#which is why I wanted to talk to him so I’m gonna send that email now bc I am SO good at this

[exopelagic]

I have to email potential supervisor like now and it’s terrifying how are you meant to decide what you want to do

[gyllenhaalstuff]

nah cuz mean david loki is hella hot but then when he’s in you he completely melts and whines like a bitch

I’m gonna rip my hair out.

Bother

- Detective Loki

This gif makes me cum sorry

Summary: Seeing you talk back to him, David gets more bothered than he should, in ways he definitely shouldn’t.

Warnings: arguing, degradation, groping, semi public sex, mirror sex, change of dynamics, David is pathetic, piv sex, unprotected sex.

Word count: 1379

Notes: Hey, so this is ass. I still wanted to give this a try even though I’m not very good at writing mean characters. Hope you find it alright still xx :)

══════════════════

If there was one thing David liked, it was being in control. Or at least feeling like he was. However, this didn’t mean that he never lost it.

Working for him entailed being bossed around a lot. There was never a moment to catch your breath, but continuous tasks, one after the other, for 8 hours straight. File this paper, call that department, email the forensics, go through the CCTV footage, copy this transcript. Through all of this, David remained stoic and stern, even though his wandering eyes told another story.

This way of work didn’t usually bother you; in fact, it was nice not being bored. But on bad days, God, you wanted to rip David’s head off. And if he got frustrated enough, his clothes too. On this particular day, you couldn’t make yourself do anything but stare at the wall and linger by the coffee machine. It got on David’s nerves; it was obvious by the way his forehead vein showed with the clenching of his jaw. With his work ethic, he couldn’t wrap his head around your slacking. He also couldn’t wrap his head around why this made him want to push you up against the wall instead of slamming your head into it. The latter bothered him the most.

“You didn’t send out that email,” he pointed out when you came back from the coffee machine, again, cup in hand. “Sorry, I’ll get to it. Just tired today,” you excused yourself; he didn’t seem to care. You weren’t weak, but getting told off felt horrible, so you complied. “We’re all tired today,” he mumbled back as if to say, ‘I don’t care if you’re tired. Do your job.’

You sat back down in the uncomfortable office chair, put your coffee on the desk, and opened your computer back up. Dear Pavlikovsky,. Regarding the skin cells collected from the steering wheel in the Finch case… You could finally think of words and actually put them into text. But life wasn’t going to be that easy, so to even it out, your elbow knocked your coffee cup over, spilling its contents across your desk before you were able to catch it. “Jesus Christ,” David sighed, “Can you do anything?” Like you needed to hear that, like you weren’t already pissed off at yourself and him. “I’m trying here!” you said back, accidentally raising your voice at him. He didn’t like that, not at all. “Yeah? Well, you should try harder,” he countered, matching your volume.

This was your final straw. You got up and left the room, making a straight line for the restrooms. Fuck this job, fuck David, and fuck Pavlikovsky. You pushed the door open and stepped into the tiled room. All the stalls were empty this time of day, thank God. You turned on the sink before splashing your face with water, drying it, and sighing. You closed your eyes for a few seconds, trying to collect yourself. 1, 2, 3, 4… But then the door opened, which was weird since you were the only woman left.

“Hey, no need to barge out like that.” Sigh. His voice was lower, but neither kinder nor calmer. “Why not?” You looked at him through the mirror, and for once he didn’t look like a dictator waiting to point fingers. “Because I like to be respected,” he explained while stepping forward, standing a foot behind you. He looked down on you in the reflection, with his arms crossed and eyes blinking compulsively from frustration. “Why should I respect you if you don’t even like me?” Maybe you should have kept quiet, but it was time to rip off the band-aid anyway. He snickered at this, at you. “I don’t dislike you.” David felt himself abandoning his morals as he took a step forward, pressing his crotch against you. “But I can’t stand you constantly disrupting me.”

Why he did this, he had no idea. Or he knew why he wanted to; he just didn’t understand how he could have. But as you had abandoned your tasks and disrespected his orders, his mind had gone elsewhere while his blood rushed to his groin. Control was slipping away.

It took a second for you to register what was happening, widening your eyes once you realized that your laziness wasn’t going to be punished but rewarded. You weren’t complaining about the change of events, not at all. In fact, this might get you back on track. Seeing this authoritative man fighting to keep his composure had arousal swirling in your stomach. His nostrils flared as his breathing deepened, seeing his crotch pressed up against you.

“I won’t stop you,” you admitted even though you still had some anger lingering. David looked relieved for a moment, a rare sighting. He placed one of his hands on your ass, making you lean your upper body against the sink and press back up against his erection. “Do you always slut yourself out like this?” he asked you, but didn’t back off. Instead, He pulled your pants down and squeezed the exposed skin.

Even though you had a hard time understanding his thought process, you didn’t question him. Especially when you saw him undo his pants in the reflection. You weren’t going to ruin this. You backed up against him once again. He hummed quietly through gritted teeth, still trying to maintain control.

“You did this,” he pointed out; it almost sounded like a threat, before pulling your panties down. The sight stirred him up, made him twitch in his boxers. He ran a finger through your folds, scoffing at your wetness, making you blush with embarrassment. He pulled his cock out, stroking it a few times before lining himself up. His breath grew shaky when your wetness warmed his tip; his eyelids even fluttered. He was slipping out of it.

He pushed in and whimpered like a bitch as your warmth hugged him. You couldn’t help but grin to yourself. You weren’t the slut here; he was. Getting riled up seeing you pissed off and then following you to the bathroom, hoping he would be granted some relief, that's pathetic.

He was moving inside of you slowly, too slowly. Realizing how weak he was made you take the wheel. So you pushed yourself onto his cock, without warning or concern. His nails dug into your hips as he whined at your sudden move. His mind kept telling him to keep his focus, to not lose himself. But he did. He was expecting to fuck you, not to be fucked. His plan had crumbled.

His hips made weak thrusts as you fucked yourself on him, mindlessly moving. The view in the mirror made your stamina feel infinite. His furrowed brows and slack jaw. And the cries spilling from his mouth were like a drug, making everything electric and your brain fuzzy. David thought he was going to melt into a puddle; he hadn’t had sex in so long he had forgotten how fucking good it could be.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” he mewled and gripped your skin tighter, forgetting how strong he was even when he was being pathetic. His hands would come to leave purple bruises on your hips. “You’re a weird fucking guy, David.” You scoffed as you tried to keep your tone strict amidst your struggling breaths. To your surprise, David’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment at your words. Regret built in him, which for some reason made his arousal do the same, making him feel even more ashamed. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled in his strained, high-pitched, whiny voice.

You upped your pace, making him fully moan. His noises bounced off the cold tile, echoing through the room. His hair was a mess; strands were falling down over his face. You almost felt proud, betting very few people ever got to see David like this.

He came with a loud whine; it almost sounded more like a sob. The fact that you had your superior cumming inside of you was a rush. You backed away from him, pulling off of his cock. “So this is why I bother you,” you turned around and huffed, “Just let me know next time you're horny so I don’t have to make a scene.”

[scentofhydrangea]

reverting back to my frat president luigi and frat sweetheart reader thoughts today, oh god😅😅

warnings cheating (from both parties), SMUT, luigi is mouthy, AND AN ASSHOLE, reader is kinda mean, praise, luigi is the pussy eating king™️!, only going as far as fingering + head cuz he and reader are a little drunk…

a/n initially started to distract myself from today but then got carried away and kept going :) i was listening to draco by future when i got inspo for this! you aint neva eva gettin yo bitch back 😋 not 100% lore accurate obviously

with one week before spring break, students at upenn are on a collective bender — barhopping, each frat taking turns hosting parties, and professors sending angry emails to the dean of students. tonight, phi psi was in charge of hosting.

you and the other phi psi sweethearts, emilia and halley, were up and at the house by noon to start preparing! with some light conversation, boys started to make their way downstairs for afternoon classes or brunch. you three had already told them you weren’t cooking this week, so they can fend for themselves!

as the night approached, you had made around 200 jello shots and rounded up various types of cheap beer for the night. halley and emilia went to their own dorms to get ready; you stayed at the house to do your hair and makeup there.

brothers started making their way back to the house with takeout and more alcohol, some of the more helpful brothers bought decorations. one person you hadn’t seen at all that day was luigi — which didn’t shock you at all. he had gotten into a nasty fight with his girlfriend at sigma chi’s party last night, and you heard all about it from his best friend patrick earlier today.

“yeah, i mean he was trying to get her to go home without him and she knew what that meant. he got really mad at her and was telling her that she’s not his mom and that he’s a, and i quote, ‘grown ass man’ who can ‘do what he wants’. she was so fucking mad. she left him there anyway so i don’t really see why they argued,” he recounted with all the right gestures and mannerisms luigi would use.

he surely had to make some kind of appearance tonight, though, he was the president of the frat. the pledge master had already been bothering him today and by the time you came out of the bathroom from getting yourself ready he was the talk of the house.

“yo, where’s luigi?” brendan called out to you when you walked through the living room to sort through the bag of decorations that others had brought.

you shrugged and wrinkled your face up. “i know as much as you do,” you lie. you know he’s in his room.

“you guys are kinda,” he raises his right hand to show crossed fingers, “like, tight?”

you scoffed vehemently. “he wishes.”

three or four brothers set up the big standing speakers around corners of the house. people weren’t going to start showing up until around 10-11pm, so you have about an hour before girls trickle in.

your boyfriend was pissed that you were required to attend this, although it confused you since you had been to other parties this week. a feisty text notification buzzes in your pocket:

Don’t call me later tonight and ask me for a ride to your apartment. I’m not attempting to get through the storm of sweaty tech assholes to pull you out of that slut house.

Go ahead and make plans to stay somewhere else.

scoffing again, your thumbs fired across the keyboard.

i wasn’t going to ask you to, i’m gonna crash at halley’s. i already told you that

have fun alone tonight miss you love you

you end the short string of texts peacefully, though you really didn’t feel like being nice and pleasing him with a ‘love you’. the phone falls back into your jean miniskirt pocket and within minutes, your boyfriend is completely off your mind.

it’s a little silly that you’re still together even if he’s mean to you and so easy for you to forget about. you think about breaking up with him a lot, but you don’t want to have to embarrass yourself by telling people that you put up with it. you hope he just breaks up with you instead.

as you added finishing touches to the downstairs, familiar large footsteps thump down the steps. various ‘ayyyyy’’s and ‘there he is!’’s erupt from a crowd of fifteen or so boys clapping. you turn your head to see luigi, wearing an unzipped pullover on top of a white golf polo — he doesn’t even golf! — and khakis. he’s not one for fashion.

he says hello and apologizes for his disappearance, then makes his way into the kitchen, devouring a chipotle bowl that someone got and saved for him. luigi saunters back up the steps and goes into his room with a not-so-gentle closing of the door.

that tells you all you need to know — he’s moody and likely will be for the rest of the night.

an hour or two later, you manage to see him again! he’s drinking and talking to a few girls with two brothers around him. bodies are packed tightly in here; phi psi is known for the second-best parties in all of upenn greek life. his girlfriend was apparently denied at the door. you thought it was bold she even decided to show up.

as you’re having a drink and chatting with your friend, you smell the prominent cologne envelope your senses. you know that scent anywhere. you whip your head around and meet luigi’s gaze, and he must have been trying to speak into your ear over the bumping music because he’s leaned down, only a few inches from your face.

he seems shocked for a second, like a deer in headlights, like a toddler getting caught with the candy jar. luigi scans around your face as well, mentally noticing that the dark pink lipgloss you were wearing earlier was fading.

“where’s your boyfriend?” he asks, speaking loudly through the music.

“where’s your girlfriend?” you tease back with an easy smile.

he looks around, hesitating before speaking. “i don’t really wanna talk about her. i’m guessing you heard what happened last night?”

“everyone’s talking about it, gi,” you turn around, initially to introduce your friend to him, but your friend is gone. she’s teetered away across the room, talking to another brother. you turn back to luigi.

“what are you drinking?” he asks, looking down at your cup as if you didn’t know what he was talking about.

“i don’t know. my friend fixed it for me. whoever bought liquor is my new best friend,” you joke, placing your hand on his bicep.

oh god. he really is as buff as he looks.

“i may or may not have sent out an order for real liquor,” luigi chuckles with a faux sheepishness. “i can’t stand all the warm beer sometimes. shots just get the job done, and some people like cocktails.”

“have you ever had jungle juice?”

a confused look takes over his previously calm expression. “is that some sort of fruity concoction that’ll put you in the hospital?”

“you’re overestimating my tolerance entirely,” you giggle. “if you make it right, it’s not bad.”

“that still doesn’t tell me what it is,” he speaks before you can get another sentence out.

“probably because i wasn’t done talking!” you fake scold. “it’s like orange juice and pineapple juice and hawaiian punch with everclear or vodka. you just have to be careful with it. it’s kinda famous for being roofied, but i’ve never been roofied and i used to drink it at frat parties.”

“why would i want to drink something that’s famous for being roofied?”

“it’s just a thing! i don’t know!”

you both chuckle and a song that you both like comes on. almost instantaneously, you both start singing loudly and off key right in each others faces. warmth spreads through your body and you’re sure it’s the alcohol, but his smile is just so wholesome and the way the only lights are from laser projectors and an led light strip on the ceiling just makes him look so different in some weird way.

you keep singing and dancing with him, both of your bodies getting sweaty and migrating closer and closer. soon, you’re chest to chest, and you already know that if you come back to the house tomorrow you’re going to be tortured by the rest of the brothers. by now it really doesn’t matter, you’re having a good time with the president of the frat!

“you’re beautiful,” luigi says just loudly enough for you to hear.

your heart sinks. “what?”

“you’re beautiful, [___]. i mean it.”

“you know i have a boyfriend,” you correct him.

“yeah, and i have a girlfriend. she’s a bitch, and your boyfriend is a fucking dick.”

you’re silent for a moment. “he’s just protec-”

“don’t fucking defend him, [___], he doesn’t deserve your attention and support. if you don’t like him, break up with him.”

“you’re so drunk, gi.”

“only a little,” he shrugs, his hand finding your waist again and roughly pressing his lips to yours.

you can’t even pull away, you just feel paralyzed. then your lips start to move against his and before you know it you’re nearly tongue kissing. you feel your panties dampen with need almost immediately. he whines deeply onto your lips and you pull away to breathe.

“people are going to notice,” you look around hastily.

“do you wanna go to the main floor?” he asks, knowing that his reputation as well as yours can be tarnished by a too big of a slip up.

you nod and he grabs your hand, leading you through the crowd as if you’re a frat virgin. he grunts a few rude “move”s and “‘scuse me”s. by the time he’s trudging up the steps with you, your heart starts to thump in your chest. you’re not going to the main floor, you’re going to his bedroom.

back up in luigi’s room, you’re realizing how drunk you are by the way there are no moving lasers to make you feel steady. you’re swaying a little and fall down onto his bed. you’ve been in this bedroom so many times, but it feels different being in here now.

he sits down next to you after locking the doors and windows — roof walkers are strangely common here. his lips smash against yours again, this time overpowering you with wet kisses. one of his hands is on the back of your head and the other is on your cheek, gingerly pulling you in.

“you smell so good,” he whispers, trailing his kisses down your neck and onto your collarbones. he inhales your perfume on your collarbones and nibbles at the soft skin of your upper chest, leaving little purplish-red marks to blossom. luigi works his way down and looks up at you to ask for consent with his eyes.

you nod approvingly, not knowing what you’re approving, just that you want him. he pushes your halter top up a bit, looking at you again for approval, and continues to pull your shirt off with your nod.

luigi’s mouth immediately attaches to your peaked nipple, swirling around it and suckling at the skin around your breasts to leave hickeys.

“not like your boyfriend’s gonna see. i know your sex life isn’t the best.”

you look at him, confused on how he’d know. you were friends, but you’ve never mentioned anything of the sort.

“girls don’t hang out with frat brothers that they aren’t dating every weekend if they have a happy sex life,” he states matter-of-factly, and it pisses you off in a way.

“she must not suck you off very well, then,” you retaliate.

“she doesn’t,” he shuts down your attempt at getting him back. “you just look like you could suck a dent out of a car door.”

“excuse you,” you roll your eyes, getting turned on by how he’s being mean. arousal and wetness seems to snap loose, rushing to your heat. you squirm in place and he notices.

“are you getting wet? poor girl,” he pulls you over onto his thigh by your waist with no strain, his biceps flexing. the only thing you can think of is getting put into a headlock. as soon as your bikini underwear meet his khaki pants, you’re pathetically grinding against his buff thigh.

“s’at feel good, hm? feels good to use my thigh?”

“mhm,” you whine, lying your forehead onto his shoulder.

“you wanna take your skirt off for me, baby?”

nodding, you pause for a moment to shimmy out of the jean miniskirt. as soon as you toss it onto the floor where your shirt lays crumpled to the ground, you go right back to riding his thigh.

the tent in his pants looks huge when you glance down, and you whine again. “lu…”

“hm? y’okay?”

“wanna fuck you..”

“oh, sweet girl,” he mutters, flipping you around and lying you down properly. he places his head at your thighs and gently kisses them. luigi looks to you for approval again, and with your impatient nod he pulls your underwear to the side, delving his tongue into your wet folds.

your hands knead his scalp with a gasp, almost like you’re guiding him through what he should be doing. “fuck, gigi, that’s so good!”

he lifts your thighs onto his shoulders, allowing his tongue to work through your folds with a rough gentleness. “you taste so good, sweetheart,” he huffs.

one of your hands releases from his hair and grips onto the bedsheets, pulling onto them for dear life as he relentlessly eats your pussy like a starved man. you’re quickly orgasming, gasping out his name like a prayer.

he doesn’t stop to let you catch your breath, though, he just keeps going.

“lu, stop, s’too good…”

“i bet he doesn’t eat you out like this, does he? does he know what he’s missing out on? hmm?” he replaces his tongue this time with his middle finger, sliding it up and down your folds to gather his own spit before plunging into your warm, soaked cunt.

he then adds another before attaching his wet lips to your clit, making out with your pussy like a long distance relationship reunion. “shit, luigi, i’m gonna cum again! j’st like that, yes!” you moan pornographically, grinding your clit down onto his mouth fervently.

“you’re so tight, pretty girl, squeezin’ my fingers so good. can he fuck you like this with just his fingers?” he prompts again with a hateful tone, getting angry at the thought that another guy can’t make you cum — it’s not like it’s even hard for luigi to get you to cum.

you shake your head. “no, he can’t. he barely ever fingers me — fuck!” you admit before he hits that spongy spot with his fingers, and immediately his assault on your cunt becomes absolutely relentless.

“just like that, please! fuck, oh my god, you’re the best!” you plead to him, feeling that cocky smirk against your clit.

“yeah? you’re so much better than her. fuck, i love this pussy.” he grumbles, shaking his head so his nose brushes against your clit over and over.

your hand grips at his scalp again, pulling his big nose to your clit harshly. “i’m gonna fucking cum, lu, you’re so good…” you trail off breathlessly, thighs beginning to shake.

“you got it, baby girl. go ahead and cum on my face. you deserve that, yeah? go ahead n’cum,” he instructs, fucking his clothed bulge into the mattress below him.

you follow his order with a loud yelp followed by a high pitched, drawn out moan and bucking your hips to his face. he groans deeply as you clamp onto his fingers, legs shaking violently against his head and thighs squeezing together to almost suffocate him in your pussy.

as you come down from the high, you’re embarrassed that he made you cum so easily. you look at him and realize once he sits back up to catch his breath that he came into his own pants.

he lays his head down onto your naked chest, comfortable in the domestic position. he can still smell your pretty perfume on your neck. after five or so minutes of cooling down and catching your breath, he looks at you softly — some kind of way you haven’t seen on him.

“what do you say we get you cleaned up, hm? you can stay right here in this bed with me if you don’t wanna go home after.”

you nod your head with a gentle smile. “yes, please!”

[gumified]

satoru being a desperate mess for you

content: dom!reader, sub!satoru, modern au, orgasm denial, praise, satoru being a cutie <3

note: tumblr still not letting me post images TT hopefully they reply to my email, pray for me !!!

//

if any one of satoru's friends could see him right now they definitely wouldn’t recognise the whining boy that’s begging to cum. according to the things that satoru gojo tells his popular jock friends, he's the dominant one in bed and you're always a moaning mess under him. emphasis on the under him. 

only a few know that satoru gojo is a submissive whimpering bundle of nerves when he's met with you. sure, he's the popular guy at university and everyone knows what's up with him but put his girlfriend in front of him and he instantly melts. you are the only thing that makes satoru turn into a stuttering boy begging for his release. and that is exactly what he is right now.

"y/n…" he whines, hands struggling against the handcuffs that bind him. you're smirking as you sit in his cock, slowly dragging your hips up and down. you've been edging him on and denying him of his orgasm for so long that he thinks he's about to go crazy. "y-y/n! fuck!"

the rhythmic slapping of skin on skin has your skin crawling with lust as you listen to the lewd sounds. satoru continues to beg and struggle. he's panting, and you drag your fingers up his chest, drawing small circles that make him shiver. his thighs quiver as you ride him, cock throbbing inside of you. he moans, throwing his head back and bucking his hips to create more friction. the handcuffs restrict him from touching your body and he just wants to feel you, wants to touch your soft skin.

"aren't you just adorable?" you coo, noticing the way his cheeks flush pink and his mouth hangs open slightly. "my pretty boy."

there's something that sparks inside you whenever you hear your boyfriend lose control and plead for you. it makes you see nothing but him. you continue to slide down on his cock, occasionally grinding your hips on his which makes satoru groan. it hurts so bad and he wants to cum. he wants to cum so bad. 

"heard your friends talking about how good you fuck me." he tenses beneath you. "baby, you didn't tell them that i'm the one doing the fucking? that you're the one that turns into a sobbing mess?" satoru gulps and shakes his head nervously. he doesn't know how you'll react and he hopes you don't do what he thinks you're going to do. a wicked grin twitches at your lips and you stop your movements which causes him to let out a desperate whimper. you give him a pout. "that's bad toru. you're not a bad boy are you?"

"n-no…"

you smirk, walls clenching around his cock as you reach over to unlock him from his handcuffs. "why don't you show me how good you are?" 

satoru's eyes widen with shock but you see the underlying desire. he looks at you, bringing his bottom lip in between his teeth. you’re so pretty and he can’t help but stare at your body, taking in every curve in front of him. his hands grip your waist, rocking you back and forth, slowly at first, before speeding up a tiny bit. you moan his name, showering him with praises. it feels so good, the warmth in his hands spreading across your body and the way his cock slides in and out of you makes you keen with pleasure. 

"shit!" he groans. "i-i…i’m so close, so so close, hnghh, y/n i’m gonna - a-ah!" 

he's at a loss for words as he babbles desperately, hands still on your waist as he guides you up and down. you grin cockily and lean in to give him a kiss, one that starts soft but quickly deepens, throwing him into an intense frenzy. your lips move against his with a passionate rhythm, tongues tangling, and the heat between you escalating. the sight of him losing control, eyes closed, breath hitching, and hands gripping you tighter, sends a thrill through your body.

"baby you're doing so well." you moan, pulling him closer to your body. another whimper escapes satoru's throat and this time it's strangled and he's desperate to cum. you feel his huge cock throb and twitch inside of you and you know he's close. you speed up your movements and allow him to moan and unwind in front of you. 

"y-y/n please let me cum, p-please!" he begs, a sob wracking his throat. his hands clutch at you with a frantic urgency, his entire body shaking with the intensity of his need.

you trace kisses up the column of his neck, whispering the words you knew he would hate to hear. "no."

[marie-swriting]

Waste Of Time - Jake "Hangman" Seresin [1/2]

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

Emails I Can't Send Masterlist

Part two

Part one - two (French version)

Summary : You can't stop reminiscing your relationship with Jake despite your break up.

Warnings : angst, sad ending, Jake being a dick, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 1.9k

Song inspiration : Things I Wish You Said by Sabrina Carpenter

Sitting on your bed, you’re holding your phone in front of you with Jake’s contact picture on the screen. You’re so excited to talk to him again that you have a big smile on your face. You’re currently on deployment so you haven’t been able to communicate properly with your boyfriend for the past few days. 

After a few seconds, Jake’s face appears and you see he’s sitting on his couch.

“Hey, I’m sorry for not calling earlier, it’s crazy out here.” you apologise.

“Don’t worry, I totally get how complicated it can be to call.”

“Anyway, what’s up?”

“Not much, it’s pretty calm.” Jake says before avoiding your gaze. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“I… Look,” he nervously starts and you stand up, fearing what’s about to come next, “I don’t know how to tell you this so I’m just gonna rip the bandage off; we should break up.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“It’s not you, I swear, it’s me.”

“What kind of bullshit is this?” you say, angry and confused. “Everything is fine between us. I don’t understand why you want to break up. Did I do something?”

“No, like I said, it’s not you. I just want to focus on my career and-”

“And what? I’m some kind of distraction? You can’t be in a relationship and work like a big boy?” you retort, annoyed.

“You’re mad and I understand it but it’s for the better.” Jake calmly replies which makes you even angrier.

“Clearly.”

“Y/N, you’re a good person, I don’t want you to doubt it for one second.”

Jake’s sentence should bring you some kind of comfort and yet, it just makes you turn on him even more. You don’t even look at your phone anymore, a million emotions going through your head. You don’t know if you’re more devastated or mad. Understanding it’s of no use to insist, Jake sighs before talking one last time:

“I’m gonna leave you alone now.”

You glance at your phone again, waiting for Jake to say something else and yet, nothing comes. Jake doesn’t even add a “I’m sorry” before hanging up, leaving you in your bedroom alone and in a heavy silence. You keep your eyes on your phone, still in shock by what just happened. You can’t grasp it. 

You met Jake four months ago and everything happened so quickly, but you both didn’t mind it. Some people tried to warn you by telling you about his reputation with women, nevertheless you ignored them. You and Jake clicked instantly and that’s what mattered. And also, you’re not going to lie, he knew how to get you hooked in one conversation. You felt like it was the same for him, that Jake was as attached to you as you were to him, now, you have some doubts. What bothers you the most is that your relationship was becoming more serious - until now. You were seeing each other whenever you could, you even talked about owning a house together. You had begun to imagine a future together and with just one phone call, Jake threw it all away.

That night, you don’t shed a tear. You tell yourself you made this phone call up. Though, the next morning, once you wake up without Jake’s usual morning text wishing you a good day, you realise it was, indeed, real and you break down the second you come home from work. Never had your heart known such heartbreak, it didn't see it coming.

Five months passed since this sinister call. Every night, your last conversation is stuck in your head, you think back to your relationship with Jake, searching for what you could have done wrong and the more you think about it, the more you realise you always put more energy in this relationship than Jake did. Now, you consider yourself stupid for hoping for something beautiful when you had been warned that Jake couldn’t commit to someone. You thought you were different. You are not. You find yourself even more pathetic because Jake is always in your head. Even when he’s not with you anymore, he still manages to make you waste your time. 

Tonight is another proof of it. You ran into Jake at a Navy event. Unfortunately for you, you saw Jake there and now, here you are, laying on your bed, thinking back to him and this event and more specifically the moment you saw him in the parking lot when you left the party, a moment that won’t leave your mind for the next several days.

You went to this event without much conviction. You were accompanied by your new friend Scott whom you had met during your last mission.

At first, you didn’t want to be here, then you saw Jake and the second you recognised his laugh from the other end of the room, you wanted to run far away from the get-together. Scott, always a good friend, stayed by your side and distracted you. He even managed to make you laugh, although internally, your heart was breaking all over again. You didn’t talk to Jake all night. In fact, you didn’t even get close to him, you avoided him like the plague. You did until it was socially acceptable to leave the party. The second the evening began to wind down, you wanted to bolt far away from this place. While you were walking to your car, you found yourself face to face with Jake. At first, you both stood there, looking into each other’s eyes without talking and then, as you weren’t ready to confront him, you started to walk away to your vehicle when Jake held you back.

“Can we talk, please?”

“I don’t have anything to say to you, Jake.” you had told, on your guard. 

“Yeah, I imagine talking to me is the last thing you want to do but I need to tell you something.”

“You said more than enough last time.” you had declared, turning on your heel to go in the opposite direction to him.

“Actually, I didn’t say enough. You deserve an apology.”

At his sentence, you turned to him, surprised. Getting an apology from Jake was the last thing you expected. You stood in front of him, your arms crossed over your chest as a way to show him you wouldn’t let him get under your skin so easily - when in reality, this felt like doing something impossible.

“I’m sorry I left you in the dark when I broke things off. I’m sorry I pulled the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’. It wasn’t fair to you. And I’m…” Jake had sighed, “you deserve a real apology, better than this one, though I had to, at least, tell you this. Maybe I’m going too far but I’d be happy to make it up to you correctly by meeting each other someday soon.”

“Jake, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” you had refused, looking down for a second. “But thanks for what you just told me, it’s always nice to hear it.”

Following your sentence, you thought the conversation was over so you took out your car keys from your purse when Jake’s voice resonated in the parking lot once more:

“Is it because of the guy you were with tonight that you turned me down? Have you guys been together for a long time?”

“Scott? He’s just a friend.”

“The way he made you laugh…,” Jake had scoffed, “it didn’t feel like you were just being friends.”

“And yet, there is nothing between us.” you had replied, defensive. “And anyway, why does it bother you so much? We’re not together anymore, do I have to remind you this was your decision?”

“And it was a dumb decision. I miss you so damn much!” He had exclaimed with a guilty look on his face. “God, you have no idea. Everything reminds me of you. The second one of your favourite artists is on the radio, I can still picture you singing the lyrics with a huge smile on your face. What I wouldn’t do to see that smile again!” he had added more softly. “Even now, I always reach for your leg over there on your side of the car then I realise you’re not here anymore because I fucked up. I’m watching everything that you do, every achievement you make, I make sure to know them. I’ve always known you were a damn good pilot but you keep impressing me. I should’ve realised the chance I had when I was with you before ruining it. I can’t move on, I can’t even stomach loving somebody else beside you.” Jake had confessed, taking a step towards you.

As soon as you saw him getting closer, you couldn’t help but look at his lips, oh, how you’ve missed those lips so much! Looking at him more carefully, you also noticed he wanted to touch you, too. Several times, his hands had almost reached over for yours, nonetheless he held himself back, not wanting to ruin anything with you by acting impulsively. Listening to Jake’s confession almost made you fall for him again and forget about the pain he caused you. Though, you stayed silent, knowing that if you opened your mouth, you wouldn’t know how to resist him. With a desperate voice, Jake tried to go all in by stating one last time:

“I swear if you gave me one last chance, I would do better for you. I will be the man you deserve, I won’t break your heart. I learned from my mistakes, I promise.”

“Jake, you hurt me.” you had said with a weak voice.

“I get it but if you ever were to change your mind, I’d always be free. Again, I’m sorry.”

With this last apology, Jake left you alone and you got in your car with teary eyes. You hold them back until you left the parking lot.

Unfortunately, this is not what happened. 

You did run into Jake in the parking lot but he stayed silent. At one point, you thought he was about to say something nevertheless he just walked away, a guilty look on his face.

And here you are now, in your bed, fantasising about things you wish he said to you. Despite the break up five months ago, you’re still desperate for his love. Despite the pain he caused you, you yearn for his apologies, but especially you wish he’d still want you and even if in the scenario you made up, you refused to see Jake again, you know that once you would have gone home, you would have called him and said yes. You still love him and you wish you didn’t. He’s still playing with your feelings when he’s not even talking to you anymore. Your heart conspires against you by torturing you and making you long for a Jake who would know how to fix his mistakes and be the man you deserve. Yet, it’s of no use. Jake will never change and if he came back, it’d be just to play with your feelings before leaving you hanging again. You waste your time on idiotic things. It’s a waste of time to hope for him to change, it’s a waste of time to think of things he never said and things he’ll never say to you. Jake is a waste of time and you’re mad at yourself for dedicating so much time of your life for a man who stopped thinking about you a long time ago. You just hope one day you’ll be able to feel lighter, away from Jake and your feelings for him.

Part two

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

Emails I Can't Send Masterlist

[finniestoncrane]

Portrait Session

Capullo!Riddler x GN!Reader, word count: 1k commission: artist reader is propositioned by edward nygma to paint a portrait of him showcasing all his best features... 💚 commission me here! request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: non-consensual nudity from eddie but is that really a negative? plus some suggestive stuff

Usually, the end of the day was your favourite time in the studio. There was something soothing about tidying up and cleaning things away. It provided that sense of completion, even if you hadn’t manage to get very far in any pieces through the hours you’d spent there. So it was more irritating than anything else when you were suddenly interrupted as you washed your brushes in the sink. You could smell the overly fragrant cologne before you could feel the hand over your mouth, feel the warmth of the breath before the words were whispered into your ear.

“Ok… don’t do anything stupid… because we know how this goes… just, turn around slowly and I might uncover your mouth, ok?”

You nodded, rolling your eyes as you placed the voice. Nothing surprised you much in Gotham anymore, and very little scared you. But there was one thing that you found annoying, more than anything else, and now you were face to face with it.

“Edward Nygma, The Riddler, but of course, you know who I am.”

He flashed a grin and let go of your mouth.

“Yep. Very aware of you.”

“Oh, a fan, hm?”

He raised his eyebrows a few times, smiling at you with a lewd grin.

“Hardly. How did you get in here?”

“I’m The Riddler, idiot. That’s what you’re wondering? Not why I’m here, or what I might do to you?”

He winked and you felt your eyes roll again. Everything about him bothered you, and to be perfectly honest you would rather he killed you or knocked you out to steal whatever he might need, anything to stop him from talking.

“Ok, fine. Enlighten me.”

“Well, you never replied to my email enquiry. So I thought I’d stop by in person.”

“Oh! Yes! I remember that…”

A few weeks ago, you had received a curious email regarding the potential for you to capture the likeness of him in a portrait. You had initially thought it might be a scam, or a prank, but the ludicrous amount of compliments regarding his own features, and the horribly self-indulgent signature which was filled with riddles and more compliments, assured you that it might be genuine. And of course, if it was, you wanted nothing to do with it.

“So you did read it. And you chose not to respond to me?”

“Yep. Don’t get told ‘no’ often, huh?”

“Not by anyone that matters. And ordinarily, you definitely wouldn’t matter. But… your art is… different. Better. I like it. And I really, really want you to paint me.”

You shook your head silently, but he kept pleading.

“Come on! I can make it worth your while. Very worth your while.”

“I doubt that very much.”

Ignoring the suggestive grin on his face, you chose to take a look down his body, letting your gaze linger on his crotch as you served your cutting response.

“Ouch. But I was actually thinking monetarily, for once.”

Taking a quick look around the studio, you considered what a little bit of extra cashflow could do for you. New paints, new materials, restock the cabinets. Maybe add a skylight if he was feeling extra generous.

“Ok… fine. I’ll paint your portrait. Let me get my things set up and we can bash this out as quickly as possible.”

“That’s usually how I operate.”

Scoffing at him, you turned to grab your supplies, some brushes, a canvas, some paints, and when you returned your gaze to Edward Nygma, you found him shirtless and removing his pants.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“Uh… duh?”

He spread his arms out to the side, displaying his undressed form to you as his pants slid down his waist, leaving him in just his underwear.

“You’re gonna paint me nude.”

“I am?”

He threw his head back, sighing in exasperation.

“It really is me looking at my best, and I’m sure you’ll agree once you’ve seen me in all of my glory.”

You covered your eyes with your hand and turned your head slightly as Eddie removed his underwear, but you stole a quick glance at him before he told you to open your eyes. Facing him completely, you blinked a few times to adjust to the view.

“Well… see anything you like?”

Annoyingly, you did. He was slim, not toned, with a soft patch of red chest hair, and another patch of the same bright hue around his flaccid cock. And as he grinned, the self-satisfied smirk that usually irritated you, you found yourself blushing slightly.

“Let’s just get started now, come on.”

“Ah, ah, ah! Not quite yet, still got one more thing to do.”

He reached down to his cock, gripping it in his hand, and began to stroke it.

“Woah! Hey! What are you doing?”

“Well, I’m not going to have a portrait painted where I’m not looking my best or biggest.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’ll just be a second. Maybe you could… help me out?”

You let out an incredulous laugh, and he shrugged his shoulders.

“Suit yourself then.”

It was hard to take your eyes off of him as he stroked his cock, and you could see in your peripheral that he was staring intently back at you. Eventually though, the pleasure had taken precedent, and his eyes were closing as he let his mouth fall open. Soft sighs spilled out as his hand moved up and down his swiftly growing length quicker. You could tell he was reaching climax, which definitely wasn’t the point of this at all. And you knew, unfortunately, you should step in to prevent this from going any further.

“Ok… are you ready to start now, Mister Nygma?”

“Sure am, and I’m ready for some other things too.”

With another wink, he looked down to his cock, smiling back at you, a hopeful tone to his words. If he kept this up, you’d be here a lot longer than it would take you just to finish the painting.

[cultherent]

An Accidental Email [Ch.6]

𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

TW: Toxicity, Pegging degradation not in a sex way (rude asf way)

Chapter 6:

Thursday

“Hey, Y/N. Are you doing alright? You’ve seemed pretty down the past few days.” Todoroki glanced at you, your eyebrows furrowed as your pen pressed against your lip. You both were in the recording studio, working on a project together. 

You sighed, “Do you mind me getting personal?”

“Go ahead.”

“There’s this guy I’m seeing, and he’s been really distant. I’ve tried to talk with him, but he’s been ignoring me. I don’t know what to do or what to think.”

“I see,” he hummed, his finger going to his chin. “If you don’t mind me intruding… Is it Bakugo?”

Your eyes widened, “Is it that easy to tell?”

“I’ve just noticed the lack of arguing. While others would be relieved, I knew something had to be going on between the two of you.”

You sighed, moving a strand of hair out of your face. “I just don’t understand what happened. We talk about seeing each other more, but it’s been radio silence on his end. Like, what happened?”

____

Last Saturday Night

“It’s nothing, Uraraka.” Katsuki closed the door behind him, not wanting the neighbors to hear the commotion. It was after midnight, and he didn’t want another noise complaint. 

“Did you hurt yourself?” Uraraka stepped forward, her hand reaching for his forearm.

“No, no. I didn’t hurt myself.”

She removed her hand and folded her arms. The space between her eyebrows wrinkled, and her eyes darkened. “Did someone do that to you?”

“That’s not important right now,” he walked towards the kitchen. “Why are you here?” She invited herself over many times before, even though he told her repeatedly not to do so. 

She followed behind him and tugged at his shirt, stopping him from getting closer to the kitchen. They stood underneath the door frame that separated the living room from the hallway. 

“Don’t be silly, babe. I’m always here.” 

Katsuki rolled his eyes. He internally cringed at the pet name. He turned to continue down the hall. 

“Anyways,” she continued, “I know you love me, so why don’t you trust me enough to tell me these things?”

“Ochaco, please. Let’s not do this right now; I’m tired.” There were bags under his eyes, and after getting himself annihilated by you, he just wanted to grab something to eat and knock out.

“No. Who did that to you? Do I know her?”

“No, relax,” his back still faced her. 

“Am I going to have problems with someone now?” 

Aggravated, he turned around as they reached the kitchen, “No. You’re not gonna have problems with my coworker-” 

Time stilled. His eyes widened internally from his slip-up.

Uraraka’s head tilted to the side, “Ohhh… That’s who she is… Is she pretty?”

“Ochaco, please.”

Her head proceeded to wobble, “No, no. Is she prettier? Is she the better fuck?”

“You’re getting out of line.”

“What? You can’t tell me if she’s the better fuck?”

“No, Uraraka. Stop,” he lied through his teeth.

“Stop? Are you kidding me? I’m right here, but instead you went out and got some dirty convenient pussy.”

“Uraraka, enough!” Bakugo’s fist tightened, and he stepped back from her. “You cannot talk about her like that.” 

She stepped back, her mind processing what he just said. “Oh,” her shoulders lowered. “My bad, I went too far. How about we just enjoy the dinner I prepared for us? I’ll go warm it up.” She smiled and tightened her hand that held his forearm. Her fingernails soon dug into her palms.

. . . 

“I’m gonna take a shower.” Uraraka watched as Katsuki grabbed his towel and entered his own suite. Once the door shut, she waited a couple of minutes to make sure he didn’t leave anything. 

When the time passed, she grabbed Katsuki’s phone, which was on the charger. She pressed the button on the side, then typed in the password she'd seen him put in many times. 

She clicked on the messages app and started going down the list; she stopped when she got to your contact. Opening it, the screen was littered with sexts you both had been sending each other. She bit down on her cheek and opened a social media app. You both followed each other, and she concluded you were his work friend. 

She went through his work calendar, remembering there was an event his work was having—a dinner of sorts. More of a drink, eat at high tables, dance, and talk. She didn’t care what it was about, she just wanted several words with you. 

____

A Week Later - Friday - Dinner Party

“Did you see that he brought someone?” Your eyes were glued on Katsuki and his plus one.

“You mean the girl in the bright red dress and matching makeup? Yes, yes, I did,” Shoto glanced.

“She had her arm wrapped around Katsuki's, and she had a big smile on.”

“Mhm.”

“My thing is, how are we going to have this whole arrangement and not tell me you have a girlfriend or are in a relationship?”

“Well, if we’re talking about the whole blackma-”  

Your hand darted to Todoroki’s mouth. “Shhh!” You rolled your eyes as he chuckled.

“Let me get you a drink to calm down. I’ll be fast.”

You nodded, then looked around the room. The lobby of the building was decked out with balloons, assorted colored lights, tables, and a bar. You leaned on the table, eyeing the girl Katsuki was with. You had tried to ask him to be your date for this event, but he only avoided you. You rubbed your forehead, trying not to recount the many embarrassing moments you had been sharing. 

“Don’t do that so much; it’ll stay that way.” Todoroki handed you a drink. 

“Thanks, Shoto…”

“Oh, come on. Keep your head up.”

“Easy for you to say. The girls you want don’t play with you like Bakugo is doing to me.”

He chuckled, “You’re joking, right?”

One of your eyebrows relaxed, the other raised. 

“You see that girl over there,” he discreetly pointed out. “Momo confessed that she liked me, but she’s been avoiding me nonstop since her confession. I’ve been trying to get with her, but none of my approaches have worked.”

The both of you ponder on your shared dwindling love life as you take sips from your glasses. 

“Y’know what?” You put your drink down. “Let’s make them jealous.”

Todoroki smiles, “I like the sound of that.”

“Find me on the dance floor.” You winked as you walked over to the DJ. Not many people were dancing, but you pulled out a playlist that would send everyone running. After giving the DJ the song suggestions, he gave you a thumbs up, and you walked to the dance floor.

Shoto was there, shimmying to the music, patiently waiting for you. Once the song came on, you both put on your game faces. You grabbed your dress, which had a slit and danced with Todo. You held onto his white tux, smirking as you got closer to each other. It was a bit sultry, but not too much. Your eyes would look toward Bakugo's, and you knew he was looking. 

You watched as his eyes couldn’t stay away, but his lover noticed. She turned his head with her hand and kissed him, her eyes not closed but on yours. Your eyes squinted, and you grinned. "Oh, that’s how we’re playing.”

You weren’t going to get mad at the girl. You had no idea of the preconceived relationship they had. What you did know was that you wanted to cause a bit of havoc. 

Shoto glanced at you with an idea. He brought you close to his chest and placed his lips right next to your ear. Katsuki could only get angry internally, but you could see it in his shift in demeanor. 

“I’ll grab Bakugo, and you grab Momo.”

“Smart idea.”

As soon as those words left your mouth, you danced towards the girl who stood before the dance floor. Her eyes longingly saw herself in the pit of beautiful bodies. 

“Come on, let’s dance.” 

You grabbed her hands, and she didn’t hesitate. You pulled her in and spun her around. Conveniently, you pressed your back against Todoroki and switched partners. Your hands were gripped by Bakugo's, which were slightly clammy. You moved around, following the beat of the music. He was tense at first, but he found the rhythm with you. 

“Loosen up, Katsu. It’s only me.”

He chose to stay silent, and you accepted that. You were happy that he was this close to you after all the separation. 

Your bodies grew closer, and the temperature increased. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Your mouth was slowly opening until the music cut out. Bakugo smiled, nodded his head, and then let go of your hands. You watched as he walked away.

Seeing Shoto dancing with the woman he liked, you went to find an empty table after getting a drink. Placing your arms on the surface, you took out your phone and bobbed to the music.

“Oh hey!” You peered up from your phone, your vision engulfed by Bakugo’s plus one. You turned off your device and gave her your attention. “You’re Y/N, right? Bakugo has told me so much about you!” She smiled.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. I saw you were a little busy, but I wanted to talk to you, Y/N.”

“Uraraka, what are you doing?” Katsuki walked into view, internally filled with dread.

“Oh nothing, sweetie. Just having a chat. Go get some drinks or food. I’ll be with you soon.” Katsuki’s lips quivered slightly, but he turned and walked away. “Boys, y’know how they get.”

Your stature shifted, and you relaxed more while the girl stood straight, “Sorry. Do I know you?”

“Oh, no! But you will,” her smile remained. “I’m Katsuki’s girlfriend.”

There was something about her. You expected wrath to come from her. You exhaled from your nose, disguised like you were breathing, “Weird, ‘cause he’s never mentioned you.” You took a sip from your drink.

“That’s because I told him I wanted our relationship to be private. He listens so well.”

“Bless your heart,” you muttered. 

“I like your outfit, by the way.”

“Same to you.”

“Thank you. Mine is designer!”

“Really?” You could tell from the seams of the dress that it was a lie. “Mine is thrifted.”

“Yeah… I can tell. It suits you, though.” Your eyes widened, and you chuckled internally. You knew how she was going to play this petty game, and you knew how to combat it. “Personally, I could never let that touch me. But that’s just because I like better things on me.”

You took another sip of your drink.

“Can I be honest? Real girl talk?”

“Go ahead, sweetie,” you copied her from before. You watched her facade crack a little.

“I saw the little gift you left on Bakugo’s neck, and as his girlfriend, I don’t really appreciate that. I think you need to give him space and respect our relationship.”

Your eyes go from this Uraraka girl to Todoroki, who passed by and greeted you both. 

“Oh… Oh. I get it, him too?”

You chuckled, remaining silent, and took another swig, purposely dragging it out.

“Damn, you’re good. I totally respect that. I could never; I respect myself too much. I guess it's that easy for you. You’ve got to spill; how many more office bodies have you caught?” 

Your mannerisms stayed the same. It made her irritated. 

“Not telling? I get it. After that many, I wouldn’t say either.” Her face stayed as innocent as before, and her lips curled as if she hadn’t said the most darndest thing.

Ready to break your silence, “Listen-” 

“Anyways! He’s been coming home rather stressed recently. I’m starting to see why…” She looked you up and down, smirking.

“Pfft, I’m looking at the real reason right now. Thinking I’m the reason he’s stressed is so far off, I’m not surprised you didn’t understand.” What you said caught her off guard, so you leaned forward. “Love, he’s less stressed moaning my name and saying how much he loves my strap in his ass. That’s how he’s able to come home to you in the first place.” 

You walked to the side of her, your hand patting her shoulder. “Not that you’d know what I’m talking about.” You walked away, not hearing a single word come out of her mouth. 

You made a B-line to the bathroom, but before you entered, your arm was grabbed, and you turned to find it was Katsuki. “What the fuck do you want?” Your eyebrows furrowed, and you so badly wanted to push the bathroom door open.

“What happened between the two of you?” His expression was scared and timid. 

“Why does it matter? You should’ve told me you were in a relationship. I want nothing to do with you.” You pushed the bathroom door open, only for him to follow you inside. It was a one-person bathroom, and you stood with your arms folded.

“Firstly, I’m sorry for whatever she said to you. And secondly, we are far from an exclusive relationship.” 

Your weight shifted between your legs, and your head tilted. You were interested in what he had to say.

The blonde sighed and sat on the closed toilet, “We’re just fuck buddies. We’ve discussed before that we can see other people, but I don’t know what happened. She got obsessive, started calling me pet names, and whenever I asked about her other partners the way she responded shifted.”

“You don’t have to air out all her drama. But, you’re telling me that you’re just seeing each other? No girlfriend-boyfriend situation? Exclusive?”

“We are just seeing each other.”

“And what about you ignoring me for the past few weeks?”

“I’m really sorry about that. She’s been coming to my apartment every night. I didn’t want anything to happen to invoke a response.”

You took a deep breath in and placed your hand on the bathroom door. “Katsu, please get your shit together with this girl. I can see something happening between us, but I’m not dealing with some toxic bitch.” Before walking out, “Have a good night.”

. . .

Taking his shoes off, Bakugo could not shake off the uneasiness he felt about the looming Ochaco. He watched as she disappeared to the bathroom and returned in normal attire. Her face didn’t help either; on it only laid a smile, and he knew that didn’t mean anything good.

“Bakugo. Let’s have a talk.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

She stared at him, her smile dropping. “What the fuck have you been doing with that girl.”

“Ochaco, we’ve discussed that we’re in an open relationship. Whatever I’ve done with Y/N shouldn’t matter to you.”

“Are you gay now or something?”

“Excuse me?”

“No, be honest with me. That has to be the only reason you like her. Because you get fucked in the ass like a gay man.”

“Uraraka, what the actual fuck is wrong with you!?”

“Y’know what. You’re a dirty fucking man whore who can’t get hard when he sees a sexy girl in front of him.” Her eyebrows furrowed, and her arms folded. “I’ve tried to sleep with you countless times. Every time, you couldn’t get it up. Just because you want to be fucked in the ass? You’re sick. Disgusting.”

“You’re far from holy either, Uraraka. Spreading your legs for the whole block, but for some reason being obsessed with me? Be fucking real. Tell your pastor who’s the real whore, you fake Christian bastard.” Katsuki walked to the bathroom and grabbed her things. He threw her clothes out the door and held it open, “Get the fuck out of my apartment.” 

Ochaco’s mouth gaped open, not realizing how badly she had messed things up. Her eyes began to water, snot soon coming after, “I’m sorry, Baku, I didn’t mean it. It was an outburst. You know how I get. Please forgive me. I know you love me.”

“The only person that loves you is yourself.” He went into her pocket and grabbed the key that he’d been meaning to get back from her. “Never come back.”

The room was filled with the slamming of the door and then silence. Katsuki walked to his room, which was far away from his apartment door entrance. He curled himself into a ball and started crying. No one had ever made him feel bad about his sexual preferences. Even though his liking for her was fading, he still thought of her as a friend. They had known each other for so long, and for those words to come out of her mouth, it ruined him a little. 

. . .

“Oh my God, Katsu, are you crying?”

“Can I come over?”

“Of course.”

[asherlockstudy]

Hey I just saw your post about the 40th anniversary for Rhett and Link where you mentioned they had made RULeS for their friendship!! I’ve always loved them but I haven’t seen all their stuff and don’t know much (I’m learning eagerly lmao) but I would love love love more information on that!! I can’t help but feel bad for link too cuz through your post and others I’ve seen it does seem kinda like Rhett has been controlling/ banking over links abandonment issues especially in the past. I kinda see it through their regular videos too that Rhett seems to have more confidence or at least projects an attitude of confidence and “coolness” almost even lording it over Link at times (but I’m not sure if I’m projecting) I still love them both and acknowledge relationships are complicated obviously but a few times in random compilation clips I’ve seen Rhett talking about being Links only friend and having friends that don’t like link and the crew as a whole being annoyed by Link, which sure I understand that’s their go-to dynamic and it’s entertaining and part of why I love to watch them but the jokes about a link not having friends feels too real so of course my over active mind starts running from there and theorizing. Plus it sounded to me like the rules for their friendship weren’t what link wanted and they feel like aghhh ya know! I’m captivated dude I would love to know more.

ANON MAIL PART 2:

I just sent the last ask but I remembered that podcast where Link talks about sending Rhett THE email saying he didn’t want to pretend anymore if they weren’t gonna be real friends, I assume this was the time in which they had rules over their friendship, he even mentioned he got his wife to read over it and support him on it so it sounds like it was a very intense decision for him to even voice his opinion to Rhett like whaaaaa first of all, a little weird, and then Rhett admits freely on the podcast— I think he was the one to bring it all up in the first place — that he regrets that he basically just defended himself to link instead of actually acknowledging what he needed. This was a very short segment of a howee Mandel- idk how to spell that butches name lmao—podcast and they didn’t talk about it a lot so if there’s other ones where they have talked about it that you know of lmk g, but it’s just so sad to me that Link put so much into pouring his heart out to Rhett, basically threatening to end it all cuz he was super serious about it, only for Rhett to defend himself to Link and not take him as seriously or compassionately as he should have AND Link just let it go and found a way to compromise anyways even while Rhett didn’t HEAR him or understand him, he still just kept being Rhett’s friend. And then for Rhett to apologize YEARS later is like bittersweet first of all and then for Rhett to just casually bring it up in a podcast— which Link didn’t seem super happy abt btw. Idk it just rubbed me a little raw tbh but also hooked me in uggggh. This may just be my mind turning link into a new lil meow meow ya know 😂😂 but I would be holding a grudge over that if it was me

Hello and sorry for the super late answer! I have been very busy and have fallen behind with all the mail.

First of all, my speculation is the same; that the phase when they imposed rules on their friendship was some time before Link eventually had enough and sent that email. I agree with how you feel but at least Rhett at some point realised he did not handle the matter properly. Better than nothing I guess. I am not very good at remembering the sources when years have passed, I suppose the rules are mentioned at some point in an EB of late 2017 - early 2018. As for the email, they have mentioned the situation quite a lot of times, in fact I believe the Howee Mandel (<- I don't remember the name either lol) was the first or one of the first times they mentioned it but it is for sure the most detailed and telling one. So even if you don't find the other times, you technically aren't missing something.

I am very tired of this dynamic of Link always being the butt of the joke, the unwanted one, the annoying one. I don't think he has been painted as friendless outside of his friendship with Rhett though, because he speaks often about his other friends, his dads from school club and several others. Actually he mentions friends and going to social events more than Rhett. Rhett has only said Link did not have other friends besides Rhett in their early childhood. Rhett would often go and play with other kids but he had in the back of his mind that Link would be in his house all alone with his toys feeling lonely. That was relatively true when they were kids but then in puberty they had the same friend group, girlfriends and then in adulthood Link developed an assertive personality whereas Rhett sort of withdrew to himself. Real life Rhett is not as confident and outspoken and sociable as he is in their content. Link is often the one dealing with the issues that need "assertiveness" in their company while Rhett deals with the creative part more. To be honest, I think Link is genuinely the least likeable of the two for the majority of the employees but this is not because he is silly or friendless or annoying but because he is visibly the tough boss between the two (like, the bad cop). I am 99% confident that Rhett and Link have the exact same demands and expectations from their employees, however Rhett is less likely to voice them or get impatient because he is always SO worried about how he will be perceived and what the employees will think of him and what reputation he will have then.

Lately I feel like Link is giving up on his interest or assertiveness in a lot of things Mythical though and I have a guess why, however that's a whole story for another post...

[toomuchracket]

i’m such an angst girlie can we pls have some d word angst? x

maybe like in the early stages of their relationship before they r officially together and he kinda freaks out over being older than her and ends up upsetting her? not a problem if you’re not into writing like that x

yeah!! like as much as matty's a confident guy, the age thing is actually kinda a hindrance for him at the start - even though he likes you SO much and he knows you like him too and you're both adults and whatnot, he doesn't want to hold you back at all in any aspect of life. he freaks out when he sees a pic of you and some of your friends on a night out, not because he's jealous, but because you look so carefree and happy and just like you've got your whole life ahead of you (not that he can't relate to any of that. he's just high and hitting a para ok) and that he's going to put a damper on that by being older and maybe a little less energetic and more likely to settle down than go crazy in a club until 4am (like i said, he's high and in his feels). the next day, even sober, matty can't really shake the feeling that he's too old to make you truly happy, and i think he panic ghosts you a lil - you text him like "hi, are you busy? i was gonna call for a catch-up but idk what you're up to today and i don't wanna bother you. no worries if not, just lmk pls. maybe we can arrange going for coffee tomorrow x" and he just opens it and ignores it, out of some fear that by replying he'll lead you on. and he doesn't wanna end your little burgeoning romance over text, because he's not a dick, so the safest thing to do is just... ignore. idiot that he is, though, matty forgets to turn read receipts off, so you can see that he reads every follow-up text you send sparingly the rest of the day ("assuming ur probs busy. no worries! are you alright though? X"; "i've not done anything to upset you, have i? just that you keep opening my messages and pieing them x"; "i take it you can't/don't wanna talk today. i'll just leave you be, then. sorry for bothering you"). it makes him feel like shit, but he figures it's probably for the better. does he sleep at all that weekend? no he doesn't. and neither do you.

monday rolls around. matty gets to the office early in the hopes that he can catch you for a chat before you start work - it'll hurt, but it's best to get it out of the way. but you had the same idea; when he walks in, you're at your desk blinking sleep from your eyes, laptop open to your emails. you don't say anything but a curt "hi", which matty reciprocates softly, and the two of you sit in silence at your desks for a bit before you say "are you ok? found it a bit weird that you didn't reply to me the whole weekend. wondered if something was the matter with you". matty's like "yeah i'm fine. and i'm sorry for that. it's just... your pictures from your night out", and you're immediately on the defensive like "what? my pictures? why? were you pissed off at me going out, jealous? that's a bit shit" - matty's like "no, no, the opposite. i think it's good you went out, it just made me think of some things", and you look at him questioningly so he continues like "it just made me question if i'm good for you or not. like, you're young and cool and free and shit, and i'm kinda past that stage. and i don't think it's fair for me to hold you back from enjoying yourself and going out and pulling all-nighters, simply because i don't really wanna do stuff like that anymore". there's more silence for a minute, and then you speak up really quietly like "you're dumping me?", and matty's heart breaks, but he's like "i think it's for the best" - you're like "but i thought you liked me", and he's like "i do like you, darling, i really do. but i can't in good conscience limit you at all because of that, it's too selfish", and you get a bit angry like "no, matty, what's selfish is you not even bothering to ask me what i actually DO want instead of just assuming it. i don't give a FUCK about going out clubbing! i only went on friday to celebrate my friend's birthday, and quite frankly i'd have rather been in my flat having dinner with you like we did last week".

that's a total curveball for matty; he's like "you'd have rather... stayed in... on a friday night in london... with me?", and you're like "YES, you idiot, because YOU'RE what i want. i don't give a shit about the age gap - i like you, more than i've ever liked anyone else before, probably. and if i didn't or don't want to do anything you want to to, i'd tell you right away. but that hasn't happened yet, not once". matty's sitting there in total shock, just looking at you, so you keep talking like "look, if the age gap really is an issue for you, then i understand. but i really don't think i could go back to being just friends, matty, i really couldn't"; matty exhales and admits "neither could i", and your face just lights up like "really?", and he nods. and then matty stands up and walks over to you, then kneels in front of you so you're slightly above him and says "i'm so sorry for just assuming what you wanted instead of asking, sweetheart, i really am. can we have dinner together tonight as an apology, and we can just keep going as we were before i fucked up?" - you hug him like "we can have dinner, and we can try. but you better not do that to me again, healy, i swear to god. i might be a baby compared to you, but my communication skills have passed the gaga stage, trust me". you're laughing as you say the last bit, which makes matty feel a lot better; he rolls his eyes like "you're never going to let me live this down, are you? well, it's a good thing i still think you're the most attractive woman on the planet even when you're taking the piss out of me", and you're sarcastic like "god, stop flirting with me!", and matty's like "never. anyway, my place after work sound alright?". and you're like "sounds perfect. can you make that pasta we had a couple of weeks ago? it was amazing", and matty's like "whatever you want, darling, you'll get" <3

[snakepitgunner]

I am considering it, I have tickets to the London and Manchester shows but they’re not until April so I might send something his way in a few days just to see what’s going on.

A little of everything, I honestly couldn’t concentrate on what he was doing the whole time, he definitely pushed his tongue deep inside me a few times and that made me lose it. When he knew I was gonna cum he’d kinda suck and gently bite and bury his face in me.

His fingers were incredible, he just knew exactly where to go and how fast to go, and he liked to watch his fingers slide in and out, he sucked them and then let me suck them.

When I was on top, and when he took me from behind he asked me to tell him if he was hurting because I’d already told him how big he was. Mostly the whole time he was just really loving and intimate about it, I remember at one point when my ankles were over his shoulders and I was shaking with how good it felt, and he said ‘Yeah? You like that?’ And went even deeper/faster. It was a lot of praise mainly, telling me I was beautiful, and so sexy. (I hate writing this because I sound like I’m blowing my own trumpet).

We talked a little before and I asked him if he wanted me to tie him down like I’d seen him before in his music video and he just laughed and told me he wasn’t really into that stuff.

Once he was comfortable taking me from behind and knew he wasn’t hurting me he did smack my ass a little.

I’m around 5’2, brown hair past my shoulders & brown eyes, pale white- like textbook English doesn’t see the sun😅. I’d say I’m a small pear shape? I don’t know if that type is universal but I have a little tummy that I’m quite self conscious about but Slash loved it, I told him I hated it and he kept squeezing me and even kissed/bit me there. I’m 34B which by his standards id say was small because I know he prefers bigger boobs, but I think his obsession is just boobs in general.

I hope this is okay, sorry the reply took a while, I had to get up early for work.

Did you already have tickets to the shows when you were with him? Was that why he gave you the email to get in touch around that time or did you get them after?

Don't feel weird about talking about how he was praising you. We are all living through you right now. When I say we all want every detail, I'm being serious. My inbox is full of people asking me to get more information out of you. We all love this stuff.

I always imagined him being a dirty talker so the praise thing is really interesting to hear. He has such a gentle voice so that probably made it even better.

You have a little belly doesn't surprise me though. He's been into women who weren't stick thin quite a bit. It's another reason Meegan was such a shock. She is very thin and his history doesn't support that body type.

Feel free to take as much time as you need to reply to these questions. I'm on at random times but also, we'll all wait as long as we have to. Every single one of us is pretending to be you right now, lol.

[Originally posted on February 7, 2024]

[sugarcakeworld]

Pickles Pumpkins

Prompt: Kloktober prompt #14 use a fall food or drink, #25 campfire or left in the cold

Pairings: Pickle/Abigail Remeltindtdrinc

Summary: Abigail was half-kidding when she posted a meme asking who was going to take her to the pumpkin patch on a cute little friend date. The type of post she ordinarily wouldn’t ever make in a million years, but Pickles took her very seriously. Pickles is going to take her on a cute little friend date to the pumpkin patch. Hold his beer.

Pickles Pumpkins

Abigail had been staying out of the public eye for a long time. Such a long time that she was starting to feel restless. The news cycle had moved on since the events of the Doomstar. So emboldened by the fact that no one was looking over her shoulder anymore, she returned to her social media to see what her friends and loved ones were up to.

Her friend Amber had posted a meme that made her snort. It pictured a picturesque pumpkin patch with the caption, SO WHO IS GOING TO TAKE ME ON A CUTE LITTLE FRIEND DATE TO THE PUMPKIN PATCH? NO ONE? FUCK YOU THEN. Amber was so real for that. If Abigail was honest with herself, her personal life had become a desolate ice scape of nothingness. Half-joking, half-serious, she posted the meme on her instagram. 

Instantly, she heard a ping on her phone that someone had messaged her on the app. Opening her messages, she prepared for the worst, but smiled when she saw Pickles name pop up. They’d texted a lot over the last four months. He’d replied to the meme and wrote:

My vineyard has a pumpkin patch. And we’re testing out a new drink menu. It shouldn’t be terrible this time. There’ll be a corn maze and hayrides and a campfire with live music. NO CLOWNS OR SCARE ACTORS I HATE THAT SHIT. You should come with me and check it out this weekend! I’m not inviting the band because they’d find some way to fuck this up for me. But if it’s you, it’ll be great. Let’s fucking go get sick and twisted and drink hard apple cider!

This could go either way, Abigail thought dryly. Then she thought about her other plans, which were non-existent. So she typed back: send the details to my email a.remeltindtdrinc@diefordethklok.com

Pickles sent the details for a driver that would come pick her up for the event and where the vineyard was located at. She felt surprisingly good about this, she decided as she waited for the weekend. She felt even better whenever there wasn’t some incomprehensible petroglyph of a text Pickles sent to her while wasted asking if she wanted to come over. When the drunk text did come, it was just a voice mail of him saying, “Fuck yeah, gonna pick some pumpkins… fuck yeah, pumpkins! With Abigail! Whoooo!” Before it stopped recording. Three more voicemails that she didn’t bother picking up because she knew there was no point. All similar. 

Since this was a professional event for Pickles, Abigail dressed in a sweater and knit pointille skirt and brought her Chloe bag, topping off her outfit with a bucket hat and big sunglasses. She was surprised the driver was a professional driver hired through a service instead of a klokateer. It felt odd to be led into the backseat by someone not dressed with a hood over their head, who talked to her and addressed her normally.

As the car pulled up to Pickle’s vineyard, Abigail realized this was a way bigger deal than she’d been prepared for. She looked down at the text Pickles sent her earlier. As planned, Pickles and his bodyguard Tugeye came and led her through the press that was clamoring around her for a statement about how she’d been doing, asking all kinds of stressful questions she didn’t want to give answers to. Being next to Tugeye was also anxiety inducing, the man rippling with muscles and his cold expression reminding her of the silver masked assassin. Shaking, she felt a thin but familiar freckled arm wrap around her and help guide her forward. 

“What happened to all the klokateers?” Abigail asked, a bit worried why they weren’t managing the press better.

“Oh, right. They all died,” Pickles said. “Sorry. I forgot to mention that. We’ve hired people but they’re just normal people. Not, uh, you know. Part of a death cult anymore.” Sometimes when Pickles wasn’t high, he had this intense unblinking stare that was a bit unnerving. He tended to be quieter and on edge more. “So, can you please just fuck off and let us through?” He asked a reporter who came close to shoving a microphone into his cheek. His green eyes locked on Tugeye, who broke the reporter’s fingers before a wave parted enough for them to get through to the winery. Abigail winced and followed Pickels through the front door, anxious to leave the throngs of paparazzi and press behind.

“Jesus Christ,” Abigail breathed in. “Wow. I’d say this event is already successful.”

Pickles smiled. “I just hope the cider is good. Unlike the wine. We should be able to taste test the menu in a little bit.” He brought her around behind the scenes as he talked with the chef and sommelier, as well as the head of staff that were in charge of the Pickles Pumpkin Patch. Abigail had seen the rollercoasters and ferriswheel from inside of the car as they approached the vineyard, as well as the impressive building that functioned as an event space. The invite online had promised harvest themed activities fun for the whole family, as well as a family focused exhibit featuring dinosaurs, which was a bit confusing, though the pictures looked cute. 

The sommelier led them to a table, where a spread of alcoholic drinks was waiting along with some fall themed treats. Alcoholic slushes made up of rainbow swirls of color in large translucent cups with the Pickles Vineyard trademark sat next to cups of cider and mulled spiced drinks. Those contained imported wine, since Pickles had moved to traditional methods of harvesting wine, having learnt his lesson about messing with the grape. “It’s about the real estate,” He had explained. “I wasn’t about to let go of this place once I poured all of my money into it. And then I looked at Knott’s Berry Farm, and I thought, I could do that here!”

“These aren’t bad,” Abigail said while she took a sip of the mulled spiced wine. “This is great, actually.” Instead of putting the glass down, she held it close to her for the rest of the tour of the event space. Her praise seemed to ease the nervousness Pickles felt, because he straightened up and smiled. 

“Fuck yeah, Abby endorsed the drinks. Let’s open. We’re good to go.” Pickles held a hard apple cider over his head. People scrambled to start the event, speaking into walkie-talkies and walking fast out of the lounge. “Let’s go upstairs and look at the ballroom. It’s got a great view.” He bounded up the large staircase and crashed a wedding that was taking place in the ballroom. Not caring in the slightest about the faces guests were making, Pickles kept walking out to the balcony. “Just showing the space off. Don’t mind me. Congratulations, or whatever.” Smiling apologetically, Abigail followed him, telling the bride how much she loved her shoes.

“Thanks, they’re Sophia Webster,” The bride flashed a bright grin. People whipped their phones out to record Pickles the Drummer crashing the wedding. Abigail was glad when the doors to the balcony closed, ending the encounter. 

Pickles plopped down onto one of the wire benches, raising his drink to the view of the entire orchard below. “To prime real estate.” 

Abigail raised up her own plastic cup. “Yeah, now that’s a view.” The orchard was washed in crisp fall sunlight, rows and rows of grapevines perfectly tended sprouting up from the ground in straight lines. They seemed to go on forever, disappearing along the horizon. The wedding’s floral arrangements arched over the doors they’d just come through, and soft jazz played over speakers from inside where the reception was taking place.

Pickles still wasn’t high or drunk, and had that same quiet and unblinking expression on his face. It was strange for him not to be drinking a lot, especially at an event, Abigail thought to herself. “Thank you for inviting me to this opening. It’s really special, really nice. I appreciate it.”

His face flushed a little as he smiled and leaned back on the bench. “This stuff is so boring, usually. Honestly, you’re the best part of this opening. Seeing you after all the crazy stuff we’ve been through. I’m glad you’re here. We can still do the hay ride and corn maze and all of that. But without the lines, like regular jack-offs.”

“Yes, unlike the regular jack-offs,” Abigail agreed. “You know we can still hang out if you drink, right? It won’t bother me.” 

“Heh, yeah,” Pickles rubbed his neck. “I am just slowing down for your sake.” He wiggled an eyebrow at her, prompting her to hold up a finger and finish her mulled spiced wine. “Okay, that’s one. Good job. Try to keep up.” He finished the last of his apple cider.

Abigail looked down at him. “You try to keep up.”

His semi-permanent smirk appeared, marking the beginning of their day of hitting it hard at the Pickles Pumpkin Patch & Winery. They started by drinking all of the alcoholic slush flavors. Driving go karts. Trying to pick the best pumpkins at the pumpkin patch. Looking at ducklings. Walking through the corn maze. Drinking more hard apple cider. Ended up circling around on the back of the horse drawn hayride. 

They were both slumped over with their elbows resting on the back of the wagon. “Can I be honest?” Abigail asked. 

“Ooooh,” Pickles wiggled his fingers. 

“The only reason I turned you down on the dethsub was because you smelled like mongoose piss and manure. And I felt pressured.” She chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. 

“No, that wasn’t my proudest moment. I usually have better moves than that. I was going nuts. You know I’m fine just being friends. We’re cool. But thank you for reassuring me that I could totally score with you, if I didn’t wear that awful cologne. Fragonard Les Fleurs piece of shit.”

“The suit was a lot. It felt like prom. What were you thinking?” She laughed, picturing him basically shaking in the grips of some Vulcan like mating season heat while festooned in a bilullous dress shirt and blue tuxedo. 

“You brought out a version of me I didn’t know existed. Just gross.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gross.”

“I seem to have that affect on some people.” She side eyed him, thinking about-unfortunately-most of the men she’d previously worked with in addition to Dethklok. “Not on purpose.”

“We’re only men,” Pickles said. “Just stupid idiots, Abby.”

“I’m stupid too,” She admitted. Pickles hung his mouth open.

“You take that back. You’re not stupid. You’re the smartest woman I’ve ever met. Shame on you, Abby.” He genuinely looked so shocked and upset that Abigail held up her hands. “You’re a literal goddess.” He crossed his arms and glared at her, like he’d caught her underage and smoking a cigarette.

“Ok, I’m not stupid. I’m sorry. I’m really smart.” She wasn’t sure what she’d done or what to say. This seemed to be all he wanted from her, because he uncrossed his arms and laid back down on his elbows. 

“Damn right you are.” 

The horse’s gait clopped to a stop. The driver of the wagon turned around to face them. “Well, as fun as this is, maybe it’s time to stretch your legs. Away from here. Give your customers a chance to ride.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but your horse smells terrible. We’re getting off.” He hopped off onto the ground, turning and waiting for Abigail to do the same. When she stumbled, he helped her stand up. “Maybe let’s find some water.”

“I’m fine,” Abigail insisted. Pickles didn’t seem very drunk at all. “You should get on my level.” She sat down on a bale of hay by a topiary and some fall floral arrangements with sunfollowers. “I’m just going to sit down for a bit.” All of the families passing by on either side of her made her feel guilty for getting wasted. Was this allowed? She laughed. “Oooh, maybe we should go somewhere I can throw up.”

While she didn’t black out, the next forty minutes were not her proudest moments of her life, either. Roughly cut together of Pickles holding her hair back while she vomited into a toilet. Then her singing her favorite Snakes N’ Barrels Song, then more vomiting, and her sitting on the floor of the bathroom while strangers entered and exited awkwardly, some with children in tow. Pickles squatted next to her. “I think I’m good now,” she announced.

Standing up, he gave her a hand and helped her up. “Let’s go sit down. Do you still want to stay for the closing ceremony? Or I can call the driver. You don’t have to be here for that. Whatever you wanna do.”

“No, I came to hang out with you. You can do whatever you need to do. I’ll sit down and wait for the closing ceremony.” Ordinarily, she’d have chosen to drive home and curled up on her couch. The idea of that being their day filled her with dissatisfaction. 

“Yay, Abby’s staying.” He grinned and walked with her back to the event space. Phones out, they sat outside while he smoked a cigarette. It was growing dark. As soon as the sun fully set, there would be a campfire and closing ceremony. Abigail held her hand out and took a drag, standing up and moving to sit in Pickles lap.

“Wow, okay,” he said, not unhappy about this development. She was taller than him, but not very top heavy. He placed his hands on either side of her waist and smiled up at her. “You’re cute when you’re drunk. You’ve got some pipes. And Snakes N’ Barrels, huh?”

Abigail smiled. “Oh, yeah. Snakes N’ Barrels. Huge fan in high school. Always wore the tour shirts.” 

“It’s just that you knew all of the words,” He shook his head. “Sometimes even I don’t remember them. But Abby does.”  She rolled her eyes.

“Okay, not to be weird, but I did have all of the sheet music, guitar tabs, and learn to play guitar because of you.” It was like she couldn’t stop confessing all of her embarrassing little fan girl secrets to him. He started laughing.

“Sorry, it’s just that everyone’s always riding me so hard about how lame my old band was. How it’s so different from Dethklok. It’s good to know the key demographic, which is definitely just Abby, still reps classic Snakes N’ Barrels.” 

She shrugged. “I’ve worked in the music industry long enough that I don’t get star struck anymore. Wasn’t sure I could do that with you. So I kind of doubled down with being strictly professional. And also held boundaries with myself while we talked, because it was kind of confusing. Talking to you a lot recently helped clarify that it was a real friendship and not me idolizing you. Hope I didn’t make things weird just now.”

“Are you saying we’re best friends? Abby, are you and me best friends?” He wrapped his arms around her waist and wobbled her back and forth, still holding out his cigarette. “Cause that’s what I heard!”

“Yeah, we’re practically besties now.” He stopped wobbling her around, his lap still. “I tried to bring my A-game to Pickles Pumpkins and Vineyard. Show you how good a best friend I could be. I didn’t mean to throw up right in front of you.”

“Not public intoxication,” Pickles held a hand up over his mouth in feign shock. “If anything, I respect you a lot more. I don’t trust people who never puke. They’re robots and must be destroyed.”

“I’m definitely not a robot. I’m human. And your crazy fan. Now, let’s go see the closing ceremony.” She stood up off his lap and he got up behind her, following her down the staircase and to the courtyard where the closing ceremony would take place.

It was clamoring with guests, many of whom crowded around a raised stage where a band was performing. Pickles looked over at Abigail with a worried expression when he noticed the blaring music. “Are you OK? Do you wanna leave?” 

She shook her head. “No, let’s just walk farther away.” They ended up next to the enormous campfire, where a few people were gathered. It was far enough away that the ground wasn’t shaking from the roar of music over speakers. The flames from the campfire leapt and jumped up and down, casting them in long shadows. Everything was dark except the fire. Abigail stepped back towards Pickles and was relieved when he wrapped his arms around her middle. She parted her curls so they didn’t just smother him from behind.

“Can you even see?” She asked, since he was great deal shorter than her.

“Yeah,” Pickles reassured her. “I see this gorgeous, statuesque woman in front of me totally blocking my view. She seems kinda drunk or I’d ask her if she wanted to make out.”

“I’m not even a little bit drunk,” Abigail protested. She turned around to face him and bent down, lining their lips up perfectly before pressing a kiss against his slightly open mouth. Pickles moved her hair behind her shoulders and rubbed her neck with the perfect amount of pressure, that caused Abigail to instantly moan and deepen their kiss. His hands ghosted down her shoulders and arms, to her sides that melted against him more than willingly. 

Aware of the people around them, Abigail broke away and straightened. She smiled, having felt confirmation of what she’d suspected for a while now and tried to deny, up until they kissed. Taking his hand, she gently squeezed it. “Do you wanna leave together?”

“Yeah, lemme just call someone.” He held onto her hand tightly, as if afraid she’d wander off if he didn’t and leave him behind. The whole time they waited for his bodyguard to appear and lead them to the car, he stuck to Abigail like he was nervous about something.

“What is it?” Abigail asked him seriously. “What has you all worried like that?”

“Well, a moment ago, I didn’t have much to worry about with my band mates. But now I have to worry about how they’ll react to us being more than friends.” Ordinarily, that wouldn’t have made any sense. Except that Nathan proposed to her less than three months ago.

“Fuck, that’s right.”

“Yeah.” After a beat, he didn’t seem bothered at all, as if all his worry had just disappeared. “It’ll probably be fine,” he said cheerfully, pulling her into his side. “Can’t blame me if I want to keep you to myself for a while.”

“No, Pickles, I think being honest is probably better than not telling Nathan. Even if he’s upset with you. Like really upset with you.” Abigail tried to give him advice that would avoid another bitter feud from erupting between them.

“You’re right.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “God damn it. You weren’t supposed to like me back.”

“Sorry,” Abigail said, unsure of how to reply. 

“No, I’m thrilled. Fuck, I’m so happy.” He really did seem happy, despite his realization moments ago, and warring between unbound excitement and looking like he got hit by a bus.

“You can just come over to my place,” Abigail said. Since she genuinely did not want to step into that hornets nest.

“Yes, and I’m taking you all over,” He announced. “Whenever you feel up to it.”

She stared at him for a moment. “That could be good. For both of us.”

“Yeah! Hell yeah!” He pumped his fist in the air. As he fell into describing an array of plans for their future trips across the globe, Abigail fought to simply allow herself to be happy. Because if this was too soon, Pickles was a decent enough person to allow her to change her mind about anything. And that was enough to make this a good decision for her. So she decided to just be happy as he reverently kissed her knuckles, reaching out and stroking his beard with her fingertips, something unexpected but sweet taking shape between them.

[olderjodijournals]

Saturday, March 1, 2003

And the breakage curse lives on. Yeah, it took out the car’s water hose this time around, so Tom can’t dump recyclables today. Instead, he’s gone to Casa Grande to get a new hose and drop off the DVD that’s due back today. Before we get the truck running well enough to be licensed, we’re gonna end up having to put a ton of money into the fucking car!

Tom’s worried we may not be able to get a title for the green one. They fucked up at the DMV and wrote this truck off as having been crushed so if they won’t title this truck Tom will have to pull everything out of the green one and put it in the white one which, of course, will mean more delays. He’d have to rent a lift to pull the engine out as it’s not something people can do with their bare hands.

The woman at the site I got Alex and Eve and now Eve’s dress and shoes from, says she plans to ship Monday and will email to confirm. That will mean the stuff will come Wednesday or Thursday this time around and not Saturday.

Our other stuff shipped a couple of days ago, but it’s coming by regular mail which means it’s hit or miss. It may take us a few tries to get it.

Webshots took the money Thursday night, so I should be getting the mug on Monday or Tuesday.

Later…

Wow, the renters may not be home. There’s not one vehicle over there.

Anyway, I called Carolyn to see if she knew anything about Justin, but then Tom found stuff online saying that he got 15 years, plus a lifetime of probation. Also, it could take anywhere from 2-6 weeks to extradite him.

So she left a message while I was taking a nap, saying she noticed my number on her Caller ID, even though I didn’t leave a message, and said she’d be home all night. So I decided to call her. She talks as much as Paula, barely letting me get a word in edgewise, though she sounded quite nice.

At first I was a little wary about Mary saving my letters, some of which Carolyn’s got, knowing anyone could read them. But then I figured it wouldn’t matter if they did. I wrote nothing wrong or bad in any kind of way.

She doesn’t know exactly when Mary will be leaving, but my guess is that yes, this is it. Sometime this month she should be gone. The sad part of it is that she doesn’t know anyone in Florida, so she won’t be having any visitors there. Carolyn said she thinks they’ll pay for Mary to return to Arizona upon her release, but I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of them paying for transfers, though I’m sure they’ll allow her to make the transfer. She said she’ll let me know the minute she learns that Mary’s gone, but as I warned her, 90% of the time we’re online, so she’ll probably get the machine. Although it’s true that we really are online a lot, I probably won’t answer if I see her number cuz I won’t want to gab for an hour with her. That’s why I told her to leave a message and since she loves to talk, I’m sure she’ll have no problem with that.

She too, learned the hard way that the media’s never a friend, just like Misery had told me. She said all they do is twist her words. “Oh yeah,” I told her. “If you say pink, they’ll print blue.”

She surprised me by saying that she sent those bookmarks and religious things to jail. I thought she got them inside the jail. See, we can’t send stamps, we can’t send money, so this was why I automatically assumed that bookmarks and pamphlets were a no-no. If I’d known they were okay to send, I wouldn’t have sent them to Carolyn, but Mary never objected when I first mentioned my hesitancy in sending things that weren’t pictures or that were of odd sizes or that had multiple pictures like the religious pamphlet did.

She asked if I were Catholic and I told her I didn’t follow/practice any religion, and then went on to explain to me about a picture of the Virgin Mary with knives in her representing the sorrow she endured when Jesus was killed. Well, she sent this picture to Mary, but it got returned to her as “inappropriate.” We both had to laugh about that one.

She mentioned Mary’s mom being coo-coo with guilt which is good. I mean, it’s good that she recognizes she did wrong, but I don’t know if that’d necessarily mean it’d be a good idea for Mary to live with her. We both agreed Mary’s only faults are her poor taste in men and her running like she did, but at least Mary’s learned from it all. I hope so anyway, but we’ll find out by what guys she takes up with when she’s free.

She surprised me by saying that as much as she hated to admit it, Derek’s a good father despite the horrible way he treated Mary. The reason I was surprised was that usually, if it abuses the girlfriend/wife, it abuses the kids, too.

We also talked about Todd’s burning Mary and Michelle’s silent treatment. She too, tried to get Mary to stop writing Michelle, but as I reminded her, she was trying to get those pictures back of Gretchen that Todd has. Speaking of Todd, I learned something new about Todd too, though I don’t know why Mary didn’t tell me this herself. Maybe because she knew I’d chastise her for associating with him. Well, he supposedly spent 5 years in jail after being implicated in a robbery/murder in which charges were dropped. He’s still on probation, though I’m not sure for what. Anyway, as Carolyn was saying, and I totally agree with this, it could very well only be a matter of time before he gets picked up for something else. Something that could pull Mary down with him. See, I’m just not sure Mary gets it. I’m afraid that just like Paula, she might not break her old habits. Like I said before, it’s what she’s attracted to, not just what she attracts. She probably doesn’t even know it and would deny it if you even so much as suggested it to her, but she likes abusive men. It may terrify her, it may hurt her, but at the same time, she likes being punched, she likes being kicked, and she likes being called a worthless whore. It’s as sick as it is sad, but some people really truly do have this illness that attracts them to shit like that. In the end, though, it’s her life and she’s going to have to be the one to decide who she hangs with.

I was way surprised to hear her say that Texas and Florida are the two strictest states. Supposedly she got this from a cousin of hers who’s a sheriff in Texas. I thought the worst two were Texas and Arizona. Either way, I know firsthand that Arizona’s bad enough.

She said Mary constantly speaks quite highly of me, which was nice to hear. Mary’s so right when she says that you can know someone for years and think you know them inside and out, then they turn on you or dump you. This is why I tell myself, “I’ll enjoy the time Mary and I are friends,” rather than, “We’ll be friends forever,” cuz Mary may very well decide someday not to associate with me. If she does, she does, but meanwhile, I won’t be going anywhere. It’d take a lot for me to dump her. As long as I’m not pestered with the 1-3 visits a week I used to enjoy, or expected to gab by phone for hours, I see no reason to dump her. I’ve already told her we don’t like to have a lot of company and that I’m not the phoneaholic I was in my 20s.

The poor girl had to ride on the same bus with Monster, who said to her, “Mary, you were right. I should’ve listened to you all along,” whatever that means. Mary said she ignored him while some other girl yelled out, “Shut up, you monster!” Also, Mary gave a beautiful speech in court. She has a video with news clips on it, all of which I have yet to see.

Lastly, she doesn’t seem any more thrilled with her neighbor, a drunken guy. Something about him breaking her van window with a weed whacker that he’s too poor to pay for. She’d be too scared living in a rural, snake-infested place, though, she said, and of course, her husband Rick is quite ill.

As far as the car goes, we ended up both blessed and cursed. He never would’ve made it to Casa Grande and had to stop in Stanfield where there was just one more water hose left. Had the problem been what he originally thought it was, it would’ve cost $130 instead of $30, and that’s all well and good, but it’d be even nicer if our shit could stop breaking so much. He even had to stop and play phone at one point. He said there was tons of static so he went outside and wiggled wires around. It was fine when I spoke with Carolyn, though. We might each get our own cell phones and get rid of the regular phone altogether so we won’t have to deal with power outages, etc. If the number changes, I’ll give it to Mary and Carolyn, but I don’t know about Paula. Maybe it’ll prompt her to write for real if I don’t just like it did when we moved from Phoenix.

Monday, March 3, 2003

The fashion that I plan to put Eve in, along with the gold shoe boots, were shipped today, and the site I got Mei Li from answered my question of how long they plan to have the Esme doll I want on sale. They said they don’t expect the price to change anytime soon, so in that case, I’ll have it by the end of this month, beginning of next.

We looked around and found there are a couple more options for fencing. There are a range fence and a hybrid fence we may end up getting which will be better than strands of barbed wire. It’d be an even better dog barrier. Due to all the rain we’ve had, digging should be easy enough so we shouldn’t have to rent an auger. In fact, planting our 2 new bougainvillea plants and our 3 new oleanders was a piece of cake. Yes, we’re finally doing it; getting/doing things we’ve wanted to for so long! It’s going to take a couple of years, but those rentals will certainly be out of sight sooner or later. We’re only going to hedge about 150’ in back if even that. Since we never hang out at the very edges of our property, for example, it makes no sense to bother hedging it. Just so we can’t see them from the house and like 30’-50’ at the sides. That way, we can have privacy when we get a pool that may be off to the side of the house. After this, we’ll do a little planting on the south side to give us a little more privacy from next door, though we already have quite a bit. Large trees block their house from our view unless we walk way out towards the road.

We’re planting just inside the back wash closest to the house. We’re thinking we’re going to split this property in half when we go to sell, so it should be a rather appealing feature.

Wednesday, before we see Scot, we’re going to pick up a date palm and a queen palm for in front. We decided to landscape the front and do it up really nicely. Even throw in some petunias and pansies and maybe some other colorful flowers, but not till we get the palms stable and growing well. I don’t care as much for white, yellow and orange flowers. Especially yellow and orange. I’ll be getting mostly pinks, reds, purples and a little white for its brightness. Of the 3 oleanders we have so far, one’s pink, one’s red and one’s white.

Though our hedges will consist mainly of bougainvillea and oleander plants, we may throw in some junipers in line with the kitchen window which is where we can see the renters the most. They’re boring as hell, they don’t bloom flowers, but they grow tall, wide and fast which is what we’re after.

Tom also got the pipes covered with enough dirt that not even the biggest dog could lift them. Next, he’ll put a layer of cement over them. We might even get some pavers at some point. They sell them in Walmart’s garden section which we were at today, not to get plants but to look around and get ideas and prices.

Instead, we got other things. A caramel ice cream bar, peach-scented lotion, socks for next winter (not Hanes which turned all holy in no time), a pink sports bra, daisy paper for Mary whose favorite flower is the daisy, a simple, easy-to-use recorder that uses regular-sized cassettes, something we still have around here, and a smashing Barbie outfit. Yes, it is quite dazzling. It’s a rock and roll outfit that even came with a little plastic guitar, not that I cared to save it. I just wanted the fashion. The low-cut pants are long and wide at the bottoms like bell bottoms, and the top’s a halter that’s shorter on one side than the other. It’s turquoise with purple glitter. It glimmers brilliantly as you move it in the light. It came with purple thick-soled pumps. Some of my dolls have nicer outfits than I do!

Mary was so right when she mentioned in one of her poems that one can be happy in a dungeon without money. Meaning, no, money’s not everything and I’d gladly give up all material things and live with my husband in a noisy dive if that’s what we had to do to stay together. Love really is the number one thing. However, if you do have money to spend on fun things, it sure is a nice added bonus.

As far as Chris goes, this time I measured that damn doll’s foot which is 7”. She’s a biggie! Wednesday, I plan to take a little tape measurer with me into the store. I saw these cute little Barbie sandals I hope to get her if they have any that are 7” long. I know I’ll find something, though.

Later…

Just got an email from Tom. I got two letters from Mary waiting for me and something to be picked up which we assume is the mug. If it is, that sure was faster than the Little Buddy mug we got before Christmas.

We have revised bed plans, too. Tom found a site that sells that memory foam, but not the mattress. Just a pad that goes on top of the bed. So, it looks like what we might do is buy new inner foam to replace the worn foam inside the mattress cover at the side, then get an additional bed frame, all of which are adjustable to either twin, queen or king size. In other words, we’re basically going to try to split this king-sized bed in half. The airbags are separate, so they can each go in twin-size beds. We’ll have to either modify or get new covers too, which the airbags go inside. So, hopefully they’ll be identical twin beds side by side. The only difference will be that mine will have the memory foam on top and his won’t.

Anyway, if we can stop having to play “fix it” so often, we just may get ahead with things. As it is, we’ve been crashing a lot when we go online. We’re doing different experiments to try to figure out why and it looks like his computer’s the one fouling things up. When his is powered up, we crash. But it’s been down all night and I’m still connected to the net.

Tuesday, March 4, 2003

Sure enough, Tom did have to play fix it on his way home from work. He got a flat tire which he replaced in the bank’s parking lot. Because it caused him to be way late, he was able to stop at the PO as soon as they opened to get the mug which is exactly what I pictured it to be. It’s way nice, and after I get the Esme doll with micro braids (I still want to get her ASAP, even though they don’t expect her price to change soon), I’ll get the remaining 3 mugs I designed. I should have them sometime in April.

I also got stuff from the Humane Society, finally. They sent 15 address labels, though we won’t need them as much as we used to, and a notepad.

Mary annoyed me by enclosing a note to send to José in prison in Florida because I told her I wasn’t going to cater to her friends, but in light of the huge favor she’ll no doubt be willing to do me at the end of the year, I told her I did it, though in truth, and I know this is probably going to be one of the most dishonest, meanest things I’ll ever do, I ditched the letter. I’m not going to play messenger with some prisoner I don’t even know.

Anyway, I’m a bit tired today, thanks to the freeloaders and the damn DVD I so stupidly rented that’s got to be returned tomorrow by noon. We agreed to hang up the DVD renting, either in person or online and just get HBO which is way cheaper. I’m tired because I knew that if I let myself sleep till 1:00 like I could have today, I wouldn’t be able to go to bed early enough, nor would I be able to stay up late into the morning, either. I just worry they’re going to boom me awake an hour or two earlier than I’d like tomorrow. They were flying today and yesterday. Fortunately, they waited till after I got up, but they could boom by tomorrow at 8:30-9:00, and I don’t want to get up till 10:00. I’ll snooze till 10:15 or so, but by 11:15, we’ll be out the door. We won’t be able to see Scot till 1:00 which means we’ll have over an hour to kill. We’re going to be bored out of our minds. It’s not going to take us that long to buy two trees, a pair of shoes and a snack. Perhaps we ought to eat at a sit-down place.

It’s really cool to see all the different license plates on cars. Especially at this time of year.

Wednesday, March 5, 2003

We were crashing like crazy on the net, but lately it’s been fairly stable. We’re thinking it may have something to do with the static on the phone, but soon it’ll be gone anyway.

I’m also having trouble burning CDs and even more trouble getting them from my work computer to my MP3 computer, so we’re going to run a cable under the house so the MP3 computer can be connected to mine, his and the TV computer.

Mary finally filled a floppy up with her stuff, so I’ll be sending a disk to her aunt to hang onto as well as keeping one here. If we were killed in a car accident and the shadow men of Florida stole her book, she’d be out of luck, so it’s good to have her aunt have a backup, too. You never know, some guilty Myra-like character could get paranoid, thinking Mary’s writing all about her evil deeds and tear it up while she was at medical or wherever.

Anyway, we were both pretty tired when we got up. We could’ve slept another 2-4 hours between the two of us, but we’ll be okay. He got more sleep later on and I’ll sleep a good 10-11 hours when I crash (I hope).

Once again Scot was out. I saw some other guy instead. I guess Scot’s been sick, though who knows why he was out the last time, too. Damn, though! That will make a month and a half that I don’t see him, assuming he’s there on the 19th.

Just 15 more reports. Where the water was once flowing steadily, it’s winding down to a trickle now. Once we get down to 10, it’ll barely be dripping. Then 75% of my life will belong to God and 25% will belong to me, rather than 45% to God, 45% to the blacks and 10% to myself.

I managed to get Chris some shoes that fit. They’re 10s. They fit well enough anyway. They extend a little past her toes, but not too bad. They’re Barbie sandals I slipped over her socks that go well with her windbreaker and culottes.

We also got two palm trees! I’m glad to finally have them and to be adding color to this otherwise dull land. They’re now planted out front. I can see one from my office window and the other from the living room, the windows I see out of most. One’s a date palm I call Palma and the other’s a queen palm I refer to as Queenie. Palma’s definitely the better-looking one so far, healthier and fuller, though they’re both still quite young. The date palm is about 3’ high now and the queen’s about 5’. Queenie’s a bit droopy at this point. That one will grow 25’-40’ tall and Palma will make it up to 50’. They were $16 and $21.

Hopefully, everything we plant will survive. For a week or so we’ll be watering everything to get things stabilized. Between the palms is where the pond will go. I mentioned getting a cute little statue or figurine like people often do for ponds, and Tom had me cracking up when he asked if I’d get this one in particular he once saw of a little boy peeing. Now that would be a funny one. Then we could invite Mom and Mary over!

We still have plans to get junipers, bird of paradise and more oleanders and bougainvilleas, as well as some petunias for color in front since we’re doing the front up more for looks and the back for privacy, and we may even get a prickly pear cactus (saguaros are too expensive). You can make multiple plants from one prickly pear plant.

Thursday, March 6, 2003

We watered the palms, and I swear Queenie’s grown half a foot overnight! The other one still looks the same. One of the bougainvilleas went into shock, but we think it’ll be okay. That’s a common occurrence when something’s been replanted in a new place.

Got a letter from Mary postmarked the 4th, but whether or not she’s still here is a mystery to me. I have a feeling she probably is. I wish she’d just get moved since we know Teddy Bear won’t be returning while she’s there, and then I can get on with sending her stuff to her and with writing to her in a place where nobody knows my name. She enclosed a draft and that’s it.

I also got my fashion and gold shoe boots. The shoe boots are nothing more than another few bucks wasted. First, I had to cut the backs of them just to be able to slip them over the doll’s feet, then they looked all funny once I got them on.

As far as the fashion outfit goes, it all worked out okay, but I was pissed at first. That’s because Robin, the woman I bought Alex, Eve and this fashion from, told me that Gene outfits would fit Eve. Not quite. The back of the strapless gown has 3 snaps and not one could make it around Eve’s waist. She’s fatter, even though she’s an inch shorter than Tyler and her friends. Then I tried it on Alex and found I could snap all 3 snaps, but it was loose at the top where it goes above her boobs and under her arms. So, it ultimately ended up on Tyler. I could snap only the top snap, but it looks best on her and goes perfectly with her gold/pearl earrings. The very light blue gown has pearl teardrop beads, gold beads, gold threading, and gold stars. It’s very nice and I don’t regret getting it. It came with a chiffon scarf (I’m not using it or the gold boots) and a pearl necklace. I put Mei Li’s light pink strappy sandals on her for now till I can give her Sydney’s light blue ones to better match the outfit once I get that doll. I can see why I thought it looked white online when it’s really what they refer to as celestial blue. In regular daylight, it looks like the color it is, but at night, under my 60-watt office light, it looks almost like an eggshell white with a slight tinge of blue.

I know dolls may not be Mary’s cup of tea any more than women are, but I’ll sure have a lot of pictures to catch her up on by the time I get the bulk of her stuff sent to her.

Eve ended up in Tyler’s original business outfit – the black wool skirt and white blouse. Alex is in a satin cranberry robe which matches her lipstick and nail polish well. Mei Li’s just in her pale pink teddy.

I’m determined to get out of having to do CDs altogether. I’m having too many problems with it. I went to make new backups of my MP3s, thinking I was adding more and more songs to the CD till it was full, while it was really overwriting whatever was there before. I thought CD-Rs couldn’t do that and that that was only a CD-RW thing. Nonetheless, if all goes well, I’ll back all my stuff up onto my other computer’s hard drive. I don’t think even we could be so cursed as to have two hard drives fail at once. If I could do this, though, there’d be no need for CDs. The 5 things I’ll have on both drives will be my journals, my drawings, my journal cover scans, and my graphics and music. Then, if we get either a portable MP3 player for traveling or one in the truck, I can use my music CDs there.

Surprisingly, I didn’t sleep as long as I thought I would. I slept just under 8 hours after being up for just over 18, and sure enough, something woke me up for a second at 8-something. I don’t know what it was. I woke up a lot of times. It seems the Melatonin causes me to do that, so I think I’ll skip it tonight. Besides, my schedule doesn’t matter right now. In a couple of days, Tom will be on vacation, and he said he didn’t have a preference as to when I sleep. He’s going to be doing his own thing for the most part anyway. Things I can’t really help much with, like his cleaning his office for the millionth time so I can get in there to dust and vacuum. I expect he’ll just want to relax in front of the TV a lot, too.

Friday, March 7, 2003

Tom has to work tonight, then he’s on vacation.

There are now 34 weeks to go till the freeloaders are out of my life forever. About 238 more days left and about 161 in which Scot could show up here, but I really doubt he will. I hope not, but if he does, I’ll know that there won’t be 20- or 30-something more months in which he could continue to do so. So, I wouldn’t like it, especially if I was sleeping, but it wouldn���t be the end of the world either. Yes, there are many worse things than Scot popping in.

It dawned on me that you really can write to someone in prison from Estrella and get a reply, so I told Mary about the time I wrote Bob and got a response and suggested she give it a try.

Little by little it’s been warming up. Maybe that’s why there hasn’t been any activity in back when we go out to water the plants. The bougainvilleas are still in shock, but the rest of the stuff is fine.

Since I decided I don’t like flags enough to get more once the rest of the ones I have get old and tattered, the palms will be good for telling the direction of the wind like the flags are. Especially when they get bigger and fuller. It’s hard to tell the way the wind’s blowing with the bushier trees.

My prairie dogs remember me from last year. Both they and the rabbits are pretty brave around us, but the prairie dogs are definitely the bravest. I stepped up to an open window, and down on the ground just a few feet away, a cute little prairie doggie stood up on its feet staring at me. Then I went out and fed it.

We turned the heat off for the year which means it’ll get pretty chilly in the early mornings for a while, but we’ll live. The heat’s now not coming on till 4-5 AM.

To my extreme surprise, I was up 21½ hours and only slept for 6½, yet wasn’t tired when I got up. Maybe I’m finally getting to that point in life where I don’t need as much sleep, as is common with age.

Anyway, here’s a rather sad, sarcastic, yet to-the-point poem I wrote earlier.

Because of Them

Because of them, suffered great stress. Because of them, I could not live in peace. Because of them, I shed many tears of sadness. Because of them, I raged with anger and frustration. Because of them, I lost faith in God. Because of them, I was forced to turn on fans or music to drown out their racket. Because of them, I could not always enjoy being outdoors. Because of them, I had to sleep on a cold, hard floor. Because of them, I had to return to the city I thought I had escaped. Because of them, I could not live with my husband for six months. Because of them, the last six months of my pet’s life were stolen from me. Because of them, I was forced to eat overly bland or spicy foods. Because of them, I had no privacy. Because of them, I had to pee in front of others. Because of them, I could not wear my own clothes. Because of them, I could not sleep in my own bed. Because of them, I was forced to take cold showers. Because of them, I fell out of shape and gained weight. Because of them, I lost many hours of sleep. Because of them, I lost thousands of dollars. Because of them, I lived in a world of concrete and steel. Because of them, I froze my ass off. Because of them, I got the flu. Because of them, my newly straightened teeth shifted. Because of them, I was forced to interact with strangers I didn’t care to know. Because of them, I could not use my stereo, computer or other things. Because of them, I had to deal with even more noise and chaos. Because of them, I had to deal with some crazy, mean people. Because of them, someone stole my heart and broke it. Because of them, my husband also lost time and sleep. Because of them, I was humiliated, degraded and treated as a criminal. Because of them, I had to go places I’d have preferred not to go. Because of them, I live in the constant fear of reverse discrimination. Because of them, I can no longer trust the system. Because of them, I learned that corrupt cops aren’t only on TV. Because of them, I was forced to do things I didn’t want to do. Because of them, I learned many new things I didn’t care to learn. Because of them, I learned I was tougher and more capable than I thought. Because of them, I became friends with Mary and Rosa. Because of them, I have written and published things I may not have. Because of them, nothing will ever be the same again. Because of them, I WILL fight back if I am ever again legally railroaded.

I’m also going to put a copy of the letter I’m going to have Mary mail to Johnson in here.

Teddy Bear,

I have sent this letter in to Mary to give to you if you should return to Estrella while she’s still there because I’m trying to keep you out of trouble while I say what I wish to say to you, so please, if a sergeant should ever get a hold of this, just please make sure officer Johnson gets to read it, too. I want her to know just how much I’ve suffered on account of her rather poor conduct.

Yes, Teddy Bear, it’s me. Do you even remember me? The one you thought was too pretty to be a Jodi? The one you nicknamed Dawn? The one who called you Teddy Bear? The one whose heart you broke with your false promises of getting together a year after my ’01 release?

First I was hurt over what you did to me, but then I became angry. Especially after learning that there are other victims of your games and lies, which in a sense, is what’s inspired me to give you a piece of my mind. I had to do it, not because it can change the past, but because I hope it will cause you to think about what you’ve done and not make the same mistakes again. Life isn’t about avoiding mistakes altogether, it’s about trying not to make the same ones more than once.

So tell me, have you really simply wiped me out of your memory forever? And what about the property near my old place that was for sale that you asked me all about? Have you really forgotten the jokes we shared, the chats we had, etc.? Have you forgotten our joke about the dolls? Have you forgotten how I used to guess your name? I got new names for you, none of which begin with an R or would be appropriate to write.

For someone who’s considered to be pretty smart, I often wonder how I could’ve been so blind and dumb where you were concerned. And I thought you were oh so professional? Yeah, right! What kind of “professional” leads someone on the way you did with me? I know I wasn’t the only one and I know why you were transferred. I don’t want to “get you” and I don’t want to see you fired, but your behavior, looking back on it, was disgusting. Utterly appalling. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Don’t you ever feel the slightest bit of guilt? I was a human being you played with, not a toy. I had feelings, you know, and you really ran my head through the wringer. I was so, so hurt. I cried, brokenhearted for months when I realized you weren’t going to respond to the ’02 letter you told me I could send. No, I wasn’t going to leave my husband whom I love dearly, but I had hoped for and looked forward to some kind of relationship with you which you gave me every reason to believe would happen. Well, I guess it really is too late now, for I’m no longer even in Arizona. Now I know why you told me to wait a year after my release before sending that letter, too. As soon as you told me they had a 1-year policy, I became suspicious so I did some checking and found that wasn’t true. You only told me to wait, figuring I’d forget about you by then and how I wish I had, but see, you don’t understand the impact you had on me. It wasn’t just a crush I had on you, I fell in love with you and there was no denying it. One really can’t control who they fall in love with or how fast, nor does it matter if we don’t know the person too well, because I assure you, if I’d known what you were all about, I’d have avoided you at all costs. Flirting’s one thing, but must you tell people you’re going to get together with them when you know you won’t?

I busted my butt trying to breed you your favorite mice like I promised you I would, and what did I get for it? Totally ignored. The least you could’ve done was to call or write saying, “Thanks, but no thanks and I can’t make it to see you.” Instead, you blew me off completely as if I never existed. I mean, that was so cold, and you’re one of the last people I’d have thought would ever do such a thing. I thought you truly cared. I had no idea I was merely a game to you, and all on top of having to deal with why I was there.

I was there because I’m Jewish and I lodged a complaint against the wrong people with the wrong connections, unaware of the laws and my rights. I was tricked and manipulated by a public defender into pleading guilty for something I wasn’t even charged with and by the time I realized what had happened, it was too late, I was already convicted. And all for something I never should’ve done time for even if I had been guilty. Our old neighbors were black/Muslims, most of whom hate Jews, particularly them. They had section 8, were very loud, trashing our yard, etc., so we lodged a city complaint. They had a cop friend who typed a threatening letter, hauled me into the station, thrust it into my hands and asked if I’d seen it before. That’s how he got my prints on it. My point in telling you this is that first I had to deal with being set up and tossed in jail, then the media’s labeling me a stalking racist and having a field day making me their source of entertainment at my own expense with their fictitious tales, then you come along and shaft me all over again in a whole new way. There’s no excuse for what you’ve done. I trusted you, I loved you, and you used me while I was in custody. You, along with this corrupt cop and system, have really helped to shatter my trust of those within law enforcement in general and I have lost all respect and admiration for you. To me, you were very intelligent with such a vibrant personality and great sense of humor, but to you, I was a joke. Don’t worry, though, for I’ll be damned if I’ll always be the “woman scorned.” Little by little I’m overcoming the pain and emotional damage you’ve caused me and I will survive you, Officer R. D. Johnson, I will survive!

Saturday, March 8, 2003

It is such a beautiful, beautiful day out there. I have most of the windows open. It’s up to 78° inside the house. Naturally, the renters are out and about. We should see less of them as the temperature rises.

Tom’s now shoveling more dirt onto the pipes. Tomorrow he’s going to get cement, some posts and some fluorescent string. We want to put string from post to post as best we can so we know we’re putting the fences up in a straight line. He also thinks we can cut down from 120 posts to 80. He said he’s seen fences like what we’re getting with at least 30’ between them, so he’s going to get 8-10 posts or so and put them up in an area that doesn’t have a lot of brush to see how sturdy they are. This way, though, each post will have to be cemented, but that’s no big deal. It’ll save us a lot of money if we can cut down to just 80 posts. They’re 3 or 4 bucks each. The whole thing’s still going to cost $700-$900, but will be plenty worth it and a good selling point.

I finally got some serious sleep, too. I slept for 11 hours with no interruptions.

Poor Tom is still stuck. Wednesday he had diarrhea, so we picked up something for it at Walmart, and it worked alright. He hasn’t gone since!

I decided I would proofread the 1998 and 1999 files after all. I just won’t print them out when I’m done fine-tuning them. Together the files have just under 700 pages. I want to do about 10 pages a day.

I did manage to burn my MP3s after all too, by making sure I put a reasonable amount of songs on each CD. Each has a little over 100, and I figure every new 100 songs or so, I’ll burn a CD. Meanwhile, I’ll use the old set for traveling.

Sunday, March 9, 2003

Mary said she’d be gone the first week of March. Well, the first week’s done, so is she gone? I wonder. I don’t have any vibes either way. Meanwhile, all I can do is sit and wait till I’m contacted.

I got up at 3:30 to find Tom gone to Casa Grande. Today’s the day we should get the first of the fencing material. At last! I just hope we can get the whole thing done before the springtime bee swarms get here and before the snakes wake up. Of course, we’ll be dodging ants all along the way, too.

I’ve been waking up at 125 lately. Although I know it’s possible, I still doubt I’ll get below 120. I may not even get below 125, but I’m starting to suspect I will if only by a pound or two.

I decided to let my pierced ears close up. I simply never wear earrings anymore. I’ve never been big on jewelry as opposed to most women. It’s a pain in the ass. Earrings get in the way of my headphones. Hell, I don’t even wear my wedding band unless we’re going out. I’m not so into clothes, makeup, and jewelry like I was in the past. That’s more of a 20s single thing. Now that I’m a chunky, middle-aged married woman, it doesn’t matter so much to me.

Later…

And our shit keeps right on breaking. Yeah, today’s problem is that for some mysterious reason, I can’t get on the net. Tom’s been trying for hours to fix the problem but to no avail. He reloaded Windows and other stuff. He did find some corrupt system files, but getting rid of them hasn’t solved the problem. Meanwhile, the rest of the network is just fine.

Tomorrow, between 8:00 – noon, someone will be coming out to install the satellite uplink, and hopefully, though I highly doubt it, that will fix things and make them less complicated. The digital TV system I thought I was going to love and was going to be so easy to use and the program sucks as it is.

I’ll be asleep when the installer gets here and if they wake me up, they do, though I don’t think so. Not if I sleep with the fan on high. Also, the bedroom’s pretty far from the den.

Monday, March 10, 2003

Tom thinks he found the problem. Something he did messed up the whole network after all. Good, then instead of having to stop and be set back by having to play fix-it all day on my computer after setting up the new satellite system, he can clean his damn office which is trashed as usual.

Since bombing, the spiders have been non-existent inside the house which is nice. It’s still unknown where they were coming from. The drains? The vents? I only know I hope it was the drains because there’s no way anything that might’ve been living in there could still be alive at this point.

Later…

Tom fixed the network and will soon be working on the TV. The thing that was supposed to take less than an hour ended up taking 3.5 hours because as our luck would have it, we were sent someone who didn’t know what they were doing. I know I sound like the biggest sexist in the world, but fucking cocks! I swear 99% of them are so stupid. We need more women doing more things. They’re more patient and not so quick to cut corners and do such half-assed jobs. At least it’s done, though, and we didn’t get ripped off. It’s one thing to have people’s stupidity consume our time and another to have them eat up our money.

Our goodies came today. When I first saw the size of the box, I figured things were on backorder, but nope, they squeezed everything we ordered in.

The pink, rose-scented roses are in the big bath and the mauve, fleece-lined slippers will be great for next winter. This winter seems to have exited practically overnight. It got up to 81° inside the house. We’re getting really close to needing the AC.

The tool he got to clean my ear with seems to work great so far so long as I soften things up with oil first.

Got the blind cleaners, which certainly do seem like they’ll make cleaning blinds a lot easier and more effective and the state map with its state coin holders. In 1999, they issued Delaware, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Georgia and Connecticut. I’ve only got Georgia. I’ve got all of 2000 coins which are Massachusetts, Maryland, South Carolina, New Hampshire and Virginia. The states issued in 2001 are New York, North Carolina, Rhode Island, Vermont and Kentucky. I’m missing Rhode Island. For 2002, the coins are Tennessee, Ohio, Louisiana, Indiana and Mississippi. I’m missing Louisiana. I have no 2003 coins yet, but it’s only March. Arizona won’t be minted till 2008 as it’s the 48th state.

The filters are now in the vents too, and since they do a better job of sealing than the screens, I removed most of the screens.

The stuff came with some offers, one of which consists of a bunch of beauty stuff you can get for next to nothing. If you order $12 of stuff, you get free shipping and with $16 of stuff, you get a free 3-piece travel set and 10 free lipsticks. I got just under $20 of mascara, Ming Shu perfumed lotion, and 6 bath gels – peach, rose, blackberry, vanilla, lilac and lavender.

The pedals are terrible. Another $10 wasted. They’re of a better design, but they move all around when I use them. The things can’t weigh more than a pound or two. Unless we decide to strap them to the floor, I’ll just keep on jogging. Besides, I’m not trying to lose weight anymore but just stay the same. I don’t need to jog that long, on top of the other stuff I do, to stay the same weight as long as I don’t make a pig of myself. Who knows, though, maybe we could mount them to a heavy piece of wood or something.

At least the saw’s working. He got a chainsaw for clearing away brush. It’d make no sense to put up the corner posts and try to run string from post to post with brush in the way. The string, as I might’ve said earlier, will be our guide, keeping the fence installation in a straight line. We’re probably going to have a 30’ buffer on each side. The last thing we want to do is chance putting fences too close to easements or out of the property lines. Tomorrow he’s going to look for one of the back corner markers, but it’s likely to have gotten washed out over time.

I fed Shiny, the big black cat that hangs out here, some chicken today. He’s all black and shiny like the Phoenix Shiny was. I can’t let him inside, though, with the rodents and breakables. I don’t know if this cat’s fixed or if it belongs to anyone or not. I doubt it, though. I think he was dumped and left to fend for himself like most cats and dogs out here seem to be.

Also amongst the offers that were enclosed with our stuff was a landscaping brochure that looks quite promising, as well as a great value. Their Siberian elm hedges are said to grow to 45’ and as it is, we’re going to have to replace one of the bougainvilleas, though everything else is doing fine. It shocked so bad that we’re pretty sure it’s going to die, and gee, it’s quite a coincidence that it’s the one right in line with the renter’s little deck, the place I can see them the easiest. It’s like something’s saying, “You can run, but you can’t hide from society.”

Yeah, but I’m still going to try.

Anyway, Tom’s going to look into the landscaping’s website more thoroughly before we decide on anything for sure. The cool thing about it is that it tells you how many plants you’d need to make a wall of whatever feet wide. The elms are boring looking but with the way they could block the sun and give us privacy at that height, I don’t care. I only hope we won’t have to be dead for a century or two before they reach that height. All we need, though, is a good 10’-15’ to block out the renters. What we’ll need to do is find out how fast things grow and if they can live in Arizona. The site didn’t say much about the plants themselves, just the sizes and prices. Fortunately, though, Tom says elms will grow pretty much anywhere.

My God, though, I never thought I’d be buying trees! Not the girl with the food stamps from the inner-city projects amid the drug dealers and the rundown buildings littered with graffiti. Yes, I’ve certainly seen all financial levels. I was a rich kid who became a poor young adult who’s now a very comfortable middle-aged person. As I told Tom, though, we’d probably have a better chance of getting rich by suing one of the many people who fuck us over than by this property.

Because it’d cost many hundreds of dollars, speaking of money, to get a water softener/filter so we could drink our tap water, we decided to get a water dispenser. It’ll end up a lot cheaper than buying the 2½-gallon jugs we’ve been getting. For $100, we can get a dispenser with a 5-gallon jug. It has 3 controls on it. One for room temperature water like I usually prefer, one for cold, and one for hot. There’s a place here in town that dispenses water so we can fill the jugs up there for a lot less than buying these jugs from the grocery store. It’d cut down on the recyclables a lot, too.

Got 4 envelopes from Mary today. She asked if I could help her find a publisher in Florida, but like I told her, I couldn’t even find one for myself if I tried. Besides, I don’t want to be doing any more than typing for her and I already told her this. I have a full enough plate with my own stuff. I had no idea that the home improvements would steal so much of our lives, but it does. Then I have my usual responsibilities and my own writing projects. I can’t do it all for her anyway, and I’m not going to be like most people and tell her I’ll do stuff I don’t want to do.

Anyway, she sent me 62 pages of drafts and said she might be there for a month or two more, but even so, I’ll probably hold off again on the mail to her after the letter that’s going out tomorrow. I caught her up to date on things and enclosed some pictures for her. A couple of doll pictures and a few of our land and palms.

She also says she’s alone now and tickled pink to be enjoying the added peace and privacy.

Tuesday, March 11, 2003

Mary tried calling this morning. It came up as “inmate phone” on the Caller ID box, but he didn’t get to the phone on time. Tom said he thinks it was cuz she was about to be moved, but knowing her, she probably wanted something. Let me guess…she wanted me to contact a friend of hers with long-distance blocks? Either way, I’m getting tired of being used here. She’s worse than Andy! I swear I’ll be gone in a heartbeat if she pesters me on the outs. I don’t know. Maybe she was just calling to make sure I’m still alive, though I doubt it. Anyway, if she’s there, she’ll hear from me tomorrow or the next day. Also, there’s no way I’m going to get in the habit of letting her call. Those calls are outrageously expensive. That jail seizes every opportunity possible to make extra money.

I should have a better idea by tomorrow if she was calling about moving or not. If it wasn’t about moving, she’ll probably try again. If it was, then I probably won’t hear from her till she contacts me by mail from Florida.

It got up to 82° in the house. Getting closer to that AC! We put the grill in the skylight and pulled the den shades down behind their blinds.

I woke up at 124. I’m not too surprised about that, but I probably would be if I hit 120. I sent Mary and Dave a progress picture I took. Every few pounds I’m taking pictures. That ought to shock the shit out of them; me sending them a picture of myself.

Before I get to the landscaping news, it really hit me today that no, it’s no coincidence that people I’ve practiced my sick curse on have gotten sick. I did it with Scot, someone I don’t dislike, but don’t like either, and I did it when Mary pissed me off the first time at the casino. There’s also the time I healed Little Buddy’s illness. So, I figured if this modern-day witch could make people sick and heal animals, she might be able to heal plants too, and I took myself out to the very shocked, but not yet dead bougainvillea and did my thing. It’s a concentration thing, I guess you could say. Similar to Mary’s visualization thing. I know that although most of us have a basic psychicness to us, most people can’t do the things I do. Not in such detail and quantity, anyway. I don’t know if it’ll work as this is something new to me. I mean, I never tried to rescue a dying plant before. It won’t be the end of the world if it doesn’t make it, though. Tom put an oleander behind it today. A bigger one, too. Yes, we’ve been on quite a landscaping frenzy. Now’s the time to do it as well as in the fall. He also got about 30 petunias in pink, magenta, purple and white, and a few tomato bushes to plant in the midst of them which surround the palms. Lastly, he got a little strawberry bush which is off toward the side of Palma. I only hope the prairie dogs and rabbits save some strawberries for the rats and I!

The petunias, strawberry, and tomato bushes aren’t perennials. They’ll die in the winter, but they’re dirt cheap to replant. It was only like $1.80 for 6 petunias.

The big barrel cactus at the southeast corner fell over after all that rain we had, but that’s okay, I’d prefer prickly pears.

Tom checked that site out more and found we can get some pretty awesome stuff for dirt cheap. We’d never have believed that for just $240 we could put 5’–10’ Rose of Sharon hedges along the perimeters of the property, but we can! Maybe something isn’t so against us after all, as long as we can get the stuff shipped to Arizona reasonably soon and have it survive, too. We’re going to do a test and get Sharon hedges of about 80’ wide which will go between us and next door. We can’t see next door from in the house because there are no windows we can see out of on that side. There’s only the back door window and the bathroom window and they’re frosted. However, we can see part of their property from outside. We’ll need to run those skinny black rubber hoses around the perimeters for watering too, and water them every few days since they’re not native to Arizona (unless it rains). I don’t know if the Rose of Sharon hedges are really roses or if they just look like them. They come in purple, red and white and they pick the colors. I’m sure we’ll get a good variety and that they’ll all be lovely.

Later…

We ordered the trees and hedges online. We got so much for so little! For just $38.22, we got 16 Rose of Sharon hedges that will be 80’ wide, 5 poplar trees for shade in back between the house and wash which will be over 50’ tall in just 4 years, 12 elm trees for privacy that will grow to a height of 45’ and about 36’ wide, 1 very pretty and sweet-smelling English lavender bush that will get to 3’ and 2 tulip trees. I don’t know where we’ll put the lavender bush and tulip trees. I wanted a walnut tree too, but we’re in the wrong zone for that. I don’t know where these will go either. We’re also getting some free stuff with our order. Some flower bulbs, and a planting instruction book.

Assuming these things make it, we’ll order more at some point till we have all the shade and privacy we want.

We’re going to go back to planning to get barbed wire fences. That way we can use the extra money for the Rose of Sharon hedges. They should be thorny which will also make a good dog barrier, though the way we plan to string the barbed wire will be a good enough block in itself. I guess we’re going to put the hedges on the outside of the fence. It’ll be a very appealing selling point whenever we do move.

The only bummer is that they ship parcel post. We were hoping UPS would bring them right to us, but oh well. At least the PO has been more reliable.

Another thing we’ll want to ultimately hedge is that ugly well and water tank. That won’t take much at all, but the perimeters, shade and privacy stuff are way more important. Whether or not we’ll get any bird of paradise bushes, pansies, or any more oleanders and bougainvilleas, I don’t know. I do know I still want prickly pears.

Wednesday, March 12, 2003

Mary didn’t try calling back, so she either was calling to say goodbye, or she wanted something and found someone else to do what she wanted.

Tom cleaned my ear out some more with the earpick. It looks like we’ll manage just fine without having to deal with referrals and specialists.

Last night and today I did something on my office wall that’s way cool, though not without disaster. I made colorful silhouettes by shadow-tracing the outlines of the two Playboy dolls and Patrice, the queen of all my ballerinas. Victoria’s in purple, Karen’s in pink and Patrice is in blue. I stacked two speakers about 4’ from the wall and placed the doll on top. Then I made another stack about a foot behind it, using Sacajawea to prop the flashlight at an angle. Then I’d turn off the light to make my shadow sharper and would trace its outline. Yesterday went fine, but tonight I moved Patrice before remembering to do the inner section of lines and had a hell of a time lining her back up, then Sacajawea fell and broke from just below the elbow down. Fortunately, it wasn’t her head and I was able to glue and tape it, but how stupid of me! I should’ve used a towel or a shirt like I did afterward. I taped it with masking tape after gluing the sections that I glued, because there were tiny fragments missing that made it sharp and unstable. Taping it gives it extra security. It doesn’t look too bad but I’d rather have a funny-looking hand than no hand at all. It’s taped between her wrist and elbow and her sleeve covers most of it.

As predicted, the truck won’t be up and running anytime soon. Tom simply can’t get the title for the green one, so he’s going to have to set the white one up.

He fixed and installed the indoor/outdoor thermometer in the kitchen. The wire runs out through the oven’s vent. It’s 50° outside now and 75° in here.

Anyway, Tom met the renters today. When he was down there searching for that corner’s property marker, which he did find, it stirred the dogs up. I like what he had to say about them but was quite dismayed to learn there are at least 7 dogs back there. 7 dogs! He said there were about 3 adult dogs and 4 puppies. He couldn’t tell if any of the adult dogs had the puppies or not. Just that he got the feeling they intend to keep them. What surprised me was that most of them came from the house. He said they’re all mutts, not too big, and only one of them that they had in a pen outside, seemed like it could be more of a guard dog. I don’t exactly like the idea of swimming (once we get the pool) to the tune of 7 dogs barking, but he says it shouldn’t be a big deal, and after thinking about it I realized that maybe it won’t be. I’ve been outside enough lately and can truly say I haven’t heard barking from over there. After all, I sure as hell didn’t know there were that many of them. I thought they only had one dog.

So anyway, he can’t remember their names. The woman appeared to be in her late 20s to early 30s and the guy was mid to late 30s. He said they seemed quite nice and even were considerate enough to worry that they put their horse on our property and that their kids might be too loud (he only saw one 3-year-old, but we figure there are probably 3 or 4 kids in all). Nothing of theirs is on our property, though you could see old tire tracks clipping a corner of the property. They haven’t been throwing trash back there either which is nice, and as for the kids, I have heard a few shouts from outside, but nothing even remotely close at this distance to bother me. They could never be as maddening as the kids screaming just a few feet away from our old house for hours at a time.

Tom told them we were getting ready to put up fences and the guy offered to help which was nice of him, but Tom assured him he could manage. Remember, we don’t want problems with our neighbors like we had in Phoenix, but we don’t want to be friends with them either. All we want is to get along. Being friends with neighbors can be as bad as being friends/lovers with coworkers. Still, I really do appreciate their consideration, and it’s people like this that I’d consider being considerate of myself. The more someone’s considerate of me, the more I am to them, whereas if the blacks or Mexicans had asked me to tone down my music, I’d have told them to come back and ask again after they themselves shut up, and meanwhile, they could go fuck themselves. No black or Mexican could ever be like them. Very few of them could be anyway. They’re too me, me, me, me!

George still owns the place, the woman does ride the horse (though I’ve never seen her do so) and they’re planning on getting another one, and they hear karaoke parties at Dan’s place on weekends, though they certainly didn’t refer to it as “Dan’s place.” We didn’t even know it was karaoke, just that it was coming from Dan’s, but they’re closer to Dan’s and don’t have the 6” walls and dual-paned windows we have, so they can hear better. At first, I thought Tom was saying it was my singing that was mentioned, but then they said they hear guys that sound drunk. Well, I don’t sound like a drunk guy when I sing and I don’t throw the doors and windows open to purposely let the sound out for others to hear!

I can see why they sacrificed their housing. With 3-4 kids, 7 dogs and soon-to-be 2 horses to feed we’d have to live in a dump, too.

The Mexicans that were in the furthest rental took and dumped a bunch of shit across the street before they moved. Yeah, those Mexies are filthy people, that’s for sure! Tom said he could see stuffed animals, clothing, etc.

The woman obviously works, Tom said, because the guy told her she ought to hurry up so she isn’t late for work. This was at 1:00, so she might work second shift.

He says they didn’t look or talk Mormon and that they thought this house was vacant because they never saw anyone outside. I know we’re not outdoors much compared to most people, but I’m surprised they didn’t see us at least a few times over the year they’ve been here.

To sum it all up, although the high dog population isn’t comforting to know about, I do hope they stick around for a while as it really seems like we’ve been compensated for the shit we had in Phoenix. I’m just so glad we didn’t get Mexicans in there what with the way the illiterate junkies are invading the country, and you how it was for me for the longest time; I always had to get the blacks and Mexicans next to me. These are our first white neighbors since ’96, aside from Dan and the people after him.

Tom got a lot of brush cleared with the chainsaw and is going to pick up some posts and a hole digger today. Then we’ll set them in cement and see how they do. We’re now thinking of going with barbless wire to make it easier on his hands. As long as the thing will keep dogs out, get what you want, I told him, but if we ever do see a dog, we’re going to install a low-voltage wire that will zap them away. That’d cost about $150 if we do need it and will probably come out of the savings account.

The bougainvillea’s still in the same condition.

I asked myself if I’d go live on a ship or a submarine right now if I could. At first I was hesitant because I wouldn’t be able to shop as much, but on the other hand, it’d be a little hard for a bunch of freeloaders to get me thrown in jail in the middle of the ocean, so yes, I’d take the ship or sub. I still worry about that, too. Not the freeloaders but somebody somewhere. I know it’s only a matter of time before someone new makes my life miserable for years.

I added a couple more silhouettes. I did one of Lily, the bronze ballerina figurine, on another wall in my office. She’s in a reddish-pink color. Then I did a silhouette of Colette in green in the retreat.

Thursday, March 13, 2003

And so it came to pass that March 13th of this year begins the beginning of the fences! Yes, for just under $100, Tom got 25 posts today and put them up at 39’ apart across the front, leaving 6’-8’ for hedges. He said that all the posts, plus the wire, should come to around $550, $100 off of my vibe of $450.

The posts have bright white paint on the tops to make them more visible to vehicles. How wonderful it was to wake up and go outside to see the first of the fences installed. Tom said digging was a piece of cake. He’s going to cement all the posts, too. He realized, though, that if next door could have their posts so far apart, so could we. Theirs is probably a good 45’ or so, though it’s in shit shape. I don’t know why, but parts of it look like someone rammed a vehicle through it. Mexicans are stupid, though, so they don’t strike me as the type to do things right. In other words, the dumb shits probably didn’t cement any of the posts. Nonetheless, digging’s so easy, he says, that it would’ve been a waste of money to get an auger. At that, I was like, oh my God! You mean we didn’t waste money buying something that was either broken or useless to us – wow!

I wonder if we keep it unlocked if anyone will be brave enough to open the gate to ask us about property for sale around here or something like that. Especially at night. I mean, I sure as hell wouldn’t open gates. I could never know what may be in there hiding, waiting to pounce on me, like maybe some Doberman from hell.

Tom’s going to try to get the green truck’s title by going directly to motor vehicles tomorrow. Only one of two things could happen. He could either end up getting the title, or he could end up getting nowhere and being forced to set up the white truck. He asked me for my vibes, but I couldn’t sense anything. That’s mainly because I’m a doom psychic. I didn’t ask to be one, but that’s my strength within the psychic world. Not sensing good things. So if tomorrow’s going to turn out good and he’s going to get the title, I could never sense it. Very rarely do I sense such things.

I don’t seem to be able to help plants either, although those who have fallen ill at my wishful thinking are still a hell of a coincidence not to be ruled out. Plus the thing with Little Buddy. Even so, it still looks like it’s going to die.

I’ve learned that when I have paper jams if I just turn the paper around, it’s usually okay. Therefore, I may return to the back-to-back printing.

Tom told me a funny joke earlier that I enclosed in my joke file, plus I sent it to Mary. We agreed it’d be okay to send something every few days. The worst that could happen is that it gets returned to me and I resend it to Florida. I got 4 regular envelopes from her today and 2 big ones.

To my surprise, she wasn’t calling for a favor or to say she was leaving. She was just calling to call but said she hung up after a few rings, realizing it was early and very expensive. That’s cool that she understands that, though the phone could never wake us up and our schedule varies. What may be “early” for me this week will probably be late for me next week. I was worried, though, that she was going to get a little too carried away with asking for favors pertaining to those I don’t know. Emailing Chuck, her lawyer, a quick note along with her book is fine. It’s when she wants me to write to people in jail that I don’t dig or if she were to send lots of letters to type for others, but as long as it’s email where I don’t have to go buying more stamps, and as long as it’s not too often, it’s no problem.

I still worry she’s going to hang out with the same types of loser cocks once she’s free. Remember, it’s that illness some people have. She has a deep, dark craving to be abused. It’s what she likes, what she wants, what she’s used to. She never even tried to fight back most of the time Justin hit her. She’d just scream at him and try to get away.

She cracked the both of us up when she was bashing guys in general, saying that because she has no discrimination, she needs me to balance things out. Well, it’s true that she loves everybody as much as I hate everybody! Also, I’m as vulgar as she is not. For every 20 hardcore swears out of my mouth, she may say the words darn or damn once, but the thing that’s really cool about us is that we let each other be themselves. I hate people like Lora Edwards who bitched how much she hated it when I’d use God’s name in vain by saying the word goddamn. Not that she didn’t have a right to not like it, but people have a right to express themselves as they see fit. That’s why I can’t get along with most people. They either expect me to be like them or they assume I’m out to make them like me.

A part of me was glad to hear she was hanging up the fantasy writing. Not because it bores me or that she’s loony (maybe a little naïve at times) or that she should be ashamed or embarrassed by anything she writes, but because I have enough typing to do with her book alone, which she just learned she can’t profit from. I knew this, but she just learned that if you’re involved in a case, you can’t make money from it, so she may use an assumed name and have the proceeds go to her family. I think she should use a fictitious name anyway because then she can legally use people’s real names without being sued. All she’d have to do is put a disclaimer on the front of the book saying she changed names (even though she didn’t) and that anybody with the names used in the book is purely coincidental.

I was surprised to hear that she was worried about not hearing from me. I thought she knew that the only reason I was laying low was cuz I figured they could move her anytime and that my mail would only end up returned to me. Tom agreed it’d be okay to send something every few days. The worst that could happen is that it gets returned to me and I resend it to Florida. So tomorrow when he goes to do the grocery shopping, I’ll have him drop a letter in a box and she should get it Sat. or Mon. if she’s still there. Anyway, I still had to laugh when she said she was going to send the paramedics out and have them search all the Maricopa ranches!

Anyway, just after sunset, Tom and I went to Circle K for snacks. Some stupid fuck pulled out in front of us and I was so grateful there wasn’t a car on the other side of us so we could jump out of the way.

As usual, we had to stop and play leak with the car before we left. The cashier who was outside on her break mentioned it. He poured water into whatever was the problem this time around. “It’s a Ford, so it’ll make it,” the woman said, and it did.

Friday, March 14, 2003

The more of Mary’s book I type up, the more sad, sick and cursed I see she has been so far. Get this, after Justin punched her out on the street, then cut the electricity and tore off the screen door to their roommate’s house to get in at her, slapped her again, busted down the bathroom door to assault her yet again, she goes and forgives him the next day saying that she loves him and love forgives all. That’s sick! Totally sick. How incredibly sad it is to read how she forgave him for all this shit, then insisted that God sent him, her “soul mate,” to her. That’s some God she’s been worshiping and some soul mate. Sorry, Mary, but nothing up there likes you. Can she ever be brave enough to see and face that fact as unfortunate as it is? Nothing up there has anything other than evil intentions for her. Maybe that will change someday and I sure as hell hope so, but the first step is going to be in realizing and admitting that she likes abuse and she likes abusive people. As soon as that illness is recognized and dealt with, the sooner she can do her part to help herself by avoiding people like Justin, Todd and Clarence. She can’t make God send her a loving soul mate if it isn’t in her cards, but she can at least stay alone if her only other choice is to take up with an abusive person. With the way she’s been going, though, she’s going to actively seek, be it at a conscious or subconscious level, an abusive guy the moment she gets out. In fact, her love of being slapped, kicked, punched and abused is so intense that I’m surprised she doesn’t request general pop. On the other hand, this type of disease usually pertains only to those the sick person is intimate with. It wouldn’t be the same if some fellow inmate took a swipe at her. It wouldn’t give her the gratification it would if it was a lover.

Nonetheless, it’s too obvious that she liked every minute of the abuse given the number of times she allowed herself to be abused by forgiving him, which essentially, was telling him it was okay. The only thing she didn’t get off on was the abuse of her kids. Yet still, her love of abuse was so much more powerful than her fear for her kids. Imagine that! To love to be beaten so much that it’s worth it to you to put your own kids at risk! And this is an otherwise compassionate and intelligent woman. I believe she really truly was scared at the times she was abused, but that was part of the thrill, the adrenaline rush she got from the fear. She’s what’s known as a fear junkie and a pain freak. I just can’t fathom it, but I know she hasn’t changed. Not when she’s still associating with people like her mother, who in a sense, was worse than mine. Her mother’s not her mother any more than mine was, but merely the woman responsible for her being born, yet people continue to obsess over biology.

She has no self-respect. She may as well go into a bar with a shirt saying: Buy me daisies and I’ll be fond of you, beat me up and I’ll love you forever.

It’s like all she knows is abusive men and having kids for them to abuse as well. I wonder how many kids she’d have by now if she’d never been to jail. Well, either way, I sure am worried for her future kids, that’s for sure.

If she were still alive, she’d still be with him today if the two of them were never jailed. She said it herself in her book: “True love forgives all error and I’ll be with you, Justin, no matter how much right or wrong you do.” Even if he killed all her kids by now, she’d still be with him.

After waiting forever in line, all the MV did was give him a number to call that doesn’t look at all promising for getting the title, so he’s going to make the transfer. I knew he’d have to anyway. Anything to eat up his time so it seems. I never realized just how much time all the home improvement and other projects would take up once we moved, but I should’ve figured as much. So see? Better to be just friends or else I’d still be going through the same old shit I went through with him in the past as far as being neglected goes. Anyway, it’s not that I can’t get off, it’s that I simply don’t want to. Not with him anyway, but maybe someday with a woman. I can’t see it happening anytime in the near future, though, so who knows? Maybe I’ll end up celibate for the rest of my life. Not something I could’ve handled in my 20s, but now that I’m older, had the experience, and no longer find it anything new or exciting, it’s okay. I think a lot of people end up feeling as I do.

Now that I’ve learned so much about the laws out here, Larry’s damn lucky he didn’t live here in ’97, cuz believe me, I don’t think he “blacked out.” I don’t see how you can blackout just cuz you got a little cough. I really think he was on something that night if he didn’t fall asleep at the wheel, and like I said, there’s no way he’d have gotten away with it out here. They probably felt too bad for him to check for drugs or alcohol, but out here he’d have been given no pity, no mercy, no nothing. He also took it awfully hard. Any parent would have guilt, yes, but “I murdered my son, I murdered my son,” was all he kept saying for the longest time. Well, maybe he did, though certainly not intentionally.

Sunday, March 16, 2003

There wasn’t any money left over from Friday’s grocery trip, so I won’t be ordering that Esme doll on the 21st. Definitely at the end of the month, though, and instead of ordering the mugs at the end of the month, I’ll order them in early or mid-April.

It just started raining. The new plants will like that.

I got to thinking about how Mary surprised me by saying she was going to demand to be housed alone in Florida and that she was housed alone before because I thought she had told me they didn’t have Ad-Seg there which struck me as odd. All jails have to have some form of segregation, I’d think. Anyway, I think she’d be crazy to go general pop, and I’d be surprised if they even let her with her high-profile case. And especially in a state where more people would know about it. As long as the media’s going to be allowed to open their big mouths and endanger people like Mary, they gotta have Ad-Seg. Most people will feel bad for her and be on her side, but every so often she’d be up again a Nancy K who’ll see her as just as guilty for not protecting Gretchen.

The bougainvillea’s still alive. I’m trying again to put a spell on this bitch of a rat here. For Tom’s sake, I’m not doing death spells, just sick ones. If I have this gift, ability, power – whatever you want to call it – I may as well hone it as best I can. I’ll ask Mary if she wants me to try to make anyone she knows fall ill.

This morning we made my music computer part of the network, though we needed to get a newer, faster network card. They’re only $10, though. Tom said that it’s best to have backups on at least two different mediums, so I’ll still back up to CD once a month, but only on one CD instead of two. Meanwhile, I’ll send stuff to my music PC on a daily basis. At the end of each day, I’ll send whatever I’ve done during that day.

Tom’s going to visit his mom tomorrow, give her some puzzles I don’t want, and do some mooching. In other words, he’s going to see if Mom will pay for the grid fence, but I doubt she will. As Catholic as she is, she’s too selfish to volunteer that kind of money which would be over $500, even though she could easily afford to. It takes a crisis like when the well went out in order to get more than a measly $20 out of that woman. She’s as obsessed with the $20 bill as Mary’s obsessed with the camera.

He picked up the water dispenser today. It only does hot and cold, but all we have to do is turn off the cold, for example, and there’s my room temperature water. It also has a mini-refrigerator below for cans of soda. This thing would be ideal for offices, but in our case, it’ll save us $50-$100 a year. Not a huge sum of money, but it’s something.

We also now have all the posts we need (59). I believe him when he says wire wouldn’t be a settlement and that it’d be just as effective at keeping dogs out, but I’d still prefer the grid. They call it a field fence, I guess.

Let me guess, though, Mary will bitch about my jumping the gun in Mom’s letter, and Tom will defend her. I don’t know what it is with this man siding with others, especially to their faces. Art O. defended his wife at all costs, even when she was clearly in the wrong, yet I could be clearly in the right and my husband won’t always defend me.

Another thing that bothers me is his answer to a question I asked earlier. I asked him, if a woman were sexually neglected by her husband or boyfriend, say if he had a lot of business trips or whatever, and the woman stepped out on him, be it with another woman or not, would he A, blame the woman and say she was responsible for her own actions, B, blame the guy for being neglectful, or C, blame them both. My answer is C, cuz to me, it usually takes two to tango, but his was A. I was like, my gosh, you mean you wouldn’t feel the least bit guilty? Not that I intend to step out on him, but that really bothered me. He didn’t even feel guilty in the past either when he was jerking me around about the child I once so desperately wanted. I don’t like the way he’s assumed things about me and taken certain things about me for granted. In a sense, he’s expected me to give up so much for him. I have to wonder, is he ever grateful things turned out the way they did? Because most women would’ve walked. There’s no way he could’ve just expected them to give up a kid on account of his lame excuses, and put up with the lack of sex. That’s assuming and expecting too much of most people. I know he’d have been a good father if we’d had an accident, but that will never change things, though the past is the past. He’s handling the sex the same way he did with the kid; instead of coming out and admitting his lack of desire, he’s saying one thing and doing another. In other words, he’ll say he’s interested, then not make a move on me. He also places an awful lot of blame for his problems on me. I know he knows he’s not perfect, but to blame things I may’ve said or my attitude on his lack of cumming was really bad. He should’ve said, “I have a problem, it’s been years yet it’s not improving, so I should see a doctor if I want to cum and have a child, or I should just level with my own wife here. I owe her that much.” But instead, he strung me along with one excuse after another to tide me over between crying spells. Sometimes he was compassionate, sometimes he was sensitive but never guilty. The man seems to rarely ever feel guilt. It’s like he’d rather directly blame or imply it’s someone else’s fault. I still can’t believe to this day that he simply expected and assumed I’d just forget about a kid. Well, I did, though I don’t think I could ever fully forgive him for how he handled things in the past (I’ll certainly never forgive God for the depression and mental anguish he sat back and watched me suffer through for years). And now he just assumes I’ll live a life of celibacy whether or not I want to cuz he can’t come out and tell me the truth. Well, mark my words, if the opportunity ever does present itself between another woman and myself, I’m going to go for it, though I can’t see that happening and I don’t want it to. So you see, it’s not his lack of desire to get it on with me that bothers me, for I don’t desire sex either, it’s the not coming clean about it.

Back when he told me that the “cure” for his lack of cumming problem was for us to not talk about it, well, any decent therapist would say that that’s the worse way to handle a problem. Facing it is the best way, not ignoring it. Ignoring it won’t make it go away, but that’s just what he hoped would be the case. Not that his problem would go away, if it ever really was a true problem that was out of his hands, but that my desires for normal sex and a kid would go away, and believe me, I wish they went away in ’93 rather than ’98. But those aren’t things we can help. I couldn’t help wanting a kid back then and I can’t help not wanting one now. I’m only glad that the desire did go away in light of the circumstances. Besides, for every one mother I’ve met who’s praised motherhood, there are 20 who bash it, saying all it does is cause you pain, ruin your body, steal your life eat your money. “Hang onto your life and your money,” they’d tell me, “and keep your cute little figure.”

On the flip side, he’s more than made up for any faults he has with the things he did give me that I’d never have had the chance to experience if it weren’t for him.

He agreed with me that not having kids so you can have a life isn’t being selfish as some might say it is. What’s selfish is those who have kids that either don’t really want them or aren’t emotionally or financially ready for them. That’s both selfish and irresponsible.

Later…

Even on this damp, cloudy morning, the hunters are at it. They still shoot from sunup to sundown, and while I wouldn’t exactly describe them as obnoxious, I wish they’d give it a rest for the year. Hearing these little pops that sound like car doors all day gets old, though I do tune most of it out.

Later…

Sure enough, his cheap selfish mother didn’t pitch in anything toward the fences. Not even her famous $20 bill. This information was emailed to me from work, so if Mary or Mom started shit about me to Tom, I have yet to hear about it.

I also got an email from Mary’s lawyer in response to Murphy’s pictures I sent saying, “Wow, he is really grown up, thanks.”

We read together for a little while yesterday and discussed plans we have for around here. I got a great idea concerning the pond. At first Tom was skeptical, but after going out to take measurements, he agreed it could be done. Well, inside of having the pond out across the wash, making it hard to see into even though the house is elevated a good 3’ off the ground, I thought it’d be cool to have a long skinny pond close to the front of the house running alongside the living room and office windows. It’d be totally awesome to step up to the window and look down into a pond! It’ll also shade it from the afternoon sun.

We also busted out a lower shelf from one of the lower kitchen cabinets, allowing us to put our pails in there. That way they’re out of sight and the smell’s contained. I also won’t have to worry that certain eyes hired by the state to ensure I live my life according to their rules will see any mail from Mary. I used to make sure it was buried under other trash during the weekdays, but now it won’t matter. It probably wouldn’t matter even if it was still exposed since I doubt he’ll ever come here again, but the better my ass is covered, the safer I’ll be.

Last night while I was searching for MP3s, someone emailed me saying, “You’ve been busted as a leech and ignored!” (I did not have any music files set up to share) At first I thought it was the program itself, but Tom told me it had to have come from an individual. Nonetheless, I loaded a lot of my music on since I don’t mind sharing and it’s always neat to see what people want. They’re certainly coming at me more often now that I’ve got more files. I made two music folders. One for the slower stuff I don’t want to jog and exercise to, and then a folder for the more upbeat stuff. The upbeat folder is the one I’m sharing, though I may set it up to share both. I have a total of 794 songs right now. I’m very generous when it comes to my music and graphics, but with all else on this computer, I’m a stingy, selfish bitch. As selfish as his mother (at least she didn’t abuse him and pawn him off on other people, camps, funny farms, etc.).

It rained on and off throughout the day. Every time I think it’s not going to rain again till the monsoons, it does. Even the hunters called it quits early. We haven’t needed the AC for the last couple of days either.

It’s looking more and more like the fences are definitely going to be up sometime next month. I can’t wait! So my vibe was right all along about it not being much before I had 6 months left to go with the freeloaders.

Amazingly, despite being stuck for a couple of days and eating like a pig, I awoke at 125½. I really thought I’d be 128. Rather than having one big goal and telling myself I want to get down to 105-110, I think I’ll have multiple little goals. For starters, I’ll work at a goal of 120, though I doubt I’ll get much lower than that without nearly starving myself to death due to my age and muscle weight.

Monday, March 17, 2003

It just hit me that Mary shouldn’t have the Teddy Bear letter with her in Florida since they’re not allowed to take anything other than legal papers, so I’ll have to make sure she writes that she discovered that they missed it once she got settled in Florida and thought she should have it.

Later…

It never ceases to amaze me just how much I’ve been woken up in this house, and even more so, how much I’ve been put out by other people’s animals! Something woke me up for a second yesterday and the dogs tore into our garbage. They wake me up, steal my peace and trash our yard! I should’ve insisted he bring the trash back into the house when he brought it out and saw it was too windy to burn. Despite adding two tires to the umbrella stand that’s filled with water as a cover, and just as I feared they would, the dogs toppled it over and got into the trash, spewing it all over the fucking place. It took me quite a while to gather it up. It had been super windy and at first, I thought the wind toppled the tires and stand over till I saw that the trash was all torn up. Nobody takes care of their fucking dogs out here! They bring them out here, decide they don’t want them for whatever reason, then turn them loose to depend on trash and shit like that. I left a message for Tom since I’ll probably crash before he gets up, letting him know that we need to either dig individual burnholes or dump the trash in the city till the fences are up, and also, I worry some of the giant dogs will jump over the fence out of sheer desperation alone. He said they wouldn’t since they had plenty of other land to roam, but if I were a starving dog who knew there was trash to pick through in here, I’d jump over whatever hurdles may be in my way. It makes me think we should spend the extra $150 on the zapping wire, but that’d be worthless against the big dogs if they do manage to hop on over as they wouldn’t need to touch it. Still, I wish we could have one strung low enough to zap little dogs from squeezing through and one up top for big dogs.

As far as what woke me up, I think Tom stupidly put the pot the oleander came in down without batting it down well. The wind apparently tossed it against the house. I found it in front in the brush. I put it where it can’t blow around and get whipped against the house.

In case I forgot to say so, I changed my email address. Feisty Dawn is now the rat lady. I’m ratlady1204, to be exact.

Tuesday, March 18, 2003

I ended up having to wake Tom up to burn the trash yesterday, as yet another new dog in the area managed to push the 3 tires and umbrella stand off and dive into it. Big dogs like that can move pretty much anything a person can move. I was gonna burn the shit myself, but knowing how much he likes to be in charge of that, I had him do it.

Now here’s where it gets weird. Real damn weird. I watched Tom burn the trash from the window and I swear I saw him talking to himself. Actually, it looked more like he was talking to someone else, someone invisible. When I asked him about it, he denied it which made me wonder which one of us was going crazy.

I’ve also sworn I’ve heard him talking to himself in the bathroom which he says he never did either, but I know what I saw. Would he deny something like this? And why? Could he be doing it without realizing it? I sure hope not! To each their own, but the thought of people talking to themselves has always made me rather uncomfortable. It just seems like you’d have to be a bit ill to do so. Yet this is a man who’s smarter than 90% of the population. Too smart for any head problems.

I slept an uninterrupted 10 hours.

No plants yet, but Tom emailed me to say I have one big envelope from Mary. Hopefully, she’ll now be able to tell me when she’s leaving, but I hope there are not too many drafts. I still have 80 pages or so I’m trying to catch up on here. I hope my mail to her doesn’t get returned. I’m still hesitant to send more mail there. We’ll just have to see what she says, but if I don’t, I hope she’ll understand why. I told her why I was going to hold off mail in the first place which makes me wonder if she didn’t get the letter saying so. I absolutely hate it when she doesn’t answer all my questions cuz then I get all worried that someone’s tampering with the mail and all that. I was also surprised when she asked me to send José her letter, cuz I made myself clear about doing for her friends in a letter and she never struck me as the type to not listen well. It makes me awfully uncomfortable to be sending mail to an inmate I don’t know who could be in for anything. She doesn’t even know what he’s in for and see, she’s got to let go of people like that. She’s going to convince her PO that she likes “bad boys.” Meanwhile, sending emails, as long as I won’t have a lot to type up, is okay. For the most part, though, I just want to be her friend and her typist. Not her editor, publisher, messenger, etc.

Later…

Still nothing saying when Mary’s leaving, but I sent her a letter anyway. She definitely got the first one and probably the second one too, which was mailed on the 14th. However, we’re wondering if a letter from her to me didn’t make it because she said she commented about my drawings and Chris’ picture after I asked her again.

She agreed to send Teddy Bear’s letter and would be honored to let her know she sucks. I figured she would, but I’m still so grateful to her for doing this for me. Tom’s just too paranoid about me sending it myself. I’m still going to mention having moved in the letter. Her sergeant’s knowing about it should help keep her from getting any smart ideas too, cuz if something happened to me, it’d be too obvious she was behind it and they’d be there to testify that she was pissed over the letter which she no doubt will be.

She said her aunt got the disk and that Brandi requested that Virginia move in with her and she was ever so happy to see her go. I was like, awe, how sweet, two killers all locked up tight together!

She was all stressed and depressed over her aunt’s letting her have it over excessive money spending. Yes, the bad boy lover sent Clarence $45 of roses for Valentine’s Day. She got her roommate’s family to do it and she paid for it with commissary. She cried that she was a shopaholic who’d blown $550 since December. I told her, “Although I feel for you, I had to laugh at the same time when you were talking about the money you’ve blown. Yeah, I’m a shopaholic myself, but $45 on a loser like Clarence? Come on, girl, you can do better than that! I thought you weren’t romantically interested in him anyway. Also, we’re ahead of you. I think we’ve blown a few Gs since December.

I don’t want anyone other than her aunt to know where we live and to bring her here to visit once she’s out. Not while she knows too many losers. I don’t want her coming here with a different loser each time she visits, bringing potential trouble to the house. She’s simply too nice and too trusting, and she obviously isn’t going to break this wild attraction for bad boys anytime soon, so it seems.

She still wants any pictures she can get a hold of for her book. Even Justin’s mug shot. “Who cares if he looks like crap,” she said, “he is crap.” I’ll send it to her in Florida. Speaking of her book, she really does have a point that I never considered. She feels it’ll be no problem getting it published not because of how well-written it may be, but because of her name. Unfortunately, the girl is rather famous.

“I wonder what Andy thought when I was in the news, even if it was only for a few months,” I said to Tom. Tom doubted he knew about it, thinking he’d try to visit me at the jail out of curiosity, but no way. There’s no way he’d be that curious. Besides, he was so pissed that I dumped him. Not hurt; pissed.

She says most inmates label her greedy. Yeah, the spoiled little shits love to label those who refuse to be responsible for them as stingy, selfish and whatever else they can think of. It really is true that most inmates have shit for brains. The immaturity in that place was astounding. It was just like being in school all over again. The stupidity and childishness were sickening.

Yeah, I figured she’d like the daisy stationery like she told me she did. Daisies are her favorites as tulips are mine.

Fortunately, she only sent a few draft pages as I still have a ton of pages to type. Like 85 of them.

The wind is blowing strongly towards the east. Too windy for opening windows that face west. It’ll just cool the house down too much and bring in dust. Therefore, I opened a couple of windows on the east side. That way the air will get sucked out. It smells of the chemicals I used to clean with and it’s making me tight.

I asked Tom if he thought Scot would be back tomorrow. Yes, he said, and I agree. It’s too bad too, as I was enjoying the break from having to hear how much time I have left. If I think that’s bad, wait till I have to hear about the poor, poor “victim” around May 1st and probably towards the end, too. He’ll find some reason to bring it up again at some point, I’m sure. I’ll surprise him, though, this time around when he tells me how much time I have left because I’ll be quick to tell him there are now 226 days.

Wednesday, March 19, 2003

It appears the new house in front now has electricity. I can’t swear to it, but I think the light I see is coming from that house.

In about 4 hours, we’ll be seeing Scot. I no longer let myself get nervous prior to visits. Not just because of how much time’s left, but because I’m sick of giving Scot credit he doesn’t deserve by allowing him to intimidate me. He can’t do anything to me, I tell myself. He’s just a simple person. While I may not be invincible, he has no power or control over me. He may think he does, but I know better and I’m not going to see him as an “authority figure.” He has no hold on me, for as far as I’m concerned, my life now belongs to me and me only. Doesn’t mean I can always get the things I want in life, it just means I’m nobody’s puppet anymore. I put in over 37 years of being someone or society’s slave and I won’t do it anymore.

Anyway, Tom got two 5-gallon water bottles yesterday. When one gets low, he’ll take and fill the other. It has pretty little lights on it, too. Green is the power light, red is the hot water and then there’s this pretty bluish-purple light for the cold, though the hot and cold only come on when the thermostat kicks in, very much like a refrigerator. Also, the space down below is not a refrigerator. It’s just a storage space for things like cups.

The spell’s a bust, too. The bougainvillea’s dead and the bitch isn’t sick. Is it just people I can place spells on? Or were Mary’s and Scot’s illnesses just coincidences?

Tom and I were talking about different states as far as population and prejudice go. Arizona has one of the smallest black populations, he told me. Not small enough, though, to save me from their wickedness.

We filled in the burn hole and agreed to do individual burn holes till the fences are up, and ultimately, we’ll get a barbecue pit. So, that’s one less thing I gotta worry about.

Although I look forward to Mary visiting someday, I felt it best to tell her up front that I don’t want anyone other than her aunt to know where we live while she’s on this bad-boy kick. Until that streak is broken, I don’t want potential trouble at the house. If there’s ever a time when she develops a little self-respect and has been with a guy for several months to a year with no known record and who’s never taken a swing at her, then we’ll see.

I also reminded her that I’m not single and in my 20s anymore. In other words, I’m not going to want to go to parties, go to bars, or hang out with lots of people. I’m a homebody and not a people person. I even hate to gab on the phone as much as I used to, I told her.

Anyway, I’m only telling her this cuz I think it’s only fair that she knows up front and doesn’t get released thinking I’m something I’m not. I figure she probably knows all this anyway from my letters, journals and book, but I still wanted to be upfront in advance. Besides, not everybody gets what they don’t want to hear. I’m not saying she’s like this, but take Andy for example, who refused to see the obvious; that I was a better guitarist than a pianist because of his overwhelming desire for his friends to be carbon copies of himself.

My visiting rules are simple, I told her – no smoking in the house and no small kids. This house isn’t childproofed, and I have too many breakables. I told her how I once told this to Evie and how she told mom she wasn’t happy about it (cuz she didn’t have the guts to tell me), and mom wasn’t happy about it either, and that I was like - tough shit! It’s our house and we have a right to ask people not to do or bring certain things into it just like others do with their houses. If Mary told me not to chew gum in her house, by all means, I wouldn’t and she’d have every right to tell me so. You can tell me not to wear the color pink for all I care, but I’d be obligated to respect that without taking offense. So, when she has more kids (and I know she will since she doesn’t seem to know the meaning of the words birth control) and they’re in their terrible twos, I’ll have to go to her place when she can’t get sitters. My attitude is pretty much – kids are kids and they have a right to be kids, just not at other people’s expense when it can be helped! Just because I don’t want any of my own doesn’t mean I hate kids or anything like that, cuz I don’t. They’re sweet, they’re cute, I just prefer them to stay in other people’s houses at least till they get a little older and understand the meaning of, “don’t touch.”

I was shocked to read she visited Monster at Estrella. I didn’t know this, though I knew he’d pretty much been getting in trouble with the law practically ever since he was in diapers. Also, his whipping his dick out like he did in the closed visitation booth to tell Mary it misses her was absolutely disgusting. What kind of class could a person like that possibly have? What a sickening thing to do, too. I mean, that’s nothing more than a man degrading men in general by doing that, and personally, I’d have been thoroughly embarrassed, but more so, I’d be embarrassed for him, then I’d walk out and never see him again in my life.

I suggested that if ever she gets the desire to “live dangerously” and on the edge with a bad boy, to remember all the suffering she and her kids have gone through on account of those bad boys and ask herself, is it worth it? Is it really worth the danger and excitement? I mean, she talks about writing the book to help others, well, what about helping herself first?

Later…

Oh, that fucking breakage curse! It just never ends. He was forced to do God’s favorite pastime for him, playing car. First a headlight went out, and of course there’s the power steering fluid that’s leaking. So he got a pump for that today, but now he says he broke a part and doesn’t know if it’ll get him to work tonight. This car is gonna cost us hundreds before we get the white truck running and licensed! See, I knew we’d be delayed with the fences. He planned to work on them this weekend, but he obviously won’t be able to if he’s going to be forced to stop and play car. Why won’t God just let us get ahead in life? Why must there always be so many setbacks?

To our surprise, Scot’s still out. All the PO covering for him would say was that he was on medical leave. Tom thinks it’s something like a knee or a back problem. The PO, some tall skinny dude, asked if I were “just a housewife.” Yeah, that’s all I am. Not much, huh?

Besides stopping for gas and car parts, we both got new underwear from Walmart. I got another 5-pack of satin string bikinis so I have more than enough for when I have accidents during periods.

We also got gum and those delicious caramel ice cream bars we’ve come to love.

You know, I got to thinking about it, and the more I think about it, the more I hope Mary makes a good sum of money from the book. It may sound selfish, but then I wouldn’t necessarily be working for free as I’m sure she’d give me at least a little something for helping her out.

Later…

Tom now says things are falling together nicely with the car. I hope so. I want to do fences this weekend, not cars.

Later…

Or so we thought things were going to be okay, but no, he’s now got to run all the way back to Casa Grande for parts. God, give him a break! Just give the poor guy a fucking break. They run him ragged at work as it is. He doesn’t need this shit. Let us just get the fuck on with our lives. If you have to pick on us, why don’t you just leave him out of it and pick on me? Come after just me. You hate me enough to, so do it! Just leave my husband and our fucking vehicles alone! I’m just so sick and tired, just so fed up with seeing him lose time, sleep and money to that fucking car!

Thursday, March 20, 2003

This is it. Florida’s got Mary. I awoke to a message her aunt left last night, saying that when she went to visit, she was told she had been en route to Florida since the 13th. What I don’t get is how she could still be en route, even if they were driving for some strange reason, and how the Florida prosecutor could not have known about it like she said was the case when she called her.

I decided to go ahead and send a 1-page letter with a few small pictures of Murphy and a religious card to her. The religious cards are about the size of playing cards. I never thought I’d be sending anything to that state again! As soon as I hear back saying she got it without any problems, I’ll start launching her stuff to her.

This is good timing, too. It’ll give me a chance to catch up on her stuff and maybe do some of my own stuff, too. I’ve been neglecting my story and proofreading.

I told her that although Florida’s quite humid and loaded with mosquitoes (though I know she already knows this), at least their winters are much warmer and nicer than Arizona’s.

So, if she really took off on the 13th, I should be getting two letters returned to me. I knew I shouldn’t have sent them, but it’s okay, she’ll still get them. I can’t imagine why she’d be driven to Florida and not flown, but either way, she should be there by now if she left on the 13th. That’s a whole week ago and it shouldn’t take more than 3-4 days to get there. Who knows? I could even have a letter from her on its way to me which would be nice.

So how do I feel about her leaving? Well, naturally I’m saddened by the extra mileage between us, but as I said numerous times before, I’ll feel more comfortable sending mail to a place in which only she knows my name. Despite our age differences, Mary turned out to be such a wonderful friend. Maybe we will be friends longer than the 11 years Andy and I were friends, the 13 years Jenny and I were friends, and the 18 years Paula and I have been friends. Actually, I’ve known Paula for 18 years, but we’ve really only been friends for about 13, minus the time we lost contact between late ’91 and late ’96, so 8 years, to be even more correct. The true test of Mary’s friendship will come when she’s released and no longer needs me. When she’s released and she no longer needs me to type for her, will she still be there?

To my utter amazement, though I should’ve figured it was coming sooner or later, I got a summons for jury duty in Maricopa County, and I was like, I’m a convicted felon, you assholes! Tom and I were laughing when I said, “I guess in some cases crime really does pay, even if you didn’t do it.” Anyway, I very happily checked the box for the convicted felon whose civil rights are not yet restored. Hey, I was born without most of my rights, civil and not-so-civil! Felon or not, like I’d be willing to serve the system that fucked me over? Yeah, right!

I wonder if the only reason Scot hasn’t come around is because of his being out, but I doubt it. I’d think he’d have whoever was covering for him go see those who he thought should be seen, but they ain’t seeing me. If I look out and see someone I don’t know, they’re not coming in.

I turned off the cold water switch. I really do prefer it room temp. It tastes like shit, though. Like plastic. Tom said it’ll go away in time. I hope so! Either way, I love the thing. It makes cooking so much easier and I can even brew my coffee with it! I just take the filter, which is small since my coffeemaker only brews by the cup, hold it over the cup and press the hot water switch.

I went outside yesterday and picked a little bushel of wildflowers. We have so many beautiful little flowers growing in patches throughout the land. I picked tiny daisies and tiny orange and purple flowers. I took a picture of me holding the clump in my hand too, to add to my land album. I thought of Mary as I picked the miniature daisies.

Friday, March 21, 2003

The renters haven’t been out much lately. At least we know they’re cool, though I sure as hell wouldn’t want them for neighbors in the city, and I’d still prefer the dogless, childless couple who are rarely home. God wouldn’t be that nice to me, though.

Still haven’t gotten back the letter I sent the day after Mary left, and here’s the latest on her which is not good at all. Hopefully, things are better by now, but she’s sure been having a hell of a time of it over the last week. I feel so, so bad for her. See, they actually drove her to Florida. I thought they’d fly her, but she rode on a bus which took a whole week to get to the Lee County jail where she is in Fort Myers because they stopped many times along the way to drop people off. Her aunt said she said it was terrible. She was stuck next to someone whose breath was a nightmare, she’s been stuck in the same underwear for a week, and of course, the whole ride was spent handcuffed and shackled to each other, having to beg really hard to use the bathroom, and being forced to sleep on the bus as they sure as hell weren’t going to check into a motel or anything like that. Makes me wonder about those who need daily medication that’s essential to their staying alive and about those who get their periods along the way. Do they even give them pads? Did they get fed along the way? It must’ve been so cool to see things she hasn’t seen for so long, yet frustrating at the same time to see places like Denny’s and not be able to stop there.

Another horrible thing is that you can’t just request Ad-Seg there and she was sent to GP. She says she’s terrified, and I would be too, with a high-profile case like that. So her aunt’s going to call Terri to see if she can pull some strings to get her in Ad-Seg, something Tom says should be no problem in light of the fact that she’s a witness for the prosecution. I just hope they Ad-Seg her real soon. That is before she gets jumped and not after.

I was surprised, yet pleased to hear after Mary called her aunt, that along with a bible, they gave her a 5x7 picture of Gretchen. Who gave it to her and how they got it, I don’t know, but that’s way cool of them.

I guess her aunt didn’t know we were cellies. She said one of us might have mentioned it in the past, but it came up when I commented about how I knew firsthand how horrible Estrella food was. We didn’t get into why I was there, but if Mary wants to discuss it with her, that’s fine. She can tell people whatever she wants to cuz I really don’t care.

Her aunt says inmates can write to each other there and that Mary’s worried about Justin writing her, but I assured her that if he did, it’s just words and words cannot hurt us. Especially when we’re adults who can tell ourselves not to listen to anybody’s shit. As Tom suggested, all she has to do is just give them to the prosecution.

Her aunt called the jail about the mail rules and the picture rule is the same as Estrella. You can send up to 5 pictures and they can’t be bigger than 3 x 5. When I realized I had to crop a lot of the pictures down and that some couldn’t be cropped without cutting off people’s heads, we agreed I’d send those pictures to her aunt, though Mary will still get them. I have them scanned in and all I have to do is squeeze them down before I print them out. We also agreed it be best if I sent the religious cards to her aunt to hold onto for her. I just hope there’s no problem with the astrology scans, cards and word-find puzzles. I also hope they don’t count my address label as one of the 5 pics. Her aunt said they said I couldn’t send her book, but I’m hoping they misunderstood her question and that they thought she meant an actual published book.

Every 3-4 days I’ll send something. She should have all her stuff by May if all goes well. I’m not going to enclose any journal excerpts in the letter that will go out to her Monday till the two sent to Estrella after she left are returned to me and I see where I left off. Meanwhile, the first of the 3 manila envelopes went out yesterday and the next one will go out Monday, then Thursday. Then I’ll start with the 3 or 4 small manila envelopes (I decided to enclose the start of my Kate story, even though there are only 10 pages), then regular envelopes with pictures. There’ll be 7-8 of those between her pictures and mine. I even found a site online with a small pic of Monster, her and Gretchen. Poor quality, but hey, at least it was there! They’ll be in with the rest of her pics. Gretchen had such nice eyes, and boy was her hair a lot shorter! It was to her collarbone.

I noticed that one of the 6 cards was a Christmas card from the infamous Michelle and company and I asked if she still wanted it or if she wanted me to ditch it. I also asked if she’d like me to email Michelle to let her know what a jerk she and her son are for breaking her heart and then promising to send pictures they never sent.

I can’t wait to get the first letter from her telling me all about what the place is like. It’ll be a while before she gets commissary and gets established and adjusted. Though there’ll be some who won’t give a shit, soon enough most of the DOs will get to know her and see what a wonderful person she is.

At least she’s in the home stretch now and should never have to move again. Right now my vibes say she’ll be a free agent in September or October of ’05. The question is, though, what kinds of guys is she going to be getting pregnant by when she gets out, and how will they react to the babies once they’re born? Tom doesn’t think jail will cure her sick fondness for abuse, but that she’ll smarten up with age, but how old will she have to be before she does that? Forty? I just got to the part where he ran over her foot with the car when she was 6 months pregnant, yet she still stayed with him she loved abuse so much.

Sunday, March 23, 2003

As usual, I can’t get on the net. It’s been nothing but hit or miss, usually miss. As I keep telling Tom, this new setup’s terrible. Just terrible. The net’s fucked up half the time and the TV is still complicated. It used to be we just brought up the guide and clicked on what we wanted to record, but now, I couldn’t even begin to figure it out. He does it. And of course, he’s still saying he’s going to come up with software to make it all better. Also, those video captures I was supposed to be able to make never happened either.

We did manage to get on the web long enough last night to order Esme. She’ll be shipped on Monday and should arrive Wednesday or Thursday.

They took the plant money on the 17th, so hopefully those will get here this week. Then all we have to do is hope they’re all alive upon arrival and that they survive when we plant them.

Although Tom is going to be looking for jobs in Casa Grande so he doesn’t have to drive all the way to Tempe, he wants to stay at the bank at least till January so we can get the final bundle of stock which will be about a grand.

The prairie dogs have been munching on the tomato plant leaves. I told him it was a waste of time and money getting fruit or vegetable plants. The rabbits and rodents will devour them in no time.

I hope that once the new driveway’s in, he’ll stop kissing the neighbor’s ass. He cuts the headlights as the car swerves around facing their house right before he stops the car, and I’m like, “But they couldn’t even see the light with all that brush they got in the way. Besides, you don’t owe them the courtesy. You don’t have to be mean to them, but you don’t have to be nice, either.”

And it still bothers me how he’s dealt with a certain other set of neighbors from the past, too. There have been so many times he’s played their shit down or acted as if I shouldn’t be bitching about something they’ve done, etc. Yet this black bitch was never once questioned. Not by her family, not by her friends, not by the courts, not by the media who no doubt never twisted a word she said. Never once did anyone ever ask, “Are you sure you didn’t do anything to provoke any problems?” Never once did anyone ever tell her, “You may not have deserved the journals, but if you’d just shut up and lived like normal, decent civilized people, you’d never have had a problem.” Never once did anyone ever ask her, “If you didn’t like the mail she sent, why didn’t you just dump it and move on?”

How do I know this? I just do.

Anyway, it’s a good thing we are just friends, as I never realized, though it’s all well worth it, just how much of his time the home improvements would eat up. His mother ran him ragged in the city and out here it’s the car and home improvements. Aside from why it wasn’t in my cards, no wonder it wasn’t in his to have a child. He’d never have the time for it. In fact, I’m seriously considering forgetting about the kiln. Not just because I can’t imagine God allowing me to work for myself for once and do something I want to do, but because I don’t see how he’d have the time to work on it with me. As soon as he sat down to work on it with me, the car would break. I think it’d be a whole lot easier, given the very full plate that we have, to just drop it and save the money to buy 4 or 5 of the nicest dolls. I think I could get them within 2-3 years.

My next purchase goals are the last 3 mugs I designed with several rat and mouse pictures. I’ll need to save $47. I owe $10 on Esme’s shipping, then I’ll need $37 for the mugs.

Tom trimmed 2” of hair last night. It was an inch below the crack of my ass and now it’s an inch above it.

Later…

Oh, no I’m not getting the mugs next. Not with the absolutely stunning new Indian doll Ashton now has. It’s breathtakingly beautiful! She’s called Spirit of the Snowy Owl. She’s 18” tall and holds an owl on one outstretched arm. Even her sleeveless Indian dress is gorgeous and the realistic detail of the sculpture itself is fabulous. Naturally, she isn’t cheap. She’s $130, but I think that by June I’ll have her.

I emailed Mary’s book to Chuck, but I had to do it in 5 different emails and mail about 50 pages at a time because the thing wouldn’t let me send so many pages at once.

In regards to Mary’s line: a man who hits you and claims he loves you is a full-blown devious liar – well if I could add to that I’d add that anyone who hits you and claims they love you is a full-blown devious liar. Even parents. My mother hit me as a child and then told me she loved me and I believed it. As an adult, however, I believe that the only one who believed she loved me was my mother herself. This advice shouldn’t solely apply to men. It should apply to everyone. Nobody who hits you loves you no matter if they’re family, friends, lovers, strangers, etc. I think that if one is going to have enough self-respect to steer clear away from violent lovers, one should do the same with violent friends and family. After all, self-respect is self-respect and to what do we owe the honor of allowing those to slap us around or abuse us verbally/emotionally just because we share their blood or just because they’re a friend or someone we don’t sleep with? My mother supposedly feels guilty just like hers does over the way she treated her kids, but you know what? It’s too late. Know what else? They never change. They may recognize they fucked up, but they never ever change. They’ll appear changed for a while, but I can assure you, it’s always temporary.

Speaking of change, most of us in general change throughout the years. However, never have I met people who’ve changed so little over the years as did the folks and siblings. They’re virtually the same with everything they do. The way they think, the way they talk, their beliefs, etc. Almost nothing had changed from when I was a child till I walked out of their lives for good 6 years ago.

It’s 82° in the house now so I turned the cold water temperature back on. Once it hits 85°, we’ll need to AC it.

Monday, March 24, 2003

This new system sucks! It really, really sucks. I have so much trouble going online. All it does is crash. The whole point in switching to this setup was to save money, but there’s always a price to pay for saving money. It’s like something up there doesn’t want us saving money. I’m no longer watching any TV and I go online as little as possible. It’s just that I had to send Chuck Mary’s book and I want to keep checking for a UPS tracking link on the doll I ordered. I also questioned them about another doll I may order in the future and I’m awaiting a response on that, too.

I had to listen to a few hours of non-stop pop, pop, pop. Yeah, the hunters are still at it, mostly in the mornings. The hotter it gets, though, the less I hear of them during the day. It’s at the point now where it’s chilly early in the morning and warm by late afternoon. I ran the AC yesterday for an hour or so.

I’ve finished all of Mary’s stuff, so now I can take a break and work on my own stuff for a while. I’m sure it won’t be long before the drafts start coming again so I’ll use this time off wisely. I can’t wait to hear from her. I’m hoping to this week. I also hope she gets my stuff and that no one’s harmed her. If anyone ever does, I swear I’ll finish her book with the aid of her family, but so far, nothing up there’s proven to hate her enough to see her killed. Maybe badly hurt both physically and emotionally, but not killed. Anyway, Mary’s strong. She’ll pull through.

Tuesday, March 25, 2003

The first of the two letters sent to Estrella came back. I’ll be sending it off to Mary, along with another letter. I’ll also send a separate envelope with Murphy’s pictures. That way she won’t have to wait any longer for them. I also want to wait till I hear that she’s been getting the stuff I’ve been sending.

I called her aunt last night to see if she’s heard from her and she said she tried calling Saturday night, but that her husband accidentally hit the wrong button and lost her.

I got the UPS tracking link, but it doesn’t work. It says it can’t find any information for that tracking number. Tom said it’ll work when it gets in the system, but I don’t know. It seems to be taking an awfully long time. Either way, I won’t worry unless the doll doesn’t show up on Thursday, the day it’s supposed to.

Wednesday, March 26, 2003

The bitch of a rat is now history. No, she didn’t die on her own, and no, I didn’t kill her, though I’d have liked to. I simply had enough and dumped her, though I’m not going to tell Tom that. Unlike with Little Ratsy, I dumped her way out towards the front of the property. Hopefully, she won’t have the guts to come to the house, and if she does, I hope she doesn’t get into the vents. She won’t if we seal them up well enough. Hopefully, she’ll get eaten by either prairie dogs, roadrunners or something.

I finally got the UPS link to work. The doll started in South San Francisco, then went to Sylmar, and as of 1 AM last night, it arrived in Phoenix. I don’t see why it can’t be delivered today, but that’s how it always is; they get delivered the next day. Today she’ll be sent to the Casa Grande station where the actual delivery person will bring her from.

I’m still weighing the pros and cons of getting the kiln. We’d save a lot of time, money and hassles if we didn’t, but at the same time, I do want to make dolls and I’m not going to be working for Mary or writing my own dumb stories forever, so what will I do then? Sit and stare at the wall?

If all went well, Mary now has the first big envelope, plus a letter. This Friday or Saturday, she should have the second big envelope and another letter. I’m not going to send any more manila envelopes till I hear from her, though.

Thursday, March 27, 2003

The doll could be here any sec, though more likely not till between the hours of 3:00-5:00.

Meanwhile, I saw that fucking rat hanging out by the bush I dumped her by. She was in plain view where Tom could see her, so I went out, scared her down into a hole, then filled the hole in.

I keep hunting for this song that only one user in the world seems to have and they’re rarely online. When they are, I’m queued up over 100, and by the time I get under 20, they either go offline or I crash.

I turned the ringer down low on the phone while we still have the regular phone. Now that the satellite has freed up the phone, I expect we’ll get daily sales calls. Not like in Phoenix where we were getting half a dozen or more a day, but maybe once or twice a day.

All the petunias and wildflower seeds surrounding Queenie are pretty much dead. The wildlife seems to like to pick on that particular group, whereas the ones surrounding Palma are doing fine. Yeah, I always did say that Palma was one tough bitch!

There’s this 19-year-old gay girl named Meagan where Tom works. She’s the one that had that hilarious T-shirt saying: All my Barbies are Lesbians. Tom mentioned to her that I like women and the two have talked freely about gayhood. Well, Meagan’s getting married to another 19-year-old woman whom she went to high school with. Even though I told Tom to tell her she’s too young to get married, gay or straight, and that Jennifer Lopez is way better looking than her Ani DeFranco, we’ve been invited to the wedding. I was surprised to hear Tom say he wouldn’t mind going out of curiosity just to see what the ceremony’s like, and I’m a bit curious myself, but since neither of us likes to be sociable, we probably won’t go. It’s on April 25th and if it’s outdoors I’m not going to go sweat my ass off over this for people I don’t even know. Plus, as he pointed out, he’ll have to work that night.

Later…

Esme arrived at 3:00. She’s very nice. Awesome hair. Her outfit wasn’t quite the color I expected it to be. So many light-colored things online look white. I thought her outfit was of a frosty white color, but her jacket’s actually a light metallic gold and the pants, shoes and bodysuit are a cross between light tan and off-white. I left her leggings and boots on and replaced the jacket with the gold and white fur-lined coat that came with Karen. It clashes a little, but not much. I polished her nails metallic gold. She also has bendable arms, unlike the others, and comes with gold sunglasses which actually look cool on her and go well with the outfit I’ve assembled for her. Now I’m not sure I’ll bother with Sydney or even the Esme Mesmerizing. Maybe I’ll still get Sydney so I can have the full line, but I can get similar fashions on Barbies for half the cost.

Friday, March 28, 2003

It’s gotten to the point now where I no longer sit in anticipation of Scot stopping by. I really believe that’s now one thing in life that the freeloaders no longer have control over. I mean, I’d really be surprised if he ever did come back. Surprised enough to be suspicious. Especially since he and I both know there’s no reason he should be here.

Nonetheless, like it or not, those freeloaders do still own me for the most part which means I gotta make sure I start staying up as late as I can to go to Casa Grande for them first thing in the morning.

Last night I did my best sewing work yet, making Eve a gown very similar to the Mesmerizing leopard print gown Esme wears, so now I really don’t have to get it. I wanted something in that style, though, to add variety. I took an old leopard print bodysuit and used that for the material. I made a form-fitting skirt that rests on the hips and reaches nearly to the ankles and a halter that crosses at the chest. It really looks great on her, and I did it with no pattern in under two hours. For accents that I put around her waist, I added a small pearl necklace that came with another doll.

I’m now $110 away from that Indian doll I want.

In other doll news, there’s this really cool line of Barbies coming out this year, some of which is already out, called the Birthstone Barbies. Although they all wear the same beautiful glittery gown, each has a different color depending on the stone for that month, plus a matching necklace. The stone for my month is turquoise and that, along with September’s Sapphire Barbie, is my favorite. All the Barbies are white, but they have color variations in their hair and eyes. September’s a blond and December’s a brunette. I was surprised to learn they’re only $25 each. Walmart’s going to be carrying them. We learned that Walmart has an online store, too. Anyway, although they won’t be out till September, I think they’ll look cool together with one’s hair being darker than its dress and the other’s being lighter than its dress. The contrast will be nice and I think they’ll complement each other well side by side.

Tom got this vanilla-flavored Diet Coke that I thought would taste rather weird, but I’m amazed at how good it is. And it’s got 0 calories, too.

He says the bank’s going to have two floats in the gay pride parade that’s to be in Phoenix, and I said, “Oh, so the bank’s cheap, but not prejudiced?” and Tom laughed in agreement.

There’s a girl he works with who was eating and eating yet she kept losing weight. So it was discovered that she had what’s called a tapeworm till her doctor gave her medication for it. How I wish I could have a tapeworm! Only one problem, though. As soon as I got my weight down and killed the worm, I’d still be stuck with the cold hard reality of being over 30, and with that, a metabolism that’s virtually nonexistent. So, as soon as I took just one glance at food, the weight would come flying back on like a lonely puppy who missed its owner.

Carolyn left a message today saying she got her mail returned to her from Fort Myers (that was awfully fast) and that she’s sending me a couple of books of stamps which brings me to my Mary update that had me both furious and relieved.

Carolyn called to tell me yesterday that she finally received a letter from Mary, but she wasn’t in Fort Myers. She was in Naples! Terri went all out for her and got her in her own cell in this place she’s in now where she says she’s being treated a whole lot better. The inmates and guards are nice to her there which is what had Carolyn and I relieved. The other inmates are supposed to stay away from her, but they sneak over to chat with her, presumably on their hour out, and they’re the ones who lent her the envelope to send the letter. They know who she is, of course. I didn’t even realize myself just how famous Mary is, but I’m sure that’d be no compliment to her. Not under the circumstances which I can totally understand.

The part that pissed us off was when we learned of how shitty she was treated in Fort Myers. Apparently, Mary, whose wrists and ankles are still bruised from the chains she was forced to wear for a week, got a heavy period at one point and asked for pads, and the guard just glared at her till they eventually gave her a wad of toilet paper to use. They also wanted $3 a day, plus a $40 booking fee. Tom suggested the $3 fee might be because they get better food there, and also, if it was a maximum-security jail, that may be why she was treated like shit. They tend to be more aggressive and confrontational to inmates in maximum security. Anyway, although Naples has a $20 booking fee (I’m amazed Estrella didn’t have a booking fee), they charge $1 a day like Estrella. I hope that doesn’t mean the food’s so spicy it’s barely edible!

Another unfortunate thing is that Mary’s got walking pneumonia, so she’s been very sick. She said her brain was so fried from being sick that she couldn’t even remember my address.

She also told me that a guard told her that her English biddy of a mother-in-law, who lives in Florida and who’s a major drunk, has been in and out of the jail several times.

What had us so pissed off was all the mail we knew would be returned to us, particularly me. Here I was finally given something for mailing all this shit and what should happen but that the cost should get thrown back on me, as usual. Not the case, though, in the end, because Carolyn was kind enough to offer to send me stamps which was way nice of her. I really do appreciate it. It’s going to take about 40 stamps to get everything mailed.

As soon as I’m reinked, as a way of saying thanks, I’ll send Carolyn a word find puzzle. She seemed to think that was a really neat and fun idea. I’ll also mail a few pictures of Tom and I and our land. I’ll send an outer house shot, too.

Tomorrow I’ll be sending Mary one regular envelope with a couple of small pictures of Murphy (I think the mail rules are the same as Estrella there) and I absolutely won’t send anything else till I get a reply back.

Saturday, March 29, 2003

Not surprisingly, since I can’t seem to go more than a week or two without being woken up, the sound of the wind yanking off a piece of the house’s skirting woke me up. It’s been windy a lot lately and it’s cooled down again, too. We haven’t needed heat, but we haven’t needed the AC either. Wish it could be like this year-round.

I’m up a pound so I gotta take it easy. It’s my own fault, though. I had 2000 calories or more yesterday.

Carolyn held true to her word and sent me those two books of stamps. I really am grateful, too.

The first large and regular envelopes to Fort Myers were returned to me today, and the plants are in, too. On a Saturday, of course, when we can’t pick them up till Monday.

It appears that both the bougainvilleas are going to end up dead, but everything else is fine so far. The palms are established, but unlike the oleanders, they don’t seem to have grown yet. The oleanders are doing the best. They’ve grown noticeably.

My bingo ticket vibes are hot again. I knew the last time he bought a couple that they’d lose, just like I knew one of today’s would win, and it did. It won $5.

Sunday, March 30, 2003

The black bitch says I have to be in bed by 4 AM. You see, I’m in a tough spot with my schedule right now. I was getting up too late to report this Wednesday afternoon and unable to stay up late enough to be a slave to bitch in the morning, so I’m going to start setting my alarm so I don’t sleep past noon and we’ll do the bitch in the afternoon. I wonder if Scot will be back. He was never the greatest so I wish he wouldn’t return and that I could be turned over to that chubby blond chick that observed my test. Compensation, in a sense, begins in November. That’s when we’re going to add the money that the fucking state got over the last few years to our allowances which will mean we’ll each get $60 a month whereas right now we’re getting the same as them.

Although my nasal spray keeps me from having 24-hour sneezing fits, I still have daily patches of sneezing. It really gets old, too! I just want a day in my life without sneezing. Just one day.

[blondrichclosetwitch]

Losing him was Blue like I’d never known

Horse 1/16/17

Talk of that? 

Um, …………………can i just grab my, and then we’ll start. Sorry. (popping up migraine meds) Sorry. I’m trying to be….(swallowing) (breathing slow) 

Is this Horse? 

Feels like Horse. 

(Long pause) 

Did something happen last night? 

(time passes) 

Is Blond still pregnant?

(transmission) 

She is still pregnant. 

Is she still gonna miscarry. 

Yes. 

But something happened last night, you’re saying. And i feel it in my legs too. 

Was it between her & jakk?

And this is present time. 

Is he safe? Yes? Ok. 

Did, did he tell her that he didn’t want to stay with her. 

“He did, even if she’s pregnant.”

Was that the spell?

(exhales) 

(amazed)He told her that. Last night. Did he sleep on the couch?

Is he going to the lawyer today?

It’s a monday. Whoa. what made him decide to do that? Did Nusch support him?

“Nusch helped him.”

(translating transmission) and it was me going to Laurie. 

This is not to write a play, this is real life, right?

Does she need to be put in a hospital? (sighs anxiously) is she still gonna lose the baby this week? 

Are you going faster about what i just wrote? I shouldn’t write that but she’s just not as smart. I know. She’s not a 4 am friend. 

Should we read her letter right now? And see what truth there is in it. I’m willing to do that.

I don’t mind looking at truth. 

(she reads a letter aloud)

(sends a text) i read your letter with the spirits..

Dude this is fucked up 

So back to Blond. So, he told her he wanted a divorce. Ok, so the question is, is Blond gonna stop now? 

You’re saying yes. 

She knows she’s lost. 

Is she….is she afraid that i’m going to send her to jail for the spells?

“Yes.”

Is she gonna stop harassing me now?Like yesterday  She tried three times  but then she realizes  i have this connection with katie, like…i know when she’s sending me people. 

( This one merits a sidenote, i thought to myself as i typed this. fakekatie started telling me when clients were sent by Blond either in december or january, and before you knew it every client seemed to be  from Blond.i had a fairly decent business before this, and i became well-known for my technique & take. Well soon i was freaking out on regulars because of what i was being told. Accusing people of trying to turn me in to the cops and working for Blond, and the whole 9 yards. I said horrible things to regulars, because fake katie was telling me horrible things. i became completely afraid to see anyone, ever. I know she thought it was funny to fuck with me. Well, let me tell you. It was terrifying, and i’ve never gotten over it. Ruining me was her kink.)

Is she scared of me? 

So she’s more scared of me than a threat? Ok. and that’s why when i emailed her mother she knew that i meant business. And she knows that she’s….losing power?

(translating transmission) “She knows that she’s lost her power.”

Did Random going over there yesterday…did it do something to her?

So now she’s gonna stop. 

Ok. 

(softly) Does she know that she’s gonna miscarry?

(haggard breathing) 

Dude. 

Has she stopped spells? Does she know that she needs to stop? 

There used to be talk of her coming after jakk, and /or me……..is that still gonna happen?

What is the next step?

Is she going to…go along with him, as far as filing for divorce?

(softly) no….yes yes yes, ok

“So possibly they should be divorced by her birthday.”

Wow. miscarriage and divorce by her birthday. Jesus. That’s…awful. 

The miscarriage is gonna.. be rough on her.

Is she gonna move out of greenpoint?

Am i still gonna have to press charges? About the spells.

 You still want me to do that. 

Is she gonna go to jail? Is it gonna be jail, or is it gonna be a psychiatric hospital? Which one? Is it jail? Psychiatric hospital? Yeah. fuck. 

So i still have to do that. 

(to cat) hi baby. I know you don’t feel well. 

Is it true that i was joan of arc? (starts laughing) battles…burned at the stake…got it

Fighting for God, France, makes sense. Ok. 

Are jakk and I gonna stay in this apartment?

Is my landlord gonna stay cool with me? Giving him an extra 100$ probably helped. It’s just money. He’s probably like,” whatever she’s cool. She gives me presents. “

Let’s see what time is it. 

So she’s gonna leave me alone now. (transmission)

“But we still need to get her in a hospital. Because she’s not well. Ok. And she’s gonna miscarry. And it’s going to be bad.”

Yup. i know. And I…i have to work on the letter for my brother. And i have to work. Work should come better today, right? 

Ok. 

Yeah i felt that. 

It’s so good, that poem. I just can’t even…take it. 

(texting) i love this poem 

(whispers) listen to this 

(end of tape) 

[jaejoongs-nipple-piercing]

I was actually able to get the game onto my new computer but when I try to log in it says it’s invalid and wants me to start new characters.

Hell no I’m not doing that!! I sent them an email about it and was later told it didn’t send because the recipient didn’t exist. So I tweeted them but haven’t heard back.

Plus I find out this afternoon that my supervisor wanted me to call him so I did and my schedule has been changed YET AGAIN! So I just told him I wasn’t sure and said I’d talk it over with my family and we decided my sister will work tomorrow and then we’ll both go in on Friday (both in the morning). I’m too run down to go in tomorrow (I literally slept half the day today because I was still tired when I woke up and my throat was kinda scratchy). So I texted him about it and he said I can use sick pay so that’s what I’m gonna do.

I just don’t understand why nothing can ever be easier for us. And then our neighbor has become even more of an asshole and she claims to be Christian (which I doubt at this point), and she’s just so mean, she’s acting like the ones who lived in that house before she did.

I can’t play Superstar Pledis because Bighit took it away

I can’t watch VLive because Bighit took it away

I can’t play Aura Kingdom or Aura Kingdom 2 because everyone at Aeria games and Gamigo and X-Legend are idiots and I’ve lost years of hard work and time and effort and leveling up and 5 characters. I made Kris and Woojin characters and I had 2 sorceresses and an archer type who was originally level 80 then I had to level her back up to 60 and I started the first Aura Kingdom game in like 2013-2014

AND EVERYTHING IS GONE

GIVE

ME

BACK

MY

GAMES

NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[cxhleel108]

LITG S8 Thots for this week: Really bitch?…REALLY???

(Y’all already know what’s coming so let me clarify that I’m typing all this mad as hell currently)

• I guess we’re starting off with outfit time!

• This is cute. Fusebox, less is more. Remember that!

• So I guess Jin is just gonna start off every volume with a piping hot cup of cap! Like y’all are barely a couple what are we talking about???

• Now I’m all for doing what you want in your sex life but you telling me Theo dicked down 7 different bitches on a week long holiday??? That’s just nasty.

• Oh here this bitch go tryna sink her claws into my man again🙄🙄🙄

• Can someone genuinely explain to me how Luna’s mad that Jin had a one night stand after a party but just said that she woulda been turned on had the 7 night sexscapade been done by him?

• CAN YOU BITCHES STOP KISSING MY MAN WTF??? Sophie know damn well Oakley of all people is not breaking up with someone over voicemail!

• Oh Jack you messyyyyy.

• See and now Jin pissing me off cuz you getting pissy over a cat? Be for reallllll😭

• Sophie you most definitely knew what “going exclusive” meant but ok girl.

• How our baggage go from “I got mistaken for a celebrity” to “I got mistaken for a weather reporter from Norway”…that is not the same thing😭😭😭

• Because he’s perfect and the rest of you suck?

• Oakley’s coming to save me from having to listen to these hoes complain about men they don’t love and then all of a sudden here comes Jack trying (keyword “trying”) to turn my head…don’t piss me off.

• God I’m so glad we get to be entertaining and not a fucking lame this season.

• He’s mad because Jin and Sophie have moved on from their kiss and aren’t eye fucking each other constantly…???????????

• Our resident Casanova everybody!

• Another attempt to get me to fight with Oakley omg can we not disagree on one fucking thing without y’all being like “tRouBLE iN ParAdISE?”🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

• Luna got one more time to come for me before I’m on that ass for the rest of the season I’m not playing.

• Apologizing when he did nothing wrong. They could never make me hate you baesito!

• Outfit time!

• A literal barbie doll. Y’all are not fucking with her!

• Of course, yet another challenge pre my arrival that caused a massive blowout. What’s new?

• “Clothes before bros” is so true omg Claudia when I say these bitches get on my nerves I don’t mean you!

• Mind you this the exact reason why I sent they asses packing 10 minutes later.

• Oh the way I just clocked his nasty ass!

• Sophie in here talking like her ass ain’t finna be gone in T minus 5 seconds aw.

• Outfit time!

• She’s cute but we not here to talk about her!

• Believe me when I say this is my favorite dress they’ve made in a while. Nawwww bitch like we need more of this! Plus the shoes to match ugh YES! Give us more dresses with our coochie peeking out please and thank you.

• I see what game y’all played here now Fusebox. You put him in a sexy (and much better) outfit to distract us from the bullshit y’all were finna pull not even 2 minutes later. YOU PUT HIM IN THEM TIGHT ASS PANTS SHOWING OFF HIS THIGH MEAT JUST TO PLAY WITH MY EMOTIONS! When I say everyone behind this is going to hell ooooouuuu!

• Now imagine me seeing this and laughing to myself cuz I’m thinking Jin and Luna finna have to pack they bags too.

• Now imagine me seeing this and immediately closing out the app, shutting my phone off, and opening my laptop up so I can send their team a strongly worded email questioning which person thought this was funny and/or a good idea.

• Sigh…the first time in a while y’all had me genuinely gagged and it’s over some shit like this🙁

• So every other season when a bitch wanted to be dramatic and leave the villa it was cool but now that it’s my man that’s leaving I don’t get a choice? Oh ok!

• 😕🔫

• The fact we’re matching too💔

• This nigga finna be ugly as shit omg nobody talk to me!

[ateezscupid]

hwas part NEEDS to be a ff

HELP HELP HELP i just saw this now, i was hoping someone asked 😭. and i’m so so sorry for seeing this late, the notification did NOT come in. i also changed it up a bit, hope you like ittt!

precious ✩ 𝗌𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗐𝖺 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

plot - seonghwa cant focus when you overstim him during work.

genre - smut and fluff (if you squint)

warnings - switch!hwa x switch f!reader, sugar daddy!hwa, non!idol au, oral (both), facesitting, begging, masturbation, praising and degrading, fingering (f receiving), use of toys, dirty talk, pet names

wc - 3.5k

“do you have to go in today?” you crawl to the edge of the bed and pout. you hated waking up late to see your boyfriend already dressed and ready for work. not only would you be home alone for most of the day, but it would be like this monday through friday. honestly, it was expected. dating a man who was the CEO of a major tech company, you should’ve seen this coming.

“i don’t have to work that much today, so you don’t need to wait too long, baby.” seonghwa said as he buttoned his shirt. you could lie, though. he looked hot in a shit and tie.

“okay… what time do you think you’ll be coming home? i found this movie i wanna watch-“

“just because i said i’d be home early doesn’t mean i’ll stop working. i mean, i know i said i didn’t have to work they much but i still need to send and respond to emails. that and i have a whole bunch of people who i need to supervise or have interviews and meetings with. my schedule today is very… booked.” hwa turns to you with a frown.

“so you won’t be free at all today? not even for a second? are you even gonna stop and have lunch? you’re always working and it leaves me home alone. why cant you work from home like me?” this wouldn’t be the first time you tried convincing him to work from home.

“how many times are you going to ask me that and how many times am i going to say i can’t?” he chuckled at your cuteness. seonghwa walks over to you and places a hand on your cheek, kissing your forehead to try and stop you’re complaining. he’s gotten used to it, but he still felt bad whenever he left to get into his car.

“i still think it’s worth trying.” you finally get off of the bed and stand behind him, peeking over his shoulder to watch him fix his tie. you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your cheek against his back.

“can i at least get a kiss goodbye?” you pour. seonghwa looked at you through the mirror and chuckles.

“love, you know if i start kissing you, i won’t be able to stop.”

“then don’t.” you reply. “i know you stop at dunkin’ donuts before you get on the highway, which means you leave twenty minutes earlier than you should. we have twenty minutes.”

“how the hell did you know i stop at—did you put a tracker on my phone again?” he chuckled, obviously not weirded out but flattered.

“no! i keep seeing dunkin’ donuts gift cards all over the place.” you let go of him. “and i checked your purchases on your card, nothing major.”

seonghwa turned to you and started laughing. you were so cute, he couldn’t deny your request. and you weren’t wrong, he was stopping at dunkin’ donuts before he actually had to get on the road and go to work. he places his hands on your shoulders.

“alright, twenty minutes. and after, we can try that idea you’ve always wanted to do.” he smiles and gently pushed you into the bed, making you lay on your back.

“the toy idea? see, i wanted to get one of those plugs for your prostate but i saw a cock ring that vibrated so i had to go for the second option!” you cheekily smile.

“you were about to buy me a butt plug?” hwa asked as he was undoing his tie.

“i wasn’t about to, i did.” you giggle. “if you don’t want it, i’ll take it. or you could give it to one of your horny little friends. i mean wooyoung.”

“no no, i’ll try it out. that fact that those four words willingly came out of my mouth says i don’t mind.”

that’s another thing you loved about seonghwa. he wasn’t afraid to try anything new, even if it was embarrassing. you did ask if he wanted to try wearing fishnets and he said no, but at least he gave it a bit of thought before turning down the ides when it was presented to him. all he wanted was to make you happy.

as if getting you multiple credit and debit cards wasn’t enough, he’d go out of his way to buy you things he knew you’d like. for example, those diamond earrings you two saw in the mall that one day. you didn’t bring them up again after, but he saw the way you looked at them. you wanted them. you were fully aware seonghwa was loaded, but you didn’t take advantage of that.

the only things you’ve spent a ton of money on is birthday parties, gifts and fancies, and clothes. most of the clothes and gifts were for you, but the rest were for seonghwa. it was your way of saying thank you for everything he’s done.

“seventeen minutes left.” you blurt out. “i know what we can do, or what i can do, let me suck you off!” you smile wide.

“or i could eat you out. i know i haven’t done it in a while and you seem to love my tongue.” hwa said as he stepped closer to you, messing with the strands of the tank top you had on.

“i think you have an obsession with eating me out, seonghwa.” you grab onto his shirt and pulled him over top of you, pecking him on the lips. “but i’m not completely against it.”

“oh? then sit on my face.” he tilts his head with a smile. “i’ll go easy on you since i know you have a meeting today. i don’t want you to be tired.”

“aw, you’re too kind.” his words make you blush. you sit up and scoot back on the bed. seonghwa kicked his shoes off and got on the bed next to you, laying on his back and pulling you over top of him. he grabs your hips and makes sure you were directly over his mouth. he looked hungry just looking at you.

luckily, you only wore a tank top and underwear to bed. he shifts your panties to the side and lowers your hips onto his face, earning a moan from you. you hold onto the headboard of your bed once you feel his tongue lick at your folds. now you’re desperately clinging onto the headboard trying to keep yourself stable.

the way he worked his tongue made you cry out in pleasure, lips wrapped around your clit with his tongue licking against the sensitive bud. your hand flew down and grabbed a handful of his hair, grinding your hips onto his mouth for more friction.

“mm, h-hwa…” you moaned, throwing your head back when two fingers started prodding at your hole. you needed to get away from his face, otherwise you’d squirt on him. you don’t want to do that.

“seonghwa, wai—“ before you could finish, his fingers entered you. he wasted no time pushing and pulling his fingers, curling them to hit the sensitive spots inside of you. your back arched and your thighs squeezed against his face. you were so close already, you needed to let go. he hummed against your heat, sending vibrations through your core.

you look down at him, making eye contact. his pretty brown orbs, you couldn’t help but think he looked adorable while trying to make you cum. as demanding and strict he was sometimes, he was soft when it came to you. of course he had his moments where he’d fuck you so hard, you actually thought he broke your back, but overall he was a big softie who wanted nothing more but to hear your pretty moans.

“hwa, i-i’m close!” you whimper, now gripping handfuls of his hair with both of your hands. you’re surprised how he didn’t have any bald spots yet because when you pull, you pull hard. it didn’t seem to bother him though.

“cum, baby, please.” he huffed against your pussy, continuing to finger you as you moved your hips back and forth to try and cum faster. and then, it happened. you came all over his fingers. seonghwa put his mouth back on you to lick up all of your juices, making sure not to miss a single drop as you came.

you felt like you were levitating once you did. he always managed to make you cum super hard, and he’d lick up what came out. it didn’t matter if he busted his load in you or not, he just wanted to eat you out.

your body almost flips onto his when coming down from your high. gently, seonghwa brings your body down and rests you on his lap, rubbing your back to calm you down. you two didn’t have much time for after care, but you didn’t mind this time. in fact, you were too lightheaded to even realize.

“you eat me out like a starved man…” you huffed, falling into him and breathing heavily on his chest. “i can’t even feel my legs all the way.”

“you’re adorable.” he kisses your forehead and sits up slowly not to startle you. “you still wanna use the toys on me?”

your head perked up upon hearing those words. then, you stood as if the feeling in your legs came back instantly. you get off of the bed and rush over to your side of the closet, grabbing a small black plastic bag that hung on the back of it. you take out a plug and a cocking, then the two remotes that go with it. seonghwa seemed nervous just looking at the toys, but he wasn’t one to judge a book by its cover.

“you’re still okay with using these, right?” you ask. he nods his head quickly and scoots to the edge of the bed. he was definitely happy, so there was that.

“alright, bend over.”

he was a taken aback from hearing those words from from you, but it obviously wasn’t the first time he’s heard them. he does so without word, moving his pants and boxers down enough so you could put the toys on him. he was already semi-hard.

you grab a small bottle of lube from your nightstand and open it, squeezing some onto the plug first. you giggle and press it against him before pushing it inside. he thought you were lying when you said it stimulated your prostate. his body jolts forward, a moan coming from his parted lips and you couldn’t help but giggle. it must’ve been pressing on it roughly for him to respond like that.

then the cockring. you grab his erection from behind gently put the ring around him. hwa forgot how tight the rings were since he hadn’t worn one in a long time. he definitely needed to dress casually today. a suit wasn’t going to help him conceal this at all. he didn’t want to feel his pants getting tight while talking to his co-workers.

“okay, now to test the vibrator part to make sure they work!” you say as you look at the remotes in your free hand. now holding one in each, you look at the plug vibrator. you giggle a bit before turning it up to three.

seonghwa didn’t even bother trying to stay up. he fell to his knees, his arms still resting on the mattress as his entire body trembled. the new sensation was a bit different than before.

“holy fucking—“ he began, closing his eyes as his chest began heaving up and down. “fuck fuck fuck, oh my fucking god.”

“it’s not even at the highest setting!” you laugh. “you wanna test the highest setting?”

“please, i just wanna—shitshitshitshit!” he grips the bed sheets once his plug is at the top speed. he didn’t even try silencing his moans, he felt like he was going crazy. he hid his face in his arms and arched his back, shaking his head as if he were telling you to turn it down, and you did. he fell limp, panting heavily.

“you still want me to try the ring-“

“please, oh my god..” he whined. you happily oblige and look at the remote for the cockring, turning it to the top speed. you saw him reach down, holding his cock in his hands when he felt the vibrations. he was semi-hard, but now he’s red and pulsing. that was quicker than you imagined.

“b-baby, get…get my lounge outfit, please.” he huffs. you turn the vibrations off and walk over toward the closet. you grab the black hoodie and grey sweatpants he was talking about, rushing back over and sitting them on the bed in front of them.

“you look like a whore down there.” you giggle. “using these toys are gonna be fun!”

“y/n, oh my gosh.” seonghwa moaned into his hand. he thought he would be able to handle both vibrators at once, but he was terribly mistaken.

“hmm?” you hum into the phone, swaying back and forth. you were in the kitchen making cookies for when he got back, while also having the two remotes placed next to you. the ring’s speed was at 5, while his plug was at a 6. it was only a matter of time until you put them both at ten.

“i cant focus when you have these—please just come down here. i’m begging you.” he whimpers into the phone. you didn’t say anything as you dumped a bag of chocolate chips into a bowl.

“y/n, p-please.” hwa begged. he’s been begging for the past two hours. begging for you to come to his workplace and fuck the shit out of him, and begging for his release. the orgasm denial part wasn’t even your choice, it was his. he only made it harder on himself.

“give me a good reason to go down there and maybe i will.” you looked at your phone, grabbing a spoon and mixing the ingredients in your bowl.

“i-if you come… i’ll—fuck,” he couldn’t even finish his sentences. the sensation was making him feel lightheaded. he needed to push through this. “if you come, i-i’ll take a week off j-just for you.”

“a week? that’s generous.” you say, pushing your phone away from you and getting ready to roll up the cookie dough. on the other side of the phone, you heard seonghwa shuffling around at his desk. it was clear he was struggling to sit still. you couldn’t blame him since he did have a vibrator inside of him.

“baby, please, can i at least touch myself…” he asked as he continued to shift around in his seat. that made you laugh.

“i thought you needed to focus on something? you said you needed to focus.”

“i’m trying to focus on not driving home right this second and pinning you to the bed.” seonghwa mumbled. you heard this and went quiet. he went quiet as well, which was enough to tell you he knew he was wrong. you click your tongue and nod slowly, walking toward the sink and beginning to wash your hands.

“y-y/n?” he spoke. he was so adorable. hwa cleared his throat to try and distract himself from what he said, acting as if he was looking at something else. “i-i think i’m fine—“

you turned both of the vibrators up to ten.you took the two remotes and brought them to the bedroom, putting them in a drawer then walking back into the living room. you were waiting for seonghwa to act up to do that.

“you okay, hwa?” you ask into the phone, hearing his whimpers and moans as he grips onto the desk in front of him.

“f-fuck, i’m sorry i’m so sorry, t-turn them down, please!” he pushed his chair back and lurched forward, shuddering trying to control himself. he failed miserably. his pants were tightening around him, even though he was wearing sweats, and his body was heating up faster than before. he felt like he was going to explode.

“i’ll be there in thirty minutes.” you say before hanging up.

seonghwa looked around his office for some sort of relief. he needed to do something. he knew you weren’t going to allow him to touch himself, but you never said he couldn’t—

“the couch.” he mumbles. he was going to hump the couch. he scrambled out of his chair and rushed toward the windows that see through his office, rolling the blinds down and flipping the sign in front to “do not disturb”. he was glad he hadn’t gotten rid of that sign.

seonghwa walked over to his sofa and grabbed a pillow, placing it down then laying down so his waist was right on the pillow. he pulls his pants down then his boxers, positioning himself then lowering himself onto the pillow. he let out a sigh of relief once he felt the soft fabric of the pillow touch his throbbing erection. it was painful even moving, so he hoped this would help him.

he didn’t wait to start thrusting wildly onto the pillow, his fist on the armrest of the couch and his forehead resting on it. he was so horny, he couldn’t even think. his hips stuttered, not just because he was already close to release, but because of the butt plug and cockring working simultaneously to drive him crazy.

“y/n…” he moans your name, now with one hand gripping the armrest and the other holding the pillow in place. he needed to cum. he didn’t care if he got it in the couch or not, he needed to let go. it was painful holding it in, and even worse that he was being stimulated while sensitive.

“f-fuck, so close… s-so close,” he mutters to himself, eyes shut tight with his chest heaving up and down. all he needed to do was cum and all of this would be over. or, it would be over once you came.

before he was able to cum, you barged into his office and shut the door behind you, pulling him up by his hair and causing him to halt his movement. you’ve never seen him this desperate before.”

“seonghwa… look at you,” you chuckle quietly. “humping your pillow like a pathetic slut. you couldn’t even wait thirty minutes.”

“p-please, y/n i cant…” his glossy eyes look into yours. “touch me, p-please please please. i’ll be good, just please.”

“hm. you want me to touch you, pretty boy?” you raise your eyebrow then sit down on the sofa next to him. he struggles to even sit up, scooting closer and shoving his face into your neck. you get off the couch and crouch down in front of him, curling your fingers around his cock and admiring it. it was red and veiny, pulsing as if it was telling you to suck it off.

you loved how seonghwa’s body set off every sensor in your body. yeah, you loved taking control of him, but whenever you had the chance you couldn’t help but feel like you were slipping into sub space. his moans were so cute, you’d get drunk off of them.

opening your mouth, you enveloped his tip with your lips, causing his body to jerk and his hips to thrust up into your mouth. he pushed his cock further into your mouth, and you happily took him down your throat.

“g-god, your mouth…” he entangled his fingers in your hair, moaning loudly. he didn’t care about his coworkers hearing him anymore, he needed some sort of relief.

“you’re driving me crazy, y/n.” he whimpered. you bring your head back up and use both of your hands to wrap around his member. not even a second later, you were sucking him off as if you were in a porno. you were getting into it without giving him time to prepare.

“mm, my p-pretty girl,” seonghwa whimpers as he approaches his climax. his moans became louder and the grip on your head getting tighter. “y-you’re such a slut for me.”

then, seonghwa’s back arched. he placed both of his hands on the sofa and gripped onto the couch cushions, hips digging back into it as he moaned. you felt your mouth full with his juices. he was in complete ecstasy when you looked up, face flushed and his jaw hung. his thighs shook underneath you as he emptied his load inside your mouth.

it was tingly, it was good, and he felt like you were milking him dry. and as you swallowed his mess, your hand grazed his shaky thigh gently as a way to calm him down. he didn’t have a clue whether to keep his mouth open or close it. his orgasm was so powerful, his mind went blank.

“p-please, please please please…” seonghwa begs silently, chest heaving. “you’re so good, so so good for me. i love you, princess.”

you take your mouth off of his length and smile, finally getting up and pecking him on the lips.

“i love you too, my prince.”

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