#Like as in she Can be a decent spy when she puts her mind to it. It comes with spying on Potential Organization Members for fun

[cak31ssuperi04]

[waokevale]

What is everyone's power in your AU

Charlie can grow claws and cause people to hallucinate, she can see through most disguises and can read people's fears, she can corrupt creatures, but she has learned to control that ability and doesn't corrupt anyone at will. She can also fade into her shadow form, if she feels like spying on people.

Maxwell can "multiply" himself, he can also enter his shadow form but it's much more draining for him. He still has most of his magician tricks and uses shadow magic on regular basis, just without the codex umbra. Both he and Charlie can create tiny shadow monsters to spy on people and gather information about them long distance, if they prefer to personally stay put.

Wilson is of shadow origin here, though he is very much unaware of it. The only ones who are aware are Charlie and Max, while the rest of them are clueless. He can turn into a shadow beast, melt away into puddles of dark fuel, turn most things he touches into dark tethers and is ridiculously strong in this form. He can't control it however and assumes he's been cursed/corrupted.

Wolfgang has his super strength with a similar downside as in the game. He often shrinks when he's not doing anything super labor inducing, so many underestimate him as a bouncer and fighter. (Only to be proven very very wrong)

Willow obviously has her pyrokinesis, she has her lighter at all times, which she uses as a pocket fire storage. She almost burned the place a couple of times and got harshly reprimanded. Her corrupted form is a creature made of flames.

Wendy (And Abigail) can communicate with spirits and shadows. Both of them have the ability to "switch" between the body, though Wendy is the original host as Abigail did in fact die before. They can also see auras and people's true intentions.

Both Webber and Wurt have enhanced animalistic abilities. Webber can climb walls and make webs (from his hands🙌), has venom and better vision, While Wurt can jump really high, swim fast, breathe under water, and have a decent night vision. The downside is neither has currently access to their minions, though it is possible for them to acquire them at some point.

Woodie has a device that helps him switch between his forms and control them better, so he can transform at any time he uses it. Thanks to this he can also keep his mind together while being transformed. He can also partially transform to use one of his animal abilities to his aid. (For example transform his arm into a hoof to gain strength, or transform his arms into wings when he's in a situation that requires to use them) And yes it's the collar, no, the others won't change it for humorous reasons.

Wickerbottom has her super intelligence, mixed with bits of telepathy and telekinesis, she's pretty strong when give the chance but prefers to stay out from battles. She can write a spell on anything, and while she embraces her witchcraftian ancestry, she tends to stray from that path and instead use gadgets more often, since unlike the constant she doesn't have the free range to use the more destructive spells, in order to not cause much damage. (The others don't care though and cause damage anyway)

Wigfrid can control people with her songs, easily empowering her allies and weakening her enemies with them. She can also partially steal away someone's strength or life force.

Wes has mime powers, he can imagine any tool into existence for a certain amount of time, but if he gets distracted, it vanished/turns into something else. He also has helium breath because canon.

Based on @starving-mimi 's idea, Walter can make his tales come true, though he's very unaware of this ability and just assumes he was right about whatever monster's existence he imagined. (And Woby still has access to her monstrous form, though Walter finds out about this later)

WX-78 (or Woodrow) is still very much a human gone steampunk, however here they're aided with conductors and electric weapons for combat. They don't have most of their circuits, because their upgrades are installed by Winona, who basically prepares them for a specific situation, those upgrades are often uninstalled post battle, since too many of them can cause them great malfunctions and seizures. Just like the monster kids, they have a bracelet on their arm which makes up their disguise. They absolutely hate it.

Warly can affect the quality of his dishes with his emotions. While the taste always stays excellent, it's the aftereffects that vary. If he's feeling upbeat and enthusiastic, he can 'boost' anyone who consumes his dishes, including himself. Their agility, strength and power can greatly improve for a certain amount of time. However when he's upset, he prefers to not cook for the others, as he worries it will make them weaker, lethargic and unprepared for future battles. He also make his magical dishes from the game, which can change ones temperature, make them alight, immune to wetness, instantly improve their mental state etc.

Winona , due to a small exposure to corruption has the ability to immediately know how to construct something, just by giving it one look, she also understands how to mix components in order to produce an efficient tool, this gives her the advantage to a greater success rate in engineering than most people. She embraces this ability and is thankful she didn't get the short end of the stick, like some of the others. She likes to engage in battles but is aware of how her ability pails in comparison to some of the others. She's only slightly jealous. This doesn't stop her from inventing bizarre aids for her coworkers.

Wormwood also has a disguise on, though provided by a different entity. He willingly hires himself at the Dinner Theater which is a rarity in that place. At first he only shows bits of his abilities, like speeding the growth proces of potted plants or producing flowers at will. Later on though his actual abilities start shining through, how he can control any type of plant, the quality of life of all plants surrounding him, create sentient beings from flora and is actually incredibly skilled in combat though prefers to hide this fact. Here he also has a stronger connection to his lunar side and psychic roots, he can hypnotize beings and induce a sleeping spell on them. He can communicate telepathically with people and plants alike and is well equipped in his lunar knowledge. (And any time you eat a watermelon seed, just remember, he could absolutely kill you from the inside, but chooses not to)

Wortox is still the imp who jumped through the ancient gateway, and has by this point already taken the soul of Krampus. He has his ability to hop through any universe at any time he wishes, so long as he has enough souls for each trip. This time he manages to find himself in a human realm. He dons a human disguise using his soul energy, though the more energy he uses on said disguise, the more drained he feels. He can still teleport, and kill most being just with sheer touch. He often wears gloves though that does little to help with his curse. He gets in contact with Charlie and is lightly coerced into helping her acquire stuff for her mission, thus the title "The Supplier". In turn, she, along her co-owner and employees engineers a device for him, which proves him able to touch people and lessens the chance of him accidentally stealing someone's soul. He's very greatful for it.

Wanda has the prominition ability and can see into the future, though with limitations. She still posseses her ailment of aging too quickly and has most of her clocks on, including the ones that can reverse people's age and turn back time, though with direct supervision from Charlie and Max, she's not allowed to be as free with their usage, due to their sheer potency and power. She usually stays behind to her own preference and fear of death, though when she actually is forced to engage in combat, rest assured, she will woop ass.

[princess-of-the-corner]

Was reading stuff on your Duchess Noire AU and had an idle thought. Chloe does discover Tikki but doesn't tell Marinette cos she fears Marinette won't trust Duchess anymore & will get hurt. This also feeds into her sneaking around & watching Marinette with her family and that whole… Everything but like even worse now cos she's full on putting Marinette on a pedestal which only serves to know her lower.

"Sooo, its a little weird that you're sneaking around my house spying on my family, but given you've kind of saved my life a few times by fighting Akuma, I figure I owe you the benefit of the doubt."

"The benefit of the doubt..." Duchess chuckles, no snickers into her paw like gloves like its some joke, but there's a sickeningly tight sort of wheeze to the sound that makes it feel like... Not a laugh.

Marinette swallows, and forces herself forward with the words, "So what brought you here, Akuma hunting maybe?"

Marinette watches as Duchesses stiff half poised to jump frame slacken and she simply plops down on the roof, staring at her. This drags on for nearly a minute as the heroes mouth slowly opens then snaps shut over and over as if she cannpt findf the words before finally she sags.

"I'm trying to figure you out."

"Me? I'm nobody special-"

"HAH! Are you for real?" There's a sort of wide eyes look to the heroine, words spilling out so fast they almost tumble from her fanged maw.

"Of course," She snaps back, not quite angry but increasingly worried about her partner and identity. "I mean you're a super hero-"

"I'm a wrecking ball who happens to make a decent damage sponge when Ladybug needs it. I'm not good for anything but hurting and breaking and being a punching bag, not really, I just happened to be pointed at things worse than me Marinette."

She looks her in the eyes and then away again, all the energy sapped from her frame as she murmured.

"I'm nothing like you, and that's the problem, that's what was always the problem I think. No one worthwhile whose met you has anything bad to say about you, in fact they adore you."

Se stood up and began pacing, tail swishing as her hands gesticulated wildly. "You have that creative brilliance that all truly exceptional artists should that lets you create things other people with more resources and time never could. Your parents don't just live with you they actually love you!"

Those last words seem to rip themselves out of her throat as she turns to look down at Marinette, still staring up at the heroine from her balcony as a sick, heavy dread settled in her stomach.

"Your parents love you," She mutters, practically collapsing atop the roof, a violent shudder running through her body, "And mine don't... So I must... I have to be doing something wrong... I just need to figure out what it is." She chokes whatever she was going to say back.

Marinette's mind races between options and explanations; sickness, akuma, maybe a fight? She knows Duchess can be dramatic and overreact at times, but then... Her parents don't live with her? Is it because they travel for work maybe-

Her thought process stops, Duchess is looking like she wants to run away, body tensing, feet beginning to pivot. Only them does she notice her parents making for the roof through the ladder in her room.

NOTES:

I recall hearing that Chloe just lives in a hotel suite and her dad has his own so while technically in the same building she's functionally on her own.

Also I always figured a lot of Chloe's hostility to Marinette was rooted in jealousy. Both seem to be in the same general 'tracks' at school, even art.

I always like ot HC the first two years of their relationship was more of a rivalry but a very harsh one given Chloe was stll chasutic but not as bad.

It, or more Chloe in general, worsened when they were twelve & Audrey came back for her birthday which Chloe was heavily involved in organizing down to the last detail to make her happy.

The party received no compliments, and Chloe was constantly sent away any time she tried to speak to her mother with some new insult about her clothes, or make up until essentially dismissed.

Locking herself in the bathroom she looked for what was wrong, missing or broken in her before finally losing it and just attacking the mirror, seriously injuring her hands and setting her art skills back to beginner levels.

After that she gave up on being better than Marinette and instead focused on tearing her down. Adrien may be aware of the mirror & party stuff but not how much it led to Chloe going from "Brat with a temper" to "Obsessive campaign against this one person who has everything she wants" that steadily spilled out into wildly direction-less antagonism at basically everything.

OOF YEAH THIS IS

Yeah it's.

I've written before on how while Chloé's overall behavior is a mirror of how her parents treat her and how they taught her to treat others.

Her focus on Marinette is because Marinette is so beloved by everyone despite the fact that she's 'lesser' and doing things 'wrong' (according to Chloé's template for 'Exceptional' given by her parents). Marinette has this perfect life with friends who genuinely like her and parents who do more than the bare minimum.

And there's jealousy and frustration. Chloé wants that life, and is confused why Marinette gets to have it.

[spinnysocks]

i've been sucked into a RDR2 fixation at the same time as my Lion Guard one. naturally, my mind crossed em over and BOOM! i present: The Outlanders in a human au where they're COWBOYS!!! buckle up >:)

also you don't have to know anything about rdr2 for this au! it's based loosely on some of the events and dynamics of the game, but i mostly wanted to develop a cool human au :3

under the cut cuz long post!

setting things up:

jasiri takes the role of dutch essentially. she is the leader of the "gang", as i'm gonna call it! although she was supposed to be head of the Hyena family, she and madoa rejected the town lifestyle and started their own together, the 'cowboy' life i suppose haha. their motto is something like 'Free, but Good'. their original gang (jasiri's clan in canon) has changed a bit over the years as the members slowly joined, and some died - the two of them have looked after wema and tunu together ever since their mother passed away

as the cowboy life appears pretty sketchy to most of the prideland townsfolk, jasiri and madoa started helping people wherever they could, however big or small. they gained the trust of the towns and started to move on to harsher parts, a desert called the Outlands. eventually, their smaller jobs transformed into the much bigger and more impactful goal of trying to help/see the good side of the land's notorious gangs. jasiri realised that's what she wanted overall - to help people, even if they hurt others, and hopefully change their ways. she wanted to help them live "Free but Good". obviously janja's gang was her first target....

janja's had a rough life. his mother and her infamous gang dropped off the face of the earth one day, so he and his friends were raised by mzingo's gang. seeing it as their means to survival, janja led his gang in town raids, stealing whatever they needed, even if it sometimes ended in the gang getting hurt or killing townsfolk. though it took a lotta standoffs between them, jasiri eventually got them to see eye-to-eye. she showed him how she was surviving without the need to kill innocent people, and with time they became the first gang she reformed! janja reminisces a lot about when he led his gang, but he wouldn't change his new life for anything, and he would defend his new gang till the end

mzingo and his gang followed janja's joining. it didn't take them much convincing- despite a few conflicting moral values- as it was a hard time even in the towns and they were pretty much going to starve without jasiri's help. the former Vulture gang members kinda work as spies for jasiri, specialising in being swift and able to spy from high vantage points on horseback. i'd say jasiri and mzingo have a decent friendship and work pretty well together on strategy; mzingo likes being able to put his brain to use and jasiri likes him not using his questionable strategies to kill people lol

the Jackal family were basically forced to absolute poverty. the only thing reirei and goigoi could really do to get enough for all of them was steal for money, food, travel, etc. it was the only way they thought they could survive, believing there was no help for them, and there wasn't for a while. with janja's gang- who somewhat threatened their livelihood- reformed, it was much easier for reirei and her family to take what they wanted from people, but jasiri's offer to her was pretty convincing... so after a few hard and lonely years, reirei accepts jasiri's help. she promises them food, warmth and community- kind of the only thing reirei ever wanted for herself, her husband and her children, and they get to live free too! she's just happy that her husband and children are happy, and that she can be too, even if she can have arguments with the other former gang leaders lol

kiburi's gang..... yeah they were definitely the hardest to convince. jasiri wasn't acquainted with them at all. they'd were a bit newer to the Outlands, coming there after some failed riot kicked them out of their town. but janja, mzingo and reirei knew them well. kiburi was very adamant that he didn't care for jasiri's lifestyle, that it was "too soft" for he and his gang, that they didn't want or need their help and that violence was just "what they did". jasiri had just about accepted defeat. that was until one night kiburi's gang were attacked by strangers who were too much for them, but jasiri's gang swooped in to save them, both from the attack itself and their bad wounds. if it wasn't for them, kiburi's gang would be dead. he doesn't have much of a choice but to sign off his leadership in exchange for the protection of his friends, which he decided inwardly matters more to him than being leader anyway. in joining the gang his personality doesn't change much from the outside, but you spend a little time with him and you realise he's a good guy beneath it all

the same sorta thing went for ushari and the Skinks. ushari grew up in the stuffy towns and he liked it well enough when he was left alone, but he just kept getting disrespected by people. it only took a few months for him to snap, and then it was him who was disrespecting by plotting against the different towns in the lands. his plans were pretty genius, especially with his acquaintances shupavu, njano and their gang called the Skinks, who just so happened to be the best spies in the lands. despite their lack of brawn and being far from well-off, together their plans were dangerous and could cause lots of townsfolk casualties. people also just kept getting tricked and robbed by the skinks. no one wanted anything to do with them, ushari, or anyone associated with them (ahem, kenge and sumu, ahem ahem)

there was a massive, brutal shootout between the Prideland townsfolk and the Outland gangs before they reformed. jasiri tried to stop it and reason with the gangs, but all hell broke loose as everyone started shooting. ushari was shot as jasiri was talking to him. he was genuinely considering being the first to join her side, as she'd shown him genuine kindness like no one else, but it ended in the shootout (you can guess who shot ushari. i am glaring at you bunga). jasiri and her gang tried everything but the wound was untreatable :( the guilt weighs on jasiri's shoulders as well as the skinks. initially they tried saving ushari themselves- finally putting someone else over being in a fight- but were surprised and inwardly thankful that jasiri tried so hard to save him, even if it was futile

after the shootout and ushari's death, shupavu's gang spent a few weeks aimlessly wandering, realising that stealing wasn't so fun or as easy now that ushari was gone. they kinda awkwardly shuffled into jasiri's gang when she next came to see em. they found it really hard to fit in or do 'good'. like most of them, they joined because they kinda had no choice but to. eventually they find their place, especially when kenge and sumu join

only ushari and the skinks knew, but kenge and sumu were at that shootout too. they went because ushari, shupavu and njano told them about it and What Else You Gonna Do In The Wild West lmao. it was pretty tragic when they found out ushari died, they didn't know bc they were caught up in the shootout and weren't really on the main scene until the shooting started. realistically they probably caused the most carnage; kenge is insane and sumu is a sniper. they left once it was all over, expecting to hear from their acquaintances, but shupavu and njano had to break the news to em. they were also completely unaware that the skink gang joined jasiri

almost forgot to talk about their history! sumu doesn't come from the pridelands/outlands, he travelled a long way bc he pretty much worked as a hitman sniper for criminals who wanted townsfolk killed. he wouldn't stay long in each place to avoid getting caught by law, but he stuck around the outlands because ushari was a cool guy he actually made friends with, and kenge too. in kenge's case, he's that guy who could like. crack your skull if he wanted to. he's really antagonistic and has been in loads of bar fights before being run out of towns, but they could never kill him because he's too good of a fighter and too strong. i guess like rasputin without the lust lmfao??

but yes! kenge and sumu were eventually convinced to join the gang when jasiri finally met them, in her eyes she saw another two misunderstood individuals on the wrong path and managed to reach out to them. she probably called them "friends" and that was the first time they'd ever heard any stranger be that kind to them. both of em were definitely the most uncertain and antsy about being in the gang, as they'd lived solitary before, but no one was really going to bother or push them. sumu's the almost-silent one who has cleaned up a mess before you even notice there was one (perks of being a sniper) and kenge's the guy ordering the best drinks for the camp (perks of being a former bar fighter)

speaking of what everyone does in the gang, i will be talking about that in a follow up post 👀 because i didn't realise how long this was!!!

i have loved building this au!! :3 there might be a few tweaks along the way as i try to find a good balance between the outlanders being from a kids show and the brutality of rdr2 lol. i think i'm starting to develop a story i like tho, just going to flesh out important events as i go along :)

[sunsetofdoom]

you belong to a lonely hearts club?!

Vette leaned into the cockpit, gauging Quinn’s mood.

She was starting to sound him out. He could be a dickhead, and he was certainly fun to annoy; but there were moments when he was easy to talk to, and she kind of needed one.

He seemed to be in a good mood. He was sitting in the pilot’s chair, per his irritating habit of “supervising” the autopilot like it was gonna take them somewhere completely off-course, and working on his datapad, which would work to bring up what she needed to talk about.

She sauntered inside, looking casual. He didn’t look up.

“Is Her Lordship well?” He asked. Another good sign- Nan was one of the few things they agreed on, mostly the fact that she shouldn’t be allowed to take stimulants until her hearts exploded. Quinn was one of the only people that Vette had seen manage to make Nan change her stubborn mind, and Vette could kind of direct her a little, so they had a decent Sith-wrangling-based relationship going.

“Yeah- she’s working off the last of the stims in the training room,” Vette told him, slouching in the copilot chair. “So, fair warning for big, sweaty Zabrak smell.”

“Appreciated,” Quinn said dryly, scrolling on the datapad with his eyes flicking rapidly back and forth. Apparently finished, he paused, then- strangely enough- hit the top of the screen, scrolling back to the beginning to re-read.

“Hey,” Vette started, trying to be diplomatic. “Not that the security on your datapad isn’t good...”

He put it down, raising an eyebrow at her. “You’ve been snooping again.”

“Not snooping!” She insisted. “You’re getting weird data-drops. I know you do a lot of spy shit, that could be a virus. I traced it back and they’re using a scrambler to mask the location, but the origin server is in-”

“Don’t,” Quinn interrupted, harshly. Vette blinked. Of all the places he could stop her, that was an interesting one.

“What?”

“Don’t-” He flushed gently, pale cheeks turning pink, and turned away. “Vette. Normally if I ask you not to do something, you do so immediately.”

“That’s true,” Vette shrugged. “But still. What?”

Quinn lowered his head to his hand, not looking at her. “Do not tell me where that server redirects from,” he gritted out.

Vette stared at him. She’d been dreading his inevitable spring into action trying to dig out who was sending him files with encrypted sources. “Who are you, and what have you done with Quinn?” she asked. “If you want to ransom him, I think he’s really only worth two credits and a cigarette, but-”

Quinn made that grimacing face that- Vette was pretty sure- meant he did actually think that was pretty funny but would never admit it in a million years. “Don’t.”

“Why?”

He just glared at her, and then busied himself back in his datapad- or pretended to, as he wasn’t scrolling. He just lingered over whatever he had loaded up on the screen. She leaned over, trying to see, and he flipped it over on his lap, exasperated.

“Come on!” Vette wheedled. “What is it? Isn’t this, like, standard spy stuff? They send you viruses, you go after them-”

“They aren’t viruses. That’s all you need to know.”

“Is it weird porn?” Vette asked, semi-sympathetically. He whirled on her, outraged, cheeks still pink. “I’m joking. I know droids don’t masturbate.”

He made the face again. Turning away, he stared determinedly out to the stars, apparently having decided to deny her the opportunity to peek at his datapad screen.

She sat in silence for a minute, calculating her approach. If she kept making jokes, she might get him to crack, or he could get fed up and tell her to get out. Blackmail? Could she blackmail him into telling her? Could she-

“Letters,” he said unexpectedly, and her lekku about stood on end in surprise. “They’re letters.”

She gaped at him. He flicked his eyes to her, and raised his head stubbornly. “You’ve no cause for concern as to the security risk,” he said with his nose in the air, “and can cease your prying now.”

“Letters?”

“You can cease your prying now,” he said again.

“Letters from who?” Vette asked, and then answered herself. “But you don’t know where from, and the scrambler, and you don’t want to know where- Stars alive, Quinn!”

“Don’t-”

“Are you part of a Lonely Hearts Club!?” Vette cried. This was a windfall. This was like getting a birthday present.

“That is not what it is!” Quinn insisted, the blush on his face saying otherwise.

“It is! Anonymous letters- are you out there playing the field? Are you trying to find some lady to have your pale sickly babies-”

“It is nothing like that,” Quinn set his face in stony resolve. “This is strictly intellectual.”

“Sure,” Vette drawled. “Imperial with stick chronically up ass seeks partner to remove-”

“I was not seeking anything,” Quinn said. He wasn’t outright angry, and he wasn’t yelling at her, both of which were weird. He seemed sort of desperate for her to understand, which made her check her mockery. “I was assigned a place in the Companions program, if you must know.”

“What’s that?”

He set his shoulders, sitting up straight. “The Imperial military,” he said with that tone of worshipful respect that made her want to barf, “has a program meant to provide soldiers with companionship.”

“Brothels,” Vette put in.

“No.” Quinn shot her down without looking at her. “Letter-writing with civilians. It is meant to foster morale and connections with the general populace.”

“And you got assigned to this?” Vette asked, and then answered herself. “Because you have no friends, right. Got it.”

He sighed in a way that indicated she was a trial on his soul.

“But those drops-” Vette tried to remember how many there had been. “Dude, I couldn’t even count how many there were.”

“Yes,” Quinn said, and his voice was softer than she’d ever heard it. “About a letter a month.”

“For how long?”

“Almost seven years now.”

Vette paused, blinking. The tenderness in his tone was startling, and something in his face had relaxed- even the cleft in his chin was less dickish. If it wasn’t for the Imperial uniform, he could’ve just been a regular guy.

He put his hand on his datapad. “I know them... quite well, now.”

“Okay, so you have a friend! That’s good! You could’ve just, uh, said that,” Vette said, starting to laugh. “What’s their name?”

His eyes flicked to her, and his lips pursed.

“I mean, you don’t know where they are,” Vette said, recalculating, “so they’re anonymous... so you... uh...”

“I don’t,” Quinn said, staring out at the stars. “We’ve... never exchanged names, or pronouns.”

The wistfulness of his tone fascinated her. Who was this guy? “So you don’t know anything?”

“I know everything,” he insisted with aggrieved dignity. “I know their values and personal philosophy; I know their feelings on art, music, literature, their studies...” He trailed off, staring down at the datapad in his gloved hands. 

“And you don’t know their name,” Vette put in for consideration.

“I don’t have to,” Quinn snapped. “I know their nature. I know them to be practical and wise and kind-spirited, and...” He seemed ashamed of himself, suddenly, and put his fingers over his lips.

And he was in love with them, Vette was just barely wise enough not to say out loud.

“This could be a ninety-year-old blind Houk,” she pointed out warningly. “They could have terrible indigestion. And body odor. And crack their knuckles, and-”

“Stop,” Quinn said, voice quivering. He held up his hand, face forced stern. “I’m aware. If I may, I would postulate that none of those things truly matter.”

Vette made a skeptical noise. 

“They’ve even influenced my opinion of yourself,” Quinn admitted, and it sounded very much like an admission; there was guilt in his tone. “and Her Lordship. I don’t... know that I would be here without them.”

“What?”

“Well,” Quinn started, in that tone that meant he was about to explain something, which he clearly loved doing, “I do have one suspicion- that they are an alien. They have told me they immigrated to the Empire from outside it, and they have a fascinating perspective on Iskelion from the opera Grotthalde et-”

“Uh huh,” Vette interrupted, hurrying him along before he started explaining Sith opera to her.

He shot her a look, but subsided. “My point being. I don’t know that without their influence I would have... treated yourself, or Her Lordship, with the tolerance I have.”

Vette rolled her eyes.

“Tolerance that you deserve,” he added magnanimously.

“Wow,” Vette deadpanned. “Kudos to them for making you less of a jerk? I guess.”

Admittedly, he had stood up for her more than once when some Imp started being a fathier’s ass about her species. And he walked her to the taxi stops on Dromund Kaas, which when pressed he had admitted was to stop her getting catcalled. Maybe this pen pal was having an effect.

He cleared his throat. “Regardless,” he said with the tone of a quick subject change. “they’ve greatly enriched my life. I have no desire to be... unsportsmanlike, by finding out who they are.”

Vette laughed. “Yeah, no. That’d be cheating.” She elbowed him, or tried to- he leaned away, and her elbow hit the center console. “C’mon. You wanna meet ‘em. You know it.”

“That is untrue,” he insisted. 

“You wanna meet ‘em and figure out whether they’re a hundred years old with bad breath,” Vette pressed. “Or a Trandoshan with a massive criminal enterprise, or-”

“I enjoy their company on an intellectual level,” he stated firmly. “Regardless of- halitosis,” and that was actually a twist of a smile at the corner of his mouth, “or any other flaws.”

“That’s noble,” Vette drawled. “You can’t even stand it when Nan leaves clothes on the floor. Or when I tinker with the engines.”

“Her Lordship’s personal habits are her own, so long as she keeps them confined to her quarters without demanding services from me that are best left to a cleaning droid. And the only time I object to your tinkering is when it brings the ship out of Regulation parameters for a warship of this size and class.”

“Yeah, we’d hate to have the fastest and best-armored ship on the block. That’d be terrible.”

“The issue,” Quinn explained loudly, “becomes one of permits and docking regulations-”

“Sorry, you’ll have to excuse me,” Vette imitated his accent briefly as she stood, “I have an urgent appointment with short-sheeting your bed, you tightwad.”

“Your Imperial accent is terrible,” Quinn said into his datapad as she left.

The main area of the ship was colder than the stuffy cockpit, and Vette shivered as her lekku twitched. She was starting to pick up Nan’s pheromones- Zabrak hormones were usually a little too potent for Twi’lek to be around comfortably, like an intense smell, but apparently she was adjusting, because she would actually twitch with recognition every time Nan entered a room.

“Hey there, boss lady," Vette greeted.

Nan, coming out of the training room dripping with sweat, grunted. She toweled off her head, snagging the fabric on her horns and making the ground shake as she stomped. Twice Vette’s size in every direction, she moved like a mountain on her way through the common area, dressed in nothing but loose exercise pants, her (admittedly excellent) tits unprotected on her broad, tattooed chest.

“What’cha doin’?” Vette asked, cautious. Nan was better when she was coming off the stims than when she was high, but by the time she cycled down into withdrawal, she became an unholy asshole.

“Gotta sleep,” Nan rumbled, dropping the damp towel on the floor. “Worked off the high.”

“Good to hear,” Vette said, and followed her a little ways, hustling to keep up. You’d think that such a large woman would be slow and ponderous; you’d be wrong. “You gonna be okay on your lonesome? I could sit up with y-”

“Don’t need to be baby-sat,” Nan waved her off. “Wake me when we’re there.”

Without waiting for an answer, she disappeared into the gloom of her quarters, and the door whizzed shut right in front of Vette’s nose.

“Thanks,” Vette said into the metal, stung. Nan wanted to have her withdrawal-induced heart attack in peace, apparently.

And since when did that woman actually sleep, anyways? Nan was a renowned insomniac. Either she’d pilfered some sedatives from the medical bay- and was due a finger-shaking lecture from poor Quinn- or she was in there doing something else. Something she just didn’t want Vette’s company for.

Jerk.

-

Nan closed her eyes. She could feel the aftershocks of the stims leaving her- the vibrant, brilliant high of battle was long-gone, and now the sickness and shaky mania of the aftertaste were fading as well.

She had a few short hours of clear-headedness before the withdrawals set in, making her short-tempered and clouded. A little time of being the most herself that she was capable of being these days.

Sitting on her bare bed, sheets sweaty and blankets kicked into a grangled knot, Nan took the old datapad out of her bedside table. It wasn’t the one she’d been given as a Sith, the one she used to report to Baras. It was her former Master’s, assigned to her for her studies- of language, Basic and High Sith, and literature and history.

Opening the messages, she searched for a new drop. Her last letter had been written in a hurry- after Nar Shaddaa, her last stimulant high chased with a little time when she was able to concentrate. And her soldier hadn’t responded yet.

They’d taught her Basic- offering corrections to her grammar and phrasing that were far more gentle than her Master’s lightning. They recommended books with a quiet, aching enthusiasm. They admitted that she had given them an excuse to read novels they hadn’t revisited since childhood, a small comfort in their life on the battlefield.

Every time they took too long to respond, she worried for her first friend.

Soothing herself, she opened old letters- the only way she was able to sleep sometimes, settled by their correspondence.

To my Dearest Companion;

Thank you for your quick response. I confess that your letters make my long days easier to bear- that a kindred spirit, a companion one might say, exists within this ever-expanding galaxy is a balm to my nerves on even the most trying day. The alert tone is a comfort to me, knowing that I have someone to whom I can write. A solace. (I am not sentimental by nature; pray do not think less of me for this admission.) Gladly would I deprive myself of sleep for this comfort; I reply now with my gathered resources, ready to cite and to analyze!

To the subject at hand: you say that Ikselion is the first recorded alien character with an arch of development within Sith literature, and I find myself skeptical. Was this a clever factoid from some article? I believe you capable, my Dear Companion, of reading a great many things; but if you have read all of Tzeiven’s oeuvre, and all of his contemporaries, and all his predecessors, I will give you your due as the most accomplished of scholars.

Still, despite my disbelief, I cannot find a source to contradict you; your assertion stands, for the moment. I will continue to dig. 

Regardless, Ikselion seems to gain more depth with every earlier version I find, though I have very little access. The 6715 revision opera is the earliest I have uncovered, and I had to bring all my slicing prowess to bear to find it at all. I was astonished by the depth of his pain in the translation I found, his agonizing over the decision to betray Annasti at the height of her power. I believe I’ve told you before- I had a novelisation of the 2941 rewritten opera when I was a child, and the more I uncover behind the revisions, the more astonished I am by the spectrum of emotion that was denied to me. Perhaps they believed that children oughtn’t be exposed to such feelings before they are old enough to discover for themselves how terribly love can wound...

Nan closed her eyes on their words, remembering the comfort of finding the missive waiting for her after a long day fighting for her Master. Everyone else in the Galaxy looked at her and saw a stupid, primitive beast; an alien that could hardly speak, let alone read. She was content with this- there was safety in being underestimated, despite the damage it did to her pride.

But this person, this brave and steady little soldier of hers, knew her most secret heart. Her Dear Companion, anonymous and far-away.

Perhaps in the next letter, she could suggest they meet. She’d been toying with the idea for months, ever since she got her ship. But her nerves kept tripping her up. Nan Kris was not a cautious woman by nature- but to risk losing this, the best and quietest connection in her life?

They could look at her and see a stereotype- a Zabrak barbarian with sharpened horns and claws, savage and strange. And unlike everyone else in the Galaxy, their gaze could wound her.

Nan fell into a thin and restless sleep, into half-dreams where she met her Dear Companion, and they looked exactly right, just how she’d imagined them- but when she woke, she had no memory of their face.

[fgjjfg-blog1]

Before you say anything I never specified that my leaving is going to be permanent. I knew that will come back some day.

Also this a masterpost showcasing my aus that I made. (WARNING:A lot of it is subject to change and their will be bad drawings that I will remake.)

Spyfell:

In world where the black and white faction are devide as ever and in a less shitty state are an ex spy and a soldier who left their work because on unsatisfaction and disagreement with the government thanks for fell!gray (for fell!black) and fell!purple (fell!white) . (Also the even happened after the "good ending" where they realise the flaws in their faction, leaving their nations behind and become friends since I don't think I could write a political drama or anything like that.)

Azriel(Fell!White) :

He is an experiment created by the government as weapon. It his past he was tested in almost lethal ways which lead to trauma. He is a bug eyed, caring, timid, nervous, interested in helping others for the sake of it, clever and somewhat flamboyant person. His left his job as agent due to disagreement with the government and because he felt horrible here because of his sexuality. Due the fact he is an expiriment, he has cat-like eye that can see in the dark pretty decently and feathers as body hair. Also I imagine him having a toy ship that he use to play and protend to be a captain to combat the stress out as a kid. Also he likes listening to old early 20 centuries music. Here's some references sheets and concept art:

casual outfit

Casual outfit concept 2

Formal work outfit pixel art.

Kazimir(Fell:Black):He is ex-corporal who left his job due to disagreements with the government and doubt if he is doing the right thing. He loyal, brave, unstressed, a bit stubborn person, close off (used to), doesn't talks his fellings and later secretly really interested in jrpgs and his favourite is UNDERFELL. (Yep, underfell just exist as an indie game the same way undertale does in our world)

Early version plus concept:

Remake:

Fell!Gray:

I haven't design her and purple yet but Imagine her formal outfit being both gray and purple. Beside that she a vigilante who help Kazimir change his mind about his ruling when he started losing thrust in them. They met when Kazimir was lost in a snowstorm in the middle of the forest and was force spend some nights with her in a cabin.

Fell!Purple:

He is a gay man and an activist who is against the war and the oppression. He helped Azriel to accept his sexuality and motivated him to leave his job. In term of design he a hippy with regular colored skin.

Miscellaneous info:Both are not "immortal" and can die permanently. They are taller then their prime self. I believe this is the first au I started making.

Spyswap:

At first I thought to swap the spies with themselves but I denied because I thought that this concept was lame. Intil I decide to swap them with the gray spy and then the au was born.

Spy 1(Swap!Black):He is a member of the gray embassy. He still childish and loves toys like his prime self but he also clingy and often he give physical to his husband Spy 2 (more on him later),is like lay back and loves to cracks jokes, put on show. Also he is an optimist and have tendencies to make stupid mistakes.

Spy 2(Swap!White):He also a member of the gray embassy. He still our charismatic book reader with a sense of good manners but he hard working, foodie, doesn't get sarcasm or Spy 1 jokes very much and he a doubtful passimistic.

Both:Are married, does fight sometimes however they're NOT cruel or sadistic as the prime selfs. They even be will shocked when they learn what their prime self's relationship is like. Also they are gay and Christians (I say that since in my multiverse the prime spies are bisexual). Also they are better as agents then the prime spies simular way gray spy is (accept they can use or be outsmarted). Also they don't really care about Gray vs Black and White conflict and are not really nationalistic toward their faction. They just "join in" because of the job.

Here's concept art/references. (Not that swap!Black is the one who weare simular clothing to Gray spy with the same cape thing while swap!White wears more startard suit.)

the last image is their finalised design. (however imagine Spy 1 to be a bit buff with smaller torso.)

Grayberry/Berry/John Dagger:

He is sort of a parody of Underswap Sans. Friendly, flamboyant, says "Wowzers!" when he is estatic his eyes turn into stars etc. However he isn't that much of a pacifist compare to Sans and understand that he can't redeem everyone although he still believes second chances to an extend. On the brighter side he love his fathers and they are basically his idols. He wants to become a secret agent like them and likes to roll play as one. On the negative side he's greedy, a little hypocritical and a bit dumb and gullible (I imagine him going on character arc or something) Also he's around 12.

(oh boy he looks like Satan)

The Lady in Black and White(Swap!Gray):

She is a bitch. She envious of them for being greater agents then and also being in a relationship with someone since she's single . She is cruel, sadistic, hate being left out and has a big ego but she does have standards like sometime she can cancelled one of her plans when the family celebrating a holliday or being in despair. Still on the brighter she can be a little sarcastic and loves her faction. Her win rate against them is 25%.

Here is the first sketches of her.

Here is her final design.

Miscellaneous changes: Spy 1 and 2 are the ones who created a machine that could travel between universe and often explore the multiverse. Their home works like multiverse hq even if is just a fancy house.

God vs God:

A heavy important universe feeled with godlike beings who keep the balance in the multiverse. It also themed after classic mythology.

Goth(G!Black):

He is the god of death and manage a play with the roots of the tree of life that deside who dieds. He HATES his job and he is interested in the mortal world, behaving and acting like a human. Dispite being a god he can only teleport across the multiverse, have above average strength (around wall level or so), summon a scythe and kill any mortal organic being with simple touch. So he constantly wears hoodie, gloves and sweetpants, to protect others from dangerous touch. In there of personality he is lay back, emo-ish with great interested in scary things, he typically refused to use his powers just to fit in. In terms negatives he is careless, selfish puling but I imagine him going through a character arc to changes himself. (He is asexual biromanthic and I ship him with Azriel)

Concept art:

(Yes he only has thighs and floots in air up to 10 meters. Also I am thinking of making him a black dude for diversity)

Lux(G!White):

He is the God of Life. He doesn't like how Goth loves the mortal world. He does simular job to him only that he is focusing around who live and who is getting resurrected/birth. I don't much ideas for him.

Minor aus:

Little spy:

Y'know that stop motion Spy vs Spy shorts?

This basically that. In this everything looks like a stop motion set and the spies are like really small (around 3 decimeters) and there are just 5 years old. However they live like adult. Dispite being childish they are not very different from the primes ones. However in this au there are not actually spies just role play as one in their antics. In actually they make gadgets for the government and the top secrets info it's just patents for the company. Also Gray Spy who is like 7 year old in au. She sort of a "frenemy" of them. Original she was interested in their rivelry making score boards for who is going to win the most. However eventually after realise that almost aways 50/50 she lost interest and she thought it was boring and repetitive. So she decided to start trying to convince them to stop fight peaceful . I didn't work but she keep going. Beside that she is a tomboy, one sided and likes to hand out with them sometimes despite if she doesn't why they are trying to kill eacher.

SpyNegative:

An simple au for a chart that was working on. Basically Negative!White is a general who wear blacks clothes with blue accents wants to kill Negative!Black. Negative!Black is poor person who just wants to leave the country.

SpyHorror:

Gray Spy found Black Spy at abandoned town. He wear bandages at his head and his hand is chop off. Also White Spy is a monster.

Cringe:

A disbelief parody. Purple Spy commits genoside and kills Black Spy. That puts White Spy in disbelief (due to special chemical that makes him act like papyrus he inserted into his drink) and fights him by summoning bones and and blasters learned thanks to a YouTube tutorial. Only phases 1-5 are canon. Lady in Gray almost comes back but jokingly didn't.

Changes to the prime universe:

Black Spy's real name is Jackle Xander Dagger and White Spy's Heckle Yuri Joke. (Yes, this is a reference to the video game, their fanon names based on the Joke and Dagger dept. and the name of the comic in Sweden I believe? Also this implies to Spy 1 and 2) They are both transgender and bisexual. Also some of things stated in my ask blog are canon here like both faction being one at some point, White Spy loving white chocolate and Black Spy loving doners. And... yeah I ship them. No I would be focus around their romance much for the most part.

Miscellaneous info:

Purple Spy is real in this multiverse and likes to cause mischief and chaos from time to time. (Also I ship him with green spy)

Also fresh is real. I love and want them in my multiverse.

Ps:Yes, you can draw my acs. Just give credit in the description of your drawing.(And no I WILL NOT allow anyone to drawing porn or offencive art of them) Also you can redesign them, make headcannons, change their personality ect. So long you agnowledge that is this not their cannon selfs.

[aezyrraeshh]

; wip day!

i was tagged by @aartyom; thank you so much rena!! <33 tagging @arklay @nuclearstorms @devilbrakers @girlbosselrond @faarkas @indorilnerevarine @florbelles @camelliagwerm @steelport @reaperkiller @calenhads @aelyosos @swordcoasts @galacticvales @celticwoman @shadowglens & whoever else wants to do this!

the name of this wip, which is already 2k words 🤡 btw someone stop me, is "luna being a spooky asshole to strangers" and i honestly can't describe it any better.

Lys sees a surprisingly familiar figure, though describing her this way doesn’t feel natural under the circumstances. Questions swirl in his head as he eyes her, approaching carefully: why is she all alone? And what exactly is she doing here so late at night? Their investigation was put on hold, and she told him she was leaving first thing in the morning. Something doesn’t add up, uneasiness bleeds its way into his already troubled mind, making the man lower one of his hands on a hilt of the sword. 

She is still wearing the long, dark robes Lys has already seen her in, and the commander notices the glim of a golden brooch on her chest, but where there once was a delicate flower, now there is a snake nestled between the folds of her clothes. 

The only way he can describe her in this very moment is wrong; her entire appearance is refined and strangely regal: long, silvery locks of hair cascading down her back and framing the pale face, delicate purple fabric wrapped over her shoulder and, of course, the golden mask. It’s still securely in place, covering the upper half of her face and exposing her mouth, which is set into a thin, disapproving line. Gone is the kind smile of hers that shone brightly when Lys needed it the most, although it was his choice alone to ignore the sharpness of her teeth at the time. 

Foolish, how foolish he was.

Her elegant, almost serene stance makes her appear strangely harmless amidst the odious red covering the floors. When she steps forward, it’s with the quietness and confidence of a trained spy, and a chill runs down Lys’ spine as his eyes dart up to where hers should be. Despite not being able to see them through the mask, he finds himself trapped under her gaze. 

Perhaps, it’s a primal instinct within him kicking in– something inside him screams that he is in danger, and the best option is to turn on his heels and run far, far away from here. His commander was right, Lys should’ve ignored the call of his weeping heart to bring justice to his dead brethren. Now, the terrifying thought strikes him, he will be yet another victim of a massacre for he cannot even move his legs. Is this how the first touch of death feels like?

“You are here.” She breaks the silence, finally, even if it doesn’t make it any easier to breathe through the tension surrounding them. She seems to notice his inner turmoil for her lips stretch slightly in what seems like amusement. “Oh my, you are shivering. Scared, are you?”  

She says it as if it was a joke, but she doesn’t laugh– instead, she pauses like she expects him to find it amusing as well. When he doesn’t, she huffs and takes another step in his direction.

“You saw the blood on the walls, yes?” The venomous hiss catches Lys off guard, the smooth, silken tone of her voice is raised slightly, letting the irritation slip through the facade of calm. “So, please, do be so kind as to enlighten me, what about the pools of blood, mysterious disappearances of your men and the sign that clearly says to not enter made you think «looks decent enough to go inside all alone, surely I won’t get myself killed»? I highly doubt you wanted to play a hero considering how.. Shaken you are, oh mighty commander.”

[chilopodacrudus]

Piers Backstory Part 1 Electric Boogaloo

I noticed I was putting much more detail into the 2nd and 3rd parts so I redid the first; oops.

CW for: Piers is a serial killer and not a good person. He has the good intention of helping a child who is suffering from abuse but not exactly a good method of helping; this gets him in trouble. CW for a child implied to be having a bad time at home.

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/chilopodacrudus/738185995997118464/piers-meets-god?source=share

Part 3: https://www.tumblr.com/chilopodacrudus/738216351750111232/piers-hell-arc-2-grief?source=share

Piers: A six foot tall middle aged man with a thicker athletic build to him. His hair is mid length; his bangs a dark brown the rest of his wavy hair a much lighter blonde. He adjusts his glasses staring off into the distance; his eyes darting across the few faces he see’s walking around the strip mall he frequently people watches in.

Marcy: A young girl; roughly 8, long frizzy hair and tomboyish clothes stands cautiously behind a pillar. She’s looking out for someone; there’s a steady panic in her eye.

Piers: He notices Marcy immediately; that’s Lacey’s niece. Lacey was a client of his for his dog walking business he runs on the side. He’d like to think they were decently close; he does quite a bit of extra work for her as she’s fallen on hard times. He’s concerned for Marcy; her father was an absolute prick. He knew something was going on at home as he bore witness to it during his spying in the past. What was the idiot up to now. He approaches Marcy with a smile on his face. "Marcy? Hey kiddo…your parents around?" Piers ticks his eyes towards where she's looking; Jason can be heard yelling and sounds very drunk.

Jason: A rough looking man; unshaven but dressed in his Sunday's best. Ruffled dark brown hair and a bitter air to him. "MARCY? The hell is that fucking kid; MARCY." He stumbles into view with a sneer on his face and starts to yell for her "MAR-…" his face changes and flushes white when he see's someone he knows a forced smirk on his face as he looks at Piers. "Marcy it's time to go" He nods his head to Piers; clearly putting on a front to not out himself in front of someone he's familiar with.

Marcy: She’s overwhelmed; she doesn’t know where to turn, if it were up to her she would dart to Piers and hide. Instead she instinctively pulls down her sleeve hiding a fresh bruise.

Piers: He bares witness to all of this with a dead look of intent in his eye. He had already made up his mind long before now. He turns to Marcy with his expression becoming much more intense; likely more so than he’d want it to in the moment. "Marcy…everything…will be okay..I promise"

Jason: "Marcy I don't have all day here.."

Marcy: She smiles at Piers a bit put off by his expression but she nods "Thanks…" She speaks softly and begrudgingly goes to Jason and walks with him out of the area.

Piers: He nips his bottom lip and mutters to himself. "Everything will be just fine…"

A few days later; Piers is at his home speaking with Lacey who is picking up her dog Berns, a large collie. Piers' dog Doc; a rottweiler is laying on the couch gnawing on a toy.

Piers: He has a warm look on his face; he was very fond of Lacey, much more fond than she knows."He's a good boy as always Lacey; a pleasure"

Lacey: She’s a lanky nervous woman; tall with a punk rock vibe. Her hair done in a long half hawk of dirty blonde. She wore large steel toed boots. She speaks frantically always tripping over her words. "Thanks man you know I owe you; I'm so sorry I couldn't send the full payment this month I…and I'm sorry for coming so late"

Piers: Holds up a hand stopping her "Like I said; he's a pleasure. This is just a side gig you don't have to worry about anything.”

Lacey: "You're an angel; thank you so much. If you need anything…just let me know"

Piers: "Of course you two take care"

When Piers closes the door his smile fades a blank expression again as he swings by his bathroom to pick up a large duffel bag. He stands in front of the mirror of his bathroom staring into it deeply. Something in his mind clearly switched.

It's past midnight; Piers makes his way to Jason's house. He's stopped by here to do errands for Lacey before. Wearing tight rubber gloves; rubber covers over his boots and a outer layer of easily tossable plastic coveralls.

No lights are on in the house; he parks his car several blocks away and takes a path through the woods towards the backdoor carrying his duffel bag.

He picks the backdoor lock and makes his way carefully inside; shutting the door behind him. He passes by Marcy's room; briefly pausing to narrow his eyes. He was terrified that she would see what he was about to do but it had to be done.

Entering the room he sets down his bag and pulls out a tire iron; gripping it firmly in his gloved hand a soft clink is heard and Jason stirs from his sleep.

Piers: Before Jason can fully comprehend what's happening "Hey" he bashes him over the head once, waits; then goes for a second swing, bitterly watching him hack up blood and wince while staying eerily calm. There was nothing in his eyes. "Bastard" He speaks deadpan before pulling out his makeshift blade. A crooked mess of a thing made with one solid chunk of metal. He slits Jason's throat with no hesitation; not even bothering to enjoy the scene before him as he quickly takes out a large black piece of vinyl to put over his body. He didn't want Marcy to see him like this. He notices Jason's pocket watch out of the corner of his eye and nabs it without really thinking putting it in his bag and making his way out.

Several days later; Piers is on his couch looking at the pocket watch. He admires it; it’s a one of a kind piece gifted to him by Lacey, the etching of her name inside solidifies that. Jason was Lacey’s brother; he knew this but he knew she would have done the same thing if only she knew.

A knock at the door.

Lacey: She stands looking more disheveled than normal. Her eyes sunken from lack of sleep and tears; she’s here to drop Berns off like usual.

Piers: Without thinking he instinctively lays down the pocket watch on the night stand next to the front door. Putting on his ‘empathetic face’ he answers the door. "Hey; how are you holding up"

Lacey: "Ha I…you know…not well" Her eyes are darting left and right she goes to say something but is interrupted by Berns’ excitement.

Berns: The large fluffy collie wags his tail happily seeing his dog buddy Doc; pulling on the leash and rushing into the house knocking the pocket watch on the ground clearly in Lacey's view.

Piers: He panics ‘shit shit shit’ snatching the pocket watch with a spin on his heel but not before Lacey catches a glimpse of it and Piers knows what she saw. "BERNS come on man…manners" He attempts to laugh it off praying it works.

Lacey: Her eyes are wide like a doe in headlights her heart feels like it stops mid beat she stumbles over her words but tries to regain her composure. She knows the watch was stolen from the crime scene she thinks she’s dreaming briefly. "Hahaha he's…yea…I…I'll be b..back to pick him up…usual time"

Piers: His smile saddens; his heart flutters he can’t believe he was so careless."Yea sure you be safe out there" His words seem much more sinister but he didn’t intend them to be.

Lacey: She slams the door shut and runs to the side of Piers’ house collapsing down with both hands clutched over her mouth tears streaming down her eyes. She has no idea what she’s going to do she can’t believe what she saw.

Piers: His expression changes from a solemn one to blank. His mind is reeling as he slides down to the floor; his back to the door. He squeezes the pocket watch between his fingers tapping his thumb against it. Snapping his head back and rolling his eyes he’s fighting every instinct he has but he knows what he has to do. "I’m so sorry Lace…you gotta go"

The next day Piers is staring at himself in the mirror going over unheard internal monologue. His mind is made up and so he performs just as he always does. He picks up his bag of goodies and heads out.

He heads to Lacey's house; this will be much easier as Lacey gave him a key to her house to take care of chores for her while she's away but he isn't sure if she's changed the locks yet after seeing what she saw at his house.

She hasn't.

He slips into her house with his usual garb when doing such things. Lacey is sitting in the living room clearly paranoid with little sleep. Piers eyes go wide when he notices that she see's him. He drops his duffel bag to the floor as Lacey slowly gets out of the chair and holds her hands up.

Lacey: "Why'd you do it" She’s been rehearsing this; she blurts it out so quickly she nearly spits.

Piers: He swallows making his way towards her slipping a pocket knife into his back pocket from his bag. He didn’t want her to suffer; at least he didn’t think he did. "I was doing Marcy a favor" His voice is dry and matter of fact devoid of the warmth of their normal conversations.

Lacey: "What do..what are you talking about?" She has no time for games or sorry excuses she’s not here to hear his side of the story she’s already made up her mind of how to think about the whole thing.

Piers: "I've been watching them for awhile; you wouldn't believe the things I've seen him do Lace…"

Lacey: She looks to the side; clenching her eyes closed briefly she grabs at the side of her head and wraps her arms around her body. Jason was her brother; he wasn’t perfect but clearly he wasn’t evil. She loses all of the composure she had. “I don't believe you; I DON'T BELIEVE YOU"

Piers: His heart sinks; he isn’t used to letting such emotions grip him during times like this but he goes forward none the less; gripping her firmly against the wall."I guess it doesn't really matter now does it…Marcys safe so I did what I could now…" He leans in and offers a gentle whisper as he slips the pocket knife into his hand and places it against her neck. "I'll give you one last favor…close your eyes Lace…and I'll make it quick"

Berns: Berns roused from his sleep from the commotion and stumbles into the room; confused but reads what's going on pretty quickly. Lacey's heart was pounding; frozen in place but when she catches eye of him she screams for him for help. In the blink of an eye; Berns lunges at Piers and gnashes his teeth deep into his right calf causing him to slash Lacey across the face as he jerks back and yells.

Piers: "FUCKING…BERNS DOWN" He didn't want to hurt Berns; he had nothing to do with this, he grips Berns' nose and squeezes his mouth open snatching him and throwing him into the bathroom and closing the door. Limping with his eyes wide he curses and slams his hand into the door. This wasn’t good he can’t stop making mistakes.

Lacey: She scrambles into the bedroom; her dad gave her his old hunting rifle for protection, that's all that was on her mind now. She shakily takes it out of the case and loads the ammo; the instructions her Dad gave her on how to use it repeating over and over and over in her mind.

Piers: Stumbles towards her limping badly from a torn leg he slams open her door. His voice laced with venom as he shouts. "LACEY"

Lacey: She panics and fires without aiming hitting Piers with a gut shot. She drops to her knees and scrambles backwards in complete silence; staring at the splatter of blood and viscera in front of her.

The neighbors had called the police hearing Berns having a fit minutes before; the sound of police sirens flood Piers' ears.

Piers: He gives Lacey a crooked grin; blood dripping from his nose and mouth. He was eviscerated; his organs poking through as he stumbled and crawled to his feet like a wounded animal. "You're a lucky one Lace…" he growled at her as he takes what's left of his energy and dashes into the woods. The snow is deep but his adrenaline pushes him further and further until his body gives out. A long blood trail behind him. He slumps up against a tree gripping his stomach frantically trying to pull himself together his face twisted in pain. "Fuck…fucking idiot fuck…really? This? This is…" He gives a pained laugh that quickly turns into a frantic yelp and falls silent. "The hell am I doing…"

A long; agonizing death, a gut shot isn't quick but he'd be dead before the cops ever caught up with him. Which was preferable to him at the time.

[asitrita]

Ok. I've just finished episode 6 of the Avatar the Last Airbender Netflix live action. I do have some issues with episode 3 and 4, but I get it. If I do not compare it with the animated series, I actually do not think episode 3 is that bad, not as good as the previous two, that for sure, but not too bad either. I would give it a 6/10. And to be honest, even if compared to the original series, I do not think it is that bad. I do get what people are complaining about, but guys, it is impossible to copy paste the animated series, you need to cut things out and mix things up a little, link them and put them together, weave it together, if you so want to include absolutely everything (I'm still a bit disappointed the one story I liked, that of Haru, was not included at all). My only problem here is that we miss the air temples destruction and desecration that was kinda important for Aang to come to terms with, and that we do not get to see how the fire nation finds about Sokka's invention, though I guess it is inferred that the mechanist told them as he was a spy for the fire nation while he was working with Sokka. Episode four was actually the worst so far for me. Don't get me wrong, I don't think Bumi's actor was bad at all, in fact, I think the problem was not the acting but the general look of the episode. He looks like he was wearing a costume, the scenes inside the palace look just weird, I guess they have shining stones in the walls, but it looked like they had lamps and electricity. When making and adaptation of an animated series things like this can happen. Because the series was all too realistic, as in real world tangible aesthetics up to this point, the recreation of Bumi's plain clean walls and overall the Palace aesthetics looks too cartoonish and out of place to me. It took me completely out of the fantasy, as did Bumi's vest or whatever he was wearing. On the brightest side, I friggin cried with Iroh's and Zuko's scenes, those were gold. I also think it was a decent way to include the tunnels episode into the live action, so I don't have any problem with that. Fifth and sixth episode, I liked them, and I didn't mind the changes at all. It was fine, actually, but I found Roku to be too... Bright? Like dude was chill, but not that chill, lol. (Also, no hate to the actress, but Mai actress was the worst cast so far, she looks nothing like the character, and I'm sorry, but I do like the actors looking like the characters, and in this case it is not just that she is physically almost the opposite of her character, but that her character had a very particular vibe to it, Wednesday Adams-like, that the actress lacks completely, so this is not even about looks, but about feelings, so to speak).

In general I'm enjoying much more the new material than the old material they try so hard to replicate. I loved episode 2, by the way. Oh, and Archer (or whatever his name is in English), the boy with the hat and the bow, looks like he was taken out of the animated series, he looks exactly like his character XD Loved him (and Jet 👀)

So far, Sokka, Zuko and Iroh remain my favourite characters, though Aang and Katara are growing on me. I must say, I read many people complaining about Katara's and Aang's performance, but since I'm watching the show in Spanish, the voice actors have probably improved quite a bit the delivery of their lines, so I like them quite fine. I still think Zuko is the best casted actor so far, he does not look exactly as I imagined Zuko, nor has his sharp features, but he feels like Zuko, he really does, I really like him and I think he's doing perfect as our prince. His performance is really really good, my favourite so far, and no, it is not because I also loved Zuko in the animated series, it is because I do believe he is bringing Zuko to life with his performance. Oh, I'm actually enjoying Zhao's performance quite a lot too, a bit different from the original, but he's also doing great, I hate that guy XD

Oh, the fantasy animals? They look great. And Ko scared the shit out of me XD

[proxylynn]

MY WISH WAS ALWAYS YOURS (part #3)

[I remember now why I don't write fight scenes all that much. They drain me like crazy. I at least hope it was halfway decent. We're getting into deeper character development now. And a foreshadowing warning, the next chapter will be both very sweet with fluff but also drowning in fucked up angst. Thank you all for making it this far. I love you all. ^_^]

It had been a week or so since "Big" Jack Horner's rendezvous in the pub and he had heard nothing.

No news of the demise of Kitty Softpaws.

No news of the Serpent Sisters' progress in retrieving the map to the Wishing Star.

No news in general of any of the scouts collecting items.

It is eating at him. He's a patient man. But not hearing anything at all for so long had put him on edge.

He's been lingering in his trophy room more and more these days. It's his sanctuary after all. His place at work where he can go to get away from it all and let his mind wander to other things that aren't pie-related.

For now, stirring the flames in the fireplace and watching them dance is a good means of zoning out. It gives his mind that sweet reprieve from the hustle and bustle of it all.

*knock-knock*

But his work is never done.

“Enter.”

Lynsie enters and shuts the door, a clipboard in her hand. It gets his attention.

“I take it something happened?”

She nods and he sighs as he rubs his face.

“Very well. Let's hear it.”

She holds the board up.

“While making my rounds there was a minor accident on the main production floor. A bit of filling dribbled out from the vat-scooping bucket and went unnoticed. This caused a slip and fall.”

“That's not too bad.”

“They fell into one of the mixing vats. Contaminating the entire thing.”

“Damn it!”

“I've already begun the work to empty it and have it decontaminated. It should be ready for use again by later tonight.”

He brings his hand up and nibbles his thumb in annoyed thought.

“That's going to cost us so much...”

He huffs.

“What's the point of the railings if those idiots can still go over them?!”

“I know, Master Jack. But nothing in this world is foolproof.”

She hangs the board on her belt and moves to the opposite side of the room.

Ah, the trophy room. The most magical place for miles due to how much stuff he had collected inside it. Displays and shelves lined with bottles and bobbles galore, but one cage always calls her attention.

“Hello, Ember. My, your plumage is looking well.”

The Phoenix flutters its wings a bit at the praise, its red and orange feathers resembling the very fire in the room.

“I told you not to name it.”

Jack chimes in as she fills her hand with feed from a bag nearby.

“There's no harm in naming the pretty bird. Isn't that right, Ember?”

The Phoenix chirps a small burst of flame before eating from her palm.

“See? All is fine.”

He rolls his eyes.

“I hope you have more to talk about other than that. Because if this was just an excuse to get in here...”

“You wound me, Master Jack.”

She glances at him.

“I dare not waste your time nor my own, not when it can be used to your aid.”

“Then out with it.”

She tilts her hand to leave the remaining feed in the cage and moves to stand by the fireplace.

“Would you like the good news or the bad news first?”

“You mean to say there's something else besides that entire vat being wasted?!”

“Yes, but it's not as bad as that.”

He groans.

“What is it?”

“We have received word from some of our scouts. Three of the five groups that were sent out to gather items have met in failure.”

“Is one of those...?”

“No. The sisters were not among the fallen. Last I heard they were spotted boarding a ship to head off towards the dark isles.”

That got his attention.

“You heard? I thought you said having someone follow them was a bad move?”

“Master Jack, there's more than one way to spy on targets. You know that as well as I.”

“...Then what was successful?”

She looks at her clipboard.

“We've ascertained that Group Two has acquired the staff of a sorcerer from a far-off desert kingdom. Looks like a snake coiling up a rod with a crystal orb mounted at the top. At least, that's how they've described it. And Group Four confirms the acquisition of some sort of enchanted hammer. ...Huh?”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. The hammer just seemed to summon a bolt of lightning and almost killed one of the group.”

“Almost?”

“People can survive being struck by lightning, Master Jack. Mind you they usually do so with scarring and some nerve damage, but they can be fine after.”

“Eh, I suppose. Now, what is the 'good news' you mentioned?”

She smiles and innocently claps her hands.

“Why, Master Jack, do you forget what day it is?”

The blank indifferent stare he gave her told her to just get on with it.

“Very well. It's that lovely time once more when the Baker's Dozen are pitted against each other to compete for whose dish will be this season's limited-time special!”

Her giggle did little to make him enjoy such news. This doesn't go past her.

“What is the matter? You usually enjoy watching them battle it out to present you the best dish to win.”

He just resumes chewing on his thumb. She pouts at this.

“You're worried about the map, correct?”

His eyes look from the fire to her and then back again to the fire.

“Master Jack...”

“You can feel it, can't you?”

He mutters into his nibbling.

“This time it's not just some hunch or half-baked lead someone heard from a friend who heard it from a guy who knows a guy who knew this other guy who knew another man's cousin...”

“Jack!”

The sharper tone and lack of formality shut him up as she stared him in the eye.

“I know. I know how this has to be making you feel.”

His right eye twitches.

“Don't patronize me! You can't possibly understand how I feel.”

He gets in her face and points to a section of the wall purely dedicated to the study of the Wishing Star.

“I have been searching for years! Everything I've done, all of this, has been leading up to getting that map. To get my wish fulfilled. You have no goals or ambitions. So do tell me just how it is that you understand how badly I want that map!”

“Don't assume to think you understand me when it comes to you!”

She pokes his chest.

“When I got here, I swore to you an oath that I meant every word of. Nothing in this world matters to me besides you. Your goals are my goals. Your happiness is my own. So if the wait of getting that map is festering in you like an itch you can't scratch, then guess what? It's bugging the crap out of me too because I can't do a damn thing to make it better! And being unable to do anything for you, especially with something as important as this, when you're in this much need, it drives me freaking nuts!”

She raises her voice to him, snapping like he would. As if they were equals. This isn't received well. He grabs her waist with one hand and firmly pins her against the wall so she's at eye level with him.

“You forget your place, "Little" Lynn. Who do you think you are to try to scold me? My mother?”

She huffs and he leers at her. Then he notices something. Something he couldn't see before due to their size difference. His other hand holds her face, keeping her still as he leans in to get a closer look.

“What? What are you looking at?”

“You haven't been sleeping.”

She cocks her eyes at him.

“Don't try to deny it. You have eye rings so deep they'd make a raccoon jealous.”

“I've had those since I was a kid. You know that.”

“But they haven't been this dark in quite some time.”

She rumbles and he glares.

“You're having that dream again, aren't you?”

That made her go quiet and confirmed his suspicion.

“How long?”

She adverts her gaze. This annoys him and he tightens his grip, causing her to wince.

“Answer me!”

“A month!”

He loosens his hold.

“I don't know why, but it's been happening randomly for what feels like a month, maybe longer. It gets as far as when I'm being pulled into that damn house before I can force myself awake. After that, I can't bring myself to go back to sleep.”

Her voice was laced with embarrassed shame, but that didn't stop his questioning.

“Why didn't you say anything?”

“I didn't want to bother you. And it's not like I need much sleep to function. I can run on as low as two hours if needed.”

“Do you hear how stupid you sound right now? You might function on little sleep, but you're not functioning properly. A machine not running at its full power isn't worth being used. It's replaceable. Is that what you want? Me to replace you?”

Her eyes widen.

“You wouldn't. No one here can handle even half of my usual routine and not crumble when with you.”

He sneers.

“This. This is what I mean. You're giving me lip when you know I'm right. You're disappointing me.”

She flinches. The panic that fills her eyes is a familiar sight for him. The same with her trembling grip as she clings to his arm in desperation. Something that was beaten into her long ago in her childhood.

“J-Jack...Jack, please...I'm sorry. I'll be good, I promise. I-I'm a good girl. I swear! Don't be mad! I c-can do better! I'll behave! I'll do anything! Please!”

He knows she means it. The pleading in her voice and the tears threatening to pour are too real.

“Look at you. Everything you are falls apart with ease if I even hint that I'm upset with you. That woman really did a number on you.”

She merely sniffles and looks away shamefully.

“Why is that day even a nightmare for you? You said it yourself. They deserved it.”

“Because I didn't mean to do it.”

“So? It was in self-defense. She tried to kill you before and she tried again. You had no choice.”

“She was still my mom!”

“She was a monster and you know it!”

“I know!”

She crumbles, the tears falling free as she tries to at least keep her voice from cracking.

“She was a vile excuse for a human being and I'm glad she's dead! But...”

“But?”

“She was still my mom.”

Slowly he lowers her down.

“Just because she birthed you doesn't make her a mother. Mothers don't abuse their kids for stupid reasons.”

She wipes her eyes and sniffles a bit more.

“I...I know.”

He huffs a sigh and looks around before going over to one of the shelves holding potions. Scanning over each bottle, he selects a black one that glows purple and puts it down on his desk.

“I want you to use it. It should aid in suppressing dreams.”

The bottle's label reads "Hypnos's Kiss Goodnight Potion. Maximum strength. For when counting sheep isn't enough. To drink this brew, you will know slumber that is the best, no dreams, no nightmares, only pure rest. Not a permanent fix for chronic ailments. WARNING: side effects may include but are not limited to sleep paralysis, itching, night terrors, hallucinations, and uncontrollable weeping. Not intended for heart patients, those with nervous disorders, or weak constitutions. Use as directed or else."

She eyes the bottle and then him.

“Are you sure?”

“Ever since Fairy Godmother got her bubble burst, you wouldn't believe how easy it is for random potion surplus to conveniently fall off that back of a cart. I have more of this stuff and others.”

She's hesitant. Fairy Godmother was known for making top-quality magic products, sure. Still, she was a ruthlessly shrewd businesswoman who'd scam people into her granting wishes for repercussive payments, usually even stooping to blackmail if it meant getting her way. Nothing of hers is to be taken without caution.

“Who even is running that factory now? I thought her son, Prince Charming, became a crappy stage actor to support himself before meeting with his own curtain call.”

“Oh, sonny-boy is still kicking around. He and his balded-headed girlfriend are utterly ostracized after that staged rebellion. Do you think for even a second that hag would leave the pretty boy in charge of her empire?”

“True. Though his attack on Far Far Away was rather impressive, yet poorly handled. If not her brood, then who is...?”

“Her former chauffeur, Kyle. Man got into her estate and knew how to manage things from being around her so much. Smart move honestly.”

“Oh. Good for him.”

The vaguest of blips in their minds ponder if the other thinks they're in a similar situation. Villainous successful entrepreneur and the ever at their call worker. The irony would be amusing. Such a thing would be an idea the rest of the staff would entertain as a possibility, but not them. Lynsie is too deep in her loyalty to care for aspirations that don't benefit Jack. And Jack is so absorbed in his goals that thirsting after an employee is the farthest thought he could have. But like the crackling of the fire in the room, this passed away with the quickest of instances and they were as they were once more.

“Is it her classic recipe or a new version?”

He scoffs.

“Like I would get the watered-down stuff. That's the real deal. So...Best to peel the label off and take it as directed. Otherwise, you'll end up as narcoleptic as Sleeping Beauty. That's if you wake up again.”

“Daww, Master Jack. Was that a bit of concern for my well-being just now?”

She teases and is met with a cold stare from him.

“Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you?”

“Because I do my job and do it well. Case in point...How do you feel now?”

He tilts his head perplexed.

“What?”

“Well, you're not stressing out anymore, correct?”

It hits him like a house falling from the sky. She used her own trouble and breakdown as a distraction to get his mind off of his worrying thoughts.

“Clever girl.”

She gives a mock curtsy.

“Always at your service, Master Jack...”

She gets her clipboard out again with a smirk.

“Now, shall we get down to today's proceedings?”

She has a point. The sooner this was done with the faster he could get things moving along for this season's special. That and it wouldn't hurt to see his bakers nearly kill themselves to serve up their best.

“Fine. ...But I am serious. You're using this potion.”

She gives a nod and spins on her heel, him following close behind.

“Don't just nod and walk off. I mean it! You're going to use it. You need sleep.”

He locks the trophy room and she puts her hands behind her head.

“I'd say you sound like my dad but I never knew the guy.”

He smacks the back of her head.

“Quit being an ass and get your head on straight.”

“Fine. Just thought I had one last moment to be nonchalant.”

“Save your lax attitude when it's called for. We're working.”

She sighs.

“You're right. My apologies. ...The sooner I get decent sleep again the better.”

“I still don't get how that day was nightmare for you. You don't have a problem killing and you even said she deserved it. So what made that so different?”

He looks at her funny as they walk to the private sector of the bakery area.

“...What exactly happened when you went into that house?”

Her face grows cold and distant, seeing things in her eyes that can't be forgotten.

“I don't want to talk about it. Not here. Not now.”

Sensing this might cause another backlash in her state of mind he lets it end there. Still, it boggles him. Knowing what he does, she's overcome things that made lesser fools break. So why is this haunting her? He was there when it happened. Standing outside and expecting a quick smooth play in his favor. Then the yelling started, furniture crashed, and a window was stained red. Next thing he knows she's a blubbering wreck, that dreadful old woman was dead, and they burned the house down to erase everything. Such a home belonged in hell ages ago. Nothing of real value was lost anyway. Except...

“Welcome, Mr. Horner!”

His thoughts are broken back into the present moment. Lynsie's holding the door open for him and thirteen others are looking at him like a bunch of excited stray shelter dogs ready to be taken home. Yet they are home. As home as one can call it for this ragtag group of misfits. But let not their appearance fool you. These thirteen are Jack's elite. His most prized bakers and his most ruthless enforcers were made up of seven men and six women who had been recruited from all across the continents.

The men: Pete Cobbler. Ben Yay. Butter Scott. Tommy Lee Scones. Cinnaman. Sir Thomas Brady Fingers. And Jerry Cobbler.

The women: Nutmegan. Terror-misu. Stevia. Crustina. Betsy Crocker. And Rhu-Barb.

The Baker's Dozen might be bakers like those on the main line and dress in similar white uniforms but they are not on the same level. These people only make the “premium” products. The high grade overpriced super fancy I can lord this over all others as a symbol of superior decadence kind of goods. Today is a day they look forward to each time it comes around mid-season. A chance to show off their skills and show up the other members for bragging rights that last three months till it happens all over again. The limited edition bake-off. It's a massive boost to sales, draws in new potential employees, and funds other shadier expenses. It's something they've come to know Jack enjoys. Yet he seems distracted.

“Is everything alright, sir?”

Jack merely enters, casting his gaze around the room before taking a seat at his surprisingly basic table.

“Is something up with the boss?”

“Yeah. Just the usual. Master Jack has had a lot on his mind lately.”

Lynsie shuts the door. Her professionalism is lesser with the group than normal staff, they share similar backgrounds of illegality and she knows they are competent individuals, so she is a bit more casual.

“I'm hoping you lot can help get him back into the spirit of things with this exhibition. The whole Map to the you-know-what has been making him more...How to put it?”

“Come on, let's get this over with!”

His voice growls out.

“Impatient. That's the word I was looking for. Oh well...”

She holds her board.

“I trust you all have handled your prep time wisely and are ready to proceed with the presentation. Or do some need a bit more time as the others go first?”

Betsy makes a slight sound.

“I might need to go last. It's still in the freezer solidifying.”

Lynsie smirks, Betsy's been attempting for some time now to pass along cheesecake in these events. It rarely gets a pass though. Not because it's bad. Jack just refuses to claim it as pie. Swears the stuff is a custard. He's not entirely wrong but it still counts. There's custard pie! Stubborn man stuck in his ways.

“Very well. I'm sure this time you'll win him over. You make damn good desserts.”

Betsy beams at the compliment. Lynsie comes to stand by the table with Jack and clears her throat.

“Will the first please present your submission to Master Jack for testing?”

“Allow me!”

Cinnaman steps up...and is almost taken out by Tommy's surprise right hook, which is extra impressive considering Cinnaman only has the use of his right eye.

As unorthodox as this was, it was simply how they did things. They are his enforcers. So to keep their skills up, they like to throw random fight training in when they can. This was the part that was usually what Jack enjoyed most about this. Watching people potentially kick the crap out of each other and being fed is the best form of entertainment one can get around here.

Despite some fumbling and some excellent evasion on his part, Cinnaman sets his pie down in front of Jack.

“You know the drill. Type of pie and flavor?”

Lynsie readies her pencil and Cinnaman straightens up.

“Right. Yes. For my entree, I made a sweet fruit pie. And for the flavor, it's my take on the classic cinnamon apple.”

“A risky move...”

Jack speaks up as Lynsie cuts into the pie and scoops a slice up to Jack's level.

“Apple season is nearly over. That would make this more difficult to produce as long as the runtime goes. It better be worth your effort.”

Cinnaman gulps nervously as Jack takes a bite of the offered slice. His chewing and lip smacking is that of a thorough examination of the food, a display some would call disgusting.

“How would you rate this from zero to ten, Master Jack?”

He gives a hard swallow.

“Hmmm...As a stand-alone? A solid seven.”

Cinnaman sighs. It's a high score but not too high to be secured for victory. Lynsie takes a bite for a second opinion.

“The crust is good. The apple is perfectly sweet. But you may have used a pinch too much cinnamon.”

She jots things down on her clipboard. Cinnaman takes his pie and returns to his station.

“Next!”

Terror-misu comes up next, bobbing and dodging her way over.

“Type and flavor?”

“For my entree, I present a savory pie that is a local delicacy. Hornazo. A Spanish meat pie made with flour and yeast. Stuffed with pork loin, spicy chorizo sausage, and hard-boiled eggs.”

There's an exchange of looks as Lynsie cuts out a slice and feeds Jack.

“What do you think?”

He takes a napkin and wipes his mouth.

“Not bad. I give it an eight. Eight point five tops.”

Lynsie takes a bite.

“Oh! ...That's got a nice kick to it. It's almost like a funky breakfast pie. I'd give you more points but you know my opinion doesn't count in this.”

Terror-misu fist pumps the air happily.

“Thank you.”

Lynsie writes her notes down as Jack motions for the next pie to be given. The next is Tommy. Unfortunately, the burly man isn't as agile on his feet, and one wrong placement after being tripped does him in. The pie hits the floor tin up.

“No! Damn it!”

“For the record, what kind was it?

Tommy punches the floor.

“It was a sweet Chiffon pie. A pie I filled with folded whipped cream, flavored it with lime till it resembled a fruit curd, and had it on a gram cracker crust.”

Jack sighs.

“Shame. That one sounded good.”

“We hardly ever do anything with limes too. And the use of whipped cream to make a sort of meringue was interesting.”

Tommy's eyes widen.

“W-Wait! I should still have some filling left over! If I can just...”

“No.”

Jack cuts him off coldly.

“The rule is...You make a pie, you present a pie. Not parts of the pie. It doesn't matter if it's good. There are no substitutions. Period. Is that understood?”

Tommy trembles, his eyes watery and he sniffles trying to keep it together. No one ever expects the big man with his arms decked out in tattoos to be so sensitive.

“Y-Yes, Mr. Horner. I understand.”

“Still...Based on the description alone. A five.”

A fair middle score. No way he is winning, but at least he is on the board.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Tommy cleans away his mess as best he can before sulking back to his station.

“Is odd I always forget how fragile that one is?”

Jack mutters and Lynsie shakes her head.

“No. We don't interact all that much, so it's easy to forget. Shame about the slip-up though. He usually makes the most airy and soft pastries. His cannolis are heavenly.”

“Next!”

“That'll be me.”

Rhu-Barb comes out sprinting and narrowly avoids her teammates as they try to mess her up. Except for Tommy. His heart isn't invested anymore, so it appears he's not going to bother. She places her dish down and Jack cock's his brow in puzzlement. Because, at first glance, it seems she put a dish of mashed potatoes in front of him.

“What am I looking at?”

She blows some hair off her eyes as she stands proud of her creation.

“I know, it doesn't look like a pie. But it is. This is a savory-style pie in the shepherd's pie line. It's called Pâté chinois. It is made with ground beef and sautéed onions on the bottom layer, whole-kernel corn for the middle layer, and mashed potatoes on top. Then I baked it to seal the layers together.”

“Oh! I've had this before!”

Lynsie cuts into the dish and Jack looks at her funny.

“You have?”

“In my wandering days, I had stopped in the city-state of Duloc for a short time. I hear it's completely abandoned now. Its Lord was swallowed by a dragon on his wedding day. Hilarious, I know, but I digress. It was a strange place. A bit too uptight for my liking. But the food? That was a treat. Commoner dishes were altered for 'perfection' and I remember having something like this.”

She offers the slice to him and he's hesitant. The look of it isn't pleasing to him, mainly because of the beef grease dripping over the edge of the spoon. Slowly he leans in and takes an uncomfortable bite. Yet after a moment, he gets this look. The kind that comes when a lost memory comes rushing back to the forefront of the mind. Lynsie merely smiles.

“Did a flashback just unlock for you, Master Jack?”

“Yeah. I remembered I used to do business with Duloc.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It was purely an exchanging of goods deal. For some financial backing and food reserves, I'd get whatever magic stuff that pint-sized pipsqueak could get his mitts on. That fool hated magic but for all the wrong reasons. Figured is was a curse. A pox that marred the world's order. Moron didn't understand that magic is this world's natural state. So I took advantage of his ignorance any chance I could. One day contact just stopped and I wasn't bothered enough to find out why. Heh...Eaten by a dragon on his wedding day? That's funny. The bride dodged a bullet.”

He takes another bite.

“Nine...Definitely. A solid nine.”

Rhu-Barb gasps and bounces on her heels.

“Really?! Oh! Thank you!”

Lynsie takes a bite for herself.

“Mmmm...It's like a comfort meal you have before bed. The starch of the potatoes and the weight of the beef is very filling, and the sweetness of the corn pairs well with the onion. It all just highlights itself in the best of ways. Good job.”

She bows her head and takes her dish away. Lynsie writes her notes down.

“Not a bad start so far. Only nine more to go.”

Jack groans.

“Ugh...This is going to ruin dinner later.”

“We'll think of something. Something lite that won't upset your tum-tum.”

A sneer from him makes her smirk.

“What's that look for?”

“If you want to eat tonight, you'll zip your lip now if you know what's good for you.”

She nods before waving for the next baker to approach. Sir Thomas takes this as his time to shine. A rather proud but soft-spoken gentleman. The kind of man you wouldn't suspect could wield a rapier made from a large knife sharpener with one hand and then pummel you in the face with the armored leather glove on his other hand. His movements are like that of a fox, nimble and slippery. Easily dodging and countering his other teammates before reaching Jack's table.

“Ah, Sir Thomas. To what delight do you offer Master Jack this day?”

He isn't very talkative. But he speaks when needed.

“I present, my sweet submission. Tarte aux Pruneaux.”

Jack smirks.

“Going with the safe option I see.”

“What kind of plums did you use for your tart?”

Sir Thomas puts his hands behind his back.

“I used black beauties and blood plums. I wanted to mix the black beauty's incredibly juicy and mildly sweet flavor with the super sweetness and a subtle tartness of the blood plums while also tapping into its health benefits.”

Jack nods. With plums being the main flavor of pie made here and, unfortunately, the main part of his nursery rhyme, he knows those are a good choice for this tart. The deep purple hue of the black beauty and the dark red of the blood plums make it a very visually appealing tart. Certainly picked a fine pair out of the twenty-two kinds of plums.

“Let's see if you incorporated them properly.”

He snaps his fingers impatiently and Lynsie does as she's been doing, cutting him a slice before feeding him. The bakers are never able to take this sight seriously, how are they not supposed to question the professionalism of their boss and his guard when they do things like this? Yet for such an intimate and personal gesture as feeding/sharing food with someone is; the pair do it with absolutely no awareness of its implications. As if it is a completely normal thing to do.

“Mmmm...On its own, this is a nine. Nine point five tops.”

Lynsie eyes the slice and then takes her bite.

“Needs...Ice cream. Maybe vanilla or strawberry to go with it. Then this would be perfect. But congratulations! You're not only the currently highest rated in the sweet category but also the highest score in total. I sure hope you can keep it by the end.”

She teases ominously while Sir Thomas picks up his tart. He nods and returns to his station, the others giving him hard envious stares.

“You painted a target on his back.”

“The target was there already. I merely pointed it out.”

She writes on her clipboard and Jack ushers over another to give it their shot. Nutmegan gets her dish and begins to traverse the attacks of the others, slipping on remnants of Tommy's mess and hitting the table, but managing to save her creation.

“Nice save. How's the face? Your nose is bleeding.”

Jack comments as she picks herself up and places the pie down, wiping her nose.

“S-Sorry, Mr. Horner. Um...For my entree, I offer this savory chicken pot pie.”

“Another safe choice? I mean, it's smart to make classics. It's hard to mess up a tried and true recipe. But this is for the limited edition! These are meant to hook people in and make them buy into more! People want something interesting. Something they likely never thought could be a dish and can't get anywhere else. Something they can't just go up to their family and have made on request.”

He sighs and rubs his face.

“Might as well see if you at least made it taste good. Flavor can still make or break this.”

He waits for Lynsie to cut out his slice but she doesn't move. Oddly enough, she seems to just be staring off into space directly zoning on a back wall. He snaps his fingers to get her attention yet she remains still. This gets him curious.

“Um...Is she...?”

Nutmegan questions but is shushed by the woman who puts her clipboard down and remains still, as if waiting for something, hyper focused. Suddenly she takes a sharp breath and then bolts from the room. Jack's eyes narrow and he stands up.

“Mr. Horner?”

“What's going on?”

He leaves the table and begins to storm off ominously, a look of hate coming to his face.

“I have an unwanted guest.”

That makes them flinch.

“Put your dishes away. This is on hold till I have the head of this idiot on my wall!”

Jack leaves the kitchen as the members of the Baker's Dozen scramble to put things away and ready for their boss's return. One would think they'd accompany him and aid in the capture of the intruder, but no. They are enforcers. This is a job for the guards. For what good are they if they can't do their job?

…

Her hurry is like a bat out of hell. It was a faint sound that caught her attention. One she had taught herself to hear over the years of being in her position. The sound of a certain bird in an important room. The frantic rush of her steps draws attention from the workers on the main bakery floor especially since she's alone and she flings the doors of the trophy room open.

“Ember!”

The Phoenix trills and points its head upward toward the rafters. Lo and behold, there seems to be nothing up there. But Lynsie knows better. The bird doesn't lie. Not to her. The kindness she gives it earned her its favor at least enough to use it as an burglar alarm. She shuts the doors, limiting the escape room for this thief.

“You've made a very big mistake this day.”

Her voice is as sweet as sugar but also as cold as ice as she stares upward, scanning for movement.

“No one gets away with trying to rob "Big" Jack Horner.”

The room is dead silent. All that can be heard is the crackle of the fire, the hum of contained magic in bottles, and the tiny sounds the Phoenix makes just merely being in its cage. So she listens harder. Slowly creeping her way up by the door by climbing the brick around it and the thick support beams in the wall. The higher she got, the more focused she was. So much so that the other sounds of the room fade away. All she hears is her breathing and her heartbeat...and a faint sound...the sound of purring.

…

Jack, despite following her shortly after she left his side, doesn't arrive on the main floor for a bit of time. He's in no rush. It's not often someone is stupid enough to try to steal from him. They'd have to be a moron to ignore his remorseless reputation, the imposing nature of the compound, and the ridiculous amount of guards. Even then, if somehow they get in, it's not like they'll get far. He's got someone who puts guard dogs to shame. So when he does arrive, the sight of other guards holding the doors to his trophy room closed yet being pushed back sometimes isn't too surprising. What is a surprise though, is the sounds he can hear. The roar of flames being shot. The smack of something hard hitting against the wood. The clanking of metal. The growling of a beast trying to maul something. And the screeching of a...cat?

Smoke plumes under the door and the guards holding the door jump back, the thick wood of the doors getting too hot for them to be near even if it wasn't on fire. Now with the main force keeping the room shut gone the doors burst open. A shout calls out and the cry of the Phoenix is followed by a stream of fire then a figure flying out down the steps to the floor below. ...It's not the thief.

Lynsie tumbles but gets up, her uniform is marred with cuts from a blade and there's a murderous look in her eyes.

“Not bad, Little Lynn...”

A familiar voice hits Jack's ears and he sees Kitty Softpaws step out with her sword drawn, a satchel at her side.

“But you'll need to do better.”

Lynsie snarls and takes deliberately slow steps. Her eyes glaring, focused, unblinking, and angry. Jack stays off to the side and watches. Sure, he could step in and make things easier. But then he wouldn't get to see things play out. It's not every day a break-in happens. As much as Kitty annoys him and her attempting to rob him ticks him off, there's entertainment to be had watching the scene unfold much like watching a stage play. Kitty chuckles to herself as the other guardsmen begin to move in.

“Do not...INTERFER!!”

Lynsie springs quickly up and grabs one of the other guards, stealing their sword before flinging the poor soul at the trespassing thieving feline. Kitty, being a small nimble target and skilled fighter, easily avoids the flung guard but not the speedy sword strike that follows. Resulting in both going back into the trophy room. Others make to follow but are halted by Jack. No way he was letting something this interesting end so abruptly. The sound of steel smacking together grows louder as the dueling dames reemerge, fencing as though nothing else around them exists.

If the scene was to be described, it was like a battle between a cobra and a mongoose. Both are equally capable combatants, skilled in similar techniques, yet different in mind and body. When Lynsie tries to strike, Kitty is quick to deflect the attack. Using her smaller stature, Kitty circles Lynsie looking for an opening to attack by climbing on conveyor belts and leaping around. But Lynsie is remarkably alert to her surroundings and able to parry what Kitty dishes out.

“Impressive. So you are more than just his nanny.”

Kitty attempts to banter but the woman remains focused.

“You're awfully quiet. What's wrong, Little Lynn? Cat got your tongue.”

Kitty spies a blind spot and goes for it, jumping over Lynsie and yanking the woman's hair before she can turn around, aiming to pull her down from the force. This only partly works. It brings her down, yes, but not all the way. She snaps her head up, flinging Kitty back in front and slamming her into the floor before she pins her down under her boot.

“You talk too much.”

Lynsie reaches down to grab the satchel, to reclaim the goods this pilfering pussycat has nabbed. Suddenly she reels back with a roar. A dagger jabbed into her calf. Kitty kicks herself out from under her and flips back to put some distance between them.

“Want some advice? Never let your guard down.”

“Heed your own words, Miss Softpaws.”

Lynsie holds up a golden apple much to Kitty's surprise.

“You disappoint me, Miss Softpaws. Turning on your benefactor? Shameful.”

She rolls her eyes.

“That's rich. You sent me on a suicide mission!”

“Excuses. If you couldn't handle getting one little lantern, that's on you.”

Kitty's eyes narrow. She had the feeling she was set up to go into those woods. She barely got away with her life when that witch showed up. It was just the final nail in her trust coffin being hammered in. Whenever she had let her guard down she's been double-crossed, declawed, played, and betrayed. She thought she had found a decent enough means of constant work that not only paid well but tested her in ways that normal jobs didn't. But nope. Once again, life spat on her. This is why she was a solo act. Why she keeps her secrets and plays her cards close to her chest. That's the only way to get a winning hand these days. Never trust anyone.

“Give me the bag, Miss Softpaws.”

“Nah. I don't think so.”

“That wasn't a request.”

“Oh, I know.”

“...So be it.”

Despite the stab wound and bleeding, Lynsie's speed appears unhindered. Lynsie lunges forward, blade swinging in a mock offense. Kitty launches straight into the attack, she twists away, jumping back, closing in for the attack again, and then reverses once more. Simply avoiding Lynsie's quick parry, she slips in on her other side for a feint, Lynsie dodges the attack and counters. Further, they traverse the factory grounds, being watched the entire time. It becomes painfully clear this fight will go on until one of them scores a disabling blow. Otherwise, at this rate, they'll keep clashing till they're past the town's border. Something Jack realizes. With a wave of his hand, he sicks the other guards to join in to end it.

Ignoring the added muscle in the fight, Lynsie unleashes a wild flourish, her aim less precise like a trained fighter and more like that of an indiscriminate killer. Any that got in her path, even if an ally, were met with her wrath. While used to handling being swarmed in a fight, Kitty soon feels the pressure that comes when dealing with a force that won't relent. Sure, she could use this. She could make Lynsie take out the other guards by luring her so that they're in her view. But she isn't given the break to do so. The fury of swipes sent her way is only getting faster and harsher, sparks flying out of gashes in the floor from Lynsie's slashing.

“What's wrong, Kitty?”

Jack's voice calls out mockingly.

“If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen!”

Kitty scowls and then hisses loudly, being distracted just enough to take a hard boot to her nose. She is sent flying against the doors to the outside courtyard. Lynsie prowls closer, her sword clasped tightly and held up at the ready with both hands, the remaining unmaimed guards staying a safe distance behind her. This was it. With how intense the adrenaline has been increasing Lynsie's speed, Kitty doesn't have the room to evade. If anything, even if she tries, she will get hit but the level of damage will vary. Then her eyes notice it. A shine glistening on the floor. The crimson trail that follows all the way up to the woman looming toward her. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance.

Taking aim at the cat, Lynsie dives at Kitty, putting her full force into the lunging strike. Yet, doing so, her wounded leg gives slightly under her weight and it throws her off. Seeing this, Kitty jumps upward and Lynsie crashes into the doors, busting them open. With the courtyard open, all that separates Kitty from the freedom of victory is the main gate...and maybe the dozen or so guards that monitor the area.

“Stop her! Don't let her get away!”

Jack orders, things have gotten serious now. Kitty is in full evasion and escape mode. Her full acrobatic reflexes are on display as she avoids the volley of ax swings, sword sweeps, and arrow shots. Bouncing all around sporadically while she scales the walls. She is about to cross the barbwire lining the edge when something pins her side to the stone. A sword, hurled in spite had pierced into Kitty's satchel and was decently deep in the wall. Looking back, Kitty sees Lynsie kneeling with a malicious smirk on her face. Kitty tries to grab the goods from the bag but one look inside has her grimacing, she leaves the satchel and resumes her escape over the wall. The guards open the gates and pursue Kitty into the town.

Lynsie remains kneeling. The blood loss starting to get to her now, now that the adrenaline is wearing off. She looks up at the skewered satchel. Black ooze dribbles down through the cut in the leather. It was a desperate move, to destroy the golden apples, but it was better than to let Kitty get away with them. The sound of steps behind her is muffled to her ears. Jack's large shadow engulfs her form as he approaches. He soon comes up to stand beside her, his hands behind his back in a casual manner. His eyes follow her gaze to the dripping bag. A sneer twitches his lips yet he stops when she taps his arm.

“What is it?”

She retrieves from her vest the apple she took from back from Kitty earlier. Seeing it brings a smile to Jack's face. He takes the priceless fruit from her and pats her head like one would pet a faithful dog.

“Good girl.”

The joy that comes to her is pure. A soft coo of delight even escapes her...before her eyes roll back and she hits the ground with a sickening thud. Jack looks down at her unconscious body and only now notices the small pool of blood collecting around her. He shakes his head with a sigh and plucks her up by the scruff of her uniform.

“What am I going to do with you?”

He questions to himself while bringing her and the golden apple back inside.

…

A soft gentle tune plays. A beautifully somber song. It fills the silence of the room. The source? A magic golden harp that plays and sings by itself. Yet there is no singing, not right now at least. The mood didn't call for it nor did the harp's owner want to hear more than its melody at the moment. Jack lounges in a chair, his nose deep in a book and a glass of wine on the stand beside him. A rare moment of serene complacency. His woes finally not troubling him as they were before.

“Ugh...”

The sound of a groan makes him pause, his attention going to the other end of the room. In bed, nestled rather snugly, Lynsie lies. It had been four days since the break-in with Kitty. The blood loss took its toll but Jack also used the moment to slip her the sleeping potion. It seemed to help her with recovering. The facility physician estimated her to be down for a week. Yet now she stirs with a cough.

“There's water to your left.”

Not questioning why he's in her room or how long he's been there, she sits up and grabs the glass on her nightstand, drinking deeply. Her dry throat demands to be quenched. She practically guzzles the water in mere moments.

“How'd you sleep?”

She rubs her throat and gives a few small coughs before trying to speak.

“Okay...”

“No nightmares?”

She shakes her head.

“Good.”

He takes a sip of his wine.

“Did we get her?”

Her question made him sigh.

“No. She managed to slip away.”

She pouts at this.

“I'm sorry.”

He looks at her funny and she grips her sheets in annoyance at herself.

“Had I been better...I could've...”

“Don't be stupid.”

She flinches.

“You responded when everyone else was clueless. You fought hard. You kept her from taking anything while also saving part of my collection. You did good.”

She bites her tongue, wanting to accept this but still loathing about how she could've done better.

“How long was I out for?”

“Four days. You didn't miss much.”

That's not how she felt about it. The sleep was good, yes. But she didn't like feeling useless.

“Who did you pick? For the limited sale thing, I mean.”

“That? I picked... Uh, what's her name? The one without sleeves.”

“Betsy? She won you over?”

He shrugs his shoulders.

“Eh, I just picked her because she was last. I didn't care enough to bother with the scores.”

It's not like he hasn't done something like that before. If his mood isn't right he tends to lazily go with whatever is easy to just get things over and done with as fast as possible. Such action hardly ever backfired on him, but there were times that it did. Like, he'll sign up for things he hates when trying to rush like that. She just hoped such a mood didn't affect him too much while she was out of commission.

“Oh, by the way...”

He takes a long drink of wine and only now does she realize what he's drinking. He doesn't drink like that unless it's for one of three reasons. One, it's a fancy meal. Two, it's a party/celebration. Or three...

“We're visiting my parents this weekend.”

Yeah...That. That explains it.

[corgiplays]

Okay so I am not the person one should go to if you want any sort of smut what so ever like I wrote it like once and I could only go halfway before I got weirded out but like the part that I did wrote was decent but the urge to write just the intimacy not like the act but the feelings involved with the act especially surrounding Polish Robin because I've put that girl through the works

The biggest issue I'm having is how do write it without writing the act? Because I traumatized myself with my writing the first time (it was scarily good from what some people said) and it's not the focus

Like in the 'Please Don't Leave Me AU' it's mainly how Robin deals with the aftermath of Vecna when he plagues her with her own memories, her friends finding out about her past, the Soviet Union going after her and the apocalyptic winter that happens because of Vecna

And Robin has to deal with her past, she pushed it far away from her memory, her mother's suicide, her torture, her training, the brand that sits on her side like an anchor and everything in between

So when things end up getting heated with Nancy Robin freezes because even through Nancy has seen the scars littering her upper body she's afraid of being intimate in an emotional and physical way, Robin's mind, body and spirit went through hell as she was molded into a spy she couldn't afford to be vulnerable in any way because people took advantage of that (eluding to and mentioning some sa so be warned) so even though she knows the kids and Nancy she doesn't allow herself to be vulnerable

And Nancy is the same way she doesn't like to be vulnerable because her child like innocence was taken from her too with Barb's death but that's emotional vulnerability which with Robin's help she gets better at dealing with and expressing herself before she blows up

But Robin doesn't know how to get better, especially after the Russians attack and the apocalyptic winter hits Hawkins Robin's in full survival mode she doesn't allow her body to be vulnerable because she's going to get hurt like she did in Russia, the party can't touch her were she can't see them because she lashes out (Dustin got punched in the face because he put a hand on Robin's back), she doesn't go to sleep and no one knows if she does sleep, she's self sacrificial throwing herself in front whoever she can, a lot of Robin's humanity and emotions shut off when this happens and it takes a while before anyone figured out how to break the glassed over look in Robin's eyes

So when Robin does find herself in a compromising position with Nancy she panics and tries to run away because those situations never ended up well for her, Robin gets a panic attack and Nancy has to calm her down without touching her because it's all too much and reminds Robin of her time before where she slept with one eye open so no one could take advantage of her again

And Nancy is the best at making sure Robin knows that she is safe and that Nancy won't do anything bad to her because she's not like those Russian men and women who took advantage of her but she's someone who cares for her and is willing to help Robin with her communication and boundaries whenever it comes to something intiment and Robin feels so safe and loved

It's not an instant fix it takes Robin years before the two of them go all the way but when they do it's passionate and loving and at a pace where Robin can back out at anything if it's too much it's not rough or hard or fast but slow and tender it's the two of them exploring themselves and what they like, there's no pressure or unwillingness but just two girls who are allowing themselves to be intimate with one another after so much trauma

And the two of them work on it with light and soft touch to get Robin used to the feeling and for Nancy to break out of her internalized homophobia and the fear of someone catching them

I just want these two to enjoy something soft and tender because they've been through so much that they deserve a time where there's no pressure or fear

Sorry about the rant but it's been sitting in my head all day

@ronance4everbrainrot just thought you'd enjoy the rant <3

[jodilin65]

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1988 I just finished watching Unsolved Mysteries. It was ok, but I’ve seen better shows of theirs.

Earlier I worked as the office manager at Channel 57 for the second time. It’s very boring and tedious but it’s something to do. It’s a very easy job though I had feared before it would be difficult. There isn’t much that’s too hard for me. If you can learn to play a musical instrument and all the other things I’ve learned, then you can learn anything, although I hate anything dealing with numbers.

There are still times I wish I were straight and could have sex with a guy and enjoy it and be attracted to a guy as I am to women, but they’re such assholes. But then again, male or female, that is all I ever get anyway.

I’m taking a chance nonetheless. I sent Between Friends $70, but if I’m not attracted to any of these 3 women or they’re jerks or they’re decent and I lose them, then I think I’d be damn entitled to my money back. I guess if that happens, you renew your membership. Like hell I will. For $295? No way!

I’ve been taking only 5mg of Navane and I’ve been basically ok. Only a couple of bad times, but they passed; those racing thoughts that make me depressed.

Well, it doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere for Chanukah or my b-day. Tammy and I got into another squabble as usual and she hasn’t called. But I won’t be surprised if she does. It’s like Andy said to me, “You know you’re gonna make up with her.” No doubt she’ll call at the last minute. Actually, though, I’m really kind of hoping she’ll stay pissed and not call. I don’t think I want to go down there. Besides, I despise the fact of having Nerve drive me down and totally dread it.

The bus ticket price coming back is crazy and I also feel I’d like to celebrate alone. Once again I get that feeling of pride at not turning to anyone on my b-day. I’m really doing great at sheltering myself and keeping independent.

Andy or Nervous should be calling any minute now I guess.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 1988 I woke up this morning feeling miserable so I called my allergy doctor. Next Wed. at 10:00 I see him.

Thank God Nervous woke me up. He tried at 10:00 but obviously, I never heard the phone. When he called back at 11:30, I was exhausted. If I sleep too much I feel tired.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 1988 I got back an hour or so ago from Longmeadow where we had dinner. It was nice, except for the fact that half the meal exploded on the stove, cuz as we’ve learned, you never put glass on a stove. But she did, so we had a hell of a mess. Also, Becky broke a plate. We took pictures of both of these episodes for Mom. She’ll love it.

When Tammy came to pick me up we went to Store 24 so I could get ciggies and a lighter and she said she saw Nervous. Probably spying. He did call last night and it looks like I am stuck with him going to Salem.

I just called Ma and said we’re so glad she’s 1400 miles away. We’re sending her pictures.

Tammy says my singing’s not the worse but it’s not the best. That’s good enough for me.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 1988 Well, they say it gets worse before it gets better. Today I had a miserable day, but I stuck to only 5mg instead of 10mg of Navane. I feel very much better than I have since I cut down. It was miserable as the doctor said it would be. I was very dizzy all the time and my mind was racing and I was anxious as all hell, but it’s gone now. The question is for how long, though? Tammy agreed I just needed to adjust. Still seems always to be worse before my period which I should be getting any day now. I’ve been cramping like hell.

Al was supposed to call me again tonight and he hasn’t yet and I have come to hope he won’t.

Andy never called last night like he said he would and Nervous didn’t either and probably won’t tonight either.

Speaking of Andy, he’s on the phone with me now. He may be coming over later.

Nervous probably won’t call til after my birthday cuz of the nasty things I’ve said. He’ll try to avoid giving me a ride cuz it’s for Chanukah and my birthday and he’ll never get me a gift. That’s how obsessive males are. They always figure they’re owed something in return.

I haven’t shit in a week and I don’t know why. I’ve taken my Medimucal and have eaten a lot. The Navane causes that and the doctor says once you cut down or stop, the side effects get worse before they get better, so I’ll have to suffer for a while longer. Probably won’t shit for another week or two.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 1988 I got up at 7:15 after having some very unpleasant dreams.

Sure enough, there was a message on my machine from Andy. I think I remember hearing it when he called, but I was just too damn tired, and I figured that once I was fully awake after talking with him, I’d never go back to sleep.

I had woken up at 1:00 to go pee and get some cookies and something to drink and the cat was so funny. She came over to where I was sitting at the kitchen table and squinted up at me through half-closed eyes. You could see she had definitely been sound asleep and wasn’t used to the bright lights yet, but as soon as I get up, she does too. Every morning it’s the same routine. I get up, go into the bathroom, close the door and she waits outside the door and meows. When I come out, she follows me into the kitchen where she demands to be petted and loved and then I feed her. After that it’s playtime. I have the same routine for waking up in the morning. Coffee, then music.

I also woke up last night at 3:00 to smoke maybe 6 drags off a cigarette, then again at 4:30.

Later…

Today’s the day I go for my interview at the school department on State St. I hope they need me full-time cuz I’m gonna have some free time till I move.

Later, I’ve got to call Mansfield about my written exam and the temporary permit I was supposed to have received in the mail a long time ago. I thought the director was supposed to get back to me, but she hasn’t yet.

December 3rd is gonna be one miserable day with having to put up with the mouth and crazy driving.

I want to hurry up and move so badly. Tammy says she highly doubts I’ll be here when the summer comes, but who knows? I didn’t think I’d still be here now.

I hope this court case gets dropped if I don’t drop it myself by not showing up. Everyone says it’ll get dropped and that they just want to waste my time. That’s males for you. My lawyer’s an asshole. A typical male for sure. I’m glad I’m gay. I really am. It may be hard to find a woman who’s gay, let alone a good one, but 98% of males are jerks. Statistics say so many wives and girlfriends get abused by their boyfriends or husbands.

Al dumped me simply cuz I wasn’t good enough for him, cuz of my past and cuz he couldn’t get it in there. He was very negative and there was always something wrong with me. He can have a happy life, cuz he’ll never get a decent woman, nor is he capable of loving anyone.

Later…

I’m gonna be volunteering at one of the schools doing library assisting, Monday, Wednesday & Thursday. Also, if they need me to speak sign language or Spanish, they’ll let me know. She also said sometimes for the holidays they need singers.

I called Al before I left and told him how I feel. All I want to do is make him happy and be happy as well. I want him to give me a chance to show I care and want him to try to care for me. I know what I did wrong back then and would never repeat my mistakes. I realize I may have had some problems, but he ran away as if he didn’t care. I didn’t mean to scare him away, but I just wish he’d open up and be more encouraging, not so negative. I would never hurt him. I just want to spend the night in his arms with good things to talk about. I want to feel cared for and I want to care for him. I know he’d never marry and have kids with me, and I accept that. He says he’s gonna call me later. If he does, he’ll never come over.

Later…

I just got Gloria’s album Otro Vez and I can’t believe how much I understand. The picture of her on the back cover looks pitiful. She had short hair, seemed plump and looked like Liza Manelli. There was this other girl too, but Gloria looked awful. They’re supposed to send me the other one called Rio soon. They’re temporarily out of stock of it. I owe them $10 for this album and tomorrow or Friday I’ve got to go to get the two 12” records I ordered.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 1988 Today at 3:00, I have to see Dr. Osborne. That sucks.

Tomorrow I go for an interview at the school dept. I wonder what they will need me to do.

I just called Elizabeth who says she’s gonna have some photocopying but isn’t sure when she’ll have the stuff ready but will call me today or tomorrow to let me know for sure. Probably Wednesday.

Last night I called Tammy and even sang for her a little on the phone. I told her I wanted a music book for my birthday. Either Canciones De Mi Padre or Madonna. Hope she gets it.

I still don’t know what to get my family and friends but I don’t think I’m gonna shop till next month. Around December 1st I’ll start my gift shopping.

Later…

I just called Tammy and told her that Philip can’t bring me down to her place on December 3rd cuz he’s going to Mexico. If not, I’ll be on the bus.

Tammy said, “Just use Nervous. It’ll be only for an hour and a half. “

No way, I told her. He’s too pushy, never shuts up, drives like a maniac and I just don’t trust his car.

Tammy said she’ll get back to me.

Nervous says he’s gonna get me a keyboard but I doubt it, and if he does, he better not expect me to kiss his ass cuz things aren’t gonna change.

Oh God, what’s he gonna do when I move? He’ll just die. I’ll give him my address and number but I really don’t want to see him. I will, however, talk to him on the phone. Why not? He’ll be paying and he’s more tolerable on the phone than in person. If I ever let him see me inside my apartment or in the neighborhood, he’ll no doubt be awfully curious and will probably spy. I hope he does. The thought amuses me.

Later…

I called for bus fare info just in case and the prices are outrageous. $20 one-way and $38 round-trip. Ridiculous. I’ll get down there somehow.

In 20 minutes or so I’ve got to catch the bus downtown, then transfer to the Feeding Hills bus. What sucks is that I’m gonna have to wait for a half-hour for the doctor and then 40-45 minutes for the bus afterward.

Later…

I am now at Osborne’s waiting to see the “Wizard of Oz.” I think I just saw Debbie, the little jerk.

When I got off the bus I went to Dunkin Donuts cuz I knew I had time to kill and I’ll have plenty of it to kill after I see Oz, too. Before I got on the Feeding Hills bus I went into Johnson’s and bought more journals. A big one and a little one. The prettiest one of all has no lines.

It’s about 3:00 now and I hope he’s not late as all doctors are. But then again it really doesn’t matter cuz the next bus isn’t till 4:00. After I see him I’ll be damned if I’ll wait outside. It’s too windy. I’ll wait in here.

I’ve been thinking about moving a lot lately. Yes, I really do want to move. And fast. But it’ll no doubt take several more months.

Later…

I just saw Ozzy and now I’m waiting for the bus. He’s a really nice guy. He says I’ve come a long way and have been through a lot. He agrees I am a survivor and can handle anything. He also says I definitely must stop the Navane. He understands it’ll be difficult but that it’s important to reverse the tardive dyskinesia. He gave me some tea which I’ll finish now, then go to the bus stop.

Later…

I am home now and I just ate 3 pieces of chicken, some rice and some green beans. Next, I’ll take my meds and my vitamins.

Some crazy wacko was running her mouth at the bus stop about the shelter she’s living in and the job she wants. Some people are weird. Reminds me of Nervo.

Wednesday I can’t forget to watch my show Unsolved Mysteries. I missed it last week.

I wonder when the people’s daughter, son and grandson upstairs are gonna move out. Their footsteps are obnoxious. Drunkie downstairs would just love it.

This morning, shortly before 8:30 I heard the bitch next door go out for work and I called her to make her run back inside, then hung up. She probably thinks she just got to the phone too late and will be wondering all day who it could’ve been.

Well, tonight is when Ma calls so I’ll postpone my shower till after she calls. Tammy has to get back to me, too.

Later…

The phone rang, I picked it up and said, “Hi ma.”

The reply was, “Wrong. It’s Elizabeth.” She was laughing and said she certainly wasn’t expecting that. She says she’s got no work for me this week but next Tues. she thinks she does.

I also told her I was apprehensive about being the office manager but says she’ll hang around at first till I get the hang of it. Also, Cheryl will be there. She said they’ll make sure I know what to do and that I’m enjoying it or else I can do something else. I told her that I’m sure I’ll enjoy it and that once I get started it’ll be easy.

I just remembered Andy’s calling tonight too, along with Nervous, as usual. He’ll never fail to forget to call.

Later…

Dad just called. He sounds good. I told him what I wanted but I guess they’re sending me money instead.

I discussed the progress I’ve been making on my piano and told him the two things that were the most shocking. One, my getting the voice to sing and two, their being on my side.

I told him I pictured him being part of an interview someday where a guy says to my father, “She says she’s so glad she has enough money now so she can take you out to dinner.” I can just see the expression on my father’s face. Dad said it’ll come in time. He seems so sure of me.

Later…

Tammy just called. No one can give me a ride to Salem! I gotta go with Nervous! Shit! Damn! Fuck! Why do I always end up having to use that low-life scum? He’ll never shut up. He’ll get us killed or his car will break down. Well, just think, soon I’ll be moved and I’ll be through with him.

Andy better not call me when I’m sleeping or else!

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 1988 Yesterday I had a long day at Channel 57. I canceled my check-up so I could work longer but will reschedule after Turkey Day for sure.

Andy called and told me not to think he died but that he’s had company all weekend. A bunch of relatives are coming to see his sister and her baby. So he won’t be calling me till Monday.

Tammy also called to say that she wants me to get a ride down to her place on December 3rd for a Chanukah dinner, then stay overnight and celebrate my b-day the next day which will be a Sunday.

How? I don’t know if Philip will be able to get me down there. I’ll never ask Nervous but Tammy said to just use him for the ride and she’ll send him right back home afterward. I never want to have to use him to drive me anywhere and take the chance of getting killed or his car breaking down and I couldn’t stand to put up with him that long. He’ll never shut up and he’s a little pushy bastard!

She says she doesn’t know if Mom and Dad are even coming home this winter for the holidays and the store. She says she hasn’t heard one way or the other. It doesn’t look like they’ll be coming back until April. But then again, I thought I remembered Dad saying they would be here one time in the van as he was bringing me home from somewhere. Every other winter they’ve come in.

I changed the bedroom around to the way it was before I discovered this spider nest.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 1988 I fell asleep very early last night but kept waking up for 3 reasons. One is that the phone kept ringing. Two is cuz I kept having to pee after taking my water pill. Three is I kept having these weird dreams.

Last night I had this really weird dream about Nervous. Apparently, in this dream, I owned my own home which had a basement and a first floor. I was in the basement which was a long room lined with small windows along a wall that was a little over my head. I was going through some old clothes when I heard a car and said to myself, That’s Nervous’s car. I know it is.

I turned off all the lights and stood behind some furniture in the center of the room and waited. Sure enough, I heard him shuffling through the grass and saw him walk up to the farthest window at the very end of the room where my stereo was. He just stood there and waited, no doubt hoping I’d come down to listen to my stereo.

Next thing I know he was in the cellar with me, the lights were on, and I was telling him I heard his car and saw him walk up to the window. He stood there laughing. Then there was a double-size bed near the stereo and I was lying on it starting to feel very sleepy and he was sitting on the other side of it. All of a sudden he had his arms around me and asked, “Is this wrong?”

I got up off the bed and said, “Yes, this is wrong. You sleep here and I’ll go upstairs to sleep in my bedroom. When you get up in the morning, wake me up and I’ll let you out.”

But then he started to get up off the bed and follow me and said, “Let’s talk.”

Then the phone rang and I said, “Who the fuck is that at this hour? You answer it.”

Later…

I called Dee to see if she could do my hair, and she said to come in at 11:00. I want it trimmed so that it’s one length, although I don’t think I look really terrible with my short hair layered. Maybe if I grew my hair long again I’d look too much like a little girl. I know I’ll definitely keep the front short with layered bangs, but I guess I do really miss my length and it’s gonna take me about 5 years to get it even and to the middle of my back.

I was thinking I may walk up to Shopper’s for my Femstat and have breakfast at the deli next door.

Later…

I just had my hair evened out and it looks really nice. I also bought this shampoo which she used to make my hair really soft.

I was also up at the deli where I got eggs and toast and some coffee. Tony, the cop I know, was there and as usual, he teased my ass like crazy.

Elizabeth is coming over tonight with envelopes for me to stuff.

I told Nervous last night to call me around 8:00 so he can take me food shopping.

I’ve got to tell Nervo about the dream I had last night. He should definitely get a kick out of it. Probably wish it could be true, too. Getting his arms around me, staying overnight.

I bought some more clothes from Goodwill. A bra, two pairs of sweatpants, pajamas and another nightie, which is so tiny and fits me perfectly.

By the way, speaking of the weight I lost, even Tony noticed it too. It’s a little scary in a way, though, cuz every summer I automatically lose 10-15 pounds. This summer I certainly can’t afford to lose one more pound! I’d be bones.

Mary Lou just called saying I needed to see Dr. Osborne Monday at 3:00 cuz I never saw Dr. Moshiri. That means I can’t see her and that sucks.

Also, I’m gonna write to Medicare about their crazy policy that the therapists can’t come to our homes. We have to go there which sucks cuz not everyone has a car and it’s not easy for the therapists either.

I just finished having a whole can of sardines, 10 pieces of bacon and a bagel with cream cheese.

Right now I must go call Elizabeth and ask her to please try to bring my paperwork earlier.

Later…

Tomorrow at 9:00 I have to go to Channel 57 to do the work I was supposed to do here at home. Elizabeth says she was having trouble with her printing machine. Also, Channel 57 voted me volunteer of the month, therefore I’m to have my picture in their magazine with a few paragraphs about me.

Tomorrow I also have to get a dental check-up at the Holyoke Mall. I would never ask Nervous to drive me with the sick way he drives, nor could I stand to have to put up with him that long.

Nervo may be calling soon. I don’t need or want him to take me to Food Mart.

I wonder where Sasha is. Must be hiding out sleeping either under the bed or under the couch or chairs in the living room. 95% of the time, though, she’s on the bed.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 1988 If I don’t get to sleep I’ll never make it to my appointment in the morning. Also, at 2:30 I have to see a GYN. A male. I hate these painful exams!

There are so many things up in the air right now and so many questions. What will happen in court? What will happen with the dating service? What’s my future gonna be? What’s gonna happen if no other medication but the Navane will work?

Later…

Well, Nervous called me at 7:30 but I fell back asleep so I missed my appointment. I rescheduled it for Dec. 1st.

Hopefully tonight I’ll be going to Food Mart. I’ve been out of soda and milk and want to get some TV dinners. Also, I should get some light bulbs cuz I have no more and if the lamp in the bedroom burns out, then I’m stuck.

This afternoon at 2:30 I’m definitely going to my GYN appointment to take care of this yeast infection. I’ll walk there. They’re not too far from here. I’ll probably leave between 1:45 and 2:00.

I wonder if that gay taxi driver, Linda, is gonna call today? I never know if Maria will ever call. Why can’t she just be honest? Why she ever gave me her phone number totally baffles me. It even shocked Andy. Andy says Maria hasn’t even called Bev.

I’ve got a package of bacon in the refrigerator that I think I’m gonna go make up now, along with a bagel for breakfast.

Later…

Believe it or not, I just got a call from the school department. This woman wants me to come in for an interview for volunteer work. She says she’s not in need of an interpreter but would like to discuss the possibility of me doing something else. That’d be great. It’ll keep me busy. I hope. I hope it’s full-time. I’m going crazy just sitting here every day going nowhere but to doctors and doing errands.

I spoke to Mary C also. She was watching a movie on HBO and says her son William is sick and she just brought him home from the doctor’s.

She said she may take a drive over later. Yeah, sure. She damn well better plan on giving me back my black sweatpants she took the last time I saw her. Either way, she is going to return them and never again will she be allowed to borrow one single thing.

I think now I’m gonna take a walk to the store. I’m dying for some soda.

Later…

I took a bath and shaved, then I ran to the store for some soda and a hamburger.

In a little more than a half-hour from now, I’m gonna start walking over to Ridgewood Terrace for the crotch doctor which I dread. Another male touching my body. It’s so painful, too.

The mailman just came, but not with Gloria’s records I ordered, so I sent them back.

Some stupid Puerto Rican is outside honking its horn as usual. I’m so sick of this neighborhood. After growing up in beautiful areas, I miss it, and it’s time to move. That is for sure. When I move I won’t have to worry about leaving my doors open or anything. I highly doubt I will associate with Nervous when I move. I won’t need him and it wouldn’t be the greatest idea for him or for me. He’ll always be lonely with no woman and no friends and when I move, or possibly before, maybe he’ll realize why. He’s such a sad case. Que lastima.

Later…

I am at the doctor’s office now and the secretary seems kind and reassuring but I still hate to go through this shit.

It’s almost 3:00 but the doctor is running late as usual. Aren’t all doctors always late?

Mrs. Witherspoon from the 4th floor drove me here. I called for a taxi but it never came and the dispatcher couldn’t page Linda.

Later…

Well, the exam went ok and yes, as usual, I do have a yeast infection.

The dispatcher could never page Linda the gay driver so I got a different driver to go home. It cost me $2.

It seemed so dark all day. Even at 2:00. It’s not even 5:00 and it’s already just about pitch dark.

I hope Elizabeth will be willing to meet me at Montpelier St. tomorrow night a little earlier when she brings to me those envelopes she wants me to stuff. She’ll never be able to see me nor I see her if it’s too dark.

I hope Nervous calls soon. I do want to go to Food Mart. Never would I ask him to take me anywhere during the daytime. That’s when he’s always in his fucked-up mood and is so agitated and acts and talks like a two-year-old. I wonder why the daytime makes him more nervous. Several mornings ago he was extremely wound up but I’m quite sure that was cuz Fran had spent the night which he’s been dying to do. The first question out of his mouth when he called was, “Is monkey brain still there?”

I wouldn’t put it past him to come down to Norwich and say, “My car broke down. Can I stay the night?”

He’ll never get to stay the night, and if he comes to see me against my wishes I’ll kick his ass.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 1988 Nervous brought Sasha back last night. I really missed her although I never thought I would. I just hope the inspector doesn’t decide to double-check. Unfortunately, Carabetta allows no pets. Which is stupid. What if they were animals? Would they like to be homeless and out on the streets?

Also last night, Andy came over to teach me more songs. I’ve learned Talk To Me completely now and he also showed me some of If I Were You. I know Sara completely but need to finish learning La Isla Bonita. I attempted today to learn the song Piano Man by myself from an old book I’ve had for ages but it sure isn’t easy. I’m sure I’ll get it someday soon, though.

Today Andy called, but the answering machine picked up his call cuz I was in the shower. I knew it was him right away by the way he was singing at the top of his lungs. He and I both are crazy.

Nervous will no doubt call later.

Today I went to see my new therapist Mary Lou. She was ok. Nothing bad, but nothing spectacular. I ran my mouth quite a bit to her and she says I’m interesting.

Also today I was looking to buy a denim mini skirt, size 14 in girls, but they didn’t have a fitting room so I never bought it.

Before going to see Mary Lou I had a few minutes to kill so I looked in Falcetti’s for a music book, but I didn’t like the way this Madonna book was written and they have a shitty music selection, so I bought nothing there either.

I’ve been tired all day and I think I need to go eat now.

Later…

Nervous called. He didn’t have much to say. Just the usual about how he’s so busy running around here, there and everywhere. According to him, he was looking in a music store in the Eastfield Mall where they sell Yamaha keyboards. I wonder why cuz I told him to forget about that and instead just give me $100 for my birthday and Chanukah so I can pay for my dating service. Both would be nice, but that’s a little too much to ask for and that’d surely leave him broke and he’d end up evicted again.

Tomorrow morning at 9:30 I have an appointment with my asthma doctor in which I’m gonna have a taxi driver, who’s gay, that I met over the phone drive me cuz there’s no bus stop near their new office. I’m curious to see what she looks like. Probably butchy. She sounds like it just from talking to her over the phone. She’s had a girlfriend for 5 years she said.

Yesterday morning I called Maria at the bank where she works cuz I couldn’t get a hold of her for quite a while, and as usual, she hasn’t called me. I can’t believe she ever even gave me her phone number. Neither can Andy. Well, anyway, she says maybe sometime this week we can go see a movie. Yeah, sure! Why can’t she just be honest?

Later…

I just got off the phone with Nervous and right now I’m on the phone with Andy.

Emily really pisses me off. She never calls and therefore I’ll be damned if I’m ever gonna call her again. She’s busy, she’s tired. That’s a lie. She’s got time for other people and places. Like her friends Maria and Sylvia. She totally ignored me when I went to see her up at Shopper’s. Especially when Sylvia came in, as I may’ve mentioned before. I’m not even gonna say goodbye when I move.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 1988 I called the dating service and she really reassured me, although there are no guarantees, but time will tell.

Friday I got a promotion from Channel 57. Instead of answering phones I’m gonna be the office manager. My job will be to help other girls with any problems they may have, tally up pledges and enter them into a book.

Wednesday of next week, Elizabeth is gonna bring over some envelopes to stuff.

Unfortunately, everything’s closed today but I’ll be going up to Shopper’s Drug today to see Emily.

Earlier this morning I scrubbed the kitchen floor 3 times as it was filthier than filthy, sang a little, and I hope to hell the inspector comes tomorrow and that Nervous calls so he can bring the cat back.

Am I very sorry I reunited as friends with Nervo! He’s his same old self. Pitiful. The way he drove to New Britain scared the shit out of me and he got us lost as usual after saying he knew where to go. I think maybe he did that deliberately, hoping they’d tell me it was too late whenever I got there and to come back another time. That way he could spend the day with me again.

He freaked out yesterday morning on the phone no doubt cuz Fran was here overnight, and after I get Sasha back I don’t want to associate with him again. I have learned my lesson. It took some time but he is a male and that’s the way they all are. Sick.

Later…

I went up to see Emily and I want nothing more to do with her either. She totally ignored me but when her pal Sylvia came in she jumped for joy. She’s totally abandoned our friendship. Ever since last year. But she has other friends she sees and calls all the time but she never calls me. Maybe she’ll get the hint when she never receives any more phone calls from me.

Believe it or not, I just got Mary C’s number. Yes, she’s still married to John and says she’s got 8 more weeks and 6 days till she has another baby. She says it’s John’s but told me a long time ago he couldn’t make anymore cuz he had a vasectomy. I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t by cheating. She’s cheated on him numerous times in the past. That’s why it surprised me when they got married.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1988 Last night I took that medication again that Dr. Moshiri gave me and once again it put me right to sleep at 10:00. At 2:00 Andy called and I stayed up to reverse my schedule cuz yesterday I slept all day and never went to Channel 57. Today I have to go at 10:00, then at noon, I’m going to New Britain to that dating service. I have to be there at 1:00. But I couldn’t believe how that medication really calmed me down and took away all my anxiety.

Right now I have the hiccups.

Nervous bought me corrective tape cuz I typed him a business letter so I could easily erase any mistakes I made.

Yesterday morning I tried to call my sister but her line was busy for ages. I may call her tonight to tell her about today’s trip, but then again I don’t think she gives a damn. Oh well.

I called the doctor about my vaginal problem explaining I didn’t ever plan to have a relationship again with a male and that I preferred women and he said I shouldn’t even bother to do anything about the problem. He said not to force myself to do or be what I can’t. Do whatever’s natural for me and that’s being gay. I could never be straight and feel comfortable physically or mentally. Never. He’s right. He’s definitely got a point although I’d feel happier knowing that my problem was taken care of and it would surely help with everything else with a woman.

Nervous said he ran into Mary C and that she’s pregnant again. I’m not surprised, but it can’t be by John cuz she told me he supposedly had a vasectomy done. She’ll never make it with him cuz she has always cheated on him before, during and after their marriage and he’s a jerk. I never got her phone number but I don’t want it. She was never a friend. She only came over here when she wanted something.

I wish I could sleep now till 8:00 or 8:30 but I won’t chance it cuz I may never wake up and I must go to Channel 57!

Later…

I did stay up all night and right now I am at Channel 57 waiting for my boss Elizabeth who is still in a meeting.

After my work is done, and I sure as hell hope I get done before noon, I am going to New Britain.

Well, I am really very tired but I’d best ignore it cuz I have a long day ahead. I know I want to get something to eat either before my interview or right after. I’m starving! I’m so nerved up, too.

Andy says he’ll call me tonight and that he’ll be anxious to hear about how today will go. I’m quite curious myself about what will develop. Maybe not much. I think I’m dreaming an impossible dream which is something I seem to have done all my life and probably always will. All I get are jerks. Never can attract or hang onto the decent people.

I still don’t like the idea of spending the day with Nervioso. He’s a pain in the ass.

Later…

Sure enough, Nervous’s car did break down so he got a rental car and we are now heading for New Britain so my handwriting is awfully shaky.

Later…

Well, this place I went to definitely doesn’t seem like a rip-off but it is costly! $295, but to me, it’s worth it cuz as she agreed with me if you go to a bar all you’ll get is druggies and drunks who want one-night stands and may have aids. Also, I could put an ad in the Advocate for $35 and never know what I’m getting.

I filled out a personality questionnaire and discussed my hobbies, goals and interests and what attracts me sexually. All this info will be matched up with other woman’s info, and they will give me 3 people to meet that they feel are compatible with me.

I still have my fears and doubts, though. Will I ever find the right person? Someone who’ll attract me sexually like Gloria? If they’re the right person for me will they find me attractive? Will there be too many things wrong with the person? Will I get Miss Right and lose her cuz of my past or present problems?

Time will tell if this really is the answer or not. Another fear I have is what if the 3 women I meet are all wrong for me and I have to pay an additional $295 to meet 3 more? Can I cancel my membership when and if I find the right person? Will I have to pay a renewal fee? They weren’t very clear on all this.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 1988 I am now at the Laundromat.

I have a busy week. Tomorrow I see Mary Lou at 2:15. Wednesday I work for Channel 57. Thursday I go out of town to New Britain. And last but not least, Friday I see Dr. Moshiri, who I shall bitch out from head to toe.

Sometime this week I’d like to do some gift shopping for the family and also get my hair trimmed and basically just evened out.

Can’t wait till Mom calls tonight, I have lots to tell her.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 1988 Tomorrow morning I’m going to do laundry at Nervous’s rooming house. I told him to go get his breakfast while I’m doing it so he doesn’t bug me. He said ok.

Andy’s sister Marla flew in tonight from California with her 4-month-old son, so Andy was psyched.

I wonder when the hell I’ll ever move. Yes, I’ll miss people here in Springfield, but I really do want to hurry up and move so I can be near my sister and nieces. I sure hope I’m able to get a lucky break in music somehow, someway, with or without Tammy’s help.

I’ve got to get a much more positive attitude. I can’t give up my singing even if Tammy continues to think I’m hopeless or if I have a few failures. Being too negative so much is going to get me nowhere. It’s what I’ve always wanted. It’s time to be a doer, not a dreamer. It’s soon or never. I won’t settle for anything else. I love to sing and now have a voice I never thought I’d ever have.

I also really want to improve my piano, guitar and Spanish by studying more and practicing my ass off. No more being so lazy.

Nervous said he’s looking for a portable organ like Andy’s which I love to death, but it may be just too expensive and I surely don’t want to see him get evicted again. I’m dying for one, though.

I was supposed to call yesterday for an appointment today to have gotten my hair evened out but now I’ll have to wait till Tuesday. They’re closed Sundays and Mondays.

Monday night is when Ma calls. Also Monday I’ll have to call La Baron. They sent me a bill for $1,068 and I’m not paying a dime. They never should’ve let me into school without approving my application for financial aid first. I’ll also call the people I filled out the application with. They’re also responsible. She was supposed to have contacted me and it looks like I may have to take them to court and hopefully sue them for the $561 that I paid to get into Mansfield for my manicuring course. They should definitely pay me.

Also Nervous is taking me to New Britain, CT to a service for gay women to meet other gay women. I just hope his car doesn’t break down in the middle of the highway or I’ll die.

Later…

I am still wide awake. I just did some reading and before that, I played my keyboard and guitar.

I ordered Gloria’s two Spanish albums Rio and Otro Vez.

Today, if I don’t sleep all day, I’m gonna do laundry, but if I do I can always do it later on tonight.

I called Fran’s old foster father and left a message for him to call me. I haven’t seen him in ages. Why is it that he only comes to visit once in a lifetime? Last time was when he bought the TV from me.

Rather than go to Johnson’s maybe I should go to McRory’s in the Eastfield Mall across from my mom’s store. It’s bigger, better and much cheaper and they have everything. I’m almost positive I’d find some really nice things there for the kids and some nice things for everyone else.

Sometimes I wonder if I should call about getting my vaginismus cured cuz it would make me happy and maybe it’s just a waste of time being gay, even if it’s not a choice.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 1988 I’m cooking a piece of lamb. Actually, before that, I just walked in. I had been out with Andy.

I slept all day today and never got my laundry done. Never called Channel 57 or mailed this letter I wrote to someone, but Nervous is mailing it. He was over earlier and we had a nice chat.

Before 6:00 Cecelia came over. We had a nice chat too in ASL and I did tell her I was moving. She said hopefully she could come to visit me.

Anna next door woke me up at 2:00 this afternoon to ask me about a phone call she got very early this morning from some girl who knew her name was Anna, and I guess used my name, by asking her if she knew me, but Anna hung up saying, “I don’t know who you are.”

I know nothing about it, I told her.

I spoke to Nervous today who may know of someone to take Sasha. Also, I spoke to Andy who should be calling any second.

Earlier I fell asleep and dreamt that my mother sent me puppies in the mail. Weird, huh?

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 1988 The stupid males in court today want desperately to waste my time and so this case is being brought before a jury of 6 and then possibly to trial. Either way, I’m sure it’ll be dismissed and by the time the final court date comes up I’ll be moved and they can have a default warrant out for me for the rest of my life, cuz what are my chances of being picked up if I were to come to Springfield for a day or two? None. And how many cops know me by face and name? Maybe 3 cops, and it’s very unlikely that we’ll run into each other.

Today I also confronted Pig Corcoran, or whatever the fuck his name really is, with the sexually harassing phone calls I got and asked him if he knew anything about it and he said no and that he wouldn’t do that. Yeah, sure. Quite a coincidence don’t you think? I know it was him or somebody he put up to it.

I called that gay dating service for women, and according to them, their nearest offices are either Framingham, MA or Great Britain, CT. No way to get there by bus or by anyone else. Tammy says they’re a total rip-off. She said she went through a Jewish dating service to find Bill cuz she wanted her children raised as Jews. But to me what you are is what you are, and I don’t believe in that or religion. People are people are people.

Tammy said to place an ad in the personals section of the Advocate but to get a PO box address. I may someday if nothing else works.

Guess what? This will come as a surprise to you as it did to me but I called Maria at work explaining that I knew and realized that I did wrong, and wanted her to understand and to feel free to confront me with any problems rather than to be scared and run away, and that once the problem is discussed, I would never make the same mistake again. I try not to anyway. So she said it was that I was too forward and scared her away and I then explained to her that when you’re alone so much and you get an opportunity to talk, you talk. I said that maybe I threw up my past in her face out of fear and that rather than be too shy I was trying to make friendly conversation for our first visit, and I also didn’t want to seem rude by ignoring her questions. She did seem to understand fully and mentioned my trusting her enough the first time we met to take her home with me and I said that I learned to tell the good ones from the bad ones and told her about Mary D, who attempted to attack me for prank calling her. She said that was awful and seemed to understand why I crawled into this little shell.

The sicko (Mary) came over for her record and started trashing the place before she turned on me, knocked me down, then ran.

I also told her what I heard about Bev and that I heard she wanted Bev, and she denied it saying her lips were sealed and she wouldn’t repeat any of it to Bev. I told this to Andy who got pissed at me fearing there was a good 98% chance that Maria would definitely go to Bev and that Bev would go to Andy all pissed off. I did not realize at the time that what I said could be harmful but to me, it is a test of trust and honesty.

Maria told me that she doesn’t have many friends herself and sometimes needs someone to talk to and would like to go to the movies or the mall and that when I called her at work upset about the barrette she was about to apologize and explain why she couldn’t come over, but I didn’t give her a chance and hung up, assuming she didn’t care, and I explained she was right cuz of past experience.

Andy, however, does believe that she wants Bev and that she put a hickey on Bev’s neck, though Maria denied it, saying she didn’t know Bev well, didn’t see much of her and has only known her for 6 months. Well, time will tell whether she’s a liar or she is honest.

The thing she did that really shocked me the most was give me her phone number. I told her I was so sorry for calling her at work, her place of business and she said not to worry about it at all and that if I had a problem to call her at work or home. She told me she usually gets home after 6 PM on weekdays. I certainly am not going to bug her or burden her in any way but in the long run, I still believe this will never be a sexual relationship and that she is still young and unaware of her sexuality. Bev, boyfriend, or not, she just wants to be strictly friends and that’s ok. Better than nothing.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 1988 I’ve been up all night cuz I was afraid to go to sleep and not hear the alarm in time to go to court today for the little macho bully male pig.

I slept all night yesterday plus all day due to that fucking medication the shrink gave me.

I’m reading a book about people with sexual dysfunctions who go into therapy and use sex surrogates to cure their problems and I have decided to seek help for the problem I have where it’s too painful for a male to penetrate me which I read is called vaginismus caused by an obstruction or the walls of the vagina involuntarily tightening. I believe it would make me happier to solve the problem, and yes, I do sometimes wish I were straight and could marry a great guy and have a baby but it all goes back to my not being attracted to men. Yet I’d probably get an ugly female and I still believe that male or female I’d only get an asshole, and 98% of the males are assholes, so it’s mostly women that have assholes or are going to get them, not just me.

I know they don’t use sex surrogates here in Springfield. Most places don’t cuz they consider it prostitution, although I think in some cases, such as mine, it’s very helpful. I hope they can help me by just talking to me, but if I’m stupid enough to fall for a male, what if they rape me or beat me or steal from me or are like Ron, Nervous or Al? That’s all I get. What if I got another woman like Mary? I’ll never get a woman like Gloria. Never.

But I also decided that today I just might call that dating service for gay women called Woman To Woman. I hope I can afford it and if they give me a decent woman and I lose her or they give me a jerk, I want my money back.

[white--moon]

Ichigo smirks, eyes following that finger. “Since we’ve been sitting in this restaurant. Yeah.” He blinks though and tensing, because he didn’t properly think through this conversation. He’d just pass altogether except it doesn’t seem fair since Shiro’s being so forthcoming. He sighs, pushing tiny pieces of food around on his plate. “It’s not exciting or anything. I have a thing with attachments. I don’t know how else to describe it. I don’t like losing people.” He doesn’t even like thinking about it. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

He huffs, a smirks slipping across his face. “Are you kidding? You’d make his day, and he’d stop trying to set me up with random patients I’ve never met, because apparently after Orihime I need to get out there.” He slides Shiro a sour look for that laugh, but he can’t blame him more than that. “Hmm.”

He’s still throwing him a flat look, but he snorts. “Guess it depends on how much enabling you plan to do.”

He’s assuming Shiro say it that way for his benefit. Because of the question he asked to bring it up and then the sarcastic comment, but he waves that off just in case. “I’d be annoyed with any adult that stifles a child’s ability to question, and then expects them to function in the world.” But he pauses, glances over, and shrugs. “Not just for your situation. I have strong feelings about it in general. I’m glad you didn’t have it bad.” He didn’t even consider the paperwork angle. There’s probably a caseworker somewhere that would be happy to dig it up. He nods. He can’t really imagine how he might’ve felt about a mother that gave him away. Most of what he knows about being a decent person came from his mother.

He perks when that other peel is given over. It’s bitter as hell, but it still tastes good. Kind of like a grapefruit. That answer improves his view of Shiro’s birth mom immensely though he’s not sure why. He just thinks it’d be hard to hate her if he saw Shiro in her. Which he can’t say since he’s still telling Shiro he hates his guts on a weekly basis. “She have other kids?” That statement throws him so far off track, he’s left kind of staring and blinking a little. “How much spying did you have to do to figure that out?” He exhales and brushes that off. “We look more alike in his younger photos, but yeah. Karin took more after his side of the family.”

Oh. Yeah, ok, Ichigo did gloss over something about attachment troubles. He just assumed it was the oposite, though; he thought Ichigo meant he didn't get attached, as in this dating thing was very unlikely to go places. Part of the it'll never work out between them long term theory. He's not sure anyone likes losing people, but he supposes some people are better at moving on than others. He puts on a thoughtful expression, but it's mostly for show. "That doesn't sound very irrational. If anything, it almost makes you sound normal. If I didn't know better, I might be fooled." Ichigo doesn't want to talk about it, and that's fine, but Shiro's still going to give him shit, but kind of gently.

That does not help even out his expression. "He tries settin' you up with random patients? Gross. I'm picturin' a bunch'a old people." That weirdly does make him more interested in talking to Ichigo's dad, but only so he can be recognized as Ichigo's partner and so random people will stop being thrust in Ichigo's direction. Definitely not for any sort of sex and health education.

He meets that flat look with an amused one. "Enabling's literally my job."

There's heat in that statement and it feels like maybe it stems from something that doesn't have anything to do with him at all, which is confirmed when Ichigo follows up about it. He shrugs. "I'm not gonna disagree with that. I don't know if they knew the reason or not. Even if they did, is there a right way to tell a kid he wasn't wanted? What if it had been something worse than that? I mean, she kept me for a couple years, so something made her change her mind. I heard enough... Theories about it from the people around me. I think maybe they were just tryin' to take the power outta all that by saying it didn't matter." If it didn't matter, if the why wasn't important, then the mean things children say didn't sting as much. That's the conclusion he came to eventually, anyway. Regardless, he ended up with a thick skin, to say nothing of his ability to function in the world, as Ichigo put it.

He likes how happy Ichigo gets about the orange peel. It was such a simple thing, but he's getting a lot of gratification out of it. The topic of conversation, however, not as much. He doesn't think about her often. "No, at least not when I met her. It's been a few years." There's enough of a disconnect, it's weird to think he might have siblings or other blood relatives.

The surprised look on Ichigo's face is almost as good as the happy one. It's great fun to catch him off guard. He flashes a grin. "I'd be a great stalker if I wanted to be. Not much though. He owns and runs a clinic. He's easy to find."

[bountycancelled]

FAKE NEWS! I 3. why me.

a/n: fully written chapter, unedited as usual.

seungcheol was confused.

this obviously wasn't the first time he had been trending on twitter, but when it happened, he usually knew why he was trending—or at the very least—had an idea as to why.

and even though it should've been the last thing on his mind at that moment, he was in the middle of practicing the choreography for seventeens fast-approaching comeback, as he stared himself down in the mirror, trying to perfect a move in the chorus, he couldn't seem to shake the bottomless pit in his stomach.

he was snapped out of his daze by the choreographer asking the members to get into formation so that they could practice together.

he took the interruption as a sign to let his suspicion about why he was trending on twitter rest, deciding that he had many, much more important things to worry about.

yn on the other hand, could not bring herself to stop thinking about why she was trending on twitter.

she was currently pacing back and forth, trying to formulate an apology message to seungcheol in her mind.

would hey be too casual? I mean, we haven't had an actual conversation in years, but hello might seem too businessy, and I don't wanna come off as a jerk after all these years.

can I even still call him seungcheol? from what I can remember, he only lets his really close friends call him that, and I guess since we aren't close anymore, I should call him s coups?

"s coups." the stagename felt foreign on her tongue, since she had never considered calling him that up until this point. which was fair, since the last time they talked, he was still just seungcheol. regular, schoolboy choi seungcheol.

yn sighed, grabbing her phone from the random spot she had thrown it at on her bed mere minutes ago, gnawing at her bottom lip as she pressed mingyus contact, waiting on him to answer her.

"hey babe, what's up?" mingyu greeted, a smile clear in his voice.

"you need to stop calling me babe, one of these days a dispatch undercover spy is gonna hear you call me that and then boom, your being exposed on a random wednesday afternoon"

mingyu chuckled slightly, making himself comfortable on his bed, putting his phone on speaker. "I wouldn't mind being in a dating scandal with you sweetie."

yn scoffed, rolling her eyes as she continued. "anyways, I didn't call you for pleasantries mingyu, I need you to send me seungcheols number."

"and why exactly do you want his number, huh? so you can confess your undying love for him before twitter beats you to it?"

yn scowled, desperately wanting to curse him out in the cruellest ways she could, but she decided against it, knowing how sensitive mingyu could be at times. "please mingyu? I just wanna explain this whole shit show before he sees it from people who don't know the full story."

"and what do I get in return?"

yn paused, tapping her chin in mock thought to think of a suitable reward for mingyu.

"a kiss on the cheek?" yn suggested jokingly, not really thinking mingyu would agree.

"... deal. good luck yn." he said, ending the call after they said they're goodbyes, sending her seungcheols number immediately afterwards.

her thumb loomed over the call phone, slightly shaking from the nerves she felt.

after many a deep breaths, just as she was about to tap the screen and talk to seungcheol for the first time in what felt like an eternity; she was interrupted by a knock on the door and the soft voice of her manager speaking from behind it.

"are you ready yn? we need to go in about five minutes."

yn froze in place, suddenly remembering the meeting that she was supposed to be attending today. based on the fuzzy pajama pants and mismatched socks, she was obviously not ready for said meeting.

"just a second!" yn leaped over her bed and to the closet, trying to find a semi-decent outfit to wear, frantically pulling clothes out fo her closet.

after more than the second she had requested, yn was finally ready to go to the meeting. the roads were to bumpy to lean her head against the window, so she opted for the next best thing— her managers shoulder.

"so, since we're heading to the meeting, are you finally going to tell me why its happening?"

he chuckled lightly, already used to yns pestering. "like I said the first time I told you, and as I've been saying every single time you asked me, its a suprise. you'll find out when you get there."

yn finally nodded in defeat, realising that it probably wouldn't even be that interesting in any case, because meetings; no matter the occupation, never were.

once the had made it to the sbs building, they made a b-line to the elevator, and finally making it to the boardroom in which the meeting would be taking place.

after one last check up on her hair and jacket, yn opened the door, praying that she hadn't kept the people present waiting for too long.

as her manager shut the door behind him, yn turned around, making eye contact with the one person she really didn't want to see at the moment.

seungcheol smiled politely and yn mirrored his expression, bowing slightly and greeting everyone in the room.

the meeting was about to start but yn could only think one comprehensive thought in her brain at that moment.

why me universe? why me.

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[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (part 6 of ?)

gif by my queen @michaelgreys, i'm basically her fanblog now but im not mad about it :) i mean just look at him!!1! i almost fainted

a/n: first of all, if you stuck around to this point, tysm for reading!!! this has been one of the most amazing fics ive ever been a part of and it's all thanks to the gorgeous @stxdyblr-2k, who generously took control of the next few parts. her brain is beautiful and we all owe her flowers or something. when i read what she sent me i couldn't bring myself to change much except for some small edits, so pls give her lots of love if you like it!!!! i'm still working on requests as well :)

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four five | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland, @lilymurphy03

prompt: nothing this good can last forever. john doesn't know how to feel, and neither do you.

warnings: nsfw! a teensy bit of smut, angsty as fuck prepare yourselves accordingly, a lil fluff if u squint, yeah this fucked me up

Obviously, it wasn't the last time.

Over the coming months you had many last times; his mouth pressed against your neck said as much. As his responsibility at work increased, you'd find yourself heading to his office after your lectures and night classes more often, perched on his lap, smoking, while he finished up his numbers under your critical gaze.

Thomas was more than aware; his snarky comments made it obvious he had his ways of monitoring your actions. You'd seen the dark car lurking outside your rallies and lectures, and no matter how you'd try to throw him off, not even telling Ada where you were going and even, in a moment of desperation, through your neighbours back window, somehow, his silent shadow was still looming. He was practically begging you to make a mistake, to give everyone an easy out. You just couldn't give him the satisfaction. You knew Tommy saw the world as a chess board, always several moves ahead of his opponent. Even when you played him in chess club all those years ago, you could outflank him if you thought on your feet and kept him thinking he was winning until you obliterated him in the end game. It was brutal, sure. But as he told you, there were bigger games at play. You had your own. Thomas could read your mail, intercept your phone calls and have you followed, but he couldn't hear what you said out of earshot. Your lot could smell an interceptor in your ranks, so spying at that close of a proximity was out of the question.

That's why he'd decided to let you have John. You knew his silent approval and his constant management of the narrative meant he saw a tactical gain. There was only so much information he could get from Ada, but John? He just had to agitate him in the right way and all your secrets would come tumbling out. It was difficult hiding your world from John; of what he knew of, he was supportive, quizzing you over current affairs and political discourse, listening intently. Yet, you had to watch your mouth. You had to keep a barrier up and you knew John sensed the distance. Fundamentally, there was nothing either of you could do.

So here you were, in a comfortable limbo. Your days were filled with work, evenings were for lectures and reading groups at the city's university, Ada and you often stopped for a drink or three; you'd go by your flat to freshen up, and then to John's office. Sometimes, you wouldn't visit for a week or so when the guilt sent you over the edge, it was draining to be living so many lives and knowing you were betraying the person you loved most on earth. Ada was oblivious, taking you on her nightly adventures filled with men, dancing and waiting while she was busy kissing in dark corners. Sometimes a young blinder would ask if you wanted to be walked home. The first occurrence you thought was sweet, but as the nights it occurred coincided with nights John seemed extra pent up, you'd decided to ask. The boy, who couldn't be older than twelve but who you knew was trained in using firearms and had a revolver pinned to his hip and a razor in his cap, looked confused.

"Mate, it's not a tough question. Why do you come and ask?"

"There's a phone call." He shrugs, "Isaiah or Michael tells us to go and get you."

Isaiah and Michael were somewhat aware? Fucking hell. Your fling was basically a military campaign at this point, so many of your friends were complicit. The little lads who ran as messengers around Birmingham were complicit. You had to just end it.

But when you sat on his thigh, his chin hooked over your shoulder, it felt so worth it. He never turned you away when you came crawling back. He never mentioned it until after you were finished, hooked under his arm.

"Fucking missed you, gorgeous."

Sometimes he'd remind you not to be a stranger with a wink, but you could tell it was tearing him apart too. He never once came to you. That's how he could justify it in his mind; obviously, the bare minimum was not having sex with his sister's best friend, but in failing that, waiting for you to initiate it was somewhat better. He barely talked to Ada now, citing work as an excuse, but truly the guilt sickened him. He couldn't believe he was prepared to continuously hurt his little sister and betray her. But every time you turned up at his door, he couldn't find it in himself to turn you away. In his mind, every single time you came to visit him was the last time he'd let it happen, yet he was always waiting for you to come back, his blind closed to signal he was prepared. He never would call, it had to be your choice.

You'd been off and on for over five months now. It was so difficult to hide in plain sight, but you just couldn't stop yourself. Neither of you purposefully meant for this to be happen but fuck, was it fun.

For your birthday he'd gifted you a fur coat from the same shop his sister, aunt and the fashionable crowd of Birmingham had purchased theirs. He joked that you looked like a "proper razor chaser", kissing you when you pouted at his teasing, begging you to wear only the coat when you fucked him next. It was a practice for blinders to buy a coat for their wives and girlfriends as a status symbol. You were neither, but John claimed that being his "favourite lass" also counted.

John was a laugh, but you knew at any time he could close his door to you. Until he decided he couldn't be bothered with you, you weren't going to get caught. You just had to be careful until he got bored.

***

You did end up putting a foot wrong. It was a Thursday night; you were sitting on the edge of John's desk while he was ridding you of your blouse. It was past midnight, Birmingham was asleep. You almost didn't bother coming out tonight, but you knew John had lost a deal and you wanted to be there for him. Your skirt and stockings were strewn across the desk with his shirt, vest and waistcoat, muddled into the files and papers which were once neatly stacked.

His fingers were pumping in and out of you, his mouth lapping at your breast, your head tipped back in euphoria, groaning. The stress made him more affectionate and tender with you, and it was nights like these that made you wonder. Wonder if this could ever be something more, something real.

John's body suddenly pulled away from yours, quickly turning the light off.

"John, what-" You were cut off by John’s hand over your mouth, muffling your words.

"Shut up and get behind the desk." He hissed. "Someone's coming upstairs."

You quickly grabbed your clothes from the shiny oak surface and crouched, hiding yourself from view, quickly making yourself decent. You weren't going to get shot through the head with your tits out. You listened to the stairs creek, and it sounded like a group. You two were easily outnumbered. They were talking, but the thick panels of wood muffled their voices.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, the cracks in the door giving the room a dulled glow, you could make out the figure of John. He was free of his shirt, toned body on display, standing with his back flat to the wall, revolver produced from a discreet notch in the door frame, gaze fixed on where they'd enter. He was tense, ready. The door was unlocked from the outside, the door handle twisting.

John's lip shifted in confusion yet still he kept his trigger finger ready, not a single shake from your general.

The light flicked on and a shriek rang out. It was blinding, and you stood up slightly dazed. Finn was in the doorway, John next to him clutching his chest, panting and lowering the gun.

"Jesus Christ, Finn, can't you knock like a normal person? Scared the shit out of us." John bellowed, shaking as the adrenaline coursed through his body, resting his hands on the edge of the desk as he regained his breath.

"You're the one who pointed a gun at me! I didn't even know you were in 'ere!" Finn yelped.

The commotion had attracted the attention of Ada and Isaiah, who had come running and stopped in their tracks upon seeing you standing behind John's desk in the middle of the night. They weren't stupid. John was topless, your clothes obviously rumpled, both with matching tousled hair and practically stinking of guilt. You'd been caught red handed. Ada's eyes flicked between both you and John, and you could practically see the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in her mind, all the moments she found questionable since you'd returned suddenly making sense, realising she had been deceived by the two people who she was meant to trust most in life. Finn looked absolutely crushed, he'd never been able to conceal his emotions as well as his older brothers and sister, linking his fingers through Ada's, squeezing her hand.

"I forgot to drop this off earlier." Finn stated, holding up a money box, "Ada had keys so we thought we'd sneak in so I wouldn't get done by Tommy. We did call round yours, Y/N. We thought you were in bed."

"I'm sorry." You said. It was not enough but you just didn't know what else to say. You couldn't make it right, you'd really fucked up this time. Tears pricked at your eyes, as Ada examined you in silence.

John stepped in front of you defensively. "Look, Ada-"

"How long has this been going on?" She asked, her voice shaking with rage. You and John exchanged a glance. "I said, how fucking long?"

"Five months, six in a fortnight." He answered.

Isaiah whistled lowly. "That's fucked. I thought it was only a few times, that it'd finished."

"Never really over when it's John is it." Finn interjects, you glance to him, were you just one in a long string? You shouldn't be surprised but it was easy to pretend he may actually care about you.

"You've been fucking around for six months behind my back?" Ada yelped, Finn trying to comfort her but she pulled away from him. "And you fucking knew Iz."

"I'd expect this from you, yeah? Wouldn't put anything past you these days.." she sneered at John, "But you? You?! You're meant to be my best mate, but here you are sneaking about fucking my brother?"

"Ada-" you began, eyes welling with tears.

"I thought I could trust you. You're just another fucking razor chaser, aren't you?" She spits. "That's why you came back."

"No it wasn't, Ada-"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but this time John was on the receiving end. "You bought her that fucking coat ,didn't you? The fur one. You did! Fuck's sake!" Her fists were clenched, shoulders squared. For the first time in your life, you understood why crowds parted for Ada Shelby. Understood all the free drinks and cab rides, the nervous serving staff declaring your meal on the house (always acknowledged by Ada with a hefty tip), understood why the men of Birmingham didn't last long with her.

"Did it feel good to swan about town in that fucking coat, while acting as though you cared about me? It's so fucking embarrassing. All trussed up because my knobhead big brother makes you feel special? Thanks for rubbing it in my face."

"Ada, I love you. I never meant to hurt you, I got caught up and that's on me. It's my fault."

"You're not acting like you love me. This isn’t what love is, Y/N." She retorted.

You couldn’t do anything but nod. She was right.

John opened his mouth to speak, Ada silencing him, a scowl darkening her features.

"I don't care what you have to say. Any of you. Who else knows?"

"Thomas, Michael, Arthur-" John listed off slowly, each name prompting Ada to break down a little bit more in front of you.

"I didn't know Arthur knew." You said pointedly, John sending you an exasperated glance. He was planning on dealing with that later, but right now was about his sister. Fuck him if he thought you were going to stick around much longer. You didn't want to hear him justify everyone else knowing about your fling with your best friend being left completely in the dark.

"That all you have to say for yourself?" Ada snaps at you.

"I have fucking no defense, do I Ada? I should've walked away." You pushed your hair back, frustrated at yourself, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You begged yourself not to cry. Tears wouldn't help anything.

"Why didn't you?"

You didn't know. Your silence only riled her up.

"Why didn't you fucking walk away?" Ada yelled, slamming her hands on the desk.

You felt hot tears run down your face, quickly moving your hands to dab at your tears.

"Don't you dare fucking cry. After all you've done, you don't get to cry in front of me." Ada growled at you, John going to shush her, obviously wanting to comfort you. "You can all fuck off. You've all lied to me and gone behind my back. Fuck’s sake, you could've just told me. You could've just told me."

"We didn't want to hurt you." John said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder but she flinches away.

"This hurts so much more. You get that you all lying to me is so much worse, don't you?"

"We weren't thinking."

"You really fucking weren't." Ada laughs bitterly, shaking her head, blinking away tears. "Fuck you lot."

She stormed out, tailed by Finn, begging her to slow down and talk to him, protesting his innocence in the situation. Isaiah hesitated in the doorway, his eyes flickering between you and John.

"I had no idea you two've been at it for so long."

"Iz, fuck off yeah? I've had enough today." John shot back, sliding across the desk towards you. "You alright, lass?"

"We're done here, John."

He slid off the table, his hand cupping your face, "Hey, gorgeous, I get it but don't go breaking my heart tonight. Can we just leave this for tomorrow? Sleep on it."

The idea of getting any sleep at all tonight was laughable, you'd be up all night replaying these moments and torturing yourself. Tonight couldn't get any worse so you had to finally end it. Now was the right time.

"John, it should've never happened."

"But it did."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's over."

"Y/N. You know for me it was never just about-"

"You're making it difficult. Stop making it difficult. Whatever you say isn't going to change that right now we have to do the right thing."

"I know you're right, but I don't want to let go. Is it so wrong to want you? I adore you, you know that."

You wouldn't meet his eyes. Sighing, John pressed his forehead to the side of your head, chin brushing your shoulder, eyes closing. He was begging you to stay with him. There had to be a solution, you'd figure it out together. His voice was cracking, eyes glassy. He looked so much younger when he was pleading. The tall bloke who terrorised the Midlands with his razor rimmed cap, a revolver in his hand, and a ruthless trigger finger had vanished. You wanted to stay, burning to curl up with him and for him to kiss it better.

"I should go." You told him. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, letting out a shaky sigh before pulling away, nodding.

"I'd drive you home but obviously-"

"Obviously."

John suddenly turned from you, eyes narrowing at Isaiah who was still hovering at the door. "Thought I told you to fuck off. Make yourself useful and get Y/N home safely." His tone was ice cold once again.

Isaiah nodded, offering his arm to you. You reached the door and instinctively looked back at John. His eyes met yours, staring at you from his desk, just as you knew he would. He prepared himself to watch you leave every night, but this time was different. That was it with you two.

Isaiah strode down the street with you in silence. You were tucked into his side as was customary with the upcoming blinders who were particularly ambitious, but there was no relaxed chat.

"Isaiah. What’re you thinking?" You asked, voice tinged with nervousness.

He sighed, running his free hand across his jaw, "That was intense in there."

"Just how he is." You shrugged.

"Does he love you or sommet?"

"Fuck knows… does it matter?"

"Of course it does. Do you love him?"

"Drop it. None of that matters, it shouldn't have happened in the first place so it can’t," You snapped, the anger at the situation you'd created suddenly overwhelming.

Isaiah whistled, raising his brow at your obvious turmoil. "You're in fucking deeper than you want to admit."

He walked you up your path, watching you turn the key to the side door leading to your bedsit. You paused, turning to him.

"Iz… I don't know what to do next."

It was so dark, you could see his face only by the lit cigarette burning to embers between his fingers. He inhaled deeply, pausing before delivering his carefully laid out plan of avoidance. Obviously the event of him crossing the Shelbys and losing their good graces weighed heavily on his mind. You nodded, listening intently, noting his ideas of relocation but he explained they were a final resort. The best thing to do was try to regain their trust; in the long run, he had calculated, it was the only option that didn't result in your life being haunted by the Shelbys. Even if they left you alone, their enemies would make a point to go after you, seeing you as an easy target. The other option was to leave the country.

"Good luck, Y/N. I mean it." He muttered as you turned the handle to the temporary safety of your home. You nodded, offering you cheek for the polite good night kiss you'd become accustomed to. He rolled his eyes and obliged, pressing an affectionate kiss to your cheek and ruffling your hair. "I'm serious. Watch your back."

***

John broke down when he finally heard the lock click shut. His eyes had been prickling with boiling tears, his jaw tensed to hold them back. He yelled out in anger, flipping his desk with force, a loud crash as the wood splintered against the stone flooring, glass shattering from the photo frames. His hands went to his head, unable to stop the gasping breaths escaping from his trembling lips, his face reddening.

"Fuck’s sake." He growled. He'd fucked everything up. He had nothing, just as he'd told you the first night you returned. The consequence was no surprise, he'd anticipated the fall out for a while, but he couldn't resist you. He was completely guilty and had no defense; his only justification being that you made him think with his cock, not his brain.

Fuck’s sake. Polly was going to murder him. She'd always had a soft spot for Ada, as the only girl in the family, and was no stranger to lecturing him over his flirtatious behaviour around Ada's friends. She'd murder him. He had a half mind to never go home. He rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. Polly had no use for tears. That's what she'd tell him when he was a boy coming home with a skinned knee. This was far worse.

He was also sure that he was a worse brother than Tommy, perhaps the worst in the world. His baby sister, who he'd helped to toddle, carry proudly on his shoulders after school and race with her on his back through the fields on the outskirts of Small Heath, had walked in on him obviously in the midst of fucking her best mate. If he had swallowed his pride and actually talked to her, he wouldn't be in this mess. He could've told her that things changed, that for the same reasons Ada loved Y/N he had fallen for her, that he was truly sorry but she had to know before it got too far and someone got hurt. He couldn't go back.

He should've never approached you that night.

He should never approach you again.

He looked over the mess of his office, the splintered wood and shards of glass, a confetti of paperwork. Now nothing mattered. None of this mattered. He'd lost everything and he had only himself to blame.

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

In your latest post, you said that Dumbledore MEANT to put Harry in a abusive household. That, or when he found out he did nothing to stop it. Why is that?

You’re going to get a lot of people angry with me. Well, I suppose they’re already angry. Somewhere out there, on the wider internet.

Right, anyway, the evidence of Harry’s abuse is so overwhelming that it seems improbable to me that Dumbledore wasn’t aware of what was happening. More, every interaction he has with not only Harry, but characters in similar circumstances, lends me to believe that in the event that Dumbledore does know he’d take no action.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone: Scene 1

We start out the entire Harry Potter series with Minerva and Dumbledore waiting in the early dawn for Hagrid’s arrival and to place Harry with the Dursleys. Minerva immediately announces her discomfort with this, 

She specifically says the following:

"You don't mean — you can't mean the people who live here? Dumbledore, you can't. You couldn't find two people who are less like us."

Lily Evans’ relatives are infamous enough such that Minerva McGonagall, who is presumably not as close as her like aged peers (i.e. Sirius, Remus, and Peter) knows about them.

Granted, some of this is anti-muggle sentiment. Minerva isn’t sure that suburban muggles raising a magical child like Harry Potter is a good idea. Nevertheless, she has deep misgivings, and relays them to Dumbledore.

We know from further evidence that Dumbledore is perfectly aware of what Petunia and Vernon are like as well. He gives Harry to the Dursleys anyway.

Dumbledore, for his own reasons, chooses not to listen.

Dumbledore’s Letter to Petunia

Dumbledore writes a letter to Petunia, knowing it is highly necessary, as he gives Harry to the family. The letter is... vaguely threatening but in a very polite Dumbledore way. It pretty much implies “Take Harry, or else, also be nice to your dead sister.”

The point is, Dumbledore is aware that this letter is highly necessary. And then... other things happen.

Dumbledore Sends Hagrid

Dumbledore sends Hagrid to pick Harry up.

Ordinarily, in such circumstances, Minerva is sent to introduce muggleborn children to the Wizarding World. “Perhaps she was busy,” you say, too busy for Harry Potter? Wizard Jesus and the child of perhaps her favorite students who she openly favors throughout the series?

“Perhaps Dumbledore was being nice to Hagrid, and he had an errand to do anyway,” well, it’s all well and good to be nice to Hagrid, but is he really the best guy to introduce anybody to the Wizarding World?

This is Hagrid, the likelihood of him having taken Harry to an exotic pet shop where Harry then gets eaten by the Chupacabra is 95%. The 5% where it didn’t happen is because Hagrid went to the pet shop alone and some, distant, rational part of his brain told him that Harry would want the pretty owl vs. the one-eyed blood sucking rat demon in the cage next to her.

You don’t send Hagrid if you want a child returned to you with all its limbs intact.

So why do you send Hagrid?

When you want someone who’s so painfully oblivious, loyal, and stupid that they could stare a hellscape in the face and wouldn’t even notice.

Hagrid gets a firsthand view of Harry’s living conditions. He learns that Harry’s relatives have been actively blocking Harry’s letters, that they have run across the country to avoid them. He sees the state of Harry’s clothing in comparison to Dudley, how thin Harry is in comparison to Dudley, and the way the family interacts with each other.

Harry’s child abuse is staring Hagrid right in the face.

Minerva would demand that Harry be placed somewhere else, they can find some other means of protecting him.

What does Hagrid do?

He gives Dudley a pig’s tail illegally and proceeds to tell Harry that Dumbledore is the greatest man who ever lived. 

Other Evidence Comes to Light

Other characters start getting pretty big warning signs that all’s not right at the Potters.

Ron and Hermione know the situation is “bad” and that Harry’s relatives “hate magic”. They’re also kids and don’t really understand what this means, the idea of being abused and hated by your guardians is unthinkable to them and Harry doesn’t come out and just say it.

That said, they’ve seen enough that they drop hints to those around them. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are told about the bars on Harry’s window. Ron was so concerned about Harry in the summer after first year that he steals his father’s car with Fred and George to go pick him up. That is not normal behavior, that is deep concern for your friend.

Despite all of this... nothing happens.

Hermione spends far more time at the Weasleys then Harry ever does. Every summer, he returns to Privet Drive, and it’s likely if Arthur and Molly did have concerns Dumbledore told them off.

Arabella Figg

Arabella has been keeping an eye on Harry for years. She’s noted some very disturbing trends and been witness to years of the Dursleys interacting with Harry Potter.

She passes this information on to Dumbledore.

He knows how bad it is.

Harry Potter

Harry tells Dumbledore he does not wish to remain at the Dursleys, he notes that they don’t like him and he doesn’t like them. Now, he tries to downplay it, but this is a child saying some pretty disturbing things. You don’t brush this off.

Dumbledore does.

Dumbledore Visits the Dursleys

In book 6, Dumbledore visits the Dursleys and sees, in person, how bad it is. However, he shows no surprise, only vague disappointment in Petunia. Tsk, tsk, Petunia, I thought you were better than this.

He offers a few threats and then he and Harry go on their merry way.

Severus Snape

Snape is Dumbledore’s spy who reads Harry’s mind for half a year. Granted, Snape is a bastard who loathes Harry Potter, but he sees evidence of the Dursleys abuse of Harry.

We know, from what he relays to Dumbledore later, that he had at least some concern for Harry and was very disturbed by Dumbledore’s plan to murder him in cold blood due to the horcrux.

I think it’s very likely Severus Snape knew and told Dumbledore that Harry was being abused. I’m sure Albus’ response was, “Bitch, I know, would you like a lemon drop?”

Point being, there is no conceivable way that Albus Dumbledore, even if he was the world’s dumbest man, didn’t know exactly how bad it was. He let’s it happen anyway.

But What About the Blood Wards?

Dumbledore eventually tells Harry that the reason he can’t run away from Privet Drive is because of the blood wards created by his mother. They can only be applied if he lives with blood relatives and protect the Dursley house as long as Harry considers it home.

Now, this is a bit suspect given that Harry really considers Hogwarts his home, Privet Drive is just that hell hole he has to go back to every summer. Even the Burrow is more his home than Privet Drive so... That doesn’t sound right.

More, though, there are other means of protection.

There’s the Fidelius which Dumbledore casts on Sirius’ house in book 5. Given that, Harry really could have lived with Sirius (well, Sirius is not in a good place to have a kid around and that would be a disaster and a half). Point being, Harry could be raised elsewhere and there are wards that could protect him.

More, Voldemort and the Death Eaters are out of commission for thirteen years. Indeed, we see Dumbledore up Harry’s security detail by secretly assigning the Order to tail him after fourth year.

So, for a very long time, it’s not about Harry’s protection and when it does become that we see Dumbledore make significant changes.

So, what could it be?

Well, let’s look at Dumbledore’s other actions. Dumbledore prevents Harry from becoming prefect because “he thought it would go to his head”. Which, Harry should absolutely not be made prefect at all, and Ron’s a laughable candidate too but...

To me that’s very telling.

I hate to say this, but this is Dumbledore, but I think he has a very similar reasoning behind Harry going to the Dursleys.

He doesn’t want Harry to be corrupted by the Boy Who Lived persona. He wants him in a certain state of mind when he enters into the wizarding world and... Frankly, he wants him vulnerable. Dumbledore, in time, will need to either murder this boy or have him kill himself. If Harry has a halfway decent guardian, that task becomes a hell of a lot harder.

Harry has to love the wizarding world so much, trust Dumbledore so much, that these things are worth dying for.

You Mentioned Something About Dumbledore’s Other Actions?

Dumbledore has no sympathy for victims of child abuse.

Tom Riddle, an impoverished orphan loathed by those in his orphanage, he thinks is the very devil and sends him back into the Blitz with a smile and a wave. Enjoy the bombs, Tom, hope you die.

Severus Snape, the half blood child of an abusive muggle father and absentee mother, who is nearly murdered by Sirius Black via Remus Lupin, is told to shut the fuck up and sit down before he ruins the lives of his betters.

Dumbledore has a very bad track record with this and, well, Harry Potter is not an exception.

To be fair, I think the wizarding world has not concept of CPS or even child abuse. There’s no hint of a foster system, you go to the closest relative of the godparents. So, I think to them, you’re stuck with whoever you’re stuck with and if your uncle rapes you then it sucks to be you.