. They love abuse and to be called names and swung at. It’s mostly cuz they’re sympathy junkies who also love to wallow in self-pity.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 17, 2002 Well, someone’s playing music out there tonight. I could hear a few faint beats when I was in the bedroom, but I couldn’t say where it was coming from. That’s nothing compared to the sounds of A Tower – ugh! I do not miss it! But I know it’s only a matter of time before I’m once again held prisoner someplace I don’t want to be. There were the camps, Brattleboro, Valleyhead, a few days at the Springfield crisis center, a handful of noisy apartments, a noisy house, jail – what’ll it be next? And when? How long will I get to live in peace in a place I’m happy in before I end up in some shitty, chaotic place I can’t even hear myself think in?

You know, it may sound funny, but I was crying a bit last night when I thought of Houdini. I mean, I knew he was going to die sooner or later, and with Little Buddy and the time that’s gone by, it’s not that I miss him, but it’s the circumstances connected to him. You know, those freeloaders that relate to just about every single event in my life that’s gone on for the last 6 years. He’s just one of the millions of things they’ve had a hand in. The day I was sentenced, that was it for me and Houdini. Tom got to have him for 6 more months, but for me, it was over.

I still miss and think of Teddy Bear too, of course, going back and forth in my mind between wondering why she ditched me, to intimate thoughts of her. I couldn’t get it on with just any woman simply because they’re women, though. I have to be attracted to them. Hopefully, though, I won’t know anyone ever again long enough to become attracted to them in the first place. I’d rather a life of celibacy if Tom and I are gonna remain platonic.

It’s like each curse the freeloaders put on me led to another. First they had me thrown in jail for absolutely no reason at all other than that I was a complaining Jew, and as if that’s not bad enough, I had to go and fall in love and in lust with someone who led me on and broke my heart. She knew I liked her and I knew she liked me, so what happened? I still think it was the combination of the distance, the being married, and her meeting someone in between.

Still, I have to wonder – did she actually end up doing me a favor? Would things have been worse if we had gotten together? Would we have been just friends or would we have become part-time lovers and would I have felt guilty if we had? Well, perhaps it really is a good thing I’ll never know! The only thing I know that couldn’t have happened is that I wouldn’t have traded in Tom for her for a million bucks and then some.

I’m now up to a total of 305 photo album viewings. The rats are in the lead with 57 viewings of the first one and 27 of the second one. The two Mice albums have 46 and 10 viewings. Assorted Pets has 8, Our Wildlife has 37, Our Land has 54, and the 3 doll albums have 18, 23, and 24.

At 9:00 Tom and I ran up to Circle K for some snacks. It was still quite hot out. As we were returning he pointed out how invisible our house is when there are no lights on and it’s true. Unless the moonlight is really bright, you could drive by it and not even know it was there.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 16, 2002 Yesterday I was surprised to receive an email from the dentist thanking me for sharing my albums which the staff liked. I didn’t expect any email. Especially since it’s been a while since they checked out the albums.

It definitely is an old fire truck they have back there that’s a collectible. It’s so fucking ugly to have to see, too. It really stands out. Again, though, better seen than heard. An eyesore’s always better than having my ear assaulted with thumping bass.

It’s so damn hot out there right now that there’s not much animal activity. Around 6:00, though, it’s quite a farm out there with the prairie dogs, rabbits and birds.

Last night I was so damn nervous about reporting. I kept telling myself, you’ve been out over a year and nothing’s happened yet. This should be easy for you.

But it’s not. When it comes to dealing with the law, you just never know what to expect. Well, I know I certainly don’t. For all I know, I could walk in there one day and Scot could say to me, “The “victim” got mugged. I think you did it. You’re under arrest.”

Anyway, speaking of the sorry black bitch herself, he never mentioned her. Not even a word about how much time I have left! And to further shock us, he was even friendly today. Usually, he’s just polite, but he was actually quite perky today. I’ve never seen him so talkative and relaxed. It was the least serious I’ve ever seen him be. He started off by saying he’d never seen us “kids” out so early, but we were just two weeks ago. Then the talk turned mostly to cars. We told him that the main reason we were out early was to beat the heat since we agreed to forget about fixing the AC and just get an old truck to fix up.

“Know anybody with a piece of shit?” I asked him.

Then he said his mother was in an accident that totaled her car, though fortunately she wasn’t hurt, and is looking for a new car.

As I figured, he said he was from Arizona when I asked.

“Never lived anywhere else,” he said.

When I mentioned the 3 states I’ve lived in, he said the west coast must really differ from the east coast.

“Oh, yeah,” I told him, “but they both have their pros and cons as with any place.”

Arizona’s pros are its beautiful landscape, the more modern buildings, the prairie dogs, and the lack of severe cold, snow and humidity.

Its cons are the harsh, unfair laws, the big, year-round bugs, the bleachy-tasting tap water, and the way most houses are so close and apartment walls are too thin.

New England’s pros are its tap water and the fact that the laws are much more reasonable, including more rights/protection when it comes to Jews and gays. The laws tend to be fairer as far as not favoring certain groups of people. Also, the people aren’t as sensitive and vindictive. In Arizona, they’re quicker to take more things personally. Being liked and accepted is more important to most people out here.

Its cons are its cold, humid, snowy weather, the mosquitoes, the old ugly buildings and the high cost of living.

I just saw a couple of prairie dogs playing. I can tell the difference when they’re playing like rats versus fighting like mice.

Anyway, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that I don’t have to report for 3 whole weeks since there are 5 weeks in August. I didn’t think there’d be 3 weeks between reports till November. Since he recently came to the house, I can relax, enjoy life and have it all to myself for 3 whole weeks!!! What a wonderful treat that is! I sure do feel a lot more relaxed than I did last night and this morning! Now I don’t have to worry about schedules or anything. Not for a while, anyway.

After going to the bathroom at Circle K (now I have no clue as to when he’ll test me) and getting some snacks, we went to the post office. They have boxes available, but first they want proof of our physical address, so Tom will take care of that soon enough.

All the crashing I was doing cuz of the faulty fan and processor did corrupt a few pages in the 1994 journal I’m currently working on, but I was able to replace it with a backup, so that’s good.

I went to brush dust balls out of Maria’s hair and it wasn’t very easy. Talk about a shitty wig! I couldn’t get a comb through it to save my life. So, I decided to braid it so it’d be easier to dust, but because it’s so curly, it was hard to braid. Finally, I decided to cut it. I didn’t mean to cut it all the way up to her shoulders, but it adds variety since I don’t have any dolls with shoulder-length hair, and it actually looks kind of cute. It frames her face nicely. Also, her hairstyle doesn’t matter that much cuz she’s got a sheer black and gold veil over it.

Other than that, I changed both the rats’ and mice’s cages, and that’s pretty much it. Unless I counted wrong, I’m two days late for my period, which is rather unusual for me. At least I can’t be pregnant!

Just like I couldn’t wait to get MP3s, I can’t wait to make dolls and get more of the dolls I’ve been wanting for a long time now. I also think it’d be neat to add a blue-eyed blond Joy, a green-eyed redheaded Joy, and a black Joy to my Indian Joy. My Indian Joy has a short dress on, so I think I’d do one of the others in a long dress, one in shorts, and one in long pants.

I printed out a large pearl-colored dewy rose and put it on the side of the bar in the kitchen and it goes so well with the whitewash.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 15, 2002 Justin and Paula left me another message shortly after I last wrote. All she wrote was that she liked the stuff and that she’d call me, but sure enough, she never did. Tom suggested that maybe she was too broke to afford a long-distance call and was too embarrassed to admit it, but I think she simply didn’t feel like calling. She’s just one of those who says she’s going to do things she doesn’t do.

Meanwhile, I told her I wasn’t going to keep spending money on paper, envelopes, ink and stamps when I can simply email her my journals on a monthly basis. Whether or not she remembers to check for them and whether or not the kid lets her know they’re there if she doesn’t, is a whole different story.

Speaking of mail, Mary’s still bombarding me with drafts. Damn! I didn’t think she’d ever write this much. What sucks is that she got a rejection slip for 3 letters due to excessive pictures. But I didn’t go over the 5 picture limit, so they’re either sending them back cuz I sent too many envelopes’ worth at once, or maybe they’re counting the picture I use for address labels as an extra picture. I don’t know. I’ve mailed multiple picture envelopes before with picture labels, so as Mary said, maybe there’s someone new in the mailroom. I’ll just make sure from now on not to send her pictures till she’s had enough time to get previous ones.

While I don’t care the least bit for her exes, her parents, or her father-in-law, I admire her mother-in-law for having the balls to admit her son is the monster that he is. Most parents wouldn’t admit that about their kids even if it were true.

I agree with her suggesting she get an abortion only because being broke and on the run from a madman seems like no time to be having a baby. Also, there is scientific proof suggesting that if a child is born to someone with more aggressive genetics, then there’s a higher chance that it too, will grow up to be aggressive. She tried to point this out to her but had it been me in her shoes, though, I’d have gone with the fact that I was homeless and not financially set. That would’ve been plenty enough reason for me to get an abortion, even if I wanted a kid. Sometimes one must follow their head and not their heart and do what’s best, even if it’s not what they want.

However, I disagree with her not sending her to Mexico like she asked her to. Actually, I think she should’ve sent her to a country with no extradition treaty. Especially if she had the means to do so which she apparently did. That’s what Tom and I plan to do if I’m ever framed again. We’re just gonna skip the courtroom altogether next time around and book it to a non-extradition country, even if that means leaving our possessions behind and the people we know. Most of the major countries do extradition, so it’d more than likely be a small country.

I got some excellent prairie dog pics the other day. I managed to get just a couple of feet away from one of them that was munching on the popcorn I gave it. The pictures were so close and so clear you could see its whiskers. They’re getting so brave, too. Now they come running up to me when I go out there. They’re braver than the Rat Runner and Little Ratsy. Even the rabbits are braving up to me.

Yesterday was Mary’s birthday so I emailed her the prairie dog pictures and wished her a happy birthday. I think she’s 47 now.

I didn’t weigh myself today, but I was down from 126 to 123 pounds as of yesterday. Maybe this diet of having just under 1400 calories, which is a million times easier than trying to stick to 1000 calories, will make me lose a little weight after all. Not much, but maybe 5-10 pounds. I think that in order to get under 110-115, I would have to have around 1000 calories, but I’m not going to put myself out like that, like I said before, just to lose weight that’ll only come right back.

All week it’s been miserably hot. Sunny and clear, too. Tom said that since the end of the monsoon season brings cooler weather; that’s a sign saying there are more monsoons to come.

But when? It’s already mid-August.

I’m a bit nervous right now as I always am before seeing Scot. I just never know what to expect. I could go in there and be told I’m under arrest for killing someone in Japan for all I know, or he could mention the classes again. I asked Tom if he thought they just hadn’t gotten around to checking into the class bullshit and getting back to Scot, or if they deleted it, and he said he thinks they just don’t care and that they were just doing their job. Well, someone obviously cared enough to order it, but hopefully he’s right and the worst I’ll be in for tomorrow is the usual – him telling me how much time I have left or telling me that he wouldn’t even think of considering suggesting I try to get off probation early because I have a “victim” in my case. If he doesn’t test me tomorrow, then who knows when he will? That’s the least of my worries, though.

It figures that two days this week Tom was out during the first two hours of the day which he normally shows up right after he just did. Am I ever going to get my chance to say “no” to anything connected to these damn freeloaders? Of course not. I’m sure he’ll never again come by when Tom’s out, and I know he won’t come by when we’re both out. I just can’t believe he hasn’t woken me up since February!

Anything’s better than sitting in a jail cell with Melinda Brinkman, but I just think it’s sad that I have to see him so often. It’s so, so unnecessary, and of course, another reminder of the freeloaders and what they’ve put me through, not that I could forget if I wanted to. So rarely do I get the privilege of seeing him just twice a month. I saw him on the 2nd, then the 8th, and then tomorrow which will be the 16th. That’s once a week for 3 weeks! And all for what?

Last night I noticed a big truck with flashing red lights by the rental that I thought was an ambulance, but it sat still for several minutes, then it pulled into the street for a few more minutes, then backed up to the house, then a second later it pulled up a few feet, cut its lights, and just sat there. It’s still there, too. It looks like a fire truck, but I can’t say for sure. Tom said that emergency vehicles flash red and blue lights and not just red, so maybe it’s a tow truck of some kind. I don’t know, but it’s so ugly. I can’t wait till we don’t have to see them anymore, though that’s going to be such a long time from now.

So now they’ve got a red truck to add to the navy SUV and white van. It seems most of Maricopa owns at least 3 vehicles of some kind. I’d be willing to bet we’re the only ones with just one around here.

A few days ago my computer was completely unbootable. I had Tom give me a quieter power supply box that was fucked up and corrupted some programs I have. One of the fans was fucked up, too. See what I get when I try to fight noise? Anyway, he fixed it for me.

I’ve been making some posters. I decided my office was due for a change, but that’s not the only room I’m decorating. I’m also putting some in the bedroom. On the closet door, the retreat door and the bedroom door. I’m going to do a big one to put in the den and maybe even one for the utility area. I’m using my wallpaper pics for them. Things like waterfalls, dogs, cats and other scenic pics.

I decided I might not bother learning to paint a black slip by making a black doll in class. Regardless of whether or not I think they’re assholes, black is just not my favorite. I don’t like overly pale skin or overly dark skin. I like it somewhere in between. So, maybe I’ll see if I can do some of the dolls I’ve been wanting for a while now like Donna Rubert’s Chyna or Linda Mason’s Alexa. Or maybe I’ll do either sweet 16 Bailey or a small, green-eyed version of Jade. I saw a picture of Bailey at 16, and yup, it sure did look like an older version of my toddler Bailey.

The original plan was to order Jewel on the 1st, but I’ve changed my mind. See, I only wanted her cuz I thought her foot accents looked really cool, but instead, I made my own on the Fairy of Cork. I painted gold chrome bands around the tops of her feet, with lines extending downwards in front. Then I glued 3 small mint green heart-shaped jewels on the tops of her feet, close to where her leg starts. It looks way cool.

Now I can save up enough change to get that Amelia doll that’s really grown on me. I won’t be ordering her in September, though. Hopefully October, but whenever I can is when I will.

I don’t know if they’ll be open after Scot gets done running its mouth about the same old shit, but we’re going to stop at the PO here in town and see if we can open a box there. We’re curious to see how the mail service is there. Especially when it comes to receiving dolls! And I highly doubt Amelia will be out of stock.

MONDAY, AUGUST 12, 2002 Oh, I am so incredibly sick of Paula’s rudeness and not doing what she says she’ll do! I ask her a simple little thing like to call and leave a message if no one answers as soon as she gets the package to let me know what she thinks and if everything got to her in one piece, and instead, I learn from Justin that it came. But that’s all he said. Not one thank you, not one comment about it – nothing. How could asking her to call when she got it be such a hard thing to do and why is she so ungrateful? I didn’t have to spend the time and money on her that I did. I just thought the stuff would do better with her than sitting in the closet here. But do I get even the slightest bit of appreciation for it? No, of course not. I can’t even get a lousy little phone call! I’m so done with this self-centered girl who’s got nothing better to do than bitch about her man problems and lie about mail she’s sent. As soon as I can get ahold of her to settle my own curiosity as to whether or not anything broke along the way, we’re done. We’re so done. No more calls, no more letters. I’ll respond to emails and I’ll answer the phone if she happens to call when I’m up and not busy, but that’s about it. I’m not writing her and I’m not calling her other than to find out about the package. Enough of this one-way friendship!

Later…

Just got a hold of Paula. I woke her up since it was only 6:15 there, but I figured I probably wouldn’t get a hold of her so easily once she was awake. By then she’ll be fighting with her men. Although I know better, she says she’ll call later. Meanwhile, she got the package and nothing broke, so that’s good, even if I didn’t get a “thanks” from her either.

Now she’s free to go to jail.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 11, 2002 Since today’s the first day in a while that I don’t have anything of Mary’s to type, I think I’ll spend most of the day fine-tuning the ’94 file which is the one I’m currently working on.

Tom put a quieter power supply box in my computer and refilled my ink cartridges.

Damn those mother-fucking freeloaders! Aaaarrrrrgggghhhh!!! I want to take a nap now, but they won’t let me. They own me, after all, even on the weekends. Because of them, I need to keep my schedule on days so we can report early when it’s cooler. If I crashed at 2 PM, I’d be up between 6-8 PM, then wouldn’t go to bed again till tomorrow morning, the time I want to be getting up.

Well, maybe someday my life will belong to me and every damn thing I do won’t revolve around the black bitch in some way. Then again, God will just appoint me a new tormentor.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 10, 2002 So many of today’s singers sound the same. Whatever happened to individuality and originality? You know, singers like Stevie Nicks and Cyndi Lauper? Ok, so Stevie couldn’t sing all that well and Cyndi could be obnoxious, but at least they were unique. I like different, but most of the world doesn’t. You know how it is with most people; we all gotta dress the same, act the same, do the same things, etc.

I wish they’d make ACs that really are temperature sensitive instead of just claiming that they are, but the damn thing doesn’t come on more often the hotter it gets or come on less often the cooler it gets.

Well, I still don’t feel the need to have sex with anyone. Meaning, I don’t feel anything either way. I’m rather indifferent to the idea, but if an opportunity presents itself that interests me, I might go for it. I’m not gonna necessarily stay celibate all my life simply cuz he doesn’t have any desires. That wouldn’t be fair to me any more than it’d be fair of me to insist he never watch another basketball game again because basketball doesn’t interest me, too. I don’t see it ever happening, but if I ever met a woman I was attracted and it was mutual – well – if I could just get her to come to the house, then who knows? I’ll leave it to fate as far as who, if anyone, I ever have sex with again. If he suddenly grew interested and hit me for sex, then I’d feel obligated to give it to him whether or not I wanted to because that’d be my duty, so to speak, as his wife, wouldn’t it? If not, then I guess we’re both free to do whatever we want. Whether or not we ever got it on again with each other, though it seems we’ve settled into being more like loving friends, I would prefer not to meet anyone new cuz meeting new people usually means it was done under some pretty uncool circumstances. Something bad would have to happen for me to meet someone I was attracted to, regardless of whether or not Tom and I are platonic, and it hardly seems worth the 20-second orgasm.

It’s still so weird, though, even to this day, just how screwy our past sex lives were for the most part. What’s even weirder is how he’d react to my being turned off. You’d think that that’d make a man a bit more self-conscious and eager to change to both please the woman and to prove themselves a man like they love to do, but not Tom. Instead, he seemed rather amused by it all. It’s like he got a kick out of seeing me feel like a fool, or when I’d be embarrassed for him, or just totally turned off. This is partly why I think some of it was intentional. It was like my displeasure was his pleasure.

In case I didn’t mention it before, I went out by where the trailer was and beat the sticks into the ground that were used as grave markers. I decided to just throw the not-so-special animals into the brush when they die. The wildlife will gobble them up in no time. As for the special ones, they get buried closer to the house, though there’s no saying that the wildlife won’t dig through to them.

Though it’s been quiet today, we’re pretty sure the cause of the computer squeaking came from the power supply box, so Tom’s going to replace it sometime.

I may put off dying my hair for a year or two when I go to trim it cuz it’s really fried my hair. Dye and perms are the worst things you can do to your hair.

Got my weekly photo album statistics and now one of the rat albums is in the lead.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 9, 2002 In a week or two we’ll be closing out our Tempe PO box and opening one in Maricopa. Should I bother giving it to Paula in case she decides to ever write for real? Well, it’ll be on the return so she’ll have it anyway.

Both the prairie dogs and the rabbits lay down nestled up against the water bowl at times. It’s so cute. I got some more pictures, including a couple with the prairie dogs climbing the little tree out front, and I updated my wildlife album. I also sent Mary the link to that album so she can see the new additions. I printed a picture sheet out for the other Mary, too.

Tom said that the car by the shacks is an old junker that nobody drives and that it’s been there for a week.

I don’t know why, but today I was pleasantly surprised to see that they had a whole page full of new wallpaper thumbnails. I got a few new ones. I usually get some every day between Webshots and the community Webshots sites.

With my piggy bank money on 9/1, I had planned to get Jewel, the last of 3 dolls in one of the fairy series I don’t yet have (unless Tom wanted it for something for him like socks, shorts, etc.), but I only have a little over $12. If these discount coupons are any good, then I need at least $17. So, if Tom doesn’t want the money, I’ll get her as soon as I save up $6 more. I’m definitely going to wait till we take classes to decide where and when to get the two vinyls I want. I’m also going to wait till we have a truck before I go getting the palm tree for the corner in the dining area.

With my birthday and Christmas money, the things I want most, unless I see something better, will easily fit into the amount I’ll be getting, and that’s the tree, the two vinyls and Amelia. Amelia’s really grown on me. She’s not usually what I go for, either, cuz she’s a blond, blue-eyed Victorian. I hate most Victorian dresses cuz they’re so frilly, but this one’s not too bad. It’s light pink with lace and rosebuds. She wears a nice pendant and has an awesome face. Her eyes are pretty realistic looking. A lot like Bailey’s. She also has yellow-blond hair, which is something I don’t really have. Most of my blondes are dark blondes. Wheat blondes, you could say. She’s 22” and is normally $40 and is by Donna Rubert. She comes with a working parasol, too.

Maybe I’ll be able to squeeze a rat mug and a mouse pad in there, too. Of course, I also wouldn’t mind an electric razor, and I really wouldn’t mind a coffee grinder.

We’re now pretty sure that the leak in my shower is in the wall. When we first got the house, the sink in the second bath leaked as well as an area underneath the house that the lazy Mexicans just couldn’t take the time to tighten all the way. Well, we’re thinking this is the same case that slowly loosened up over time. Fortunately, though, these wallboards are easy to remove. Tom offered to call Palm Harbor since the house is under warranty, but we agreed that if we deal with it, it’ll get done right. I don’t want some illiterate Mexican out here that doesn’t even know its own language let alone English, making things worse and wasting our time.

Again, I am so sick of this leak curse and I am so sick of us always having to deal with other people’s incompetence!!! Why are so many people so damn stupid???

THURSDAY, AUGUST 8, 2002 I keep forgetting to mention that the PR cock Paula’s dealing with is so damn jealous and paranoid that he asked Paula if she was getting it on with Tom. I was like, yeah, right! All the way across the country she’s getting it on with my asexual husband! Hasn’t she told him that Tom’s white, not her cup of tea anyway?

She and I were talking about whether or not God favors man over a woman. Well, it’s rather obvious that he does. Look what we women go through with periods and what some go through carrying/delivering kids, not to mention the abuse most of us take from men. They say this has to do with Eve disobeying him. But what’s that got to do with us women now centuries later? See, if this story’s true, it goes to prove that God really would make a person pay for another’s sins, like Tom and I.

Tom fixed the squeak in my computer by tightening up screws, so now there’ll be a new problem any sec.

I love this Webshots site. I still have their software so I can download and export pictures, but I use a different wallpaper program. They have two new pictures a day. I wish it were more like 20 or 30, but at least they’re getting new ones regularly. All the other wallpaper sites hardly ever update their pictures.

I decided that so I could keep things in better order, I’d divide Mary’s stuff into 3 files. One for her clips from her preteen years, one for her teen years, and one for her adult years.

It’s amazing how we lived together in a tiny room for 9 days, barely knowing a thing about each other. Now, though, we haven’t seen each other in over a year yet we know each other rather well.

Here’s what I’ve learned about her through her book and letters: She’s a very sweet, compassionate person, yet she’s naïve and too trusting. Not so shocking, though, seeing that she’s only 24. I don’t think she’s attracted to abusive men in the way Paula and Tammy are, but she’s definitely cursed. Her parents were even worse than mine were, in a sense, and as you know, mine were quite terrible. Her father became your typical deadbeat dad and her mother abused her and her only sibling, Adam, 4 years older, verbally, physically and emotionally. The two were eventually sent away to boarding schools that I’m sure weren’t much better than Valleyhead. Then Mary’s had one abusive relationship after another with her mental and intellectual growth stunted by motherhood at just 15 years of age.

I can see where Mary’s being too nice, so to speak, as well as too trusting has gotten her in trouble. An example of that is that she handed her baby to an old lady to hold while she folded up the stroller to put in a waiting taxicab. Well, anyone with sense knows and would agree that even if it’s a frail, seemingly harmless old lady, you do not give your baby to a stranger.

Mary seems to be a very honest, non-contradicting person who keeps her word, yet she obviously has a poor sense of judgment at times. How she could have left her daughter home while she was at work to be killed by a man who had proven time and time again to be abusive towards her and her daughter, is totally beyond me. Even more beyond me is how she could’ve run off with him from Florida to Seattle after he killed her. She had already run with him from Arizona to Florida after he abused her son James, who was adopted, along with another son of hers named Andrew.

Other than leaving her daughter in the hands of a monster, Mary seems to have been very in tune with her daughter’s needs and a very loving mother. She also seems rather intelligent for her age, despite her hardships and becoming a mom so young.

Mary and Adam bonded in their 20s after all they’d been through. Except for their aunt Carolyn, it seems the whole family was crazy. Her firstborn, Murphy, lives with her aunt in Arizona. Mary has a boyfriend, Todd, whom she has told me is the opposite of her past boyfriends and her ex-husband Justin. He is said to be a very caring, supportive young man.

To my knowledge, Mary has never been sexually abused. At least not in the form of rape or molestation.

I will say that Mary has up and removed herself and her daughter Gretchen from abusive men a few times, but sadly, she’d always go back till one day it was too late.

She’s both a good and a not-so-good writer. She’s certainly better than I was at her age with her vocabulary and her descriptions, but she’s a little too descriptive. She spends an awful lot of time telling one quick event with lots of detail.

I restructure or reword sentences if I think they’ll sound better. I also correct any grammatical mistakes. Her punctuation is the worst. She never uses it. Occasionally she uses question marks, but all she uses for periods are commas. She never uses caps or paragraphs and she never uses quotes when people are speaking, either.

She also uses names too often and breaks people’s conversations up too much with descriptive stuff. Other than that, she’s doing alright and will improve with time.

She’s writing the story first-person, saying that she felt it was too impersonal to use an anonymous narrator. Yeah, I agree. I mean, I think first-person is especially better when it’s a true story cuz it’s more like a journal, only you’re telling the story after the fact rather than as it unfolds.

Unless she’s making it up to make the book sound better, I’m amazed at how detailed her memory is pertaining to events from her preteen years.

Later…

Tom brought home a manila envelope with a letter sheet, plus 49 pages of drafts. Guess I’ll go get working on that now.

Another few hours and my life belongs to me for a good 72 hours. It’s all mine! Mine and Tom’s.

Later…

Scot came at 1:10, and as usual, he was in and out like a flash like I wish I could be when I see him on his turf. I spotted his SUV, which fortunately, comes from a direction I can see from my office window without having to be right up to it as I would if he came the way he leaves. I ran out front before he could knock and wake up Tom, who’d gone to bed an hour before.

I feel a lot more relaxed after he leaves from a home visit, cuz then I know I can count on him not bugging me here at least for a while. So we went 6 weeks and 3 days between visits time around. Maybe next time it’ll be 6 weeks and 6 days! He skipped June, but I doubt he’ll skip September cuz he came so early in the month. It’s only the 8th, but when he came in May it was the 24th. He’d have to not come by for at least 7½ weeks in order to skip September. If his visits really ever do start slowing down to where there are usually 8 or more weeks between visits, it probably won’t be till after I get down to one year left of this shit. I don’t know, though. Arizona is such a serious state. He may play this up right on to the end. He’s gonna play up the seeing him twice a month part of it, but I know that for the most part, he’s just a PO. He doesn’t have much control, power or authority when it comes to the laws. He’s just doing what he’s told to do whether he wants to or not and regardless of whether or not he thinks it’s necessary. As Tom says, it’s a matter of his having a quota he has to meet, as well as if there’s someone new in the area on probation, making it convenient to stop here. I don’t see how there can be that many people in the area, though, whether or not they’re on probation. Remember, this isn’t the city!

He’s a bit rude, though, and not very bright when I think about it. I know Tom’s a heavy sleeper who can easily fall back asleep and that he isn’t leaving tonight till midnight, but he knew I was standing out there to keep him from waking up. Yet as soon as we stepped inside his walkie-talkie squawked really loud before he turned it down. Couldn’t he have turned it down before he got inside?

When I went out front to pick up a couple of aluminum cans the slobs of Maricopa let blow in, I noticed a car parked in front of the shack that I couldn’t see from the house. I’ve seen them move stuff in and out of the shacks a couple of times, but this was just sitting there. To my knowledge, all they use the shacks for is storage, so maybe they’re storing this old car there, too. I mean, why not? They have an old ugly trailer on the other corner. The front of their property is definitely neater and nicer looking than the back. I want to landscape the side they’re on, but not as much as I want to in back and in front. Especially when there’s a house in front.

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 7, 2002 This is the driest, sunniest and hottest day we’ve had in a while. There’s been very little prairie dog activity cuz of the intense heat. They won’t come out till late afternoon.

I stuck a little fanlike thing in the ground. Last Christmas we got this gold aluminum candleholder with a fan with angels attached to it that strike these little bells when the heat of the flames rotates the candles. I took the angels and bells off and stuck the fan part out to watch it move in the wind. It looks pretty with the light reflecting off of it.

Got a 9-page draft from Mary with a quick note. Nothing’s going on. I’m now all caught up on her stuff and she’s now all caught up on my jailhouse story. Well, she will be as soon as she gets the mail I’ve got ready to go out to her.

Miss Didn’t You Get My Mail? should be getting my package in about a week if all goes well.

I had a memory from one of the summers we spent at the beach. I couldn’t have been more than 10. Tammy and I were at a nearby rental sitting out in the living room while this woman was in one of the bedrooms screaming at this little boy who I swear she was beating the shit out of. Her name was Gail and his name was Benjamin, I think. Anyway, this was back in a time and at a place where no one dared get involved. You simply kept your mouth shut and hoped for the best.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 6, 2002 It was exactly 6 weeks ago as of yesterday that Scot was last here. This is the first time since January that he’s gone over 6 weeks, even if it’s just a day over it so far, in between visits.

Yesterday I told Tom not to put my mail on the island if he comes home when I’m to be getting up between prime freeloader time. That way, jail mail wouldn’t be sitting right there if I happen to be just waking up when he knocks, and am coming out of the bedroom for the first time that day.

Then I thought about it and said to myself, fuck that shit! The freeloaders have controlled where I lived, what I wore, what I ate, and what some of our money was spent on, so now I’m supposed to let them control where my mail is placed? I don’t think so!

In other news, I finally got to take pictures of a rattlesnake! Yeah, I was in my office yesterday when I spotted it coming toward the house. Tom got to see it, too. Unlike the others who would run at the sight of me or the sound of doors closing, this one was pretty brave. I snapped a picture of it moving towards me alongside the house, and then, due to how dangerous these snakes can be, we ran into the house as it settled underneath the front stairs. Tom then opened one of the living room windows and popped the screen out so I could shoot pictures from there, but the only good one I got from there was of its head sticking out. I sent the two good shots I got in all to both Marys, one being by email, the other by regular mail, of course.

It was really weird how the prairie dogs came within a few feet of where it sat and neither one acted like they knew the other was even there. Perhaps that’s because the snake had just eaten. It sure was a fat one.

Mary sent me two more envelopes with quick letters and drafts. I can’t believe how much this girl is writing! She told me to tell her if she’s overwhelming me, but right now I’ve got the time. The only thing being neglected is the fine-tuning of my journals, but that’s okay. There’s no hurry or deadline on that one. I’m sure she’ll have her dry spurts again as soon as she’s got something going on. Right now there’s nothing going on, as she says. I take it she’s getting along with Hope cuz she hasn’t said anything.

Oh, Teddy Bear, how I wish you’d return to Estrella! If I stand the slightest chance, even if it’s one in a million, in getting an answer to why she ditched me, Mary’s my only hope. If she could just get back there before Mary leaves! I know this will never happen, though.

I still think of her every day and at this rate, I think I always will. I imagine scenes with her, like how it might’ve been both in and out of bed if we had been meant to be. I wonder things about her, like what is her name, etc.?

It isn’t doing it right now, but my hard drive (at least I think it’s the hard drive, though it could be a fan) has been making this God-awful screech that Tom says he can’t hear. When I asked how the hell he couldn’t hear it, he said it was cuz of the loud machines he worked around for so many years. It’s a wonder I’m not deaf myself after all the years of blaring music, but if it hasn’t hurt my hearing yet, it probably never will. Not as long as God wants me to hear things I don’t want to hear, though it’s been the quietest it’s ever been since we moved here. Since I’ve had the privilege of living here, I should say. Anyway, he’s going to take care of it later when he gets up. I swear, there’s always something. If it isn’t one thing, it’s another.

In order to keep my bangs, now to the tip of my nose, out of my face, I twist them, making dreadlocks, and clip them back with butterfly clips while my hair’s wet. Then it dries up and stays that way even without clips.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 4, 2002 Weekends go too fast when you don’t have freeloaders just a few feet away from you. I wanted to sleep later than 9 PM so I could be up from 10 AM - 2:30 PM, prime freeloader time, but maybe I will be anyway. That’s what makes the house calls rather stressful. I just don’t know when to expect them. If someone told me he’d be stopping by Wednesday or Thursday, then I could relax and breathe a bit easier, knowing for sure I’d be up during those hours those days. See? God knows neighbors aren’t a potential sleep disruption anymore, so what does he do now that I’ve moved away from them? He brings the potential sleep disruption out here to me. If it isn’t in one form, it’s another. And if I’m ever off probation, the sonic booms will start up again. Or maybe someone will set up house in front and play the drums or an electric guitar with the doors and windows open all the time. There’s always got to be something threatening my sleep.

I’m not bothering with the hassles of encrypting journals anymore. Know why? Cuz I just don’t give a fuck anymore. If you don’t like something I may have to say about something or someone, then don’t read my journals. And don’t complain about it if you do. That’s all I’ve got to say on the matter.

Paula finally told me that it wasn’t that her license was suspended, but that she never even had a license to begin with. When I asked her why she said she just never got around to getting it.

Whenever she mentions coming out here I discourage her. She simply has no idea just how controlling a state Arizona is. The things they’re slapping her on the wrist for there would land her in prison out here. Prison, that is, not jail. Sicko Nancy K got a few years in prison for pig-slugging. Her Section 8 wouldn’t save her out here. They wouldn’t give a shit. Especially with her being white.

I figured out the shower leak. It’s not coming from inside the wall and he doesn’t have to bother tearing up the wall. It’s definitely coming from the base somewhere. When the water’s beating straight down into the shower stall, it doesn’t leak at all. But as soon as I aim it towards the doors, a leak appears at the front right corner. So the water’s seeping under the tracks and down out through that corner somehow.

Getting receipts to protect ourselves is a good thing, but as I asked Tom, what about Scot? Shouldn’t we be getting statements from him saying I haven’t missed any reports and that all my drug tests have been clean? If he woke up one day and decided to hate me, he could rip up the form I fill out upon reporting and say I skipped. And there’d be nothing I could do to prove him a liar, either.

Tom suggested we don’t do that cuz that’s saying we don’t trust him which could cause problems when I report.

Oh, yeah, that’s right. I forgot about that. Arizonans and their fragile little feelings. Why is everyone so damn caught up in what others may think of them? You wouldn’t think he’d give a rat’s ass what I thought about him or if I trusted him. How could it affect his life one way or another? I mean, why should Scot B give a damn whether or not Jodi S trusts him?

But Scot B does care. He cares deeply. Maybe he wouldn’t if he were in New England, but this isn’t New England. This is the southwest and my opinion of him matters greatly. It might not matter to him if I thought the world of him, but it sure as shit would matter if I thought anything negative concerning him. Sensitives are usually paranoid, too. He’s the type that would take most anything personally, so that means he’d also be the type to get the wrong idea about people easily. Let’s hope not in my case, cuz the only one that would end up suffering from any misunderstandings he may have is me, of course.

I still say I just might surprise myself someday and fight back against anyone that ever fucks me over the way I’ve been fucked over, and I just might get away with it, too. Especially since they’d deserve whatever I gave him. God can’t protect my perpetrators forever, can he? Would he?

Sure he could and sure he would and I should come back to earth, I know. I’m not fighting back next time. Why? Cuz every time I’ve ever tried to fight back against someone wronging me, it’s only made things worse. I’m not going to jail again, so no, I won’t fight back. I’ll just hope that whatever it is that’s being done to me isn’t too bad and that it ends soon enough. No, it’s not okay for Jodi S to fight back. It’s only ok for her to get screwed over and for her perpetrators to get away with it. Even so, I do not intend to be this bitch’s victim all my life! Someday my life will not revolve around her like it does most of the time now and has been since one very ill-fated day in March of ’96.

On the brighter side, I’m stunned to have learned that I can eat all I want, yet remain at the 124 pounds my body’s been obsessed with weighing since I quit smoking. All this time I thought that going over 1600 calories a day would cause me to continually gain weight till I maxed out at – 150 pounds, 200 pounds – who knows how much? Yet 124, the weight my body’s been most comfortable at for the last 5 years, is my max. I’ve been having 2000-2500 calories day after day after day and my weight never changes. I know a part of it is the exercise. Like I said before, you can’t usually lose weight through exercise, but you can maintain your weight with it. However, if I were suddenly having this many calories at 115 pounds, I would gain weight till I settled back in at the 124 pounds my body’s used to weighing. I could probably lose weight on as low as 1400 calories a day, but I’m not going to bother cuz I know how hard it’d be to keep the weight down. Just a few days of eating would put me back up to where I am. I’d have to keep my calories cut all the time, and yes, just one day a week off would hurt me. It’d undo all, if not most, of my hard work. So, rather than let myself go hungry, I think I can live with being 24 pounds overweight, or at least 14, in most people’s opinions. Especially when you consider the fact that most adults are 40-50 pounds overweight.

I know the working out has caused me to be smaller than I’d normally be at this weight.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 2, 2002 This morning was no fun. No, it was rather stressful. The original plan was to sleep from around 6 AM - 6 PM, then go see Scot, but come 7:00, I was still awake. Even after taking a Benadryl. That was when Tom got in with the groceries and we decided to get Scot out of the way before we both crashed and arrived at his place at 8:00.

I know it’s only words, but I am so sick and tired of hearing the same old shit from Scot. Every single time I see him he just has to comment on how much time I have left, and I’m thinking, dude, I don’t need any reminders!

Having a little over a year to go is better than 3 years, but the 15 months I have left is depressing enough to have to be reminded of and think about.

Then he goes and says, “I can’t even think of suggesting you petition for early release from probation because you have a victim in your case,” and I want to strangle him for referring to that sick black bitch as a victim! And why did he even have to bring this up in the first place when we already discussed and agreed a few months ago that I wasn’t going to bother to try to fight a losing battle by petitioning? Can’t I ever go in there and just get a “Hi, how you doing? Any changes? Ok, then, I’ll see you back here in two weeks.” After all, this is all I get when he comes to the house, so why not on his turf? I’m beginning to wonder if he gets off on the time reminders and by referring to “victims” who aren’t even victims. He’s got to know it bothers me. I mean, I’ve told him this, but no, he’s gotta go and have his say anyway.

And of course Tom just has to stick up for him, in a sense, by playing it down, saying he’s only trying to encourage me and I’m like, encourage me? How is this encouraging? It’s depressing to be reminded of how much longer I have to play this game and it’s infuriating to hear the black bitch called a victim.

I thought I was going to be tested today so I went with a full bladder. “I’ll speed up,” Tom said on the way back and I was like, “No! This is Arizona, you fool. I’d rather wet my pants than have you do 20 years for speeding. Wait till we hit the dirt roads.”

Oh, what those freeloaders do to me! The numerous ways they control me and my life from such a distance and the stress they put me through are un-fucking-believable. It really is.

On the way back, the neighbor waved to us. The grandmother. I only saw her for a second and wouldn’t have known who it was if Tom hadn’t said so. I wonder if she recognized Tom or if she just waved anyway like most people out here do.

I don’t know what’s worse – the home visits or going to him. The home visits are quicker, but I can’t plan my schedule around them like I can with the outside visits.

And another thing is that once again, there’s just one more thing we gotta do for the freeloaders. Always one more thing. Now he’s suggesting we go to the clerk’s office and get a receipt of what we’ve paid and what we still have to pay so they don’t try to say we owe more money than we do at the end. I agree that we should do whatever we can to protect ourselves, but I still worry about the end. If this bitch gets mugged and she doesn’t know who really did it, I’m afraid I’m gonna get blamed. I worry they’re going to try to either prolong the probation or charge me with something new. I still wouldn’t count on never hearing about the classes again, either. This system just cannot be trusted. It simply can’t be trusted. Tom can go and do this after work sometime by himself, then I wonder – what’s next? What else do we gotta do for these freeloaders?

Anyway, I told Tom to take all the freeloader receipts to the clerk. That way, if they try to pull a last-minute, half-assed attempt at trying to sucker more money out of us and say we owe a payment or two that we don’t, he can show them they’re full of shit. And I don’t think a lot of the “mistakes” are really mistakes like Scot says. I think that just like any other business in the world, they want to make an extra buck, and if they have to do some of it illegally or in a dishonest way – why not? I’m sure there are some people who could be easily suckered into believing they owe more money than they really do.

I’m so fucking sick of this world! And I’m even sicker of this ‘Minorities Rule’ trip we’re on. That is any minority that excludes Jews and gays, of course. So much so that if I could be a black at the snap of my fingers I would. Not only would it hide the zits and varicose veins better, but then I could just cry racism every time someone pissed me off and use the courts to fuck them over, but then again, I don’t know if I could be that vindictive and immature. I think I’d rather ignore them. I’m dead serious about this too, and I have to wonder, is there any place on earth where the laws aren’t so damn extreme? Here, the laws are so old-fashioned what with the way they give such outrageous sentences for the dumbest things, while at the same time, the laws favor and protect certain groups of people. Next thing we know, T-shirts saying things like, “If I’m black, kiss my ass” are going to be everywhere.

Tom was right when he said we have more than what’s been taken from us, but on mornings like today, it doesn’t always feel like that’s the case.

Well, the freeloaders may own some of our income, some of our time, some of our lives, but one thing’s for damn sure and that’s that they don’t have our weekends! Weekends belong to us! We don’t have to do shit for the freeloaders on weekends.

In this day and age, I don’t want to screw anyone over, don’t want to seek revenge, don’t want to control anyone – I just want others to stop controlling me! I expect others to treat me as I treat them, so if I’m going to leave them alone and ignore them, I want the same treatment in return.

Tom suggested I basically have an attitude saying, “I’m looking forward to moving on and putting this behind me,” when it comes to Scot.

I already tried that before with him and others, yet look where I am today. Still unable to get on with my life and put these freeloaders in the past where they belong. Every time I think we’ve shaken ourselves free of them, they’re there again.

See, I know probation’s more about money and control than anything else, though it’s supposed to be to see if you’re going to re-offend. For example, say I was truly guilty of “stalking” this bitch; do they really need a whole 2½ years to see if I’m gonna do it again? And why put Mary on probation when she’s released? Do they really need to see if she’ll once again neglect an already-dead baby?

Despite how fucked up people are and how mistrusting of others I am, I’m glad I didn’t walk away from Mary. I don’t know if we’ll be in each other’s lives forever, but for now, she’s a good friend and pen pal. She doesn’t just ramble on and on about her problems with guys or whatever. She also wants to know what’s going on with me. Our friendship is two-sided. I sometimes wish we were closer in age, but that’s ok. I was once 24 and someday Mary’s going to be 36.

In other news, it rained this evening harder than it has in a year, sending a 2” wide puddle by the bottom of the front door that’s not even 3 years old. It didn’t last long, though.

I wish I still had my Charlie’s Angels dolls, but not to add to my collection. I don’t think they even looked like them. However, they’d be worth a fortune by now.

Tom and I were talking about moving every 5 years to different places for variety’s sake. 5 years really is a long time to stay put when you think about it. We were at the Phoenix house for 6 years and it really did feel like quite a while, despite the shitty living conditions. Especially after I’ve had 4 apartments in Massachusetts, 1 in Connecticut, and 4 out here.

He suggested the possibility of Seattle or someplace where it’s cooler and it rains all the time. Well, rain, cold and snow would keep people in their houses more often, but with a leak curse on us, I don’t know if it’d be wise to go where it rains a lot. For every pro I can think of when it comes to moving to a particular place, I can come up with a con, too. Moving’s a bitch and I don’t know if Tom could necessarily find work just anywhere, but it is a fun idea. The more I think about it, the more I like it. Maybe we’ll have less trouble if we’re not in one place longer than 5 years, though it didn’t take 5 years of living in the Phoenix house for the shit to hit the fan.

But just where would we go? Certainly not to a city. In order to go where there are fewer off-brands, we’d have to head more toward the Midwest where it’s colder. In order to go to a more comfortable climate that’s stable year-round, we’d have to go where there were too many people (of all kinds.) Warmer climates have bigger bugs, yet colder places tend to have mostly old houses. We wouldn’t need bottled water in New England, but the weather there sucks. So whether or not we go to a cold climate, a rainy one, or a warm one, they’ll all have their pros and cons. One thing’s for sure, though, and that’s that if we ever did move to New England or a similar climate, I’ll never have to be alone and I’ll never have to play bus!

Let’s see, we’re overrun with Mexicans here, Cubans in Florida, and Puerto Ricans in the northeast. There are fewer blacks in Arizona than in Massachusetts, but still too many for comfort.

In New England, the laws are more reasonable, they don’t bash Jews and gays as much, and everyone doesn’t want to be on stage like they do here. They’re not as sensitive to criticism. On the other hand, with the exception of Steve, most of the finest people I’ve met have been out here, even if some of them were only in my life for a brief time.

So, no matter where we go there’s always gonna be problems as well as good things about the place. Now it’s just a question of, well, do we want to move just to be moving for the fun of it till and if we ever do settle on a boat?

THURSDAY, AUGUST 1, 2002 It ended up costing $30 to ship Paula’s package. Yeah, that’s all I’m doing for her for quite a while. I’ll do emails and monthly letters, but that’s about it. She should get the package in two weeks. I mean, it’s nice to know I’m doing this for someone who hasn’t got shit and probably never will, but what does she do for me in return? Not much. She bitches about the losers in her life, then lies about sending me mail. I’m not saying she should send packages herself, but a letter every now and then would be nice and more of a two-sided phone conversation would be nice, too.

Got 3 more letters from Mary, but since the envelopes weren’t numbered this time around, I don’t know if I’ll be typing the drafts that came in proper order. That’s okay, though, cuz I figure order’s not all that important right now. Right now we’re just gonna get the thing typed up. Then, once she feels she has enough, someone else can organize it. It’ll be a while, though, like I said, since we’re talking about 80-some-odd pages. As soon as I have enough to fill an envelope, I’ll get it off to her with another pic sheet. This time around, I just sent a letter, a pic sheet, and more parts of my book. She now has everything up to March.

I saw a documentary on prisons in India. Lately, they believe in “loving” their inmates, so to speak, as a way of rehabilitating them. Meaning, the guards hug them when they break down in tears. If only they had such a policy at Estrella when I was there! I’d have made damn sure I had something to weep about every time Palma and the bear worked! I told Mary about this, who no doubt got a kick out of it.

Mary says she’s really enjoying writing her book and is over a virus she had. She can’t wait to dye her hair fuchsia, which is now down to her waist. She’s growing her bangs out too, she says, which are now past her chin. Mine is still only just past my nose.

As I told her, I bitch about how much God’s cursed me, but trust me, he has blessed me as well. I’ll admit to that. He cursed me with the people I had for parents, yet he blessed me with the person who’s my husband. He cursed me with Nancy and blessed me with her! I don’t know which was worse, Nancy or Melinda. Meanwhile, she and Rosa were definitely the best, with Misha and Marilyn as their runners-up. I would’ve liked being cellies with Nancy I, too. Regardless of what she may or may not have done, she was quiet and a good listener.

Anyway, I really admire her attitude.

Hope was charged with 4 F2s and 4 F4s. She was found guilty of 8 counts of child abuse, but it was a hung jury as to the attempted murder charge.

Oh, so we have a near-baby killer here, huh? How can she cell with someone like that – ugh! And of course, no mention of it in the papers, she says. Yeah, I believe it. I couldn’t find anything online either. Like I said, those of us who are white and who have supposedly gone and picked on those poor, poor freeloaders for no apparent reason are much more entertaining to read about. If we all were the same color or an innocent child was involved – well – that’d be a different story, wouldn’t it?

I couldn’t find anything new regarding Idiot, either, whom she says had a fugitive hearing. She said she doesn’t know what that is, but my guess is it’s about his running from his AZ charges from the sound of it.

She says Chambers became a real cop.

So, she decided to take her badge to the streets, huh?

Vasquez left for Towers jail, but Jones, LaBorde (LaVoice), and Hudgens are still there.

Tom and I were talking about her doing things to hopefully please the judge. When he asked why I suggested you not put too much hope in the judge, I told him, “You should know why. Cuz judges just don’t give a shit, more often than not. Remember, most of them are high on power and control. They’re just gonna look at the said crime, whether it’s real or imagined, and judge them by that. They don’t give a shit about rough backgrounds or current efforts the person is making. After all, didn’t we watch a perfect stranger sit in judgment of me and decide my fate for the next 3 years before he even laid eyes on me?”

But we both agree, though, that she should do whatever works for her and whatever she feels is best. But I would do it for her. It’s like with losing weight. One has to lose weight cuz they themselves truly want to. Not for some lover, their parents, or friends. Who knows? In the end, she just may get one of those rare judges with a touch of compassion!

[sekhisadventures]

Brightflame, Dim Memories

Valdrakken

Grimo scowled, sucking down a cigar as he walked through the city with two other members of Savage United. “So now she’s back AND she’s got a godsdamn dragon on her side?! Fuckin' fel that damn worgen keeps gettin' worse…” he snarled, flicking away the butt of the cigar as he finished and exhaling a cloud of foul smelling smoke that made the nose of one of his companions wrinkle up.

Sekhi was with him, the shamaness’ eyes watering at the awful stench of the cigar, but she didn’t want to say anything. Grimo’s song sounded exceptionally angry and scared right now, and she was afraid of setting the goblin off.

Their other companion had no issues with this, but then Grimo only came up to her knees. “Yeah, Mola’raum said that she almost got them from above when they found a village of gnolls that had been wiped out, likely by her. Jaie was with them and she and Mola are pretty sure that the wounds were inflicted by an axe… so we both know who that means.” replied Nitika, the goblin nodding as they thought of Az'arad and his penchant for such weapons. Dissonantia rarely did the dirty work herself, she was a demon summoner first and foremost which meant the actual killing was likely her minions and she harvested the souls as they finished them off.

“Great, well if nothin’ else that means we got a chance to finish what I’m workin’ on. If you guys see a demon, get somethin’ off ‘em. A tooth, a claw, a horn, ANYTHING. Sooner we got that, sooner I can finish it, miniaturize it, and make it portable. Then we got ‘em.” he nodded as the trio wandered past a stage set up in the city center.

“MY FELLOW DRAGONS!” came an excited sounding voice from the stage. A female goblin was standing on it wearing a shiny gold double-breasted suit over her small frame, along with a big pair of sunglasses decorated in rhinestones. She had a string of pearls around her neck and her fingers had enough gem-studded rings to qualify as fist weapons. “Today is your lucky day! My name is the Very Reverend Jezzi Fizcrank and I’m here to tell you the good news about Gold! That’s right, not gods, GOLD! Gold is the source of all happiness in Azeroth, don’t let anyone tell ya otherwise and, for a small small donation to my mission, I can show you all the secret path to everlasting happiness with GOLD! Step right up here and don’t be shy!” she called out as behind her a small choir of goblins sang a rather upbeat song about giving up your worldly possessions to earn more worldly possessions.

“Ugh… freakin’ Fizzcrank is here too… just what I fuckin’ wanted to see…” growled Grimo as they passed, very pointedly looking away from the stage as a few curious Dracthyr walked closer, one of them mentioning that he did like the idea of a nice hoard.

Sekhi looked at him curiously, “Um, ya know her?” asked the Vulpera, her ears flicking. The song was very catchy, but she could tell that like the woman’s suit while it held the appearance of gold it was very much not what it seemed.

“Yeah, little shit is one of the biggest con artists in all of Bilgewater Harbor. She ‘n her freakin’ cult lure in suckers year round ‘n bilk ‘em outta everything they got with th’ promise that donatin’ to her is gonna make ‘em rich.”

Nitika rolled her eyes at his words. She was a ‘priestess’ of sorts herself and Jezzi’s rather energetic sermon did annoy her a bit, but she wasn’t gullible enough to fall for it. “You’re just jealous she has more money than you Grimo.” she smirked down at him.

Grimo snarled and threw up his hands, “SHE’S SELLIN’ SNAKE OIL WITH NO SNAKES OR OIL! HOW TH' FUCK DOES SHE PULL THAT OFF?!” he barked, then fished out a fresh cigar and bit the tip off it, spitting it into the distance as he lit it while letting out a string of curses under his breath.

Sekhi giggled, a small chittering sound in her case, then she slowed as the other two kept going through the city. The vulpera’s ears perked, picking up faint traces of a person’s song reaching her. “Hm?” she yipped softly, looking over her shoulder, then padding off through the city as she followed the sounds.

Her feet carried her through the craftsman’s quarter, around past the bridge to the nursery set up for dragon whelps, and up some stairs until she found it’s source seated on a bench in the Obisidan Enclave. “Oh! Its ya again!” she said cheerfully as the bench’s occupant looked up at her.

Laura Brightflame was seated there, the dracthyr currently in her humanoid guise with her staff resting across her lap. “Oh hello, Sekhi right?” she asked. She had been lost in thought and hadn’t even noticed the vulpera at first.

“Yup!” she yipped cheerfully, “Ya okay? Your song sounded really sad… I could hear it all th' way up from infront of th' big tower…” she asked, cocking her head at the evoker.

“I… do not know…” she sighed, shaking her head, “The others are coping well enough, mostly… but… I cannot remember anything of what happened to us. What we were before we were sealed away. Just fragments and flashes. Nothing more.” she frowned. “I feel… I feel like I forgot something important, very very important… but I cannot recall what.”

Sekhi nodded, sitting on the bench next to her as her feet dangled off the edge. “Hmm… yeah I heard some of th' Dracthyr talkin’ bout that back in Orgrimmar. Guess ya guys were sleepin’ for a really really really long time huh?” she asked.

“… twenty thousand years, yes.” replied Laura. Her mind still reeled at all that had happened during their imprisonment. The fall of the Burning Legion, the defeat of the Old Gods, the arrival of the Orcish Horde… even the Sundering itself! They were imprisoned ten thousand years before the War of the Ancients ever happened!

Sekhi nodded, “That’s a yippin’ long nap, yup…” she replied, “You really can’t remember anything at all?” she asked.

Laura sighed, taking a deep breath, and closed her eyes. “There was… a battle, against a terrible foe. We were an army, under the command of Neltharion. Then… something terrible happened. Something broke, and we broke with it…” she rubbed at her temples, trying to pull on the small fragments of memory she had. “I… remember terror… the sound of thunder… my wingmates scattering in fear… flashes of… lightning… then… Neltharion did something… and…” she sighed, her shoulders sagging. “Nothing. The rest is just… it is like trying to remember a dream.”

 Sekhi’s ears drooped, the vulpera hearing the dracthyr’s song in her mind. A morose lament of loss and despair. “Um… yeah, wow…” she thought on that, then the flames in a nearby brazier caught in the wind and she heard a faint voice in her ears, a guitar mixed with a flute, and her ears caught the voice of the elements.

“I… might be able to help, but I’ll need to get some stuffs. Can ya, um, can ya meet me…” she looked around, “Um… over there, th' cliffside near that waterfall there, in about a day or so?” she asked.

Laura turned to face her, “Help? How?” she asked, looking confused.

“Well, Imma shaman… not like those Primalist jerks, but a proper shaman! I know some stuffs 'bout magic ‘n spirits ‘n stuffs!” she nodded with a little foxy grin, her tail swishing. “I gotta get some help settin’ up… but I think I can do somethin’!”

The next evening…

Laura flew over the cliffside in her dracthyr form, her wings spread out behind her. The vulpera seemed so certain she could help, but could she really? She was desperate though, she needed help from someone, and Sekhi was willing.

When she landed there were three others there besides Sekhi. A human man stood nearby, wearing elegant robes in a pandaren design and taking notes in a book he had with him using a sharpened charcoal stick. Also there was an orcish woman, but one of the red-skinned variety. She thinks that she heard them called ‘mag’har’ or something, though she didn’t know what the word meant.

Lastly, that tauren woman she’d seen on the boat to the Isles.

In the middle of them all was a large iron brazier with the vulpera fussing over the contents. “Okay… soooo… I swapped out th' dreamfoil from last time with some bubble poppy… ‘n th' branches are from local trees instead'a Mount Hyjal. Th' sand is some I scooped up from th' beach up north. But yeah, should do it… at least I think that’s what th' elements said would work…” she chittered as the mage’s charcoal scratched it’s way along the parchment.

“Interesting interesting…” he muttered. “I swear I’ve learned more about shamanistic rituals from you than most anyone else I’ve known.” he chuckled to her, looking up as Laura landed and resumed her visage form. “Ah, this must be the one you mentioned.” he said, tucking the charcoal and book away in his pouch and walking over. “Nelen Fullmoon of Gilneas, a pleasure.” he nodded to her. “I’m here to observe Sekhi’s ritual on behalf of the Kirin Tor. We’re always eager to see new forms of magic in use.”

Laura nodded to him, “You may call me Laura Brightflame.” she replied, looking somewhat nervous at the assembled group.

“Yeah I know you. You saved my ass when those Primalists came after the camp.” grinned the orc. “I owe ya. Name’s Galdia Grimaxe, you need someone to watch your back just yell.”

Laura nodded, letting out a nervous chuckle. She remembered Galdia from the boat ride over too… and how much damage she’d caused when the alcohol ran out.

“Alright!” yipped Sekhi, “I think we’re ready… so… Laura. Ya need to sit next to th' thingy…” she gestured to the brazier, “'n I’ll light it ‘n start playing my flute. Ya breathe a bit of th' smoke from it, then just try to think back… 'n if it works you should… well… remember somethin’… I hope.” she nodded. It was a variant of what she’d tried in the Shadowlands, but she also remembered how that one had gone awry as well.

Laura nodded, seating herself next to the brazier as the others scooted away. Nitika stood nearby, ready just in case. She had elected to come with Galdia for one very specific reason: if the ritual went badly wrong they would have an angry or panicked Dracthyr on their hands and in terms of sheer physical prowess they were the strongest of their allies. They would try not to hurt her, but their strength may be needed to restrain her.

“Okay!” yipped Sekhi, sitting down opposite Laura on the far side of the brazier. “Just… take a breath, listen, 'n let your thoughts do their thing.” she nodded, clicking her claws together as a spark flew from them to the mix in the bowl, which caught and soon began to smolder.

Sekhi put her flute to her muzzle, then began to play a soft gentle tune as she closed her eyes. After a moment she opened one, then glanced meaningfully between Laura and the bowl.

The dracthyr hesitated, then nodded and leaned in, taking a breath and coughing just a bit from the smoke.

For a long moment, nothing happened at all… then slowly Laura began to feel strangely detatched, as if the world around her was fading away.

“What… is happening…” she muttered, “I feel…” she began, her voice trailing off as her eyes drifted shut.

She thought she heard someone calling her name, her true name, over and over…

Then her eyes flew open, but she was in her true form once more, and all around her was chaos.

“LAURELGOSA! THE RELIC IS DESTROYED! WE HAVE TO GO, NOW!” cried another dracthyr, shaking her frantically. They had crimson scales and were wearing hooded robes.

There were dracthyr everywhere, some wounded, others dead, most of them in states of panic, and above them the sky exploded with lightning.

“DEATH TO THE SLAVES OF THE TITANS! DEATH TO THE DEFILERS OF AZEROTH!” roared a furious voice above them as Laurelgosa’s head snapped upwards.

Above them was a massive protodrake with violet scales, it’s body crackling with electricity as it unleashed a blast of elemental fury at the ground before it. A bolt of lightning so huge it was more akin to a laser cannon than a simple storm strike.

“Raszageth…” she whispered, her eyes wide. That’s right, they were fighting the Incarnates when it all went wrong.

“Laurelgosa! Focus!” shouted the other dracthyr. “Raszageth destroyed the Oathbinder! We must gather the others and escape while we can!”

“Oathbinder? I… I don't…” she stammered out, her eyes wide.

“Damn it all! You're still in shock from the control breaking! I will explain all later, but now we must…” the dracthyr snarled, then suddenly looked up as the sound of thunder rolled, “She's coming back! Laurelgosa! LOOK OUT!” they shouted, spreading their wings and flapping as hard as they could, shoving her away from them.

Laurelgosa let out a loud cry, flying backwards as the dracthyr flew away the other direction… and then came the lightning. She felt her chest catch as she saw a beam of energy slam down into the ground inches from where the crimson dracthyr was, hearing a scream of agony.

She ran forward as the beam dissipated, Raszageth flying into the air and cackling above her at the chaos spreading below, and saw the crimson scaled dracthyr laying in a pool of blood. Raszageth’s breath had shattered the ground around them, sending rock flying everywhere, and it had shredded their wings and scales. The extreme heat of her breath had scorched what wasn’t bleeding, one of their eyes was gone entirely.

“Laurelgosa…” they gasped, reaching out a clawed hand. “Leave me… run from here… don’t… let them…” they whispered hoarsely.

Laurelgosa’s eyes widened, but the crimson dracthyr suddenly coughed. a horrible wet sound, and Laurelgosa saw a jagged shard of rock protruding from their chest. Their arm fell to the ground, the light going out in their remaining eye.

“Jakrostrasz!” she gasped, thrusting her hand out infront of her, then yelping and pulling it back, stuffing her thumb in her mouth as she burned it on the brazier as the others cried out in alarm. Sekhi dropped her flute in her lap in shock as Nitika winced in sympathy to the burn, Galdia snorting a bit and standing ready to grab the dracthyr if needed.

“AUGH!” gasped Laura, shaking her hand and looking around. She was back in the present now, or had she ever truly left? She couldn’t tell.

“I… I remember…” she whispered, “We fought..." she hesitated, the Horde and Alliance were keeping the truth behind the leaders of the Primalists secret to avoid causing panic among their populace, "... a deadly enemy twenty thousand years ago. I was in shock, something had broken and… it had freed me from… something? I…” she shuddered, remembering the dracthyr’s face, “I… saw my clutchmate die right infront of me. He was wounded, but I could not think clearly… and… I could not save them.” she whispered, staring at the burn mark already swelling on their thumb.

Nelen had his notebook out, the charcoal stick moving like a blur. “Astounding… so the dracthyr were sealed following a battle with a major foe, but what was that about being ‘freed?’” he asked, looking up at her.

She shook her head, “I cannot recall… my clutchmate, Jakrostrasz, seemed to know what had happened. I just remember…” she screwed up her eyes, “A feeling of… order, perfection, we were all united somehow… then the battle came and…” she hesitated, trying to hold onto the memories, “He said something about a relic being broken. I can recall no more.” she shook her head, looking to the brazier… perhaps another breath.

Sekhi yipped, then shook her head, “NO! I mean, no… it ain't safe to do it again so soon! Th' elements are telling that’s really dangerous, like ya could get lost in your memories bad!” she insisted, slapping out a rhythm against her thigh with her hands. When she did a sudden miniature rainstorm appeared above the brasier, just long enough to extinguish the burning within. “We can try again maybe in a few weeks, but ya gotta wait.”

She nodded, “I see… then, I will wait.” she replied, rubbing at the blister on her thumb with her fingertip. Inside however she wanted to dive back in right away. Jakostrasz had been trying to tell her something before he died, but what? What was he talking about when he said ‘freed?’ Freed from what?

Would she ever know the answer now?

Next Story

Previous Story

[lunatic-pudge]

I saw your 2-D headcanons and I’m wondering if you have any others about the Noodle or Russel, (just because there’s already so much out there about Murdoc already) you don’t have to do both or either if you don’t want to

How about this, I give you headcanons for BOTH Noodle and Russel? I know how hard it can be to find stuff for them so allow me to offer something. Also, if anyone want to ask stuff, please do! I need ideas and I wanna give the people what they want! It can be for Gorillaz and/or the Gangreen Gang, I've been thirsting over Snake recently and I need some Snake content plz. :D

TW for Russel, I bring up SH with him.

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Russel

• I've always pictured Russel to be Asexual. I just feel like he wouldn't have a sexual attraction towards people. He def prefers the romantic aspects of a relationship. This was probably something that he struggled to understand at first, but then once he found out about Asexuality it all clicked and he was finally able to find peace with that part of him.

• His biggest struggle of all has always been his mental health. He tries to get help for it but nothing seems to work and it hurts to know. He's actively advocates for mental health awareness and suicide prevention. He also suffers from self harm, not as much as he used to but the urges are strong and hard to fight. He tries his hardest to seem strong and able to handle anything but sometimes he has days where he doesn't even want to get out of bed cause of how miserable he feels.

• Out of him, 2D, and Murdoc, he's def the most Father-like towards Noodle. He sees her as his daughter and was the one who had a set schedule for her when she was a child. He was the one she would go to at night when she'd have nightmares. He would always make sure that when it came to food, she had the best and only the best. I can see him helping her with embracing her Japanese heritage and even learned the language so he could speak to her and help her! Has probably even taught her about his out heritage as well and they def bonded over it all. This man is a 12/10 Father for her.

• Def knows MMA, and other types of fighting styles. Growing up how he did, he had to learn these skills in order to survive. But I see him being more of a pacsifist cause of it so he will only fight in self-defense, but would do boxing charities cause he good boy. Has taught Noodle how to defend herself.

• Is the best out of all of them when it comes to cooking. Is always trying new recipies. Has all sorts of cook books from different cultures. He and Noddle are the ones deligated to cooking, Murdoc and 2D are banned from the kitchen. He knows how to even make the most difficult dishes and would even have some of the most hard to get spices, he's the reason why Noodle is also a good cook.

• Taxidermy is his passion. If you wanna be his S/O, you better also be into taxidermy as well. Imagine working on a project with him, yeah it'll be gross and tedious, but it's Russel so it makes it all the better. He has countless anatomy and zoology books he constantly reads so when he works on an animal, it looks as alive as he can make it. You'll never see a bad taxidermy project from him.

• Also loves to paint. Will go to national parks and paint the scenery. Tries different types of paint but I see him like oil paints the best. Will go to art museums to study the works in there. This man is always looking to improve his craft.

Noodle

• I will forever say that Noodle is a lesbian. You'll have to pry this from my cold, dead hands. She will never give men the time of day. She just can't see her self being with a guy. Though it's hard having a relationship when they keep getting scared away by the rest of the band (mainly Murdoc). You can find her at LGBT+ clubs hitting on all the cute women who talk to her.

• Def an alt girl. She's the hot goth girl that appears on your For You page on Tik Tok. She'd be blasting J-Rock day and night, going to concerts for bands such as Dir En Grey. She'd wear Demonia's just so she can be tall for once. You know damn well she has a Demonia collection and has mastered the art of walking (and even dancing!) in them. She's gotta impress the ladies somehow!

• Has a MASSIVE video game collection. From retro to new, she's always playing something. Is def an avid Animal Crossing player. Has a super beautiful town and some top tier villagers. She'd be the type to trap unwanted villagers with pitfalls or making holes around them so the can't move. I can also see her doing some competitive gaming as well. She'd be owning them smelly neckbeards and when they throw a fit about losing to a female, she'd laugh in their faces like the bad bitch she is.

• She'd be the type of person at conventions to give foul smelling people deoderant and protect those who are getting harassed. She would hand make her outfits and is open to pictures, just no touching though. Is always buying stuff at cons and leaving with handfuls of stuff. She loves supporting small creators and will have the stuff she bought hung up in her room, she rotates stuff so everything has a chance to be up on her walls.

• I see her owning some exotic or less conventional animals. She'd either own a snake, rats, a hedgehog, a fox, or other animals. I feel she would be a rat mom most of all. And she'd give them such an amazing life! They would have such a huge cage and all the things they could ever want and need. She would let them free roam in her room and has over a dozen photoalbums of her precious babies.

• I can see her having children and being child-free. She would be a good Mother if she ever has kids but I know kids aren't everyone's forte. But if she chose to be child-free, I doubt she'd bring it up often. She'd most likely keep it to herself and when it comes to relationships, she'd bring it up first so they knew where her stance on having kids is at. She doesn't want to hurt her S/O's feelings.

[gaiuswrites]

World's Best

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader

Summary: Not every day is easy. Frankie makes it better.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 2.2k~

Warnings/tags: smut, vague-ish descriptions of depression/mental health, hurt/comfort, fluff

Notes: Do y'all ever get into a funk and then attempt to write yourself out of one? Well, this is the v self-indulgent product of said instance heh. I have tagged a random assortment of potentionally interested people but obvi no pressure? idk? :) Sending so much love and well wishes to you guys. x

Masterlist | Read it on Ao3!

A sea of knotted sheets spans between you—as tangled as your legs—too tired, too leaden to unweave. The fan rotates in the corner, blowing stale air your way every few clicks. You dangle a foot off the bed, skin prickling as the weak breeze sweeps over you and a bead of sweat licks from your knee to slope down your calf. Morning sun leaks through the window— the finch perched on the tree just outside it chirping once, twice, before flitting off.

You’ve been reading the Sunday paper for a solid twenty minutes—which, in all honesty, is an overstatement; you started and quickly abandoned the Sudoku after a measly ten, and you’ve been staring at the same sentence in the local section for the other half, blinklessly hovering over the fine print.

You’re not here today. Not all of you.

There’s this sinking feeling, hollowing you out and unmaking you. It’s as if something unseeable is oozing over you - dripping - something treacle, something thick. You’re far away from yourself—far from the cornflower blue walls and the framed photos hanging on them—the happy faces in the pictures smiling back at you— far from the plants basking in the tines of filtered light by the sill, far from the body lying beside you.

You’re not always this way. Not every day drags like an inky smear, your mind meandering sluggishly in circles, holding you hostage in a prison of your own making; but you can’t say it’s foreign to you either. It’s old, familiar—like that sweater in your closet you’ve had for centuries and rarely wear, but can’t bring yourself to get rid of. You know it well, this slog—you have unwillingly memorized it’s sodden intricacies, and today you feel it. You feel every single one of your days—each grey hour— weighing heavy on your very bones.

heavy heavy

heavier, still.

If you’re not careful, you’ll sink straight through the mattress. You’ll nestle deep into the springs and make a home in the down. You’ll sleep there until you become it. Comfortable. Catatonic.

Frankie sips his coffee. He doesn’t look up from the email he’s skimming. “What’s wrong?”

The baritone of your boyfriend’s voice sucks you back to the present—to the tick of the clock marking the seconds, the whir of the fan. The paper crinkles as you lay it to your chest—big eyes feigning ignorance as you blink up at him, chewing your lip. “Hmm?”

“Baby, I know that face.”

“What face?”

“The one you’ve got on,” he replies, “that’s your ‘I’m-upset-and-I’m-trying-to-hide-it’ face.’”

“I-” you frown, “no it’s not.” Gingerly, you pat a hand around your temple, your cheek, as if you could see your expression through touch.

“Uh huh.” Frankie rolls his digit upon the mousepad, clicking and scrolling down the webpage, and your vision glazes over again—ugly thoughts fogging up the panels of your mind—

“You gonna talk to me about it?”

You blink, swallowing, “nothing to talk about.” You flap the paper, ironing out the pleats, and scan for that pesky paragraph you never managed to finish.

“Mhm,” he replies absentmindedly, bringing the mug to his lips and drinking with an all too obvious slurp.

“Really, I’m fine,” you say weakly. You’re not that convincing—you barely convince yourself.

“Sure, sweetheart. If you say so.”

He’s too casual; he’s letting it all go too easily and God, he’s gotten good at this—at coaxing the truth out of you. He doesn’t even have to try any more. He’s so kind and open and sincere, all he has to do is crack the door ajar—tempt you with an inch of space, with only a sliver of leeway—and immediately you want to plunge through it and chase after him, like a dog and a bone.

He makes you want to share; not because of what he says, but by everything he doesn’t—the welcoming gaps he leaves you with, the gaps you’re urged to fill. This happens every time—it’s pretty damn annoying, actually. You’re so miserably predictable. After three and a half years together, sometimes you think Frankie might know you better than you know yourself.

A scary thought—wonderful, too.

“I’m just-” You run a hand over your face, pressing into the bridge of your nose and you grunt, frustrated. Exhausted. “I’m just tired.”

Frankie settles his coffee cup on the hill of his sternum, closing his laptop quietly. He swivels his head to you, hair mussing into the wall.

“Of anything in particular?” he asks, linen soft.

“No, yes—I don’t know,” you heave—an errant thing fluttering around in your chest as you fold the newspaper, letting it float to the floor with a splat. “It’s just-” you worry the inside of your cheek raw, fumbling with the blur of your emotions. You shake your head. “It’s just a bad brain day.” Your voice is small as you slump into him, letting your body go limp.

“I’m sorry I get like this. I’m okay—I’ll be okay,” you mumble, face burrowed into his arm. He smells summered, like sweat and heat and the promise of long days fading into even longer nights, and you take a heady drag, inhaling his scent.

You hear him sigh, stretching as he sets the mug and computer down on the side table. He shifts back to you, snaking an arm under your body as you coil your own around his center, hugging him close.

“You know, it’s alright if you’re not,” Frankie murmurs into your hair, planting a kiss at the crown of your head. “And you know you don’t have to hide from me when you aren’t.” His thumb finds your arm, the chewed nail bed scratching soothing circles along your skin.

Your gut somersaults, flipping and purring, and all you can do is press your lips to the cottoned shoulder of his tee shirt—the one with the holes in the collar and motor oil stain on the hem; all you can do is tighten your grasp, wringing around his cozy waist.

“And you know that nothing you say is gonna scare me away, right? I’m always going to be here for you.” Frankie gives your forearm a reassuring squeeze.

God, this man.

You nuzzle further into his chest—snuggled and swaddled in the safety of his warmth—and you mumble something incoherent, muffled against his relaxed body. His beard catches on your fly-aways as he dips to hear you better. “What was that honey?”

“I said,” you crane your neck, lifting out of his side, “you really are the ‘world’s best uncle’.”

A ripple of confusion twists over his features before you bat your eyes up to meet his, shooting a glance over to that exact phrase wrapping itself around the ceramic cup beside him.

You got stuck with it at some terrible white elephant exchange last Christmas. It’s fucking tacky and aggressively large—not even you - you, in all your caffeine dependency - can chug that much coffee fast enough in one sitting without it going cold— and neither of you have any nieces or nephews to speak of…

Naturally, it’s become your favorite mug.

Frankie barks out a laugh, his stomach flexing against your grasp. “Oh yeah? Is that all I am?” he smirks, a glint of mischievousness reflecting in his irises as he bores down at you.

You quirk an eyebrow, a coy tug blooming across your lips. “I dunno,” you drawl sweetly, “you going to prove me otherwise?”

His face is split into a grin now, wide and aching and unnecessarily endearing. His hair is a mess, wavy tufts jutting out every which way, and his eyelids are still puffy from what little slumber he was lucky enough to get in your hot, cramped apartment.

You really can’t keep putting it off—you need to buy an AC unit.

His focus dances from your eyes to your mouth, breath hitching as he watches you skip your tongue over the plush mound there. “I just might,” he growls playfully, maneuvering you onto your back with one broad swoop, pinning you to the bed.

/

He makes love to you like a man unburdened - untouched - by time. He fucks into you slowly, unhurriedly—at a pace that’s mind numbingly measured and patient. Frankie devastates you, dragging himself through your walls from head to hilt, letting you feel every ridge, every vein of him; filling you up so impossibly well—his thick cock sauntering in and out, and in and out again. Each roll of his hips makes you gasp, his blunt tip brushing against that deep, uncharted chasm within you that tempts you into oblivion. Your legs are locked around him, crossed at the ankles, and the perspiration at the pits of your knees slicks his sides.

Frankie’s palms dimple the fitted sheet as he brackets your head, burying himself into the crook of your neck. He moans—hot breath ghosting over the prickled skin there, babbling disjointed strings of guttural praise into your ear.

Fuck baby—fuck you feel good

How’d I get so lucky, how’d I-

God, you’re a— fuck

You’ve got the perfect pussy—made for me

Made for me, made for me, made for-

You turn your head and capture his mouth with your own, whimpering into him as he nips at your bottom lip and bites. You scrape your fingers through his scalp, pulling at his locks, and Frankie whines a tortured noise—giving an especially hard thrust that pries a yelp from your throat. He rears his head back, catching your gaze, a concerned line creased into his brow. “Y-You okay?”

“No- nono, yes Frankie. Again, right there,” you beg, lashes fluttering.

He darkens—the timbre of his voice made husky and raw as he drinks in the sights and sounds of you mewling for him, splayed and needy. “You like that?” Frankie drives into you again, sharp and searing as he bottoms out, the smattering of curls at the base of him soaked with your gloss. “You need it hard, baby? You want it rough?”

You whimper, clawing desperately at the nape of his neck. “I just—I just want you, all of you,” you pant as you hold his stare—the gorgeous, chestnut gleam of it—and the wordless expression that crests over his features makes you want to cry. The precious indent in his cheek, the stubble littering his jaw, his sculpted nose and clever lips, the sad rings under his eyes—the grooves he thinks you don’t notice, the grooves he tries to mask by always taking care of you, always putting you first, even when he shouldn’t.

Fuck, he’s so beautiful—he’s so beautiful you could weep.

“You have me,” he rasps breathlessly, bowing to meet you in a messy whirl of tongue and teeth before breaking away—forcing himself up off his hands and back onto his shins. He hooks an elbow under your knee, letting the other frame the outside of his hip. “I’m right here—you have me, you have me-”

Frankie’s hips are frantic now, pulsing in short, strong bursts as he grinds into you. He dips a hand to your center, pad of his thumb working erratic, sloppy flicks over the sensitive nub of your swollen clit. Your feet arch, the muscles there constricting as the tension in you mounts.

“Babe.” You’re whining now, vulnerable and shaking and fuck, you’re going to come apart—any moment now, any unbearable second, you’ll snap. “F-Frankie, baby oh god—”

You clamp a hand over your mouth, eyes screwing shut as you shatter. Like a vase crashing onto kitchen tile, you break into a million jagged fragments. Your cunt seizes, legs spasming against him as he fucks you through your orgasm, and it doesn’t take long for the tight contractions of your heat to yank him right off that same ledge. The both of you—tumbling and fracturing into terrible, perfect shards—to be intermingled and scattered among each other’s glass pieces.

Indiscernible. The same.

When you glue yourself back together again, you will find parts of him there - here, within you - filling your jigsawed cracks like golden ore.

Frankie slips out of you with a squelch and a huffed groan, collapsing to the mattress in a panting heap. His cum dribbles from your apex and you shiver at the feeling of it—at the feeling of him, warm and wet and lingering inside you. He rests his cheek on your breast while you both catch your breath—rising, falling. Waxing, waning. Two pitter-pattering hearts beating in time.

The sheets have been sloughed, lazy and forgotten, to a crumpled pile on the wood floor and the steam once rising from the mug on the nightstand has long since disappeared. It’s too muggy for you two to be this entwined—his leg draped over you, a big arm slung across your belly—but neither of you dare move. Neither of you have the energy, never mind the desire.

The clock whispers in the morning quiet.

A new bird claims the branch the finch left—she sings now, roosting there in the birch.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur sleepily, drawing patterns into the valley of his spine, mapping out his freckles and moles and scars. “Thank you,” you say. Thank you for putting up with me, thank you for understanding me, thank you for listening even when I cannot speak. “I love you so much.”

Gently, silently, Frankie tilts his head, bristled hair peppering your flesh as he mattes your skin with his lips; laving along your breasts, across your clavicle and up the plain of your neck—each kiss a response, each kiss a truth.

You don’t have to apologize

You don’t have to thank me

I love you

I love you

I’m right here

I love you

tags:

@pedros-mustache @roxypeanut @frannyzooey @djarinsbeskar @read-and-rec @keeper0fthestars @krissology @greatcircle79

[ratmonky]

Stranger Danger

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: non-con

AO3 Link

Don’t trust strangers on the internet.

Just like how they taught you not to walk off with someone you didn’t know, it was the first thing your parents lectured you about when you started using the family computer. Simple. Stay away from the people who tried to befriend you because they were probably out to get you.

That was why you were wary of making friends online when you first started using the computer, scared that someone might kidnap you through the screen.

Pfft, you had quite an imagination when you were little.

Your parents were also a little too paranoid, of course, you had to be careful on the internet as they told you but there was nothing wrong with making friends. The internet brought people of the same interests together and it helped many people like you who had a hard time making friends start talking to others. Especially with helping you find many sorcerer students like yourself.

You had many friends now, some you video chatted and some you even had met in person.

Today, you were going to meet another one of your friends in person. Another sorcerer college student around the same age as you. You had met Kokichi on one of those sorcerer dating websites and instantly hit it off from the moment you had met before becoming more than friends.

Although his webcam never worked or how he was always out of breath while talking to you, it didn’t stop the two of you from falling in love.

Kokichi lived in Kyoto, far away from where you lived, and trying to manage a long-distance relationship was hard. That was why he had suggested that the two of you met in Kyoto and tried to see if you felt the same about him after meeting in person. If you liked him even after meeting him in person, then your relationship could progress into something more.

You blushed thinking about moving in with him. Ahh, wouldn’t that be wonderful!

Shaking your head you tried to stop yourself from daydreaming and park your car where Kokichi had told you to. Apparently, the parking rules in Kyoto were different than in your city, you had to find a parking lot almost far outside of the city so you wouldn’t get a ticket.

It took you two hours to get here using the highway. Although you would have rather taken the train or bus, it was a lot faster to drive. It took you another fifteen minutes to get to your meeting point with him after you took a taxi.

Kokichi didn’t pick up his phone. You had been trying to reach him since this evening. You weren’t sure if he was already standing next to the alley of the bar your cab driver dropped you off a little while ago or if he was late.

Sick of waiting, you took out your pack of cigarettes and walked deeper into the alley to check. After taking a cigarette out and putting it between your lips, you lit the tip, inhaling deeply.

You were going to scold him for making you wait. A laugh escaped you at the thought of Kokichi telling you how he had explained to you that he was taking the train and it would be slower than you driving here or something along those lines.

Well, it would be a nice icebreaker.

While you were busy smoking and lost in your thoughts, sharp pain to the side of your head made you stumble forward. You dropped your cigarette and before you knew it your knees gave up under you, making you crumple to the ground as your vision went dark.

~~~

You froze. Not wanting to move or open your eyes until you could recall what had happened.

There were faint sounds of grunting. The next thing you noticed was the smell. Earthy, cold, and coppery. You tried to identify the foreign smell as you become aware of the tingling from between your legs. It had started to hurt, your hips felt sore and your eyelids felt heavier than usual.

The grunting sounds were soft and you could easily recognize the other sounds aside from it. It was like gears moving, a machine, closer to the sounds your door made when it wasn’t oiled up well, creaking and kinda ringing...

You had probably left the television on, slowly, you opened your eyes.

All you saw was dark, your back felt cold against something metallic. Your back was being roughly rubbed against your metal. What? It was hard for you to understand what was going on. With a pathetic attempt to move your legs, you only felt them being held tightly. There were splashing sounds, your ass was splashing against water. Tears started streaming down your face. you still couldn’t comprehend what was happening but you could feel it. You started to panic as the sudden realization of something thick and firm moving hastily inside you hit you hard.

Opening your eyes, you stared at a man in bandages who was kneading the soft flesh of one of your breasts, his mouth on the other, sucking your nipple in his mouth. You felt his hot tongue swirl around your nipple and an involuntary moan left your lips.

The sharp smell of the medical liquid made you nauseous as you remembered what had happened. But you had to stay calm and try to understand where you were.

You began to panic, trying to move your muscles but you could barely move. Strained, fear of the darkness drove you to move your limbs slightly. You threw your head back in shame and noticed the robot that was holding you instead of looking at the man inside the bathtub of medical liquid. Finally having your mind schooled back online, you started to notice your surroundings. First of all, you were in a cave-like place, being held by a robot by the back of your knees and the robot was moving you up and down on this man’s-

Another moan left your lips when the man’s cock hit a good spot. Glaring at the man, you tried moving your arms that hung slack by your sides but your limbs were weaker than you had realized. Your legs wouldn’t move either, your entire body felt sore.

There was nothing you could do as the robot lowered you up and on this man’s cock other than try to understand what had happened.

You stayed limp in the robot’s arms and took it as your assaulter kept furiously fucking you like a rabid dog in heat with the help of the robot. While the robot lowered you onto his cock and leaned forward for a second, you felt his hand reach to the back of your head and pull you down forcefully to crash your lips against yours as he used the same hand to run his fingers through your hair. He let out a quiet groan into the kiss and lolled out his tongue to lick your face, leaving a trail of his drool that chilled your skin. His hand in your hair crept between your bodies and he flicked a finger on your clit.

Jolting, you bit back a moan.

“The pictures on your profile didn’t do you any justice,” he spoke, planting kisses on your chest. “You’re so much prettier in person.”

Out of a sudden, it clicked.

“Kokichi?” His name broke into a moan as the robot slammed you down onto his cock. The robot was still bouncing you on his cock but to him, it wasn’t enough, he needed more. He had to feel more of you.

The robot dropped you in the bathtub, on top of Kokichi with his cock deep inside you. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck so you wouldn’t sink deeper into the bathtub. The medical liquid inside was cold, it made you shiver but Kokichi’s body was warm. He wrapped his arm around you and pressed his face into the crook of your neck.

“I can’t move my lower body without Mechamaru, I need you to comply.” His tone was impatient, the arm around you was trying to guide you to move your hips.

A grunt left you from the massive effort it took just to move your arm. Finally, you managed to move your arms, although it was heavy and almost impossible, luckily you succeeded. You shook your head, weakly pushing him away from yourself but as tiny, the bathtub was you didn’t have much space. Kokichi wasn’t going to let you move away from him either, he suddenly grabbed you and pulled you back, the liquid inside splashed from the force.

He groaned and you saw Mechamaru move again. The robot’s hands grabbed you from under your armpits, lifting you up and pushing you down onto Kokichi. He had his arm around you, moving your hips freely as he wanted since your weight had lightened thanks to his robot.

Your gummy walls clenched around his cock as you squirmed uselessly. He was breathing slowly and evenly while he carefully pulled you down for another sloppy kiss, paying no attention to your whimpers or the tears streaming down your face.

“You look so erotic when you cry,” he grunted, his hand moving to squeeze your cheeks together until your lips puckered. “Makes me wanna ruin you.”

You glared at him through your tears as he licked your tears that had streamed down to your cheeks before kissing you hungrily. He was inexperienced, you could tell from the way your teeth clashed and how desperately he tried to snake his tongue down your throat for no reason.

Mechamaru started frantically bouncing you on Kokichi’s cock, taking you by surprise. The irregular pace was gone, now, he was fucking you frenziedly, making sure that your gummy walls took the shape of his cock. After a particular spot his cock stroked, your pussy squeezed around him, causing you to moan into the kiss.

He broke the kiss, groaned loudly as your gummy walls started spasming around his cock. His bandaged hand went to grab your hip tightly to move you on his cock forcibly.

Medical fluid splashed and splattered on the ground each time you slammed yourself on his cock frantically with Mechamaru’s help.

You gasped in pleasure, your body was getting aroused. He must have noticed it because a smug grin spread on his lips before Mechamaru pounded you on Kokichi’s throbbing cock.

The knot of pleasure building in your gut quickly took over your senses, your gummy walls clenched around his cock and your muscles inside started pulsating.

Kokichi was caught off guard by your cunt trying to milk him for all he was worth. His cock twitched inside you as he lost control of Mechamaru who abruptly dropped you onto his cock. With a wanton moan, you wrapped your arms wrapped around him to balance yourself. His cock throbbed inside your pussy and thick spurts of cum burst inside your womb.

It continued coming out until you felt it overflow. As if he had been saving everything he got for this moment.

You went limp on his lap with his arm barely holding you up. Still, Kokichi managed to press a kiss against your temple, silently promising to keep you safe from the strangers on the internet from now on.

Or rather, he wanted to keep you for himself. Kokichi, as someone who had grown up on the internet, was desensitized to many things. He had no idea how women worked and most of the things he had learned about sex were from hardcore porn. Sometimes from even a more disturbing genre of porn. Having you here with him was something he had planned for a long time. He had been patient, patient, and patient. There was no way he was going to let you go. No, not when he finally had a taste of you. He wasn’t going to be only an internet friend or someone you met online who you got to be more than friends. He was going to be something a lot more than that. Perhaps, a boyfriend. Yeah, that had a nice ring to it.

One thing was for sure, the two of you weren’t going to be in a long-distance relationship anymore.

[colossal-fallout]

AoT Valentines Day H/C’s

 Head canons of how the following Characters would spend V day with their s/o.

Warnings; NSFW. 18+ only. Smut & Fluff. 

Fem!Reader x Various Characters.

You have been warned...

Eren Yeager: 

- You’d better buckle up and brace yourself, because this dark horse will absolutely astonish you with his valentine plans. 

- He may act nonchalant about the whole affair, both before the event and during, possibly throwing you off guard and believing he isn’t actually going to do much, if anything at all. 

- Oh, how wrong you are.

- So... so wrong.

- Expect a hell of a lot of affection. I can see his moody/brooding eyes glancing at onlookers as he wraps his arms around you, kissing your neck sensually; not giving a single f*ck who was watching. Today is about you, and you alone. If anyone had a problem with that, then they’d have to speak to him.

 Not that they’d have the balls to...

- He will shower you with gifts. 

Red roses, jewellery, soft toys, sex toys, lingerie... 

Even if being spoiled with material things isn’t your thing, he will still do it. You deserve to feel like the queen he sees you as and today you will accept his love, no matter what. 

- Back to that, ‘ not giving a f who was watching ‘ situation, he silently gloats as its the perfect excuse to boldly show others that you are his and no one should come near you with romantic intentions. 

- He’ll definitely wine and dine you. The fanciest restaurant in town, your favourite food, music... the whole SHABANG. 

 Because of how busy he is, he doesn’t get to do this with you as much as he’d like so he makes the most of it.

- Then prepare your poor, unsuspecting booty. Because you will be SHOOK.

-  He will spend hours warming you up. Kissing and nipping every inch of your skin, edging his way slowly to your core. Sighing and gasping at your beauty the whole time; praising you. His warm breath blanketing your skin.

By the time he gets there, you’re so fired up you can hardly take it. 

- But, unfortunately he’s nowhere near done. He’ll run his tongue up you so 

s l o w l y. He’ll over stimulate you, tease you and whisper the dirtiest things into you as he begins to include his fingers. 

- He won’t even consider sliding inside of you until you’ve came at least three or four times. 

- When he eventually does, he’s so turned on by the time he enters himself into you, he just sort of rolls you both up in a close ball, putting your legs up and wrapping his arms around you tightly, his head against yours and panting. 

- “I love you, y/n...” 

- After the biggest orgasm of his life, he’ll whisk you away to the shower before laying you back down into bed, head on his chest and telling you how much you mean to him. 

Levi Ackerman; 

- Levi isn’t a fan of PDA since he’s not only a stoic person, but a Captain held in high regard and wants to keep things professional around others. 

But in certain situations (like valentines day) he’ll pat your head and brush your hair out of your eyes in front of his comrades. (Hair touching is Levi’s love language.)

- But once you’re in private, ooooh boy.

- Levi would make you your favourite food. He would consider taking you out but depending on his mood; he can’t really be dealing with people coming up and bothering him while trying to spend quality time with you.

 “Ah, Levi. I didn’t think you ate here! Did you get my report on the --” 

 “Hange. Fuck off.” 

- Red Roses. Lots of them. I can also see him buying you a new cloak. He doesn’t want you to be cold, and that old one is starting to smell...

- He would sit with his arm around the back of the chair you’re sitting in resting on the back lazily, with one leg sticking out. 

You’re not on duty. This is the strongest yet most subtle way of letting others know; you. are. his.

- Sex with Levi would always be amazing, regardless of the day. But on special occasions, he treats you to a fantastic body massage before he starts getting heated.

Oils. Candles. He’ll even slowly (and gladly) bathe you. 

- Expect the usual; taking his time with you, showing off his strength by eating you out against the wall, your legs over his shoulders, regardless of height difference. 

- He’ll have you all over the room. 

- The only difference is, today he peppers the dirty talk with some sweet nothings.

“I love making you squirm... you’re so beautiful.”

“Fuck, you feel so good around me.  ...I love you, y/n.” 

Porco Galliard; 

(Side note; Porco isn’t my favourite since my best boy is Reiner, and I wanted to headbutt him when I saw the scene of him beating Reiner when they were young lol. I’ll try!) 

- Porco is a cocky little sh-

Porco is a pretty confident guy, so on Valentines day, expect a decent amount of PDA. Snaking his arms around your hips from behind and kissing the crook of your neck.

- Beneath his... ego, does lie someone who really cares deeply for his friends and family. So expect to be spoiled.

A lot. 

- “Anything you want, baby.” 

- He’d prefer to take you somewhere more quiet for food, a cosy corner in a gusto bar or maybe eating alfresco at a lesser known restaurant. 

- He’ll parade you around town, his arm draped across your shoulder, showing you off with a proud smirk tugging the corners of his mouth. 

- I can see him being a dirty dark horse in the bedroom. 

- He loves eating you out. Controlling when you cum, and making sure he is the only one who can make you feel this good at his mercy.

- His head expands several sizes when you beg for him or whimper his name. 

 “That’s right, beautiful. Who is making you feel so good, huh?” 

- Dirty talk. A lot of it. And if you like it, he would defiantly be into degrading you. 

“You take my cock like a good little whore.” 

- Aftercare, I can see him being pretty clingy. He’d love to spoon you and have you close, running his fingers through your hair and grazing his fingers down your arm. 

Armin Arlert; 

- Armin is such a thoughtful person, he had this day planned for weeks.

- He’ll take into consideration your most favourite things to do. 

Like the outdoors? Picnic.

Like to read? You betcha he’s taking you to the bookstore and buying you any you want.

- Expect him to lead you to a warm private area he's covered in candles and flower petals.

- He'll massage you from your feet, right up to your head. All while talking softly to you, telling you how he's felt since you met and how much you mean to him now.

- He will never take you for granted and will tell you this while he's working your thighs with his oiled hands.

- He will hesitate once he's reached your hips but will restrain himself until he's finished rubbing knots out of your entire body.

- "Let me show you how much you mean to me..." As he slowly lowers his head between your legs without once tearing his ocean blues from your eyes.

- Armin will carefully and meticulously work you, he's memorised all of your sensitive spots and how you like things done. He is amazing with his fingers.

- He'll relish your taste; passion and lust transforming this usually shy person into a hungry beast. He'll lick your wetness off his fingers before gently lifting you up, and sitting you down on his cock.

- Expect a lot of praise while you ride him. He loves telling you how beautiful you are.

- Once you're finished, he'll happily hold you while you quiver from aftershocks, kissing your head and playing with your hair.

- "That was amazing, y/n. I love you. So much."

Reiner Braun;

- Once Reiner loves, he loves so deeply.

- So you betcha he has a plan up his sleeve to show you how much you mean to him. Although it probably stressed him to hell thinking of something good enough.

- If something went wrong or didn't go to plan, he would freak out slightly.

- Reiner would do anything to show you how special you are. If you were a bit of a thrill seeker and/or were passionate about Titans like Hange, I could see him transforming somewhere to carry you around on his shoulder or in his hand. Obviously somewhere he couldn't be seen easily and be reported.

- This perfect man would, like Armin, make it an all day thing. Picnic, a romantic walk, dinner and even stargazing. He loves spending time with you and it's hard to find the time usually.

- Much like Levi, sex with Reiner is always mind-blowing.

- He loves taking his time to please you. He won't ever finish until you've been satisfied more than once.

- He would be the opposite of Levi with the nasty speak. With Reiner, it would be sweet something's sprinkled with dirty talk.

"You're perfect. I love you, y/n. You ride my cock so good."

- No matter how long you have been together, he still counts his lucky stars you're his and would do anything to protect you and keep it that way. This certainly comes out in how good he fucks you.

- All in all, I don't think Reiner would treat you any differently to how he always does. He shows his appreciation for you every damn day.

- This bear of a man loves to cuddle so once you're finished making passionate love, hell spoon you, hold you as close to him as possible and just thank whatever god's there may be that he has you in his difficult life.

Zeke Yeager;

- Zeke. I don't know why, but whenever I think of Zeke and how he'd be like in bed I get a little scared lol

- Zeke is pure FILTH. ...But we'll get to that...

- For valentine's Day, Zeke would craft you something. A handmade bangle or some form of jewelry. Maybe a necklace from a precious gem he crushed himself

- Poetry. I can totally see him writing you a sweet poem and leaving it somewhere he'll know you'll come across.

- Monke man keeps his feelings and thoughts pretty close to his chest so PDA would not be his thing. He instead would cherish you in a more private setting.

- He will spoil you with the finest foods and wine. Spinal fluid free, of course.

- In bed, Zeke is a freak. Extremely dominating, he takes out his stresses and frustrations out on you in the bedroom.

- Teasing, degrading, over stimulating and he loves doing you up the arse. Biting, markings even yelling like some wild animal as you brush his tip against your tonsils.

- He'll happily sit you on his face and just let you ride it until your hearts content, his fingers roughly digging into your flesh as you quiver above him.

- Zeke likes to fill you up as much as possible so expect sex toys in each of your openings while he forcefully fucks your throat.

- He might even be into pain play if you'll allow him to partake.

- So after Valentine's Day, definitely expect to spend the next day walking like you've been riding your horse on an extremely long expodition.

Pieck; "y/n? Are you okay? You're walking like I do... Have you hurt yourself?"

Jean Kirstein;

- Poor Jean has the best intentions and really wants to make the day special for you. But he's just so clueless at this sort of thing and would probably mess stuff up due to nerves and second guessing himself.

- He'll write you a love letter or poem, but scattered around him are paper balls and torn ideas as he tries to make it perfect.

- He'll take too much on at once. He'll forget he had something cooking while he's setting up something else and it'll burn, resulting in a comical fit of rage. So instead, he takes you out.

- Once you've calmed him.down and reassured him it was the thought that mattered, he calms down and you both have a lovely time.

- He'll take you for a nice walk after food and he proudly shows you off on his arm the entire time.

- Jean in bed is extremely thoughtful. He likes to take his time and be gentle, worshipping you like the goddess you are.

- He won't ever let himself finish until he knows you've had your fill and then some.

- When you ride him, he blushes slightly and watches your movements in awe, totally unbelieving that he's inside of this beautiful woman.

- Aftercare with Jean is one of the best. He'll leasuirely massage you while you lie on him, pillow talking deep into the night as he tells you how amazing you are.

I enjoyed writing these. I'll write more if I get any interest ☺️ Happy Valentine's!

[husky-twst-and-obeyme]

When MC is sleep deprived and hides it from others

Warnings: fluff and wholesomeness uwu A gender neutral and this is romance :D

Riddle

He wasn’t aware of it at first 

he just assumed you might of been a little lazy at times

but noticed right away when you would faint 

after that incident, he’d pay more attention to you 

he started to notice how you’ll try to shut you eyes but immediately open wide  

he was sure you had bags under you eyes but you most likely covered them up so no one would notice

he didn’t want to wait longer and confront you about it

you explained that it was fine and that you had just too much energy at night but he wasn’t buying it 

he forced you to stay in your dorm to get as much sleep as needed, he would bring you your homework if you had to be away for days 

whenever he was free, he’d stay with you , sometimes even sleep with you so you had someone to have comfort with 

Leona

He noticed right away 

he may not seem like it but he’s well aware of when something is different about others 

he’s had times , which was rare, where he had lack of sleep. So he noticed it well with you 

he straight up just grabs you and holds you in his arms while he takes one of his naps 

he would purposely purr , but stops if you point it out , so that you could relax a little easier 

but 90% he did this, all you did was struggle to get out 

he then got ruggie to get you to savanclaw and he does the same thing again but he communicated a little 

“look herbivore, if you pass out no one’s gonna help and that means i have to...” 

and you just pulled into bed and just accepted your fate because he’s stubborn

Azul 

He wasn’t aware but  he at times got suspicious

he didn’t want to assume anything about you , especially since he’s aware how clingy he can be  

at times, he took mental notes , noticed how you acted, your posture , he even caught you sleeping when he wanted to meet you after class

he eventually talks to you about it because he started to get worried about his angelfish

at first, you didn’t want to tell him but his sad octo eyes couldn’t say no 

you did fess up but didn’t want to explain it to him fully which he understood but he still wanted to care for you 

he’d send more personal time with you , helping you get as much sleep as you could

he’d send the night over your dorm and make some tea 

when you guys sleep with each other , he secretly goes into his octo form and cuddles you 

don’t be fooled, he wakes up early just so you won’t see it , he does want to show but not at a time like this 

Kalim

poor baby doesn’t even notice one bit , even if the signs are obvious 

he just assumes you’re fine like usual and you use that to make sure he doesn’t know 

but you forget that he has a snake with him that’ll bite

jamil gives subtle hints to kalim about your health , mainly mental 

this scares kalim a bit because he thinks he might be the cause for it , yeah he had some late night parties but he didn’t think it could effect you that badly even nights in a row! 

he avoided you a bit , at least until he figured out how he could help you, you’re his precious jewel after all 

he decided to invite you over for a surprise , you expect a party but you just saw only Jamil and kalim 

“Mc! glad you could make it! “ “...no party??” “ nope! :D “

the 3 of you had Lavender tea , and you were around some candles that sort of made you sleepy 

it was so relaxing , especially being surrounded by pillows and blankets, you eventually fell asleep on kalim 

then he’d cover you up and kiss your forehead, after that you have more time like that , his parties can wait 

Vil

He doesn’t notice but rook does , he pays attention to his subjects 

he notifies Vil as soon as possible considering this was someone vil cared deeply about 

Vil , slightly irritated, confronted you about it 

you did you best to try to reassure him like ‘i’m fine, I just missed a night “ , Vil was not falling for it at all

He knew you were lying because he noticed makeup under your eyes  and not really anywhere else, so that’s a dead give away 

he takes you to his dorm and forces you to stay put 

he takes out face masks and  essential oil diffuser 

he gives you a beauty treatment while you relax through it 

then he started a bath for you with bath salts 

depending on how comfortable you are with him, he’ll either join you or sit next to you in a chair 

he’d watch you just in case you slept right then in there because the water did make you feel dizzy 

after that , you’d both lay in his bed , you’d sleep. you looked so adorable, he just had to snap a quick pic

Idia

He notices but doesn’t think too much on it 

Mainly because he stays up on nights too and sees it as a normal thing

that wasn’t his thought process for long though

you eventually were getting worst , barely staying away , you were pushing yourself and at times got moody 

he thought that he might of influenced you on bad sleeping habits , lovers do often mimic each other 

so he tried to sleep at good or at most decent times for sleep , which kinda worked for a while but you still were in bad shape 

he restored to having essential oils , he heard that if you have essential oil , on certain parts of your face, that it can relax you 

he even tried to use a hot towel on your face 

Ortho was worried to so he made some hot coco for you and cuddled with you , making his big brother a little jelly but it was too cute uwu

you gave up and just slept in idia’s arms , you and ortho were in his lap and he’s lowkey screaming because you guys look precious 

Malleus

someone help this poor boi- 

Malleus is not really affected by lack of sleep , he could not sleep for days and he’d be fine 

so he didn’t find it unusual for you to have lack of sleep 

then Lilia was like “sweetie. they’re a human, they need sleep , or they die “ he was exaggerating but Malleus took it seriously of course 

he seemed to be around you more often, more often then in public 

he would subtly hint that you should relax or or take a rest but you push it off 

he got irritated but held his anger and scolded you for your lack of self care 

he lokwey cast a spell Nonottheprickyourfingerbit that made you a little sleepy , but you would randomly sleep so he had to stay near so he could catch you if you were standing 

Lilia bonked him and just told him to just relax with you on a day off 

and he did, he literally looked like a dragon if he was trying to be a puppy and cuddled you 

Hope you enjoyed uwu

[pokedash55]

ULTRA LONG TIME TWIN HEADCANNONS

@sippin-on-waterfalls your post is ready

From Pokedash and Purplefern

Ooooooookay here we go.

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-Krux perceives time slower than others so he is easily late to events (plus he gets distracted and way into projects so he can easily lose track of time, ironically) so he could end up missing a lot of Elemental Alliance meetings

-Acronix made sure he informed Krux it was time to go (whenever he remembers, anyway) otherwise he’d be uber late all the time. Good thing they always go together

-Acronix is super early all the time because of his powers and he and Griffon Turner’s grandfather got along really well

-All the same, between lack of attention span, focusing on other things, and not caring for the meetings in general, Krux and Acronix miss a LOT of meetings 

-Before alliance meetings Wu is training little Morro and the Twins and the Master of Speed just waltz in the monastery doors an hour early

-Acronix teaches Morro some sick fighting moves (some rather underhanded)

-Krux advises him to never let people get away with harm cause you are the most important thing in your life. (Revenge!)

-Wu be like plz stop encouraging my kid into violence and dishonorable tactics.

-Krux brought refreshments to an EA party exactly once. It was pickled beet tea and nobody liked it. He took it very personally. 

-Back during the war, the love triangle with Misako was actually a love rectangle. Krux had a crush on her too but he literally had no idea how to act on it so his part of the rectangle was staring at her longingly from afar and not saying anything. 

-Yes Acronix teased him immensely about this. And tried to act as a wingman several times but Krux swore if he did he would murder him 

-Pre-series, Misako would do work for the museum a lot, so she ended up working with Sanders Saunders quite often. Despite her relationship to Wu and Garmadon and their “history”, he did like working with her ok

-They both also worked with the Explorer’s Club a lot, and have equal disdain for Cecil Putnam and Clutch Powers 

-Krux hates Cecil’s stuffy rules (even though he couldn’t show it while being Dr Saunders) and Clutch’s….everything

-Krux’s doctorate is real, and he has a doctorate in History and and Master’s degree in Museum Studies 

-He’s the Curator of History at the museum, and the other curator is the curator of natural sciences 

-Acronix is a big nicknames guy. He doesn’t usually call people by their actual names. Only the people he actually cares about or that he super hates. 

-But he also generally despises nicknames given TO him. The only people allowed to call him Nix/Nixie are  his brother and mother (and later Shannon). 

-Krux only calls Acronix "Nix" if he's feeling particularly vulnerable/scared/etc (so like, when being the older twin isn't feeling that fun and he decides to ignore those 3 minutes and be more like the "younger" twin.) So this becomes a lot less as he becomes more arrogant. 

-(Based on how he describes Dareth getting beat up by the Vermillion warrior) Krux likes watching wrestling. It’s a guilty pleasure of his 

-And of course Acronix loves it once he learns about it, so the two watch it together 

-Krux occasionally plays strategy board games. He tried to get Acronix into them but he found them boring. 

-(Sometimes he’ll suck it up and play with him anyway, though.) 

-Both are sass masters

-Both also like science

-But like completely different facets of science. 

-Krux of course likes the more stable and earthy sciences. Biology and geology, ecology. Those elemental science that have always existed but we just haven’t yet understood them

-Krux is also a total history nerd. Things like paleontology and anthropology are also really interesting to him 

-Yes he was a dinosaur kid. (Especially since dinosaurs had just started to be discovered back in his day.) 

-Acronix of course likes advancement and the otherworldly sciences. Technology, Astronomy. Sure we build upon the discoveries of the past but what about creating something new for the future? 

-Acronix does like bioengeneering since it is a new advancement but he knows saying so would make Krux grin with “I told you bio was cool” vibes

-Krux can engulf himself into his work or his schemes for days. As he is very patient. 

-Acronix is less so. He sees time constantly moving forward so sitting idle to “Plan” seems a ridiculous waste of time. 

-He jumps from activities quickly as the novelty of it wears off and he is always on a quest for what's new and what may work, not really what has been confirmed to work

-Krux of course sees this as a fool's errand. We need to respect the knowledge we have and use it and plan with it. 

-But when they are in sync you should be SCARED

-Both thinking in the Present can make them in perfect harmony, Both in fighting and talking.

-Their different planning methods can help eachother get things done. So yes, when they work together you should be scared 

-Krux can get really fixated on an idea, and get into major creative blocks. Acronix helps propose out of the box solutions that keep his ideas moving forwards that he wouldn’t have thought of himself. 

-But as we see they can also be reeeeallly different and fight over the miniscule things.  

-Krux lingers on Grudges easily as he physically cannot not put value to the events of the past.

-Acronix’s main grudge with the alliance came from his ego and arrogance, not his element. I think he feels very internally about wrongs to him in the moment but if he sees nothing really changed a couple of days later he loses interest in holding such a grudge easily

-Each of them have the ability to not be affected by the other’s powers

-Acronix has no patience to listen to anything he doesn’t want to hear. Back when he had his powers he COULD and WOULD just “skip” peoples’ dialogue if he got bored of it. 

-Krux has a bad habit of “freezing” people if he feels like they’re interrupting him. Like, he will freeze people who are trying to get him to stop working on something while he’s trying to get something done, and then get back to them when he feels like it. Everyone has to work on his time. (Annoyingly, this does not affect his brother, which is why Acronix is the only one who can actually get him to stop working on his projects.) 

-Whenever Krux & Acronix would hang out with Chen, Acronix loved messing with Clouse. Clouse reminds him of his brother, but even more stuffy and annoyed somehow, so he just has an instinctual urge to annoy him as much as possible. 

-(Clouse does not appreciate this, but Master Chen says they’re “important” to his plan so Clouse just suffers quietly.) 

-Acronix likes the Master of Speed, but also finds it annoying that he can resist his slo-mo powers by going really fast. (On the bright side, though, this does make him the closest thing to an equal he’ll get for a sparring partner, if Krux doesn’t want to train with him for whatever reason.) 

-Because of his element, Sound is one of the rare people who doesn’t really mind Krux but REALLY dislikes Acronix. Acronix is just so loud all the time and it physically pains him because he is so sensitive to vibrations and volume. Krux is generally pretty quiet so doesn’t bug him as much. 

-Acronix is an Entrepreneur (ESTP)  and Krux is an Architect (INTJ) 

-They have no Feeling whatsoever

-Otherwise, they are complete opposites

-Both of these personality types hate rules, regulations, and micromanaging restricting authority figures (hmm, wonder why they broke away from the alliance…)

-Acronix is arrogant in the way that he doesn’t care about his flaws, because obviously he is awesome and everyone else is just jelly, Krux is arrogant in the way that he hates people pointing out his flaws, because shut up he doesn’t have any 

-Their mother is Polaris, they take after her physically 

-Father is Kronos, they got their powers and ego from him 

-Their father actively encouraged them to have immense pride in their element -- being the former master of time himself 

-Ordered them the sweet matching armor

-He was a samurai back in his day, which is why the Twims wore samurai helmets.

-Between their two loving parents, the Twims were nearly spoiled 

-Krux and Acronix grew up pretty rich, Kronos was pretty much high society and Polaris was too 

-They went to a fairly fancy private school growing up

-But everyone there were snobs so they didn’t get along well with their classmates (what a surprise)

-Their parents died in a skirmish with Serpentine, leading the Twims to join the alliance full of vengeance. 

-Acronix has a battle scar from being grazed by an anacondrai sword on his left pec cause I said so

-Also a lot of misc snake bit scars and a burn scar from that one time (Ray’s got a bad temper and Acronix likes pressing people’s buttons, so that went super well)

-Acronix super cares about his looks so has a ton of, like, haircare and beauty products. Krux has a single bottle of 3-in-1 and a bar of soap and says that that’s sufficient. 

-Back in the day Acronix had a bunch of oils and whatever for his hair, and when he’s in the present he’s got a bunch of fancy shampoos and such.  He’s definitely the vain one of the two twins

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A collection of Neurodivergent Twims HCs

-Acronix has ADHD and Krux is autisitc

-Acronix is early, but only to things he remembers. He often forgets dates. And Krux will get involved with something else, and has a warped sense of time. Together, the two miss a lot of EM meetings 

-And when they’re at them, neither of them are good at conversations. Acronix talks a mile a minute and doesn’t let anyone get a word in edgewise. Krux either doesn’t talk to anyone or similarly dominates conversation and doesn’t let anyone else talk. 

-The two also get sent on solo missions alot

-They don’t focus well in a group setting (Acronix generally ignoring the plan for what he prioritizes as the better option and krux simply not being popular with the others and only really battling well beside his brother)

-They are generally strong enough to protect a village by themselves

-The other EM work better with them out of the way since they are “annoying” and no one really likes their arrogance, pride, or entire personhood

-They seem to be happier working only together than with the whole group

-Once during a group charge on a collection of Serpentine races Acronix notices a horde heading in a different direction and follows them impulsive

-All of these things together make them especially unpopular with the other EMs

-Especially with the Master of Ice, who considers their actions disrespectful and often scolds them on their behavior 

-Krux and Acronix can BOTH get hyperfixated on things they are interested in, and can also forget to eat and sleep.

-Acronix struggles with insomnia a lot because his brain doesn’t shut up. Luckily his brother never really sleeps either. They spend a lot of long nights talking about nonsense 

-Acronix tries to use time skip powers to not waste time while sleeping. He skips the night, but he still didn’t get sleep. He crashes after a few days of this and Krux tells him that he’s a moron 

-Acronix has a fidget spinner, which he got for the memes but ended up finding unironically helpful, and gives Krux a fidget cube (which Krux reluctantly accepts and actually does use pretty often.) 

-Before learning what a fidget spinner was he would flip his phone a lot. It was both an easily accessible stim and assurance he knew where it was cause he tended to leave things around at random. 

-Krux used nail-biting as a stim, mostly because it can appear pretty neurotypical 

-Acronix is “annoying” around the ninja during his lil redemption arc, but instead of reacting like the elemental masters, the Ninja actually do research and come to an understanding (especially Zane, who is perceptive, understanding, and has an instantaneous link to the internet). 

-Altogether he’s a little surprised when they actually put effort into tolerating and understanding his differences. Huh. How’s bout that? 

-Jay is also pretty understanding, he’s got a lot of nd cousins and has ADHD himself so it’s kinda just *shrugs*

-Modern dyes and preservatives really trigger Acronix’s ADHD to be even worse than usual. 

-Zane picks up on this, and like the mother hen that he is starts to put in a special effort to keep dyes away from Acronix (or to keep Acronix away from dyes, as the case may be)

-Jay has a similar problem with dyes (which Edna let the Ninja know about, thanks a lot ma ) so Zane works double time to keep them both away from dyes

-Makes special dishes that are “ADHD safe” 

-Neither appreciate it (well Jay does but will complain openly at every chance he gets)

-Acronix got into a lot of trouble with their dad when he was a kid, because he just couldn’t pay attention 

-Has bursts of anger a lot, oftentimes this happens during things like parties or pre-meeting conversations. (which easily leads to him getting a label of “aggressive” or “hotheaded” by the EMs) 

-DEFINITELY struggles with Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria

-Ninjago history is Krux’s special interest 

-Krux freezes people around him when he needs a sec to destim

-Krux is pretty high-functioning, but is on the borderline. He's high-functioning enough to be aware of himself and mask, but not enough to avoid things like shut/melt downs 

-Acronix is fiercely protective of his brother whenever he shuts down. Messing with Krux while he's like that (whether the antagonist is aware or not) is a one way ticket to his wrath as well as physical punishment. 

-Whenever things got too intense at a meeting/party type thing, Acronix would ditch and sneak them both out whenever Krux was heading towards a shut down. Being the awesome supportive twin that he is, he learned to pick up on the signs of one and was certain to prevent them pretty much whenever possible. 

-Acronix failed in his efforts only once (he was kind of sick that day and wasn’t at the top of his game to be keeping a watchful eye on his bro), and Krux kind of ended up time freezing a few of the EMs in the process. It was something the elemental masters (or Krux himself)  did not soon forget or forgive. 

-He'll go nonverbal sometimes, to the minor aggravation of the alliance. Sign language isn't a thing yet so anyone trying to understand him when he's like this are pretty much reliant on Acronix and his twin sense to translate. 

-When their parents died Krux went nonverbal for a little over a month. 

-Krux was pretty delayed in learning to speak, he didn’t say his first word until he was 3 ¼ 

-Even during his redemption arc, Acronix does not tell the Ninja about Krux's autism, from a built in fear that the knowledge would be used against him in possible future battles. (Also because he knows Krux wouldn't want them to know.) 

-Krux doesn't just hate phones because “ugh technology”, he also just hates talking on the phone because it’s super difficult

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OK there are way more that we have but... did you know there is actually a word limit on Tumblr? Heh heh... If you want more Twim goodness you can read our extensive fanfic collection... or maybe we’ll make a part two (That’ll probably consist of Home life pre-war stuff, post-canon AU junk, Vermillion family nonsense, and more random stuff)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In the Weeds

Ransom + ‘reader likes to garden and neighbor likes to watch’ as requested by @siren-kitten-his​

Finally got this done and it’s just smut, y’all, dark and dirty smut.

Warnings: noncon, sabotage, Ransom being his asshole self. As usual, your consumption is your responsibility. If you read these warnings and proceed, that’s your decision and any asks on the matter will be summarily defeated. If you can read 2000 words, you can read a warning.

Anyways, enjoy this little drabbling and have a great day, boo bears.

For weeks you’d been coming to the large house hidden away behind the winding driveway, trees carefully lined its borders. Weeks and you had yet to met its owner. On your first day, instructions had been left in a letter beside a bottle of water. The list was typed out and terse. A roster of duties.

Every Sunday you drove up the carefully laid mosaic drive and lugged your bag with you, returning to your beat-up truck only to fetch the electric trimmers. Weeds, pruning, hedges, flowers… It was your typical work, the only difference was your still anonymous and unseen employer.

The same water bottle sat on the front step, the same list. You didn’t need to read it at this point. You began your work, your jeans soon filthy with soil and grass stains as you made your way around the exterior of the house. Then there were the bushes along the perimeter. That always took much longer.

You opted for a break before you went about the last half of the list. You sat on the step and drank from the glass bottle. You replaced the attached cork and stood, stretching as the sun reached its peak above you.

“The sunflowers are starting to droop,” The voice scared you and you spun in surprise to face the man who stood on the other side of the screen door. You hadn’t even heard it open. “My mother chose them, you see? I find them tacky. They stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Oh,” You blinked. He watched you dully as you set down the glass bottle. “I could… re-home them. As long as I can dig out the roots.”

“Burn ‘em for all I care,” He scoffed. His blue eyes looked you up and down. “You’re a lot more diligent than the last gardener.”

“Thank… you,” You said awkwardly. 

He leaned his elbow against the door frame as he peered through the screen. His dark blond hair was combed back neatly, his broad shoulders stretched the cotton henley. He looked like any trust funder you’d met. “I should get back to work.”

“Mmhmm,” He nodded and disappeared.

You turned slowly and grabbed your bag of tools. You wanted to look back but didn’t as you crossed to the hedges along the walkway. You knelt and began your careful pruning. You inched down the bushes, snip, snip, snip. The sun beat down as you reached the end and stood.

“She stole,” You winced as you were once more frightened by the man. “Can’t help but wonder why considering how much I’m paying to have leaves cut.”

“I’m sorry she did that,” You squinted as the sun seared your eyes. “Um…”

“Ransom Drysdale,” He introduced himself. “I have your card. I know your name.”

“Well, I was just about to do the back. I just need to… um, get there.” You bent and tucked your shears into your bag and lifted it.

“Looks good, so far,” He said as he followed you from the other side of the hedge. “I can get you some more water.”

“I’m almost done,” You assured him. “But thank you.”

“Alright,” He stopped and you carried on. 

You felt him watched you as you disappeared around the back of the house. As you set up, you fought to focus on the work. The rose bushes were always the most obstinate. You took out your pruners and set to detaching the dying buds and stray branches.

As you moved from the white petals to the reds, you sensed something. You glanced over. The man, Ransom, was sat in one of the lawn chairs on the patio outside the tall glass doors. He was far but not so far away that you couldn’t tell he watched you. Well, if his last gardener had sticky fingers, how could you blame him?

You finished up and looked around one last time. You buckled up your large bag and slid the folded paper out of the side pocket, running down the list just to make sure. As you stood, bag slung over your shoulder, you found that your employer had gone as swiftly as he’d appeared.

You hauled it back around the house. The water bottle was gone. You went to your truck and dumped your bag in the bed. You climbed in the front and turned the engine. It kicked up but as you shifted into reverse, then puttered and died. You tried again. Odd. You’d just had it in for an oil change and they said it was in good shape.

You got out and walked around the pick-up. You checked out every inch then opened the hood. You didn’t really know what you were looking for. A shadow came up behind you and two large hands settled on the truck’s nose, a pair of thick arms blocking you in.

“Problem?” Ransom’s warm breath tickled your scalp. You went rigid, unsure of what to do. You didn’t know what to do.

 “No.” You said. “Probably just overheated.”

You pushed against his arm but he didn’t move. You grabbed the other which proved just as immovable. You turned around in the tight space between him and the truck.

“What are you doing?”

“Just having a look,” He said coolly. “You think it’s the battery?”

“I don’t know.” You tried to sidestep him again but he still wouldn’t move. “Let me go.”

“You know, at first, I watched you because I was bored. Then it became almost a hobby. Something to look forward to.” He leaned in and you could smell his cologne. “Then I thought about you. After. And you just kept popping up in my head.”

“I don’t know you.” You said firmly. “Get away from me so I can call a tow.”

“It’ll take them at least an hour to get out here.” He said. “What are you supposed to do while you wait?”

“Stop.” You grabbed his arm and pushed. He chuckled at your pathetic attempt to move him. “What do you want?”

“I’m sure you can guess.” 

He reached up and grabbed the lip of the hood. His other hand went to your throat as he backed up just a little and drew you with him. He closed the hood with a bang and you flinched. You grasped his wrist and twisted. He barely seemed to notice as his fingers tightened. 

He leaned in and his chiseled features turned malicious. He grabbed your shoulder and spun you to face the truck. He pushed you against the hood and you caught yourself on the hot metal. He crushed you with his body and his hot breath glossed over your head.

“I lied.” He nuzzled your head. “The last gardener quit. He hated the commute.”

“Get off.” You tried to elbow him and he grabbed the back of your head. He slammed it down onto the truck and held you there. “Ow, stop!”

“And on top of finding a new gardener, the bitch I called a girlfriend decided she needed to follow her dreams or whatever shallow shit those spoiled princesses believe these days.” He growled and pushed his crotch into your ass. “And then you show up. Sweet little flower girl. Hard worker… and for what? A beat up Ford and dirt under your nails.”

“Let me go!”

“You know I pay well to have the flowers watered, how much do you think I’d pay for… personal services?”

“You’re disgusting.” You hissed.

“Well,” He laughed. “I guess I don’t have to pay.”

He pulled on the back of your jeans as you wriggled against the hood, the metal seared your cheek. His arm snaked around you as he picked your fly open and pushed his hand down the front of your panties. You gasped as he kicked your feet apart and force his fingers between your legs.

“You like to get dirty, flower girl?” He muttered in your ear. “Hmm.” He rubbed his fingers along your folds. “I think that’s my answer.”

You closed your eyes. You were wet. Sweat, mostly, from the day in the sun, but more. Adrenaline, fear… He shoved a finger inside you and you squeaked. Your feet slipped on the stone work below.

“Please… stop,” You begged and he pushed another finger in.

“Weird how you don’t sound like you mean it,” He drew his fingers in and out as he pressed the heel of his hand to your clit. “How it feels…” He paused as you trembled. “Like you want it.”

“Ransom, Ransom…” You said his name. “Please. This isn’t--”

He filled you to his knuckles and you whimpered.

“Shhh,” He breathed. “This is a respectable neighbourhood… not that anyone can hear you.”

He slid his fingers out of you and left a slick trail along your pelvis as he pulled back. He ripped down your jeans from behind. His hand moved to your neck and he squeezed painfully. He wrenched your panties down and pinched your bare ass. You whined and kicked helplessly.

You pushed on the hood, trying to force him off. You only ended up with your ass pressed against him.

“Oh, I like that,” He stepped back and slapped your ass. “You really think you can win.”

“Please--”

He slapped you again. You swallowed your protests and he shifted behind you. The smooth whisper of a zipper followed and had you tensed against the truck. Your sweaty hands slipped over the metal.

He prodded you with his tip as he stepped closer. He bent his knees against your legs. He guided his dick along your cunt, poking around until he found your entrance. You inhaled sharply as he inched inside. Your walls clenched around him as he sank into. You were taken off your feet as he rammed into you entirely. You cried out and slapped the hood.

“Ow, stop, stop.” You exclaimed.

His hand left your neck as he grabbed your hips instead. He slammed you into the truck as he thrust into you harshly. You lifted your head as your back arched. Your toes fought to find traction on the ground as you whimpered and reached to try to pull yourself away from him. He easily rocked you back into him as he rutted into you.

Your nerves buzzed as he fucked you harder, the hem of his shirt brushed against your ass each time. You panted as the heat gathered along your spine and stormed through your core. You were so close and the thought repulsed you. Your disgust quickly flitted away as his grunts permeated the air around you.

Your eyes rolled back and you dropped your head back to the hood. You smothered your moans in your arm but your body betrayed you with a violent spasm. You came and he barely seemed to notice as he sped up. 

He bent over you and pushed your legs together. Your walls grew even snugger around him and he groaned. He swore as he twitched and pulled out of you suddenly. He tugged on your jeans as he climaxed in a series of primal snarls. He released you and his shoes scraped against the stonework. He sighed over the metallic zip and you found your feet below you.

You turned, slowly. You looked down at your jeans, rolled below your thighs. Your panties were shiny with his cum as you stared at them dumbly. Your legs shook as your stomach turned.

“Pull those up, flower girl,” Ransom sneered. “It’s not professional to walk around with your ass out.”

You lifted your head and blindly grasped the waist of your jeans. You pulled them up and the wet fabric pressed against your cunt. You buttoned your fly as you watched him reach into his pocket. He pulled out a metal part and winked.

“Pretty sure I can just screw this back into place.” He smirked. “Next Sunday, same time.” He passed you lifted the hood. “I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

[nsr-simp]

Green’s first fan letter

Green woke up from sleep-mode with his brothers, excited. It was evident with his bright green hue on his cheeks. He saw Red getting dressed up in his favorite outfit, a leather jacket with his snake cowboy boots and bootcut jeans.

“It’s vlog day, right?” Green asked eagerly. Red only chuckled at the youngest’s enthusiasm.

“Mmhmm, better dress up,” he reminded him. “Neon says to dress your best today, we’re getting mail.” Green became more giddy and went into his closet, pulling out his favorite sailor suit. After donning it and adjusting himself in the mirror, he looked at the hoop on his hair and made it presentable. Ideal boyfriend had to be the perfect boyfriend.

    He raced out onto the limo, everyone dressed up. Neon kept his fur jacket while Blue had a vest tuxedo, White wore his casual attire since he felt it suited him the best, and Yellow had a glimmering gold tuxedo, of course wanting to show it off since he just got it last week.

“I can’t wait!” Green plopped himself next to White. White gave an encouraging smile, others giving chuckles that faltered. 

    Usually, they would be excited for Green, but every Friday at the end of the month was when they opened fanmail. They got letters of love and admirations, boxes of candies and gifts, art, CDs, all gifts ranging from A to Z… except Green.

    Sure, he was still new to the band, but he’s been there long enough. The brothers thought for sure he would at LEAST get something… but he never did. And after every vlog, after a fake smile, Green would lock himself in his room and sulk. He never got any mail. Never admiration. 

    Sure, the siblings did their best; boasting about him in videos and even making their own letters to him, but he was too clever for them. Despite being the gullible and sweet one, he knew a fake letter when he saw one. He would thank them, but just put it in a drawer.

“Heh, we’re as excited as you!” White put an arm around his shoulders. Green beamed, White sharing the same expression. He was very well at hiding feelings, it was his best trait. It made him the leader since he could solve solutions rationally and he was looked up upon and put in charge when Neon was out.

“You think I’ll get something?” Green wondered.

“Of course! I bet that mailbox is FLOODING with mail for the most adorable bro we know…!” White chuckled, pinching Green’s cheek. He could only giggle as the limo rode off to the post office. Blue got his camera cleaned up, Green watching him. He was the usually the one who video tapes the videos with his cool and monotone attitude, that also being the best trait. They all had their best traits. Red was brave and would protect, Yellow was spontaneous and outgoing, and Green was adorable and sweet. 

    However, the one trait every other brother shared at that moment except Green was fear. What if Green didn’t get anything and once again, would snap? That was always their fear. Sure, he could be remade and have his memories back, but the thought of him breaking down to a boiling point was something no one wanted to see, on camera or anywhere else.

    An hour later, Neon brought a sack on board, Green’s hope clinging on. It was a huge bag!! Bigger than last month’s! Maybe this was it… this would be his first fan letter! He didn’t care if it was even from a five year old, he wanted something. 

    Neon handed out packages and envelopes while calling out the names.

“Red, Blue, Red, Red, White, Red, Yellow, Yellow, Yellow, Yellow, Yellow, White, White…”

    It felt like Christmas for Green! Waiting for his name to be said! Just to open his present! He watched the others open letters and read them to the filming camera and react to sweet treats and gifts. An hour past… and so has Green’s hope. It was the size of a grain of rice. He pointed his face away from the camera to hide his guilt. Why was he feeling guilty…? Was this… selfish of him…? To expect anything? Would he never receive anything?

“Thank you so much for these chocolates, Jennifer!!” White smiled into the camera. “Your appreciation and love is-”

    Green suddenly stood up, Blue looking at him. “... Green?”

“I need to go,” he quickly replied in a shaky voice. He sped walked off to his room, shutting the door and sitting on the bed. Neon watched him go and then the others. 

“... let’s… give him time,” Yellow replied. “We should maybe edit that part out…”

    Green curled up on his bed, muttering to himself.

“Be the ideal boyfriend… be the ideal boyfriend… be the ideal boyfriend… be the ideal boyfriend…” he sniffled in. He never really felt this way. “You’re being selfish… people don’t have to send you stuff… it’s okay… it’ll be okay…”

    He rubbed his face, shuddering out. He didn’t like this feeling… his motherboard felt so heavy…

“Let’s just finish up the letters… and I’ll talk to him,” Neon offered. They all nodded, Neon pulling out the next letter. “Gr-...”

    They all stared as Neon looked up, his expression, though hard to tell… was thrilled. “... Green.”

    The sound of his name made Green bolt out of his room, not caring that his hair was a mess. Not caring that his black oil tears stained his cheeks. Not caring he was halfway in his panda pajamas. He looked at Neon, who had a letter in his hand. Blue focused the camera to Green, never wanting to miss this moment. White spoke up, his happiness not being contained.

“You got a letter!!”

    Green hardly believed his ears. Neon offered it, Green shakily taking it and looking at it. A pink envelope with purple hand writing. It… was so beautiful. In stunning cursive. They all watched with wide smiles as Green sniffled, tears starting up again as he opened it and looked in it.

“... wellllll?” Yellow leaned in. “Read it outloud, silly!”

    Green snapped back into reality, gulping in and nodding.

“R-right! Um… it… it says…”

Dear Green,

I’m your BIGGEST fan in the world! I love 1010 as a group, but to me, you stand out…! Everything about you is wonderful to me and I look up to you. You’re kind. You’re sweet. You’re gentle. You’re my ideal boyfriend. I would’ve sent this earlier, but I was scared… I was afraid… guess a coward, but I finally did it…! I know a little letter isn’t much, but I know it’ll mean a lot to you, like you mean a lot to me.

You inspire me to do a lot. Seeing you dance and sing, although you’re nervous and get the jitters before the camera and the lights really shows how amazing you are! I’ve been doing more because you helped me. I’ve got my own song out and it’s based after you! When it comes out, I’ll send you the CD! Maybe I’m your only fan, maybe you have millions more, but know I’ll always be your biggest fan.

-Love Titi.

    Green stared at the letter, rereading it over and over and over, tears falling from his cheeks. White thought it was because he only got one letter, so… being the big brother he is, he stood up and went next to Green, wrapping one arm around him in a hug.

“Green…” he started.

“I… I got my first letter!!!!” Green squealed out. He jumped up and down, hugging the letter and laughing out his worries and stress, more tears falling onto the floor. Everyone shared a heartwarming smile as Green giggled and tittered more until he nearly shorted out. When he finished, he looked at the letter… then at the camera. “... thank you so much, Tit” he sniffled in. “This… is the most… most amazing thing I’ve ever read in my life!! Oh my gosh, I’m going to cry again! Haha!” He gasped and looked at the letter. “I’m going to go frame it!!!”

    With that, he ran off as the brothers all laughed happily, White looking into the camera.

“Well, that’s going to be all for Fan Mail Friday! Thank you all for your letters and gifts! Stay electrifying!”

    Tatiana finished watching the live stream, chuckling and giving a smile, pausing at Green’s happy, tear filled face.

“... you’re very welcome.”

[hoodoo12]

Shed

I saw this prompt: "As snakes' eyes cloud up prior to shedding, impeding their vision, a human girlfriend has to help her naga boyfriend get by with temporary blindness when he is about to shed his skin, despite his insistence that he can handle it on his own, she just doesn't want him to get hurt."

and although Naga AU isn't really my thing, I had to write this featuring Dewey.

SFW, NagaDewey/gen neutral reader. Care and comfort.

@monsterlovinghours @turtlepated @escape-your-grape @@beetlebitchywitch @realmonsterboyhours @memedemonhours @yankyo @mimiscappinisideblog @pastelnacht

Enjoy! `

“No, I’m fine!” Dewey was usually anything but peevish or surly. His snapped insistence when all you’d suggested is that you help him out of his shirt said more about how out of sorts he was. “Dewey, I just wanted to help--” A sound, made by vibration against the loose papers that had been flung off the desk onto the floor, was more warning than just his words. You sighed. “Dewey, you’re not a rattlesnake.” The noise from the tip of his tail stopped, and he looked sheepish for a moment. “Sorry, baby, I just get cranky . . .” “Cranky,” you agreed, “and scared.” That made his shoulders droop. For the past bit of time he’d been growing more irritable. And itchy. His scales, usually so iridescent and smooth, had become dull and scuffed. Even his skin looked patchy, like he was healing from a sunburn. He liked basking in the sun, but he never burned that you knew of. Some kind of built in UV protection, you’d figured, since he actively refused to get curtains for his place and deliberately put his bed where the morning sun hit it full on. Today, after a week of everything looking sickly and him being restless, you noticed the haziness to his typically bright eyes. Well, you noticed that after he’d managed to hit a doorframe going through it and then overcompensate the mistake by careening into the desk, spilling all the notes and sheet music there to the floor. Frantically, he’d tried to pick them up, but became distracted by his shirt, which led to some of the music being wrinkled in his hands as he twisted to try and relieve the itch of fabric against him. That he was ruining some of his student’s work put him in a worse state. You’d hurried in after hearing the crash and found Dewey in that agitated, frustrated state. When you’d offered to help get his shirt off him, he’d bitten your head off. Not literally, although he probably could if he was so inclined.

As overwrought as he was, however, he was still Dewey, and fighting wasn’t his thing. Because of that, unlike some other naga you’d been with who became much more volatile during a shed, you were comfortable enough to step close to him and gently take his arms. “Dewey, sweetie, I’m here for you. Please let me help.” He frowned, like he didn’t want to admit he would appreciate it or didn’t want to burden you or he was embarrassed his human partner saw him this way, but he did give you a hesitant nod. You smiled even though he couldn’t see it with the haziness over his eyes. Making sure to keep a hand on him, slipping your fingertips down the scales below his torso so he knew where you were, you hurriedly picked up the papers because you knew he’d be more upset if something else happened to them. They weren’t in any way organized, but that was for later. Straightening again and putting the pile on the desk, your hand then went to his chest. “Let’s get you out of this shirt.” If he’d been more himself he’d have blushed and made some dirty joke, but now he only nodded again. Carefully you lifted if off him, making sure not to catch any scales or skin that weren’t quite ready to come off easily. You eased it off his arms and then more gently over his head. Dropping it to the floor, you asked, “Would you like to go to the living room? The sun is hitting the bean bag right now. Or the bathroom, maybe? I can run you a bath if that’ll make things less itchy.” After the mess he’d made and his anger, Dewey just seemed tired. “The bath,” you decided for him. Guiding him through the place like he was blind--which essentially, he was--you filled the tub with warm water and added bath oils, not for the scent, but so they could help soften his old skin and make the shedding process easier. You helped him into the bath and smiled as he gave a sigh of relief as the water warmed him. Leaving him to grab some towels to mop up the water that had splashed onto the floor, you rushed back when Dewey, mildly panicked, called out for you. “I’m right here,” you reassured him, dropping the towels as you returned to his side. He was obviously more scared than he let on, not being able to see. Silently you wondered what he’d done before, when he’d been by himself during a shed, but the past didn’t matter now. You were here and were willing to make it easier for him if you could. Since the water soothed him, you offered to use a brush on him if that would help the process along. He declined, telling you that the new scales were soft and sensitive and a harsh brush would be too much. Instead, you massaged him, running your hands in long strokes down his body, occasionally finding a patch of loosened skin that you could carefully tease up and away from him. You took each piece you removed out of the water and set them on the floor in a damp pile that was similar to the papers you’d put on his desk. Dewey tensed and held his breath with each bit of skin you took off him. As much as it seemed to worry him, he seemed to like that it was gone. Occasionally his hand would run along your skin too, and you wondered if that was some ritual or mutual bonding between naga. When your fingers were wrinkled and the water had become tepid, you helped him out of the tub as well. Drying him off sloughed more of his skin, and you realized he was right about the scales underneath: they were soft and pliable, with a silky quality. It was difficult not to run your fingers over the new scales, but luckily, Dewey seemed to enjoy it, even laughing a little as it tickled. The worst were his brille. You wanted to help with that too, but it was delicate work. Dewey even asked you to stop touching him for a moment, so he could concentrate on removing them. You stood nervously by as he carefully picked at his eyes caps, starting with the right one. It was both fascinating and a little stomach turning to watch him peel the cloudy protective tissue from his eye. At one point it stuck on his eyelashes and he asked you to help separate them. You agreed

and were so careful it felt like you weren’t making any progress at all. Then, with a smooth release, it was off his eye and hanging by some of the skin at his temple. Gently you plucked it and the skin away from his face. Dewey’s brown eye was bright again. The second one went more quickly, and after it was gone, he scrubbed his face with a dry hand towel that ended up with flakes of skin through it. “I’ll do the laundry,” he told you. “No you won’t. I’m doing the laundry, and I’m cleaning the bathroom. You’re going to rest! Come on, let’s get you set up in the living room.” He opened his mouth as if to protest, but that prompted a yawn, so his argument was moot before he could say anything at all. You guided him back to the living room even though he could see now, and made sure he was comfortable curled up on the giant circular beanbag that he preferred to a regular couch before leaving him to collect the used towels, get the washer started, and wipe out the bathtub of any lingering scales. All the old skin you tossed into a waste bin. Dewey was dozing when you finally returned to the living room. He wasn’t completely shed out yet, you could still see big patches along his body down to his tail that needed to come off, but he did look more comfortable. Beside him, you stroked the newly exposed scales again. Even sleepy he reached for you, and although you were a little concerned you were going to hurt or damage his new skin, he pulled you down into his coils in a position you’d come to relax in. Leaning back in his arms, settling against his torso while the rest of him embraced you lightly, you took a page from his book and let the sun bake you.

fin!

[sleepylixie]

What are friends for?

College! Han Jisung X fem! Roommate reader

Imperium Universe || Jisung || Seungmin || Chan

1.5k words, Fluffy Fluff fluff,College!AU, Roommate!AU

Beware of: None other than teeth-rotting fluff and a teeny bit of swearing. Seungmin is chaotic evil incarnate but we been knew already 😂😂

A/N: the soft feels for Han Jisung hit hard 24/7, you guys. I MEAN LOOK ST THIS CUTIE BABIE I AM SIMPING. i have nothing more to say for myself. Please enjoy my offerings 🥺❤️❤️

Requests are open for SKZ and BTS! || Masterlist

//

Han Jisung wasn’t used to roommates. Him and his law major friend Seungmin had neglected to apply for on-campus housing until the last minute. A freak administrative error had the both of them assigned to a certain Y/N’s room and... safe to say, the two of them had had a bit of a surprise in store for them when they met you.  

It was disconcerting for Jisung at first- to see his first impression of your appearance as a possibly reserved, introverted character dissolve into chaos the second you opened your mouth. You were a force of nature dressed in pastel skirts, a lavender-scented hurricane that had no control over her tongue or hair. You smiled like a fox- sweet and unassuming on the surface, but sharp-witted and deceptive underneath.

Jisung knew instantly that Seungmin would click with your personality. The both of you were freakishly similar, with your innocent appearance melting into sheer devilry whenever the two of you wished so. Of course, he was right.  Seungmin took to you with great interest-the two of you clicked like kindred souls, or possibly reunited twins who were separated at birth. Jisung, on the other hand... 

He was intimidated by you, and that made it slightly difficult for him to settle down around you. While you never treated him with anything beyond familiarity and the niceties of acquaintances, he could never allow himself the same sense of familiarity that Seungmin allowed himself with you. 

He wished so dearly that he could behave otherwise, for he would be lying if he said he hadn’t found you just a little attractive (just a smidgen) from the second he met you. Jisung wanted to be close to you, gain your trust and friendship, but for some reason(him scared of looking like an idiot and possibly having you judge him for the rest of his life) he could never bring himself to do it.

//

The three of you had been living together for a good year and a half, well into your third semester and you’d all figured out how to live with each other. For example, Seungmin would only cook if there was DAY6 music playing in the kitchen. The way you entered the house was a clear indication of your mood that day- and today, it was a loud, resounding slam followed by strings of cursing.

“This is a fucking scam. This entire university is a cesspool of money mongering bastards and greedy professors who don’t deserve a shred of anybody’s fucking respect-

“Woah, slow down there, tiger, what’s got your tail on fire?” Jisung asked you, jumping upright from where he was lounging on the couch. Your eyes flashed with annoyance as you threw yourself onto the side of the couch Jisung had just vacated.

He couldn’t help but let his eyes rove your body as unnoticeably as he could manage. Your hair looked windswept from your walk back to the apartment, one of the guys’ hoodies and jeans covering your frame. How you could look so devastatingly adorable despite having steam pouring out of your ears was absolutely beyond him.

“What happened, is my fucking creative lit professor refused to grade me up for the mid-term assignment, even though I know my piece was one of the best.” You were fuming, stark raving mad, literally one second away from shooting sparks out of your ears as your hands twisted together on your lap.

“He told me that if I worked harder at trying to become a better writer, I wouldn’t have to be begging for a better grade. AND HE SAID THAT I SHOULD TRY NEW METHODS OF BEGGING IF I WANTED IT THAT BADLY.”

Jisung’s eyes narrowed as he took in the words that were spewing out of your mouth. “Did he really-” “YES HE DID I CAN’T WITH THIS UNIVERSITY-” You burst out, letting an angry yell punctuate your sentence. 

“Do you want to go to the Dean? I’m sure they’ll be able to do something about it.” 

At that, you smiled at Jisung, the same foxy smile that had him shrinking a little into himself every time he saw it- it was a thing of rather savage beauty, very out-of-place on a face as endearing as yours.

“Not really, I handled it myself.”

Jisung stared at you, his internal discomposure melting into curiosity. “What the fuck did you do Y/N, I swear if you got one of the varsity jocks to beat him up or something-”

“I’m glad you think I’m capable of that, honestly.” You giggled, anger temporarily forgotten, swatting at Jisung’s thigh. Were those butterflies in his stomach? Gods, he would eat a knife if it got them to stop fluttering-

//

“She had the Dean on call when she spoke to that sleazeball of a professor,” Jisung exclaimed, amidst assorted gasps and cheers from his audience, laughing a little himself as he sipped his beer. “guess who got a new creative lit professor and full marks for the assignment.��

You laughed as everybody around you let out peals of laughter, thumping you on the back in appreciation.

Your roommates had a gang of 6 other boisterous boys from all over the campus, united by a string of unsavory events and narrowly avoided expulsion. You should probably be concerned, sure, but the vibe the 8 of them had with each other was way too nice for you to not be roped in; now you were part of all their weekly parties at Chris and Hyunjin’s frat house. 

You were situated on the armrests of one of the couches in said frat house, red cup supplied with your kind of poison- Whiskey and soda. All of the boys were gathered around the common room, laughing and talking amongst each other when Jisung took it upon himself to recount the story of your creative lit professor’s unfortunate dismissal. 

It was a rather embarrassing pastime of yours, to watch Han Jisung. He was a strange one, alright. Out in the world, he was a loud, boisterous guy with a penchant for words, knowing exactly what to say at any point of time. It earned him his reputation of being a cheeky mood maker in any setting, the kind of guy who had friends all over the campus and beyond. 

In truth, however, the Han Jisung you came to know was reserved, a little more hesitant with his words, the kind who’d allow his friends to speak up for him unless he absolutely had to. He wasn’t a pushover by any means, no. He was just a little more picky with his words when they were meant for the people he was comfortable with.

For some reason, it warmed your heart when he behaved that way around you too- it felt like he’d accepted you into his inner circle. For some reason, your heart honest to god skips a beat when he smiles, this fucking adorable smile every time you and Seungmin tease him around at the apartment because fuck, he doesn’t always smile like that, does he? For some reason, you end up noticing his eyes when he smiled like that, the way his cheeks lifted up in this devastating manner, the way he’d laugh out loud with his whole body, so at odds with his reserved personality-

Yeah, no you definitely had a thing for him. You thought you were being glaringly obvious with it too, with the unabashed way you’d notice and steal glances at him every time he walked into the room. 

Not that you’d ever tell him any of this though, you were fairly sure you’d sent him an impression of mild intimidation with your rather...loud personality.

It was probably for the best if you admired Han Jisung from afar, hoping that your fancy for him doesn’t take the reins on your behavior.

Jisung might not have noticed, but another certain somebody definitely did. Somebody who’s brain was already thinking, well-oiled cogs being put to use.

\\

“Jisung, you should probably know that Y/N has a thing for you,”

“Seungmin what the fu-” you spluttered, neck already burning. This was not fucking happening.

“Is this what the roommate convention was for, you sneaky lil rat?” you exclaimed, doing everything you could to not lock eyes with the third roommate who was seated on your bed with the other two of you, now gawking between you and Seungmin with a rose blush scattered across his nose. 

Seungmin, to his credit, wasn’t fazed for a single second by the way the energy in the room changed, choosing to smile devilishly before continuing with his next sentence. 

“Y/N, you should probably know that Jisung has a thing for you too,”

What the fiddlesticks-

“And now, for my final trick, I shall excuse myself from this room. Roommate convention adjourned.”

Seungmin walked out of your room with a literal skip in his step. You would deal with your snake of a best friend after you were done with.. oh.

Your eyes finally met Jisung’s- warm amber eyes still looking at with a mixture of curiosity, surprise and affection that just knocked the words out of you. “Was Seungmin pranking me again?” He asked quietly, a hint of a smile playing across his lips. You sighed, trying to expel the nervousness. What the hell, might as well say the truth. 

“Not really,” the back of you neck felt like literal lava at this point- “I do like you.”

You were going to kill Seungmin.

“Good to know,” Jisung sighed in relief, his fingers twisting together on his lap. “Because uh.. He wasn’t pranking you either.” The next words seemed to take effort for him to get out, because his blush spread from his nose to his cheeks. “I like you too.”

You were going to thank Seungmin.

And then you were going to toss him into a dark room with Lee Minho and his boxing gloves, but that’s for later.