03/29/2022 11:01 PM 

trouble in paradise.

* thnk you to mama vic for letting me feat. cash in some work!!! also - for those reading and going "who tf is stone" (there's a lot of new ppl here hi), he's an NPC - was lennon's first husband. now dead. thanks bye lmfalksdjakl 

SUMMER 2017

“You made me look like a f***ing idiot,”
Stone’s voice booms through the small apartment we shared, his presence consuming every open inch of floorspace that it could find. Even if I wanted to run and hide, I couldn’t.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say softly, pushing the vegetables around in the pot with the end of a spatula. It wasn’t a complete lie, I didn’t know what set him off this time – it seemed like everything I did made him angry in some aspect.

“Don’t play f***ing dumb, Lennon.” I could feel him now, his chest pressing against my back, his hand gripping on my arm. He spins me around before I can shake him off. “What the f*** do you think you’re doin’ lookin’ at Cash like that?”

Oh. That.

I didn’t realize it was so noticeable. Or that I was being watched as I watched someone else. Cash had been hard to ignore most of the time, his presence just as consuming as Stone’s. I wasn’t usually this ballsy, f***ing around with two men in one club — but I couldn’t beat the rush that it gave me. Cash was who I went to when I wanted to be disrespected — he didn’t give a sh*t about anything more than a quick f***, and I was fine with that. We had a mutual understanding that that’s all it would be. And Stone . . . Stone was who I went to when I needed to be loved. When I needed to feel something more than disappointment. I didn’t expect to fall for him, but dammit, he made it f***in’ hard not to. And when we started hanging out more frequently, I stopped talking to Cash. At least, I tried to. He knew how to sweet talk me just enough to get me right under his spell one more time.

But one more time became two more times, and that became three more . . . and then I was sleeping with him any time Stone pissed me off. I knew it wasn’t healthy, that it wasn’t going to help me solve my problems with Stone, but if he wanted to be an a**hole then so could I.

I wanted to have my cake and eat it too.

My shoulders shrug in response to his question, but words fail to escape my mouth. “You think its f***in’ funny to embarrass me in front of the club?” A thick hand grips my face, squeezing my cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, forcing my vision upwards to look at him. “Because I didn’t think it was very f***in’ funny. I don’t give a sh*t what you did with Cash in the past, or what you wish you did with him, but if I ever find you lookin’ at him like that again, I’ll kill both of you, you hear me?”

“I wasn’t –” I start to protest, but he only squeezed harder, making it hard to form words.

“Lennon. I ain’t f***in’ around,” his brown eyes stare into me like daggers, the anger on his face hard to ignore. “You’re my ol’ lady. I don’t f***in’ share.”

His ol’ lady.

As if he f***ing owned me. As if I was his property. “If that’s your way of askin me, I’m sayin’ no.” I mumble, trying to lighten the mood. By the look on his face, I can tell it didn’t work. With an agitated sigh, Stone releases my face, pushing it slightly away from him as he steps away. I ignore the sting in my cheeks. “I’m sorry . . . I won’t look at Cash anymore.” I wasn’t sure how truthful that was, but . . . I really did like Stone. And if he wanted me to be his ol’ lady, then I’d respect his wishes and leave Cash alone.

“I don’t want you hangin’ out at the clubhouse without me,” he says, his voice much softer now, though the anger is still apparent on his face. “And I swear to god Lennon, if I hear you’re there by yourself, you’ll regret it.”

“I won’t go by myself, jeeze..” I exhale a small sigh, walking over to where he stood at the fridge, slipping my arms around his waist. “So… you want me to be your ol’ lady, huh?” A small grin tugs at my lips, small kisses peppering his tattooed shoulder blade.

He doesn’t say anything, just rolls his eyes with a smile, looking at me over his shoulder. “You’re burning my onions and peppers.”

03/10/2022 04:27 PM 

facts about lennon


( 1 ) Lennon had two dogs, HARLEY and DIESEL as well as three cats, TIPPER, BUDDY, and FLAPJACK when she was growing up. Her parents got Harley, a black lab, the same time they got pregnant with Lennon, so she was classified as her dog. 

(  2  )  Used to be in a pop-punk band called RACOON EYES, conviently named after the copious amount of eyeliner she wore in high school. They didn't last very long - due to the fact that they weren't good.

(  3  )  Enjoys spending her time reading. When the kids are asleep, she can usually be found sitting on the couch with a glass of wine ( pre-pregnancy ) and a book with her feet in her husband's lap as he watches tv. 

(  4  )  Her only living relative that she's aware of is her grandfather, Patrick. He lives in Orlando, Florida and enjoys spending his time golfing. 

(  5  )  Absolutely HATES mushrooms. 

(  6  ) Broke her elbow while jumping on a trampoline with the neighbors kids when she was five. 

(  7  ) Had a bad nicotine addiction for most of her life. She once smoked a pack a day, but has severely cut down since then - now will only pick up a cigarette when she's drunk or when she's stressed. 

(  8  ) Has seen every season of JERSEY SHORE at least ten times and will most definitely watch them ten more times, too.  

(  9  ) Watches THE LITTLE MERMAID as a comfort movie when she feels sad. 

(  10  )  Has a collection of crystals lying around her house; in various windowsills, in random jars, on every bookshelf and in every corner of the house. Her favorites are AMETHYSTLABRODORITE, and MOSS AGATE

(  11  ) Knows how to read tarot cards and finds enjoyment in spooking her friends out when she reads them for them at parties. 

03/10/2022 04:27 PM 

come back home.

i miss your touch &
the way you’d whisper
my name in the dark -

your breath on my skin as
you’d tell me you love me,
pulling me in closer to the
warmth that radiated off of you,
the warmth that enveloped
my heart & sent shivers down my

s
    p
        i
           n
                e


i miss your lips, &
the way they fit so
perfectly when pressed
against mine. i didn’t
realize how badly i’d
need them now.

our house feels so empty
without that smile lighting
up every room. without your
laughter echoing off the walls.

without you here with me.

your side of the bed sits
vacant, hoping for the return 
of your warmth -

and so am i.

03/10/2022 04:26 PM 

home.

Home.

That’s what he feels like. The corners of your lips tug upwards into a smile anytime your mind is consumed with thoughts of him. The twinkle in your eyes shines a little brighter when he walks through the front door. You never really believed in love until the words were muttered from his lips, his voice soothing an ache in your soul that had felt heavy for so long.

You feel unworthy of his love, of the life you’ve created together. What could someone as perfect as he find appealing about you? He was everything. And you were nothing.

At least, that’s what your head tells you.

He tells you how beautiful you look when you wake up, kisses your morning breathed lips, and never fails to mention how much you mean to him at any given moment. He surprises you with little tokens of appreciation, and puts your mind to rest when it’s busy overthinking. He listens to you talk about your favorite books and movies that you’ve seen a million times, and makes promises to watch them with you because he knows it’ll make you happy. He’s patient and understanding, he’s calm, he’s radiant.

He balances you in ways you didn’t think were possible.

And when your arms wrap around his waist, and he pulls you in closer so he can breathe in your scent, and you feel his muscles relax under your touch, any worries you have disappear.

Because you’re his home, too.

03/10/2022 04:26 PM 

therapy.

tw: mentions of miscarriage

“I feel like I’m going to fail,” I said softly, blue orbs staring at my hands in order to avoid eye contact with my therapist. I had skipped so many sessions since my miscarriage, and probably would have skipped this one too if it hadn’t been for my husband pushing me to go. He’d seen me at my lowest, and even now - when things are supposed to be happy and carefree, the negative thoughts still find their way into my head. My hand moves to my stomach, and I let it sit there for a moment, hoping that I’ll feel any sign of life inside, though I knew it was too early to feel that baby kick.

“Are you afraid of having another miscarriage?” My therapist asks, and when my eyes move to his face, a frown pulls at his lips.

I don’t say anything. He knows the answer, it’s lingering above our heads like a heavy cloud that won’t dissipate.

He shifts in his seat, placing his papers on the desk besides his chair. “My wife had three miscarriages before we had our son,” he said. “It was probably the worst time of my life . . . of our lives. I couldn’t imagine the pain that she felt, it had to have been way worse than what I was feeling. I woke up every day wondering why God gave us something and then ripped it away from us just as quickly.” His vision shifts away from me now, as if those feelings found their way back to him. “I know that it’s scary, to fall pregnant after a miscarriage. You wonder if you’ll wake up one day and it’ll all be gone again . . . But, you were given a little miracle. And maybe it may not seem like it now, but once you really start to show, and you hear it’s little heartbeat, I hope all those fears of failure fade away.”

It saddened me that he understood the fear. That he didn’t write it off as irrational like everyone else seemed to. He knew the heartache. He understood the pain and sorrow and guilt that followed along with it. My hand rubs at my small bump, still hoping for a sign that things are alright. “What if I don’t make it?”

His face softens as he glances in my direction, his hand reaching up to take his glasses off of his face. I watch as he sets them down on the desk beside him. “Then you take the time you need to heal, and you try again.” He offered a sympathetic smile. “You’re a great mother, Lennon. Don’t doubt yourself or your maternal duties because God had a different plan.”

I didn’t want to tell him that I didn’t believe in God, not after all he’s taken from me. But I listened, and I smiled softly as he confided in me.

I don’t know if I’ll ever get over my fear of losing this baby. Or if I’ll get over the fear of being a failure - to my husband and children that are so, so excited about this new little one. All I’ve wanted my entire life was to be a better parent to my children than the ones that were given to me, and maybe this was the universe’s way of telling me I wouldn’t be. I try so hard to give them a great life, to shelter and protect them from the evils of this world. It hurt me to know my body didn’t want to do the same. But, I know that causing myself stress won’t be helpful either, and this little miracle needed me to be just as strong as I needed them to be, too.

02/21/2022 04:42 PM 

one, two, three.

January 4th, 2022

Something didn’t feel right.

Nausea set in after breakfast, and I found myself with my face in the toilet bowl, stomach retching up the cinnamon raisin toast and bacon I consumed just a half hour prior. Normally, food didn’t affect me like this, and it raised questions within. There was no way I could be pregnant . . . At least, that’s what I told myself. It was easier to push the thought away than get my hopes up, knowing there was a chance we would have another negative test. It had been months since my miscarriage, and since then we had given up the desire to even try. But even knowing that, it still hurt my heart every time a test came back with one line instead of two.

Wiping my face with toilet paper, I cleaned myself up and stood slowly, letting my body adjust to the movement in order to not make myself dizzy. I flushed the contents of my stomach down the toilet, and washed my hands, staring at the woman staring back at me in the mirror. For so many months, I’ve hated myself for not being able to give my husband another child - hated the body that betrayed me the very moment I was given the chance. It made me feel crazy to think that there could be a tiny human living in the comfort of my belly right now, but I found myself smiling at my reflection as a hand fell to my midsection on instinct.

The moment quickly faded though as the harsh reality of knowing that I hadn’t been so lucky in the past set in.

Maybe it just wasn’t in the cards for me.

I found my husband in the living room with our dog Mikey laying at his feet on one end of the couch, the kids playing with their toys on the floor beside the other. The image made me smile; I really did have a perfect family, one that was full of pure, authentic love. But sometimes I wish I was able to give them more. Picking my purse up off the ottoman by the front door and my keys from the hook that rested on the wall next to it, I offered a small smile in Ferg’s direction as his eyes wandered my way. “I’m just gonna run to the store real quick. Do you need anything?”

“Ice cream!” Lilah shouted with a big smile, and I laughed.

“Yeah, what she said,” Ferg said with a grin, before flipping his attention back to the television. I didn’t want to tell him what I was really going for, and I felt thankful that he didn’t ask as I slipped out the front door and made my way to the car.

The drive to the pharmacy was relatively short, and I tried to distract myself with music, though nothing really helped. My mind seemed to race in every direction - what if I really was pregnant? Was I stupid for wanting to believe I was? How am I going to feel when a negative pops back up on the test? I hated that I always went back there; that I always deemed myself a failure for not being able to create life.

I exhaled a sigh as I exited the car, making my way into CVS. I had been here so frequently in the last few months, I was starting to wonder if the cashier’s had known my name. I moved slowly, almost afraid that if I picked up another test, it would be a death sentence to the fake baby I envisioned in my mind. But I knew I couldn’t stand here forever, and truthfully, I’d rather get it over and done with. After scanning the boxes for ten minutes, I finally reached down and grabbed one.

“Still no luck?” The cashier asked as I placed the box on the counter. She was older, about mid sixties with silver locks on top of her head, a slight frown on her face as she ran it over the scanner.

“I.. uh..” I didn’t really know how to answer that question. Not that it was any of her business in the first place.

“Sorry, dear. I wasn’t trying to be rude. I’ve seen you in here a few times, and I know the struggles . . . I just wanted to let you know I’ve been praying for you. I hope this one gives you the results you want,” she said, her lips curling to a small grin. “That’ll be $15.87.”

I paid for the test and left immediately, the conversation - or lack thereof, leaving me with an uneasy feeling as I exited the store. I knew she meant well, but pregnancy was a touchy subject right now, and it most definitely was not something I wanted to discuss with the front end help at CVS.

I almost made it all the way home before remembering I promised Lilah ice cream, feeling so flustered that I almost forgot. I made a quick trip into the closest grocery store on the way home before heading back to my family.

I dropped the groceries on the counter, tucking the box in my shirt sleeve. I wasn’t sure why I was nervous this time around, or why I felt the need to hide the test from Ferg. I was afraid of disappointing him again, and I suppose I thought that hiding it meant he wouldn’t have to know. “I’m gonna take a quick shower,” I said softly. “Do you mind putting the groceries away?”

“Of course not,” Ferg said, sitting up on the couch before he raised a brow in my direction. “You feelin’ okay?” He asked, Irish accent thick on his tongue.

“I’m fine, promise.” I hated that he knew me well enough to know when something was wrong. A fake smile snaked its way across my face, hoping it reassured him enough before slipping into the bathroom down the hall. Locking the door behind me, I released a sigh, hands shaking as I dropped the test onto the counter and made my way over to the shower to start the water. ‘Okay Lennon, just take the test.. No matter what it says you’ll be okay,’ I told myself as I ripped open the wrapper.

I cleaned myself up after doing my business, placing the test face down on the marbled surface.

I was too afraid to watch.

Too afraid to know the results.

The three minutes felt like three hours as I waited for the ‘beep’ from the test to indicate that it was ready to turn over, and when it finally sounded, I was almost too afraid to do it. I didn’t realize how badly I wanted this. How badly I needed this. Closing my eyes, a shaking hand reached for the plastic, keeping it faced down in my hand. “Remember, no matter what it says, you’re okay. You’re happy with the life you have. With the kids you have. This doesn’t mean you’re a failure,” I said aloud, exhaling a sigh.

“One . . .” I opened my eyes.

“Two . . .” I flipped the test over, but kept my vision forward.

“Three. . .”

02/21/2022 04:30 PM 

limbo challenge

*limbo challenge can be found via vic's bulletins! Since Lennon technically lived in Malvada, I didn't include ms. Mona tempting her with anything, because her deed had already been done, and instead focused on what her biggest fear would be. I had fun writing this one, and I hope y'all enjoy it since it's something different 🥴 lol. Thanks for lookin! 



I knew better than to step foot in Slaughter Forest.

I had lived in Malvada long enough to hear the stories, to hear of the suicides and the carnage that plagued every inch of the ground, hidden behind rows of trees that taunted me with every step forward. I hadn’t planned on coming here, and often avoided it at all costs . . . but something drew me closer to the edge of the forest, and I found myself teetering my feet over the entrance.

One foot in, one foot out.

It gave me time to really think of what I was doing, but the temptation and unknown pulled me further in, and I found myself walking deeper into the woods. Truthfully, I had no idea where I was going, and it showed with each step I took. It wasn’t long until the clear edge of the forest faded further and further from my sight. The sun that once shined bright above now seemed dimmer, the air thicker. My skin felt stickier, as a cold sweat coated the back of my neck, and the feeling of dread crept up on me faster than I anticipated.

Something wasn’t right.

“Lennon,” a faint voice calls from behind me, but when I spin around, I’m smacked in the face with the reality that I’m alone.

‘There’s no one there, Lennon. Just keep focused,’ I tell myself, though I was still unsure of why I was here in the first place. It wasn’t too late for me to turn around and go back home to Limbo, but the further I stepped in the forest, the more the thought dissipated from my mind. The voice called my name again, though it seemed closer than before, and panic began sinking in. I wasn’t alone in these woods.

I wanted to turn around, but I was afraid of what - or who - might be behind me. The panic consumed me as I continued my trek forward, the voice following behind. It seemed to get louder the further I got from the entrance of the forest, yelling my name until the voice was practically in my ear.

“LENNON!! LENNON!! LENNON!!”

I stopped.

The voice . . .

“Stone??” I turned around, expecting to see my dead husband standing behind me, but was met with an empty trail, no one in sight. “This isn’t funny!!” I shout, anxiety forcing my heart to beat faster than normal as I turn back around. I was no stranger to seeing Stone’s apparition, especially home in Limbo, but something about this didn’t seem right. It didn’t seem like him.

“Lennon,” the voice said again, this time a warm breath covering the back of my neck. It sent a shudder down my spine, and the sound of a branch breaking behind me told me I no longer stood alone. On instinct, I closed my eyes, afraid that if I opened them, I’d be staring death in the face directly. “Look at me Lennon!”

My head shook no, but I couldn’t help the curiosity that crept up. I was tempted to peek, but fear sat heavy on my chest. “No,” I said, voice cracking.

“Lennon, look at me! Look at me! Look AT ME!” He shouted, until I finally couldn’t handle it anymore, eyes opening to stare my late husband in the eye.

Only, it wasn’t him.

It looked like him, but his mouth was twisted in a devilish grin, teeth sharpened, his skin pale and sunken in. He looked f***ing awful. “Look at what you did to me, Lennon.”

My stomach churned.

“Look at what you did to me!”

“I didn’t do anything to you!” I shouted, closing my eyes again, my fear building as he took a step towards me.

“No?” An ice cold hand gripped my chin, and the touch caused me to jump, eyes opening. He forced my gaze to look at the needle in his arm, my body going limp. If it weren’t for how tight he held onto my face, I probably would have fallen over. “You did this to me! You gave me the drugs!”

“N-no!” I stammered, trying to free myself from his grip.

“You bought the heroin the day before I shot up. YOU GAVE ME THE DRUGS!” His voice boomed in the air around us, his touch so cold that it started to burn my skin.

I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have allowed my curiosity to get the best of me. Shaking myself from his grip, I stumbled backwards, falling to my butt on the muddy trail. “I didn’t kill you! I didn’t!” I said, voice cracking as tears welled in my eyes. I didn’t kill him. I didn’t. I know I didn’t. “I didn’t do this!”

“YOU KILLED ME AND THEN YOU THREW ME AWAY LIKE I WAS TRASH!” He shouted, moving to hover above me in a swift motion. He felt so real, felt so strong as he pinned my hands to the ground beneath me, his breath warm on my face. “That was your plan all along! You wanted me dead so you could live your happy little life without me. You didn’t love me. You killed me, Lennon. You killed me!”

I tried to push him off, but his strength outnumbered my own, and I suddenly had no fight in me. “I didn’t! I didn’t do it. I didn’t,” I cried, legs kicking underneath me as I tried to free myself. My panic ate at me, and it felt hard to breathe, my chest burning with every breath I took. “I didn’t do it,” I said again.

I didn’t kill him. I didn’t force the needle into his vein. I swear I didn’t…

[ This blog post is private ]

[ This blog post is private ]

02/01/2022 02:37 PM 

alksjkajsd

 SUGAR: 

1. Share a photo of yourself in an outfit that you normally don't wear:


2. Make a 5-song playlist of your cheesiest love songs: 
glad you exist - dan & shay | better together - luke combs | when you look me in the eyes - jonas brothers | endlessly - the cab | kiss me slowly - parachute 

3. Share the significance of a memento:
I kept the bouquet from my wedding; it's currently  hung upside down & dried out on the wall above my vanity in our bedroom. 

4. Create a colour scheme based on your hair, skin, eyes and lips:


5. Describe your ideal date using smells only:
coconut, husband's cologne, garlic bread

6. Write an appreciate post for a writer you admire but haven't spoken to:
jagerbomb: your edits blow me away, and your writing is just as phenomenal. thank you for sharing your talent with us all! 

7. What are some examples of your 'love language'? 
texting someone to say something made me think of them, buying little gifts for someone any time i'm at the store or see something that reminds me of them, quality time, keeping my hands/feet on my partnet at all times in some aspect (ie: holding hands/cuddling)


 SPICE: 

1. Write a six-word story of the worst date you've ever had: 
He said "so what, no head?"

2. Make a 5-song playlist of your steamist 'bedroom' songs:
greenlight - jonas brothers | by myself - pardison fontaine | earned it - the weekend  |  do i wanna know - the artic monkeys  |  i feel it coming - the weekend

3. The last r-rated message / text / voicemail you sent: 
' I'll show you the butt '

4. Your ideal 'lovemaking' session in the form of a list of ingredients: 
2 cups of heavy making out,  2 cups 

5. DESCRIBE YOURSELF USING ONLY DIRTY TALK:

6. THE LAST FIVE THINGS IN YOUR SEARCH OR BROWSER HISTORY:

7. WRITE A SMUTTY DRABBLE (100 WORDS OR LESS . . .) AS YOUR GENDERBENT! FC:

*credit to brass devil, for these! 

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