#i wrote 4am but it’s 4pm

[theunstuffedpepper]

I realized that I’ve never really documented my L&D experience with any of my boys. Memory fades, but anyone who has gone through it knows that there are some moments and aspects of labor and delivery that you know will stay fresh in your mind for a long, long time.

This will probably get lengthy - fair warning.

For a bit of background, my first and second experiences with labor and delivery were complete opposites in everything except arrival time; both boys arrived in week 38 (38+3 and 38+4, to be specific).

My first involved an induction due to preeclampsia concerns. I was working remotely and got a call from my doctor on Wednesday - I was 38+0 and they told me that due to the protein levels in my urine from my 37-week appointment, they wanted to induce me. That same day. After a bit of freaking out and calling B, we packed up and headed to the hospital. Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday were spent passing the time, letting things... ripen. My body was NOT ready. By Saturday, though, I was ready for pitocin. I labored for about 6 hours and was still only at 2cm, so I requested an epidural. An hour after the epidural, my doctor came in to tell me that if things hadn't progressed any further, I'd be getting a C-section. She checked me and I was fully dilated +2. Thank god for that epidural. One more hour of pushing and he arrived. The whole experience was off, though. It wasn't a great labor and delivery experience for me, though I was very grateful because it could have been much worse and much harder, but it was only the start of a very, very difficult year of my life. PPD is no joke.

My second was quite the opposite. Again, I was working remotely at home, and I wrote an email to my boss the morning I started going into labor to tell him I thought I'd best hang up my hat. We called my parents to come watch Holden. They arrived to our house by 1pm, we got to the hospital at 2pm, and the baby was born at 4pm. It was wickedly painful - my water broke on the way to the hospital - and to this day, I've never experienced physical pain like that in my life. It progressed FAST and furious and my body told me when it was time to push, even before the doctors did. Two pushes and he was here.

I guess that brings me to my third and final labor/delivery experience. You may already know that we had a false alarm and spent the day at the hospital two days before the baby was actually born, frustratingly being sent home at the end of that day because I was still only 3cm dilated. That was Wednesday. Friday morning, my contractions woke me up at 4am and I knew in my gut that it was Actually Time. I woke B up, we woke up my parents who were already staying at our place that night, and we left. The hour-long drive to the hospital was stressful but we made it. We were admitted at 6am. After vomiting once and laboring for much longer than I wanted without any pain management, I was finally given the epidural around - what was it, 7cm? I think so. It was only about 75% effective, but it was certainly enough to take the edge off and it was a welcome relief. My labors move fast, apparently. The L&D nurse was so incredibly kind and encouraging - telling me I was doing amazing, that my pain tolerance is incredibly high, and that I was cranking out those contractions. When I was fully dilated, the midwife (who also saw me for my false alarm and who I had become very fond of by that point) told me we were ready to go. Let's push this baby out. Four pushes and there he was. He had arrived at 39+2. He looks just like Holden did as a newborn. He's healthy and happy and it's been absolute smooth sailing as far as his health goes, thank goodness. That's all I wanted.

So, with that, the family is feeling very complete. It was a scary thought, but now it's mostly just a welcome one. I won't have to go through the pain, anxiety, and trauma of another pregnancy, labor, and delivery again. That part of the journey is thankfully in the rear view. There was a time when I thought I wouldn't have kids - at that time, I never would have believed you if you told me I'd end up having three. Now, though, I can't imagine not having done it. Life has a way of doing that, I suppose.

[catherinekal]

Look at this note my boss wrote down. Blocked out any names but my own but like, I work until 4pm today.

So I'm saying no. Ignoring it. Sorry SD but uhhh I already did my 4am this week and the opener is not doing well health wise because he works at this company and got his vacation days fucked over by this place to.

Remember people. Especially younger people in shit jobs like retail. Don't sacrifice your physical and mental health to make up for their fuckups. I'll feel no guilt not showing up before my scheduled actual shift of 8am- 4pm, nor should I. This isn't some small shop. It's a big retail chain. Hire more help or get fucked when what little help you have needs time off to recover.

Also this SD used my dead name before and misgendered me before so she can fuck off.

[noa-ciharu]

10. How do you decide what to write?

21. If you wrote a “missing scene” in [Liberation😼], what would it be?

(yes, i am intentional choosing the latter one---)

Awww, the time I was insane enough to write a 50k pwp 😂♥️🐱

10. How do you decide what to write?

Honestly it's all about the idea and how much it hypes me at the moment. I'm very spontaneous person and don't stick to some schedule or a plan. Like for example two weeks ago I was watching gameplay of some chilla's art games and atmosphere alone inspired me to write psychological horror post X fic. Then this week it crossed my mind how creepy, mentally broken and yandereish Sakurazukamori Subaru would be after few years have passed and proceeded to write 13k about that 😂 so no schedule whatsoever, just vibes

21. If you wrote a missing scene in liberation (kinky petplay trc fuukam fic) what would it be?

Hmm probably humorous scene morning after. Something something Kamui wakes up at 13pm cuz he and Fuuma were fucking till idk 4am and then he hisses why Fuuma hasn't woken him up cuz now they're 2 hours late to meeting up with Subaru. Fuuma said he didn't give a fuck and Kamui almost kills him but then Fuuma drops reminder of how he acted night before and Kamui instead wants to kill himself. Ofc Subaru knows what's the deal when he noticed Fuuma and Kamui are late. Some time later (read: 4pm) they finally meet with Subaru but then Kamui remembers that Subaru knows he and Fuuma are fucking and can't look his brother in the eye. Fuuma drops another innuendo how his brother was a pleasure to have and both twins blush so hard they almost pass out.

When Subaru is not looking Fuuma grops Kamui in public and he starts hissing. Subaru notices him hissing and innocently remarks how Kamui resembles a cat when doing so. Unbeknownst to him that triggered way too many kinky remindes from last night for Kamui to function properly. He trips over own foot and falls down. Rest of hanging out is spent with Kamui blushing and not being able to look neither Subaru nor Fuuma in the eye

[chronicallywasting]

I had this weird ass dream last night that started off as monster high and it was like a new plot sorta like scarrier reef except i was in it for some reason (so basically there was like this plug thing that held this giant octopus thing but it wasnt the kraken and draculara pulled the plug and then got sucked in and then everyone went back and stayed with lagoonas dad again but it was only him and i kept thinking that he was a dilf and then the octopus came up and we talked with it or something)

and then it cut to some new bursona named caloribur and he was like a vampire but he was real and he kidnapped people to write 8 pages of story by 4am and 4pm (4 pages at each goal) and also he "hard sucked" blood at 12am for some reason. And if you cant tell where im going with this i was the one he took and for some reason he liked me "more than the others" and i feel like he was just to tired to enforce any of the specific rules on me so i only wrote 4 pages and he didnt care and then i woke up. Also periodically there was a thirst trap but i REFUSE to elaborate on that one

[lovedeathalice]

Clipped Wings PSA😯

I'm changing many aspects of what little plot exists entirely. I initially wrote CW in the heat of the moment just because & never planned to write it ever again, but now that I'm actually gonna write a full fic a lot must be changed. I will keep you guys updated. 💯👍🏼

Most key change: 》Part where it says your family "sold" you –> completely removed.

More will be changed, I'll also edit the Prologue itself later on but yeah for now ch.1 is on the way.

Also pls be easy on me guys I'm moving to a completely different country soon with a 12 hour difference (e.g. 4pm EST here, 4am there) & it's hot as fuck there so the hot weather will make my writing motivation plummet🙏🏼 Just letting you guys know in advance.

[libra-stellium]

Tracking my Mars transits!

Notes are from Planets in Transit by Robert Hand.

Mars square Jupiter (Mar 31 - Apr 7)

Time of very successful and energetic activity

Low key disappointed by this bc I thought I would get a lot more done but that saturn trine mars transit had me deadddd. I still ended up doing more than usual like going to happy hour!

Keep close track of what you are doing

Real! bc why did my supervisor call me on the phone to ask me what I was working on lmao makes sense bc my jupiter is in my 10H.

You may be infected with an unjustified optimism that anything you do today "will turn to gold" but it will happen through intelligent planning and foresight

The day I went to happy hour (4/5) I told my friend I was good for 4pm bc I could just clock out when I got there bc i had no assignments and tell me why I'm getting ready and I get an email at 2pm like can you edit this brief? omgggg and I texted my friend "I've done more in less time it's whatever" like girl as if this isn't serious work and it went great and I was on time to happy hour! Things keep working out so I will keep acting accordingly lmao

Do not overextend yourself, if you go beyond your normal limits the time will come when you have to pay for this

Thissssssss fml bc at happy hour I had a mango mojito and it was good but too sweet so then I got the espresso martini flight and it was sooo cute and soooo yummy! Except....I barely ate that day and the food at the restaurant was meh so we just shared buffalo chicken dip and when I got home at like 8pm I felt fine and thennnn i could NOT go to sleep bc 3 espresso martinis!! So i had a dance party in my apt to burn off energy and all of a sudden it was 3am and I go to bed and i feel SICK to my fucking stomach I was so bloated I felt lightheaded I got up and not even alka seltzer could save me omg I started doing high knees at 4am bc in my head moving like that would move my intestines lol I went to sleep at 4:30 and then the whole next day I felt sooooo bad but I blamed the eclipse energy lmfaooo (narrator: she did that shit to herself!!")

Jupiter rules your desire to include more of the universe in your own experiences

I was seeing 333 everywhere including on the bar code of a cookie I was eating lol

Mars trine Mars (Apr 4 - Apr 11)

Time of vigorous self assertion, make it clear you are willing to work for what you want

I actually had assignments I liked at work and I wrote a motion from scratch for an attorney and he wanted me to add something in there and I was like the rule doesn't include that tho... so I didn't put it and he added it himself after I turned in my draft and when he sent it to the director for signature the director deleted it LMFAO i was on cloud 9 for dayssss

Energy level is high, physical labor releases it more effectively

Dance parties were my go to! I thought I might tackle my laundry but nope

Mars is an ego-oriented planet and you'll be strongly motivated toward tasks that bring you credit, might be better to work alone

yes! all the assignments I was doing at work were not group assignments and the other attorneys were like "this is so helpful!" My head was getting so big lmao

Greater effectiveness when resuming unfinished projects

One of my assignments was research and I realized I actually did it Aug 2023 and they were asking me the same question lol but then we expanded it and found something we didn't last year!

If you have been trying to do something but have lacked the right opportunity this transit should get it moving, greater self confidence, pushing your own interests is more successful

I had a meeting with my mentor on 4/11 and I told her to put me in contact with someone she knows who works in immigration so I could volunteer bc I'm trying to get experience! But then it was weird bc the person was like okay let's meet at your next mentor meeting.....June 14 like girl why are we waiting so long?? lmao maybe for the best who knows!

[ourdreamsareneon]

I got home at 4pm after puking my guts out at work. chugged a gatorade then passed out until 1am. woke up and wrote 2k words for a fic on my notes app. it's now 4am and I have to get up for work at 7am because I have a workshop at 9am and I think this shows the problem with capitalism. don't know how but some rich white guys are to blame I know it.

[theeuglyspud]

please enjoy this song that i wrote the lyrics for at around 4pm yesterday, and finished making the video at around 4am lol.

i should just sleep

i'm tired of the negative thoughts,

attacking me

feeling down and lost, i should just sleep

i should just sleep, i should just sleep

nobody wants me, everyone hates me

i know it's a mood but, it's so amazing

how i can't tell myself it isn't true

so i have an idea of what i could do

CHORUS x2

i should just sleep

(i started fleshing out the song around 1 and made the art and THEN the video btw)

[samiestudies]

Day 1/100

Oct 02 '23

Went to work 4am-12pm

Bujo planned my day and did my goals make food meal plan grocery shop

Wrote out my schedule for tomorrow

Therapy 4pm-7pm

Went to the bank

Overall, it was a good day to start. I was a bit stressed with work, but I'm trying to be hopeful for the next few weeks, hoping to bujo more and plan a bit better..

♡ went to a Cafe after work and took care of my plants when I got home :)

[chelleztjs18]

Hello you mrs. honey nut cheerio lady robin hood who likes christmas but is allergic to the pine tree lefty eyebag 😌

I fell asleep but then woke up, saw your answers and fell back asleep 😅 I was going to respond but I couldn't keep my eyes open and I would have probably typed some gibberish.

Hope you slept well. Doing anything fun today? Or just finishing up little stuff before you guys leave for the airport?

So when you do that, does it ever creep your customers out when you guess their order correctly? Also, the thing about guessing the voices from animation or movies, that's amazing. I could never even guess or be close to who it is if I did guess.

I'm the same way with names and numbers. I try to guess the name and it's always far off 😅 then numbers always get jumbled.

Ah I see. What's the most words you have written in just an hour? Also, have you ever finished writing a fic then reread it after and scrap the whole thing?

I'm the same way with reading fics with a lot of kinks. I think I just read the fic, but then once I see something disturbing to me, I stop. I try to push myself to see if I can handle reading it, but then it actually weirds me out so I can't continue 😅

I think my answer is the same as yours. Especially the bdsm with pain, or if it has blood and other bodily functions..no no for me. And is pet play like beastiality? Sorry I don't think I know that.

I did not expect the naenae song 🤣 do you do the dance too?? Hahaha

For me:

1. Dynamite by BTS

2. Secret Love Song by Little Mix

3. Any country songs lol

Name 3 songs that remind you of your crush.

- CuriousGeorge

Hello hello youngins righty eyebag! 😅

I wanna see what kind of giberish u type if u reply mr when u r sleepy.lol.

How r u? N how was ur day? R u feeling better emotionally?

I didnt sleep well last night. Stayed up until like past 2.am. i got a little panic attack becausr i overthought if i forget something or if i pack too much.

We got to the hotel around 4pm. N im just chillin now.

The hotel is nice.. was thinking to sleep early tonight because we gotta wake up at 4am to go to the airport but the room has a separated room like a living room with desk n chair with tv also, so it is so tempting to stay up late n write. 😅 but i think i should sleep early..but im not sure.lol.

Haha no. They actually love it.. but i did kinda shocked one customer though because i started the talk in a wrong way but then she laughed about it. It was when i was in new orleans walk at night n i was kinda drunk. N i recognize too. N my drunk ass talked to her n say "excuse me, u live in ...(city name) right?" 😅

N her drunk face was like "wtf" n she said yeah.. n i was like "oh no dont worry, im sorry..i work at (sushi restaurant name) n i serve ur table pretty often." Then i start mention her regular orders n then she recognize me.🤣🤣🤣 n she laughed. Then we walked the bourbon street together drunk. 🤣

About recognize actors / actress voice in animation movie, sometimes i got it right sometimes i dont.😅🤣

Yeah numbers n names r hard to remember.

I never pay attention how much i write in an hour. Mostly 1 fic i wrote at least between 4-6K words but the most in one fic i think it's like 12K but i end up splitting them to few parts. If The Monsters Within a whole one fic it will be the longest i hv written because over 18K words n still counting. 😊

Yeah i have done that, but not scraping the wholr thing though, i scrapped almost half of it.. one time i wrote quite a lot, ideas flowed n stuff..i wrote it on google doc n it was on offline mode because i was on a flight. But when i finally connect it to internet, the part that wrote was not saved n gone.. i wanted to cry. I think it was the dark wanda fic "I Love You Too Much" i dont know if u have read that but yeah i had to write all over again.

Haha yeah im like that too. It was an age play fic, i tried to be open minded about it but i stopped in the middle because i couldnt read it.

Petplay is a kink where one of them act like a pet such as puppy,or kitten or bunny. I dont mind reading light pet play but not too much. Im not good at explaining this but i guess u can google it. 😊

Haha yeah sometimes i do the nae nae song but only when im drunk. 😅 im not a good dancer n too shy for that. But when im drunk im a different person.😅🤣

Ah okay.. i will check those songs.. u dont like country song? I think pop country r very nice to listen to, for me. 😊

Song that reminds me of H? Hmm...

1. Gorgeous by Ash (the one that inspired me smut idea with Natasha. 😊

2. Con La Brisa by Foudeqush

3. Gooey Rework by Glass Animals. 😁

What about u?

Also i think u asked something about pt. 4. I dont remember if i have answered it or not. Can u remind me again? Im too lazy to scroll to my answers right now. Sorry. 😁😆

Next question?

Cheerio! (Not the cereal one)

[blackbird-brewster]

8, 15, 25, 36!

8. Post an out-of-context spoiler from a wip.

Bex, you and I both know why you asked me THIS question but SURPRISE, I'm NOT giving you anything from 'Between You & Me'. Instead here something from 'Blue Heaven Midnight Crush' (takes place in S2)

Derek couldn't entirely argue with her reasoning, yet he registered the melancholy expression that had crossed her face while she had been lost in thought. Emily had turned back to people watch and Derek could suddenly see just how uncomfortable she looked in the situation. He wasn't sure if he had somehow missed her body language on previous outings, or if he was only seeing it for the first time because she was allowing him to. 

"I get your hesitations but I think you should give online dating a shot," Derek said to break the silence that had settled between them. "Why not? If you talk to a woman online and you don't want to meet up in person, so what? What do you have to lose?"

"My already precariously low amount of self-worth," Emily quipped. "Look, Morgan, I appreciate your attempts here, but I really don't need a girlfriend. I finally feel like I'm hitting my stride on the team and I don't need to start dating right now. I'm honestly fine on my own."

15. What’s your favourite time to write?

I'm actually a full-time writer, as in I usually can get a good 8-ish hours of writing in a day! I get writing done at two specific times of day. 9am-4pm M-F and 10pm-4am << these are the hours my partner is either at work or asleep. I rarely write when they're awake bc we spend our evenings together, so I write a lot during the week days or I burn the midnight oil.

25. What’s your favourite part of the writing process (worldbuilding, brainstorming/outlining, writing, editing, etc)?

When I post my words into the void and walk away! No, but seriously, up until I came back in July, I NEVER made outlines and I NEVER edited stuff (sorry readers!) I wouldn't even read my fics. I would pour the words out, post them and never look back. (I have since gone back to all my pre-2022 fics and read/edited them, some of them I had literally NEVER read before!)

Now? I think I really enjoy the actual writing process. I'm actually making outlines or at least a collection of thoughts that I build from, but putting my headphones on with a huge mug of coffee and pouring my soul into a fic for hours at a time feels sacred to me.

36. What fic are you proudest of?

This answer will be a bit long-winded but who cares? I want to discuss not only the fics I am most proud of but WHY I am proud of them. Three fics will always live in my heart as works I am proudest of! When I started writing Jemily in 2014/ish, I was struggling a lot with my mental health so I wrote a lot of fics that dealt with those struggles.

HEAD FULL OF DOUBT: This is a Jemily high school AU, where Emily goes to public school for her senior year and subsequently meets JJ, who is struggling with early onset schizophrenia. It is a story of friendship, patience, hope and understanding following their senior year together. This fic was SO incredibly important to me because the entire thing was basically a love letter to my younger self and to each and every person I have lost to depression and other mental illnesses. After writing this fic, I decided I had nothing else to write because I truly felt like NOTHING else I wrote would EVER be as important to me. So this was why I retired from writing.

2. THE FIVE HORSEMEN OF THE SILENT CHASM: (BE ADVISED OF THE TAGS ON THIS FIC BEFORE YOU READ IT!!!!) This was one of my earliest Criminal Minds fics. Again, it is about mental health, specifically depression and PTSD. This is NOT a happy story nor does it have a happy ending. While Head Full of Doubt manages to approach mental illness through a caring. understanding lens, this is the EXACT opposite. [A Journey Through the Silent Chasm] is now a three part series, detailing what tragic aftermath is left in the wake of suicide. The second part was written by @otahkoapisiakii. Both of us are survivors in terms of our own mental illnesses AND survivors of others who we've lost to suicide. So this will ALWAYS be an incredibly personal story to both of us and I will always be so humbled and grateful to have such a wonderful friend who understands this topic.

3. FOOLED AROUND (AND FELL IN LOVE): Like I said, after HEAD FULL OF DOUBT (which at the time was my longest solo-written fic at a small 24k WC), I retired from writing. I just closed my laptop and walked away. FOR SEVEN YEARS, I never even considered I would EVER return to a) Criminal Minds fandom and b) writing fic for it. But in July a series of events led me to read all my old fanfics and I happened to come across an unfinished WIP that was my take on 'Imagine Me & You' but make it Jemily. I had mapped it out to be about FIVE chapters total, basically a scene-for-scene remake of the film.

But out of that original idea, FOOLED AROUND (AND FELL IN LOVE) was born!! In the span of about a month, I wrote not one but TWO parts of this sapphic rom-com and GOD do I love this AU!! I think about it every day and I am infinitely proud of all 180,000 words of it!!! It' so much fun and it's so soft compared to me older fics, which is a direct comparison to how GOOD I'm doing in life now vs then.

[SEND AUTHOR ASKS]

[k--havok]

13. What is the latest you’ve stayed up or earliest you’ve gotten up to write?

Well… I’m a night owl. So my usual “daytime” is between 4pm-8am which is when I write. I don’t ever wake up early or go to bed late to write lol.

However! Back in high school I hyper focused on writing for the entirety of a summer break and it was all I did. I would wake up around 2pm, start writing at 3pm, and write until usually 4am or so. I’d take breaks for food and the bathroom but that was it…

Once I wrote for 2 days straight with no sleep. It made me incredibly sick as you can imagine and it ended that insane hyper focused writing streak

Sleep is very important to health (and promoting that is my job… so….) so I try and match my actions to what I tell my patients :3

Also I have too much sleep debt to pull crazy stunts like I did haha

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Tuesday 23 July 1839

7 ¼

11 ½

fine morning long in dressing – ready at 9 ¼ at which hour F74 ¼° on the window seat – sun shining in – busy over 1 thing or other while A- dressed – went to Mrs. Todds’ at 10 to breakfast – café au lait and large dish of small good strawberries – had our bookseller with two recommendation letters of the payable gentleman about 10 ¾-courier it seems to some English sporting gentlemen – explained to our bookseller the sort of place that of courier was, and desired to see the man – he came soon after 11 – 5 Rigsgeld [kriegsgeld]  dollars a day, and we to pay all his expense of living and lodging – about what would these be? He could not possibly say – never would tell beforehand what they charged in Norway .:. he could not calculate, what we should have to pay – on pressing him to calculate, supposing us to travel on the average six Norse miles a day, he said 60 dollars Banco a day - £150 should be taken for a months’ journey – Enough thought I – I remarked upon this – said it staggered me – I would consider about it, and let him have my [?] thro’ Mrs. Todd – he begged if I thought of getting a carriage, that he might be let know before I made the agreement that he might see to the wheels, etc – I said I should say nothing about this at present – It was now near 12 – sent Gross, with Anderson to see if the banker merchant carnegie was at home – no! gone to England and his partner always away – but went there – the clerk could not give me money for £25 circular no. 8582 till 4am but gave me 50DB. in a//c to pay our coachman – then to our bookseller – explained about the courier – his calculations had alarmed me – 60DB. a day too much – they stared – then bought 2 vols. (my German dictionary size i.e. small square size) Swedish and English dictionary 6DB. and vocabulary Swedish Danish German French English and Italian 2DB. and Swedish grammar 36 [skillings] – No English Swedish grammar now to be had out of print – would send an old cashed for drunkenness but now sobered Lund [?] professor of languages to give me a lesson in Swedish at 4pm – I had told our bookseller this morning I would give him a letter (he is going to Brussels Paris and London) to Mr. Bewsher at our London custom house – but seeing that our friend had already got 37 letters of introduction I saw he had enough and told him the letter to Mr. Bewsher would really be of no use – I took the house he is recommended to in London doubtless good for him – George and Vulture Tavern St. Michaels’ Alley Cornhill  - He is taking his wifes’ sister to Paris to finish her singing education – 4 masters recommended – Lablache and Rubini 2 of them – I said R- was perhaps the best in Europe? – sauntered along the pier – one of the steamers gone (at 5am) the other waiting till Thursday – Had walked thro’ the establishment des Bains – pretty building with circular portico front towards the water and a little flower garden ground roses etc. and gravel walks in front to the edge of the pier – Home about 2 – paid our coachman having him at Mrs. Todds’ and having her and her secretary to help us – not dissatisfied with him, but it seems the [forebud] was in fault for our being so long en route – the man I had promised him 10 Rs. – gold dollars – no! thought all was paid when I had given him the 33+ Dollars B. it ended in my giving 2DB. for the [forebud] saying I was not satisfied with him – and then at the coachmans’ request I wrote ‘I am quite satisfied with John Harder, and much obliged to Mr. Munthle – I was thirty three hours and a half in performing the journey that is till half past three yesterday afternoon – Gothenburg Tuesday 23 July 1839 A. Lister’ – then came here (our lodging) and sat down to write – about 4, had a young

SH:7/ML/E/23/0090

man from the bank with the remainder of the money exchange 11 dollars 32 skillings Banco - .:. Mr. Munthe got 1 dollar 32sk. banco x 15 = 25 dollars Banco!!! besides probably a premium upon coachman, harness etc. – the banker merchants clerk just gone when John Vanderholm recommended by Mr. Tod came to offer as servant to go with us to Norway – a Swede – tanner by trade which he learnt in London and married an English woman – she is here – his trade failed him – he does what he can to get a living – has 8 children – asks 3 Dollars Banco per day, but then he pays for himself – calculated expense – He said at utmost                      

                           Dollars banco             skillings banco

1 dinner                        1                                    0

1 breakfast                   0                                    32

1 bed                             0                                    32

1 supper cold               0                                     32

                                      3                                   00 x 2= 6 DB. for A- and myself

3/9 --------- for the servant DB. a day exclusive of posting should sometimes go 12 Norse miles a day –

a hot supper same as dinner

3 horses cannot average more even in Norway than 2DB. per mile

all this seems more likely to suit us, yet the man has never been in Norway – But he can speak to be understood by the Norsemen – speaks English like an Englishman, and perhaps our own travelling knowledge and handbook will suffice – had just written so far (from line 8 inclusive of page 168) now at 7 40/.. pm – dinner at 8 – then went to look at the little open carriage for Norway – 200 Rigsgeld [kriegsgeld]   dollars without harness or anything  - but if not much worse, will give me half price, Rigsgeld [kriegsgeld] dollars for it on our return – dinner and looking about the carriage till 9 ¾ - then while A- had Grotza, sat reading the memoir and translation of Cassandra of Lord Royston till 11 at which hour F70° - fine day till about between 2 and 3 when heavy shower – and showers afterwards

[tiredbiostudent]

:0 tell us abt ur 1st year naps!!

okay fdhjsdfjh some background first though: 1st yr university I was super depressed and miserable and had v bad issues with falling asleep [aka I would usually not go to bed before 2am at LEAST bc a) insomnia tings

anyways this culminated in me being extremely sleep-deprived and probably getting 4 hours a night on avg? :))) I was EXHAUSTED 90% of the time [physically and mentally ;)))] and would show up to class tired out of my mind. I genuinely fell asleep in 80% of my biology classes and yes I wish I was joking (they were 1.5hrs long and boring af tho so can u blame me). I do this thing where I can’t keep my eyes open or stay focused and I just nod off and start sleeping but I’m still kinda conscious and omg THE NOTES I WRITE BECOME DIALOGUE FROM MY DREAMS INSTEAD OF THE LECTURE. WISH I WAS MAKING THAT UP SDFJHSDFFHSD.so basically my miserable ass would go to class exhausted, sleep through class, BOOK IT home as soon as possible so I could nap. and these naps…. omfg. I would sleep for literally 10 minutes but conk out so fast and sleep so deeply it felt like I was out for hours. like I would have full ass dreams all within like 8 minutes sjkjhffsdk. and I did this like every day! what the fuck!!!! 

anyways ! hope this was funny somewhat bc I think it’s hilarious and first year still feels like a weird fever dream to me but also. PLEASE SLEEP I PROMISE YOU DESERVE IT AND BEING WELL-RESTED IS LIFE CHANGING BRO

[cinematicnomad]

Hey, i just read your fic and i loved it so much!

Eddie's characterisation is fantastic and there's just a very real, raw vulnerability to this introspection that i really enjoy!

Also, every time i see you answering questions about your works i get the feeling that you put a tremendous amount of thought into your writing, into both the general plot and the tiny details that make a fic special, and that's incredibly admirable! And it definitely pays off, too.

ummm hello this made my morning 🥺🥺🥺

i definitely try my best to make sure the characters feel true to canon? i wrote a quick outline for this fic friday afternoon and then figured that if i didn't get it down i'd lose the idea or the motivation, so i just started writing and it poured out of me. and then i was worried that if i didn't finish it friday night i would never finish OR i wouldn't have time to edit and post it before the premiere. i wrote the fic between like, 4PM friday until 5AM saturday morning, and then asked @woodchoc-magnum and @crazyassmurdererwall to read over the fic and give me their feedback. then i spent all day saturday editing and tweaking and sending new drafts to the both of them.

one thing i was worried about with the draft was that the ending felt a little rushed for me when writing (probably because...again, i was writing it while i was delirious from lack of sleep at like 4AM lol), so i had to go back and expand on the taylor scene and the confession scene and then i added in that scene of eddie alone in the bunk room. like i care about the progression of time to be believable? and so when putting together the outline, the first instinct is like "yes! panic attack! break up! buck shows up and then everything's great!!" and then i have to resist that and go, "okay but no, eddie wouldn't be ready for that, there needs to be more time, so how do we reintroduce buck into the narrative while still giving eddie time to work through everything" etc etc.

i'm so glad you liked the fic! like, it makes me beyond THRILLED bc i'm p sure this fic isn't going to interest many people, lol. it's v buck-light at the start which was intentional: eddie's basically isolating himself and refusing to acknowledge that he needs help and avoiding the person who knows him best, so buck is just sort of in the background for the first half of the fic (almost exactly, the fic is about 16k and buck shows up to make pancakes around the 7.6k mark), but i get that like....for a buddie fic to have v little buck and be pretty ana-heavy at the start, some people are gonna x out of the fic. NOT TO MENTION it's a speculation fic posted the day before canon provides us with all the answers sooooo i won't really be surprised when the algorithm buries this fic.

anyway, my point is i'm just really grateful to you and anyone else who takes the time to leave kudos, comment, or send an ask my way to let me know that you read and enjoyed my work <33

[copias-thrall]

Worth

Things have been Not Great, so I wrote an angsty Mary fic to cope.

FYI: this is not a lighthearted, heart-of-gold Mary fic. He’s kind of an asshole, and there are some heavy themes.

*brief domestic abuse (not Mary); angst; recreational drug use*

It happened after an impromptu party at her place.

The bars had closed, but no one was ready to stop—so everyone had grabbed some beers and snacks from the all-nighter and headed back to her place. Friends of friends were called, and suddenly at 4am there were maybe 30 people in the cramped 3 bedroom in a run-down house she shared, complete with a DJ and speakers. They'd partied even after the sun came up, too drunk or high to give a shit.

When she passed out around 11am, there were still 10 or so people grinding on each other or playing a slapped-together game of beer pong in the living room.

Waking up at 4pm had been a disconcerting experience, but at least she wasn't too hungover. She’d shuffled out to the living room to assess the damage (lots of trash, but fortunately no irreparable damage)—and that's when she heard noises in the kitchen.

She’d made her way there and saw a skinny punk boy with floppy hair and smeared makeup making eggs on her stove. Upon her arrival, he’d turned and said,

“Oh, hey. You want some?”

And that’s how she became friends with Mary.

***

He was suddenly around all the time.

Sometimes he’d show up early evening with a 6-pack, and the two of them would smoke weed, or play video games, or she’d listen to him pontificate about the musical artist of the week he was mainlining before he left to troll the bars.

Sometimes he’d show up on her couch in the morning, sleeping off the night before, and she’d have to coax him up with coffee and the promise of bacon before he stumbled back out into the world to do whatever it was that Marys do during the daytime.

For a while he became something of an unofficial roommate to everyone—sometimes bringing supplies, other times eating what wasn’t his; sometimes leaving a mess of dishes in the sink, other times taking out the trash—but always her friend first.

That all changed the night one of her roommates gave the couch to a friend from out-of-town. There’d been a soft knocking at her door, and then Mary was slipping into her room.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You mind if I sleep on your floor?”

She’d looked down at the space rug that she hadn’t vacuumed in months.

“I don’t mind scooting over. But you have to lose some layers. I don’t want your denim pressing into me all night.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

He’d hesitantly stripped down to a t-shirt and boxers before sliding into the space she’d made for him. There’d been some jostling, but Mary had kept his hands to himself.

The friend had finally left the couch, but Mary never left her bed.

Now when he needed a place to crash, he crawled in through her window in the middle of the night to slip into bed with her. (And maybe there was some snuggling—but two friends sharing a twin was perfectly normal, right?) He suddenly seemed to prefer hanging out in her room—chilling cross legged on her mattress as he packed a bowl or they cued up a movie on Netflix—only showing his face in the common rooms anymore when there was food to be had.

Her other roommates even remarked on his lack of presence, to which she’d shrugged. He was her friend, after all.

One morning changed everything.

She’d woken up from a steamy sex dream still unsatisfied—still wet and throbbing between her legs. Half awake, she’d mewled in frustration and rolled onto her stomach, hand reaching down between her body and the bed so she could rock into it.

“Um.”

At the sound of Mary’s voice, she’d frozen. Suddenly fully awake, she’d snatched her hand back up, scrambled to the other side of the bed, and plastered herself against the wall.

“I was just! It wasn’t! I didn’t know …”

Mary was lying stock still, face flushed and very obviously affected. Seeing where her gaze had landed, his hands had flown to cover his erection.

“Uh. Sorry. But you were … you know.”

She’d quickly gone from mortified to fascinated.

“That … turned you on?”

His blush deepened.

“Well … yeah.”

“Why?”

He’d gone to gesture, remembered his predicament, didn’t.

“You were touching yourself. I mean. I thought maybe you were having a nightmare and then …” He’d shrugged. “Kinda hot.”

“You thought it was hot? Even though it’s me?” She didn’t think someone like Mary could find someone like her attractive. That’s why he’d never hit on her, right?

“Even though you’re my friend?”

“Because I’m. Me.” She’d swept her hands up and down her body.

He’d rolled onto his side and carefully arranged the sheets to cover him. She’d watched as his hand reached out to rest on her knee.

“You’re very attractive.”

She’d scoffed at him. “I have a mirror. You don’t need to patronize me.”

His hand had scooted up to her thigh, and he’d looked up at her. Her heart had begun to pound just as all the blood that wasn’t already between her legs rushed through her ears.

“Do you … want me … to show you how attractive I find you?”

His hand had slowly traveled up the leg, and was now resting on her sweaty inner thigh. Adrenaline was coursing through her—making it hard to verbalize her need for him to keep going—so when she’d opened her mouth, all that had come out was a whimper. Still looking up at her, Mary had pressed his thumb with unnerving accuracy into her clit.

Like it had been a release valve, she’d let out a long whine as her body opened up. His thumb had continued to pet at her clit through her dampening panties, and she’d rocked into his touch, legs splaying wide.

And maybe it was because she’d been so worked up already. Or maybe it was because it had been so long since someone else had touched her. Maybe it was the dangerous expression on Mary’s face … but she’d cum in no time—her clit bubbling as she twitched and groaned to each pulsing wave.

Before she’d had time to come down—or feel embarrassed—Mary was on her, all previous attempts at modesty gone as he’d pressed his hard-on into her thigh.

“Can I fuck you?” he’d mouthed into her neck.

Her first instinct had been to tell him “yes” … but it had been so long since anything bigger than a finger had been in her, and she’d hesitated. Feeling her tense, Mary had backed off.

“Or, I could just jack off.”

“No—I …” she’d wiggled around and kicked off her sticky panties. “Thighs ok?”

Mary had eagerly pressed into her back. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s great. Wanna feel how wet you are.”

There had been some wiggling around on his part—to divest himself of his boxers, she’d supposed—and then she’d felt as his dick eased between her closed thighs. He’d grunted, and then his arms came around her: one held her hips steady while he thrust, the other grazed and pinched at her nipples through her nightshirt.

“So hot,” he’d said as his lips smeared down her neck. “Wanted you for a while.” They came back up to press behind her ear.

All she’d been able to manage in return was a gasp as his clever fingers worked at her body—his free hand grazing her nipples and his steadying hand slipping down to rub at her clit again. Panting, he’d brought her to climax once more before clutching her tightly to him so he could finally pump himself to release as well.

Wheezing into her shoulder, Mary’s hips had finally stuttered, and he’d let out a breathy moan right before she’d felt the wetness of his cum start to drip down her thighs. Languidly, he’d rocked his hips as he worked himself through the aftershocks; then,his arms had loosened their hold, and he’d sighed before placing a quick kiss to the back of her neck.

“Good?”

Her head was spinning, and she’d murmured out a “Yeah.”

He’d shifted around, his arms withdrawing from her space.

“C’mon, let’s go back to sleep. Still early.”

“But the mess …” she’d begun, but he’d just pulled her onto his chest.

“Later.”

Mary had fallen asleep immediately, but she’d lain awake wondering what whatever the fuck had just happened meant.

***

Neither of them really talked about it later, but Mary had stopped showing up just to hang. Instead, she’d leave her window open, and most nights he’d crawl through her window in the AM and stick around for breakfast. A fresh box of condoms (since the existing ones in her underwear drawer were 5yrs old) and a few solo practice sessions later had her back on the horse. Mary had relished the full access to her body, delighting in fucking her lazily while he played her body—his mouth sucking on all the right spots while his hands and fingers teased at her other erogenous zones.

He always made sure she came before he did—often multiple times—before finally letting loose and using her body to get off. He always seemed so desperate for it, and she was happy to let him use her—afterward contently sighing into his chest while basking in the afterglow as his arms wrapped around her. It was nice to be wanted, to be touched—even if she missed the part where the two of them drank shitty beer and talked shit while gaming.

When she voiced her regret to her roommate, they had just rolled their eyes at her.

“Have you been out of the game that long? He was courting you then. That’s just how men are. Don’t worry about it.”

So, she tried not to.

***

It’s one of those nights she feels the stirring to go out. She tries to coax one of her roomies to come with her, but they all beg off with the excuse of work in the morning.

“I do too! We don’t have to stay super late!”

But they remain unmoved.

So, she shimmies into the dress that makes her feel the best about herself, pust her face on, and goes out for a drink.

The bar is moderately crowded when she gets there, and she makes a beeline for the electronic jukebox, determined to get some of her bops into the queue so maybe she’ll even get to hear them before she leaves.

Satisfied, she approaches the bar to order a chocolate porter. And hey, wait!—she recognizes that shape across the bar! As her eyes adjust, she's even more certain that it’s Mary. A smile breaks out on her face—she can’t wait to surprise him after she gets her beer.

Pint glass in hand, she makes her way through the bodies to the other side of the bar to where Mary is talking to the pink-haired woman next to him. He’s so engrossed that he doesn’t notice her standing in front of him. In fact, it’s the woman he’s talking to who notices her first.

“Um, hello?” says Pink Hair.

“Oh. I … just wanted to say hi to Mary.”

Mary looks over at her, but his expression is guarded.

“Oh, hey.”

“Hey!”

Pink Her takes an exaggerated sip of her cocktail.

“Did you need something? Because I’m kinda busy here,” he says.

She can feel her smile fall. “Oh. O-ok. I just thought …”

“Look, I’ll catch you later or something, ok?”

Her stomach turns to ice. “Oh, um. Ok, sure.” She starts to say that she’ll be here for a bit, but he’s already turning back around, a smile breaking on his face just for Pink Hair as his hand goes to res on the woman’s knee.

As she stiffly walks away, she hears Pink Hair say, “Who was that?” and Mary respond, “Just some girl who follows me around. You know how it is.”

On autopilot—heart making a rapid tattoo against her ribs—she makes her way to an open high-top. Her good mood has evaporated like water during a scorcher. The sensible thing to do would be to go home—but she hates herself, so she stands there, nursing her beer and trying to make it look like she’s not zeroed in on Mary and his … friend? No need to think the worst. Maybe Pink Hair’s having a rough day and Mary’s listening to her. He’s good like that.

Her bubble of delusion pops when she sees him lean in to kiss Pink Hair’s neck. When his mouth meets the woman’s, her heart officially drops into her stomach … but for some reason she can’t seem to look away. She feels an almost destructive need to make herself see this.

The two of them make out for a bit before Mary puts a bill on the bar and they start to make their way to the exit. For half a second Mary’s eyes catch hers across the bar … and then they slide away, his hand on the small of Pink Hair’s back as they leave together.

She watches the door for a long time after they disappear. She wonders if she’s going to be sick.

Beer unfinished, she sluggishly makes her way to the door, no longer interested in a night out. As she walks home in a daze, she keeps replaying the entire thing over and over in her head to the extent that she walks half a block past her apartment.

Her roommates are still up when she makes it inside, but she just mumbles out a “Hey” and goes straight to her room. For several minutes she just stands there, unsure of the next action to take: change clothes? smash things? brush her teeth? cry?

She ends up walking over to her window. Instead of lifting the pane open, she makes sure it’s closed all the way before thumbing the latch to locked. To make a further statement, she pulls her curtains shut. Mechanically, she undresses and crawls into bed—she'll brush her teeth in the morning.

It’s only because she's still awake—her brain unable to shut off—that she hears it: little plinks. At first she wonders if it’s raining, and then she realizes something is hitting the window pane. A glance at her clock tells her it’s 3:56am.

Even though she already knows what she'll find, she sloughs over to the window and parts the curtains. There’s Mary in his leather jacket, arm raised as if to throw another pebble. He grimaces at her, then motions for her to open the window.

But she's just some girl, so she closes the curtains again and gets back into bed.

As she lays there, a horrible thought passes through her brain: Is this how it always is? He always shows up around the same time every night. Has … has he been coming to her after he’s had his way with his stunning girl du jour? Is she just a warm bed to sleep in after they kick him out? How many times has she been sloppy seconds? Was he even attracted to her, or were those just pretty words to keep him in her bed?

Rolling over for the hundredth time, she thinks about how he always fucks her with her back pressed into him. She'd always thought it was nice—cuddled up close to Mary, his hands free to touch her everywhere … but now she wonders if it was so he didn’t have to look at her, so he could pretend she was the girl he’d just left.

Well. No more.

The next several days crawl. Her roommates give her a wide berth, waiting for her to say something … or not. Every night around 4am, she hears the telltale plink of detritus hitting her window, but she doesn't show her face again.

She wishes he’d just go away.

And then he does, and she wishes she knew what she wanted.

***

She never does say anything to her roommates, but with her mood and the lack of a Mary Goore, they put two-and-two together. They arrange movie nights with vodka and popcorn; they drag her out to clubs that play booty music; they snarl at any man who dares approach her.

She'd never met Mary before her house party, and now it’s like she can’t go to a bar without running into him. The first couple of times, her friends and roommates had barred him from interacting with her with hissed words and thinly-veiled threats, and he’d backed off. But as the leeway around The Event wears off, she eventually has to tell him to fuck off herself.

“But I just want to …”

“No. We’re done, Mary.”

“But—”

“Go away. Or I’m gonna grab a bouncer.”

She feels like she already knows what he’s going to say, anyway, and she’s already exhausted. While she never assumed he was her boyfriend, she had assumed they were exclusive. But: it’s not like the two of them ever talked about what they were, so he has her there … and she can’t help feel like he got away on a technicality on that point. Even before he started sharing her bed and then fucking her, Mary was crashing at her place on the reg. Was it so outlandish to think he wasn’t working his way through half the scene before crawling into bed with her?

And what good can he say about the cruel way he’d dismissed her? Perhaps even going out of his way to show her exactly what she meant to him?

As if she were nothing.

Some. Girl.

No. She has nothing more to say to Mary Goore.

***

Mary finally takes the hint. Now when she sees him out, he sends her looks, but doesn’t attempt to talk to her anymore. She knows all she needs to know anyway when she sees him still consistently leaving with a hottie on his arm.

So it’s with some surprise to her that he tries again in a way that takes her completely off guard.

It’s late in the evening, and for once she doesn't see Mary skulking about the bar she's at. A woman approaches her table and asks if she can talk to her. She thinks maybe the woman needs help, or likes her shoes or something—If she'd known what the woman was about, she'd have never agreed.

“What’s up?” she asks when the two of them are alone at a free high-top in the corner.

“I’m one of Mary’s friends, and—”

She scoffs and makes to go, but the woman rests a hand on her arm.

“No! Wait, hear me out.”

The woman’s eyes plead, and—against her better judgement—she stays.

“You’re not going to convince me of anything.”

“Just listen, ok?”

She folds her arms.

“Look, Mary’s really sorry. He’s really torn up about it. You don’t even—”

“I don’t give a shit about how he feels.”

The woman swallows. “He really does feel awful about the misunderstanding, and—”

“No,” she hisses, making a cut off motion with her arm. The woman’s mouth clicks shut. “Fine, I get it—I shouldn’t have assumed I was the only one he was fucking. That’s on me, I guess. But there was no misunderstanding. He wasn’t confused when he pretended I was just some sad little girl mooning after him. And I don’t know if he saw sex with me as repayment for giving him a place to crash or if my spreading my legs for him just an added bonus.” She's pretty sure her face is purple at this point. "But I seriously doubt he didn’t understand that fucking one person and then leaving to fuck another in the same night is not acceptable—especially without telling them.”

“I … he—”

“So I don’t care how many sympathetic friends he gets to do his dirty work, I’m fucking done with him. He can find another warm body to dupe. He certainly doesn’t lack options.” She starts to walk away and then turns back. “This isn’t some version of hard to get. I want him to leave me alone.”

***

She meets Benny at a friend of a friend’s house party. He’s … ok. Kind of pompous and into himself—but charismatic and funny. And if she wasn’t looking to fill the Mary-Shaped void (instead of waiting for it to close on its own) she probably would have just tossed his number. But he focuses his wattage on her, and his eyes take in her body like it’s a treat, so she thinks: what the hell?

As a boyfriend he’s … ok. He takes her out on dates and buys her small trinkets—so she purposefully overlooks that he has to have his own way. And when she’d been upfront about looking for exclusivity, he’d said they both were both on the same page. So what if he has the tendency to talk over her? It’s not like it’s forever.

In bed he’s … ok. Not exactly a thoughtful dynamo, but he touches her body and meets her eyes during sex—and that’s more than she's had in a while. So what if he sometimes makes little comments about what a catch he is and how lucky she is? It’s not like anyone else is asking to be put on her dance card.

He’s not Mary—but what had Mary been, really? Some guy who’d trespassed on her hospitality because she’d been so starved for contact that she confused gratitude for affection.

It’s inevitable that they run into Mary at a bar—she’s surprised it hadn’t happened sooner—but that doesn’t mean she has to like it.

She and Benny are at the bar eating rubbery burgers and decent fried pickle chips with a pitcher of beer to wash it all down when she looks across the bar and catches Mary glowering at her. She ignores him, and she resolves to put him out of her mind.

Her resolution is blown to shit when she comes back from the bathroom and she sees Mary on a stool next to Benny.

“… you hardly have to do anything. Oh hey, babe.”

“Hey.” She climbs back up onto her stool.

He turns to her. “This is—wait for it—Mary.”

Mary’s eyes bore into hers. She sticks her hand across Benny.

“Hi, Mary. Nice to meet you.”

He limply takes her hand, gives it a shake, then lets go.

“I’m gonna hit the head. Try not to talk about me,” says Benny with a wink.

When he’s well out of earshot, Mary lays into her.

“Are you fucking serious with this guy?”

“What’s it to you?” She pops a pickle chip into her mouth.

“He’s an asshole. He was just telling me he dates girls like you because you’re so grateful for the attention that you’ll accept anything.”

She's a little stung that Mary thinks of her as ugly too—some part of her had been holding onto the scrap that maybe Mary hadn’t been lying about finding her attractive.

She continues to graze the pickles.

“Well, I am grateful, Mary. I’m not like you; I don’t have people lined up around the block waiting to fuck me. I was grateful you were willing to fuck me, and I’m grateful he likes touching me.” She locks her gaze with his. “At least he isn’t ashamed to be seen with me in public.”

Mary’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. Benny’s reappearance interrupts his attempt to form a coherent retort.

"Getting acquainted, I see.”

“Sure,” she says.

“No, that’s good.” He turns to grin at her. “See, Mary here came over to express his …” Benny sucks his teeth and gives her a once over. “Interest in what a … healthy-looking girl you are.”

She squints in confusion as Mary’s face shows open shock.

“That’s not what I …” Mary sputters.

Benny puts his hand over hers.

“Do you think we could accommodate him, babe?”

“What?” she spits out as Mary tries to back away as much as he can while still sitting.

Benny looks at Mary and then at her with a knowing glance. His hand comes up to brush at her cheekbone.

“What would you think about me watching him fuck you?”

If it were any other guy, she might have thrown her drink on Benny—but any disgust she feels toward him seems to be overridden by the opportunity to get in a jab at Mary. Glancing over, she pretends to assess him.

“No,” she says with as much haughtiness as she can muster. “He looks like a hobo. I don’t want to catch fleas.”

Mary actually has the audacity to look hurt.

“Well, let it never be said I couldn’t take a hint.”

He slides off the stool and walks away.

“Hey, wait—she didn’t mean …” sputters Benny.

They watch in silence as he exits the bar.

Benny turns to her. “Why the fuck would you say something like that?”

“Why would you?” she retorts as she crams the last of the burger into her maw.

The mood effectively killed, they pay and head out.

The walk back to his place is a quiet one, both of them annoyed at the other for very different reasons. Once in his apartment, she's barely hung up her coat before Benny is laying into her.

“What that fuck was that back there, huh? Do you know how embarrassing that was for me?”

She rolls her eyes at him.

“My ‘gratitude’ has limits, Benny.”

The slap comes out of nowhere. More of an open-handed punch, really. She goes stumbling backwards, momentarily stunned. When her hand touches her face, it comes away with blood from a split lip. When she looks up, Benny is looking at her coldly, but calmly.

“You hit me,” she says, incredulous.

“I think I’ve been really good about restraining myself until now. You know how you are.”

It should say something that she's more annoyed that Mary was right about wasting her time on an asshole like Benny than she is in fear of him.

She grits her teeth.

“We’re fucking done, Benny.”

His face contorts in a journey of annoyance, disbelief, and irritation.

“You think anyone else is going to want you? Just look at you. You’re lucky to have me.”

“Mary wanted me,” she says.

“What?”

“The guy at the bar. For the record, I’ve already fucked him, and he might have bedbugs, but he’s a much better lay.”

Benny, face red, crowds into her space. “Are you really trying to provoke me right now?”

“You’re right. I’m actually leaving.”

“Bitch, you think—” he moves to grab her wrists, but she pushes him, hard.

He stumbles back and trips over his rug, landing on his ass. It would be comical except for the dark look he gives her. Feeling a sudden lance of fear, she goes for the door, knocking the end table over as an extra obstacle for him. She wastes precious seconds yanking hard at her coat as she flees—hearing it tear somewhere as it pulls free—since her phone and her wallet are in the pockets.

She catches a glimpse of him just getting to his feet yelling, “You fucking cunt,” as she slams the door behind her. Heart pounding, she runs up a flight of stairs, hoping to fake him out—but his door slams open just in time for him to see her.

“You never had it so good!” he screams as he climbs after her.

She chances running down the hall on the next floor to get to the back stairwell, but she’s not quick enough. “If you leave don’t expect me to take you back,” she hears as she practically vaults down the next flight. Instead of continuing or booking it back to the main stairwell, she sprints to the turn in the hall and stops—back pressed against the wall, hand across her mouth as she pants.

Benny’s footfalls stop as he reaches the landing to his floor then pause. She can hear him let out a Fuck, and she tenses—ready to claw if he comes around the corner—but he continues on down the hall. It sounds like he searches the main stairwell again, but it’s hard to tell.

She remains there, getting her breathing back under control and listening intently for the telltale sounds he’s checking the back stairs again … but so far: nothing. As she waits to make sure Benny isn’t going to chase after her, she has time to think about what she'd said to goad him. Part of her wonders if she didn’t have it good with Mary after all; the more reasonable part reminds herself that she deserves better than either of them—even if that means no one.

Finally, she hears him stomping and cursing, and then the slam of his door. Even so, she still waits—playing repeating songs over in her head—before craning her head around the L of the hall. Seeing nothing suspicious, she carefully slinks to the back stairs, lightly tiptoeing down them until she reaches the emergency exit. Uncaring about an alarm, she slams it open, making her way into the cooling night air.

She runs all the way home, never stopping to even put on her coat.

***

For months she’d kept her bedroom window closed and locked—not wanting to give Mary the impression that an open window was an invitation—but after his attempts had stopped with his friend’s plea, she'd felt comfortable cracking it open again.

Which is why several days after the incident with Benny, Mary can once again climb through her window. He scares the bejesus out of her—part of her half-asleep brain convinced it’s Benny here to enact retribution.

Something in her eyes must convey her alarm because he blurts out, “Hey, hey—it’s just me.”

She's relieved until she remembers how pissed at him she is.

“What the fuck, Mary.”

“Sorry.”

She sits up in bed and turns on her bedside lamp.

“Are you fucking kidding me? What about my memo didn’t you get?”

He rubs the back of his neck.

“I know—I’m sorry. I just. I wanted to make sure you were ok.”

“Because I obviously must be wasting away without a dick to fill me?”

He gives her a strange look.

“No. Because of …” He makes a flapping gesture with his hand.

“Because of … what? First word? Sounds like?”

His brows furrow.

“Shit. You don’t know.”

She rubs at her eyes. “It’s fucking late, Mary. Help me out.”

“May I?” he asks as he goes to sit on the edge of her bed.

“No,” she hisses, and he pops back up.

He teeters awkwardly before turning it into a lean against her dresser.

“Benny’s been around. Saying shit.”

“Lemme guess: he’s been talking shit about putting me in my place with a firm hand or something? Maybe that he broke up with me because I’m pathetic? Neither of which are true, by the way.”

Mary actually looks nervous.

“Um. Kinda. But it’s …”

“What?” she snaps.

He takes a deep breath.

“He’s been saying that he found out you were cheating on him so he ‘taught you a lesson’ by ‘destroying your ass’ before kicking you to the curb. He, um. Described it in great detail.”

She stares at Mary, stunned.

“What?”

He rubs his neck again, unable to meet her eyes.

“It’s just. His accuracy … I had to make sure you were ok.”

She realizes she’s balling her fists in her sheet, so she unclenches.

“Oh,” she says. “Well, thanks. I guess.”

“So you are? Ok?”

She rubs her face with her hands.

“I mean, he hit me, but—”

“What?” barks Mary as he looks up at her sharply.

“Yeah. He was pissed I declined to let you fuck me in front of him, so he slapped me. I told him to fuck off and left.”

Mary goes to examine her face before he remembers she's no longer his to touch.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he backs away again.

“I’m fine, Mary. Just a split lip. Practically healed. You didn’t even notice it.”

“Well, you’re light’s fucking dim. You didn’t even notice …” He trails off.

“Notice what, Mary?”

“Nothing.”

“Notice. What?”

He sighs and holds out his hands. She sees immediately that his knuckles are bruised and bloody.

“Mary! Your hands!”

Before she can stop herself, she shoots up and grabs his hands to examine the damage.

“What happened?”

“Do you really want to know?”

She squints up at him, feeling like she already knows the answer.

“Tell me.”

He sighs.

“True or not, I just couldn’t let that douche talk shit about you in public. I wasn’t the only one, either, you know—you have more friends that you think you do. A couple of us … drove home that he needed to shut the fuck up and move on.”

She hates that she feels thankful, but she is.

And then he has to go and ruin the moment by saying, “I’m not really boyfriend material, you know.”

She lets his hands go.

“That’s such a fucking cop out, Mary. An excuse to keep you from responsibility.”

He makes a frustrated noise.

“I have friends and I have people I fuck. I’m not …. I don’t have friends I fuck.”

The old feelings of righteous indignation flare up.

“Then why? We could have written off that first morning as a one off. Laughed about it as half-asleep shenanigans. Why keep fucking me?”

His head thunks back against the wall.

“Because I was fucking selfish, ok? Sleeping next to you for weeks without touching you was a special kind of torture. I didn’t think I could go back to that. And I wanted … I wanted you to feel good. That’s what I’m good at: making people feel good. You think that you’re this troll who’s lucky if someone looks at you, and I needed to show you that you’re not. Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean you aren’t hot, ok? Your problem isn’t that you’re ‘ugly’—it’s that you refuse to believe anyone could be into you. You miss what’s right in front of you—and I don’t even mean me.”

Her lather gets up.

“Well, congrats: you did, you asshole. You made me feel like I could be worth something. You came by and talked to me about shit and slept in my bed and touched me like I wasn’t a gross beach ball. And then you,” tears suddenly well in her eyes, “and then you treated me like trash. You tell me you wanted to show me I was worth something, but then you treated me like I was some delusional fangirl—like you weren’t coming here and fucking me every night—so you could go home with a fucking goth model. You made sure you weren’t even subtle. Was I ever more than just the after party, Mary? Some place to slink to after the main event so you didn’t have to go home?”

Piece said, she scrubs her eyes and sniffles at Mary. He only stares back at her as the minutes start to tick by uncomfortably.

Just when she's given up on getting a response from him, he says,

“I just assumed you understood who I was.”

She waits for more. Anything else.

But that’s it. That’s all he has to say.

“I didn’t, but I do now,” she says tiredly. “And I deserve better than your paltry offering.”

Again, he has the audacity to look hurt.

She settles herself back into her covers.

“I appreciate you beating the shit out of Benny, but I really do wish you’d leave me alone. My open window just means I’d like some fresh air.”

“I—”

“Leave,” she hisses as she drapes her arm over her eyes.

It takes a moment, but then she hears Mary shuffle over to the window and scramble out of it.

And then all she hears is the wind blowing through the trees.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Epilogue

And that could be the end of it.

It certainly feels like the end of the 2yr entanglement with Mary Goore. He seems to disappear from her life just as suddenly as he arrived. Everyone around her vows to hate him on principle even if she suspects a few of them still smoke with him.

One of her roommates moves out, and one that she ends up hating moves in.

She gets a new job, and has a brief affair with a colleague that ends in tears when he realizes he actually is ready to marry his ex.

Once or twice she Googles Mary, but he has zero social media presence—just a few blurry, red-eyed pics of him with other people from the scene.

She moves into a place with another girl from work.

Two of her friends get married to each other.

She pays off her student debt and buys a modest place.

Occasionally she hears mention of one of his shenanigans, but never anything substantial. Never anything about his lovers.

More of her friends get married.

She finds herself missing the days when she could do casual shots with roommates and still be fresh for work the next day.

She dates every asshole her dating app has to offer before deleting them all and buying some very nice toys.

Sometimes she goes out to her old haunts and watches the social shit show with fondness.

Mary becomes like that song: someone she used to know.

Until …

He isn’t.

It’s in that Japanese coffee shop of all places that she finally sees him—the man behind the myth—again. She’s tapping away at her laptop, latte in hand, when she sees him in line. At first, she doesn’t even think it’s him.

She thinks, “Huh. That dude looks like Mary Goore.” But the longer she stares, the more she realizes that it is Mary Goore.

Mary used to be a skinny-ass noodle boy. His hair was always greasy and flaky with product. Even when clean, his clothes were covered in stains and holes. His leather jacket was dull with half the lining ripped away, and his Docs were covered in black duct tape. Under his makeup, his face was handsome, but covered in acne.

This … man is still very slender, but his shoulders have broadened, and she thinks she can detect a little potbelly. His hair is still styled, but it looks clean. He looks clean. His leather jacket looks lived in, but is still shiny. The black jeans are still molded onto his legs … but the only rips are at his knees and—unlike the only pair she ever saw him wear—don’t look like they’d ooze oil if you pressed hard. The ends are tucked into boots that—while scuffed—aren’t cracked or peeling. When he turns to stare absently at the wall, she can see that his face has filled out a bit, but the makeup is more subtle—still white in pallor, but instead of clunky skull accents, his eyes and cheeks are sleek and contoured.

The old feeling of longing stirs in her gut.

It’s why, stupidly, instead of being satisfied with just this glimpse, she says (in a hesitant, wavering voice), “Mary?” after he gets his order. She doesn't know why she does this to herself. It’s not like she wants to hear about his marriage or his kids. Or worse—how he’s still giving it away for free like that’s all he’s worth.

Despite various diets and exercise regimes, she's only grown more womanly—but she's learned that what Mary told her all those years ago was truth: she was the only thing cockblocking herself.

To-go cup in hand, he swivels his head this way and that, trying to find the source of his name. His gaze glosses right over her, and she doesn't quite have the courage to call out to him again. But then his eyes land on her and focus—and then he breaks out in a huge grin that opens up his whole face, that shows the fine lines his placid look was hiding.

“Oh my god. Is that you?”

She blushes and nods. He saunters over and half sits against the opposite stool. His eyes travel her up and down. She’s only a little self-conscious that he’s managed to glow-up while she's merely discovered the miracle of a tailor and Vaseline.

“You look great,” he says in a soft voice.

She waves away the compliment. “Look at you! Did you go into modeling or something?”

He snorts at her. “I—well … I guess there’s a lot of shit you wouldn’t know; a lot of shit I didn’t want to tell you. Anyway—long, boring story—after I got kicked out of my living situation, I ended up rooming with a bunch of drag queens.” He shrugs, but there’s a half smile on his face. “I was kind of their pet project for a while.”

She mirrors his expression. “That would only happen to you.”

“So how’s—” “Are you—”

Both of them chuckle nervously. Mary makes a “go on” motion.

As she wet her lips, her eyes flick to where his left hand is wrapped around his cup. No ring.

“I believe this is the part where I inquire after the health of a … uh … girlfriend?”

Subtle.

Mary’s half smile becomes whole.

“Oh, ah. Not one of those. Or the other kind. Not for a while, anyway.” He shrugs. “And … you?” he says carefully. “Husband? Kids?”

She feels her face flush, and she looks down.

“No, nothing like that.”

There’s what feels like a tense pause, but when she looks up, Mary is worrying at his bottom lip.

“I, uh. I looked for you, you know.”

Her eyes go wide “Y-you—you did?”

He nods. “But you … moved.”

She mirrors his nodding. “And changed jobs. Twice.”

He taps the tabletop between them. She rubs her palms down her jeans.

“That was kinda a fucked up time for me. I’m afraid I was really shitty to you.”

“Oh no, Mare—”

He holds his hand up. “No, I was. And I’m really fucking sorry about it. If this is it, if I never see you again, you have to know that. That, and you were just about the only good thing in my life for a while. I think I spent years chasing what I gave away with you.”

“Oh, Mare …” she says, too overcome to verbalize anything further.

“Except beating the shit out of Benny. He deserved that, and I’d do it again.”

She laughs, as was his intention.

“Maybe you should have knocked his head harder. He went away for trying to run over his girlfriend, you know?”

Mary’s brow furrows. “No shit?”

“No shit. She survived but ended up in traction.”

His face seems to darken.

“Did I push you into his arms?”

She sighs. “No, Mary. That was my own shitty decision. It’s not like I was at my best either.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he says almost under his breath.

The two of them stare at each, the conversation seemingly having run its course. Then Mary jumps, and fumbles to get his phone out of his pocket. His eyes scan the screen, then he locks it.

“So … I, uh. Have to go.”

Her blood turns into ice in her veins, and she plasters a smile on her face. “Oh, ok. I understand.”

He slides off the stool, his phone scraping across the table in tandem. He goes to put it in his pocket, then raises it, then half lowers it, then grimaces at her.

“You wouldn’t want to get coffee sometime, would you? I mean, again. Not here. Or here is fine, but as a date.” His faces screw up. “Not like a date date—but like, a get together. To … talk.” His eyebrows form a triangle and he sucks his lips into his mouth, as if that’ll stop him from his verbal diarrhea.

She smiles at him. “I actually would like that very much, Mary.” She holds out her hand, and he hands her his phone.