#like I’m not gonna try to change where the mail goes

[jess-abides]

This evening’s task was reclaiming the nightmare corner of the kitchen counter. It’s our catch-all - the first flat surface we encounter coming in from the garage, and I push everything down there when I need more space to cook. Not anymore! Now it’s one of my favorite spaces in the kitchen, so I’ll definitely be motivated to keep it picked up (and I’ve made it easier with the basket and mail pouch!)

[inawearyworld]

free if you truly wish to be: chapter iv

shit goes DOWN. as y'all have probably gathered. bc. yknow. the plot of the movie. but first there's a song yayyyyyyyyy

2023!wonka x oc, this chapter ~2.5k

god, i love musicals.

(edit: realized after posting that i was looking at the wrong page of the screenplay while writing this and therefore royally screwed up the song structure of a world of your own but it’s fiiiiiiine)

once again, thank you mat for that interview taking a typical one-dimensional dahl villain and letting him be a more complex character. also i should probably throw a content warning on this one for depiction of a slightly abusive relationship

but i promise everything's gonna be okay soon-happy new year everyone!!

part three fic masterlist part five

While going through a time of personal growth involving trying to unravel one’s identity from that of one’s rich and powerful husband, it often happens that there are advantages to said husband being wrapped in worry over a new business rival-and, therefore, spending far more time at the office.

Wren’s favorite advantage at the present moment was that she was the only one to watch the mail come in.

Deep purple stationery was the signal she looked for-and steadily received, then returned with her own emerald letters-every day. The notes included scrawled updates regarding the operation to allow the earnest young chocolatier his day in the sun, anecdotes about the group of launderers that supported it (who she’d snuck out to meet often enough that they now felt like a second family), tales of a mysterious orange man, and exchanges of advice, witticisms, and Shakespeare quotes.

The handwriting was inexperienced, and there were more than a fair share of spelling errors toward the start of their correspondence, but she didn’t care a whit.

We’ve got the shop, Willy had written one day. For now, the task is digging through its decrepit debris and designing its decoration. (The credit for those words goes to Noodle-she says hello.) There are so many possibilities, I barely know where to start.

Start with the “why”, Wren wrote back. That’s what I always do. If there’s a piece I’m struggling to sing and I lose motivation to practice, I go back to the reasons I love the piece, even all the way back to the reasons I love the arts in the first place. Maybe there’s something in there for your shop-what made you want to share your chocolate with the world? (And hello to you too, Noodle!)

My dear Wren, came the reply, you’ve just given me the best of ideas.

He told her then about his mother and the inspiration she provided. Wren would be lying if she’d said a tear hadn’t fallen onto that particular letter.

As for how to keep him safe from the Cartel, police, and every other corrupt authority, Wren did her part by becoming Florence again whenever necessary. She acted less suspicious around her husband, leading him to be less secretive-although the gain in information was miniscule, it was better than nothing.

Felix’s rages would range anywhere from tittering, jealous rants to scheming monologues during which his whole being seemed to take on a lower, darker, more calculating tone. She’d listen carefully to all of these, tactfully calling out anything that might get him to consider he was wrong, but that had little to no effect.

Plan B, then, she’d realized, is all I can do.

So, whenever Felix seemed particularly incensed or just on the verge of coming up with how to destroy his rival, Florence would swoop in with wine and dark lipstick and a low-cut dress. She’d endure being his caged pet songbird, his doll, his perfect plaything, only because she had the growing feeling that things were about to change.

If Willy’s shop becomes successful enough to be completely undeniable, maybe the Cartel will finally acknowledge him as an equal. Maybe I’ll finally be seen as an equal, too. Maybe things will finally be truly fine.

So, night after night, she’d sit on her husband’s lap, twirl his tie, and kiss his neck until he’d forgotten the name of Wonka.

The same could not be said for her.

~

Due to just how glamorized she always had to be while in public, it didn’t take much to come up with disguise enough to be able to visit the new shop on its opening day.

With a fluttering sense of hope, Wren approached the fourth building of the Galeries Gourmet, blending in seamlessly with the sea of soon-to-be-wonderstruck passers-by. She cast a few nervous glances to the window of the Fickelgruber office, at which the man stood in his usual stance. There was no chance, though, of his recognizing her trademark ginger flame amongst the crowd; it was safely tucked under a dark, low-brimmed hat.

This could have set her mind at ease, but the fact that he looked even more smug than usual as he surveyed the ground below him made her nervous.

Did they plan something?

She was distracted from this worry by a sudden flash of color at the long-empty shop’s door. Willy Wonka stepped through, looking more himself than she could have ever imagined. He addressed the crowd with a flourish, and she marveled at his ability to combine showmanship with authenticity.

He took a skeptical older man’s arm, leading him to the shop’s entrance, and began to sing.

All at once, the shop transformed before all of their eyes, flooding with color, and the music settled into a sparking pulse that thrilled Wren to the core.

Willy grinned, fully in his element, and the doorway went dark. Gloved hands presented chocolate wonders as their creator sang them into existence. When he lit a match, the store seemed to come alive, and Wren gasped.

If his letter was anything to go by, the sight he had created was an homage to his childhood on his mother’s boat, brought to life in a way nearly too beautiful to be true.

Willy and the other man danced up a bridge of sorts as his song continued, proudly offering his shop as a world for each of his customers to call their own. Overtaken and lifted by the enchanting environment, Wren squealed with the rest of the crowd and ran into the shop, ripping the hat from her head and allowing her auburn curls to tumble freely down.

She threw her head back and laughed aloud. Her lack of makeup, and plain blouse and skirt replacing the usual emerald-colored finery, gave her assurance that she wouldn’t be recognized here; this was the closest thing she’d experienced to liberation in a very long while, and she relished it, along with the sweetly simple soar of Willy’s voice across his song.

When she looked up at him again, he was sitting on the boat that floated on the circling chocolate river, and she noticed he’d already been staring with a sideways grin. As the bassline that came from nowhere launched into a rollicking chromatic vamp, he tipped his hat to her, and she gave an enamored wave.

The second verse passed, and suddenly he’d reached her, extending a hand which she took without a second thought. He helped her onto the boat, then pulled her alarmingly close, but before she could say a thing about it, a cloud of smoke appeared around them.

Wren blinked and realized that she and Willy were now at the base of the massive chocolate tree in the center of the shop.

“How did you-”

But he only smiled and started to dance his way up the tree.

“A world of your own,” he sang, then gestured an invitation straight towards her.

This’ll be easy enough, she thought, nearly bursting with joy.

“A place to escape to,” she continued, running farther up the tree to meet him in the middle. His expression filled with awe upon finally hearing her sing, and they began a whirling back-and-forth.

“A world of your own-”

“-where you can be free!”

“Wherever you go, wherever life takes you…”

“This is your home,” she sang to him, twirling herself into his arms and beaming with pride. He’s found it-he’s created it.

“A world of your own,” they finished. He looked at her for a moment, seeming struck, then kissed her hand and disappeared through the branches of the tree to continue with the song’s bridge. She let out a dazed and happy breath, taking a moment to let her gaze roam the shop from her perch in the chocolate tree.

She didn’t know what would happen next, but she’d be damned if she wouldn’t let herself enjoy this moment.

~

What did happen next was…as an understatement, not what any of them had hoped.

She wished she could say it was a complete surprise, and she wished she could have done more to stop it. The candy started having disastrous effects, the customers understandably balked, and it was clearly not Willy’s fault in the least. In a blur, the shop was in ruins, and Wren sat in shock with the little group who’d worked so hard to make it magical.

The candyman himself was devastated; not just by the massive setback, but by the absence of his mother’s spirit. Wren and Noodle sat by his side, but Abacus ushered them up. It broke Wren’s heart to think of leaving him like this-if the truest and most trusting dreamer on Earth can be broken down, where’s the hope for the rest of us?-but she somehow still felt she had to follow the group out.

She felt a hug around her waist and a held-back sob, and looked down to see Noodle clinging onto her. Wren immediately knelt to her level and hugged the girl close, finding it hard now to keep back her own tears.

“Terrible shame what-”

“Florence?”

Slowly, she opened her eyes, her breath dropping to the floor.

Slugworth had spoken first, a smooth and practiced opening to what would have turned into a gloat. The voice that had interrupted him was genuinely shaken and clearly belonging to her husband.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to Noodle, who nodded. “You can go, you shouldn’t have to see this-”

“Florence,” his voice came again, at a loss. She took a breath, stood up, and faced him with tears in her voice.

“Hi, Felix.”

Silence.

Slugworth looked with growing puzzlement between the woman and the girl, and Felix could only stare at his wife with dawning realization.

“You’ve been working with him,” he said simply, every usual quirk of inflection having vanished.

For a moment, the wash crew surrounded her in an attempt at a shield, and she heaved a breath to keep back a sob-of fear, of gratefulness for these friends that had become family over the past weeks, of everything suddenly crashing down.

“I’ll be okay,” she said quietly to the wash crew and perhaps to myself. “You all should go. Like you were going to. I’m sorry.”

They didn’t move.

She looked at Piper, whose worried hand was on her arm. There was an unspoken vow of protection between the women in that moment, but Wren’s eyes pleaded, so Piper nodded sadly, took Noodle’s hand, and the group left.

Wren was almost afraid to look at Willy, but she did; the boy was staring at the old chocolate bar in his hands, looking as if he could barely process a thing.

The sympathy in her gaze must have been far too obvious, because she suddenly heard footsteps, felt a hard grip on her wrist, and gasped in pain as it was yanked up and backwards.

“Darling,” Felix hissed with a sinister edge, though his voice was breaking, “I don’t know how or why this betrayal-”

“Betrayal?” she finally cried out, breaking free from his grasp as Willy rushed between them. “You lot have just poisoned dozens of innocent people, all for a business rivalry, and I won’t-”

“If you want your family not to starve, you had better lower your voice,” he barked.

Every speck of air seemed to leave the room.

“...My family?”

“I may have been distracted enough for the past weeks to ignore the mail that came in and out of our house, but I had not always been that blind. I thought your compassion to be an incomprehensible gesture, but I let it slide. When I felt like it.”

…They haven’t gotten everything I’ve sent.

They haven’t-

“In fact,” he continued, “it served as what was almost a pleasant reminder of the truth. For your family, for your stupid dream, and for your sweetly dependent soul-you need me.”

“If you knew I was poor, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because it’s the same way for me!”

This was the peak of what had been a building explosion, and this was the moment in which they both remembered there were other people in the room.

“What?” the four besides him breathed, almost in unison.

“Oh, you heard right,” Felix launched into speech, the characteristic gestures starting to work their way back into him. “I came from nearly nothing, just the same. But I did what I had to do to climb to the top. I cast them all away, left my old life behind completely, and I suppose it was a foolish hope to think my wife would do the same. But she-but you-you are nothing but a guileless, deceitful bleeding heart.”

“I…”

Tears blurred her vision.

“I am…genuinely sorry that you felt you had to hide your past, but that doesn’t excuse trying to make the rest of the world match your insecurity and fit your little chocolate mold. And if that makes me a bleeding heart…I’m proud of the title.”

For a moment, the man looked as if he would allow his wife’s words to affect him.

Then his face, normally so expressive, turned completely cold.

She’d lost him.

She’d never truly had him to lose.

But she looked at Willy, and she thought of the wash crew, and she realized she finally had a truer support system. And if she could try to start over, find some other way to earn money to send to her family without interception, and some other way to reach the dreams that felt so far away at the moment, she knew Felix would be wrong: she didn’t need him.

After a long silence, Slugworth cleared his throat.

“Get her out of here. We have business with Mr. Wonka.”

What?

Her and the younger man’s eyes widened, and they grabbed each other’s hands on instinct, but a small number of policemen came around the corner of the shop door at Slugworth’s order. They clamped hands on her shoulders and dragged her away from Willy as the Cartel stood silently and watched.

“Wait-wait, no, I-”

“Wren-”

She struggled, fought, kicked, but was forced into the backseat of a police car-

“Let me go, you corrupt bastards-”

“Wren-”

“Let me-”

“Just drop her somewhere in town,” Felix said coolly. “Somewhere that isn’t my home.”

“WREN!”

The car door was slammed, and the last thing she saw was the Cartel advancing on a dazed Willy, opening a suitcase of cash.

All she could do was scream, and the scream turned into a cry.

They did indeed drop her somewhere. She burst out of the car the second it had stopped, and the officers drove away without a word.

Sick with worry and trying to regain her breath, she looked around, almost fainting with relief when she saw the laundry building. Piper, having heard the commotion, stood outside, and they looked at each other for a moment before Wren fell sobbing into her arms.

This is not over.

[buckys-little-belle]

k i know you don’t write for them, but you reblog the marauder boys so much 👀 so i was wondering if you would write for them? i have this idea that the reader has a bad relationship with their family 😭, like never goes home on holidays and never gets mail, never wants to talk about their childhood, and the boys ALWAYS wonder why. remus, because he’s so smart 😌, reads lots of books, and he has heard of regression, and realizes that the reader is one because they want to remember being happy as a kid and when little they feel happy and then maybe the boys ask to be their care giver and let them be a happy baby all the time and remus is happy because he feels so out of control when turned and now he feels good and maybe james is a little? and sirius is the fun dad? and it’s like a little family at hog waters and they just all alllllll are happy?

Happy Family

The Marauders x Little!Reader (They/Them pronouns) (Cg! Remus, Cg!Sirius, Little!James, Little!Reader)

Warnings - Vague talks about family issues, vague talks about childhood trauma, they all eat meals, food, crying, angst, but very much fluff and comfort as well!

Notes - I did change this up a little, just time wise, it’s the same thing, I just know your ask could be decoded and analyzed a different way for a different storyline, this is just what I came up with! I did try my best, I’m super new to writing these three, and I’m very sorry if it’s not good!

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and with this blog, SFW.

- - - - - -

The grand hall was loud, conversations coming from each angle as students ate, the murmur of plates moving, and the sound of footsteps seeming to be constant. The first dinner of the year was always a wild one, new students buzzing, old students getting back together, and people eating as if they had never seen a bread roll before. “Hi, could I sit here?” A voice called out, Remus, Sirius, and James looking up towards the person.

Y/n stood frozen, a deer in the headlights sort of moment, their robes tousled, their eyes panicked. Remus spoke first. “Yah sure.” He said, gesturing to the seat beside himself, James and Sirius opposite of him on the other bench, both shocked that someone was asking to sit instead of just sitting, after all it is one big table full of people. “You’re.” Remus began. “Sorry I forgot your name.” He adds, genuinely embarrassed at his lack of information.

“Um, I’m Y/n, yah I kind of keep to the back of the class, so I don’t expect you to know me.” They hurriedly said, sitting down and reaching for a bread roll, their eyes immediately searching the room.

“Are you okay?” James asked, his eyes following where Y/n had gone, now looking at the Ravenclaw table.

“Oh, Yeah, don’t mind me, sorry for sitting here, I missed the train and someone sat in my usual seat.” They rambled, stuffing the bread roll in their mouth hurriedly.

“Slow down there.” Sirius laughed, watching Y/n eat as if it was their last meal on earth.

“I just want to get out of your way quickly is all.” They muffled, mouth stuffed, looking at Sirius with panicked eyes, hoping they weren’t bothering him.

“If you leave quickly how are we gonna be friends?” James asked, his smile suddenly replaced with a frown, his mind slowly going foggy, wondering if he was doing something wrong.

“Oh.” Y/n said, realizing they hadn’t even taken a second to recognize that the boys weren’t angry at them, that they actually enjoyed their company for some reason.

Remus picked up Y/n’s plate, looking down at them. “What do you want to eat?” He asked, Y/n’s expression growing confused before James interrupted.

“He has long arms s’ he gets our food.” James smiled, digging back in to his dinner.

“I like everything, can you just make sure the foods don’t touch please?” Y/n asked, looking over the different dishes placed along the table as Remus began platting the different foods.

“Hey that’s ten points!” James shouted excitedly, looking at Y/n with pure excitement. “Do I get to share points with them?” He asked, turning to Sirius.

Sirius whispered to James, the boy now back to eating, dropping the prior topic. “Here.” Remus said, handing Y/n the plate, all the foods separated, a good few millimetres between each different one.

“Thank you.” They said as hey began eating too.

“Ten more points.” James whispered, hardly above hearing level.

“So Y/n, what classes do you have this semester?” Sirius asked, the three boys turning their attention to them.

Y/n reached into their pocket, pulling out a tattered piece of paper, one that was wrinkled and had a few rips. “This term I have potions, Apparitions, Herbology, and then.” They paused, pulling the page closer to their face. “I actually don’t know what class I have last, sorry.” They sighed, a wave of defeat washing over them.

“That’s okay, I can get you another paper for tomorrow morning.” Remus said in between his own bites. “Sorry, I don’t think we introduced ourselves I’m-“

“Remus, Gryffindor prefect, your James, Gryffindor’s Quidditch captain, and your Sirius, you-“

“You can stop there.” Sirius smiled, not wanting to know what label he had been given by the general public.

Y/n nodded, placing a bite of food in their mouth and then looked across the room. “Are you looking for someone?” Remus asked, the three boys now looking at the Ravenclaw table, scanning it for whatever Y/n was scanning it for.

“I have a younger cousin, Henry, it’s his first year I just want to make sure he’s okay.” Y/n laughed, the first genuine laugh they had heard from them. “He’s fine, he’s the one standing on the bench there.” Y/n pointed, their finger pointing to a young boy standing on a bench, telling a story very dramatically.

“I wonder what he’s saying.” James asked.

“He’s probably just talking about his dad, he works with dragons.” Y/n mumbled.

“No way!” James yelled. “Actually?”

“Mhm.” Y/n said, clearly not wanting to talk about it, James looking to Sirius when Y/n didn’t perk up at the mention of dragons. “I actually have to go, I have a thing to do.” They stood up, putting their piece of paper back in their pocket and giving a weak smile. “Thanks for the company.”

Before the boys could say anything Y/n had run off, Sirius and Remus sharing an all knowing glance, James just getting back to dinner, knowing ten points awaited him if he ate all of his vegetables.

- - - - - -

“Y/n!” Sirius shouted down the hallway, trying to catch Y/n to give them a new schedule. Y/n finally stopping and turning, looking surprised to see him. “Here.” He said, handing them the paper. “I put a protection spell on it so it shouldn’t get ripped again.” He smiled, slightly out of breath. “Well, Remus did, but he’s not here so I can say I did.” He laughed, making Y/n smile and chuckle in response.

“Thank you, tell him thank you.” Y/n said before turning around again, walking away.

“Why don’t you?” Sirius asked.

“What?” Y/n turned back around.

“At dinner, sit with us again.” Sirius said, standing in the middle of the hallways like a fool, a slight plead evident in his voice.

“I don’t want to-“

“You aren’t going to bother us I promise.” He smiled. “Just think about, okay?” Y/n nodded in response, finally leaving to get to class.

- - - - - -

“Are they coming?” James asked Remus, the boy just shrugging his shoulders as a silent answer.

“Hi.” Y/n said, sitting down beside Remus, just like they had the first night.

“Hi.” The three boys said in unison. Remus talking alone next. “What do you want tonight?” He asked, picking up Y/n’s plate.

“You know you don’t have to put the food on my plate right?” Y/n smiled, the smile not quite reaching their eyes, but seemingly getting the job done.

“I know, I just.” He paused and sighed. “I like taking care of people, so just let me do this.” He smiled, putting food on the plate, making sure the food was separated from each other.

“Wait can you-“ Before Y/n could ask for the food to be separated their plate was put in front of them on the table, the food separated perfectly. “Thanks.” They confusedly mumbled.

“So what did you do last night?” James asked, the two other boys cringing, they wanted to know, sure, but they knew there was a time and a place to ask such personal questions.

“Um, I just read a bit before bed.” They smiled, picking around at the food on their plate.

“Don’t play with your food, darling.” Remus said nonchalantly, as if it was second nature, the nickname shocking Y/n slightly.

“Sorry.” Y/n apologized, looking at their plate to figure out where to start.

“I always eat my veggies first, because then I get ten points.” James whispered loudly, trying to keep his words hidden from Sirius and Remus, but failing to do so.

“What are points?” Y/n asked. “Like house points?” They looked to both Sirius and Remus, flipping between the two, both boys giving each other a look, seemingly arguing with their eyes.

“No, Um.” Remus tried to begin, trying to explain their situation without making Y/n confused.

“What did you read last night?” James blurts out, having checked out of the current conversation a while ago, now just asking whats on his mind.

Y/n, who was mid bite, mouth full of vegetables, eating them because they desperately wanted know what the points meant, something both Sirius and Remus picked up on, paused, their eyes going wide. How do you tell three nice people who are maybe your friends that you read childrens books in your spare time. “Just some short stories.” Y/n answered, proud of their cover up.

Remus chuckled, the excuse exactly what James used to say, before they boys knew he was a little. As if on cue, James began speaking. “Oh, I like short stories too, my favourite is the muggle book ‘Frog and Toad are Friends’!” He smiled before shouting. “Toad Toad!”

“Wake up. It is Spring!” Y/n shouted back, laughing with James, them locking eyes before shouting in unison. “Blah!”

“So you read kids books, in your free time?” Sirius questioned, trying to make sure what he was hearing was right, Y/n immediately shrinking into their seat at the question.

Remus placed his hand reassuringly on Y/n’s back, a gestured allowed by the bench seats having no back rest. “He’s not making fun of you.” Remus gave a quiet chuckle. “Maybe you can borrow some of James’ books.” He offered. “Which books do you have?”

Y/n’s eyes lit up at his words, feeling accepted for the first time. Their mind swirling, finally figuring out that Sirius and Remus were caregivers, James just like Y/n an oddly comforting fact. Quickly though they once again sank back into themselves, their mind telling them they won’t be welcome back after this, the boys most likely not wanting another person to care for. “Um, just the toad one, but I don’t want any others.” Y/n quickly stood up, a few tears gathering in their eyes. “I really don’t want to bother you, thank you for dinner.” They said, before running off once again.

“Why do they do that?” James asked as he saw Y/n practically run out of the grand hall for a second time.

Remus turned his attention back to James, Y/n figure now out of sight. “Well.” He began. “You regress because you had a good childhood and want to feel that happiness again, where Y/n regresses because they had a bad childhood and want to experience being happy when being a kid. It might be hard for them to be happy with us because we remind them of a family and the bad memories of their own.” Remus explained, sounding like he read the words out of a book, because in all actuality most of it did come from a book.

“That’s really sad.” James confessed, laying his head on Sirius’ shoulder. “I hope we get to see them again.” He said, missing the person he had met two days ago, their company already something he longed for.

“Why don’t we buy them a book tomorrow when we go to Hogsmeade?” Sirius suggested, trying to cheer James up, which he successfully did.

- - - - - -

Y/n sat in their dorm room, the castle just gaining back it’s noise, the rest of the students away all day, off shopping, while Y/n did homework and read a book, sad that they couldn’t go, no permission slip signed in sight, but happy for some silence, and no roommates nosing their way around their stuff. “Y/n?” A voice called from behind their bedroom door, a hesitant knock following it.

Y/n stood up, their wand in hand, not sure who would be calling on them, especially since everyone had two more hours left on their trip. Y/n opened the door, peeking from behind the wood, met with the three boys, James upfront, a large bag in his hand, Sirius stood behind him, his hands on the boy’s shoulders, and Remus stood behind the two of them, slightly out of sight.

“Hi?” Y/n cautioned, opening the door more so they could be fully seen.

“Can we come in? We have gifts!” James beamed, walking past Y/n before they could answer, sitting on the floor contently, waiting for everyone else.

“Sorry about him, he’s excited.” Sirius said, walking in, sitting behind James on the floor, his arms going around the boy, whispering something in his ear.

“I’m sorry about the both of them, can we come in?” Remus chuckled, still stood outside of the room, his eyes sincere.

Y/n just nodded, a weary smile on their face, unsure of the reason for the visit. “Sit! Sit!” James cheered, gesturing to the floor in front of him and Sirius, Y/n sitting down quickly opposite of him, Remus sitting beside Sirius instead, the three practically viewing Y/n as if they were on display.

Y/n placed their hands in their lap, their fingers immediately intertwining with each other, fumbling over one another. “How was your trip?” Y/n questioned, trying to ease the awkward silence that had settled.

“It w‘s great!” James began. “We got you this.” He said, handing the paper bag to Y/n, who just placed it in front of themselves, unsure if they should open it right away, their focus stuck on the bag.

“Darling?” Remus questioned, causing Y/n to look up at him, a few tears threatening to spill. Remus frowned, shuffling to sit next to Y/n, his hand now placed on their back. “Why don’t you open it?” He suggested, Y/n nodding.

Y/n reached in, their hands hitting something hard, their fingers grasping a book. “ ‘s the second Frog and Toad book!” James beamed, a large smile plastered on his face. “You din’ want to borrow m’ books, so we got you one.” He mumbled, his back falling further into Sirius’ torso.

Y/n didn’t answer, their sniffle the only sound heard in the room. “I don’ want it.” They whispered, a few tears now rolling down their cheeks as they stood up. “I know you’re jus’ bein’ nice, i’s not fair.” They cried, stepping away from the boys to create distance.

“What do you mean ‘it’s not fair’?” Sirius questioned, sitting up straight, his eyes fixed on Y/n.

“You have James, you don’ want me, an’ you jus’.” Y/n sputtered. “I really like the book, and i’s jus’.”

“Y/n.” Remus began, cutting them off.

“No, i’s unfair, you’re jus’ feelin’ bad f’r me.” They cried, tears streaming down their cheeks as their bottom lip quivered uncontrollably.

“We don’t pity you Love.” Sirius said, his eyes genuine, his tone filled with sorrow. “Me and Remus want to take care of you, you’re sweet, you have great manners, and you get along with James.” He added.

Remus gestured Y/n to sit back down, them taking up the spot right next to him, no longer wanting distance from them. Remus’s hand went to their back, a gesture Y/n had grown to love and look forward to, the feeling comforting. “I know you’re unsure, it’s scary to trust new people.” Y/n nodded their head. “So why don’t we just take it one day at a time, okay?” He asked, his hand rubbing comforting circles on their back.

“C’n I eat wif’ yous at dinner then?” They asked, their gaze meeting each of them, as if asking them each individually.

“YES!” James cheered, genuinely excited for someone to play with. “Please.�� He added.

“You can stick by our sides all you want Love, you’re apart of the family now.” Serious smiled, the rest of them following, the four of them sat their like a bunch of fools, smiling at each other, excited to start the new journey, excited for dinner that night. The little family taking things one day at a time from now on.

[mayakern]

Just jumping in here to add that support - it’s so difficult to find a well-fitting, comfortable skirt when you are fat and that difficulty goes up significantly when you want it to be ADORABLE too.

Ugh and shopping online is JUST as frustrating sometimes because not every size chart is made equal and not every size chart is made accurate. Shops will be like “we are plus-size 😏” and only go up to a 1x (😒) Sometimes I get stuff in the mail that SHOULD have fit but it doesn’t! And that’s so absolutely demoralizing when I already can’t shop at the average fucking store because of my size.

And then prices!!! I can afford it! $60 isn’t chump change for a lot of people - but it is so much more accessible then a lot of shit out there and I feel so fucking grateful that I can purchase what you lay out.

Especially because I love pastel fashion! And you actually have shit I can wear!!!! And it’s not just a basic skirt - (here hello it’s our 18th skirt in the same shade of mauve or plum 😬 just for you larger sized ppl lol) they’re GORGEOUS. They’re varied!!!! They’re different!!!!!!

I have eyed your skirts for such a long time and I finally just bought the beautiful ocean one and I feel SOOOO happy that I can wear something that cute and I feel CONFIDENT it’s going to fit even before it’s here and that I can afford it.

I get where people are coming from with natural fabrics I guess but I feel so protective of you every time that comes up as a consistent complaint because ugh you can’t solve every problem! You’re a small business that’s already doing what you can!

Every time I see this stuff roll across my dash, I’m like “shhh…. shhhh let me buy the pretty and affordable and inclusive skirts in peace, we understand, it’s not gonna happen right now, Maya’s already talked about this….omg look at the pretty waves take my money now.”

Sorry for all my swearing I just!!! You’re doing a good job!!! I swear all of it was just vehement enthusiasm for your good job. 💖💖💖 Thank you for what you do.

aw thank you this is incredibly sweet 🥺🥺

honestly i deal with this in my own life. i’ve been trying to find a cute and comfortable yellow crop top for a summer time version of my wario costume (which i usually wear a turtleneck for) and the shein/romwe/alieexpress listings have infected EVERYTHING making it so hard to search for anything bc all the listings will have a 3X option but then you’ll realize the 3X is, at most, a size 18 👹👹👹

obviously letter sizes mean NOTHING and we try not to use them too much in the store as your precise measurements will always give a MUCH better fit, but still that’s goddamn ridiculous

ANYWAY thank you for the kind words and i hope you love your skirt. also, as a general note, on the off chance one of our garments doesn’t fit you, especially if it is too small, we are always happy to do exchanges (if we have the appropriate size on hand) or returns. i would always rather people have a garment that fits and is comfortable or nothing, vs something they can’t wear.

[luckyqueenreign]

I was wondering about this Wednesday's update. I know that the postcards are coming. I don't think the MC nor Marshall will be in any of the postcards so Fusebox can capitalize on the surprise and maximize the drama. There have already been the raunchy races and the postcards are coming, do you think we will be going back to the Villa this week or do you think we will be at Casa for all 3 episodes? I hope we return to the Villa, but I get the feeling the update will end with a Stick or Twist cliffhanger. What do you think?

IM TIRED. I WANT TO GO HOME!!! It’s been SIX EPISODES ALREADY!!!! I’m not the type to go and send fb hate mail bc I don’t care that deep but I will literally send them hate mail if they keep us in casa for another week. Personally I think the first episode will be all of the girls gathering around the postcard, trying to find out what happened in the hideaway and then whoever you took to the hideaway will try to talk to you to win you back one last time. You might get a chance for one last kiss but then you’re gonna get the text that we’re going back and we need to decide now if we’re sticking or switching. Second episode Time to change the girls are all ahhh mc what are u gonna do (the only time this was actually necessary) Grace is gonna be happy to go back to see Ozzy and will be side eyeing us but also smiling. (Tbh the way they’ve written Grace if you’re on Ozzy route is so bizarre it makes her look fake nice… because she’s genuinely so nice but then is mean mugging you half the time which is justified we’re literally trying to steal her man) the boring ones will go first ie in my playthrough bella and Louie. Then grace and Ozzy then Amelia and Roberto and then finally will be MC and Elliot. Everyone is first gonna be shocked to see marshall and the fact that Ozzy has a hidden twin no one knew about when Amelia brings him back in. But they’re gonna be so shocked, scared, happy MC is back. Episode three… if there’s any dumping it’ll happen here. Diamond choice to hear about what the guy we want did at casa. (Ozzy better have been showing that girl in the postcard the airport in the distance where he will be flying out of to find mc) since it’s late we prob won’t have a chance to have a deep chat with anyone. Maybeeee one of the guys will pull mc but I can’t really see it happening and is getting to talk to anyone we want. Especially since Ivy is back too so I feel like the girls are gonna pull us for a girls chat. Itll end with the girls getting changed for bed, mc goes down to bed and maybe THEN someone pulls us and ends on a cliffhanger.

[midnightbrightside]

Look here’s part of my interpretation of Krisnix

Particularly Phoenix’s feelings towards towards him

My headcanon is the timeline goes a bit like this

Year 1: I don’t know how I got disbarred but Kris is the only one who believes in me so I like him, I’m gonna cling to them for support

Year 2: Ok Kris is looking kind of sus but I’m just gonna ignore that since Edgeworth still hasn’t had time to visit me. Sure there’s something else I’m missing

Year 3: Ok the signs are pointing to Kris but if I just zeno my thinking some other factors/excuses will materialize

Year 4: ok no all the signs are saying he did it out of spite but if I just huff enough copium the facts will change and the only person who’s been able to support me in person and not through time zone screwed phone calls and e-mails won’t be the one who ruined my life

Year 5: Ok so the facts haven’t changed and he’s an asshole but I’ll fix him like I fixed Edgeworth. He says he cares about me so it must be true (after all wanting something to be true really badly makes it true right?) I’ll fix him!

Year 6-7: ok being around him is very weird and I’m upset he disbarred me but I need to figure out what his tragic background is so I can fix him, then I can reform the court system and he can be like Edgeworth except he doesn’t leave me for Europe 😤

*Kris commits murder*

Phoenix: … so I guess I can’t fix him :/

I genuinely think for a least a while Nick had to have some kind of fix it mindset with him

I mean Edgybaby was said to have forged evidence and Nick didn’t really care. I really think murder was the final nail in the coffin

Thoughts? Is this a valid timeline? I know some people like it where Nick realizes what happened immediately and just hated Kris internally all 7 years but to me that’s boring

I have even more complicated thought of Kris’ thoughts of Nick so look out

this is so real and also mostly how i see phoenix' s thoight process tbh!! especially the years of ignoring red flags only to then try and "fix him", he'll drag out the denial as long as possible. besides hes dealt w corrupt guys before, he was willing to give edgeworth for a lot, and its very possible he didnt know kristoph was capable of murder until turnabout trump.

and fuck how DEVASTATING must that be? to spend years knowing someone intimately and being willing to overlook all of the signs because the support and companionship they offer is more reliable and consistent than anything youve had before? only to end up feeling like you dont know them at all (might be working on a little drawing about that atm actually 👁👁 work is hell tho and slowing me down so much)

[frodo-with-glasses]

More Reading Thoughts: “The Land of Shadow”

Ding dong, finally moving on to a new chapter! I know it actually wasn’t a long time, but feels like we spent so long in the Tower of Cirith Ungol…but now on to new territory!

Two sentences in and Frodo is already trying to chuck himself off a cliff LOL 🤣🤣

“Well, here goes, Mr. Frodo. Good-bye!” Sam really is Mr. Guess I’ll Die in these chapters, isn’t he?

Suddenly: BUSHES

Having gone walking in the desert in Arizona and still finding burrs in my sneakers months later, I can confirm that thorns are little spawns of the devil in plant form.

And then they both have a lie-down. Or Frodo has a lie-down, and Sam has a nap. Good. They need it.

Fjshdskfj this whole thing about the mail coat is. Aaaahh. It’s frickin’ killing me. I can’t believe I glossed over it when I was a kid. Frodo like “I’m too weak to go on wearing this” and Sam like “but we have to protect you somehow” and Frodo like “it’s no use, I don’t have the strength, I’m sorry, please don’t think I’m ungrateful, I know you went through a lot of effort to get it for me” and Sam like “oh my word, don’t worry about me! I’m the one who’s supposed to be worrying about you!” and I just. Nnnnggaahh! They *clenches fist* love each other so much I’mma frickin’ die

Also, “Don’t talk about it, Mr. Frodo. Bless you! I’d carry you on my back, if I could.” FOOORESHADOWING!!

Frodo has a Nazgûl detector. Side effect of the Morgul Blade, perhaps??

THAT REFERENCE TO THEODEN THO. HECK.

The Witch King has just been slain! No wonder the weather is changing in Mordor! Aw, man, if only Frodo and Sam knew what Merry had just helped to do…they’d be so proud, bro.

Sam: “Don’t you feel better?” Frodo: “No, not really.”

Pfffft way to be a downer, Frodo 🤣

WATERRRRRR!!

HECKIN’. WATERRRRRR!!!!

AAAAAHHHHHH I could cry 🤣🤣

Sam like “let me try it first” and Frodo like “:-( but I’m thirsty too” and Sam like “I know that, but I’m trying to test if it’s poisonous” fjshjdks they’re hilarious

Water in the desert. Heck. Frickin’. Do I need to restate how much water is a symbol of hope and rest and restoration and life in this story?? Heck to the frick frickin’ heck.

I love how just the presence of plant life in Mordor makes me feel like that’s a victory somehow. Like “HECK YES, STICK IT TO THE MAN, YA BALLSY LITTLE TREES, YOU GO!!”

Sam holding Frodo’s hand to try to keep himself awake 🥺

THE STAR BETWEEN THE CLOUDS!! HECK! So this is where that passage comes from! “In the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach”, AAAAAHHHHH—

Also the hobbits sleeping hand in hand is very cute but also. Sam. Sam you’re supposed to be on guard duty LOL

Good to know Aragorn’s distractionating is working.

Frodo is. Such a downer. I love him so much you guys. 🤣 “The whole thing is hopeless. There’s no way we’re gonna make it. Welp, let’s do this.”

This is what Peter Jackson’s trilogy got right when they had Gimli say, “Certainty of death, small chance of success—what are we waiting for?” It’s played for laughs there, but that really is the defiant optimistic pessimism that surrounds this story. It’s glorious. Gritty, stubborn, desperately clinging to life, bruised and bloody-knuckled and exhausted but still breathing, and clawing forward inch by inch if that’s all it can do. Relatable as heck, and inspiring like nothing else. Lord give me defiance like that.

Yooooo but that spat between the orcs tho. Now we know Gollum is still around, and nabbed Frodo’s mail shirt, and that word has reached the orcs that the Witch King is dead….and also orcs are ranked by numbers?? Very sophisticated. Very dehumanizing. Very Evil Overlord Army.

Sam hates Gollum with every thread of his being. And for good reason, too.

Frodo hears Sam’s whole story, and when it’s finished, he says nothing, but “took Sam’s hand and pressed it”.

I am. I am going buckwild about this. Didn’t I say that Frodo’s love language is Words of Affirmation, and Sam’s are Acts of Service and Physical Touch?? But here—here Frodo’s love language fails. He has no words left. He’s too exhausted. His love language offers him nothing. So he uses Sam’s.

I am. I am going to throw something. Scream. Cry, maybe. I just. AAAAAAAAAHHHHH—

“I’ll try and be a bit quicker, Sam.” FRODO I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT I WOULD KILL FOR YOU—

Sam just letting Frodo eat and drink the last of their store, and sleep on his own cloak, is. So much. Sam. You beautiful, self-sacrificial little saint, I would die for you (but you would probably insist on dying first).

Ooh, Gollum tried to come take the Ring while Sam was away getting water. Gaaaahhh, this is a so suspenseful.

Aaaand Frodo drank all the water LOL

Well, they’re caught. Here goes. Only about a page left to the chapter…

Oh! So the whole “hit me, start fighting” thing was invented by the movies. Makes sense. Couldn’t be too exciting, after all.

And what we have learned, kids, is that we can credit the survival of Middle Earth to the fact that Mordor doesn’t have traffic lights.

[astrronomemes]

CLOUD CULT: LIGHT CHASERS STARTERS (PART II)

a collection of lyrics taken from Cloud Cult’s Light Chasers album. change & alter as needed.

“It’s time for us to go.”

“We just need to get away.”

“We left all we own in a hole in our backyard.”

“I need to feel something different for just a little while.”

“I’m not coming home.”

“You can burn all my mail, and disconnect my phone.”

“Tell Mom I’m sorry.”

“I’m staying where I’m at.”

“We’re gone, and we’re never coming back.”

“If, for just a moment, you had to be responsible for all the things you’ve said and done, would you sit back and relax, or fasten all your safety belts?”

“Everybody’s judgment comes.”

“I blame everything just to keep my hands clean.”

“You need to be responsible for all the things you’ve said and done.”

“It’s not that easy to explain.”

“It’s far too easy to explain.”

“It is what it is.”

“You are what you are.”

“Just try to enjoy your day.”

“Please say it can’t be done.”

“Please say you can’t help me.”

“I’m gonna make it through. You’ll see.”

“I swear I’ll prove you wrong.”

“You haven’t seen the last of me.”

“It’s not impossible. You’ll see.”

“You’ve never been inside my head.”

“Let come what may come, and let go of what goes.”

“Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me!”

“Don’t worry. Don’t worry.”

“I feel like the sun.”

“I may have worries, but I’m not going crazy.”

“I can’t breathe unless you’re in my air.”

“When old age calls, we’ll share a rocking-chair.”

“The fuel is nearly spent.”

“Check the maps again.”

“We’re so close to it... so very close to it...”

“We still have energy in us.”

“Let’s get those engines lit!”

“The mission is over now.”

“I didn’t mean what I said.”

“I love you more than this.”

“I finally see it.”

“We were always close to it. So very close to it.”

“There’s so much energy in us.”

[jodilin65]

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 31, 1997 I had a thought, and it wasn’t a very pleasant one either. It’s common knowledge that major changes to the body, be it good or bad, can be quite shocking to it and therefore, cause irregularities. Well, as I’ve said, the Navane and other garbage they had me on when I was in my teens, knocked my period out of the picture for nearly 3 years. This not smoking has caused me to gain weight and be more constipated than usual, and now I’m wondering what it’s gonna do to my cycle.

Tom went down on me earlier and I didn’t even taste “off.” Usually, right before my period, I taste a bit bitter, he says. Well, I’m still 100% sure I’ll have it before the 1st, but I sure do hope to hell I’m not wrong about that, cuz if my cycle disappears, I’m gonna keep gaining weight for damn sure.

Later…

Still no period, but anytime now.

So far, I’ve been wonderfully wrong about the dog returning and even he hasn’t been around much lately, although Tom said he did see a car next door late at night. Tonight, there isn’t one that I know of, so that’s nice. No music lately, either.

We left about an hour before sundown and stopped for a bite to eat at Dairy Queen. Then we went to the mall and oh my God! Traffic and the mall were sooooo mobbed. A lot of the kids go trick or treating at the mall cuz it’s safer.

Tom didn’t find anything for himself, but with my spending money, I got two really nice journals. One with A tie-dye cover and one with bobcat fur (fake, of course). Three colorful hair scrunchies, and that hair removal system that I was gonna get through the mail. We found it in an “as seen on TV” store. So far, the Agia (hair removal system), is a disappointment. I thought it was too good to be true. This is just so far, though, and it may be more promising than I realize now. I didn’t know this, but according to Tom, hair can hang on after death. This means that after I zap the hair with the tweezers, the hair doesn’t want to let go and fall out right away. It says to do this for 20-40 seconds, but it’s taken me many minutes to remove just a couple of tit hairs. They did say though, that if hairs are resistant, to try again the next day. I hope it’ll work out, and if it does, it’ll take me till I’m 60 to get half the hairs I want removed.

We also stopped to look at the bed we’re gonna be getting. This bed is so cool too, as each side has an air mattress inside and you can use controls to make your side either really soft or super firm. I laid down on it and had him toss around on the other side and could only feel very little movement. I think this will work out great and I’m so excited about it. The only thing I’m not looking forward to is you know what. Same old shit as far as sex goes. I’m used to it, although he keeps insisting that we’ll get the bed and all will work out in sex and pregnancy. He sounds so sure of himself! Does he know something I don’t?

Tom also told me that when we switch insurance, which we’re about to do, I can tell a new GYN I may go to that we just started trying. That way I don’t have to lie and say we’re using rubbers, nor do I have to say we haven’t used anything for the last few years and get pressured with questions and all that shit like with Dr. Rugg. Well, I’m not about to be visiting any crotch doctors. I don’t need to. But if we did have the bed for a while, and had things end up the same just like I see, then what would Tom suggest I tell a crotch doctor if I saw one? I guess I’d have to say we use rubbers. That’d be best and the easiest way to get around any personal questions I don’t want to answer and deal with, but hopefully I’ll never have to see one again. I’d never seen one again unless I was pregnant, and then afterward too, but that’s not gonna happen.

Anyway, as soon as we get the Visa card we’re waiting for, he’ll call an 800 number and order the bed for UPS to ship us. Then we’ll go get this matching comforter/sheet set we saw at Sears, where Bob Vila was signing autographs. This guy with a show on home repairs.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 30, 1997 The dizziness and the cravings may have let up a bit, but I didn’t escape the weight gain that almost everyone goes through when they quit. I’m up to a fucking 112 pounds! And the fact that I’m stuck and haven’t gotten my period yet doesn’t help, but I realized I may have miscounted by a day. I think I’m due for my period tomorrow. I have to be, cuz I’m almost never late, so I’ll definitely get it by tomorrow if I don’t start by tonight.

I hope Tom’s right when he says he thinks that the dog isn’t coming back. He thinks they got rid of it when the city started tearing up their yard. Well, that would go with their uncaring nature, to give up a dog like that that they never even wanted, but what about me? I’d still think the burden of the dog would be way worth it to them, just to bother me.

There also hasn’t been a car there when Tom left for work, for two nights in a row. I hope that’s a good sign and this is the same time last year that he slowly began to disappear, only coming around every 2-4 weeks. I wish they’d just break the fuck up for good! If I am in for another peaceful winter till April or May, God’s gonna compensate me for it, just like he compensated me for last winter’s peace by making sure he came back to slam doors, then start with the music again, all the while the dog was yipping away. Well, I’ll pay for it later, since I’ve got to pay for every little thing. And that includes the late-night banging I’ve been doing. Well, I’m not gonna be doing it anymore till and if the music and dog are a real problem again. Also, after I woke up halfway through my sleep to pee, I had a hell of a time falling back to sleep and I know why.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 29, 1997 Tom said he thinks he heard a cement mixer over there filling in their patio and that they’ll be done this week. I think they finished up about an hour ago. The vans are gone and so is the yellow tape (like a crime scene tape barrier) that was tied up to warn people not to fall into the deep trenches they had. So, this means that the dog will be back any minute now, but by the weekend for sure.

So, with my share of the money we agreed to take to spend for fun, I’m gonna buy a box fan for the back room, since the AC one isn’t always gonna be loud enough to block out the barking. Especially the late-night barking. See, this is what I mean when I say I’m so sick of being controlled by others and how I have to “pay” for their noise and alter my life, while they go about their business without a care in the world. I don’t just feel like I’m paying $16 for a box fan that could have good uses that don’t involve anyone else’s noise, but I feel like I’m paying them this $16. I’m always the one to pay.

Meanwhile, the dog’s gonna come back and so will the music and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it, cuz Tom won’t let me beat them into submission and cuz this letter he may never send, won’t do shit to stop them. I know when God wants me to fight a fight I can win and when he doesn’t.

I don’t want no fans on from 6 PM-2 AM. But cuz of someone else’s dog, I must have them on so I don’t have to be forced to listen to it.

My “good vibes” about the freeloaders are gone, so as I said, this was all it was about. No one’s moving out of there, I’m sure. If they don’t in the next few months, then they should be here for a long time. I still say they’re not gonna want to give up a subsidized house that easily and the city’s gonna really have to fight to push them out of there. That’s part of it. The other part is that I don’t think they want to leave my side so easily, either, cuz contrary to Tom’s belief, I know they have a ball with sticking their music/dog on me. Another part is that they just don’t care. They don’t care to work a little harder to get out of there and they don’t give a shit about those around them, at the same time they do give a shit about pissing me the fuck off.

I’m gonna go to a Walgreens later to get the fan and to check out their cactus mugs. I saw some the last time I was there that are way nicer than the one I’ve got, and the one I’ve got is nice enough as it is.

Oh, one more thing about the freeloader - I think his latest game is to harass me with his car alarm. I’m not sure about this yet, cuz now my schedule’s in such a way that I’m not up early in the mornings, but there were a few days where I’m pretty sure I heard an alarm go off a few times at early hours. Tom said some other car that was over there did that, but I think that gave El Cocko an idea. We’ll just have to wait and see what he does when he gets back and if it’ll be him or the dog that I’ll have to listen to, or both. He should be banging in anytime now, but this freeloader’s schedule varies.

I’ve got a great library book I’m reading now. An excellent ghost story. So I think I’ll go do some reading for now.

Later…

Just got back from Walgreens where I didn’t find any cactus mugs or box fans. Instead, I found something better than cactus mugs at a dirt cheap, utterly shocking price. I got two cactus figurines made of Plaster of Paris. The white one I got, is the same as the one I got that I painted green, but this one makes mine look sick. It’s got a pink color scheme with a floral bandanna tied around its middle, flowers on the tips of its arms, a vase of flowers by its base, and at the other side of its base, is a figure hunched over with a sombrero. This gave me some ideas for mine, which just has a boring gold chain around its middle. I’ll keep the chain, but I’ll glue some flowers I have on it. I have a wicker jug filled with all kinds of flowers that have been sitting in the music room for ages.

They each cost $10 and the second one’s even more breathtaking. It’s bigger and has more on it. A person hunched over with a sombrero is also on this one and it has flowers, vases, and a coyote with a bandanna around it, all in a really nice bowl that’s 4-5 inches in diameter.

I also got a light pink pair of panties and a deep purple pair. A pink fly swatter, too, since ours ripped.

Tom will soon pick up a box fan (not using my spending money), as well as a Nicorette refill.

Afterward, we stopped at a fast-food place and then came home.

As far as the freeloaders, I heard soft music and a lot of car doors. Then later I heard a car leave with no music. There was no car there when we got back, but I just heard a very loud door slam, so I take it he’s back. What’s weird, though, is that Tom said he didn’t see a car there when he left to go to work at 12:30 last night. At 1:00, I went out and did my rock-banging routine I’m gonna do when I’m up late at night but I guess only she got to hear it if she heard it at all. God may have spared her from hearing it.

The decrease in music and increase in door slamming tells me the dog is on its way back. It’ll be here tomorrow and if not, it’ll definitely be here by the weekend.

More shocking news - my period’s gonna be on time this month. Tomorrow will be the 28-day marker, so I’m 100% sure I’ll get it then cuz I’m almost never late.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 28, 1997 I got my congratulations for not smoking for 3 weeks postcard yesterday. The sad thing about it is that the cravings seem to be getting more powerful. If I’m having powerful urges several times a day at this point, then this is how it’s always gonna be. Tom says it’ll get easier and I hope he’s right, but it doesn’t seem like he will be at this point. I let Marla know I quit, too, and she said she quit smoking after 10 years back in the late 70s. She said it was the hardest thing she ever did.

Once again, I wish there were 3 people to quit for and he keeps saying that there will be and that I won’t even consider returning to smoking by the New Year. Is he ever gonna get over it?! No bed or lack of money worries is gonna change the way he is sexually and the fact that either his conscious or subconscious or both, doesn’t want a kid, and the fact that God doesn’t want me having one. As much as I wish Tom and God could prove me wrong about the sex/kid, just like with getting out here, getting off disability, getting married, and quitting smoking for this long, I just can’t see it.

He says we can still check out and get that bed, but can we? I’ve always known that something up there wants me to work all the harder for the things that are normal and more common, and yesterday’s ordeal proved that. Something’s trying to stall us, that’s for sure. And if we do get the bed, what price will we have to pay for it, besides about $1000?

As far as what the scoop is next door, well it’s pretty weird. First of all, I’m pretty sure that at least he’s been living there all weekend, but the nice thing about it is that I haven’t heard any music since last Saturday. So, I don’t know if this means he’s decided to shut up again or if the music’s been played while I was out, asleep, or under headphones.

Tom’s guess was that the big tree that they’ve got in back (that makes a mess of our yard with its leaves) had roots that got in the way of the sewer pipes, so it fucked up their drains, but it can’t be that bad for him to have stayed there the last couple of nights unless he’s shitting and pissing in a container. Maybe (if the bitch and kids aren’t there and they’re at a friend’s house), he wasn’t liked or welcome over there, or they got into a fight and this was the only place he could go till she returned, but I don’t know. I do know, though, that the music wouldn’t just suddenly stop again so soon and that the dog’s gotta be back sooner or later. I don’t think any of them are moving after all. I think that my vibe had to do with the work they’ve been doing and the temporary absence of the dog, which I’m thoroughly enjoying till the peace is shattered. It’s been pretty peaceful through the days and totally quiet at night, but when that beast gets back, I’ll have to sit and listen to it from dusk till the wee hours of the mornings. As I told Tom, in case he does send a letter to the city, Loverboy is a no-no, but she may be allowed a dog. The NHA allowed you to have one cat or one dog, but they had to be of a certain height/weight.

The story gets even weirder cuz yesterday, they didn’t work at all next door. They’ve been there today, though.

Soon, I’ll be doing a general shopping list for things I’d like to get with what money’s left over after deducting the electrolysis cost and the new cage I just got. I haven’t gotten the electrolysis thing yet, but I got that other cage Play City makes, so now I have all 3 of them. Their big cage is called Play City, their medium cage that I just got is the Town House and the little cage that Mary gave me when I had Gizzy the mouse, is the Fun House. Teddy Bear’s got the aquarium and the Play City and Gizzy have the other two.

Speaking of Gizzy, if anyone ever wanted to rent a paper shredder to destroy any documents, they wouldn’t need to. All they’d have to do is just give it to Gizzy. Instead of eating the paper like the other guys do, he shreds it up to make a nest to burrow in. I think that the reason he likes shredded paper better than sawdust is cuz it’s lighter and that way he doesn’t feel as smothered by burrowing in it.

I gave him a handful of small colorful papers that I had used to write Andy a batch of funny notes to pass out, cuz I thought it’d be nice to see all the pretty colors shredded up and mixed together. I told Andy I’d write new ones up, but then I got a better idea which I began earlier. I inserted frames in a miscellaneous document of mine and then inserted all kinds of different fonts for the text. So, he’ll just have to cut the boxes of funny lines and sayings out and distribute them that way. I’m pretty sure he’ll like this.

I’m also rearranging and reorganizing my convo tapes and labeling them more specifically. So, instead of just writing “Fran & Nervous” when their fights come up, I’ll be more specific and write what the argument was about. That way, if I want to find a certain convo, I can find it easier this way. I’m trying to group different people together too, on the same tapes, rather than have things all mixed in together.

Later…

Well, the bitch is definitely next door. Once again, I don’t see how they can live there with all the shit that’s going on there, but I just heard her being dropped off. And the van is still out there too, so I couldn’t see her cuz she was behind it, but I could hear her. She said something like, “Girl, you just don’t know…” Typical black talk. Then after another minute, the sick black fuck said goodbye to her gal pal and that’s it. He isn’t here yet, but I’m sure he’ll let me know when he arrives cuz like I said, he’s not gonna just suddenly shut up this fast. I just dread the day the dog returns! I wish I could say they gave it away, but I know better. It’s at some friend or relative’s house. Even if they did give it away, they’ll just go out and get another beast.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 27, 1997 Today, my first journal is 10 years old, but unfortunately, my 10-year writing anniversary isn’t going very well. It could be much worse, but a little something happened, just as I saw it would.

Tom was gonna take me to Red Lobster, then we were gonna go look at two different beds, but what did God to stall us and remind me that normalcy just isn’t allowed when it comes to intimate issues? He made sure the axle on the car broke! If God did anything good at all, it was to make sure we didn’t break down way the hell out on Bell Road or something. We broke down a block away and pushed the car back. At every other house, there would be a dog in its yard waiting to let us have it as we passed by. It sounded like a fucking kennel all down the block. People are so cruel!

So now Tom’s taking a bus to his ma’s house to get his car, but his car is fucked up too, as God’s made sure that this family and cars, just don’t go together. He has to push his car, then jump in and push the clutch, in order to get it to start.

Can I ever be with someone who doesn’t drive a piece of shit? Kacey had a nice car, but Ron, Brenda, and everyone I’ve been friends with, except for Kim, drove shitty, beat-up cars.

Regardless of fate stopping and stalling our plans to remind me that there’s a price to pay for meddling with fate if you can, things could be much worse. A decade ago, I was living in a deadly neighborhood, with neighbors ripping me off, and with a bundle of nerves for a friend, with lots of cold and snow, and all kinds of problems.

In other news, I got some more books when I was at Ma’s yesterday, the cravings and dizziness still get pretty fierce, and I’ll update the freeloaders later, but we have no idea what the hell’s going on with them.

Later…

It’s so nice and peaceful out now. Not even the guard dogs are going off every few minutes. It’s sad to know that in just a matter of time, I’ll have to listen to the freeloader’s dog for hours at a time.

Anyway, Tom’s gone to get me some Chinese food to salvage the day, so I’ll write more later.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 25, 1997 God, am I lightheaded! This is getting to be a constant thing and it's really annoying. Is this from not smoking? Or is this from the gum? The literature said that dizziness is a symptom people have within the first few days of quitting. It's been 3 weeks, though. You can also get dizzy from an overdose of nicotine, but I'm not even close to that. I doubt very much it's an ear infection, so what the fuck is it? I hope it goes away real damn soon.

El Cocko made his first needless trip over here today about an hour ago. He let me know it loud and clear and I'm sure he'll be back again. And again. And again. And again. So, this weekend will be no different than any other weekend will be (unless they bring back the dog and don't continue with the music), but they can't party and right now, I don't have to listen to their dog now either.

I'd write more, but I just feel too out of it to write now, so I'll do it later.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 24, 1997 Still working away next door. Tom’s guessing now that it could be sewers that they’re working on.

The freeloader came in at around 8 PM last night to get some stuff and he let me know it. Not too loud, but I still heard him. Hopefully, they won’t be able to return this weekend and hopefully, they won’t blast in 8 times a day to get shit over the weekend, either. I wouldn’t put that past them, though, and even if they didn’t need something, they’d come over in regard to me anyway.

Tom said that he’s gonna send the letter off about a week after the construction people leave so that the city doesn’t think we mistook the sounds of the stereo for work they’re doing. He also told me he doesn’t do something to fail and that he’s not gonna send the letter to make me happy (although that’ll be one of its side effects), he’s gonna send the letter to get results. Well, I hope so and that he’s not being unrealistically confident like he tends to be. I told him, though, that if it doesn’t work - he at least tried, and that’s what matters. I also reminded him of God’s insistence that I deal with other people’s noise, too. He says that he thinks she was never moving, but he doesn’t know about him or the dog. Also, he’ll mention the dog too, if it does return. Oh, I’m sure it will. He, dog, and music, will return. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t stop the music cuz I had the dog to listen to, too. I’m sure they’ll want to give me a double whammy to catch me up on lost dog/music time.

Speaking of being made to catch up on lost phone and waiting time - the pest is back. First he calls while I’m cleaning. I call him back and he said he’ll call me back in 5 minutes after he put in a load of laundry. Instead, I wait and wait and put my shit on hold while he decides to stuff his face with food. Then we finally talked, and of course, he had to be a pest later on, too, and call twice at night.

He didn’t have time to fill me in on his trip, but he said it was great.

He got fired from his job over the sexual harassment thing and has to go job hunting. He even admits he’s guilty too, so hopefully he’ll learn to shut up in his next job. You gotta be real damn desperate, though, to sexually harass a guy you’re not even attracted to. Andy wouldn’t kid me about that part, either, but how could you sexually tease someone you don’t even want? If he ever gets fired again for the same thing, I hope it’s over someone he felt was gorgeous, and makes it more worth it.

Andy also said he was really proud of me for not smoking, but boy I’ll tell you, yesterday was a bad day. I really had some pretty frequent and powerful urges and I told Tom I’d give it till January (after I let time prove he’s full of shit for the thousandth time over this kid he says I’ll conceive by the end of December), then see whether or not I want to keep not smoking.

Around the same time I stopped smoking, I sure have been getting a lot of dizzy spells. Yesterday we put alcohol and peroxide in my ear, in case it’s an inner ear infection, so hopefully, that’ll improve. Dizziness is part of quitting, though, cuz the brain’s getting all this extra oxygen it’s not used to yet.

When I was on SS, they used to harass me with these bullshit overpayment notices at set intervals. Well, I’ve been done with them for over 3 years now, but they still harass me with these bullshit overpayment notices. This is the same notice I’ve gotten before where they’re trying to claim I owe them $32.

Tom’s out now taking his ma to her doctor’s appointment. She sent home two Dean Koontz books for me yesterday. One of them I already read, so he’s gonna give it to Mary who’s having him work like crazy on her car during the poor guy’s vacation. She’s paying him real damn well, though. I don’t know if I’ll like the other one, but hopefully I will. Ma got two big boxes of books from Bobby, so I’ll have to go over and check them out sometime.

Ma also sent home a sandwich maker. I guess it’s for making grilled cheese sandwiches.

This Sunday, my parents, Tammy, Larry, Kim and more, will be just two hours later than us and not 3 since our clocks never change here.

Mama Cat and the kittens are still not as fearful of me as they were at first, but they’re not running up to be petted and played with, either. The kittens are so cute when they play together. At first, they always used to be at the side of the house and sometimes they still play there, but for the most part, they stay by the hedges that are almost parallel to the patio. The clothesline is right in front of these hedges and the hedges are against the block wall that separates our yard from the freeloaders. I hung a couple of pieces of yarn from the clothesline for them to play with. And I no longer have their food/water dishes by the hedges. I have them just at the start of the patio and I’ll move it closer to the door little by little and see if they get more used to me and more friendly.

Bunny’s outside now and will spend most of his days out there cuz this is the perfect time of year for that and he won’t want to come in till sundown.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 23, 1997 The construction people just arrived for the day next door. We’re still not sure what they’re doing, but we also don’t see how El Cocko or anyone could be living over there. They’ve got the whole backyard torn up. So, that explains the packing of the trunk I saw and the absence of the dog and my vibe. But does this mean they’re all moved out and not coming back? Or does it mean that they’ll be back with no dog but with music? Or does it mean that they’ll be back with the dog and but with no music? Or does it mean that they’ll be back to stick me with a double whammy of both dog and music? If they don’t come back, will it stay a city-owned house or will a buyer get it? And what type of problems will the next family bring if a new family does move in, be it owners or subsidized people?

Did that freeloader return to his music for those several days that he did, cuz he said, “Fuck it. We’re out of here anyway.” Or did he return to the music cuz of the dog being gone? Perhaps it was both, but the music did start right when the dog left.

Later…

Right now Tom’s amazing me with his determination and commitment to cleaning out the patio storeroom.

According to Tom, who tried to get us online, it’s not AOL that’s the problem. It’s our modem. So he may get us a new one. That’s right God, just keep on breaking our stuff.

We screwed earlier and of course, nothing’s changed with that, although we have had sex more often lately. That’s how it sometimes is, but I still have to see the bed and lack of money worries be his cure to believe it. He said that if I weren’t pregnant by January or February, then he’d wonder if something was up with one of us and discuss us getting the first stages of the basic testing going and that we’ll also be switching insurance soon and he’ll make sure we get the one that offers the best of the baby-making and baby caring stuff. Right! I know him and I know that come January or February, his excuse to do nothing will be cuz we didn’t get the opportunity to screw much. And there’ll be reasons why he just couldn’t cum that much yet. And of course God will help this along and ensure that something does come up to get in our way of keeping up with the sex and shit like that.

Also amazingly, I’m still not smoking, but I still have strong urges. They usually don’t last long at all, but they can be pretty damn annoying and it seems like today they’ve been more frequent. Tom disagrees, but I think that this is the way it’s gonna be from now on if I continue not to smoke. I think it’s pretty much tapered off to being how it’ll be and that it’ll be on my mind on and off and that I’ll have about 10-15 urges a day. It’ll be OK as long as I can keep from smoking. If I have to think about it, I’ll be OK if I can just think and not do.

They’re still working next door, doing God only knows what. When I went to see the cats that sit right by the block wall, I could smell cigarette smoke. I instinctively backed away, without really thinking about it. I guess that’s good. It’s a pity, though, that these houses have to be that close, although smells aren’t a problem to live with like noise is. However, if I had one of the bedroom windows open while someone was sitting in their living room smoking with an open window, I’d smell it easily.

Later…

The two guard dogs have been quieter. Something I surely can’t complain about. They’re usually barking up a storm during the days at this time of year.

Still working next door. However, I don’t see the construction vans at this time. I just see a purple pickup out front, but I heard a couple of guys talking over there. Who the hell they are, beats me, and why this truck is there instead of the vans, beats me, too. I’d say that yes, they definitely weren’t living over there the last 2-3 days. Like I said, he was packing the trunk after all. We’re pretty sure no one can live there while they’re doing whatever they’re doing, cuz it looks like they’d have to shut off the water or the electricity or both. I’d guess that this will be their last day there, so now all we have to do is see if the freeloaders return. I wonder if this few-day absence was all I was “vibing” after all. If the freeloaders do return, whether or not it’s with the dog, boy are they gonna let me know it! I’m sure they’ll come blasting in as that’ll be their way of saying, “I’m back!” Everyone wants attention and to be heard, anyway. Everyone wants others to know they’re there, that’s for sure.

I hope it’ll go to buyers if the freeloaders really are gone, but I somehow doubt that they are gone. If it went to buyers, the people would be a little more likely to give a damn about others around here, than welfare bums, and the house may stay empty for a while in between, giving me time to get Andy to get me a good lock for that hoop. If the freeloaders are gone, and if the city keeps the place, the new batch of welfare scums will be moving in there in just a matter of days. In fact, if it was known that the freeloaders would be gone as of a few days ago when they started tearing the place up, it’s already been re-rented, and if they’re done today, then tomorrow we’ll probably see the new batch of scums move in. If not, then by early next week at the latest we will.

Later…

They’re still working next door and Tom and I still don’t have a clue as to what they’re doing. From the looks of it, though, Tom’s certain that I’ve got days, even weeks, before the freeloader returns. I shall enjoy the peace till their return and return they will since Tom saw that the kid’s toys are still out front. Aside from the fact that they’re no doubt pretty sure that the noise going on is pissing me off and getting a kick out of that (but the noise isn’t pissing me off. It would if it woke me up, though), they are gonna be so anxious to get back here cuz the days that pass where they couldn’t piss me off are gonna really get to them. Boy, are they gonna live it up with the music, dog and maybe even both when they return. They are not happy about my not being able to hear from them, I can assure you that much.

Another thing that we saw was that they didn’t enclose their yard.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 22, 1997 Oh, those assholes at AOL! Always a problem with them. Alex finished reading the Oswego and Woodside journals and is ready for me to send more, yet I can’t even do that.

When Tom was in the military, his superior was trying to fuck him out of time off that was rightfully his. Everyone told him that there wouldn’t be a damn thing he could do about it, either, but they were wrong. So, he insists that there is something that can be done about next door’s music. Of course, one will get the run around if you try calling a government office over the phone, but government letter correspondences cannot be destroyed; they must legally be dealt with, etc.

Tom just doesn’t understand what it’s like to be under the influence of a God who insists she lives with other people’s noise day in and day out, year after year. He doesn’t believe in fate, he’s tolerant of noise, and he doesn’t understand that there are consequences for trying to fight what the Gods have ordered. Noise is just what the Gods have ordered. And there’s just no escaping it. Just like I told Tom, who agreed that this was possible, even if they moved right now, some new source of shit and noise is gonna move right in there. The only way out of it is to live more secluded, but I don’t know if God will ever allow us to do that. And what if I could? What if I could live where our neighbors were off in the distance and couldn’t be a problem for us as far as noise went? What would God do to me to compensate for my getting around him? If you try to get around fate or if you do get around fate, there’s always a price to pay for it.

Later…

Another thing I said would happen that did happen was based on how God doesn’t give without taking. He let me let myself give my lungs back to me and in exchange for it, he gave me the music for taking the pain of the cigarettes from me. This all goes to prove that no, God will not reward me with a child for quitting smoking. Why is it that it seems that the more people do bad, the more you get rewarded for that? I don’t, but it seems that most get rewarded with great things for being bad, but those that deserve great things more, just never get them. I may not be as desperate for a child as I once was, but I’d still take it if I could get it. I’m just not gonna go out of my way to try to get it (a doctor) cuz I know it won’t get me anywhere and if it did, I know how fucked up that kid would come out. He’s not gonna give that to someone who’s wanted that for years without a serious drawback to it. The price of that may very well be something that’d kill us both to have to pay.

Another thing that’s really sad about this unfair world and about God too, is that it’s one thing to do shit to get shit back that you deserve, but it’s another to not do shit and still get shit, anyway.

Later…

Got an update that may make my vibe about a change next door make sense.

Since 7 AM those construction trucks have been over there and this time, what they did would’ve woken me up for sure, had I been asleep. In fact, I’m sure next door is laughing their asses off about it, assuming it woke me up or pissed me off.

I never heard next door leave this morning, but they would’ve had to have left before 7:00, cuz there was some other weird-looking truck parked just outside the carport. Even Tom’s stumped as to what they could be doing, but when he went to check on the leak, which is half fixed and looking promising for once after we got rain, he said he saw them digging up trenches in the backyard and also, that thing he said was a slide, isn’t a slide. It’s a backhoe. At first, he thought they were sandblasting the house to prep it for painting since the city loves to waste money. Anyway, he’s not sure what the hell they’re doing. They could be doing something with the gas line or maybe putting in a sprinkler system to spruce it up to try to sell it to a buyer if the sick fucks are really about to move, but who knows.

Tom said that this explains why the dog’s gone. If they’re not moving, though, and if the dog returns, I’ll have to listen to its annoying barking, but at least that should stop the music, which I haven’t yet heard today, to my utter amazement. I said “yet,” though, cuz I’m sure they aren’t temporarily staying elsewhere or have moved yet. Tom brought up another theory about the music that I wondered myself, given the absence of the dog, all this work they’re doing, the packing shit in the trunk, etc. Maybe he figured, “Well, we’re out of here soon anyway, so I’m gonna blast my music for her till we do leave.”

Anyway, if they are gone, or just he’s gone, or if the dog returns, we’ll know it within a few days at least, I’d think. Later Tom will get up on the roof again to see if he can figure out what they’re doing and what it may mean. I still have a feeling about them moving, but whether or not it remains owned by the city, there’ll still be problems from over there. The only difference will be that if it’s subsidized people, there’ll be more turnovers and more of them to deal with. If it’s a buyer, it’ll be a long-term family to have to deal with. Well, God’s stuck me with screaming kids, bassy music and dogs. What’ll be next? The same thing or college kids that party hearty all the time and loud motorcycles? If it stays black over there that means we’ll still have to deal with bass. They fucking love that shit. If it turns Spanish, we’ll be back to Mormon land, as they’ve only got a hundred kids, but there’ll be kids and dogs either way.

Tom’s out signing the papers for the loan and after he stops at his ma’s, he’ll be back.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 21, 1997 Andy will be back in a day or two. It’s too soon. I need a longer break from his calls.

Tom said that next door won’t play loud music every time they come and go like they used to. It’s true that they sometimes come and go quietly, but I was right when I said I’d hear music every day at least twice. All cuz the dog is no longer there. Jesus, some people! They just gotta do shit to you to let you know they’re there. Yeah well, it’s my turn to let them know that I’m here too, and I’ve been regularly belting the clothesline pole for a good 20 seconds or so in the wee hours of the night. The only thing that worries me about this is that maybe this isn’t bothering them. I should think they’d have to hear it loud and clear, but is it waking them up? I know it’d wake me up in a flash, but everyone’s different and very few people sleep as light as I do. Another thing I worry about is God punishing me for this. Remember, behavior that’s acceptable from most isn’t acceptable from me and God may feel that this is way out of line for me. It’s OK for most people, I’m sure, but I don’t know if I can get away with this. If something starts waking me up or if more things than usual begin going wrong, then I’ll stop.

In case you’re thinking - she’s doing this at night to get them to realize it’s cuz of their music, and she hopes this will stop them - that’s not the case. As long as there’s no dog there, the music will be an everyday thing, just like I said and knew it’d be, per orders of them and God. I’m doing it cuz I’m tired of this 1-sided annoyance deal. If I have to be annoyed and even pissed off by hearing them, they’re gonna have to hear my shit too. It may not wake them up or piss them off or annoy them, but it’s gonna be a two-way street here from now on.

I still wonder about this dog, though. I don’t think God’s ever freed me of a dog’s barking after just a few months. If it’s there, it’s being kept indoors at all times, which is something nobody here would do. Given the fact that the music stopped when the dog came and the music started when the dog left, did they borrow this dog to do this? Or are they having someone else hold it for a while, then plan to go get it and swap back again? These sick fucks really would do this, too. Did one of them decide they didn’t like the dog and that it wasn’t worth the hassle of feeding and scooping up its shit? Did it break free and run off? Did someone else get fed up with its late-night barking and kill it? I doubt that cuz if that were the case, I’d have heard movement of some kind from over there if that had happened while I was up and I’d be blamed for it.

Well, enough freeloader talk for now and on to better things, like last night’s gambling.

At just after 4 AM, we went to the Gila River Casino, which was more crowded than we thought it’d be for an early Monday morning.

I thought that the smell of cigarette smoke and the sight of others smoking might tempt me, but not at all! And it actually smelled kind of gross, too.

Anyway, he won $15 and I won $75. He lost what he won and I lost most of what I won, save a $20 bill he gave me to begin with. So, after an hour and a half, we quit and went to McDonald’s for breakfast. Then we went to Wal-Mart where I got two new hideaways, 3 straight tubes, and a T-tube. This week I’ll get that other medium-size cage I want and it’s only $17. The big one I got a few months ago was $22 and the little one Mary gave me was around $14. I also may get more curved tubes, but maybe not. Mary might take Tom’s bed and give me extra tubes and stuff like that for it.

I also talked to Mom yesterday who said we need a new screen door, I should paint the kitchen, we shouldn’t feed the cats, and we should put the house up for sale and make a move. Tom doesn’t have to bass our moving on the stocks, she says. I wish it were that easy to move, but unfortunately, we have a good 4-8 more years here. Tom says that in January he’ll have a better guess as to when we’ll move, but I know that all his timetable guesses are bullshit. I also know what my vibes tell me about moving. Just like they do with the kid and that just cuz I’m not smoking and just cuz we might be getting a new bed, Tom’s Tom and fate’s fate, but that’s OK at this day and age.

Later…

Just a quick update on the freeloaders. First, though, we went to Ma’s and I cut her nails for her. She gave me a puzzle too, that she’d already done, but it was one I once had and did myself. It was still very nice of her to give it to me.

After Ma’s, we went to the library where I picked up a couple of books and Tom verified that yes, the freeloader’s house is owned by the city. Now, they could very well be city workers, but it’s quite unlikely. It’s no doubt a case of her being on subsidized housing and Loverboy is probably not supposed to be there. Tom, who says he’s gonna send the city a letter (this I’ve got to see), said that this letter may help to get rid of him or all of them, but there’s a catch. I believe, that this letter won’t accomplish shit and if it did, the city would replace them instantly since there are so many bums out there with kids that need a subsidized place. And they would never put just one person in that 3-bedroom house, who’s in my old shoes and who wants to better their lives. They’d put a family over there with adults that just don’t give a shit and they’ll no doubt be far from white, too.

I called a housing number and asked who to talk to regarding complaining about their noise and was referred to another number, but they told me to call the police. That’s what’s gonna happen with this letter, too. I’m sure of it. Either no one’s gonna respond to it in any way shape or form, or they’ll send us a reply saying to call the police. You can only complain about zoning violations and that means stuff like old roofs, etc.

So, what I’m saying is that if Tom ever does send the city a letter, which he may do in 10 years or may never do at all, it’s not gonna do us a damn bit of good and God will be there to see to it, too. God will never allow me any peace from neighbors and as long as there’s no dog there, the music will be an everyday thing. I know I’m right about their intentions, even though Tom tells me I’m wrong. They did just what I knew they’d do. I said to myself that if for some reason the dog was ever gone, the music would start right back up again and it did. I’m not being paranoid here. I know what I’m saying.

It looks like they may have also put up a slide in their backyard and Tom said it doesn’t mean they still may not move in a few months or so, cuz you can move them easily. Again, there were also construction trucks there, too, and I smelled the odor of freshly cut wood, so maybe they did finally enclose their yard.

I told Tom I feared that they’d hang onto that house for years since subsidized housing is hard to come by, but he says it’s the other way around. They’re now getting strict with giving people public assistance and would put a time limit on them to encourage them to move on. Yeah, but if they do move on, new trouble comes right back in there with a new set of rude, selfish, inconsiderate, noise-making sick fucks.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 19, 1997 I just made mashed potatoes and brownies. I made the mashed potatoes cuz I saw a commercial where they added chicken broth to it, instead of butter. So I wanted to try it, but it wasn’t all that great.

In freeloader news, he didn’t play any more music yesterday that we know of, but tonight was a different story. Tom said he didn’t hear any music all day and that all he heard were car doors. Then at 10 PM, while he was still asleep, the freeloader came blasting in and loaded up his trunk. A half-hour later he left again with the music softer. Then he returned at 1:30 with no music and has been there ever since. I guess he’s now back to parking just outside the carport too, now that the weather’s cooled down. Still no dog, either.

As hard as it was to keep myself from going out there and kicking his ass and believe me, I wanted to soooooooooooo bad, I got a theory. This could be pure wishful thinking, but perhaps he’s moving out if they all aren’t, and maybe the dog is at the new place. Also, it was around this time last year that he was gone till around May or so.

Anyway, I decided that it was high time they heard annoying noise from me. So, I went outside and beat a rock on the clothesline pole. Something they had to have heard unless they’re unbelievably heavy sleepers.

Not this morning at around 3 AM, but tomorrow morning at this time, we’re gonna go take about $30 each and have fun gambling at one of the casinos on the Indian reservation. Ma gave us a pill bottle full of dimes and a little coffee jar full of nickels. That was very nice of her.

Ma also gave us some jokes she got off the computer. Most of them were boring, but some were funny. More so than jokes, they were funny bumper stickers seen all over and funny medical and political sayings. I’ll send the medical ones to Kim and the rest will go to Bob.

In my mom’s message to me a couple of days ago, she asked if I was still not smoking and said that if I’d gotten this far, I’ve got it licked. Yes, I think so too, even though I still have strong urges here and there. They pass quickly enough, though. Just a few hours ago, I hit my two-week marker!

I also got more mail from the Nicorette program. I didn’t expect anything else till next week, but then I realized they were playing catch up. I didn’t call them for the stuff right away, so now they’ve got the mailings timed to the date I quit. The pamphlet I got was what you’re supposed to get after your second week of not smoking. It was a pamphlet of basically the same things I’ve already read about - reasons why you shouldn’t smoke, other people’s stories about quitting, etc. There was also a postcard in which they ask you if you’re still not smoking and how many pieces of gum a day you’re using. This is so they can send you stuff to help with relapses.

The neon yellow plastic ball that little critters use to run around in broke. It had a few big cracks, so Tom picked up two new clear balls so that they can run around together.

Mama Cat and the kittens are still here and I was even able to play with White Feet with a long piece of twig, but Blackie’s much timider and won’t get that close to me. Anyway, I’m still feeding and watering them, but I don’t think any of them will ever want to live inside the house with us.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 17, 1997 In just another 24 hours it’ll be two weeks since I last smoked. Wow!

Now for my shitty news - it’s back. They swapped back to their old shit and now I’ve got the music to listen to, rather than the dog.

Last night I had no fans on from 9:45 at night and all the way into the next day. To my utter shock, I never heard one bark from next door. Not one. Then, at 7:30 he left with his music playing loud and came back in at 10:15 doing the same thing. When he came back then, I opened the door and looked out at him to make sure it really was him, and am pretty sure he saw me, too. Then, I heard 3 door slams a few minutes later, suggesting he came to pick up his bitch and the kid, then he left. I fell asleep before his return, which I’m sure was plenty loud enough.

So basically, we’re back to the same old shit and I’ll have to listen to the music 2, 4, or more times a day and if they don’t move around the new year, they’re not going anywhere. As far as Tom believes, the dog’s still there and this is just a one-time thing that can legally be dealt with. As far as I’m concerned, they may have gotten rid of the dog for whatever reason and therefore, they’re back to the music. I told you I knew that both they and God decided that it’d either be the dog or the music. This isn’t gonna go away. I know this isn’t a one-time deal and that it’ll be a constant problem every day of every week and I don’t believe him when he says it can be dealt with. Nothing can or will stop these sick fucks whether the dog’s gone or not. They just don’t care. This is the shit I have to deal with while we’re here and I know better - if they left right now, someone else would come in doing something else. Tom said they’re not doing it deliberately since they don’t consider others when it comes to doing what they do, but just in case I’m right about it being deliberate, don’t go to the door and give them a reaction, he says. No, they don’t give a shit about others, but yes, they are gearing this at me. They both reacted in a very typical way, right when I first asked them to lower the music. A classic reaction for big-city people especially and that’s that he didn’t give a shit, and she got pissed. If someone from another state asked me how people here take to being asked to lower noise, the answer I’d give would be simple: They either won’t give a shit or they’ll get so pissed off that they not only won’t want a damn thing to do with you, but if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you ripped them off and fucked over their family members for them to be that pissed at you. No matter how nicely you ask someone to lower noise, 95% of them won’t, cuz they just don’t care or will get furious over it.

This black bitch decided she hated me before she ever met me. She wasn’t here yet when I first asked him to turn his music down, which he obviously told her about later, and there it was, right from the get-go - sheer hatred and anger for me. I could see it in her whole demeanor and expression. All over a simple, reasonable, stupid little request that never should’ve become such a goddamn big deal. If they keep up with this selfish, rude, inconsiderate attitude, they’re gonna have a hard life, but that’s their problem.

Yesterday was exactly 6 weeks ago that me and his bitch had our screaming match. I knew deep down that this would happen and that if they didn’t start back with the music right away, then they’d wait a while to try to keep it from being obvious, but I’m not stupid. I know it’s aimed at me. They may like loud music anyway, and not give a shit about others, but I know what I’m in for from here on out and it is aimed at me. Tom said they wouldn’t get rid of the dog and return to the music overnight. Why wouldn’t they? If the dog is gone, then I’ll bet that after that time I let them have it early that morning, they borrowed the dog from someone, stopped the music, and then decided that yesterday was a good day to change back to their old ways. I know they quieted down with the music before the dog got here, but that’s mainly only cuz he wasn’t here. He returned pretty much at the same time the dog got here and people are sick, so they would let someone borrow their dog to harass someone else with it. People out here couldn’t care less about their dogs.

I told Tom that he’s welcome to go find out who owns the house and to log their regular blast ins and outs, and I will too if he wants, but that no amount of legal complaining’s gonna stop this. I’ve also known that since 1991, God’s insisted that I live with some kind of noise problem, and this time, I know the consequences of trying to fight fate, I know that even if I could fight this and win that God would replace it with something else to bother me, and I’m not gonna give God the satisfaction of giving him the reaction he wants and expects, and I’m not gonna give it to these sick freeloaders either like I did with the dog. They got just what they wanted and expected from me and now that’s over with, and we’re back to the original source of harassment. I think. This beast still may very well be there and be a problem too, in addition to the music. We’ll see.

I can’t fight God and win, no legal action would work, talking to them did no good, Tom won’t let me beat the shit out of them and end it for good that way, so rather than try to fight a fight I can’t win and give God and the freeloaders the reaction they want, I’ll just live with it for the 4-8 more years that I’m here.

Tom says that if we move to where we’re more secluded, not to scare me or say it’s bad, but there’d be more bugs and maybe even things like rattlesnakes. Well, as scary as that is, I’ll take that over dogs, music, screaming, and ball games that are just a few feet away, cuz that’s something that can be dealt with and avoided.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 16, 1997 I just went and downloaded a few old Linda pictures and put them into my wallpaper thing. Tom hasn’t set up the thing he said he was gonna set up yet for making the pictures look better, cuz he’d been busy, but I didn’t need it anyway. They look fine as they are.

For the thousandth time, I had to restrain myself from going next door and pummeling those freeloaders. Who the fuck do they think they are with their dog?! Someone’s got to teach them that they can’t just not give a shit about others around them and I hope Tom’s sincere when he says he’ll help me. He and I both agreed that the most logical thing to do at first would be to go to the library and see who owns that house. However, I’m afraid that he’s gonna conveniently not be able to find this out, but I know this has to be a matter of public information. Their computers are hooked up to a special government thing and other things that home PCs can’t access. I don’t know how all this shit works, but I know he does. I’m still afraid I’m gonna get some excuse from him as to why he couldn’t find out either at all or for sure who owns the house and how to contact the owner about their shit if it is a city or landlord-owned house.

Once again, my going off about the dog was what they both wanted and expected and this was also her excuse to go off on me, too. She wasn’t pissed at me for threatening this dog she’s supposed to love so much. It was the principal of the point and I still know that they got this dog in regard to me. They don’t give a shit about this dog, cuz if they did they wouldn’t leave it outside 24/7 first of all. Secondly, if I had a dog that someone threatened to shoot, even if I believed that they were just saying that to vent their steam, I wouldn’t take any chances if I loved that dog. I’d haul the dog indoors and I’d either beat the shit out of them or I’d take the matter to court. Although the courts don’t operate on threats. They only do something if something’s actually done to an animal or a person and it has to be proven, but even then, it’s iffy.

The only thing that makes no sense is why this dog first started off not being a problem. Tom says that as the weather gets cooler, it’ll settle down at night. Well, it hasn’t been that hot, and even if it did settle down as it got cooler, it’s gonna get hot again in just a handful of months and then I’ll have to sit and deal with the same old shit for many months and I don’t think so!

Like I said, I should have beat the shit out of them over a year ago, but since I promised Tom I wouldn’t, I should’ve only asked them once about the first source of rude noise which was the music, then got their asses into court for that and then the dog. Still, though, I don’t see how going to court or filing a complaint anywhere is gonna do a damn bit of good even though Tom says it will and that noise can easily be dealt with. These people just don’t care. They won’t listen to a neighbor, they won’t listen to a judge, they won’t listen to anyone. I’ll bet if they had a dying parent over there that asked them to shut it up, they’d pitch a fit on that too, and keep on doing as they please only.

What they’re up to is just too damn obvious here. The doors and the dog began right after I hauled off about their early morning music and the music’s been virtually non-existent since then. I appreciate the fact that they did something about the music from the bottom of my heart, but this doesn’t mean that they had to go and do something else, either. And I don’t know for sure that the lack of music is cuz of me. It could be for any reason. So like I said before, I know they had it in mind to swap in the music for the dog and doors. Also, before the dog, he’d always park either just outside or just inside the carport and he’d never go door slamming so much. But now he slams the doors and parks deep into the carport where he knows the sound will funnel better. Something else just hit me tonight about why he chose to park deep in the carport. Cuz it’s right next to the window that’s lit up the most. There are 3 windows on their side. The two bedrooms and the back room. The two bedrooms are often dark cuz we’re only in one of them to sleep for the most part, and the other to listen to music, which I do in the dark. Also, there’s foil and soundproofing stuff up in those windows. The back room, however, is the room we use the most, besides the living room. It’s always lit up and he saw this and decided to park by the room he sees that we use the most.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 15, 1997 Today Tom picked me up my second gum refill. The starter kit costs about $46 and the refills are about $30.

I also got my first of all those mailings I’m supposed to get. It had a customized booklet on quitting smoking with my name all over it to personalize it, a “congratulations for deciding to quit” letter, and a coupon for toothpaste with a tooth whitener in it.

In case I forgot to mention - Gizzy’s a male gerbil. That’s what they had written on the receipt, so I guess I got all male animals. Inside the house, anyway.

A while back I had mentioned us getting a free movie for the next 6 months from one of the pay-per-view channels, but it doesn’t look like we can cuz our cable box isn’t suited for that.

Tom got us a new microwave today and it’s a nice one. It’s very powerful like the other one was and cost $140. It’s got some really neat features that I didn’t even know existed. It’s got a sensor reheat, a sensor popcorn, etc. As usual, though, those sensor things don’t work too well. The sensor popcorn made a damn good guess that was close, but not quite. It’s black, so spots on it won’t show up as much as they did with our old white one. It’s also a carousel, too. At this time, I’ve got a long tunnel separating the little and medium cages. Teddy Bear has the aquarium and the little cage. Gizzy has the tunnel, the medium cage, and two rings on top of that. He likes to sit up top the rings, now that he can climb straight down and any way he pleases. I’m glad these things are so inquisitive, too, cuz they never fail to check out every inch of any new setups I create.

Why is Tom so wonderful, so helpful, so smart, so supportive, yet such a liar? Now he’s telling me I’ll be pregnant for sure in December unless a meteor strikes the house and kills us. Well, maybe someday he’ll admit his true feelings and all about why he won’t cum much and realize I’m sterile.

Even though I know better, and even though God allowed me to take control of my life/body with the elimination of the smokes, something’s different this time. This time there’s something different about the way he told me this. Regardless of whether or not I’m OK, could he have planned this? I mean he obviously knew those few times he let go at prime time that we could’ve made a kid since he thinks I’m fertile but was he hoping I’d quit smoking soon enough, then wait a few months afterward to really let go when the bulk of the shit from the cigarettes would be out of my system? Well, we’ll see if he avoids prime time till December’s prime time, then cums more often.

Later…

It’s about that time now when the freeloader’s beast will be going off till 10:30 or even till 1 AM. It’d be so peaceful for the next 12 or so hours if only that fucking beast weren’t in the picture.

My slow, clumsy, klutz of a hamster never liked the red plastic wheel that came with the last cage I got. It’s tilted too much. However, it seems that Gizzy just may like it. He surely can balance himself on it better, since he’s smaller and has a tail.

Tom read his second John Saul book and liked it, and now God’s acting like there’s a pregnancy to dodge once again. By the time we get around to screwing again, it’ll be too late for a normal woman.

Tom’s really happy, though, that after working for years to get us well off financially, we finally are. I’m happy, too, but I still don’t buy it when he says that this and the bed will change our sex lives. And anyway, we still have one more step to hope to get through as far as getting this loan goes. A guy came today to do an appraisal of the house, but if that doesn’t work out, bye-bye loan.

A few days ago I quit the prevention inhaler (Ventolin) and all I have to take once or twice a day is the Proventil if I get a slight wheeze, but I don’t even have to take that if I don’t want to.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 14, 1997 I know I haven’t written much lately. It’s still hard to follow old routines, but it is getting easier. Overall, this is still the easiest quitting smoking’s ever been for me, but it does have its hard moments, that’s for sure. I’m going on day 10 now, amazingly, and I thought it was about time I caught up with the writing.

Let me start with the assholes and get them out of the way first. The beast has been taking some fits between the hours of 10 PM - 1 AM and as I told Tom, it’s time to take them to court, since he insists he doesn’t want me to set them straight.

Who the fuck do these freeloaders think they are?! First they come in here like they own the block, then they act like I asked them to shoot their parents when I asked them to turn down the music, then this thing with the dog has her running over here, telling me to shut up and that she doesn’t want to know I exist, yet it’s OK for me to have to know she exists by me having to listen to her dog, and their car horns and talking. I don’t think so! Somebody’s got to set this bitch straight. I mean, you just can’t do that. You can’t go into some neighborhood and be this uncooperative and selfish. You can’t go to someone’s door, whether or not they threatened your dog, and tell them to shut up (I still don’t know why I didn’t beat the shit out of her and I still kind of wish I did). You also can’t tell someone that you don’t want to know they exist while you keep on sticking noise on them of different sources. Well, it’s a two-way street here and these assholes better learn this or else they will get their asses kicked someday by some neighbor. If it weren’t for Tom, they’d be mincemeat but one of these days, they’re gonna fuck with someone like me who won’t have a Tom to consider.

Tom says he’s seen the dog leashed to a stake that’s in the center of the yard. It can reach all edges of the yard. He also said he saw construction service trucks over there on Monday and that he heard hammering. He said that he didn’t know what they were doing, but hoped they were having their yard enclosed. That wouldn’t stop them from putting the dog in the carport if they wanted to.

As I’ve said before, I know there’s good and bad in all kinds of colors, races, nationalities, etc., and I loved Steve and thought he was a great guy (he lived across from me on Woodside Terrace), but most of these blackies are sick pups. If they’re not religious fanatics, they’re into some kind of crime, or they’re selfish, rude, bitches just like with what we got next door. Most of them are, anyway.

Leave it to a sick bitch like her to be with a phony wimp like he is, too. Someone she can push around and control. A guy who would be all smiles and say “Sure. No problem,” about turning down the music, which was such phony bullshit, is just her type of man.

Speaking of Mr. Phony and Miss Bitch, well, I guess they had a little squabble at just after 10 PM. I heard them wheel in their recycle bin and why they did it so late, beats me. Right before this, though, I heard a door slam, so maybe he came home, pulled it in if it’s his job to do, then she heard him come in and went running out to bitch at him. No, I’m not sure it was an argument since the bitch always speaks aggressively and always seems to be pissed at something, but I still think she was mad at him. He sounded annoyed and a bit defensive, while she sounded pissed. Maybe she thought he oughta be in earlier than 10:00. Anyway, the wuss of a guy seemed like he did not want to deal with her, but I know these smiling phony dudes. I’ll bet he got off on my screaming match with his bitch and I’ll bet he got off on blasting me out and with my asking him to turn it down. That, as well as the fact that he too, is a selfish, rude, bastard.

I still have a feeling, though, that something’s to be changing within that house real soon, but I don’t know what. Things would be fine if they continued to keep the music down and if the dog shut up between 6 PM - 1 AM. It’s quiet during the days and unless that’s gonna change, and unless it’s gonna be like the other two will be any time now, barking till sunup to sundown, it’d be fine. That’s all I’d need would be for the two dogs to ruin the days cuz they will any day now, then have to sit and listen to the freeloader’s beast all night.

Later…

I talked to Andy, who’s now off in the friendly skies. I won’t miss the frequent calls/messages. I know no law says I have to call or respond to his messages, it’s just that I’d feel I was being rude if I didn’t at least reply to whatever he has to say. He is my best friend still, and I do care about him.

It’s been wonderfully quiet in the near hour that I’ve been sitting here in the back room, but of course, that’s subject to change at any second.

Andy’s happy that I’m now going on my 10th day of not smoking, as is my dad who I talked to today after getting their package. He said that about after a month, people can light up in front of me and it won’t faze me.

I got two valances, as I believe they’re called, that you put in between the mattress and the box spring and that set of sheets. It doesn’t match the comforter, though, like we thought. Also, there was no bedding of theirs and I can’t believe they can’t find it. How can you lose brand-new bedding?

They also sent a couple more of those cute mini wind chimes (a monkey and a panda), a few other odds and ends, and a Mary Higgins Clark book. This came with good timing too, cuz I wanted to check her out, as I heard she might write similar to John Saul and so far, I like this book of hers I’m reading.

It took Gizzy a little time to learn to go down the tubes. He could go straight up, but not straight down. I had to teach him by slowly making the incline steeper and steeper. He’s so cute to watch as he runs through all his tubes. Teddy Bear’s different. He just likes a piece of tube to sleep in if he isn’t sleeping in the hideaway or elsewhere, but he doesn’t go running through tubes for the hell of it like Gizzy does. He’s so fast, too, compared to the slow, clumsy T-Bear and he’s the fastest on the wheel, too. Even a bit faster than Gizzy the mouse was.

Let’s see…the washer and dryer broke, then the car, then the TV, and now this TV and VCR are fucked up. Then the vacuum broke and I’m sure other things have broken that have slipped my mind at this time. A few days ago I was sitting around and asked God what he was gonna break next and I thought about what he could possibly hit next and today he made his choice. He made sure our microwave broke and he’s fucking with the car again, too.

Like I told Tammy, she and her family have repeated health problems and meanwhile, our stuff keeps breaking.

Now Tom “thinks” and “believes” in his “opinion,” that I’ll be pregnant in December. Oh please! Doesn’t this guy ever get sick of this shit? And how does he expect this to happen with me being sterile and with him too afraid to cum? By magic? By God suddenly loving us? I’m pleased that God decided to have the kindness to allow me to allow myself to quit smoking, but this doesn’t mean he’s gonna be like, “Sure, go ahead. Use your body and plumbing to your heart’s desire. Do what you want with your life. Have a kid.” He’s been more patient and understanding with me and supportive of my not smoking, which I more than appreciate, but to say that the bed’s what’s gonna help him, and not having to worry about money (even though he says we always could’ve afforded a kid), will really help him, is BS. He’s not only always got an excuse, but he’s got a BS “answer” too, for what’ll make him cum more. He’ll cum more when he wants to and isn’t afraid to.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 11, 1997 I woke up with an upset belly, but hopefully the Chinese food he got will help.

The door slamming hasn't begun yet and the dog's been quiet. That's cuz it's saving all its energy so it can bark from 6 PM-midnight. We're getting ready to go to court here, I swear! It's either that, or I go over there and beat the holy snot out of them, and I know Tom would rather I didn't.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 10, 1997 Today’s one of those days where I’m tired and don’t feel like doing too much of anything, so I may not write for too long.

To get the less pleasant things out of the way first - the asshole’s dog is pretty quiet during the daytime. 2-3 hours in the early evening is a different story.

Coming into the weekend gets my nerves going, as usual, and this is the second night in a row I thought I heard music at a so-so volume, but can’t be sure if it was them. Off we go to court, though, if the music does become a problem.

As for them moving in December, well, I’m beginning to doubt that cuz wouldn’t there be a for-rent or for-sale sign up by now? I also can’t imagine God seeing to it that I only had to put up with this beast for 2-3 more months. I’d think he’d want to compensate me for the two wonderful years there was no dog there and for the lack of music (if it stays that way). Not that he couldn’t ensure the new neighbor’s music and dog drove me nuts if they were to move.

Given the fact that we’re doing the best we’ve ever done financially since we got married, and given the fact that I’m approaching day 7 with no cigarettes, it’s almost scary. Things seem too good to be true and I’m afraid some shit will hit the fan, whether it’s due to the freeloaders or something else and I wonder if I’ll be able to get through it without smoking.

Tom also insists he’s “100% sure” that the bed and the not smoking is the key to his dick cumming more and the key to God allowing us a child. Oh, come on! Doesn’t he think I know better? He’ll say anything to keep me off the cigarettes. And I also wonder how I’ll handle not smoking as the months go by and I see how much I continue to be right about that.

If I’m still not smoking on Sunday, that’ll mark the longest I’ve ever gone without smoking. It’s unbelievable. Totally unreal to me and I guess I’m still shocked. It hasn’t really hit me yet. I sure do love waking up able to breathe, though, and not needing inhalers. No more constant coughing, tightness, wheezing or congestion, either.

Mom and Dad left a message on AOL wishing me a happy Jewish New Year and once again, I wonder if Ma’s not senile or something. She said that in the package of bedding she sent me, she may have accidentally sent her new bedding, too! Jesus! Anyway, she asked for me to ship any white/yellow checkered bedding back that I may get and said she’d pay the postage. I told her not to worry about the postage and that I’d ship it back to her.

As I said, I’ve been feeling lazy and tired today and will do the dishes, the grocery list and some cooking tomorrow. Right now I could sure go for a cup of hot chocolate, so I’ll return later to tell you all about our new black Mongolian gerbil, Gizzy!

Later…

I did get the dishes done, after all.

Gizzy’s half the size of Teddy Bear and probably won’t get as big. He’s all black with just a tiny dot of white on the chest and two front paws. This, or if they’re all black, is how you know what kind of gerbil it is (Tom researched this online).

T-Bear may like and get along with Bunny and Spunky, but he’s not very fond of Gizzy and the feeling’s mutual. I was right when I said they wouldn’t kill each other, but they really loved bullying each other around. So, they’re together, but separate. I put a clear, grated cap in between them, so they can get nose to nose, but not shove each other around and hiss about each other. T-Bear’s the one that hisses. We read that hamsters don’t get along with other hamsters (although gerbils love other gerbils), so maybe Gizzy’s scent is too much like a hamster’s, cuz T-Bear loves Bunny and Spunky.

Anyway, I also got another little cactus figurine. This one’s made of plastic and has two little purple silk flowers on it. Not for their cage, of course, but for decoration.

I got another wire wheel too, as the purple, red and yellow ones are screwed up. The wire ones are the best. My first wire one was all pink. This one - the wheel was magenta, but the stand was purple. So I made them both of two different colors and have one that’s pink and purple and the other’s magenta and pink.

Gizzy’s in the medium-sized cage and has more tubes to use than T-Bear and T-Bear’s in the aquarium and little cage.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 8, 1997 Well, this dog that I thought wasn’t so bad after all, was a different story last night. For about an hour or two in the early evening yesterday, it just wouldn’t shut the fuck up! Then, I heard it again at midnight for a while, but I just ran and blasted my music and sang my heart out to try to deal with it that way without me freaking out. Then today, as I was over seeing the kittens, it heard me and started barking, nearly scaring the shit out of me.

I’m trying to keep my promise to Tom, but it is sooo hard. If I could just have 5 minutes with them, their dog’s barking would be a thing of the past and there’d be no chance of them ever returning to blasting in and out of here. It wouldn’t ruin our filing for a line of credit by causing them to complain, etc. like Tom said. However, if I hear that dog after 10 PM more than once in a blue moon, I’ll be over there. And the poor little black bitch will know I exist, alright.

Ma sent a message thanking us for the instructions and said she got a re-dialer that’s just 25¢ a call and a far cry from Sprint.

Mom and Dad only type in either all lower or all upper-case letters. This time it was all caps.

Tom’s mom also sent home a picture of her, dad, and Tom at the racetrack, standing by one of Tom’s honorary horses. It’s in a nice frame and is on the shelf with other pictures.

Tom said that this is guessing very conservatively, but he says that the bed should be delivered by November 3rd or 4th. Something will come up to delay that too, I’m sure, but I hope not. For once, I hope not. We’ve waited long enough for this.

Finally! Andy’s to be leaving PHX on the 13th and he’ll be in Springfield from the 14th-18th. Then early on the 18th, he’ll be going to New York to see Xena (I take it Michelle’s still going with him). Then he’ll be driving back to PHX on the 19th and he expects to arrive here on the 22nd.

Later…

It’s a gorgeous day of about 80º. I put Bunny outside for a little while and changed the cat’s water and gave them more food. Mama Cat now lets me get within a few feet of her, but she still hisses at me when I do. The kittens still shy away from me, too. They’ve grown a little since they were here when we had that huge storm, and they’re so cute! I fried up some chicken a few days ago, before Tom got cat and kitten food, and gave them some of that, and Mama Cat devoured that in no time.

They’re still having that buy-one-get-one-free deal on bread, so the birds are still getting bread. The good thing about it is that they’re not messing up the patio. I’ve got them held back on the lawn by throwing their food out there to them and they don’t bother with coming onto the patio.

Another withdrawal symptom I’m having is dizziness. That’s due to the brain suddenly getting all this extra oxygen that it’s not used to getting. At least I’m not stuck for a second day in a row. I took two shits earlier.

Tom says that another reason, in his eyes, that would cause God to be more willing to allow us a child, is cuz of how I’d be trying to quit for just me in the past, but this time I’m quitting for me, him and for a kid. Well, I still don’t see him budging on that, cuz if God hasn’t yet found me deserving and ready for it, then how could he ever? Yes, it does make sense, like I said before, that he’d give someone a child after they quit smoking, but then there’ll be something else that’ll make sense, then something else, cuz that’s the way it always works. So what about the things that made sense before I quit? If it is a case of God waiting for me to quit smoking, why did he wait till now to give me the strength to allow myself to quit? Why not years ago? Also, if quitting smoking is the key to a child in God’s eyes, I’ll know by January at the latest. If I’m not pregnant by then, then I’m still right about it not being fated to be.

We’ll also see just how much this really does affect Tom’s performance in bed too, or if he just said it would in order to motivate me. I really hope not, cuz although I’m used to the way things are and don’t expect them to change just cuz I stopped smoking, I don’t like bullshit motivational tactics, either.

There are a lot of ways that I can analyze and view this whole thing. I mean, I do feel like I’m being prepared for something, but the thing that seems most logical kind of scares me. What if God’s preparing me for some major tragedy like some accident or illness that he feels I’d die from if I smoked? This could be to prepare me for something terrible to come too, but we’ll see in time if it’s to survive something bad, to help something good, or simply just because.

Later…

Well, we just got done screwing. I didn’t cum cuz I’m not as horny after my period, and of course, he didn’t either. He said that’d take a few weeks to change. Mhm. Sure. I’ve heard this before a million times.

I’m taping a movie right now so I don’t have to watch all the baby commercials. Sex and babies are the last things I need to be dealing with right now.

It’s now been 95 hours since my last smoke. How unreal it seems.

I doubt it, but can’t be sure if the beast barked up a storm this evening. I had fans on so I wouldn’t have to be bothered with hearing anything that may piss me the hell off. Tom said the early evening barking will stop as the weather cools down. He says that when it’s really hot, the thing’s being still and lazy, building up energy for barking fits as it gets cooler at sundown. But, now that it’s getting cooler, it shouldn’t bark more during the day, but it should bark less at night. Whatever, I mean, I just wish the dog and them would drop dead and that that house would stay empty till we moved, but life’s all about wishing and dreaming.

Soon, I’ll be stopping all letters to Paula. Except for Larry, I’m not gonna have a one-sided pen pal deal here, and for all I know, that PO Box may not even belong to her anymore. Not with how much she moves around. So, just like with Shelly, no letters from me till and if I ever hear from her.

Entry by Tom -

I’m taking time away from reading my book to write this entry. I’m so proud of the way you have stopped smoking. I’m sure that things are going to get better. I should be able to get the washers changed on Friday and most of the branches picked up as well. I think I had better close out this entry and start getting ready for work. I love you.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 7, 1997 Boy, has our weather changed overnight. This is the kind of weather our sick freeloaders won’t appreciate. I hope. He’s never been living here past - what? Wasn’t it around late October or early November that he moved and only came around for visits every 1-3 weeks? Nonetheless, it’s gone from hot to chilly and I’ll bet that tonight, it’ll be too cold to be out sleeveless. I even have the cooler on vent and not on cool right now.

Things have been peaceful around here. I just hope that God will be understanding of my rather fragile situation now and that he’ll hold off the next phone call about any more deaths or problems of a serious nature. And any other problems, too.

This is day 3 of not smoking and it sure is a challenge. It’s definitely the hardest thing I’ve ever done and it makes losing weight, learning to draw, and learning sign language and Spanish seem like a piece of cake. Having and raising a child may be the hardest thing to do, but this is surely runner-up. Tom, who says I’m Wonder Woman, says I can do both. I don’t know about that.

After letting Andy know I was trying to quit smoking, he left me quite a self-absorbed message yesterday, telling me how frustrated he is that he has no car, no sex, etc. Not that I don’t care or know what it’s like to have hardships, but I told him not to take it personally if he doesn’t hear much from me, since I’m trying to avoid things I’d associate with smoking. I just can’t sit and play phone with him or be held up from things I’ve got to do, which I’m way behind on. I haven’t been doing much, though, cuz this not smoking thing has made me tired. Then, I wondered if he even got my messages (Laura could’ve erased them) about what happened with Lisa and with the not smoking and then he returned the message saying he was sorry to hear about Lisa, will try to see Tammy and all of them when he goes back east, and that’s impressive that I’ve quit smoking, but don’t feel bad if I fail.

I’d feel miserable if I failed, but anything’s possible. Tom thinks this is it, but Andy’s a pessimist like me and may be that way about the not smoking for a while, as well as a bit jealous. This is understandable, though. I’m just trying to take it one step at a time and not tell myself I’ll succeed or I’ll fail. Just that I hope to succeed.

I just hope Andy leaves soon enough. He said he feels like this trip is never gonna happen, but his ma left him a message saying she was car hunting for him, so hopefully he’ll be gone and will feel better once he gets his new car. I hope God will allow him to have a life when he returns, too. If he could just meet that perfect guy and have more things to do besides work, smoke pot and talk on the phone, then he’ll be happier and maybe he won’t bug me so much with calls.

Anyway, I am breathing better and my nose is clearer. My skin also seems a bit softer, too. I’m at 108 pounds and sure to keep climbing. One thing at a time, though, so I’m not worrying right now about weight, exercise, or anything like that. All I’m worried about is not smoking and staying at least active/busy enough and not eating like a pig. I haven’t eaten more than I usually do, though, but we’ll just see where my weight goes in time if I continue to succeed with not smoking.

The Nicorette came with a lot more than it did when I last tried it back east. It had a booklet about the gum and was full of motivational stuff when I got it before, and it not only had that this time too, but it had a tape of the booklet as well. It also had stickers to stick on your calendar to remind you when to begin each of the 3 steps. You’re supposed to be on the gum for 12 weeks, but after 6 weeks, you drop the gum from one piece every 1-2 hours to one piece every 2-4 hours. Then on weeks 10-12, I have one piece every 4-8 hours.

The booklet also had a personal ID number where you can call an 800 number to get a personalized stop-smoking plan. Over a 12-week course, you get a stop-smoking plan, a newsletter with people’s stories about quitting, a motivational postcard, more tips on quitting, a congratulations packet with weight-loss tips, and an award certificate. They also ask you questions like, are you quitting for better health? To save money?

After I had the relapse after going 29 hours, I had 7 cigarettes till I quit again for the last time 6 hours later at 11 PM on October 4th. I put the cigarettes out in the garage and asked Tom to hide them, which he did. When he gets up, though, I’ll tell him he can now destroy them. Even though I’ve only had 7 cigarettes since 1 PM on Friday, my quit time is officially 11 PM on Saturday, cuz I haven’t had any cigarettes since then.

Tom always told me that if I ask him to get me cigarettes, he will, and that as long as I try my best, that’s what’s important to him. He’s been a great support, very cheerful, positive, etc.

Tom says he feels better himself and that he’s peppier and less congested when he wakes up. I love not being so tight and wheezy and congested. The two withdrawal symptoms I’ve had the most are trouble concentrating and fatigue, but it could be worse. At least I don’t have headaches and stomach upsets like I thought I would. I was stuck 3 days ago, and today, but the last two days I had no problem and hopefully I won’t stay stuck much longer.

I had asked for a puzzle instead of the gerbil, so I could keep my hands busy, but I guess that Tom’s still gonna get me a gerbil if I’m still not smoking this Friday. I got the puzzle really cheap at just $3, but I still have a hard time doing things that require concentration, so I’ll try again some other time.

Later…

One of the side effects of this gum, besides heartburn, is hiccups. Especially if you chew too fast. So I have to sometimes take the gum out and swallow water upside down a few times to get rid of them.

Ma sent home with Tom a beautiful pitcher with cactuses on it today. I washed it out as it was quite dusty and it’s now sitting on top of the frig.

Tom trimmed the tree out front and got a lot done around here. He even sorted through the file box and in it, was a packet of all different colored paper used for origami. I’m using them for letters to Bob and to keep track of when I take the Nicorette.

I got letters from Bob and Kim, but why does Kim keep sending me Bob’s boring letters? I told her she didn’t need to bother, but oh well.

I’m gonna take a popcorn break, then will be back to continue on.

Later…

Oh, the urge to smoke after popcorn is bad! I just popped a piece of the gum and that’ll help, but perhaps I should wait on the popcorn.

I called Ma the other day who wanted to know why she got $200 from AOL added to her phone bill. I guess she’s using an access number that’s not local cuz like she said, she’s supposed to pay a flat-rate fee of $19.95 a month and all she spent was $50 to have someone set up their computer (and Tom could’ve done it for free). Tom sent her a message on what to do.

Speaking of money, we got a line of credit which we’ll probably always have, so if the AC died, or we needed money for whatever, it’s there. Naturally, though, we have to pay it back in payments. Things always take longer than you plan, though, if they happen at all, so I guess the bed’s gonna be delayed for at least two more weeks since it takes 14 days for the guy to process everything. Tom didn’t think it’d take that long.

I guess that wasn’t their dog I heard yesterday that I thought was inside. When I went out earlier, I heard that same dog and thought it was theirs inside their house, but then I heard it, very loud and clear, just over the wall at just about 1-2 feet away. So, this was really some other dog with a similar bark that was at a distance. If there’s anything positive I could say about their dog, it’s that it’s not the problem I thought it’d be. It doesn’t bark as much as I thought it would and I’m sure that the winter won’t be any different. The only difference there’ll be is that at any moment, those two dogs will be at it every other 5 minutes from sunup to sundown.

At around 5:30 I headed over there with water. Remember the cats are in between the two houses, and while I was there, I heard an adult male voice and a female child’s voice and saw a ball head for the hoop, but only once, then it went dead quiet. It could’ve been kids passing by, but I doubt it. I think it was the little girl and the teenage boy.

The kittens, as well as Mama Cat, seem to be warming up to me and I’m bringing them food, milk and water regularly. Tom picked up cat food today. It’ll still be a while, if ever, before I can just walk up and pat any of them.

Naturally, Tom’s running around saying he’s 100% sure I’ll be getting pregnant soon and that my quitting smoking will help ensure this, cuz it’ll make our sex better and more frequent. As I told him, I don’t believe anything till I see it, just like I wouldn’t believe I’d go 3 days without smoking out here in AZ till I did. I don’t believe I’ll go 4 days, either, till I see it. Tom is naturally gonna say anything pleasant to my ears if it’ll help to motivate me to quit and stay that way, although I do feel more positive about it. It makes sense that if God were just waiting for the right time that now’s it, but I still don’t see how my quitting smoking’s gonna change a damn thing in that department. It’s the things that make sense that don’t seem to happen nearly as much as the things that don’t make sense. It’s the senseless things that occur all the time.

I asked Tom how he could still want a kid despite all the shit that goes on in this world and he said that that’s just life. He has a point, but I’m not gonna be worrying about no kid till and if I see it, and I have more important things to worry about right now and that’s that I stay off the cigarettes.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 6, 1997 I don’t know if I can concentrate on writing right now, but I’ll try. The reason I haven’t written in a few days is that I’ve quit smoking. Yes, you heard right, as shocking as it is.

Friday morning, I was really in a bad mood over what happened with Lisa, and I thought I’d help myself to feel better by going to the library, but that day God was in no mood to help me help myself. I ended up feeling worse, as I couldn’t even hear myself think in the library. Whatever happened to the be-quiet-in-libraries policy? You don’t bring a baby to a library. I mean, how rude! You leave your screaming babies at home and have consideration for others. But of course, no one seems to have that these days. Especially in Phoenix.

Anyway, Tom got one other John Saul book I thought he’d like (I can’t believe I got him into my favorite author and that he’s reading another book of his), then we went to Walgreens where we got the Nicorette gum.

I began at 1 PM Friday and made it 29 hours without smoking. Then I relapsed and smoked 7 cigarettes from 5 PM - 11 PM, then quit again. I haven’t had any cigarettes since 11 PM last night, which is almost 34 hours ago.

It’s tough at times. It really is. I still can’t concentrate well and am still having trouble staying focused without getting fidgety, so I’ll write more later.

Later…

OK, let’s see if I can bring myself to write some more now. It’s hard. It’s hard to do much of anything that requires concentration at this time.

Got my period early, as usual. This time, it was a whole 5 days early.

The kittens that Mama Cat had moved are back by the side of the house again. I gave her some tuna and some milk. Tom mentioned getting some dry cat food and letting the kittens decide whether or not they ever want to be our cats. Well, I just went around to the side of the house. I saw Mama Cat run off just as I went out, but when I went over to the side to see the kittens - they didn’t want to see me. They ran and hid in the bricks that are stacked up over there, but I left some more tuna there, anyway. Hopefully, they’ll warm up to me in time.

I couldn’t believe what I just heard while at the side of the house, but to my utter astonishment, it sounded like the dog was inside. Inside the house! It was barking, of course, and I could also hear sprinklers. At 10:30, they gave me a door slam, but last Friday they left at 7 AM, so maybe they don’t work every weekday or maybe their schedule varies, but someone’s gotta be over there. Or else they wouldn’t have sprinklers on and they wouldn’t have the dog inside where it couldn’t get out to do its business.

I wrote Kim and Paula a letter, but even that was a struggle. My mind kept wandering and I’ve been tired, too. After 18 years of having stimulants, the body has to relearn how to make its own energy. If I weren’t hyper to begin with, I’d be even more tired, I’m sure.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 3, 1997 Let me get the good news out of the way before I get into the shitty news.

I got the first package my parents sent yesterday. My favorite thing was this little figurine of cactuses and flowers.

There were also 5 really cute little mini wind chimes. There were two floral ones, a rabbit, a dog, and an angel. They came with suction cups, but since they really do “suck” and don’t stay up, I hung them outside.

There was a windsock and a windsock spinner, which came with good timing. I had to retire my old windsock that got all faded and torn, so I put this new one up on the clothesline. I had a mini windsock that they sent when I was at the Vista, but that was faded and shredded too, so I put the spinner in its place on the patio.

They sent a couple of beach towels, a flag, a little Tupperware jar, pictures of Becky and Sarah, and a mauve-colored lamp. The lampshade got a bit dented up on its way here.

Lastly, they sent a keyboard wristrest. It’s gray, not a pretty color, but it’s nice and soft and velvety. However, I’m having a hard time getting used to it, although I’m sure Tom will like it a lot.

It was great to be able to turn around and send them a message about it right away, rather than have to take notes for my next letter to them.

Ma’s got a couple of computer questions for Tom. She wants a re-dialer for when AOL’s busy and she wants to know of a way to set things up so she doesn’t have to keep typing her password continuously. I know this can be set up so she doesn’t have to do this and I told her I think that the re-dialer is something she has to download from AOL, but that Tom will let her know for sure. He said he went on last night to email them, but AOL crashed, so he’ll do it today. We’ll see about that, but I hope so.

OK, here’s my shitty news and believe me, I’ve never before looked at my sterility as such a gift, rather than a curse.

Lisa was sexually assaulted at school yesterday. At school! Where kids are supposed to be safe. The definition of sexual assault is that she was not penetrated, thank God, but the fact that she was touched is bad enough.

What is it with God harassing and hurting this family when it comes to sexual issues and children? He’s hexed so many of us sexually, he killed my brother’s kid, he’s caused other problems for Tammy’s kids, sterilized me, and now this shit! How can any God inflict so much pain and hatred?! When’s he gonna leave this family the fuck alone?!

Well, like I said, he can sterilize me all he wants. I’m not gonna have a kid just so he can kill it, too. If we had a girl, it’d be sexually assaulted or raped. If we had a boy, it’d do the sexual assaulting and the raping for all I know, among all the other problems they’d have and create and you know me - if I had a daughter that was hurt sexually, I’d kill her attacker and if I had a son that put its hands or dick where it didn’t belong, I’d hack its hands and dick right off its body. Besides, it’s hard to imagine anything coming from me, coming out normal. I mean, with my luck, it’d be born with its left leg where its right arm was supposed to be.

Tammy doesn’t know what’ll happen from here. She said there are a lot of scenarios that could happen from here, but I think she knows like I do that the justice system is a complete flop. A total fuck-up. These animals are incurable, so they won’t be executed or put away for life like they should be. Even if it did any jail time, which I doubt, it’ll just get out and do it again.

Kids aren’t safe at home, they’re not safe at school, they’re not safe from God. It’s sick. It really is and if Tom goes on about birth control when he gets home and I tell him about this, I’m gonna be really pissed even more. He knows I know I’m sterile. You don’t put contraceptives over sterility, and it’d be just like me getting a perm. I’m sure he’ll be even more hesitant about cumming, but fine, let him do what he wants, cuz I know that no matter how much or how little he cums, I’m safe and God can keep this child from me all he wants. I don’t want him to give me a child just so he can hurt or kill it.

This is a little town that this happened in, so I can only imagine what goes on in mid-sized towns and big cities like Phoenix.

Just like Tammy’s told her the bullshit story of how I was supposed to have pulled off a gerbil’s tail when I was little and asked her to tape it back on when Lisa’s GP died to make her feel better. And just like she told her I tried killing myself when she found out she was thinking about it, there’s a chance she may tell Lisa that someone tried raping me in Agawam in the late 80s. I told her that I know she won’t make Lisa feel like it’s her fault and that she won’t push her away when she needs to talk, but that if she wanted to tell her about me and let her know that Lisa could talk to me too, anytime she wanted to, that’s fine.

Later…

As for the pictures of Becky and Sarah - Sarah looked cute, but Becky looked horrible. She looks like a little chipmunk with the way her teeth are, and her hair looked awful, too. It’s short, uneven disarray that looks like a wig someone just plopped on top of her head.

The HS sent me 5 cute holiday cards with animals on them. They’ll probably go to mom and dad, Tammy and her family, Larry and his family, Andy, Bob and Kim.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 2, 1997 Tom took Mom to buy a new vacuum, too, and with it, she got a hand vacuum that she sent home to us. It’s awesome! It’s got a long cord and is way better than the battery ones. The battery ones die so fast and you’ve got to keep it plugged into a charger. This is great for picking up stray bits of sawdust that the animals kick out of their cages.

Later…

Great. Just great. Now I’m 106 lbs. Why has God taken such control over my body? Why won’t he just allow me to lose weight? It used to be that I’d lose weight on days that I didn’t eat much. I used to weigh less when I’d wake up. I shouldn’t be going to bed and waking up at the same weight, so why does he insist I hold this extra weight? Can’t I just get down to 100 lbs.? Will I ever get down there again? Well, obviously not, and obviously he doesn’t want me to for some reason. My body belongs to him. It’s totally in his control.

Andy left me a message yesterday telling me that he was pissed to notice Laura took $20 from him. He talked to the boyfriend about it who told him that she’s done that before and always replaces the money. He said a few days later, she did replace the $20. Once again, and as I told him, this is what he’s gonna get with most people, let alone a druggie, and also, he should be going to his roommate with problems he has with her and not the boyfriend or me first.

Later…

In my written gay journal that I’ve typed here too, along with all the others, the page I’m on now says: The day we stop resisting our instincts, we’ll have learned how to live. What about those who are forced to resist their instincts? Huh? Guess I’ll never learn how to live.

I also got a kick out of the quote that talked about people being under the illusion that gays want sex and straights want love. Everyone wants sex. That’s all the bulk of the population wants, regardless of sexual preference.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking of Andy and I feel really mad and bad for him. Both God and people really have double standards with some people. What’s acceptable of most just isn’t acceptable of all. Leave it to him to not be able to get away with the same types of conversations that the others can get away with, even though he does have a big mouth. And once again, if all good things come to those who wait, and if God wants to see love in this world and wants to help those who help themselves, where’s he been all Andy’s life? Where’s the love and other good things he’s been waiting for?

Andy also told me that some cook teasingly pinches his tit, he doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t go running to file a complaint about it. Yeah, I know what he’s saying. He wouldn’t, but the bulk of the world would, cuz he, like me and a few others in this world, isn’t allowed to get away with doing wrong and we’re not allowed to have the normal everyday things in life. I also don’t believe in running to the courts to solve your problems for the most part, if you can help it. I can see if some company owes you money or something like that and you go to small claims court, but I really would’ve preferred to beat the shit out of them last year than even discuss court with Tom, but I felt obligated to make the promise of not hurting them to him. It meant that much to him, although, if I went to court over the dog or the music, first of all, they’d more than likely do nothing. Second of all, even if they took away their dog and car (if they were still blasting in and out of here), and fined them, they’d just pay the fines and get a new dog and car. And if they didn’t, they’d go get some other source of noise. And also, this would increase the risk of them doing anything to the house, whereas if I kicked their asses, they’d be too scared and embarrassed to even come near this house. Well, nearer than the 3 feet that these psychos already are.

I know what it’s like to be under the submission of fear, pain, and anger, cuz I’ve been attacked before. It’s wrong when it comes to children, but sometimes other adults must put fear and pain into other adults in order to get them to do right and I know firsthand that it works. Back when I was either a child or too much of a damn wimp to fight back, I was either scared or hurt enough to do exactly what I was told to do. Fear and pain will control someone and if you’re mad enough and if you really want to, you can take just about anyone you want to and drive enough pain and fear into them to keep them in line.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 1, 1997 Andy left me a message saying it’s been a “long time” since we talked and that he has things to tell me that he doesn’t want to discuss on the machine. So I called him back and said it had only been 4 or 5 days since we talked. He said it had been 6 days. Wow! I told him I liked that, though, cuz it made it more fun to talk when we finally do, but if he could have his way, he’d talk to me for hours just about every day. No thanks. That’s too much for me and that gets boring. Besides, I like to do other things.

His parents still haven’t found him a car and this sexual harassment thing with this guy at work, isn’t over like he thought it was. The guy transferred to another restaurant, but he’s filed a formal complaint within the company. A man from Human Resources came in to interview everyone. Andy said he seemed like a fair man, but that this Spanish interpreter that interviewed some other employee seemed to give him both shocking and disgusting looks.

He said he was pissed off that he couldn’t be a part of all the interviews and know what they were saying, since it’s about him, and he’s worried that pages of the explicit sexual things he’s discussed with others will be written. I told him to let people use their brains and pens to think and write what they want. He knows the truth. Also, these cases are very hard to prove and usually, in most criminal cases, the defendant has more rights than the plaintiff does. They get more protection, freedom and privileges.

I hear him when he says that all the workers there constantly talk about sex, it’s everyone’s favorite subject, the world is full of sluts, I know he was just spilling his sexual life to this guy that spilled his first, and that this guy’s not his type, but it’s an unfair world. I can’t get away with the things most people get away with and it appears that he can’t either. It’s one thing to be yourself, but it’s another to open your mouth in the workplace and get involved in any personal discussions. Like I said, a lot of people can do that with no problem, but some can’t. He’s got to shut up and accept the fact that he can’t get away with the discussions that most people can get away with.

It’s really too bad that he can’t find love so that he’s not so bored and lonely, but then again, he may very well go to work spilling the details of what he did with that love, too. Still, it’d be nice if God allowed him some true love in his life, but he obviously doesn’t care to and won’t be helping him any more than he’d ever help me with my dreams. Why God feels such a need to control us, beats me. Why would any God want to deny the things that all people should have to anyone? Things like love and children that especially the good and deserving people should have.

I finished proofreading the Vista file and have 40 journals left to go. Some are short and some are long.

My weight’s still holding at 104 lbs. I don’t know if I’ll ever lose anymore. I could if I were willing to either starve myself or work out for hours a day, but I’m just too lazy to do either of these things.

Unfortunately, Tom proved that he does hold out and lie about things. He held out on telling me after I commented on how cruel it was to leave a dog outside 24/7, that when he was working on the roof, he saw her come out and take the dog inside (probably only cuz they saw him on the roof and were afraid he might shoot the fucking thing). He said he held out on telling me this cuz I seem to get angry when he mentions them. Well, he has a point, cuz I can’t stand these people, but what else has he held out on? If I was asleep and he was to hear their music, would he tell me? Or would he cover for them for fear of me harming them? Or did he make up seeing her take the dog inside for the simple sake of loving to argue/disagree with me?

On the second day that I was really tight, he offered to switch back to the cooler, but I told him I’d be fine when I gave this place a thorough cleaning. Then, he said that he’d like to switch back for him. Now, I can see that he saw that I felt guilty about the idea of costing too much money and that he wanted to do what he thought was best to make me feel better, but he’s told me that if he lived here himself, he’d never use the AC and I believe that. So see? He would lie to get his way.

[helpinghanikan]

Stay in Sight

Sum: Tangerine isn't supposed to be doing anything too dangerous while he's recovering. The same isn't said for you.

AN: I'm sorry to who requested this that it took a minute. Work hit me with OT so I wrote this on my phone during breaks. Please excuse the grammar.

Saturday night at the mall is a busy place. It’s a big building, an easy place to get lost in or to lose someone in. Barely an hour in the building and already three different announcements were made for kids to meet their families at the front.

Tangerine was about to the be the next one.

“Stupid, mustached, sexy idiot…” You muttered while sliding through the contacts. Looking over the banister as if Tangerine will be one floor down, staring right up at you and waving. “Better answer.”

It’s only been three weeks since Tangerine was carried to your door. Covered in blood, a hole in his throat sew together by a back-alley doctor and breathing just enough to prove that he wasn’t dead. Lemon looked exhausted, but he was the only one in control during this time. Good thing, too. Otherwise the neighbors would have heard your screams at seeing Tangerine like this.

The first week was spent with Tangerine in bed. You and Lemon took shifts sitting by his side. To make sure that the wound was clean, but also to be sure that the idiot didn’t try to get up before he was at least a bit better.

A few rings and your call goes to voice mail. Of course Tangerine wouldn’t answer, this was likely his plan all along. Go out somewhere and then sneak away the moment you let go of his hand. He’s being trying to do this since you let him get up from bed: whether it was to visit the gym, pick up some food or even just take a piss you were making sure he wasn’t doing something else.

“We’re taking that two-month vacation, Babe. Whether you like it or not.” You had told him one night when he wanted to step out for a smoke. He had smiled when you said that. Which was probably when you should have known he was already planning something.

Next option was Lemon. Quickly scrolling your contacts until the little fruit emoji showed.

One ring and he picked up; “What’s up?”

“Where’s Tangerine?” You ask, still scanning over the people from the second-floor banister.

“Well, hello to you too, Love. I don’t get a greeting or nothing?” Lemon says with a fake voice of sorrow. He is definitely part of Tangerine’s plan.

“Lemon, please…”

“He’s alright, I swear. He’s just doing some shopping.”

Shopping, at least he wasn’t lying about needing to stop by the mall. Just trying to find him would be the real bear.

“You know where he is, then? Is he safe?” You were starting to sound like a concerned mother more than a girlfriend right now. “Damn it, Lemon, I just got him back.”

Lemon, always the big brother, is quick to change his voice. “Hey, hey. It’s gonna be okay. I’m worried just like you, ‘kay? But he’s not going anywhere and I’m making sure of it this time.”

“You’re watching him right now, aren’t you?” You ask.

“’course I am.” He says although he claimed to have had a date today and couldn’t come. “I’m not letting that prick out of my sight either. And I hope you like pearls ‘cause he’s spending our last two jobs on them.”

Usually you would have laughed at that comment. But slight pressure of a person stepping into your space made you silent. It wasn’t Tangerine who was suddenly so close you could be spooning. Even if you didn’t have this conversation with Lemon you couldn’t pretend Tangerine was right behind you.

Tangerine was a firm presence with a cool, sometimes cold, feeling in his hands. It made goosebumps on your arms when he touches you. It excites when he finally talks after placing a kiss on your head. This person wasn’t Tangerine, but they certainly were a threat.

Especially when they leaned into your ear and whispered; “If you don’t want him to have another hole in his neck. You’ll hang up.”

“I wouldn’t mind moving him towards something else if you-.” Lemon was interrupted by the practical slamming of your phone. Silencing the only contact to your man or your friend you hand.

“Good girl,” The stranger seemingly coos. Sliding their hand into yours like a lover. “Very good girl. Now come along.”

The stranger was a woman. A non-descript white woman who would fit in with the countless other college students meandering around. Perhaps just a few years older and with quit a bit more confidence. She pulls your hand close, forcing you into her side where she puts an arm around you. Your phone now hers as she slides it into her coat like it’s no big deal.

“Sorry you’re part of this,” She says, voice low next to your head. “But a debts’ gotta be paid and you’re the only money Tangerine’s got.”

It’s pointless to ask but you do so anyway; “Who are you?”

He smiles like you are just oh-so-cute. “I’m your new best friend, Baby. Let’s go for a ride.”

The mall was still busy and seemed to be only made worse by the situation. This woman held you too close to try and slip away from. If she’s anything like the people Tangerine and Lemon usually deal with there would be no point in trying anyway. Best case scenario you would make some distance. Worst case and Tangerine is dead, along with several bystanders who have no way of knowing what is going on.

On the escalator a family denim jacket and tie peaks out from the crowd on the lower floor. Although he was a big man Lemon was pretty good at blending in with the crowd. Especially when he just stand next to a protein shack or some other gym bros and not look a bit out of place.

He make eye-contact and only needs a light shake of your head to understand. His own phone out and talking into with a smile. Totally not talking to Tangerine or anything, and certainly not walking in your same direction for any particular reason.

Into the parking garage and This woman is walking faster. She doesn’t give off any other impression than someone wanting to get their girl home real fast. The only hitch in the camouflage was the Cobalt taking a sharp turn right in front of you. Trunk ready to be opened.

Fear and logic two warriors fighting in your head. On one hand the fear makes you think of the trunk. A second location means nothing but death. If you don’t go in then Tangerine is gone. Lemon will have to live through his brother’s death again or killed himself.

On the other hand logic tells you to scream. Shove This woman hard as you can and starting running just as strong. Normal circumstance says that they won’t bother chasing if you run into a populated area screaming. It’s usually not worth the risk. Usually.

You don’t have time to think about which warrior you want to win. Metal is already hitting your knees and gravity takes you forward. Face first into the dark trunk that is quickly slammed shut behind you. Nothing to look for and nothing to find but the rough ground and harsh sides you could never hope to punch through.

“Lemon! LEMON!” You immediately start screaming, open hands slamming on the trunk roof. “Get Tangerine! Get Tangerine!”

Your man was still injured; he had left the apartment today with a pretty white bandage around his throat. You were gently when placing it on. Giving him a soft kiss when you were done. Smiling when he chuckled at the gesture. Demanding one onto his mouth as well.

The car takes a sharp right turn and you still almost feel his facial hair during that kiss. It’s almost enough to distract you from being slammed around from all the turning and sharp takes.

“Where is Tangerine?!” You scream, sure that they can hear you. “He better be okay!”

Although you yelled this like a threat, it wasn’t like you could do anything. These people weren’t like normal thugs and punks on the street. Who would run away at a warning shot into the ground or surprised by a brave victim. These were the kind of people who were after revenge against Tangerine.

Based on his past it’s not surprising that Tangerine would have enemies like this. What little you knew about his work usually meant there were always hurt parties left behind. Widows and orphans made from a single job that neither Tangerine nor Lemon cared to really remember. It was just another workday for them.

A few more turns and then it’s a straight shot for at least an hour. Long enough that you fell asleep in the warm trunk. Curling close until your knees were as high as they could go while waiting for the car to finally stop.

You don’t wake up when the car stops, only when someone slams a hand on the trunk hood. They don’t open the trunk, but they do keep hitting it. Again and again slamming into the metal that threatened to cave in, although that might just be a dramatic thought. Didn’t make it any less scary though.

Through the metal you can hear the voice of This woman and a male. Neither seeming to care that you might be able to hear through it.

“Going after wives are never good. We’re fucked the moment she dies.” The male says.

“Tit-for-tat, Tangerine take’s my boy I take his girl. If he wants to show up and make it worse then he’s gone too. That’s how it works, that’s what makes it fair.” This woman says, another hard slam to the trunk.

“Murders never- fucking move!” The man yells just before a massive impact hits the side of the car you are still trapped in.

While you are rocked completely upside down the car is now sideways. Pain and bruises will be covering you in the next few seconds and are going to stay for days to come. Especially when you landed so hard on your side. Only thing you’re able to see is the slightly cracked glass of a taillight peeking out from the trunk carpet.

A concussion is very likely with massive of a headache. Shooting, shouting and profanity make it all worse. Not that you can take a second to lean forward and cradle your head from the pain. Not when your trunk is given light through bullet holes appearing just over your head.

“I’M STILL IN HERE!” You screamed, as if that was going to make it stop.

When it obviously doesn’t stop you look back to the taillight. Using all your strength to rip the carpet away just enough. Cringing at the pain of broken glass and mental poking and cutting into your arm while reaching out to your elbow. Waving around, grabbing the ground, and tossing whatever you could get your hands on. All the while yelling for someone to remember that you were still there.

“I see you; oh, baby, fuck yes I see you!” Tangerine, or Tangerine’s voice at least, pants just outside the trunk. His strong hand, long finger, grab hold of your so tightly he could have cracked a finger. “Stay here. Just wait.”

He’s gone just as fast as you had found him. Leaving your hand grasping the empty air as stones scrunched under his feet as he ran.

“Lemon! Got a crowbar? Or a screw or a fucking bat? Something?” Tangerine yells.

“How about the car keys, mate?” Lemon yells back, jingling in the air.

It was more than a little bit dramatic the way you fell out of the trunk. Tangerine there to catch you before you could have landed on the hard ground. He holds you close enough that no one would be able to separate you again.

At least until Lemon shows up and ruins the moment.

“Who the fuck was that, man?” He asks, gesturing almost wildly at the two bodies next to the car you had just escaped from.

If there is something Tangerine and Lemon know how to do; it’s killing. This woman, who had started it all, was left mangled from the initial impact of Tangerine reaching the scene. She never had a chance when Tangerine knew she was the one who had taken you.

The man looked to have lasted longer. Having hidden behind the car and participating in a shoot out that only lasted a couple seconds, into a few minutes.

Tangerine quickly turns your head from the bodies. Not that he was looking much better, either. His hair was a mess, some splatter had gotten onto his nice white shirt, and his bandage was bleeding again. You reach out to the bandage, covering the growing red with your hand as if you could heal it with your touch alone.

“You said we’d stick together today.” You said. Almost angry, almost crying.

He cups your face. “I’m a fucking mess, I’m sorry. Fuck, love, I’m so sorry.”

It didn’t really matter how much he apologized. This was part of his life, therefore it made it part of yours. He can make promises and even try to quit but we all know that wasn’t going to happen. Not when the movie was so good, not when Lemon was with him until the end, and especially not when you never asked him to.

“Let’s go back to the apartment, please.” You asked, staring straight to tangerine to avoid looking at your kidnapper and what was left of her.

Lemon drove while Tangerine sat shot gun. No one talked, not until you moved Tangerine’s coat and felt the box inside. Black velvet, large enough for a necklace and earrings. Perhaps even a bit more.

“What’s this?” You asked, making tangerine jolt a bit from the surprise.

He looks at the box and sighs. Taking it from your hands, popping it open to show exactly what you expected. A row of pearls and earrings, salt-water raised, and silver chain to hold them together. “Completely forgot I snatched that.”

“I thought you were doing better?” Lemon asked, rather accused, Tangerine.

“I am or was. It was an emergency, Lemon. I didn’t have time to get in the queue!” Tangerine spat, not noticing when you slipped the box back from his hands.

“All I’m hearing is an excuse, man.” Lemon retorted.

You looked good in the earrings and necklace. Leaning forward between their seats tog et a better look at them. Only then Tangerine notice when you were close enough he could place a sweet kiss on your cheek.

“You look lovely,” He says.

“I better, because you owe me so much more than stolen jewelry.” You reply. Both as a joke and as a reminder.

[average-entropy]

Dear @glimmerglanger,

I can’t properly express the joy that your writing gives me, it’s beautiful and painful and it makes me FEEL things, and it’s wonderful. So, since it’s your birthday I thought that I should do my best to give the same in turn. I have some writing in the by the sea verse that I did after those fics snatched my soul from my chest and merrily danced away with it that I’ve dug out from the WIP pile on my computer and copy pasted under the cut below. It’s all very rough and outlined and unfinished, but if you enjoy gift fic, in honor of your birthday please have this loose pile of strings I had in my pocket.

Best wishes for your day and the year ahead!

(Also p.s. I apologize for any formatting errors. I have lurked on this hellsite for many years, but am but a humble posting novice).

Story One – Fives Lives because (sobs) reasons

//One year after his marriage to Cody, Obi-wan finds Fives, in this fic he’s only “dead” and has been instead captured by sociopathic rich men (led by the one, the only, Sheev palpatine) who want to make him into an exhibit but first must figure out how to not have him look dead all the damn time >:( #millionare problems.

 //How did Fives get captured? If he’s Eyeyah’s twin then canonically he’s too young to be in battle, and in canon curiosity is (literally :_(  fff) his fatal flaw. So maybe Fives was the little mermaid of his family, just really curious about the surface and ships and humans and basically everything that anyone ever told him to stay away from. And then one day he ended up beaching himself/straying too close to a fishing net or boat and ending up captured.

 //Did his family just assume that he went out exploring and the shark riders got him? For maximum hurt, did he get hurt on Rex’s watch? Maybe Fives and Eyeyah begged to shadow Rex on the front, and Rex was like, fine, but you have to stay with the healers, promise me. and they were like, I’m not gonna leave the caaave, and then Fives fucking left the cave.

 //So, either immediately or eventually he ends up in the clutches of rich man asshole sheev palpatine and his rich man asshole friends. If he was captured by a local fisherman, and sold, then sheev like for sure had tarkin shoot them to protect the secrecy of his investment or whatever, which would make Obi-wan’s eventual rescue of Fives all the dicey in Fives’ mind, like he sees money changing hands (or trying to) before Sheev and his cronies get merked by Obi-wan and he’s like oh look, the girls are fighting again, guess this guy owns me now

 Linebreak***

 Cody is visiting, when the letter comes in. It’s on thick, expensive paper, and back dated about a month or so. It’s addressed to him, but has apparently taken a rather circuitous route to get here; it was sent originally to the offices of one of the journals he publishes for, and from there to the post office box he retains for business, in a city down the coast, and then in the monthly forward to his post office box in town, where he goes weekly to collect his mail and pick up various foods and delicacies for his new in-laws.

 “What is this?” Cody asks, enunciating each word carefully. Now that Obi-wan is learning more and more Mando, there’s really no need for him to speak English, but he insists. He wants to learn Obi-wan’s language, he says, just as Obi-wan is learning his. Cody pauses, a teasing look crossing his face. “Love letter?”

 Obi-wan snorts, curling his hand over Cody’s shoulder where he’s leaning on the little dock built out directly out from Obi-wan’s home. “Hardly. Business letter. Let’s see …”

 He reads over it and finds himself tsking in annoyance. More rich men gotten in over their heads, trying to keep some poor aquatic creature in a tiny tank for exhibit and wondering why it doesn’t thrive there as it does in the ocean. He hates these jobs, but he’s worked before, discretely, with the authorities to get some of the men arrested on charges of poaching and the animals released, so it’s worth it to go. To try.

 “More fish in cages?” Cody asks, reading Obi-wan’s expression. He’s gotten frightfully good at it, better than anyone Obi-wan ever knew besides Anakin, and though it frightens him a little, it warms him inside; fills him, with a kind of quiet wonder.

 “Yes, I fear so.” Obi-wan sighs. “Quite far away, this time … I can tell them no.”

 “Why?” Cody asks, frowning. He switches over to Mando’a. “Why would you tell them no?”

 “Because you just got here, and I’d be gone for a few weeks, at the least-”

 Cody makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “I leave for my work. I do it all the time.”

 “Oh, but that’s,” Obi-wan waves his hand back and forth, the letter rustling as he does. “That’s different, your work is important-”

 “So is yours,” Cody says, tugging at both of Obi-wan’s hands until Obi-wan relents and meets his eyes. “And even if it weren’t, it’s important to you. I don’t expect you to just … wait around here for me. You’ve made yourself a life; it’s … you have the right to live it.”

 “Oh,” Obi-wan says dumbly, and Cody’s eyes go sad and wounded.

 “I don’t want you trapped here,” he says, more softly, brushing his thumbs over the back of Obi-wan’s hands. “I’m sorry if I made you feel as though I did.”

 “No, no,” Obi-wan says softly, in Mando’a, before switching back to English, where his thoughts are easier to articulate. “It was nothing that you did. I just … I want to make you happy.”

 “You already make me happy,” Cody says fervently, pressing closer to Obi-wan and nuzzling against his stomach. Obi-wan blushes, can’t not, and Cody makes a pleased click. “So happy. You’re my heart – it doesn’t matter where you go. We’re always together.”

 “Alright,” Obi-wan agrees. “I’ll go.”

 Linebreak***

 Cody, Wolv and even Kix are adamantly in favor of sending at least a guard or two with him, but it’s much farther north than Obi-wan usually goes and he’s worried that this time of year especially the water will be too cold for merfolk. Or at least, a Mandalorian or a Togrutan. It’s possible that so far away there are different Mermaid societies, perfectly adapted to the cold. And if there are other Mermaid kingdoms there, what if Obi-wan bringing in a foreigner sparks some kind of war? That’s the last thing that they need. It’s not worth it, for something that’s so low risk.

 None of his new family agree. It seems that Obi-wan is the only human they trust, and that in particular there are no humans they are willing to trust specifically with Obi-wan. Apparently the spot of charred land where Obi-wan’s cabin used to stand still looms freshly in everyone’s minds. But at the end of the day, unless they want to have him tailed – which Obi-wan honestly wouldn’t put past Wolv, but which he knows Cody would never allow – there’s nothing they can really do. He agrees to an escort across the ocean, but holds firm on going up the coast alone, and so it’s near the site of his old cabin that Obi-wan parts from Cody and the guard and continues north with only Boga and his sidearm to accompany him.

 Linebreak***

 //When Obi-wan gets to Palpatine’s offices the sheer volume of shady vibes they have going on is enough to make him certain that these guys are poachers. And since Palpatine is Too Rich ™ to remember names (of plebes) he’s like, to Ameda and Tarkin, “oh yes, this is the marine biologist, Dr…?”

 //And Obi-wan’s like … vibe check failed, my name is … Ben Sky.

 //And they’re like nice to meet you Dr. Sky, thank you so much for coming, let’s go upstairs, this is a private matter.  And they lead him up to Palpatine’s private office, Tarkin, Palpatine and Amedda all supremely amused for some reason, in a very discomforting way. Obi-wan’s like, ew, lets just get this over with, so the second the door is closed he’s like, alright so what kind of shark do you have and how big is it.

 //And palpatine’s like (evil smile) oh, my dear doctor, it’s no shark at all. It would be easiest if you just … took a look. And so he goes over to the safe to get a key out – and Obi-wan sees the gun inside and is like, great, gut feeling confirmed – and uses it to open the steel door to his closet.

 //Inside which is a person sized tank. With a merman in it. A Mandalorian merman. And Obi-wan freezes.

 //The others obviously see his shock and they’re laughing about it, like oh ho isn’t it so funny, look at his face, while meanwhile Obi-wan’s categorizing all the damage that’s been done to this person by keeping them in the tank, oh god, but if he knows how to do one thing it’s how to compartmentalize, so he’s like, okay, get a grip, how are we going to play this.

 //So he very carefully gathers himself up and pretends that he’s never seen a merman before in his goddamn life, makes them convince them this is actually real and not some sort of freakish embalmed corpse sewn onto a fishtail type thing. And so then Palpatine’s like great, it’s clearly dying and we can’t exhibit it like this, how do we fix it. And Obi-wan’s like, how should I know, it shouldn’t even exist, and Palpatine’s like, humor me (and I’ll pay you like a million dollars)

 //And Obi-wan’s like, fine, if I had to guess the tank is too small. The most common reason sharks die in captivity is because they don’t have big enough tanks. I’d recommend just building it an enclosure in the ocean, to be honest, rather than trying to haul that much salt water in in a day. And do it fast, too, it looks like it’s on it’s last legs.

 //And Palpatine and Amedda and Tarkin are like mmm yes I see, fascinating, and Ammeda’s like, we have that boathouse, and Palpatine’s like yes, that would be perfect, how soon can you have it ready, Tarkin, and Tarkin’s like – tomorrow night if you can pay well enough.

 //And Palpatine’s like, wonderful, and he writes down the address for Obi-wan and is like, we’ll meet you there tomorrow night, so you can make sure what we’ve built is sufficient, and then we’ll give you your fee. Thanks for doing business. Let me shake your hand and threaten with my eyes that if you tell anyone we’ll kill you, oh truly this was a pleasure

 //And Obi-wan’s like great. See you then. And then he does some shopping. Beginning with snagging Palpatine’s gun, out of his safe.

 Linebreak***

 Obi-wan doesn't allow himself to think of what he's doing as he's doing it. He learned, in the army, how not to acknowledge that you were killing someone as you killed them. How to push it down, and lock it away, as long as you could, until eventually later it overtook you…

 Obi-Wan shoots Amedda and Tarkin quick as a blink. Good shots, clean shots. The bullet Tarkin tried to fire goes wide, shattering a window, and Palpatine jerks in his grip.

 Obi-wan keeps him still until he's sure the other two are down and then moves around to his front. His hands are steady as he keeps the barrel of his gun leveled at Palpatine's heart.

 "Dr. Sky," the man says, hands up. Even with his two compatriots lying dead on the floor, bleeding out over the scattered bills - his tone is still smooth and composed, still so sickly sweet. Monster, Obi-wan can’t help but think. "Ben. You don't have to do this. Whoever it is, that you're working for, I'm sure you and I can come to a better arrangement. Money is not the only thing I can offer you-"

 Obi-wan plucks Tarkin's dropped gun up off the floor and shoots. Once, twice, three times, the first one through Palpatine's heart and the other two wild, to make it look as though Tarkin was firing as he went down. Palpatine falls, with a gurgling gasp, the same kind as Obi-wan's heard so many times before...

 No. No. He doesn't have time for one of his fits. if the police come, while the merman is still here, then the consequences will be catastrophic. He sets Tarkin's gun back down exactly where it had originally landed and curls the one he swiped from the safe in the offices into Palpatine’s hand. And then he goes, to crouch down by the pool.

 The merman is watching him with narrowed, dark eyes. He hasn't flashed any color,  but his spikes are halfway out, and really, if Obi-wan just saw someone murder three people in cold blood, he'd be wary too.

 He strips off his gloves and shoves them into his pockets. His hands are numb and shaky, but he un-buttons his shirt as fast as he can and peels it aside to display the mark that sits large and prominent over his heart. The merman jerks, eyes going wide, and Obi-wan holds them steadily as he says, “I am here for helping you. Swear by Sho’cye. Please let me helping you. Please.”

 “You speak,” the man says, voice raw and rough with emotion. “You are … you are a Mandalorian’s heart?”

 “Yes,” Obi-wan agrees. “And he is my heart. Not hurting him, ever. Not hurting you either. But other humans will come soon, because of … weapon noise. Need to leaving, quickly. Before they see you.”

 “Yes,” the man says, shaking himself as if coming out of a daze. “Yes, we need to – do you know how to … how to get this cage away?”

 “I do but … coming into water for that. Cutting through.” Obi-wan holds up the shears he’s brought for that purpose. “Is this okay?”

 The man hesitates for a moment, but then he nods. Obi-wan nods back, and slips into the water. He weakens enough of the wires as he can, and then heaves, until the metal rends and he’s able to pull back a segment of the fencing. And then there’s nothing too it, but for him and the man to swim through.

 He leads the man out into the bay, to where he’s anchored the Memory, glad to see that by the look of things no one has bothered it. Boga is still lounging on the deck, and the light is still shining in the cabin.

 “Your boat?” The man asks, eying it warily as Obi-wan swims up to it, and Obi-wan nods.

 “I’ll be leaving you here, if you prefer. Or you can swimming beside boat as we go back. But I can be also giving you ride; taking care of you. You’re being very injured, I think. I am worrying that … the better it would be if you were gotten back fast. To your people, and the healers. I’m not knowing well how to help you.”

 He knows, certainly, much better that he did when he found Cody. But he’s not a doctor, for either of their species, and he knows that there are treatments specifically for merfolk that he can’t offer.

 The man – the young man, really, older than Eyeyah but not by much – wavers. And Obi-wan can’t blame him. He can guess how the others captured him. It likely involved a boat, much like this. But the man’s eyes flicker back down to Obi-wan’s open shirt, to the mark on his chest. And he nods.

 Obi-wan dives down and shows him the hatch under the boat, how to get in and out, and that seems to ease him further. He’s waiting, in the pool inside the cabin when Obi-wan and Boga come in. Boga wags her tail, but Obi-wan forces her to sit by the door, where she collapses with a whine, laying her head on her paws and making cow eyes at him. But the poor man’s been through enough without having to submit to the eager sniffs and licks of an unfamiliar creature.

 “What is that,” the man asks, eying her warily.

 “A dog – a pet, like an octopus. But very friendly – not hurting. And I keeping her away.” Obi-wan draws a little closer, and sets the bucket and bowl he’s brought down by the edge of the pool. “Here. For eating. I bring more, but, looks like they not feeding you well. So many small meals are being better. Keep you from sick.”

 The man glances, at Obi-wan’s chest, where his tattoo is still visible under the sopping fabric of his shirt. He reaches into the bucket, selects a fish, and dives a little further into the pool to eat. But he thanks Obi-wan as he goes, and that’s progress.

 Linebreak***

 Before now, Obi-wan has only ever committed one type of crime in his life, but though he is new to … murder, at least the illegal kind, he knows how bad it would be for him to flee town immediately. So he remains at the docks for the night, enquires at Palpatine’s offices in the morning, and then goes back to the boat to wait.

 He’s tried his best to explain to the merman why they would not be heading underway immediately, and though he didn’t look exactly pleased with the news, he doesn’t immediately flee out the hatch. He spends most of his time alternating between sleeping and eating; which, Obi-wan can only hope, will at least put him in a position to better survive if he does ultimately decide to strike out on his own. Obi-wan tries to give him his space, and spends most of his time out on the deck with Boga, reading or working on his most recent manuscript.

 On the third day, the police finally come. There are only two of them. Hopefully they would have brought more, if they were come to arrest a man who’d murdered three people.

 He walks himself down to the lower deck, Boga trotting happily by his side, as they clearly pause in front of his slip. “Hello, can I help you?”

 “We’re looking for a marine biologist?” the older of the two asks – the younger one seems preoccupied with patting Boga, who’s jumping up and wagging her tail with glee.

 “That would be me – well, I didn’t go to school for it, so perhaps it’s a bit presumptuous to claim as such. But I have published, in scientific journals and the like.”

 The officer nods politely, but doesn’t look all that interested in the specificities of Obi-wan’s professional qualifications. “And what do you know of a man called Sheev Palpatine?”

 Obi-wan’s mouth turns down with a displeasure that he does not try to hide. “That I suspected him of poaching; though if you’re here asking me about him, I suppose you already know that.”

 The younger one opens his mouth, no doubt to try to correct Obi-wan as to why they’re actually here, but the older one gestures him to be quiet. “And why did you suspect that.”

 “Well, he’d written to me, asking me to come out and see some large aquatic creature that he caught, that was not adjusting well to life in captivity. I have the letter somewhere, here amongst my papers, if you’d like …”

 The older officer nods, and Obi-wan goes up to the top deck to fetch it. The older passes it off to the younger to review, and gestures for Obi-wan to continue.

 “It’s not uncommon for me to receive such letters, and they’re usually from men who’ve managed somehow to get their hands on sharks, either to keep as pets or to exhibit. For all the wealthy seem to be enthralled with them, sharks do not do well in captivity – they die quickly. So their owners panic, and rush to me to try to protect their investment. I suspected this was the situation Mr. Palpatine had gotten himself in, and so I agreed to come, to see what manner of creature it was. And suspecting that if it was indeed a shark, it was almost certain that …”  

 “He’d poached it,” the older officer fills in, lips turning down, and Obi-wan nods.

 “Some smaller species of shark are legal to own – but most are either captured illegally, or bought and sold on the black market. When I went to his offices, to meet with him, he was incredibly cagey. I asked outright what the animal was that he had, but he’d only describe it in broad terms … approximate size, what kind of tank it was kept it, the like. I told him time and time again that it would be difficult to help him if he wouldn’t tell me what it was, let alone whether or not I could see the creature, but he was reluctant. I finally just recommend that he secure a much larger area for it to swim, since that never hurts, and suggested that perhaps once it was relocated, I could see it in person. He said he would contact me in a day or two, but he never did.”

 “Was anyone else in this meeting with him?”

 “Yes. A friend of his – another fop to be frank – called Amedda, who was investing in the project, and another man, Tarkin … he honestly seemed a rather unsavory character, and he never really said what his exact role in all of it was.”

 The officers exchange a look, and the older one nods.

 “It’s … nothing we’ve ever been able to prove, but it’s common knowledge that he’s – was – mobbed up,” the younger one nods. “Based on what you’re telling us, I’d guess that he one that obtained the animal in question. His crime family is well connected to the blank market.”

 “Was,” Obi-wan says, and the older officer shuffles around, pulling some pictures out of a briefcase.

 “He was killed, a couple days ago, in what seems to have been a violent altercation between him, Mr. Palpatine and Mr. Amedda. It seems as though they took your advice. They were in a boathouse, down by the warf, recently purchased, and they’d fenced off an area of the water. We also found a dried out tank in their offices, so presumably this was was where they’d moved whatever it was that they had.”

 “Presumably? You mean, you didn’t find it there.”

 The man shuffles through his pictures to find the one he wants, and passes it over to Obi-wan. It’s of the section of the wire, that he cut. He studies over it, before passing his back.

 “Looking that, I’m almost positive that it was a shark, and just as large as they’d claimed, too, to have been strong enough to rend the wire like that.”

 “You really think a shark would be that smart?” The younger one asks, a bit doubtfully, and Obi-wan shrugs.

 “Smart, perhaps not, but very practiced. The great whites are drawn to the lobster traps, especially when they’re young and inexperienced and looking for an easy meal. Eventually some of them figure out how to get into them, through trial and error. Talk to any trapper, and they can show you a dozen of their larger boxes ripped up just like this.”

 “You’re making me glad it was gone before we’d gotten there,” the younger officers says, grimacing.

 “We’d thought that one of them had let it go, or tried to steal it, and that’s what set off the argument.” The older officer says, a questioning tilt to his tone.

 “It’s possible, but I think unlikely, if only because I’d imagine that whoever attempted such a thing would have ended up … somewhat perforated. It’s a myth, that sharks attack people, at least the wild ones. They mostly only attack when provoked, like all large animals. But they’re not necessarily picky eaters, if they’re truly hungry enough, and those in captivity, that have been cooped up and underfed – will bite first and ask questions later, if given the chance.”

 “Now I’m really glad it was gone before we got there,” the younger officer mutters, eyes wide. “Guess if it got out on its own they still could have suspected eachother, anyway.”

 “Either that, or tempers started running hot when they realized their cash cow’d escaped,” the older officer says tiredly, tucking his photos away. “You tie up a lot of money in something and then that thing’s gone? That’s when the guns usually come out, especially with the mob involved. The only thing we gotta worry about now is a pissed shark out in the harbor. You think this thing’s going to stick around, head for the beaches?”

 “I’d doubt it; it will naturally be drawn back to deeper waters on it’s own. And I think it’s had quite enough of people for a lifetime,” Obi-wan says, and none of that is even a lie.

The older officer snorts. “Haven’t we all. Well, we appreciate you talking to us, helping us tie up some loose ends. This is all pretty open and shut, we’ll probably have it closed out by the end of the week. You mind we take down your address, of that letter, just in case we need it later?”

 Obi-wan gives them the number of his city PO Box, says he’s frequently on the water but he sees everything usually in a month or two. They seem unbothered by this, and with one last pat to Boga, amble off the way they came.

 It was all so very easy, in the end, except for the chill, still lingering in his chest.

 They set out the next morning, after Obi-wan’s done a night’s worth of fishing, and stocked up in the city on whatever else they might need. The man is still asleep, as they get underway, and so Obi-wan leaves him his plate of food and dives down to secure the bottom hatch himself, sealing it off against the water of the sea. He’ll leave it open at night, so his guest can leave, if he wants, but not while they’re moving. It won’t do either of them any good if he gets sucked right out into the ocean.

 He makes good time, managing to get a third of the way down the coast before pulling into a bay for the night and casting out the lines and diving down to open the hatch. Then, there’s nothing else for it to check on his guest.

 Linebreak***

 Reyshe’ase wakes to the feeling of vibrations, through the water, and for a second he thinks they’re the drums of home. But he quickly comes to his senses, and remembers where he is. He’s on the boat, of the impossible human, the one who has a Mandalorian heart. The human who said that they’d start moving, come morning, which would account for the vibrations. He’d warned Rayshe’ase that he’d be sealing the hatch, at the bottom, otherwise the current created by the movement would just suck Rayshe’ase out; and a quick dive refers that he’s done so. But even if this was all a trick, even if the human never opens that hatch again … it’s still better than where he was. More space, better food, and someone that can actually speak, properly speak, words that Rayshe’ase hasn’t heard in so long…

 The human has left him a lot more food than usual, and a … a note, whose characters he recognizes, heart leaping, even if they’re on a weird dry white thing, that crumples when touched. Mine guest, I must staying out to steering while we move, but please shouting need me. Am hoping I leave to you enough food for the day, but there is being more. If all are being well, I will coming back once we stop for the night, for checking on you.

 It's not signed with anything. Do the humans not have names, to call eachother by? Reyshe’ase has spent … too long, around them, but he’s tried his best to learn as little as he can of them. What more was there to learn, than that they were exactly as monstrous as they’d always been taught? His energies were better focused to remembering, on dreaming of home, of giving himself over to the stale, awful water of his prison and hoping that he’s just … fall asleep, and not wake up.

 Perhaps he’s gotten his wish, and this is all a dream. It seems fantastical enough.

 He spends the day just as he has the previous ones, swimming up to eat when his stomach wakes him, and then sinking down into the soft embrace of the water to sleep. This fresh lovely water, that makes it easy to rest, easy to reach for the pleasant memories of home in his dreams. They were at war, when he was taken, he knows. But in his dreams, he can return to his childhood, memories of him and all his brothers racing through the water at the edges of the cove, of going to the surface and daring eachother to poke their heads above water. Of sleeping, at night, curled up in bed with Eyeyah, their Mom’s soft singing coming close from the next room.

 He's woken for the first time not by his stomach, but by a noise down below, and his heart pounds in alarm until he realizes what it is; the human, unsealing the hatch at the bottom, so that Rayshe’ase can unhook the metal door and leave, if he wanted. Just like the human promised.

 He uses his dwindled strength to swim up so that his head, at least, is above the water. And waits.

 The human comes in with more buckets, the creature, and with … much less clothes. He only wears some small cloth around his waist, concealing where his body splits to form his legs, and nothing else. His skin is odd, and pale, and it only makes the ink on him stand out more sharply. The scars, too, so many; as many as Rayshe’ase’s father ever had. A warrior. And a long, beautiful string of pearls, strung around one of his legs in the same pattern a Mandalorian would string about their tail. Proof of marriage, proof that whosever heart he makes beat must love him dearly, to give such a lavish gift.

 The human tells the creature – who he calls useless, for some reason – to sit, as he always does, and it makes the same noise as it always does as it complies. He gives Rayshe’ase a tentative smile, and sets the buckets down by the edge of the pool.

 “We are stopping for the night. Brining you this, if you wanted for bathing.” He dips his hand into the bucket, and lifts it up, showing Rayshe’ase the … the sand, merciful Sho’cye, the sand, and he hears himself make a pained, desperate sound in the back of his throat, but it’s been so long since he’s been clean that the rot has sunk into his scales …

 He scrambles forward for it, sloshing water against the sides of the pool and out over the floor, but he doesn’t care, he seizes a handful of sand and scrubs, hard and fast against his tail. but he’s weak, so weak, and the sand drifts out of his hand as his arm falls away, he can’t even bathe himself …

 “Is okay,” the human is murmuring, soft and low. “Shh, shh, Is okay. I are helping, yes? I are helping you. Don’t worrying.”

 The human unlocks some sort of latch, and one of the walls that keeps water from splashing up out of the pool swings away. The human unrolls some sort of lumpy fabric thing on the floor, and then … and then he’s lifting Rayshe’ase up and out of it, so that his top half is spread out on the fabric thing, with his tail still in the water. The fabric thing, it’s soft, almost like a bed of kelp, and the whole arrangement becomes even more comfortable when the human slips carefully into the water and raises up some sort of platform that supports most of the weight of Rayshe’ase’s tail, so that he’s lying completely prone. He hasn’t been able to lie down in what feels like so long, he’s almost forgotten the feeling of it.  It’s glorious.

 “Okay?” The human asks, and Rayshea nods. The human swings another one of the walls away and sits so that his legs are left dangling in the water, the weird bend of them brushing against Rayshe’ase’s tail. He reaches over for the bucket, and lifts out a handful of sand. He meets Rayshe’ase’s eyes, and asks, carefully, “I helping you?”

 Rayshe’ase can’t say that he wants the human touching him, wants anyone touching him, but by Sho’cye he so wants to be clean. So he nods, and the human carefully starts sprinkling sand over his tail, and gently rubbing it through the dead scales and filth layering Rayshe’ase’s fin.

 The human goes slow, and careful, and stops whenever Rayshea’se makes pained noise, to slather on ointment that smells as though it could have come straight from Kix’s shelves. It didn’t – it must have been given to the human by his heart – but it still makes him flash with sorrow, still makes him shake, and the human hushes him gently, and starts to sing.

 Linebreak***

//After Rayshe’ase’s bath, Obi-wan asks if he wants to go down through the hatch and swim around a little, and when it becomes apparent that Fives can’t really swim at all, since he’s been trapped in a tank, Obi-wan’s like, okay, here’s what we’ll do, and makes a loose loop around Rayshe’ase’s chest, under his arms, and ties the other end of the rope around his waist, and swims around, dragging Rayshea’se through the water behind him.

 //And even though he’s not swimming it feels like he’s swimming and it’s a very emotional and comforting experience for him.

 //They repeat this process when they stop every night, having Rayshe’ase swim when he can and Obi-wan drag him when he can’t, to build his muscles back up, and this dispels any lingering doubts that Rayshea’se has that Obi-wan isn’t on the up and up, because he’s basically strengthening Rayshea’se up and giving him the means to escape, and Obi-wan leaves the hatch unlocked every night when they’re done, just like he promised.

 Linebreak***

 //Reyshea’se assumes that since Obi-wan has Mandalorian tattoos that his heart must be a Mandalorian inker, which makes sense to him because the inkers are the ones that go up to the surface the most often, to get materials for their dyes, so that’s probably how they met. And another Mandalorian wouldn’t have asked an inker to come and mark a human, that would be a literal death wish.

 //So when they introduce themselves, once Rayshea’se is feeling more up to talking, Rayshea’se doesn’t tell Obi-wan his real name, because every Mandalorian knows who he is, and if Obi-wan were to tell his heart that he met another Mandalorian named Rayshea’se Obi-wan’s heart would freak out that the  royal guard was coming to kill them and then Obi-wan. So he tells Obi-wan that his name is Shea.

 //So Obi-wan has no idea that it’s Cody’s brother. There is a strong resemblance, but he’s already met all of Cody’s family. So he’s like, must be a funny coincidence. Nice to meet you,  Shea.

 //Rayshe’ase’s also figured out that Obi-wan’s inker hasn’t told Obi-wan that their relationship isn’t illegal from a Mandalorian perspective, and Obi-wan has no idea the danger his heart’s put him in. And the more time they spend together the more they get to know eachother and Obi-wan always talks about his  husband so loviningly and so wonderingly, like yes, my husband is kind and strong and talented and he’s so good to me, better than I deserve, really, and I was so alone and sad before I met him, and now I’m so happy, it’s so wonderful that we found eachother. And Rayshe’ase kind of resents this mystery husband for deceiving such a sweet person like Obi-wan, for kind of … taking advantage of him, a little, but he recognizes that in this case it would be more cruel to tell Obi-wan the truth.

  Linebreak***

 "Are you being sure you will not coming home with me?" Obi-wan asks. He's wringing his hands, a little fretfully, and Rayshe'ase is helpless against the fondness that blooms in his chest. "My riddur can be helping you, can be calling your family, the healers. No need for swimming by yourself."

 There's every need. Obi-wan's done so much, for him, and Rayshe’ase will not put him in any more danger than he already is in. And nor will he reveal the danger that Obi-wan's husband has put him in - he'd rather cut out his own heart than ruin the bond Obi-wan has in his, than reveal just what the man Obi-Wan loves and trusts so much has really done.

 "No, we're very close. I'll be fine, I promise." He darts forward and enfolds Obi-war into a hug. May your heart take good care of you for the rest of your life, he prays. "Thank you. Thank you for all you've done for me."

 “No thanking. It was being the right thing." Obi-wan squeezes back, before pulling away to earnestly meet Rayshe'ase's eyes. "Shea, may Sho'cye ever bless your path."

 "And yours," Rayshe'ase chokes, pulling Obi-wan close again and pressing their foreheads together.

 Obi-wan softens, hushing and holding him, until the worst of Rayshe'ase's trembling stops, until Rayshe'ase pulls back again, full to brimming with so many things he's not sure how to say.

 "Is okay." Obi-wan tells him. Still smiling. "Can be going. Being sure your family is so excited to see you. Not needing to keep them waiting any longer."

 Rayshe'ase nods, throat tight, and holds the memory of Obi-wan's bright smile in his head as he dives.

 Even with all Obi-wan has done for him, all their swims together with the rope, Rayshe'ase is still so weak. It takes him hours and many breaks to even reach the halfway point down to Sundari. And he doesn't know if he'll find family, excited to see him. They were at war, when he was taken. What if they lost, and Obi-wan's inker is able to take refuge in a human because he’s one of the only Mandadorians left?

 Luckily, he’s not tortured too long with what-ifs. There's a phalanx of the royal guard swimming up towards the surface. He has no idea why in the name of Sho'cye they would be doing such a thing, but he's too grateful to care. He calls a song to them, voice rusty with disuse, and they pivot, flashing shock all down their bodies.

 "Prince Rayshea’se! How-!"

 "It is a long story and one I wish to tell only once. Please, just," Rayshease's voice cracks.

"Please just bring me home. I'm... too weak, to swim fast on my own."

 They do as he asks, of course, spinning into motion with a flurry of activity. Their fastest surges off to bring the news to the capitol, and the rest gather around him; two press close to his sides, ducking under his arms, and do his swimming for him, speeding him down quickly to Sundari. They tell him that the war is over. That his family is all well, so it's with only joy and anticipation in his heart that he looks down over the city.

 There's already music, celebrating his return, moving through his bones, and it only adds to the dreamlike quality of seeing his family waiting for him on the ridge overlooking Sundari. His mother, and Rex, and Kix and Boba, and he breaks free clumsily and surges toward them with all his strength.

 They meet him halfway, enveloping him, shining with happiness and laying praise on Sho'cye for his return, and it's everything he's dreamed about for the last two years, except...

 "Where's Eyeyah? And Kote, and Wolv? The guard said that they were alright, that they lived..."

 “They do, they do," his mother soothes. "They were away, but not far, and we sent word to them. They'll be back any minute, I promise."

 "We can wait for them at the palace," Kix says, a little pointedly, throwing an arm around Rayshe’ase's shoulder, and bracing him up against his side. “In the healing halls."

 Rayshe'ase's been notorious for avoiding the healing halls ever since he was a minnow, but right now he can think of nothing better than to be ensconced safely in them, looked after by his own brother. "Okay. Just this once."

 Kix flashes in amusement and snorts for good measure. But he bears Rayshe’ase forward with utmost gentleness.

 His family catches him up on the end of the war, once he comments on the ink over Rex’s heart. Apparently, they won by allying themselves with the Togruta, and Rex is now married to the one of the Empress’ daughters. Ahsoka, he says, proudly and happily, and he’s sure Reyshe’ase will like her. He tells her the story of how they met, her sneaking away to join the delegation, them fighting together, and fondness and love are clear in his every word. Reyshe’ase can’t be anything but happy for him, and tells him so, and Rex beams.

 They tell him also, about Wolv and his capture, faces sobering, so that Rayshe’ase won’t be surprised when he sees him. He’s doing so much better than he was, Kix promises, healing well in both mind and body. But he did lose an eye, and much of his mobility, so he’s moved from the army proper to the royal guard now.

 Rayshe’ase just thanks Sho’cye that he’s alive. It seems impossible that anyone could get taken by the shark-riders and live, but then again, most would say it’s impossible to get taken by the humans and live, and yet here Reyshe’ase is now. Sho’cye must be smiling on them, for two miracles in so short a time.

 True to his mother’s word, Eyeyah, Kote, Wolv and a Togruta that must be Ahsoka are all waiting for them in Kix’s treatment room in the halls. Rayshe’ase keens as Eyeyah slams into him. They’re practically crushing eachother with the force of their greeting but Rayshe’ase hardly cares, even when Kix tsks at Eyeyah and orders him to be gentle. They stay clinging to eachother even as Kote and Wolv come forward to greet him with brushes of their temples to his, and careful embraces from behind. And it’s Eyeyah who finally asks, voice cracking with emotion, what happened to him.

 “I was taken, by humans,” Rayshe’ase says, and he can see flashes of shock and horror light up the room. “They kept me in a … clear rock cage, very small, for so long. It was … but then they got careless, and made an enclosure for me, in the ocean. So I escaped.”

 “They’re dead now,” he adds, lifting his face from Eyeyah’s shoulder to look at Kote. As Mand’alor, he needs to know that their people – all Merfolk – are safe. That they’re not in danger of discovery. As he does so, he notices for the first time that Kote’s heart circle has also been filled with ink. He blinks, but it’s still there. He supposes that it was inevitable; as Mand’alor Kote would sooner or later have to wed. But he still didn’t expect … “You found your heart, too. Congratulations, Kote.”

 “Thank you,” Rayshe’ase,” Kote says, but he looks … shifty, almost. Everyone in the room does, all of a sudden. “But there’s, um, something you need to know about him.”

 “What, is he not one of the nobles? You know I don’t care about that.”

 “Not, it’s …” Kote exchanges a glance with Wolv, and Wolv shrugs. “He’s um … well, he’s a human. But he’s nothing like the ones that took you, I swear, he’s … he’s kind and good and he would never hurt any of us.”

 A human. Kote’s heart is a human. Suddenly, a million things starts clicking into place all at once. He holds up his hand, cutting silent Kote’s almost panicked reassurances, and says, “this human, describe him to me.”

 Kote tilts his head, brow furrowed, but does. His heart is very pale, skin lovely and white like a pearl, with eyes as blue as the sky and hair that shines red like the rising sun.

 Oh, of course he is, Rayshe’ase thinks, and he can see his own colors bloom with amusement, as he shakes his head back and forth, as he clicks happily, and the whole family draws closer, alarmed, but he manages to calm them, and himself, and re-tells the story, all of it, from the beginning. Everything that happened, and all that Obi-wan did for him.

 “I’m sorry I didn’t tell all of it,” he says, once he’s done. “I just … I didn’t know the laws had changed. And I’m sorry for thinking so poorly of you, that you’d somehow, endangered him, deceived him…”

 “You were keeping him safe,” Kote says, squeezing Rayshe’ase’s arm and pulling him into a hug, as best he can with Eyeyah still in the way. “Never apologize for that. And  I did endanger him, in the beginning.”

 Mom clicks in disagreement, and Kote pulls a face back at her. It’s clearly a disagreement they’ve had many times, and they drop it quickly, turning their attention back to him.

 “It seems I have him to thank for the life of another of my sons, whom he’s brought back from the dead,” she says, passing her hand through Rayshe’ase’s hair. It’s gotten so long, the humans who had him never bothered to cut it.

 “I want to go see him,” Rayshe’ase says. Now that he knows that it’s alright, that he won’t be putting Obi-wan in any danger… “I need to let him know that I made it back safely. He was so worried, when I left. I need to let him know.”

 “Hush, Reyshe’ase, we’ll tell him,” Kote says. “We’ll send a messenger, right away.”

 “No, I want to go,” Rayshe’ase insists. It’s important, that it’s him. Obi-wan deserves no less. “He didn’t know, who I was. I want to be the one to tell him.”

 They all turn to Kix. Kix sighs. “Fine. But tomorrow. For now, you rest.”

 Linebreak***

 Even home, it’s a disappointment to find that he still doesn’t sleep well. He wakes from nightmares time and time again, jarred each time that he finds his family there instead of the humans that had him, or Obi-wan.

 “Is there anything we can do?” Mom asks, rubbing at his arm, the third time he’s jerked awake.

 “Could you … sing?” Rayshe’ase asks, feeling stupid. “Obi-wan would sing for me, when I – it … it helps me fall back a sleep. He’s got a pretty nice voice, for a human.”

 “Of course,” Mom says, smiling and relieved, before she shoots a teasing look Kote way. “You’re lucky that you got to him first, Kote, or it sounds like perhaps Rayshea’se might have beat you to it.”

 There are clicks of amusement throughout the room, and Rayshea’se never thought he’d get to have this again, just the simple pleasure, of joking with his family.

 But he doesn’t want to worry them, by being maudlin, so he shrugs, and says, “Obi-wan’s great and all, but the legs don’t really do it for me.”

 Kote flashes with lust and then very quickly thereafter with embarrassment, and the clicking gets louder, but Kote holds his chin up high and declares, “You don’t know what you’re missing. The legs are the best part.”

 Rex makes a disgusted noise, low in the back of his throat. “Ugh, stop it, Kote, that’s more than I ever needed to know.”

 “Oh, please,” Wolv scoffs. “You think that’s bad? You don’t have to hear them, they’re so loud with eachother that it carries through the water-”

 “Alright,” Kote snaps, flashing embarrassment again. “What song would you like us to sing, Rayshea’se.”

 “Nar’uur,” Rayshea’se asks, a pleading edge to his tone that he can’t control. “That’s what … he sang that one a lot. Said that you always sing it to him, so its one of his favorites.”

 “Oh,” Kote says, and he has a soft, tender, poleaxed look on his face. But no one clicks their amusement this time. “Of course, Shea, anything.”

 “Lie back down,” Eyeyah suggests softly, and settles with him down on the bed. Mom starts and everyone else picks up the song, note by note, letting it build in the water, and Rayshea’se lets himself fall down into sleep, and doesn’t wake from a dream again.

Story 2 – Wolv gets a prosthetic

 “It’s hard,” Wolv says, one night. Obi-wan’s stretched out on the dock, and Wolv is stretched out in the water beside him; they’re both looking up at the stars. All the merfolk that he’s met, that have come to visit Obi-wan, find them both fascinating and very comforting. Cody says they remind him of the way that the plankton glow, especially at night, points of light against inky blackness, familiar and anchoring despite the way that they shift. Not so different as the stars, in the end.

 Obi-wan doesn’t ask ‘what is,’ knows that it’s better to stay quiet and give Wolv the space and time that he needs to finish his thought.

 “The emptiness,” he says haltingly, and gestures to the side of his face, where the leather patch lays. “Feeling it, always. Even now that the pain is gone.”

 “I’m sorry.” Obi-wan says softly. He’s so, so sorry, for the wounds that war gouges into them all, the deep scars that they need. “I’ve known many men, who lost limbs in the war, and a lot of them say the same. Not all of them can afford prosthetics, but even the ones that can-”

 He stops, struck dumb with inspiration, at the same time that Wolv frowns, and repeats, “prosthetics,” rolling the unfamiliar English word around in his mouth.

 “They’re a … an artificial replacement, for a part of the body that’s been lost. Not just limbs, they have them for teeth too, and eyes,” Obi-wan explains, heart caught in his throat. “They make them out of glass … remember the marbles I showed you? They’re like that, I think, but bigger. We could … we could get you one, if you wanted. If you thought it might help.”

 He holds his breath a Wolv stills, completely and utterly in the water.

 “Yes,” Wolv says, after a moment, voice rough. “Yes. I think … if you can really … I think it would.”

 Linebreak***

 Obi-wan does a little research, makes some inquiries. The general consensus seems to be that while optical prosthesis can be ordered through the mail, if one can afford it the best thing to do is to send for an occulist to come in person. Affordability isn’t the real barrier here, thanks to Eyeyah’s explorations, and Cody’s insistence on giving Obi-wan all the gold in Mandalore’s vaults. More the tail and fins that Wolv sports.

 But Wolv has said he doesn’t want any the merfolk to know what they’re doing until it’s done, and has gently but firmly shut down Obi-wan’s plea to at least involve Kix. So Obi-wan does what he always does, when he’s at the beginning of hatching a plan. He goes to Kita.

 It’s really not that difficult, in the end. On the path to successfully finding a way for Obi-wan and Cody to sleep close to eachother without getting Obi-wan to wet or Cody too dry, there were many failures, and it’s one of these that they drag back in from the shed. A labor of love on Obi-wan’s part, the frame all basically one big box with a hole in both the top the box and the mattress both, so that Cody would lie with his torso on the mattress and his tail in the box. And a little opening, on the side, where the box could be filled with fresh sea water every night, and Cody could sleep in perfect comfort. And it would have worked a treat, really, if the bloody thing hadn’t leaked and leaked and leaked no matter what Obi-wan tried to plug it up. After the fifth time they’d woken up to a flooded floor and the smell of wet dog Obi-wan had conceded defeat; he’d gone back  to the drawing board, and the bed was banished to the shed.

 All the effort is more than worth it now. Wolv fits right into it and with a couple of pillows to prop him up and some creative arranging of blankets, Wolv makes a very convincing picture of a bedridden amputee. Once he’s settled, Kita and Obi-wan leave him in Boga’s care, and head into town to pick up the occulist.

 Dr. Che is a no-nonsense woman in her fifties. She has an absolutely massive trunk with her in addition to a small suitcase, and Obi-Wan wonders with a little flash of humor exactly how many eyes she’s got in there.

 Linebreak***

 //There are actually two parts to ocular prosthetics, a circular filler which goes into the socket and is then sewn over with muscle, and then the actual glass eye which sits over that and can be removed as needed. So glass eyes aren’t actually round! The more you know (star and rainbow).

 //So Dr. Che needs to come twice, first to put in the filler and then a month later, once it’s healed, fit Wolv for his prosthetic.

 Linebreak***

 Wolv does exceptionally better, almost immediately, even with just the filler in his socket.

 “It feels good,” Wolv confesses, a week after the surgery, when he and Obi-wan asks him. “The socket is still damaged, the nerves, but … it doesn’t feel hollow anymore. It feels more like I’m just closing my eye. It’s … so much better.”

 “Being most glad,” Obi-wan says, and the last of his doubts about doing this fall away.

 Cody and the rest of the family notice the change too, and though there are many grateful looks thrown Obi-wan’s way, none of them remark upon it. Probably too afraid that if they try to mention it, it will go away. But their joy and relief also works to ease – though not entirely dissipate – the fear that they’ll be angry at him or helping Wolv conceal the whole thing.

 The month passes quickly, all told, and then Dr. Che’s returning. He sees her note the changes in Wolv’s demeanor too, and the quiet pride that rises in her eyes at it. She declares that his socket has healed perfectly from the surgery, and that if Wolv is ready, she’ll got ahead and make the cast.

 Wolv is more than ready, and he doesn’t even flinch as Dr. Che presses the soft putty in.

 She hardens the cast, and then spends some time comparing it to various trays of eyes from her trunk before she’s satisfied. She holds her chosen tray out to Wolv and explains that he can pick any one of these to use, and then she’ll mail along his two others that she makes custom from his mold. Obi-wan has ordered many spares to be made, knowing full well how objects can get easily lost in the ocean.

 “This one will probably be the closet match to your color,” Dr. Che says, pointing to the dark brown one at the bottom of the tray.

 Wolv’s eye skates over the offerings before he brightens, and shakes his head. ‘I’d like the one at the top. That blue one.’

 It is indeed quite blue, almost a perfect match for Obi-wan’s own. Obi-wan swallows, and translates for Dr. Che, before adding. “Wolv, are you sure? You can pick any of the colors that you want, it doesn’t have to be …”

 ‘That’s the one I want,’ Wolv says firmly, as Kita takes up the mantle of translating. ‘I don’t want to try to make it the same as it was, because it won’t be. And this way, I’ll have the same colored eyes as all my brothers.’

 Obi-wan reaches out and squeezes Wolv’s hand, touched beyond words. Wolv’s face softens, before he smirks, and adds, ‘someone has to put a stop to you hogging the color.’

 Obi-wan lets out a full, delighted laugh, can’t help it really.

 Dr. Che nods, lifts the blue eye up from the case, and gently, gently sets it in place. She’s already warned Wolv that it will feel very odd at first, but tht in less than five minutes the feeling will fade. Wolv clenches both eyes shut, but Obi-wan can see the tension fade from his face as he does adjust. And then he opens them again.

 ‘How do I look,’ Wolv asks, and the smile – simple and happy – playing around his lips makes Obi-wan’s breath catches in his throat. It’s like he said. He doesn’t look like nothing ever happened to him. But his pleasure, his happiness … he looks like he’s come out the other side of it.

 ‘You look perfect,’ Obi-wan says, in Mando’a, and Wolv beams.

 Thanks to Wolv’s choice, it’s Obi-wan, in the end, who ends up sitting for what Dr. Che calls a color matching portrait, where she shines a light on his face and draws a very large and very detailed imaged of his iris. And then, with that, she’s done. She packs everything up in her trunk, and it’s time for them to say their goodbyes.

 She allows Wolv to touch her arm, gently, and thank her, excitement radiating out of every part of him, and Obi-wan to gratefully shake her hand. Kita leaves with her, to escort her back to town. And Obi-wan helps Wolv back into the water. He also sens one of the ever-present royal staff back to Sundari, with a request for the family to gather. Wolv passes the time waiting for them swimming around energetically, testing how his new eye fares in the water, and declaring it a success every time he surfaces.

 Obi-wan keeps (hah) an eye on him, but ducks away periodically to help the cooks put together a large spread, ever conscious of the fact that he’s hosting his in-laws and wanting everything to be nice for them. Plus, it merits a celebration, this milestone in Wolv’s recovery. By the time the evening rolls around, everything is perfect; a feast is laid out along the edges of the deck and the lanterns that Obi-wan strung up around the lagoon are lit to supplement the glow of the moon.

 Obi-wan slips into the water the second that Boyal comes to tell them that the royal family’s arrived, so that Cody can pull him down under the water for their typical enthusiastic greeting. But he encourages them to surface much sooner than he usually would. This is Wolv’s night.

 “What’s the occasion?” Cody asks, still holding Obi-wan close even though he’s pulled back from nuzzling along Obi-wan’s throat.

 “Wolv has something he’s like to share with you all.”

 “Is this whatever surprise you guys have been planning for the last month, that you thought we didn’t know about,” Eyeyah demands. “The one you had to call that human woman for?”

 “Dr. Che,” Wolv says. “And yes.”

 “A doctor? You’re not sick are you,” Kix demands, looking between Obi-wan and Kita with narrowed eyes, like he expects one of them to keel over at any moment.

 “No, they’re fine,” Wolv says, rolling his eye. Obi-wan smiles, because he knows that under the patch that Wolv’s put back on the prosthetic eyes is rolling too. “She came for me. We disguised me as a paralyzed human, so that she could do this.”

 Wolv lifts his patch and Vah’yen gasps, her hands flying to her mouth. Kix swears, and Cody lets Obi-wan go to race over to Wolv and take Wolv’s face into his hands.

 “What-” he stutters, looking between Obi-wan and Kita. “How?”

 “Is that another human’s eye?” Eyeyah demands, with sort of excited and fascinated horror. “Did you steal another human’s eye?”

 “No, of course not, it’s … glass. I’ll- look.” Wolv has filed down a few of his nails, as soon as Dr. Che left, and Obi-wan had helped him practice taking the eye in and out until he could do it comfortably on his own. He takes it out now, holding it out in his palm so they can all see. Kix plucks it out of his hand and drops it into Rex’s palm so that he can haul Wolv towards him and look into the socket.

 He makes a surprised noise, as he peers in. “Oh, it’s…”

 “It’s part of the process. There’s a little ball, that they put in to fill the socket, and then they sew it shut. She said it would help keep me from getting all those infections. And then the … prosthetic goes in the remaining space.” He accepts his prosthetic back from Cody, now that everyone’s had a chance to look, and slips it back into place. “It’s something the humans invented, for when they loose eyes, and Obi-wan and Kita helped me to do it. I … still can’t see, out of it, but it helps me to feel more normal. More … whole. I kept having nightmares where I’d wake up and the eye would be gone and it felt … but now when I wake up, there’s something there, and it’s … a lot better.”

 There’s a moment of stunned silence before Vah’yen sobs, pulling both Wolv and Obi-wan close to her. “Thank you, thank you, thank you-”

 “No is needing for thanking,” Obi-wan tries to protest, but Vah’yen makes a hushing noise and Obi-wan complies. There’s a splash of water behind him, and it’s Cody, coming to plaster himself along the back of Obi-wan’s back and brush their temples together.

 “There’s every need,” Cody murmurs, and presses a kiss to Obi-wan’s cheek.

 “Yes,” Vah’yen says. “You keep helping all my children. I am indebted to the both of you.”

 “It was Obi-wan’s idea,” Kita says, smiling. She’s stayed safe and dry on the dock, out of hugging range. “I just helped him carry that terrible bed he made in.”

   Linebreak***

 //Kita is an OC that served with Obi-wan on Melidadaan (in my personal quest to add more lesbians to SW), headcanon that in this verse she left her family in India to serve as a code breaker for the British after all her older brothers were drafted and killed, and then from there was recruited into the MI6 by Cerasi. And she ended up attached with Obi-wan’s unit in between her covert missions, so they fought together and got to be good friends. After the war ended, she went back to make sure her family in India was okay, but she and Obi-wan still wrote letters. Until Obi-wan’s letters stopped coming, and so she went to his address and found it burned down, and so she’s like, okay, and tracked  him all the way to his remote island home on Hawaii. So she just like shows up in a sailboat, and is like, oh good, you didn’t kill yourself.

 //And she stays for a little while because she’s got her own ish from the war, and because she’s a spy she’s like, hmm, what’s different about you, oh, you’re in love. And Obi-wan’s like, yes, I found someone here, we’re in a relationship but I can’t introduce you, and Kita’s like, I get it, you know I do. I’m happy for you, just be careful.

 (Kita and Cerasi were lovers, until Cerasi died in the war. ☹ So Kita totally gets the supreme shittyness of period-queerphobia)

 //And Kote’s like, once Kita’s asleep at nights, is like, who is this, oh, she’s like your sister, I see. Well, if you trust her, you should tell her. I want to meet your family.

 //And so Kita meets mermaids and is like, mmm, I’ve lost it, but once Obi-wan gets her over the existential hurtle enjoys meeting Obi-wan’s new husband and family and they’re all totally vibing.

 //And Kita keeps getting letters from home being like – when are you coming home (and marrying a man) and Kote’s like, I have a great idea! Why don’t you marry eachother!

 //And Obi-wan’s like … I am married to you?

 //And Kote’s like, yes, we exchanged our vows before Sho’cye. But humans have … fake marriages, don’t they? Where you just report it to the government? You can do that, and then both of you would be safe

 //And Kita and Obi-wan are like, what the hell, and Obi-wan’s proposal is like Kita Lastname, will you do me the honor of entering a loveless sham paper marriage with me, so that you can have a career and be a lesbian?

 //And Kita’s like yes, a thousand times yes. And so Obi-wan and Kita marry and become the best beards to eachother.

 //And if Obi-wan were to someday happen to find his long lost “sister” who just had to come live with them… and if Kita and she happened to just be really close friends … well that’s just a good wife welcoming her sister in law, of course… ie. Kita falls in love and has a wonderful marriage of the heart with idk, Siri Tachi and Obi-wan is like, we’ll just say you’re my sister! And they all live queerly ever after.

 //And many of the townspeople are a tad sus that Obi-wan is so well off and still lets his wife AND his sister work, but they’re like, well, if that’s what he wants … *50s man shrug*

 //In this verse, Dr. Che is a Chinese American doctor who got into ocular prosthetics after the war because there was a lot of need and not a lot of practitioners. She is, as always, a total bamf.

[crackheadgeminibby]

better for you

pairing: chris evans x female!black!reader

warnings: age gap, angst, language

word count: 2.7k

a/n: this lowkey sucks and is very poorly edited, i’m sorry but on the plus side, i surpassed 400 followers yesterday!! so thank you to those 400+ people🤍🤍

i do not consent to my work being copied in any way, shape of form or reposted on any other platform

not my picture

You didn’t consider yourself a jealous person. Much less a jealous girlfriend. Not at all. Never had and you thought you never would.

You had practically raised yourself as your parents had always been more preoccupied with their jobs. You loved your parents, you really did, but when your high school counselor told you that you could graduate high school a year and a half early, you took the opportunity to start college immediately and move out of your parents’ house. This drastic change when you were so young made you become extremely independent. Which is why your relationship with Chris worked almost perfectly. You valued your independence, as he did his, and you respected his independence, as he did yours.

As a corporate lawyer that had multiple firms around the country, you traveled a lot, needing to meet with clients. Chris, as an actor, also traveled a lot.

You both trusted the other without a doubt at the beginning of the relationship despite that Chris was, at first, a little wary of being with someone as young as you. As a 24-year-old, he thought that you should be living your life, partying, sleeping with whomever you wanted without being tied down, but you had explained to him that despite your age, those were not the things that you wanted.

You and Chris were truly made for each other, knowing the other more than they knew themselves. You would even dare to call yourselves soulmates.

Which is why you could not fathom why you were in your current situation.

You had left early in the day for California, where you were overseeing the opening and start-up of your newest firm. Chris, on the other hand, had left 3 days ago to go on some trip his publicist had arranged for him. You hadn’t bothered asking what it was about, assuming that it was about ASP. Plus, you didn’t mind it: he had to do what he had to do.

But now, you couldn’t believe yourself.

You were sitting on your hotel bed, in a white and fluffy robe, fresh out of the shower. Your computer was open in front of you, the TV was blaring the news and you had your phone in your hand. It was almost 11pm but you had been doing this for at least 3 hours. All three electronics were talking about the same thing: Are Chris Evans and Lily James dating??

It was a bit your fault that people gave themselves the right to assume things like that, to be honest, since you had been the one to pressure Chris about keeping your relationship secret. You knew that people would talk and judge you for your 15-year age gap. You, personally, didn’t care and neither did Chris but his career was dependent on his public image and you didn’t want to hold him back, especially not at a pivotal moment in his life like right now.

So, you had agreed on telling your families and your very close friends and Chris had convinced you to let him tell his publicist, Megan. God, she fucking hated you. When Chris arranged for you guys to meet, she had called you “a walking, breathing PR disaster”. You had laughed it off calling her funny, but you knew that she was 100% serious. You really shouldn’t have been surprised that she would do something so fucked up at some point.

A bunch of different news outlets were pumping out new stories every 30 minutes, each article a little more detailed than the previous. It was all over the Internet and it seemed to be the only thing that people cared about today.

Considering the 8-hour difference between London and San Francisco, you hadn’t been able to talk to Chris at all since you got to your hotel. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to talk to him. He hadn’t even tried to talk to you. Why was he avoiding you and acting like he had something to hide?

You’re reading the latest Daily Mail article on your computer about how Chris and Lily apparently got to his hotel in the same car when you hear your phone ring on the nightstand. You don’t even bother looking at the caller ID as you reach for your phone, eyes still glued to your computer and answer,

“Hello?”

You hear a loud exhale on the other end of the phone before you hear Chris’ tired voice, “Baby, hi.”

You tense up slightly before asking, trying to seem nonchalant, “What’s up?”

“Have you watched the news today?”

You bite your lip, thinking, before replying, lying through your teeth, “No, why? What’s going on?”

Chris sighs again before answering, “Nothing, it’s fine. How was your day?”

You roll your eyes. Was he seriously not going to say anything?

“Fine, but it’s really late and I have to get up early tomorrow so good night.”

You hang up the phone before Chris can answer anything. You throw the phone at the end of your bed, frustrated beyond belief.

You continue to read the Daily Mail article as you hear a message coming in. You don’t bother to get up to pick up your phone as you see the message appear on your computer screen a couple of seconds later.

chris💙, 11:01pm:

Good night baby girl. Good luck tomorrow🤍

You groan loudly at his message. Even when he had pissed you the fuck off, his words still brought butterflies to your stomach.

You disregard his message and finish reading the article. You roll your eyes as you close your computer and get up to put it on the hotel desk. As you’re walking back to bed, you take your phone from the end of the bed and put it on its charger, ready to go to bed.

You’re not sure how you manage to fall asleep that night as your mind swirls with unending thoughts.

When your alarm wakes you up at 6am the next day, you feel groggy, having slept very badly last night. Which was to be expected.

You get up and change while eating a protein bar before heading to the hotel gym: you needed to do something to get your energy up. Once you finish your workout, you head back to your room to get ready for the day.

When you get out of the shower, you open your computer and, having left the Daily Mail website open last night, you see a new article posted 2 minutes ago: Chris Evans and Lily James seen on a date in a London park.You groan loudly, closing your computer as you hear that your cell phone is receiving multiple texts.

You reach for your phone on the hotel desk and your eyes widen as you see your lock screen.

5 missed calls

12 messages

You open your Phone app seeing one call from Chris, two from your best friend, one from your brother and one from your mom.

You open the Messages app as a new message from your brother comes in.

will, 7:31am:

When did you break up with your boyfriend? And why didn’t you tell me?

you, 7:32am:

i didn’t

yet

will, 7:32am:

You know i’m gonna fucking murder him right?

You smile fondly at your brother’s concern, chuckling softly as you type your reply.

you, 7:33am:

as you should(:

You open the rest of your messages, mostly asking the same thing. You didn’t feel like talking about it anymore so, you ignore them until you get to your conversation with Chris.

chris💙, 5:22am:

Hey, I’m sure you’ve seen the articles by now.

I’m so sorry

Call me when you can, please. I really need to talk to you.

You bite your lip as you think about what to answer. You didn’t have the energy to deal with this right before your firm’s opening. Shaking your head, you lock your phone, putting it back on the desk, getting dressed.

As you get back to your hotel room, exhausted from your day, you hear your phone signal an incoming text for the millionth time today.

You sigh loudly: you knew it was Chris texting you again. You had been ignoring his texts all day because you didn’t want to get in a bad mood while you were opening the firm.

You put your purse and work bag on the floor, unlocking your phone. You open the conversation with Chris, scrolling through his messages.

chris💙, 6:15pm:

I’m leaving a bit earlier than I planned, I should be home tomorrow morning.

Are you back in Boston or are you gonna stay in LA?

You sigh, feeling guilty that you had been ignoring his texts all day. You start typing a reply, your finger hovering over the send button for a couple of seconds before clicking on it.

you, 6:17pm:

i’m still in san francisco i’m leaving tomorrow morning

As soon as your message goes through, you see the three dots pop up in the conversation.

chris💙, 6:17pm:

Oh my God, hi. Are you okay?

Can I call you?

You chew on your bottom lip: you really didn’t think he was going to answer that fast.

you, 6:18pm:

i’m about to take a shower then i’m gonna go to bed i’m really tired sorry

chris💙, 6:18pm:

Okay, I’m sorry

Good night

You groan loudly. You really didn’t know why you felt so guilty: he was the one running around with another woman. As you think about this, you realize that you didn’t really know who she was.

You shake your head at yourself as you pull up Google on your phone and look for her. You don’t even realize it but, 20 minutes later, you were now at the oldest post on her Instagram.

You curse at yourself, dropping your phone on your bed, and head to the shower.

You stay under the hot stream of the shower for at least an hour before you finally get out, toweling off.

You order some room service for dinner, settling down in front of a random show playing on the TV. After pushing your food around for half an hour, you sigh loudly, put the tray on the hotel desk and get under the covers before finally falling asleep.

You had not slept very well so you had been in a rush to leave the hotel and catch your flight to LAX in the morning. You were exhausted and hungry when you got to your shared LA home with Chris but there was no food in sight, considering that neither of you had been here in a couple of months.

As it was not too late in the day, you decide to take a nap and order some food after.

When you wake up a few hours later, the sun has already completely set and the house is pitch black. You rub the sleep out of your eyes and take your phone before heading to the living room to order some food.

As you enter the kitchen and are about to head to the living room, you hear a deep voice, “Hey, you’re up.”

Taken by surprise, you throw your phone in the direction of the sound and scream, “Holy shit!”

“Ow… What the fuck?”

You’re breathing heavily, clutching your chest as you turn on the kitchen lights, brightness illuminating the area as you see Chris holding the side of his head.

“Jesus Christ, Chris! You almost gave me a fucking heart attack!”

Chris rubs at his head as he looks towards you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Your heartbeat starts to slow down as you roll your eyes.

“What are you even doing here?”

Chris frowns and replies, “Well, you never told me where you were going to be but when I got back to Boston and you weren’t there, I assumed you were coming here.”

You groan silently, crossing your arms over your chest and raising your eyebrows,

“So, London seemed to be very fun.”

Chris shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling, before making eye contact with you, “I didn’t know that’s what the trip was about.”

You chuckle humorlessly, “Really, Chris? Since when do you go on trips, not knowing what they’re about?”

Chris exhales loudly, taking a couple of steps towards you, “I promise that I didn’t know. Megan planned everything and just sent me the info.”

You snort loudly, rolling your eyes. Chris frowns before asking, “What?”

“Megan, Chris? Really? She fucking hates me, of course she would pull a stunt like this.”

Chris frowns again, shaking his head, “What are you talking about? She doesn’t hate you.”

You laugh, this time, actually finding this funny, “Chris, she literally called me a walking disaster.”

Chris struggles to find an answer to that: he knew that Megan used this exact kind of formulation so he couldn’t deny it.

“And you know what? It’s fine. Maybe you really should be dating her instead of me.”

Chris’ face contorts in a mix of hurt and anger, “Why the fuck would you say something like that?”

“Because it’s true, Chris. She’s better for you. She’s actually your age, not a fucking child compared to you. She can give you the things you want from life that I can’t. Maybe it’s better that way.”

“What way?”

You shrug your shoulders, looking at your feet, mumbling, “If we weren’t together.”

Chris scoffs, “You literally have to be kidding me.”

Chris takes large steps, making his way towards you and takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Y/N, I’ve told you before and I will tell you again. I do not give a shit about your age. And I thought you didn’t either. So, what’s the problem here?”

You bite your bottom lip nervously, “Because what if what Megan said is true? I mean… If people find out that we’re dating, the shit talking would never stop. I can’t do that to you.”

Chris sighs, enveloping you in a hug.

“Baby, it doesn’t matter. None of it matters if we’re not together.”

He lets you go, stroking your cheek, “You’re it for me. There is no one better for me than you. And no one is going to take that away from us. Not you. Not Megan. And certainly not my fans. If they love me as much as they say they do, then they’ll respect you.”

You chuckle slightly, “Chris, I don’t know what kind of fantasy you live in, but in real life, that’s not how things go.”

“Okay, but who cares? There’s two people in this relationship, you and me. Not you, me, Megan and my fans.”

You scoff, mumbling, “Yeah, tell Megan that.”

“I will. The same goes for her. I didn’t know she actually meant those things about you and I’ll tell her that she needs to knock that shit off.”

You sigh, nodding slightly, “Okay.”

“And, baby, I’m sorry.”

You furrow your brows, trying to understand, “I never should have agreed to Megan’s little plan thing. But, most importantly, I should have told you as soon as I knew. It’s just that I kinda owed Lily a favor and she needed this. But it doesn’t erase the fact that I should have been honest with you and I’m sorry I wasn’t.”

You sigh, “I know, it’s okay. I knew this kind of thing could happen when I decided to be with you, and I overreacted a bit so I’m sorry too. I knew it wasn’t true and I should have asked you about it instead of ignoring you. I just… couldn’t let go of the fact that maybe you should be with her.”

Chris shakes his head, “I shouldn’t. And I never will be.”

Chris laughs a bit before continuing, “Sorry, but you’ll have to try harder to get rid of me.”

You laugh loudly, throwing your head back. Looking back at Chris, you smile warmly before hugging him,

“I love you, Chris. Like, a lot.”

Chris chuckles, squeezing you tighter, “I love you too.”

[twilightdruig]

sleeping with the ceo

pairing: george weasley x fem!reader

summary: one night stand before the first day of his new job and oops that was his new boss he was sleeping with.

warnings: ceo!reader , assistant!george , muggle!au , mentions of sex , one night stand , awkwardness , fwb

words: 1.8k

a/n: unedited!! i have a love hate relationship with this and i just wanted to say @wandsandwheezes , @chokemepansy , @rcwenaclaw , and @nancybycrs are such huge inspirations to me like their writing is amazing <33

y/n didn’t know how she got here. she remembers going out with her friends, having a few drinks and partying a bit.

now, she was tangled in unfamiliar sheets with an attractive man next to her. she examined him, he was lanky, had ginger hair and freckles littered his body.

she vaguely remembers him buying her a drink. she had this fuzzy memory of his hands roaming her body. she slightly remembered his name starting with a ‘g’.

he started fussing and moving around in his sleep. he slipped his hand back to her waist so she couldn’t try to escape. he let out a groan in her ear and tightened his arms around her.

she didn’t want to wake him up so she subtly tried to nudge his chest. they were both still very naked. none of them bothered to put anything on after last night.

she raked her brain to remember what his name was. was it glen? gabriel? george? george. it sounded familiar. george. george! that was his name. he looked like a george too.

“george” she whispered slowly “george!” she whispered again a little louder. “george” she said one last time with a nudge.

he jumped a little. his eyes were now open but still droopy. he attempted to go back to sleep but awoke once again when he realized there was a beautiful girl in his arms. a beautiful naked girl. that was also when he remembered he had a job interview today.

he shot up and quickly covered himself when he realized he was undressed. she quickly turned the other way as well.

“hey there! uh… y/n right?” he exclaimed frantically, panic evident in his eyes. fred and lee somehow convinced him to come with them and celebrate fred’s job offer. the three always celebrated together. when lee finished his internship, when they graduated, when they bought their first cars, etc.

“yeah, hi!” she greeted. this was the most awkward thing she’s ever experienced. she’s a ceo! she’s fired people, yelled at people and have been in way more embarrassing moments. this is gonna be fine.

“well — uhm, it’s the first day of my job and it’s kind of really important. you can stay if you want to, my brother can take care of it” he offered.

“oh! i also have work to attend to, actually” she declined.

“oh… well then. this,” he gestured in between them, “was great. really! i wish i could spend more time but this is huge”

“no, i totally understand” she smiled.

when he left to the bathroom, she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. she walked around the spacious bedroom and picked up her scattered clothes. she just had to get picked up and change in the office. she held her shoes by the heals, got dressed up in wrinkly, used clothes and exited the room to leave for work.

she squeaked when she found george (or who she thought it was) standing shirtless, and hair dripping in the kitchen. “hi darling, i’m fred” he winked.

“yes… hi, fred. george didn’t mention a twin, only a brother” she pursed her lips feeling slightly embarrassed.

“explains the frightened and confused look”

“yeah… is it alright if i leave? tell george i had a great time last night,” she said “even if i didn’t remember most of it” she whispered to herself.

“yeah, sure!” he took a sip of his beverage “should i tell the doorman to call a taxi for you?”

“that would be really great. thank you so much”

“it’s certainly no problem” he dialed the doorman and requested a taxi.

she ran out the door, catching a glimpse of fred smirking to himself.

george walked out his room all dressed up for work and very nervous.

“missed her mate”

“oh… well i might see her again who knows” ‘oh you certainly will’ fred thought

“tell me, was she a good shag?” fred teased

“yes, actually” george laughed

“reckon she looked quite familiar?” fred asked. he knew who she was and what george was getting himself into but decided to just leave it until george figured it out by himself.

“no. you know her?”

“not really, no. familiar though”

—

she waited outside for a taxi which brought her straight to her office building.

“y/n! where the hell have you been?!” liv, your stand in assistant whisper-yelled to y/n.

“i was out with friends late last night, okay? no big deal”

“it is a big deal! there are a few workers starting her today! including your assistant because i have another job and kids to also attend to.” she handed her a white folder with the logo on the front “this is the list of all the new employees who will visit your office for first day evaluation”

“… except your assistant who will be here shortly”

“i’m gonna need to get changed.” she muttered. boy was today gonna be busy.

she boarded the elevator which took her to the highest floor; her office.

when she arrived, she ran to her personal space, past her assistant desk and into the small walk-in closet. she looked like a downright mess and it wasn’t appropriate to see new employees looking like a slob.

she tried her best looking professional and clean. she didn’t want her employees to know she was out sleeping with a stranger the night before. she did not know what she was getting herself into.

a few minutes passed, she was seated in her desk going through emails and actual mail, checking her calendar and whatnot when she heard the elevator door open.

she looked up and was met with familiar ginger hair, brown eyes and freckles. “george?” “y/n!?” they yelled at the same time.

they saw each other this morning, naked, and tangled in each other’s arms. george didn’t know why he didn’t recognize her, and y/n didn’t know how this was possible ‘who goes out the night before their first day at their job?’.

“heyy,” y/n greeted awkwardly slow “george.”

she could hear a faint and unclear “i slept with my new boss last night” from george.

“and i slept with my new assistant last night as well” she continued, testing the waters. in the amount of times y/n has hired people, this has never happened.

george gave her a tight-lipped smile. now it made sense what fred said this morning. she was of course familiar. the oh so rich ceo of the company he now works at. y/n l/n, multi-millionaire.

“listen, george. if you don’t want to work as my assistant, i can transfer you to one of my managers” she offered. she took his feelings into account, maybe he regret last night, he might be the office slut or whatever was going through his head.

“no! no, y/n. that’s ridiculous. i would love to work for you”

—

weeks turned into months and the two working together went smoothly. he answered her calls, made reservations and bought coffee. they worked like friends, equals. not like one was working for the other.

george especially appreciated the scented candle y/n got him the very next day after the awkward exchange.

y/n would even call him into her office for a quickie almost a year into him working there. it became a regular thing. either her hands down his trousers or her bent over her own desk.

today was different though. george was jittery and nervous. y/n was the least busy she’s ever been. she’d ask what her schedule was every half hour.

he slipped a little something in her calendar tonight, though. 8pm dinner at italiano’s with george. it was kind of a way of asking her out? he thought it was smart.

“georgie, what else is on my schedule today?” she called from her desk while playing with her pen.

“well, sweetheart,” they called each other nicknames and petnames when no one was around “you have a meeting with alicia by 4:30, selene is stopping by for drinks by 5:15 and you have dinner with me at 8”

she registered the meetings into her mind then along came dinner with her assistant with benefits.

“is this your way of asking me out, georgie?” she teased.

“oh, you see right through me huh”

“of course i do,” she poked his sides “literally an hour before your first day i was tangled in your sheets. i think we’ve got quite the bond”

—

after all her meetings and meet ups, it was finally the time for her to go home, or in today’s case, have dinner with george.

they went to a dainty little italian restaurant who served the best pasta she’s ever had (well that’s what she told george). it was quiet especially for a sunday night.

george was sitting across from her as they waited for the food. he started with a little small talk like the weather and the environment. he then talked about the situations at work and other people who worked with them. this felt natural to them. just two friends (or more) talking comfortably in a romantic italian restaurant.

“we had sex the first time today, a year ago” george interjected.

“you really have a way with words, weasley. but really?” y/n asked with wide, surprised eyes. george nodded. “wow! a year ago. that seems like so long”

“it does”

their food was served and they went back to office talk. they also reminisced on how awkward they were. my, my. how much they’ve grown.

“you know, y/n.” he reached to hold her hand “me and fred had this huge idea” he started.

“you know how i told you about those times in high school and college where me, fred and our best friend lee would prank people and joke around?”

“of course”

“we’re opening a shop! we have enough money for it now!” he exclaimed.

“george!” she arose from her seat and gave him a big hug “i am so extremely proud of you”. she knew he was passionate about that. she knew about his mom not supporting him and his brother snd wanting them to take a political or medical job.

george felt like he was gonna tear up. this woman us amazing. she supports him about everything he’s passionate about, she makes sure he’s comfortable and she makes him happy. y/n was all he could ever ask for.

“y/n.” george uttered in her ear, finally gaining the confidence to tell her “i have another thing to tell you.”

“yeah, go ahead georgie” she held his face with her hands.

“i — i am so completely utterly drop dead in love with you” he whispered with a small smile “and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, i just wan-“

she cut him off short by pressing her lips against his, forcefully. it took george a few milliseconds to register what was happening until her kissed her back.

she moved her hands to get tangled with the hair on the nape of his neck while his hands were on her waist. they were smiling in their kiss.

when they pulled back they pushed their heads together. “so… did that mean you love me back or..?”

she kissed him again and again on his cheeks and nose. “yes. it means i love you back. and i don’t care what anyone says.”

george paid for tonight’s dinner for a change and they went back to y/n’s enormous flat and one thing lead to another…

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Dear Evan Hansen

You may have seen some ~online discourse~ about the film Dear Evan Hansen, an adaptation of the 2016 Broadway musical, and you might have wondered what all the hubbub is about. I mean, it’s a feel good story about a senior in high school, Evan Hansen (Ben Platt), who has some pretty severe anxiety and depression. While trying to fulfill an assignment from his therapist to write a letter to himself, his letter gets picked up by another student, Connor (Colton Ryan) - and later that day, Connor kills himself. Connor’s grieving parents and sister Zoe (Amy Adams, Danny Pino, and Kaitlyn Dever) are desperate to learn more from the boy they think was Connor’s best friend - after all, Connor’s suicide note was a letter addressed to “Dear Evan Hansen.” And, as you can imagine, Evan tells them about the unfortunate mistake and sits with them in their grief as they struggle to pick up the pieces of their lives. 

Just kidding! He lies to them, repeatedly, elaborately, expansively for months, constructing an entire false friendship with Connor that never happened, and ingratiating himself into the wealthy nuclear family he never had, in large part because he wants to get into Zoe’s pants! THIS IS THE PROTAGONIST OF THE STORY. Oh, and it’s a musical so there is a lot of singing and crying and singing WHILE crying and sometimes crying and not singing at all. But the #inspiration, you guys. 

Things I liked:

Pretty much everything but the story and Ben Platt’s performance. The supporting cast is stacked, and all of them do a great job at elevating material scraped directly out of a diaper worn by someone who just chewed their way through a copy of the DSM-5. 

A couple of the songs are damn catchy - “Waving Through a Window” and “You Will Be Found” are standouts for a reason - and here’s the thing, Platt sings them well. But as you’ll discover, there’s a lot more to a movie musical than just singing your part. 

Stephen Chbosky, the man behind every deep thought I and a lot of people in my generation had in 2006 after he wrote The Perks of Being a Wallflower, is a pretty good director. I particularly enjoyed the fanvid-type cuts in “Waving Through a Window” in conjunction with the lyrics, and his use of interstitial shots to flashbacks (and sometimes flashforwards!) is a neat little bit of shorthand that I thought was used sparingly enough to be effective. 

Amy Fucking Adams. She’s holding on so hard, so desperately to the idea of who her son could have been, rather than the reality of who he was, and she is full of such deep pain that is masked by an almost endless supply of patience with Evan and relentless positivity. All this made me want was Enchanted 2 even worse than I already did. 

Super into everything Zoe wears - the costuming department did a great job, and now all I want to do is live in mom jeans and baggy sweaters.

Did I Cry? I teared up a couple of times because I’m not a completely heartless bastard and when Amy Adams offered Evan Connor’s college money, my heart broke for the lie Evan had thrust upon her, and Julianne Moore’s song got me good, because she’s just a single mom to Evan who is doing her goddamn best. 

Things I hated more than the time I dropped a frozen gallon container of fruit cocktail on my pinkie toe in my parents’ garage and it turned black and I thought it was gonna fall off:

Ben Platt is 28 years old. He originated the role of Evan Hansen on Broadway, so in many respects it makes sense that he plays the role in the movie, except for the one kinda sorta important thing where he looks like a wizened old crone standing amongst a sea of children doing his best twitching, cringing Hunchback of Notre Dame impression. If you want someone to convincingly play 20 years their junior, hire Paul Rudd. Otherwise, please don’t ask me to believe that this supposed 18-year-old has crow’s feet. 

And that twitching nervous energy is a huge part of the black hole at the center of this film - he’s playing to the cheap seats and walking through the halls of his high school like a wet chihuahua. It’s an excruciating acting choice to watch - he doesn’t just have anxiety, he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown seemingly every second of every day. Like honestly, where is only-mentioned-never-seen Dr. Sherman, because this young man’s meds are NOT WORKING DR. SHERMAN. 

There’s such a lack of self-awareness on behalf of the writing, directing, and performance by Platt. There’s one song, “Sincerely, Me,” that offers the only glimpse of commentary about what Evan is doing, by pointing out the malicious ridiculousness of him writing a series of fake emails as proof of his and Connor’s friendship. 

Also what high schoolers email this much?? I know this was written in probably 2014 or so, but has a bitch never heard of a text? Even a DM? This whole plot is constructed around the premise that high schoolers are just constantly, constantly emailing each other. 

Everything - and I mean EV-ER-Y-THING - about Evan’s relationship with Zoe is so creepy and disturbing that with a soundtrack change, this could easily be a horror movie. He attempts to get her to like him by describing to her all the things her brother noticed about her - oh wait, I’m sorry, all the things HE noticed about her while he was skulking in the shadows following her around for years, watching every move she made, and it ends with him singing repeatedly “I LOVE YOU” because following a girl around and never having a conversation with her or knowing her at all is love, right? This was clearly written by the same people who chose “Every Breath You Take” as their wedding song because Sting is hot and they never actually listened to the damn words. 

And it gets about 10 billion times worse when Zoe goes to Evan’s house alone, takes him up to his room, and sings “I don’t need reasons to want you” and that was the moment I was that person I hate in a movie theater and I pulled out my phone to Google who wrote the music and lyrics to the musical (we were in the back row of the theater no one was behind me THIS WAS AN OUTRAGE EMERGENCY) and of motherfucking course it was written by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, 2 men who heard about meeting an actual human woman from a friend one time but otherwise are unfamiliar with the concept. 

Lastly, enormous serial killer vibes from Evan sending unlabeled flash drives anonymously through the mail with no note in an attempt to right his wrongs. That’s not catharsis, that’s how the next installment in the Saw franchise starts, with Evan in a Billy the clown doll mask showing up on the screen and asking if you want to play a fucking game. 

Also, I know it’s not possible for the narrative to justify this in a way that could be satisfying based on Evan’s actions, but what is with this thing where single working-class mom Julianne Moore is turning down rich people’s money for Evan to go to college? Like, obviously we can’t have that happen in the movie but in real life, fuck your pride! Take those rich people’s money!

I also know how movies work but nothing annoys me more than a giant group of high schoolers all getting beeps and boops to indicate text notifications all at the same time because I don’t know a single person under the age of 55 who keeps their ringer on. That shit is on vibrate AT MOST, and I feel like that’s a millennial thing. 

The emotional climax of the film is obviously Evan’s WAY TOO LATE confession, but the idea that it’s prompted by Connor’s family suddenly getting a lot of internet hate is, frankly, laughable. If Sandy Hook taught me one thing, it is that no tragedy is immune from trolls who live only to cause other people devastating emotional pain on the internet. That shit starts day 1. Apparently no one involved in this production has ever been on Twitter?

Also it feels like there should have been a dog somewhere in this movie and there was no dog, so points off for that too. 

Perhaps Dear Evan Hansen isn’t nearly as deep as it aspires to be. Perhaps it’s a morality play, a simplistic message of “Don’t lie, kids, lying is bad!” Major studio movies wrap themselves up with a nice bow at the end so everyone can feel good about themselves and leave with a happy ending, but the moronic cruelty on display here makes that feat feel impossible. We’re left with Evan in an orchard, reading Connor’s favorite books and staring into the big blue sky with all the self-actualization he’s earned now as a lil treat. And if Evan Hansen looked like an actual 18-year-old, it would be a lot easier to extend more empathy to him and his not-fully-developed prefrontal cortex, but it’s a little harder with this fully-grown, weathered man who was old enough to remember seeing Liar Liar in theaters. 

Dear Evan Hansen, 

Get some actual help and a haircut and maybe you can grow up enough to have an actual healthy interaction with any other living person, ever.

Sincerely, 

Me

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

[barzzal]

yay yay to wet weekends!! one thing i haven’t stopped thinking about lately is the idea of Sid being on a long roadie and calling/facetiming each other just to get off (maybe after a good game or randomly) because you’re both desperate but i can see it being sooo hot and yeah that’s that

warnings: nsfw (18+) light smut, sexual and suggestive themes, facetime sesh and toys!!

The two of you have been agonizingly quiet since Sidney finally got into bed after his evening shower. It had been a back to back loss in New York, having faced the Rangers, and he just couldn’t stand the thought of getting another once they play the Islanders tomorrow.

You rub your eyes, not wanting to fall asleep. Almost a week has gone since you last saw him and having to endure Sidney being away on the road has always been tougher for you than you’d ever admit.

“How was your day?”, asked Sid.

Despite being in a sour mood, you appreciate how he still doesn’t miss on the little things. You give him a smile in acknowledgment.

A tad sleepy, you tell him how your day went about. It was the middle of your term; almost nearing your finals actually. The week where all assessments are flowing into your mail endlessly to be exact. Some were reports— case reviews, court procedures, heavy readings, and all that goes under being in law school. You even remember that you have to practice for another mock session you were about to have as your final exam.

“Rough night, huh? Is there anything you want me to do?” you genuinely ask him, turning to Sidney’s side of the bed— absentmindedly running your hand through it. You miss him. It’s plain obvious.

“Nah. I’m good, baby.” he declines with a smile. You choosing to stay up late for him was already enough. 

“I just can’t wait to come home. This series is taking too much from the team.” he frets.

You let out a sigh, “I know you’ll pull through babe. You boys always have. Just think of it as like... a minor hiccup. A fluke, maybe?” you say, trying to make him feel better.

“Thanks, hon.” he smiles, a tired one however.

You fall silent once again, just in the calm of seeing each other on the screen when a thought hits you.

You perk up slightly, resting your back on the headboard, “Hey,” you softly call.

“Hm?” Sid hums, massaging his temples.

“You remember the black box I gave you for valentines?” you ask.

Sidney mutters a soft ‘yeah’ on the other line. 

“Well, I kind of snuck it in your suitcase.” you inform him. You prop your back with a pillow, biting on your lower lip as you send him the subtle insinuation. “You wanna?” 

Sid immediately answers, his tired voice now emptied and gone, “Right now?” 

You nod casually, evidently surprising the fairly old-school fella. “It’s been a pretty rough day for the both of us.” you add.

He’s flustered, but with furrowed brows he still finds the need to ask, “How– how are we even gonna do... it?”

A mischievous smile escapes your lips, “Wait a second.” you tell him as you hurriedly go over one of the dressers to get your half of the battery operated toy. 

Sid on the other end was now rummaging through his luggage. Most of his stuff was safely put away and hung in the closet of his hotel room so he didn’t have much of a hard time spotting the black box you were talking about. He also took with him the lube that was tucked under one of the compartments. 

Sidney can’t help but shake his head with a faint grin upon seeing how you managed to discreetly place such things exclusively for him. Well, not that anyone would dare look into his things but it was nice to think that you knew him well enough and surprise him. 

Sidney got under the covers first. “Babe?” he calls when he sees nothing but the white ceiling of your shared bedroom back in Pittsburgh. 

He hears a distant ‘Coming!’ on your end so he waits patiently for you to get back on screen. 

Once you do, Sidney’s mouth falls agape as he sees you out of your former nightwear. “You didn’t have to change for this, y/n.” he explicitly says despite the obvious bobbing of his throat. 

“Relax. I’m gonna take it off anyway.” you wink, coaxing him as you get comfortable on the captain’s bed.

You proceed on teaching him the basics since Sidney’s - well, pretty conventional to say the least. He has you to thank for getting him into new things such as this. You orient him on how the toys work and how it is connected with the toy you have with you at home. That said, the two of you would basically feel each other’s strokes and pulsations as you delve into your long distance affair. 

You were about to take your brassiere off when Sid stops you the minute your hand reaches to unclasp the material on your back, “Don’t take it off.” he says.

“Why?” puzzled, you ask him nonetheless.

“It’s just that - you know how the internet works.” Sidney hushes.

You let out a laugh, a cackle even. “You’re really bothered about the FBI catching an NHL star jack off to his girlfriend, aren’t you?” 

Sid rolls his eyes and dismisses your notion. “It’s not the FBI I worry about. We’ll never know. I just don’t want a perverted hacker to catch what I got on my screen.” 

“You do know that there’s always ways to deal with that right?” you say, foolishly finding Sidney being his usual self more alluring than when he tries to be sexy. 

“Will you please stop lawyering your way into this?” he chuckles in defeat, scratching  his temple. “Just keep ‘em on. Besides, I like that color on you.”

You roll your eyes, “Fine.” You fix your number so he could see more of you on the screen despite still being covered. “Now, may we proceed?”

Sidney bites his lip, “We may, your honor.”

He adjusts himself to get out of his boxer shorts. He squeezes a generous amount of lube into the toy waiting for you to do the same on the other end. You let Sidney watch you fill your fingers with your spit whilst you look at him enticingly; eager to have his skin next to yours. However, given the circumstances that come with being with him, a night like this shall suffice. 

“You’re a fucking torture,” he groans; one that’s effortlessly made your belly flutter as if Sidney’s muffled noises were enough to wake all your sleeping senses. 

With tired eyes you tell him one thing as the two of you slip on your devices, meeting in between your own ends in the hopes of coming close to what it’s like holding each other, “So are you, Mr. Crosby.”

it’s wet weekends!

[erwinsvow]

𝐚𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

note: part two to the college headcanons! part one can be found here! i had a lot of fun writing these and i hope everyone enjoys them :) teacher/student dynamic warning for zeke and hange's, and i guess bullying for annie's :/

𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐨 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐝

the very definition of kind-hearted frat boy who doesn’t fit the stereotype he’s been assigned at all

starts off with accounting before realizing he hates math, moves into business management and marketing

the linkedin profile is absolutely popping, 500+ connections and details about every club and organization he’s ever been a part of

the friend that helps everyone find internships and fixes their resumes while offering helpful advice and not being condescending… anyways so that’s how you meet porco

he works at the career center 100% and does various coaching/prep help, and you, pieck’s friend, are in desperate need of an internship

so you’re complaining to your friend as usual, when she tells you to stop by the building and ask for a “pock”

so you do just that, walking in and asking for “pock” and porco is a little stunned by this pretty stranger calling him by a nickname reserved for his close friends, and even then he just barely tolerates it

but he doesn’t want to correct you, especially since you’re being so sweet and he can tell you need some help

so a meeting at the career center slowly turns into facetime calls to review applications and last-minute edits, stopping by your dorm to help you fill out paperwork and walking together to mail it out

i have a feeling porco doesn’t wanna be too forward, and he thinks he’s being very aloof and casual, when he really just seems oblivious

and you cannot tell for the life of you if he likes you or he’s just being friendly since you’re close with pieck

finally after you land the internship and won't have your normal excuse to spend time with him, you get the guts you've been searching for

you tell him about the position later in the day, stopping by the center for hopefully the last time

"by the way, my number's on my resume if you're ever gonna ask me out."

leaves pocky-boy flustered and red and scrambling to ask you out, and you have been happily dating since

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

oh boy

conny is a very typical college kid in the sense that he will sleep through every 8 am class he has, blow off class to go wait in line for the nacho bar, and has adopted the mantra ‘c’s get degrees’

but he is an extremely lovable education major with a focus in history

rarely seen without his shadow sasha, but now that she started dating niccolo, she thinks that conny could use a relationship too, and that it might do him some good to be with a funny, down-to-earth person

thus begins the most grueling two weeks for every girl on campus, as sasha hunts down girls that she thinks would be a good match for her best friend

this includes airdropping a photo of conny to the lecture hall with the caption “would you date this man? serious inquiries only”

creates a fake tinder complete with a google form to narrow down the options

however, none of this is necessary because sasha bumps into you in the smoothie line and causes your triple berry blend to go flying

she helps you clean up and idle conversation leads to you talking about dates and so forth

“well, i’d love to set you up with my best friend? how do you feel about a blind date?”

yes, conny met you, the love of his life, on a blind date set up by sasha with a stranger

it’s one of those funny stories that people don’t believe when you tell them, because how ridiculous is that, but you both think it’s perfect since you get along so well and it made all the waiting worth it

bonus: double dates with sasha and niccolo! fondue night at their apartment, going to the arcade and having to lug up sasha and her food baby while niccolo parks the car, just overall a grand time :)

𝐳𝐞𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫

zeke yeager, ph.d. started his new job at university with one rule in mind: absolutely no illicit affairs

he also coaches the club baseball team, because why not get involved on your campus

he really believes that he’s gonna stick with it too, despite the overwhelming number of students who come to his office hours with questions that his less handsome teaching assistants could answer

but no, he doesn’t want to earn a reputation as that professor, and so he heads into the new semester with absolutely no lingering thoughts of an exciting little dalliance to get him through the monotonous days

he knows his huge lecture classes would always come with a few pretty students, but it’s the smaller, upper-level psych class he’s teaching when he meets you for the first time

zeke has you all figured out, or so he thinks. sitting in the front row, raising your hand for questions he wasn’t expecting anyone to actually have an answer to, neatly handwritten notes in a color-coded notebook. he wouldn’t peg you for the type to jump and take the risk by starting a relationship with a professor.

but he soon realizes that he didn’t have you as figured out as he thought he did.

you avoid the gaggle of freshmen during office hours by scheduling meetings instead, sometimes right before class, coming to him with two cups of coffee and a wide smile that actually had him fooled into thinking you were here for academic reasons

this facade quickly fades though, because after a semester of interactions with you and getting more and more comfortable with each other, to the point where coffee orders are memorized and it’s zeke rather than professor yeager, you’ve had just about enough

he knows he’s fucked when you come visit him at practice for the baseball team, bringing him a drink and engaging in conversation while the players watch their coach flirt with you

he’s especially fucked when he realizes he’s looking forward to practice just because there’s a chance you’ll stop by on your way to your next class

you submit your final paper early, nearly a week before it’s due and of course the first in the class to do so, and waltz into his office the next day with another steaming cup of his favorite drink

“you submitted your paper pretty early, you know.”

“i know. i also know that it means i’m not your student anymore, so if you were going to make a move, now’s the time.”

no, he definitely had underestimated how much he knew about you.

𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐚 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧

mikasa is a forensic sciences major and is still debating on the minor- she’s torn between criminal justice or history like armin.

she loves her major classes, but she just wants something else interesting to look forward to as well, so armin suggests sitting in on a couple classes early in the semester and getting a taste for it.

so you don’t really think twice when she claims the empty seat next to you on the first day of classes, smiling politely and paying attention to the professor. you do notice, however, that she’s not writing anything down or looking at the syllabus, leading you to strike a conversation on why that is.

she explains herself and then before you even know it, the lecture ends and you spent the last forty minutes talking to mikasa about anything and everything.

she’s sitting in on another class tomorrow, and absent mindedly invites you to come along, to which you agree all too quickly, because why wouldn’t you

numbers are exchanged, times are fixed, and mikasa leaves wondering why she’s so excited at the idea of sitting with you in class again.

you two hate the history class she had chosen, with the professor droning on and on and you being focused entirely on the conversation you’re having with mikasa

until the professor kicks the two of you out for not shutting up, that is

you’re both laughing hysterically once you reach the hallway

“i’m gonna have to discourage you from doing that history minor if that’s what all the classes are like.”

“well, i have to do criminal justice so we can have that class together, anyways.”

𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭

true to form, annie goes into one of the most difficult majors: cheg. definitely flies through intro courses with straight As and minimal effort, but that’s also mostly because all she and bertholdt do is study

reiner tries his hardest to get her to go to a party every once in a while, but usually to no avail because she always has an exam to study for

you’re a tutor, and honestly, you’d say you were pretty good at your job. you can answer questions and explain reasonings fairly well to confused students. but when annie comes to your office hours with some complicated problems and she’s asking for explanations that you just don’t have, you literally feel your face burn with heat for the entirety of the time she’s there

long story short, your first encounter is embarrassing, to say the least. you’re stumbling over words as you try to look through your old notes and piece together an answer for annie, who you cannot even look in the eyes.

anyways, she leaves eventually and you want a hole to open in the ground and swallow you up, but at least she won’t be back next week, right?

wrong.

miss leonhart doesn’t know how to express her feelings any better than you, so her way of flirting is spending time with you in the tutor center as you fail to answer her questions time and time again

you want to scream at her to stop coming because she and you both know you’re not helping either of you with this

but also you really don’t want her to stop coming because you don’t have any other ways to see her outside of class

both of you reach your wit’s end on the same day, her coming to you with the absolute easiest problems she could find in the textbook, and you with every intention of asking her out to dinner

she opens her book, and you reach and close it quickly

“unless this is the only way you know how to flirt, something has to change now.”

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐳𝐨𝐞

dr. zoë teaches, just, way too many classes

we’re talking multiple chemistry labs and upper-level research courses as well

you’re just a ph.d. student doing rotations as per usual, and you’ve heard the comments from students senior to you about dr. zoë, who makes every student in rotation say hange instead of the formal way you’re used to

you’ve heard everything from crazy to genius and everything in between

what you weren’t expecting was… so good looking, and young? and comforting? and talking about all the things that you didn’t have the guts to bring up with other people, like how you always feel a little left out in the field and that you think no one cares about your research interests that much—a lot of stuff that you find yourself pouring out to hange on your very first day in the lab

you’re wondering why it’s so easy to talk to them, and why none of the other rotations ever felt this comfortable

and then you realize you’re spilling your guts to someone who probably doesn’t even care, and has way more to deal with on their plate than a ph.d. student with imposter syndrome

so you’re apologizing right after you’ve finished, when you’re met with the warmest look and a reassuring hand on your shoulder

it’s so easy to fall after that, with weekly meetings and regular check-ins, and you know it’s wrong to have this strange crush on your superior, but hange really feels like the one person you can count on here

you hide the crush in favor of getting the mentorship you desperately think you need, but it’s not long until you’re onto the next rotation and the next lab’s work is even closer to the stuff you love

you hate the way you feel, that you’re not gonna have any reason to keep in touch and you never even got to explain how you feel about them—and that you didn’t even get to experience hange’s energy because she was always listening and helping you out

it’s not until you get a text the night before your first day in the new lab from hange, filled with reassuring words and asking for a coffee date later in the week to talk about how it goes, that you realize just how well hange understood you

𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

last but not least, miss pieck is double majoring in french and public health

absolutely obsessed with her majors and loves the subjects, but works herself to death to keep up with it all

you don’t even realize that the pretty, studious girl you’re seeing in the library all the time is the same girl you spot with some of your friends from class

pieck is as oblivious as they come. you invite her on study dates after you two are introduced by reiner, invite her to get coffee after a particularly late night of studying, pretty much start spending most of your days together

you can’t help but be disappointed that pieck doesn’t see you in that way, because you’ve slowly been falling head over heels, but you accept that maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, and you still love the friendship you two have

it takes a while for things to click for pieck, but they do right as the semester eases up

once exams are over, you two decide to go to these famous parties porco and reiner never stop talking about

it’s not the usual scene you’re comfortable with, but what’s wrong with letting loose a little, especially after midterms? no harm in having fun, right?

wrong again! you definitely get plastered way too quickly, and eventually pieck takes you to a room to settle down

drunk confessions of love aren’t usually the way to go, but you can’t help but reveal everything you’ve been feeling for the last few months when pieck is taking care of you in your current state

you definitely wake up hungover and ignorant to last night’s shenanigans, but you’re in your dorm, with a bottle of water and ibuprofen on the nightstand, phone plugged in and shoes off

pieck comes back with breakfast, coffee and your favorite pastries, and checks up on you

“so.. about last night..”

“i’m so sorry, did i throw up on you?”

“no, but you did say you were in love with me. was that just a drunk thing, or is it a sober thing too? because i think i’m in love with you too.”