#I won’t be doing anything on Sunday other than cleaning though!

[lansolot]

Art coming soon. Hopefully. I’ve just been incredibly busy this past week 😔

[pinkaditty]

Who's Passing NNN? Tokyo Debunker

sigh

a/n: this is extremely low effort but in my defense im pretty sure i was drugged on halloween. *ahem* originally this was SUPPOSED to be low effort but clearly i got way too into it. anyways. i’ve been working a lot lately which is why i don’t have many works out rn! i work weekdays from 8 in the MORNING so it’s a lot going on but i use what little free time i have yk? ntm i have MULTIPLE projects im also working on 4 a different site so it’s a lot. i don’t think anyone’s gonna read this but im working on being a vtuber so its lots of prep lmfao! and with that, my weekends are mostly spent sleeping or with friends, but i really enjoy my work. ill be going back 2 school eventually so i need 2 figure out how the hell im gonna make that work, but i will. amen. pray 4 me y’all. oh also reqs r still being worked on i promise. just gotta get this fucking schedule under wraps.  anyways. this came 2 me on a random sunday (betraying the lord as usual) and i decided. lets write porn. i wanna do something silly bc my friends have been panicking abt climate change and its rubbing off on me. amen! quick disclaimer that i write these under the assumption the tokyo debunker boys are at least 18 years old. they appear to be present at a university considering there are professors and a chancellor. not to mention the boys drink, smoke, gamble, and refer to themselves as adults.

summary: who out of the tokyo debunker boys will pass nnn? who will fail? cliche i know but let me have this

cw: jerking off i guess. mc mentioned but no physical appearance described. MINORS DNI!!!!!!! Frostheim || Vagastrom || Jabberwock || Sinostra || Hotarubi || Obscuary || Mortkranken (before you ask vagastrom and jabberwock r already written jus not posted yet)

MINORS DNI AS PER USUAL TY FOR RESPECTING MY BOUNDARY!

Frostheim:

Jin Kamurai: Pass

Pretty touch and go with this guy. He’s never heard of it before, so when it’s a sudden trend around campus, he’s not visibly piqued, but he is… interested. Outwardly, he’d think it’s absolutely fucking ridiculous. Inwardly? He’d want to do it to prove something to himself. Of course, on the rare occasion he has an odd dream… well, he prioritizes his own pleasure over some pathetic game. 

He finally wakes up from a rather interesting he just had after lounging around and avoiding his work. You’re supposed to be coming soon to drop off some documents. Maybe that’s why you were in his dream. Hmph… What, he dreams of his… servants, now? Rolling over proves to be a challenge when his half-hard cock jumps at the slightest shift of his sheets. Now this? Well, he won’t hesitate to take care of it. A simple pillow will do the trick. In mere moments he’s humping into a large pillow, burying his face in one end and thrusting his hardening clothed cock in the other end. The friction more than satisfies his needs. He’s so focused on it that his vision swims, most of his body going slack except for his arms squeezing the pillow taut to his chest and his hips insistently searching deeper, warmer, and wishing for wetter, tighter. When it’s all over, and his focused expression melts into a slack-jawed, bleary-eyed one, he knows he’d much rather stay here, in his sheets. His warm, sticky release, however, will eventually turn uncomfortably cold, and he knew you were on your way. 

Tohma Ishibashi: Pass

He’s participating because he knows Jin is participating. That’s really all there is to it. He’s not interested in any clout or anything, just thinks it’s funny. He doesn’t do this too frequently, but often enough to keep his rocks off, you know? Sometimes, though, he doesn’t really get any free time for months cleaning up after Jin, so… It’s those times that are more interesting. 

He tries rather hard to go slow for the sake of savoring it, but fails miserably - it’s been months, after all. His uniform is much too hot to be doing this in, but god forbid he waits another minute. A sweaty collar and cum-stained slacks could be washed, anyway. Despite starting with slow strokes, before he knows it, his hand is wrapped around his dick, rubbing furiously like there’s no tomorrow. His other hand claws into the bedsheets beneath him, pulling them every which way. His face contorts into a number of different expressions: his jaw clenched tight and his eyes narrowed harshly, or his jaw slack with his tongue lolling out and his eyes rolling to the back of his skull, or even his lips pressed tight together to stifle moans with his eyes screwed shut just as well. Regardless, he’s enjoying himself and desperately trying to keep a hold of himself. Finally, when the wave of pleasure comes, he presses his face into his pillow, knowing it’s hopeless to attempt to keep quiet. He spills more than he intends every single time, and when he collapses on himself, feels his dampened body melt into his equally dampened sheets. His hair is disheveled, his uniform is sloppy, and his monocle slips off his face. Fuck. He’d have some washing to do. 

Lucas Errant: Pass

Do you think this guy masturbates? Like genuinely? I don’t doubt it but I think if he was challenged to go a month without it he’d manage fine. I think, at best, he does it when he’s so fucking exhausted from studying that he can’t focus. 

Like, he’s studying one night. An itch makes itself known, but it’s easily suppressed. He smoothly focuses on his work. The itch rises again. He ignores it again. His leg begins to twitch. He ignores it even more. His leg starts bouncing without him realizing it. He presses a hand down on his knee, purposely avoiding touching his thighs, and attempts once again to focus on his work. The itch spreads, reaching from his groin to his legs, slowly crawling up his back. He still stifles it and forces his eyes to absorb the words on the paper of the book in front of him. The itch reaches his neck, creeping up his spine to his face. Suddenly, he’s flushed, and he realizes that, despite his best efforts, here he sits: half-hard, not absorbing the information in the book, his breathing heavy and his vision swimming. Damn! He allows himself the slightest freedom, knowing that will lead him to the gates of release whether he wants that or not. When he’s covered in his own sticky release a few minutes later, clarity hits him at last. He bites his lip and suppresses a groan as he stuffs himself back into his pants, shaking his head to rid himself of the cloudy orgasmic feeling. Finally, back to work. 

That being said, November is a cinch… unless this happens. 

Kaito Fuji: Fail

I don’t need to explain myself I think lol! Horniest virgin on the face of the earth. Yes, he fails, to thoughts of you, at that! I’m even willing to bet the one time he tries, he fails accidentally via wet dream. Sucker! It’s surprising, though… When he puts his mind to it, he really can keep his hands off himself… for less than a month. 

It’s late at night and he’s not studying, rather rolling around in his bed, back and forth, trying to resist the insistence of his cock, pressing into the mattress at full mast. He huffs face first into his pillow, feeling his cock strain against his underwear. He could stand this for a little longer. Just a little longer… November just started, sure, but if he beat his record of one week, that’d be accomplishment enough for him. He has to resist the urge to whine as he rolls over again, his cock pressing and pressing and pressing against all things within reach. He rips the covers off of him, frustrated, feeling warm from the heat of his arousal anyway. He could get through this, right? His fingers grip his shirt collar, bunching it into his fist. His other hand gripped his phone, as though using it to ground himself. He shifted the screen to his face. Maybe he’d be able to find something to take his mind off of things. He opens WickChat and scrolls, searching for a distraction. However, the gods must be against him, because all he can do is open his chat with you, and pretend you’d sent him nudes. He tosses his phone back onto his bed, clenching his hand into another fist before it could drift any further towards his groin. He bites furiously on his fingernails, burying his face into his pillows. His cock continued to beg for attention. 

a/n: well, i hope u enjoyed! im so tired and i have work in 6 hours. goodnight lmfao!

note that i appreciate likes, comments, and reblogs!! im not open for reqs atm, but please feel free to just hop in 2 give little random thirsts or something, i don't mind!

[inquisitornocturn]

NSFW alphabet no.1 - Andrei

We got first in line and it's Archbishop Andrei from VtMB, kindly requested by @porcelainseashore! Thank you <3 This was tons of fun and honestly can't wait to write out the others.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Assuming he’s been in a relationship for a while (or what he considers a relationship), Andrei would definitely be the one to let his partner rest and recuperate, especially after the things he has done to you. It would lead to caresses, reassurances from him that his lover performed well, and maybe some blood to replenish the stamina and recover from any ouchies that might have happened.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Andrei is not the one to hide or shy away, and as a Tzimisce he knows how to draw attention and show just what he is capable of, therefore he likes his face the most and puts it to good use, having his lover ride it as much as possible. He might even smoothen out a feature or two to accommodate you in such endeavor, but only if he’s in a very giving mood. In a partner Andrei would like your waist, always having his hands on your torso, be it during sex or otherwise, always having a guiding hand on the small of your back in a both possessive and appreciative manner.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Saying this man is fond of giving facials doesn’t quite cut it. Definitely a kink for him to see your face doused in his cum, and it can quite often get Andrei worked up again almost immediately. If you do it enthusiastically and readily, Andrei might even start carrying wet wipes to help his lover afterwards to look presentable, cleaning your face himself.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Andrei has a bit of a peeping fetish, especially when it comes to his partner. He will sneak a look through a cracked door or through a shower cabin glass while you are unaware, just to see you act without his presence nearby. He most enjoys seeing you touch yourself without knowing that he’s watching (even though you totally do know it and grant him such a show on occasion).

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Very experienced with double underline. He’s been around for a while and for someone with experimental nature that comes from being a Tzimisce, Andrei tried near everything that there is to try under the sun. However, he does have his preferences, but if you want to try something – Andrei will definitely comply and show you how to do it safely and in the most exciting way, wanting nothing more than to share his expertise with his lover.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

His partner on top. He enjoys being able to see the muscles move, the skin pull and each and every smallest movement of your form as you ride him. This way he can also allow his hands roam anywhere he wants and he does it liberally.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Andrei can be quite serious, especially if he’s in a “teaching” mood, where he shows his partner something new or introduces them to toys, etc, just to make sure that you follow his words exactly, but in more casual situations, like a lazy Sunday midnight, he can be more joking and relaxed, teasing you about the weakness of your flesh if you run out of stamina a little too soon.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Depends on a mood for Andrei. Sometimes he prefers to have a trimmed bush, but most often he goes without any simply because it’s easier to not have hair on him. Maintenance of such frivolities are only executed when he’s utterly bored out of his mind and that happens extremely rarely.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s truly very into it whether he’s teaching his lover something new or having a lazy fuck. Andrei’s whole attention is on you and won’t drift until the session is fully done, aftercare included. No matter if it’s a quick fuck somewhere semi-public or a relaxed dawn in your shared haven, his attention is on you and only you, including a lot of reassurances, guiding words and praises.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Rarely does it and sex does not interest him at all unless it’s with his chosen companion. Cheating is not even a concept for Andrei because he has his lover and that’s all he needs or wants, focusing rather on his work, flesh shaping and the like, so he only touches himself if you specifically request it of him. He also prefers to keep himself for the moment he can get relief with his lover, quite enjoying feeling pent up until he has his hands on you again.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Bondage and all kinds of restraints, either on him or his partner, get him going like nothing else. Leashes, handcuffs, leg-spreaders, you name it – he has it, and will enthusiastically use them. Andrei also has a bit of a CNC kink, enjoying to make you appear scared and submissive, only to see how far he can push you, but he won’t go too far unless you explicitly tell him to, but he will always prefer a very open-minded partner versus someone less eager to explore new avenues.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Somewhere where he can take his time, for sure. Considering Andrei is much into binding, he can make do on the go, but most ideally he can take it slow and without a rush because it’s one of his ways to unwind and completely relax. It’s his and your time and he doesn’t want anyone ruining it or interrupting it, even if you can tease him and entice him to take risks outside the privacy of the haven.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your teasing nature. He’s naturally pretty composed in night-to-night life, but he’s weak when it comes to his partner. There would need to be a very serious, very urgent situation for him to be completely disinterested if you suggest something naughty, but then you would know better than to ask for sex. Andrei folds easily for compliments and touches, although one lusty look from you could have him pulling you into his arms, especially is you act a little bratty and don’t give in right away after he begins showing interest.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Andrei would never use sex as punishment or torture. While he does enjoy CNC, the consensual aspect of it is what truly works for him vs not having it. He has no time to enact such cruelty onto his enemies because he does not desire them carnally and he would have no interest in continuing a sexual situation if his partner is not fully into it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Both. Andrei loves giving as much as receiving. Ride his face or sit on the edge of the desk, in a bed or on the floor, doesn’t matter as long as he can put his face between your legs and his mouth on you to make his partner gasp and whimper. Same goes for him, whenever you’re in a mood and on your knees – he will eagerly let you have your taste, being extremely fond of the eye contact the entire time.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual. For a man who likes to take his time with all things refined – sex is definitely one of those things. He also prefers to have several sessions, lasting hours, until his lover and he are so spent neither of you have any needs unmet. But it depends on you how often these happen because while he reciprocates eagerly, Andrei is still more focused on other things than just carnal pleasures, his attention easily being occupied by own’s tasks and goals, from which you need to encourage him to take his mind off, so when that happens – he definitely take his time.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Andrei definitely partakes in them and indulges you when you wish for them, but it’s not his favorite. He will initiate them from time to time, if your teasing gets that bad to him, but even then he will try to take as much time as reasonably possible, just to ensure your knees are weak and you’re fully satisfied, at least until he can have you somewhere without any interruptions.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As mentioned before – Andrei loves to experiment and eagerly will partake in anything you might suggest, expecting the same from you. Trying new things is one of this favorite things to do with a partner and gets his blood proverbially pumping. He also likes all kinds of games and chase for the goal, so if you can come up with something that will keep his attention with a reward of trying something he wanted to try with you for a long while – you have made this kindred effectively very happy.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

How long can you last is the right question. Andrei will go as long as you wish, drawing stamina from seemingly thin air. How – you don’t have a clue and he won’t tell you, liking to keep you in suspense at least about something when it comes to bedroom adventures. In the end, he will always reassure you that he’s thoroughly satisfied even if he never looks more exhausted or tired than you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Very much into toys, Andrei likes to see just how much you can take, overstimulation is something he seeks on almost all occasions. He will also let you use them on him, always being intrigued if you can show him something new or make him experience a new type of sensation. And if you prove yourself to be eager and willing to learn, he will even show things that only his clan can do.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Only teasing when he already has his cock in you and otherwise does not tease at all, but that leaves him vulnerable to your own teasing, that gets him going more often than he would admit, although you know that very well yourself.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not loud at all, preferring to whisper. He doesn’t need to breathe and he won’t indulge in simulating it either just for show, so generally he’s the quiet type, but he can speak during sex and he will, from praises to encouragements, to instructions, he won’t stop talking, it’s just you won’t hear him grunt or moan at all.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

You don’t need two men for double penetration when Andrei is with you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Honestly, whatever he wants to have going at almost any given moment. As a flesh-shaper he generally keeps his cock human enough for practical reasons, but if you kindly ask him for something a little extra (and ask very very nicely) he will indulge you with gusto. Just don’t be surprised if he enjoys stuffing you beyond your capabilities because “you asked for it” after all.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He matches sex drive of his partner. If he has someone with him who’s not interested in sex then Andrei won’t be interested himself and he won’t feel like he’s missing out on anything either, rather turning his attention to what he has rather than what not. And if his partner is very sexually active, then you will need to entice him, but he will almost never refuse you and will enjoy it thoroughly. He’s a man who adapts easily.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If the dusk is not coming any time soon, he will stay awake watching you, analyzing every single thing on your face and body, and just generally enjoying his time with you in his arms, but otherwise he will still be second to go into slumber, no matter how early it is. You just won’t likely find him by your side when the dawn comes, busying himself with whatever research he might be doing or some other business, but Andrei will still give you a kiss whenever you join him.

[lafiametta]

Anora prompt: Sunday

A little post-film hurt/comfort, as a treat! :)

He wakes up to the sound of his phone going off and blinks his eyes open just enough to see who could be calling him at nearly two in the morning.

“Hey,” he says, his voice thick with sleep.

“Hi,” she replies, and in the brief pause he can hear the faint sounds of a scratchy intercom and a baby crying. “So I know it’s late, and you’re probably sleeping, but can you come pick me up?”

“Where are you?”

“The emergency room. I’m still in the city.”

Igor doesn’t respond immediately, his mind still not fully awake, compounded by the spike of low-grade panic about what might have happened to her.

“It’s just...” she continues. “It turns out I’ve got a concussion and they won’t let me leave on my own. And my sister’s not answering. She must be at her boyfriend’s or something.”

A concussion? Wasn't she at work? What the hell happened? He doesn’t ask these questions, though, because he knows that waiting for answers will mean more time before he can get in the car.

“No problem. It will be maybe forty five minutes. I'll try to hurry.”

In the darkness of his room he throws on some pants and a hoodie, shoving his feet into sneakers, then grabs the car keys from the drawer in the kitchen, and leaves the apartment quietly so he doesn’t wake up his grandmother. The roads are fairly empty this late at night so he makes good time through Brooklyn. The tunnel spits him out downtown and from there it’s a straight shot north to the location she shared with him.

After wandering around the building for a few minutes, he finally finds her, sitting near the door in one of the waiting rooms.

His breath stills a little when he sees her. She hadn’t mentioned any other injuries besides the concussion, but as she stands up he can see that her arm is wrapped in a sling and there’s some scrapes and bruising along one of her cheekbones.

“Are you okay?” he asks, as he quickly glances over the rest of her to check that there’s nothing else.

“Yeah,” she says, but her eyes look weary, like she can’t wait to close them. “I’ll live.”

There are a thousand questions he still has, but they can wait. Right now he needs to make sure she gets taken care of.

“Are you ready to go?” he asks. “Do you need to do anything else?”

“I’m good. Just let me wave to little miss control freak over there” —she turns and with her unencumbered arm catches the attention of one of the nurses behind the desk, then points to him as if offering up proof of his existence— “and we can get the fuck out of here.”

They stop at a twenty-four-hour pharmacy on the way back so she can pick up the prescriptions for pain medicine they’ve given her. Along with the prescriptions she buys an energy drink and a gallon of milk.

In the car she finally tells him what happened, but only in the broadest possible strokes. There was a client, a guy she had never seen at the club before, and he was fine at first, but then he kept drinking and started getting possessive and angry. He grabbed her—grabbed you where? Igor thinks, his hands tightening with fury around the steering wheel—and when she pulled away he smacked her on the side of the face.

“Asshole. I fuckin’ got him back, though,” she says, and Igor has no doubt that she did. “That’s when he knocked me down and I hit my head. Sprained my arm too when I fell.”

And where the hell was your security? he thinks. Where were all your bouncers? Just looking at their phones and not paying any attention to what was happening? Cyka blyat! he wants to yell, but instead he breathes out and focuses on driving the car.

He’s never had a problem with her job, even though he knows that a lot of men would. Is taking your clothes off and dancing for money any more shameful than beating people up for money, as he’s sometimes asked to do, or having to clean rich people’s toilets or scrub their floors? It’s just a job, like any other—and it’s one he knows she’s very good at. He doesn’t like the danger that it puts her in, though: the risk that some mudak—like the one tonight—is going to walk in the door and think because he gives her money he has the right to do whatever he wants to her.

“So what happened? Did you call police?” At least if they arrested the guy he can’t try to come back.

She shakes her head. “He ran. Turned out the credit card he was using was fuckin’ stolen.”

“How did you get to the hospital?”

“Jimmy called me an Uber.” Her voice is tired and she looks just as spent, curled up in the seat with her legs tucked under, the side of her head leaning against the headrest. “Thanks for coming. And for picking up when I called. You didn’t have to.”

Igor nods, warmed by her gratitude. “I am glad you called me.”

“You were fuckin’ asleep though, weren't you?” She’s smiling a little, even as her eyes are half-closed. “I made you drag your ass out of bed?”

“Yes, I was sleeping,” he says. “I have to take my grandmother to church tomorrow morning. Or this morning.” He looks at the clock on the dashboard; by the time he drives her home and gets back, he might be able to get in a few more hours of sleep before he has to get up again. “But it’s okay.”

He parks the car in front of her house and then helps her inside. He’s never gone inside before and he’s pleased by how neat and normal it all is, houseplants in the windowsills and little throw pillows on the couch. There’s no reason to be surprised—why shouldn’t it look normal?—but it makes her seem softer somehow, a little more real. Everything’s dark and quiet, with only the hiss of the radiator, so her sister must still be gone.

He grabs her a glass of water for the pills while she changes clothes, her jeans and boots exchanged for sweatpants and fuzzy socks.

She’s sitting on her bed when he brings it to her and for a moment he's distracted by the floor-to-ceiling pole a few feet away. It must be for practice, he realizes, and then does his best to dispel the mental image he’s conjured as quickly as he can.

“They said somebody should stay with me,” she says, more quietly than he’s used to hearing her, “to make sure I’m okay.”

“Okay,” he says. He can’t stay for long—he needs to get a little sleep before church—but her sister will be back eventually and then he’ll go.

She lies down, carefully arranging herself so that her injured arm drapes over her side. There’s some space next to her on the bed—space she’s left for him, he suddenly realizes.

“Stay,” she says, and he can’t tell if it’s a question or a command. It doesn’t really matter, because he’s quickly shoving off his shoes and laying down next to her, his body curling instinctively around hers. Her dark hair smells like citrus and cigarettes and it’s all he can do not to reach out and run his fingers through it.

After a few minutes, Igor hears her breathing turn slow and even; he knows if he falls asleep too there’s a chance he won’t wake up in time for Sunday service. But he can wait a little longer. He doesn’t have to go just yet.

[send me a one-word Anora x Igor prompt]

[twilightknight17]

Decision's Eve - Part 1

This time on P3R: My social links are further along than I thought, so that’s enough to keep me from dwelling on our upcoming decision for longer than necessary.

(Also, obviously, this got too long for one post. XD)

Odagiri’s change of heart is coming along very solidly, because the teachers are being completely unreasonable about the whole thing.

Like… Why on earth does this teacher even want me on the suspect list (for the single cigarette)? Do I look or smell like I smoke? Christ.

Although now I’m contemplating the comedic potential of Odagiri getting tossed into Shujin and crumpling even faster.

But if we went to Shujin, how would we get amazing lessons like this?

Also, the dorm is sort of decorated for Christmas, so… Merry Christmas from this dork and his smaller dorks.

Kenji and I go out for ramen to conclude his link. He’s basically thinking out loud, and I chose to say nothing, because this is rank 10 and I don’t have to be nice anymore. XD

Landed myself a cute boy by being myself, actually. But thanks.

Anyway, how are you doing, Kenji?

You’re the one who called yourself dumb! 8D

Somehow, he considers me his best friend, though, and he has a gift for me!

...oh. It’s… uh. It’s a choker?

A choker, though???? What the hell, Kenji. X’’’’D

Time continues to tick by, and Paulownia Mall is decorated for Christmas!!

I’m so glad they take advantage of the dome. That’s so cool. Makes me think about possible little details for fic stuff with the Paulownia family on the Other Side.

But eventually I have to go home, and I guess since nothing is really happening at night, I’ll do some more studying.

...oh my GOD finally. Okay. It’s after finals, but you know, whatever. I can ask Mitsuru to walk home now. Jesus christ it’s taken MONTHS.

Christmas is here, and while I contemplated taking everyone to Tartarus, Ken’s final “social link” event is up, so we’re off to the roof!

First of all, he’s not “that thing”.

Second of all, Ryoji is not going to fight anything like me? I mean I guess changing arcana is like changing personas, but we can’t do that on the roof. Physically, he won’t fight anything like me.

But okay.

It’s time for a Struggle Tournament, I guess.

Merry Christmas to me. I get to beat up a child with a whiffle bat. :D

The day after Christmas, I manage to take Mitsuru out for the first time. Right before winter break, so I won’t be able to rank up any more anytime soon. But this works.

It’s funny, because I knew about the whole “Mitsuru doesn’t know what a hamburger is” joke, but I didn’t realize it extended this far.

She wants to try these new things because she’s never had the chance to have them before, though. So ramen is a good place to start.

Sunday, we skip hanging out with Akinari to rank up Maya instead. But oh no, the servers for the game are going to shut down! Tragic. Maya is upset about this, obviously, and hatches a plan to potentially save her beloved MMO so we don’t lose contact!

You… You mean the logs where you admit to having a crush on your student? Probably not a good idea, and also they’re not going to keep the game running for two people. But okay, I guess. I’m gonna go stare longingly at the photo of my friends and the tower I got in Kyoto with my boyfriend.

There’s REALLY not much to do during winter break. I don’t know why all of my school friends vanish without a trace the instant school lets out. I’m gonna have to time things so much better in NG+ if I want to get all these links done. Mamoru’s only around like 2 days that aren’t Sunday.

But I guess I finally have time to work at the movie theater for the first time.

“Hot Snack” is exactly what I want when I go to the theater. Also, the name of my emo band.

I’ve also been working on Elizabeth’s requests, and I did one where she rewarded me with a cleaning brush that Ken can wield as a weapon.

But the next quest is…

:/

Liz. Why.

I did the thing, and as part of my reward, the brush now has the chance to poison enemies when you hit them with it.

Gross.

I do have to admit, though, there’s a lot more trash around town now.

Anyway, Aigis has been under repair since the fight on the bridge, and now, the night before our decision, she’s back. We’ve all already made our decision, though, so we’ll just have to tell her what we picked and then--

...no.

Aigis doesn’t understand why we’d want to throw our lives away like this. But we’re not. We’re at least trying, instead of giving up to wait for the end.

Junpei gives a really great speech, that does actually get through to Aigis.

The whole team points out that Aigis seems much more human than she did before the fight on the bridge. Which I guess means I can finally social link with her too when we go back to school. Which cramps all the rest of my social links if she’s only got a month for hers.

Again, my timing is going to be really important for the second go round.

But now it’s time to unlock the super double-secret DLC that leads to the Carnival of Contempt!

God, I wish. X’’’D Anyway.

My boy is here and he is sad.

Maybe if we hang onto you hard enough, you can keep your form.

Despite the fact that we have our decision, he tells us he’ll wait in Minato’s room, and to come see him when we’re ready to answer.

Babe, that is NOT helping. X’D Pretty sure that would influence our decision no matter what.

Everyone sends Minato upstairs to deliver the answer, and things are… a lot.

You were still you, though. Your soul was the same.

Don’t look so disappointed about that.

I love you, but how can you ask me to betray my friends like that?

He has a point, though. It’s just me. I can be a horrible person if I want to.

...the fact that he looks so happy that I’m going to kill him makes me instantly regret this decision.

Ryoji, I made the wrong choice. I know that. Don’t try to make this better.

He says he’s glad he met Minato.

You’ve been happy before!

Seriously, he just closes his eyes and waits.

What are we even doing?

It’s not midnight.

We can’t summon in reality.

What are you doing?

[thompsborn]

Just wanted to send a little reminder that even though you've planned to finish HB by Christmas Eve, everyone will still appreciate your work if you don't make this goal! Just because it's kind of soon and you haven't posted as much about progress since Ch16 dropped (which was perfect, by the way) so wanted to make sure that you weren't putting too much pressure on yourself to meet that goal :)

hi!!

first of all, thank you for saying this!! i have this habit of making promises that i know i COULD follow through on, but since there’s no consequences to NOT following through on them and there are other things that take priority (work, family, etc.) i tend to shove things to the back burner rather than put the effort in to follow through on my promises? if that makes sense? idk

so, i’m definitely going to TRY to reach this goal i’ve set out—and, honestly, it is entirely possible that i manage to! i can write a lot in a single day, like i wrote the first chapter of homeward bound (7.2k words) in a single sitting in december 2021 and i started the second chapter the same day i finished the first one but didn’t finish it. like it’s entirely possible for me to write hb 17 and 18 like. THIS WEEKEND. like i could, writing-abilities wise, write chapter 17 tomorrow and 18 sunday. that is well within my capabilities.

it’s less the writing-ability side of things getting in the way though haha. it’s more being tired and being busy. but!! i am NOT busy this weekend! my only plans are to do laundry, do some cleaning, go to a dog training sunday afternoon for like an hour with my best friend, and sleep!

that’s not to say that i’ll be as productive with hb as i would like to be - sometimes things get in the way, sometimes i end up being tired enough to sleep until like 1 pm lmao, shit might happen, but my HOPE is to get chapter 17 on a roll!

part of it is also that like, chapter 17 is basically the climax of the investigation? but hb is currently over 150k words and i have not been keeping very good track of the investigation in my notes and am lowkey paranoid that i’ve forgotten something important and such, so i’ve been rereading chapters 1-16 to make sure i have everything written down properly and accurately in order to close off that part of the plot in a way that is hopefully satisfying, which has taken time away from actually WRITING chapter 17, if that makes sense??

basically, i won’t promise anything, but i am still going to TRY and reach this goal, and i know that if i’m able to manage my time and maintain motivation then it is entirely possible for me to do so, but there is still probably a good 50/50 chance of it actually happening. but i’m hopeful!! and honestly every comment and ask i’ve gotten about hb has been SO kind and heartwarming that i know no one will be like mad at me if i don’t manage to make it work, which is a nice reassurance to give myself (i’ve mentioned this before, but the reason i stopped writing losers club fics was because of the asks being sent to me were very VERY rude and demanding and angry and i’m kinda just scared of that happening again here, even though i have not once been given a reason to think it would since writing for marvel/parkner, but still i get a little bit anxious about it)

so, genuinely: thank you for this, it does make me feel better and less worried about the idea of like. letting people down if i don’t manage to reach this goal? and i am not going to promise that i’ll be able to, but i am definitely going to try nonetheless!!

[jay-avian]

Creative Writing Project 1

Prompt: Write about a secret. If writing fiction: both characters know this secret, but only one of them knows they both know. (600-750 words)

Title: Our Intrepid Detective (yes, I stole from my own noir, it's okay)

I stepped into my office right at 7:00am, just like any other workday. I go to sit down at my desk where my case file and its contents lay scattered. I’ve been on the trail of a rather large crime syndicate in the city. I had been stumped on how to get them for good when my partner found out about a pick up happening tonight at the eastern docks. Brilliant man, Harvey is.

The plan was simple enough: wear a disguise, show up as one of the drivers, help them bring the goods to their “secure location”, then let the cops take care of the rest. I have to make sure that I’m more careful than I’ve ever been. If I’m caught among that large group, I’m surely done for. Thankfully, I have just the disguise for the job.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. The door opened and there Harvey was with our coffee. Harv is one heck of a man; built like a brick, he is.

“Mornin’ boss,” he says as he walks in.

“Mornin’ Harv.” He hands me my drink and I take a sip and sigh. “You know, tonight’s finally gonna be it. After tonight, we’ll have played all our cards right.”

“You sure your wife will be okay with you staying out another late night?”

“Hey, crime never slows down for anybody, and neither will I. Besides, she’s got to stay late too. You know how hospital work is.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

I get up from my seat and head to the window, taking another sip from my coffee. Looking down into the city streets this early in the morning is always so serene. A beautiful Sunday morning if ever there was one. All the saints and pretenders are getting ready to be ministered to. But I will be ministering to the sinners.

“Harvey,” I say, turning back around. “We’ve got some fishing to do.”

I arrive at the docks around 8:30pm. Harvey managed to snag me a delivery truck to borrow. I drive up to all the other trucks and step out. They had already started loading some of the trucks with crates from one of the barges in the dock. A woman was talking to some of the workers when she notices me, looks me over, and smiles. Guess the clean-shaved look really does it for me. She walks over.

She’s a real pretty one if I say so myself. Black hair tied up nice and clean, just enough makeup to bring out her features, a real nice burgundy dress too. Though something about her feels familiar. I mean, of course she lives in this city just as I do. Perhaps I’ve seen her at Molly’s diner before, or the theater.

“You another driver?” she asks.

“Yes ma’am,” I say politely. “Sorry I’m a bit late. Had some trouble with the missus.”

“You sure you won’t have more trouble after tonight?”

“Don’t worry about it. She knows I don’t play around.”

She chuckles. “That’s good. We’ll get your truck loaded, then I’ll hop in with you to give you directions.”

“Sure thing, doll.” I’m not sure why she’d offer to ride with me when I can easily follow the others. Then again, she may be trying to cozy up to me. Or worse, she might suspect something ain’t right. I can’t get nervous now though. Just have to keep my cool.

Crates get loaded onto my truck and we both hop in. We’re one of the last groups of trucks to go. As the lady’s giving me directions, we’re making a nice conversation. I feel a sense of strange warmth talking to her, but I know better than to give anything up. We eventually arrive at a warehouse on the southside where we leave the trucks to be unpacked by other members.

The woman gets out and gives a few more orders before heading to a real fancy car waiting for her in the lot. I walk her over and she gets into the driver’s seat.

“You need a ride home, darling?” she asks.

“I’ll be good, thanks. I’ve got a friend I can call up.”

“Whatever you say. As long as you meet me home Jack. I’ll be sure to make you that shepherd's pie you like.”

Before I can say another word, my wife drives off, leaving me speechless yet again.

[linaket]

Writing Update (2/18/23)

Tinder Saint Progress:

8 / 15 chapters complete

word count: we made it to 20k! (projected: 40k)

Excerpt:

Cathan’s gaze fell to the small flicker she cradled. “I am tired of being afraid.” She wrapped her other hand around the fire, holding it close enough to burn. “I’ve always been afraid. Every day. Look at you, Vahn. Even if I wanted to ask, I can’t. You are bleeding and no one has bothered to say anything about it.”

Vahn lifted a hand to his brow, scraping over the dried flakes of blood and wincing from the bruise. “Not bleeding anymore, technically.”

“There has to be something better than this. I have to believe that. If the wars don’t take us, there is always someone else waiting. ”

Salinae’s heavy, willing hands were a ghost at Vahn’s throat, and Ilye’s too-loud voice bracketed the memory. 

“Maybe they're waiting," he said, "but these trials will kill you a lot quicker.”

Cathan’s smile was an elegy that had long been written. “Then I won’t have to be afraid anymore, will I?”

🎵 Music: Eyes On Fire, Hahlweg ft. wayfie

I’m taking it slow Feeding my flame Shuffling the cards of your game And just in time In the right place Suddenly I will play my ace

I've been listening to some version of this song since I first started writing SP, but it is usually a Kanna song (the Blue Foundation, Zed's Dead Remix lives on her playlist).

This one didn't really inform any of the current chapters I worked on. It's actually far more consistent with Vahn in later chapters or even after Tinder Saint closes, but it's been keeping me excited to get these early chapters tightened up so I can show him growing and getting there and have my powerful, confident Vahn come out the other side of all this.

Thoughts:

I'm actually doing this a day early because I start a long stretch of work days tomorrow. I planned to do these on Sundays, but it's probably going to be... around Sunday because I'm very bad at knowing what day of the week it is.

Technically, I only have two scenes left lingering in what I'm considering my "early" section to complete... I had a lot of lingering bits that needed to get edited in and I managed to get that done, so its just those two scenes remaining.

I am getting more excited each day as I get closer to actually hitting the part of this story that I'm dying to write. Somehow, all three of my days off are in a row the week after next (Feb. 27-Mar. 1) and I want to have all this early part cleaned up enough by then that I can marathon through that section. It's hmm... 2-3 chapters and not even the "biggest" reveal, plot wise, it is simply the thing I'm most excited about in terms of being challenging and tricky in the best way.

It feels really strange, though, to think about how little I have left to write? Technically I've already written half of what I projected this novella to end up at and that took forever but... I have a feeling that after I get these last lingering parts from the beginning out of the way, if I had a free week to just write morning to night I'd be able to finish this in that time because its all knocking-down instead of carefully setting up and I tend to wrecking ball through that part of things.

I can probably get pretty close to finishing this draft by end of March... middle of March, depending on how far I can get in those three days that I do have off and if nothing out-of-bounds happens which... it really might, I have a lot of odd things floating around in my life right now that I'm expecting to hit right when I don't want them to.

[prev. week]

[endofapaige]

My First Holiday Alone: Magaluf

The title sounds a lot more thrilling than this actually will be. Not because I didn’t thoroughly enjoy my time, but because Magaluf has a reputation of parties and alcohol and rowdiness that we didn’t engage in. We tried to, go out on the piss one night, but apparently PMS mixed with alcohol mixed with your first holiday alone just results in crying. Don’t ask why, I’m not really sure why I cried.

Anyway, Magaluf 2023. A week in Spain, no parents, no responsibility. Me, my boyfriend, the sun, the sand and the sea. We flew out last Friday, the holiday itself was pretty spontaneous. We realised we were both in adult jobs, could actually afford it and thought this would be our only chance before we’re struggling students again. So we booked it, we saved and we went. Going into it I thought the airports would be the most stressful part, trying to navigate security and juggling times and eating and finding our way to somewhere we don’t know in a place we really don’t know. It wasn’t that bad really, before I think I’ve just mindlessly followed my parents and let them do the work unaware of how straightforward it is. We had hours to kill, as you always do in airports, I won’t bore you with the details of every shop we walked into, walked around and left without buying anything.

I’m quite a big fan of flying, I’m not an adrenaline junkie by any means, but I kind of enjoy the flipping feeling of take-off and the few hours where I can just sit and read without being tempted to look at my phone. Jack on the other hand hadn’t been on a plane for 13 years, cannot stand that flipping feeling and the smallest of judder of the plane sent him into a panic. If you ask him, he’ll tell you the turbulence was terrible. But it wasn’t all that bad, the flight home was much worse and even then, lasted maybe 10 minutes and there was only one dramatic drop that was enough to freak me out. Not that you can freak out when your boyfriend is on the verge of a panic attack in the seat next to you.

I found the most stress set in when we actually got into the hotel room. Everything was lovely, big tv, nice view of the McDonald’s across the road. I was overtired by this point, and I assumed the beds in the hotel room would be a double. I was wrong, just two singles pushed together with separate duvets. I was crying by that point, thinking I’d fucked it up and so excited to share a bed for a week. Jack was great, he was straight down to reception asking if we could get a double. It was midnight by the time we got to the hotel, so there wasn’t much they could do. Everything was sorted by the second day though. Once that was stressed, I walked into the bathroom and found a cockroach. I was crying again. Jack killed it with his shoe, but we ended up with blood and guts in the shower until the cleaners came, we thought if we’d left it they’d clean extra and make sure there weren’t any more for us. We didn’t see another one after that. We were telling our parents as it was happening, we had my mum telling us to go and complain and Jack’s laughing at us telling us it was no big deal.

On the first full day the stress had dissipated. We spent the day wandering the little town we were in, reading every menu we saw. The hotel we were staying at was a 2 minute walk to the beach and the strip, a road of restaurants and bars along the coastline that gets particularly loud during the summer nights. I very quickly located the nearest Starbucks, a superpower of mine, and we sat there for a while when it got too hot. There was also a Taco Bell right next door which we got straight afterwards; a fast food place we went to 3 times as it’s very rare in the UK, and can now very confidently say is shit. We ended up back in the hotel by the pool for a couple of hours after that.

The Sunday we got the bus into Palma. The biggest city in Majorca. A city that probably would’ve been lovely if it wasn’t raining, we hadn’t taken a wrong turn and ended up in the middle of nowhere and I hadn’t spent the entire day feeling a bit sick. The downsides of free buffet breakfast. In the evening we ended back in Calvia, the area we were staying, in Blackbeard’s Bar and Grill in which we ate more food than we could handle. The restaurant was incredible though, we sat outside on a bench on the sand, could see the sea just beyond and had a musician singing and playing guitar just inside. They specialised in Rum infused BBQ sauce, much like TGI Fridays but the chicken wings we had as a starter were the nicest chicken wings I’ve ever had. We had burgers for mains.

The Monday we didn’t do much at all, a day on the beach with a Fanta Lemon and an ice cream. I managed to finish two books, the second of which I finished just as we were landing back in Birmingham. I took a break from my Fantasy streak, having been in the middle of reading the Red Queen series by Victoria Aveyard to read Happy Place by Emily Henry, the newest novel by my favourite romance author. A book that was just as adorable as her others and was incredibly apt for a holiday. The second was The No-Show by Beth O’Leary another one of my go-to authors. A book I thought would be pure romance but was so much more than that and I was hooked on. Hopefully, I’ll get round to reviewing these soon.

I couldn’t tell you what we ate that day besides a Caramel Frappuccino and some ice cream. I know we went to McDonald’s a couple of days to try everything we don’t have at home, once was a McExtreme and a three-cheese burger. The former of which was grim. The second was us sharing 25 nuggets with a buffalo sauce and another garlicky-ranch like sauce we don’t get here. The third was our final day where we were boredom eating chicken wings and chicken bites.

Tuesday was by far the best day. We went to Marineland in Palma Nova. As we walked in, a worker shoved a parrot on Jack’s arm and took a photo of us. We saw seals and penguins and sting rays and the biggest turtle I’ve ever seen as well as lots of smaller ones. We even saw a monkey and some snakes. There was a birds show that we watched, it featured various tropical birds, some who could speak, some who could do maths, and some that could dance. We also watched a sea lion show and a dolphin show. Both of which were incredible. In the dolphin show, one of the employees was propelled through the pool by two dolphins pushing his feet. Jack and I sat right at the front for these, and I came out soaked by the dolphins. The first of which I am certain angled himself perfectly to splash me on purpose. We got slushies in dolphin bottles which we then carried around all day hoping to keep them as mementos and then realising we’d probably lose them and never touch them again, so we chucked them. In the afternoon, we did mini golf. Jack won by 3 points, but we were both embarrassingly bad on a few of the holes.

Tuesday night we were back in Blackbeard’s, this time, sharing nachos and ribs rather than wings and burgers. And on the cocktails instead of Irn Bru. All of which amazing.

Wednesday was another quiet one. Day drinking at Bondi Beach, a place we’d gone to to start a night out on Saturday but hadn’t eaten in properly. The food wasn’t as good as we hoped it’d be and was incredibly overpriced. I also tried a Long Island Iced Tea for the first time, which I took a sip of and didn’t touch again.

Thursday, we took a two and a half hour bus journey across the island to Dinosaur land. Jack being an incredibly big nerd, adored. Me, it was cool, but I had much more interest in the caves next door which we didn’t end up doing because Jack revealed in the ticket queue he was scared of rowboats. The burgers at Dinosaurland were incredible though, and then that evening we were back in Taco Bell, which again was minging.

Our final day was the slowest day I’ve had in a very long time. Our transfer back to the airport wasn’t until 7pm, and we didn’t have all that much to do after checking out at midday. We got milkshakes and wandered back into Palma Nova to a cute little restaurant called The Olive Tree which my mum found for us. I had a Caesar salad, and Jack had yet another burger. We also had freshly made lemonade which was amazing. The rest of the day we just lounged around in the foyer of the hotel wishing the time to pass before getting the plane home ready to watch Eurovision last night. Which Finland definitely should’ve won, right?

Jack’s back in his own house now, and we’re both back at work tomorrow like our holiday had never even happened. Wishing the time away until the next one, which for me is 5 days in the forest trying to relax with our two dogs in an unfamiliar environment, Jinx for the first time. Jack’s week in Cornwall might be a little bit more relaxing.

[cosblogs]

"How to Age 70 Years, Lose Your Identity, and Still Try to Have Fun—A Tiefling's Guide to Surviving Celeste’s Disaster"

Alright, folks. You know how this goes. The last time we had an adventure, we got caught in yet another disaster. And by "disaster," I mean Celeste-can't-catch-a-break version 16.829. You know, the usual series of unfortunate events where you’re tossed from one crisis into the next, no chance to breathe, let alone figure out what’s actually going on. It's like the universe is playing a practical joke on me—and, spoiler, I'm not laughing.

But hey, I’m once again having a crisis. I’m not even talking about the fact that Celeste somehow managed to age 70 years in an afternoon (though, how that even happened, I still don’t know), or that Riley and Marius somehow both ended up in a psych ward while trying to figure out their “new normal.” No, I’m talking about something much deeper—my identity.

Because, surprise, surprise, I’m human. Yeah, you read that right. Not a tiefling anymore—no horns, no claws, no canines. Just me: pale skin, jet-black hair, green eyes. A nice, clean slate. Definitely not the version of myself I signed up for, though. It’s like someone slapped a different body on me, and I’m supposed to act like it’s fine. As if this skin is even mine. Seriously, who is this stranger staring back at me? And why is it so wrong?

Not that there’s anything wrong with being human, of course. I mean, it’s a perfectly fine race, and everyone deserves respect, blah blah blah. But for the love of the gods, this is not me. It's a little hard to deal with, especially when I’m in and out of different worlds so fast I can’t even keep track. And I know I should probably just let it go, but I can't. Every time I look in a mirror, I expect to see my actual face staring back, but nope—just this... stranger.

Anyway, enough of my identity crisis, right? Who wants to hear about that? Let’s talk about the fun stuff—because, believe it or not, despite all the existential despair going on, there were some enjoyable moments in this fever dream I’m apparently stuck in.

Take, for instance, my little adventure with Kain. You know, the horizontal ground-touching flying? I mean, who doesn’t want to zoom through the streets, dodging mystery vehicles, with the scenery blurring past at speeds so fast you could hardly see where you were going? It was chaotic in the best way possible. And I know for a fact I won’t forget it anytime soon. Kain seemed to enjoy it too, so at least I didn’t completely drag him into my midlife crisis. But, honestly? I would’ve loved to take that mystery vehicle back to Barovia. Picture it: the wind in our hair, Barovia’s fields stretching out in front of us. Even just for a minute. It’s the simple things, you know?

Now, let’s talk about the real drama. You know, the elderly members of the group. Yeah, I’m talking about Celeste and Riley. I’ve been around long enough to know when someone’s in rough shape, and let me tell you, these two are looking like they're on the fast track to geriatric-ville. Celeste? Well, she’s aging faster than I can say “whiskey,” and if she gets any older, she might just crumble into a pile of air genasi dust. Seriously, I think her bones are already feeling it.

Riley, on the other hand? She might be old, but at least she’s making it work. She’s still cracking jokes, even if her back’s creaking louder than the floorboards in Mad Mage’s haunted house. But she’s tough, that one. Even after jumping off a building as if it were a casual Sunday stroll (don’t ask), she’s still got some fight left in her. I mean, sure, she might not have her wits about her—jumping off a building with a backpack on your back isn’t exactly something you do when you’re at your best—but she’s trying. I’ll give her that.

And then, of course, there’s the part where I start to feel real bad for them. Because the next area we got transported to? Let me just say, it’s definitely not as cushy as the last one. We’re talking nothing luxurious about it. And given the current state of Celeste and Riley? Yeah, that’s not going to end well if we’re not careful. I mean, I’d love to have my whiskey back and sit this one out, but I guess that’s just not in the cards.

So what do we do now? Simple: Keep going. That’s all we can do. Keep moving forward, hope for the best, and pray we’re not stuck in this bizarre fever dream for much longer. I don’t know about you, but I could really use a break from all this.

And hey, I’m sure Baba Lydia up there (yes, I know you’re listening) wants us to get this over with too. So let’s get on with it. Because frankly, I’m tired. And I want my damn whiskey back.

Until next time, when I'm hopefully not human anymore, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll get my drink back.

[jodilin65]

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 29, 2004 FedEx found us with no problem. In fact, they found us early while Tom was out getting the mail.

Valentine’s winner emailed Tom saying she sent the payment on Friday, but we’ll see.

As for Haiku, Tom thinks she shipped this last Friday the 27th, and not Friday the 20th which was when I got the tracking link. He says that people can have UPS print labels and send emails before packages are even sent, so I’m wondering if Ricki did that to make me think she was sent out last Friday because she knew I was getting antsy for her, and is ignoring me because she knows she shipped her this last Friday. Either way, I better get the doll or a refund.

Anyway, I got the supplies as I said, and of course they had to fuck up and I had to play email with Bob. I know everyone makes mistakes, though, and it was a simple matter to resolve. They left the grape oil out and I asked if it was on backorder or what. Bob emailed me back saying Jeff had been busy at the site and that he was expecting it in a week. He asked if I wanted credit or for him to keep it on file to put towards my next order. I asked that he ship it when he gets it and he agreed to do so.

Meanwhile, I spent nearly 10 hours going through the 5000 big sticks, pulling the bad ones which amounted to a few hundred which I dipped for myself. I have those and my 500 minis soaking. I soaked $30 worth of retail stuff for next to nothing. I use the minis as timers for when I bounce. They burn a half hour and I do two half-hour bounces a day. They’re also good for in the car when we go by all those smelly cows.

The burners are so-so. The wire pop-ups don’t come with a base of any kind. You have to put it on a plate or something. It’s not something I really care for. Some of the colorful clear acrylic burners are rather dull. Especially the browns and yellows. The greens and blues are ok, but the bright orange sure is nice. I’m keeping one for myself. The only problem is that they’re poorly made. The hole is too low on the slanted part which means some of the ash bounces off because the tip of the stick is too high. Tom’s taking care of that, though, but drilling a second hole higher up the slant, and at an angle that’ll lower the stick closer to where the ash is supposed to fall.

Incredibly, the mini sticks are slightly too long for the mini stick bags. Why oh why are people so stupid, I wonder? Can they ever do anything right? At least they only cost a couple of bucks. I’m sure we can use them for other things anyway.

I got the hang of making the stuff now. I’ve found that it’s easiest to toss the sticks in a Ziploc bag and soak them that way. Then when I go to dry them, I cut off the top of a 2-liter soda bottle that’s clean and dry and I dry them in that.

Meanwhile, tomorrow we’re going to list a couple of variety packs with burners included, to see how they do.

As for our other stuff, it’s not doing too well. The dolls and flags have no bids, but the lamps and hat do, so at least we’re getting something, along with whatever his ancient laptop goes for.

I lost a couple of pounds, so I’ve got just a few more to go. Maybe I’ll do that for as long as I can; diet down to 127, eat my way back up to the low 130s, and go back and forth like that. I’d prefer to diet to 100, even 115, and stay there too, but that’s just the dream of a 38-year-old packed with heavy muscle and a dead metabolism.

I was pleased to get mail saying they want to publish yet another Little Buddy picture! When I signed up as Lin S, I submitted a picture of him licking ice cream off a spoon. I used my real name when I submitted it.

We discussed Tom’s plan on how to go and what to do, even though we don’t yet know where we’re going. The plan is to sell the car and the furniture. Then we’ll buy a small trailer, one even smaller than Dennis’, so we won’t have to stay in hotels, and we’ll rent a storage container for our stuff.

The first thing we’ll do when we get moved is install the septic tank, the water tank, and the solar panels/batteries to generate our own electricity. Then we’ll build a shed and put up the internet dish. After that, we’ll build a bathroom and a temporary bedroom so I no longer have to sleep in the trailer. He thinks we can get this done in 2-3 weeks. Once the main house is built, the bedroom will become a workroom, and hopefully, we’ll install some form of fences along the way as well.

Whatever we do, I just want to get it done!

Later…

The renters are getting on my nerves right now. They’re idling a loud truck, the kids are screaming bloody murder, and their dogs are running around on our land as if they own it. I just hope to hell those damn dogs don’t interfere with the showing of the house! The people are no doubt going to walk about on the land and if they come running up to them, who knows how they may take it? Since 99% of the people here get dogs just to toss them outside 24/7, I’m hoping they won’t be that 1% that either keeps their dogs indoors or doesn’t have dogs at all. The worst thing that could happen would be a sonic boom when the people are inside the house, but that’s a lot less likely than these beasts getting in the way.

The truck just left, but I’m sure it’ll come and go 2-3 more times before they pack it in for the night. It makes me wonder where they go so often. We live 30 miles from the nearest city, so why would a person come and go so often in a town like this?

Anyway, Tom’s still checking out land everywhere except for the eastern part of the country where the humidity levels are higher. We even saw an appealing 8-acre parcel in Oregon. The forest is so thick there that if we have noisy neighbors who are always home, and I know we will, it won’t matter. Wherever we go, I’m sure we won’t be next to the nice quiet older couple that if they do have a dog, it’s inside most of the time, and who doesn’t come and go 5 or more times a day. No, we’ll be next to the home-all-the-time and very rowdy Brady Bunch with their 3 outdoor-only dogs and who knows what in the way of music and vehicle noise/activity.

Now I’m down to 129. I don’t get it. I just don’t get it. It’s so, so easy to go from 132 to 127. As easy as it is for me to gain weight. So why in the world do I just stop losing at 127 no matter what I do? Because something up there wants me to? I’ll be 127 no later than Wednesday.

Still nothing from Ricki. So she either lied about when she shipped the doll or she did ship it on the 20th and just doesn’t want to deal with tracing it. I hope it’s just a case of her bullshitting rather than the package being lost or given to the wrong person.

Still nothing from Paula either. Not even a quick “thanks, I got the stuff.” She’s no doubt busy getting off on getting her ass beat, then running to admire her bruises in the mirror.

Another doom vibe comes true. That back right tire on the car I sensed blowing out blew today, though it was the back left tire. Close enough.

Later…

The renters are back. From the looks of it, they went to get hay for the horse. The next few trips out will probably be for water.

Later…

We ended up doing pretty well after all when it got down to the last few minutes, but that’s not too surprising, I guess. That is when all the action happens. The competition over the hat was fierce. It ended up going to someone in Colorado. The only thing of mine that didn’t sell was the flags. The dolls are going to the same person in the Bay Area, the desk lamp is going to someone in Minnesota, and the disco light is going to someone in Massachusetts of all places, but at least they all live in the US! We’re getting a total of $44 for all this stuff, and except for the disco light that I won with tickets at Game Works, it all only cost us $15 since everything else but Meagan was given to us, which is about what our profit will be after eBay gets their cut and the postage is paid. Still, $15 to pack and ship these unwanted things to others who do want them, versus leaving them here for nothing, is worth it enough to me.

His horseracing game and laptop still have a few days to go, and while the game has no bids, the laptop’s up to $47!

Tonight, on a 7-day listing, we put up 2 decorative plates his mom gave us (I guess next will be the ones I stole) and 3 incense samplers. Each sampler will include an acrylic burner and a 10-pack of 4 different fragrances. We started those at $1.50. One has a blue burner, one has a green one, and one has a brown one.

Anyway, we really didn’t think the dolls were going to sell. It wasn’t till the very last minute that that person bid on them.

Tomorrow should be a fun day for mail. Dalene’s set to arrive, plus the blue Fairytopia Barbie should be at the PO. I don’t know for sure about Barbie, but it’s exciting to know that at around 6 AM, about when I crash, Dalene will be loaded onto a truck bound for Casa Grande where she’ll then be loaded onto the delivery truck! Though she wasn’t a top priority doll-wise, I have wanted her for nearly a year and a half now.

We’re going to wait till we’re moved to order molds.

They seem to boom in spurts where they boom for a few days, then it’s quiet for a few days, and back and forth. Hopefully, I’ll sleep ok till I’m back on days for what I guess will be the last time in this house. Of course, that’s what I thought before, so who knows what other delays may lie ahead? I know we’ll move sometime this year!

I guess tomorrow’s the day my 23 100-packs get shipped out, according to what Bob told me, and I really hope they don’t fuck up and send me 22 packs or 23 packs with one of them being the wrong fragrance!

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 27, 2004 The desk lamp has a bid on it and Tom won $15 on a Slingo, so that’s good, but what’s not good is that Ricki took the rest of the money for Haiku, and I’m like, yo woman, I haven’t received the damn doll! It better get here today like Tom says he’s sure it will. If not, I want the money back. I’m sick of this doll chase!

Houdini must’ve possessed Little Guy last night because he finally broke out. I found him playing in my office. I tanked him overnight, but now he’s back in the wire cage with the plastic roof on to block the widest area which is where I’m pretty sure he got loose. If he gets loose again, though, I’ll just toss him back in the tank till he gets bigger.

Someone emailed Tom last night saying they live in Gilbert, wanting to know if they could pick up the laptop if they win it. Tom told them they could. They’ll probably arrange to meet at Harrah’s if they win.

I could hear someone’s music from the north end of the house, but couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Probably the renters. There was someone home there, though there pretty much always is.

Now that I ate my way back up to 132, I’ll diet back down to 127. See, if I kept eating 2000 calories a day, I’d easily gain 100 pounds in a year!

Later…

Our ghost is getting antsy for us to leave, so not only did the place reek of death, but while I was listening to music, it began playing volume games. My stereo’s volume is set in 2-decibel increments. Well, I suddenly noticed a song got a little softer and saw it had dropped to 24 all by itself from 20. I bumped it back up to 20, and it magically went back down to 24 again. I don’t have to be an electronics expert to know it can’t do that on its own or on account of any mechanical problem.

Amazon Books emailed me saying that 2 of the 3 books I listed didn’t sell, so I threw them in the sell-it-or-leave-it pile we have in the living room.

Not surprisingly, I still haven’t received Haiku. I’m so beyond being fed up with this doll delivery curse that’s been on me ever since I started collecting, and I’m very, very seriously considering hanging it up. Tom says not to worry and that he’ll call Ricki Monday and that we’ll get either the doll or our money back, reminding me that it’s her responsibility to get her here.

I know it is, so then why is it that I’ve been the one having to fight for her for a month now? Why is it always up to me to email or call people to get them to do their damn jobs? I’m so fucking sick of having to correct other people’s mistakes and do their work for them! I wonder if I should even get the mannequin when the time comes. I mean, would they get it to me? I just don’t get why it’s such a big deal for people to put things in the mail and just mail them off!

Ricki took the money for it last night, so somebody fucked up somewhere be it her or UPS. The damn doll could be anywhere, and who knows if it’s traceable? Maybe she had the printing label done up on the 20th but didn’t ship the doll till today. I checked her email, and from what I read, she was talking about sending it on Friday the 20th, not this Friday. And I don’t like how she’s ignoring my email. All I know is that I’m not ordering any more dolls. I’ll get them in person or I won’t get them at all. I don’t want them with the mail games included in the price. Meanwhile, until the delivery curse hits other things, other things are what I’ll get, but not till we’re moved and settled.

The winner of Valentine still hasn’t sent us the cashier’s check for her, so come Monday, assuming nothing arrives tomorrow, Tom’s going to let her know that we’re not going to play mail games with her either and that the doll will go to the runner-up. I didn’t want this one to win in the first place because she had negative feedback. You’re not supposed to bid if you do, but people don’t know how to read. That’s why the camera is on its way to France.

So far we’re not doing so well this time around with our eBay listings. Perhaps that’s why we won the $15.

There is some good news in the midst of these doll headaches and that’s that both my supplies and Dalene are in Phoenix. I didn’t think there’d be a problem with Dalene. She’s plastic, after all. What sucks is that UPS doesn’t do Saturday deliveries, so she’ll have to sit there till Monday. The supplies, on the other hand, should be here tomorrow.

More good news is that the complete second season of Charlie’s Angels (with Cheryl Ladd and not Farrah) is due out in April! I was hoping it would be, and I’m also hoping that eventually, all the episodes with Kate will be out. I’d much rather buy them than play hit or miss with a DVD recorder once we get one. I’m glad I wasn’t Kate’s co-star. What torture it would’ve been if I couldn’t have had her! It’s too bad Jaclyn Smith isn’t my favorite angel. She was the only one who remained on the series throughout its 5-year run. I’d be surprised if they put out any DVDs after Kate left the show and Shelly Hack and Tanya Roberts hit the scene as its ratings plummeted from there. Anyway, this set will make a total of 49 episodes, and I believe she was in about 87, so I’ll be a little over halfway there. I made Tom watch some with me earlier and I told him I’d watch some of his favorites with him if he wants.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 26, 2004 Haiku’s tracking site never updated, yet because they never changed the delivery date listed, I’m still hoping she’ll be here today. Tom said it’d make them look really stupid if there was a delay and they didn’t update the delivery date, but people are too stupid to care just how stupid they look, so I’ll just hope for the best. All I know is that I’m getting really sick and tired of fighting for porcelain dolls. A person shouldn’t have to work to get dolls delivered to their door once they’ve been paid for. This is supposed to be the shipper’s responsibility. I shouldn’t have to call this person and email that person asking where the damn thing is, yet tomorrow, for the last time, I’ll call Ricki if I don’t get her today. If it turns out for some reason that she still has her, I’m going to tell her to keep her and refund my money. I’m not going to fight for a doll I’m not meant to have. I hate to have to deprive myself of any more porcelain dolls, but if Haiku doesn’t arrive today, I’m going to order all vinyls. For some reason, they don’t seem to have a problem getting to me. Not yet anyway. I might do Ashton, but I’ll have to do without Alexa, Sweet 16 Bailey, and dolls like that if there’s always going to be a problem getting them.

Tom says another possibility is that Ricki screwed up the shipping label and so they redid it with a different tracking number, and since you can’t trace packages by name, I can’t know this for sure.

Another thing that’s strange is that Ricki never took the rest of the money for her, but Tom says that may be simply because she’s waiting on delivery confirmation.

This will be it as far as Maricopa purchases go. We may be here another couple of months, but still, we don’t want anything cutting it too close.

There’s this gorgeous 40-acre parcel of land in northern Nevada that’s way remote. It gave me good vibes just from seeing shots of it on the computer screen. It might be good to make myself wrong about the White Mountains and get out of Arizona altogether. In Nevada, we can do internet gambling and I can get fruit trees shipped there if I want them. Plus, they don’t tend to play favoritism when it comes to non-whites, and I doubt they hate Jews and gays as much and have such ridiculous laws.

The good thing is that Bob sent me a tracking number and when I traced my package, I found that FedEx does Saturday deliveries, unlike UPS. They’re cheaper too, so as long as they can find us without always having to be led in by the hand, I just may like them better. Their tracking site is easier to navigate as well.

Last night Tom listed an old laptop and a horseracing game. The computer’s already up to $16 and he hopes to get a lot more than that come Sunday. Of my stuff, the hat’s got a bid on it.

I totally love my new Little Guy. Usually, it takes days to really bond with a new pet, yet if anything happened to him right now I’m sure I’d go to tears. He likes us better than the other rats, though today I saw him playing with one of them for the first time. I think he’ll like being in a huge wire cage with roommates better than being all alone in a small glass tank. Besides, he eats well here. I’m sure the store doesn’t give him the variety of food he gets here.

Although Little Fella’s still hanging in there, I don’t think I can keep him going much longer. He’s just too old. I’d be awfully surprised if he made it out of here with us.

We have this game we play where I walk up to the cage and he jumps up to the roof for me to open it and take him out. I think he’d literally jump up into my arms if he could! He loves to be held. Most rats tend to be fidgety in a person’s arms, even if they feel comfortable with them because they’re such animated creatures. This one’s got just as much spunk as any other young rat, yet he often parks himself either on my shoulder or under my ponytail at the nape of my neck and just sits there for a while.

Later…

Sure enough, Haiku never came, so I went and emailed Ricki and once again we’re playing the where-is-it? game. I’ve already deleted the names of other dolls from my list that I was going to get from her once we got moved and settled. They’re just not worth fighting for. Meanwhile, I hope I get the $27 she already took for it if no one’s going to deliver it to me.

I also think it was dumb of me to order from them just because they’re cheap. Discount prices usually mean discount service.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 25, 2004 Tom’s painting right now so I thought I’d write.

Little Guy is such a sweetie. He sure is quick and nimble, too. He’s very calm, yet full of spunk. He loves to be handled and he jumps up at me when I walk by the cage.

I sculpted a mini stick burner last night, then colored it with permanent markers that won’t wash off. It’s the best burner yet if I do say so myself. The problem with most ash catchers is that they don’t have a dip in the center that’s long enough to catch all the ashes, so the ashes from the top of the stick tend to roll off. I also made the part that curves upward where you insert the stick stand up straighter so that the stick sticks pretty much straight out and closer to where the ashes fall. That way they won’t bounce off the edges. It’s a very sturdy and sure ash catcher.

I hope that the fact that I haven’t gotten a shipment notice from Bob doesn’t mean that the first order hasn’t been shipped yet. They’ve never taken longer than two weeks before, so maybe, just maybe, it’ll get delivered today. I don’t sense it, though.

Dalene went from Palatine, IL to Hodgkins, IL, then she departed from there at 7:00 this morning.

We all struggle in life and I know there’s no way around it, but God needs to ease up on us. He really does. Our struggles have been way too extreme. I mean, how often do people get thrown in jail for something they shouldn’t be thrown in jail for? And how often do people lose their house? I could keep going back in time and adding more extremities to the list, but I won’t. I just wish God would give us a break and give us more ordinary struggles to deal with. I’m also sick of the one thing after another bullshit. I wasn’t even done with the freeloaders and off probation much more than a month before Tom got shit on and fired. And this transition is taking forever! We know we lost the house, we’ve known it for months now (especially me), so it’s like, can we just quit with the delays and get on with it already? It’s like, just let us get moved even if it’s to a dump of a house or even an RV! I just want to get moved and stay there for at least 15 years if not forever. And I’d like a few months in between problems, too. Problems that are a little less off the wall.

Anyway, I still sense we’re going to the White Mountains and I still sense the $135,000, but I’m no longer sure of April with the way we had to stop and play form. A delay like this could bump it up a month or even two, but I guess I still sense we’ll be out of here in April. It just might be late April.

Later…

No wonder I didn’t sense a delivery today. Bob emailed me just now saying it’s going out today.

Anyway, I did some Barbie research and found that even the people selling the blue fairy on eBay say it’s very hard to find, so I ordered one for $16.99 + free shipping from New Jersey. Why that one’s so obsolete beats me, but it doesn’t seem that Walmart or K-Mart are going to carry it anytime soon.

Counting all the Barbies I’ve kept, along with friends of hers, I’ll have a total of 29 once the blue fairy arrives.

Still no update on Haiku, yet it still says she’s on for tomorrow’s delivery. Tom said he once tracked a package that didn’t update until the evening before the day it arrived. I’m going to be getting rather worried if there’s no update this evening. Why is it always the porcelain dolls that are so hard to get? I don’t have nearly the trouble I have with them when it comes to getting vinyl dolls.

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 24, 2004 We listed more items a little while ago, but by the time we got done with the 6 items I wanted to list, he was too tired to list his things, so he’ll list them Thursday and do 3-day listings. My stuff will end on Sunday evening just like last time. I’ve got the Autumn and Meagan dolls listed, 2 flags, a desk lamp, the revolving party light, and a sequined baseball cap. Tom had to edit it because he wrote sequenced instead of sequined.

I woke up miserably tired yesterday so I decided again to say to hell with my schedule for now while there’s nothing much going on. If I’m on nights when the house is on the market; they call before stopping by, so he can get me up when we get called. Last night I slept the 12 hours I knew I needed to sleep and didn’t get up till just before noon.

Although yesterday started off with me being tired, it was still a good day. We mailed Alex and Eve off to New York first. I believe they’re going to a store owner who’s going to resell them. Today Tom mailed the camera to France, and we haven’t yet received the cashier’s check from Michigan, so Valentine hasn’t been shipped yet. I think she’ll be going to a collector.

We zipped over to Casa Grande from the PO and checked out a few craft shops, but they didn’t have what I wanted, so we went to both Walmart and K-Mart. Walmart had a few figurines to paint, but I wasn’t impressed with them, so I got glitter paint and sculpting clay instead.

At K-Mart, I got the pregnant Midge doll who wears heels so high that I’m sure no pregnant woman would ever wear. Not that high anyway. You probably wouldn’t have your hair so long if you were pregnant either, and of course, her stomach gets perfectly flat when you remove the “womb” which isn’t very realistic. After childbirth, you have too much stretched-out flesh to get your stomach all that flat. Even I know that without ever having a kid, though a few women come close every now and then. Still, it’s a cute doll and adds variety to my collection. I even decided that since I’m getting to be more and more of a Barbie collector, I’d make a chart like my porcelain and fashion doll chart, and so I did. It took quite a while to create as I had to sift through journals to find out when I got who.

Because of all the controversy over the pregnant Midge doll, she’s starting to be pulled off the shelves. Tom said he heard the controversy was over people not wanting anything sexual related to a child’s toy which makes no sense. If this is really the case, then no dolls of any kind should exist as we all got here by sex. I heard it was over sending a message saying that family is the only suitable lifestyle. Either way, it’s true that they preach certain lifestyles too much, suggesting other ones aren’t good. It’s okay to have family this and career that but what about being single? How about being gay? And why not be single with kids? I think it’s horrible how in today’s world a pregnant woman is as scoffed at as a working woman of the 60s was. Everyone’s an individual, and as long as they’re not harming others they should be able to live their lives as they see fit and everyone else should stay out of it and mind their own damn business.

Our last stop was at Pick-A-Pet. We wanted to get a younger rat for Baldilocks to play with and so we did. He’s a cutie. I liked him right away and he seemed to do the same with me. He’s of a solid color which isn’t quite white nor is it tan. It’s like a soft cream color. Since we’ve had Little Buddy and Little Fella, I’m calling this one Little Guy. They had him alone in the store for a couple of weeks to be segregated from the rowdier rats. When the girl there picked him up, he seemed eager to be handled and didn’t run and cower in the corner of his small glass cage (we could tell he’d never climbed a wire cage before when we got him home).

The girl there also told us of these people who not only let their rats run around loose, but they sleep with them, too! I don’t see how even the heaviest of sleepers could do that. If they sleep at night, that’s when the rats are most active.

Once we got him home he was a little intimidated by the others but is getting used to them. He’s capable of escaping if he really wants to, but he hasn’t. However, he sure does love to explore when I let them out. Tom and I play with them together at times and I was amazed at how far he ventured away from home. Normally they start out little by little, getting further away with time. Unlike his roommates, he just may end up crossing the kitchen.

Anyway, it had stormed before we left. Then, right after we got back in it poured like hell, partially filling the washes.

I surprised myself by sculpting a rat and in no time at all, too! Then I baked him up firm and painted him with the 6 different colors I got of the glitter paint. Not a bad first try. I always had the feeling I could sculpt, though I don’t expect to take it that seriously and be sculpting dolls. I don’t care to do it bad enough to get that good. I’d rather concentrate on other things like painting/selling figurines. Since we can’t find a good selection in person, we’ll probably order concrete/cement/plaster molds from an eBay store with the sale money from this latest listing. There are some flowers, mermaids, angels, rabbits and Indians I like.

Haiku’s tracking never updated, but neither did her delivery date, so I’m going to assume she’s somewhere in Texas right now, will hit Phoenix tomorrow, then here the next day. Can’t wait!

Meanwhile, Dalene’s getting ready to leave Illinois and will be here Monday, March 1st!

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 22, 2004 Yesterday was a lot of fun! Yes, life really does improve with age. We talked, laughed and joked along the way about all kinds of things. Despite Tom’s faults, and we all have them, there’s definitely no one else like him in the world. Guess I wouldn’t be coming up on a decade of marriage if there was.

We were talking about what we’d do if we were suddenly the only people in the world. I’d want to live on the beach in California. We’d both want to raid the stores worse than the blacks did when they had to carry on like spoiled little children over the Rodney King verdict (though I always agreed those white pigs were guilty). Tom pointed out that it’d be hard not to be tempted to do things that were dangerous, like flying big jets. That would be tempting, alright.

Anyway, we headed out at 9:30 in search of yard sales. As I told Tom would be the case, there were very few because we were looking for them. It’s when you’re not looking that you find these things. We did make several stops, though, and we got a lot for our money. There were only two yard sales. The first stop was at a church rummage sale. I was kind of glad not to find anything there of interest as I didn’t exactly like the idea of our money going to a church.

We drove through the area closer to the mountain that’s gorgeous with tons of saguaros and that was also too expensive for us. I was bummed to have gotten such dull land, but now I’m glad we did or else that’d be two things that’d be hard to give up. Giving up the house will be hard enough.

Once we felt we’d gone far enough and decided to turn back, we passed a scummy-looking cock trying to hitch a ride. I told Tom he should’ve teased the sucker and turned around right after we passed him, making him think we were stopping to pick him up. He laughed at that one.

Then we were nearly run off the road by some cock who passed us on a single-lane road. Right as we turned onto a double-lane road and I told Tom to run and jump on top of him and tailgate the sucker and that there were no pigs around, one passed us heading the opposite way. Fortunately, though, the pig didn’t stop and turn around to chase us because we were 6-7 miles overboard. Meanwhile, Tom scared the cock off, cuz pig around or not, he went flying down the road like the devil was chasing him. It was pretty funny.

We discussed the possibility of having a street name at the new place, and Tom said that although he thinks we will, maybe we’ll get to name it. That’s when I said, “How about Don’t Fuck with Me Lane?”

He said, “That’s something you’d name it, alright. I like Incense Lane.”

I said, “Yeah, or Angel Lane since Angel is my favorite fragrance and a nice name as well.”

After we stopped at the Stanfield Circle K, we zipped across the street to another yard sale, but found nothing there, either. They just had one Barbie in which one of the women there was bragging about it being from the 60s which was precisely why I didn’t want it. I’m a modern doll collector.

The next stop was at a gift shop in Casa Grande. They had a lot of cute knickknacks, but nothing that really jumped out at me, so then we went to Eckard’s drugstore where I found an adorable figurine. Actually, it’s pretty big compared to most, so I’d say it’s more like a statuette. It was unfinished with just a coat of flesh tone as it was meant to be an outdoor decoration. It’s a little girl with ponytails kneeling on the ground, legs tucked under her, holding a bubble. The plastic bubble really looks just like a bubble, too. There’s a wicker basket by her side, too. I knew right away I didn’t want to throw her outside with the dogs and for the birds to poop on her, so I picked up kid’s washable paints at K-Mart and a set of brushes. I named her Katrina after a character in my current best seller, so to speak. I painted her hair yellow-blond, the bows in her hair purple, and her dress pink with blue and green accents. I did her nails in pink and her eyes blue. Doing the eyes and eyelashes was the hardest. I did orange dots for earrings and made the basket blue with orange around the top. The basket would be good for flowers, coins and other little things. Right now I have a few packs of gum in it. She’s on brown dirt with clumps of green grass. I wish the brown was lighter, but the paint kit came with all darker browns. She was definitely worth the $13, plus the few bucks the paints and brushes cost. She’s a good size and would be 16” high if she could stand.

This brought us to another possible selling idea. Since it’s only $10 a month to open an eBay store, we might add painted figurines that I paint to sell along with the incense. It’s fun to do, and tomorrow we’re going to check out some craft stores in Casa Grande. Maybe we’ll get some molds.

Because of the new Walmart, K-Mart was near dead. We had to wait forever at the register, though. The only other things I got there were a set of 7 scented shower gels and a silver glitter barrette to replace the purple glitter barrette I just lost that I’d had for a million years. Must’ve had it since I was somewhere between 15-20.

The only other stop we made was at a dollar store. I don’t know why they say they’re a dollar store when half the things in it are more than a dollar. For $2, I got a thick bushel of long brown hair attached to a hair clip. This way if I want to go long without having the hassles of having to wash and brush it till my own hair gets long again, I can use this. It’s similar to the one I had back east that was on a banana clip. A few more gray hairs, though, and it won’t look right.

Yesterday was Lin S’ birthday yet Memolink didn’t give her the 50 points they gave Jodi, so they must either know who Lin S really is or quit giving out birthday points.

I ordered 23 100-packs a little while ago. I’ll be looking forward to that, along with the dolls and supplies.

Today we’re doing the usual Sunday things – laundry, trash burning, and Tom’s edging in the bathroom. I draped an old sheet over the rat’s cage just in case it was the paint fumes that made LF ill.

Later…

The 4 items we sold tonight did pretty well. I paid a total of $80 for the 3 dolls I sold and made back a little more than half of that, not counting shipping. Alex and Eve sold to the same person in New York for $14.55 and $21.50, Valentine sold to someone in Michigan for $5.50, and his camera sold to some idiot in France for $8. He’ll have to let the stupid shit know that we specifically said we’d only ship within the US and that if they really want the damn thing, they’ll have to foot the postage.

He got an email while he was out burning from someone in Australia asking if they could bid on one of the dolls, but by the time he got around to checking his mail, the auction had ended.

He says he’s willing to be flexible if they’ll pay the postage, but I’m like, as flexible as France? I don’t know if that’s worth the time and trouble.

Next week I’ll be listing 12” Autumn and 16” Meagan, but not 22” Amelia. She’d be too much shipping, so I’ll either yard sale her or keep her. Whatever’s meant to be. I’m also going to list those 2 lamps and 2 flags. He’ll have half a dozen things to list, too. Oh, and we’re going to relist 5 of the 6 plates as well. We want to research one of them further as it could be worth a lot of money.

Anyway, for the first time in ages, I feel like I’m working at something I enjoy, and for once, for once, I’m getting paid for my work, so that’s nice. Doing things for nothing is okay every so often, but when that becomes all you do for so many years, you start wishing you could get a little something for all your time and effort.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 20, 2004 That’s 3 days in a row they boomed by, so I’m glad I decided to stay on days. I let myself sleep in till 9:00 yesterday to get the 10 hours of sleep I knew I needed. Today, though, I got up at 8:00 and tomorrow I’ll get up at 7:00. That’ll give me a couple of hours to wake up before we go scout out the local yard sales to see if we can find anything good to sell on eBay. I can’t wait! I’m totally looking forward to it. Maybe I’ll find something good for me, too. This selling frenzy we’ve been on is fun!

When I got up this morning I was afraid I’d get no email pertaining to Haiku and an email saying that Dalene, who we finally got around to ordering last night, was out of stock. However, there’s a pending transaction to take the money for Dalene, and UPS sent me the tracking number for Haiku! Finally, she’s on her way! She and Dalene are both coming via UPS and may arrive on the same day.

Alex has 5 bids and is up to $8, Eve has 5 bids and is up to $10.06, and Valentine has 4 bids and is up to $5.50.

I got a letter from Mary. She’s been doing well. She mentioned the doll pictures I sent, but not my stories. I hope she got them and just forgot to mention it.

She said she hasn’t felt like working on the book, though she did enclose a letter for Maria for me to translate which I had fun doing.

Another month and she’ll have been there a whole year. By now she must’ve had to put up with a million cell changes and other changes as well as new rules. Nothing ever seems to stay the same for long in jail, prison or on probation.

It’s still looking like we’ll end up in the White Mountain area and we’ll probably leave here in an RV or trailer of some kind and then buy the land, rather than buy it first. We want to scout it out and for me to use my vibes to focus in on if there’s any evil lurking about a particular piece of land or not.

Her cousins are sending her money which is good, since she’s so disgusted with Carolyn, not that I can blame her. If I’ve said it once, I’ll say it a thousand times – the best thing she could do would be to walk away from her family forever. Maybe even Adam if he’s still associating with her mom as he may try to pressure her into contacting her. Sometimes we really gotta wipe the slate clean like that, but most importantly, she’d be ridding herself of people who have used and abused her in just about every way possible. No one can make her walk away from her family, particularly her mother, Carolyn, Rick and Derek, but I can’t stress enough just how much better off I think she’d be. Take it from someone who put up with 31 years of abuse from her parents, aunts, uncles, brother and sister, I told her, then finally mustered up the courage and self-respect it took to pull back and see them for the people they really truly are. Once she does that and once she asks herself if they’re her type, she can be rid of them and move on. I understand she’s young and it’s a difficult thing to do at her age. When people told me I shouldn’t have anything to do with people like my family who could do the things they’ve done to me when I was younger, I just couldn’t imagine having the strength to let go. After all, our family is all we’ve known and so it’s not an easy thing to do when we’re young. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if she did end up cutting them off in the future and wished she’d done so years ago. It takes guts, and the more she sees her family for what they are, and the more she grows and gets stronger, the easier it will be to let go of the bad and move on to the good. I told her not to let anyone try to tell her that dumping her family is cold. They wouldn’t be so quick to say that if it was a lover that was abusive, would they? People put too much stock in biology, but as far as I’m concerned, biology is no excuse for even a fraction of the things her family’s done to her, nor what mine have done to me.

I don’t understand why her case is taking so long. Why don’t they just get the trial over, give Monster his sentence, give her hers, then move on? I mean, what’s the big deal? Why the multi-year holdup? Those snipers who shot up a zillion people a year or two ago are already tried/convicted.

Come to think of it, I wonder if the February “win” vibes were really all about the swap meet and eBay, and perhaps I just assumed they were about tickets cuz I didn’t know we’d be doing that for sure this month.

Anyway, we don’t know yet how we’re going, where we’re going, and what we’re going to live in till the house is built. We may live in an old single-wide or an RV. We may sell the car and go up in either a U-Haul or a trailer that we’ll pull the truck with, or get rid of so much stuff that we can fit it all in just the car and truck, though I doubt that one.

I wonder if people let their dogs run loose in the White Mountains as well. It wouldn’t surprise me if they did. It just doesn’t seem customary for Arizonans to take their dogs indoors unless they’re Miss Perfect.

I just made myself up a bundle of butter rum incense. It felt so good to be able to do that too, and just make my own!

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 2004 No Mary mail today. I’m still waiting to hear her review of my books, but she doesn’t usually write unless she has drafts to enclose, which means she probably hasn’t been in the mood to do drafts. I know now that her aunt does have my number, so if something were wrong, really wrong, I’d get a call. Or, as I should put it, a message, since I don’t usually answer my phone. I don’t always hear it ringing either, depending on where I am and what I’m doing.

In the midst of the happy, productive feeling I’ve had what with working and getting paid for my work, there is some sorrow mixed in, for my Little Fella’s dying. Since he doesn’t appear to be suffering, I’m trying to put spells on him to prolong his life for as long as possible. If he were suffering, I wouldn’t do it. That’d be selfish and cruel.

Tom listed an old camera he has from the late 30s and I listed Valentine. Later he’ll go through the sheds to see what old junk he has in there he can sell.

I told him getting tickets is a waste of time because of all the selling we’ve been doing. Because of that, we’re going to be compensated with losing tickets, I told him, but he’s been getting them anyway cuz it’s fun for him.

I told him to beware of a tire blowing on one of the vehicles. Sure enough, he said one on the car started leaking.

Later…

Little Fella’s still hanging in there, and the spell I put on Tom to protect him from spiders and scorpions so he could safely rummage through the sheds seemed to work well. He always runs into them in the sheds.

I’ve been having a blast running around the house looking for things to sell while we’re on this successful selling streak. All things we don’t want, naturally. When the shipment of supplies arrives, we’ll probably put together a variety pack of sorts, both with and without burners, to sell on eBay, too. They sell tons of incense on eBay, though, so I don’t know for sure if we’ll do this. It seems you can sell just about anything on eBay.

Since Valentine also got a bid, I think maybe next Tuesday I’ll list Amelia, Autumn and Meagan. Tuesdays are good for beginning 5-day listings. As we’ve learned, prime time on eBay is in the evenings, especially on weekends so we want our auctions to end then. I’ll also try selling the two remaining flags I have, a cap decorated with sequins, the crystal lamp and the revolving disco light.

I don’t know if it means anything, but it hit me that we may not be punished for moving in the way we were for moving here because of how we’re being forced out. We were forced out of Phoenix too, but not in the way we’re being forced out of here. Where we end up, though, could be a punishment in itself, so we’ll just have to wait and see. All I know is that something wanted Tom out of the bank and us out of this house. Somewhere within the next 45-90 days, we should know why.

Later…

Oh no, I won’t be letting my schedule go. Not with the thunderous booms I just heard. I hate feeling controlled like this! Sleep is one department I haven’t been able to lift the curse from, but because I don’t have to get up 5 days a week in order to make a living, I doubt I ever will. I figured it was something up there’s way of compensating me with the fact that I don’t have to work. Still, I wish people would leave my fucking sleep alone. If it isn’t neighbors waking me up, it’s something else.

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 2004 It seems we’ve traded in booms for shots. Yeah, they’re shooting up a storm out there. I don’t know why, but they’re shooting every day from sunrise to sunset like last year.

He started my Imprisoned Love story yesterday and said he didn’t like the start of it, saying it seemed too busy and almost like I was in a hurry to get through it. Yeah, there’s a lot of action crammed into not so many pages.

Meanwhile, the story I’m working on now may end up taking forever. Especially if I’m unable to work on it for a while.

I’m surprised and pleased to report that both dolls have bids on them. Eve’s had 27 views and Alex has had 24. Maybe the sell curse is off! With their sale money, I’ll probably buy some more dipped 100-packs. It’d take 23 scents to cover the $50 minimum, so I think I’ll get baby powder, black Henry, black magic, black narcissus, booty call, butt naked, bump & grind, cedar, fast cash, hot love, jasmine, magnolia, majmua, morning mist, patchouli, puddy cat, strawberry musk, strawberry vanilla, sun moon stars, sweet musk, vanilla melon, white diamonds & white linen.

We’ve been discussing the various alternatives as far as what to do until we’re in the house. We may even rent an RV instead of getting a cheap old single-wide. That way we won’t have to play hotel while we’re waiting for the dump to be set up. The septic in particular can cause enough of a delay. Or maybe we’ll rent a drivable moving van. For just a little over $200, we found that we could get a drivable van that’ll hold furniture from a 4-bedroom house, and use it to pull the truck. We’d then sell the car and the old green truck.

However we’re going, wherever we’re going, I just want to get it over with!

We agree that it’d be best to build the house in modules. Why wait till it’s all complete when we can start with a bedroom and a bathroom and use it right away?

I hope Haiku gets shipped out this week without any more delays! I think that if there are any more problems I’m going to tell her to forget it and to refund the part of the money she’s already taken.

Later…

We’re really turning the tables as far as our luck and old curses go! Not only was I astonished to get a check from Netflip for the $23.90 they owed me, but also, Eve’s now up to $10.06. Still down to $1.25 on Alex, but she’s black, so that’s probably why.

Tonight I plan to list the 14” Valentine fairy on a 5-day listing, starting at a buck. Porcelains aren’t in demand like vinyl is, so I don’t know if she’ll sell. If she doesn’t, I’ll try to sell her at the tag sale. If that doesn’t work, then I guess she was meant to stay with me as I won’t be leaving her behind in the house.

He worked on the bathroom while I worked on the retreat earlier. I got almost half of it done.

Calling a realtor tomorrow as we planned is going to be delayed a week or two. Tom sent the bank a letter a week ago telling them that we plan to sell. He then planned to give it till today to see if he heard back from them about it, saying he had to go through certain procedures. Sure enough, there’s this form they want him to fill out before it can be listed. In the meantime, I’ll probably let my schedule go for a while.

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 2004 Today we’re painting and getting the house presentable for the realtor who he’s going to call in two days. I’m not just worried that the realtor and or potential buyers will try to fuck us over because there are evil, greedy people everywhere and because we’re cursed with that, but I worry about Tom’s Mr. Nice Guy appearance/attitude. I really believe that’s part of why so many people have taken advantage of him. He doesn’t need to be a monster, but if I were seeking someone to screw over, just a few minutes of talking with him and I’d get the impression big time that I could walk all over him and that he wouldn’t fight back. So hopefully he won’t come off as too nice this time around. Better to be a bitch and scare people off than to be so nice that you end up being a magnet for trouble.

The 16” vinyl Alex and Eve dolls were listed last night at a buck with no reserve. Tom thinks they’ll sell, but I have my doubts. Anyway, we’ll find out next Sunday. They’ve had 10 views so far.

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2004 Oh, those damn freeloaders and the headaches they put us through! And damn the colorblind idiots who call this paint soft pink when it’s really a cross between off-white and light peach. It’s a lovely color - don’t get me wrong - it’s just that it’s going to take two coats to cover the blue tulip design in the bathroom, and that room’s no doubt going to be hard enough on Tom with all he has to paint around. He even has to paint around the mirror because the damn thing’s glued on because they couldn’t line the screws up with the studs. He says it’ll be easy enough to scrape off any paint he gets on it, though, once it’s dry.

I’m going to be doing most of the retreat myself, but now that we know the pink doesn’t cover well because of how light it is, it’ll be done in blue.

Wednesday’s the day he decided to call the realtor. Tomorrow, President’s Day, I’ll do a basic cleaning to have it presentable for showing. I’ll keep it clean enough on the surface till it’s sold, then I won’t worry about it afterward. If I could survive all the cleaning I had to do when we moved in here, I’m sure the newcomers can handle putting forth a little elbow grease of their own. It’s not like it’ll be trashed, though. Actually, it’ll be cleaner than most people would leave it. I can just imagine the condition someone like Miss Perfect would leave her house in if she sold it, not that she ever would.

I’m sunburned and drained today, but won’t let myself take a nap as that’d foul up my schedule. It’s now at the point where I’ll need to be on a schedule till we’re settled in Dan’s dive. Tom thinks that’ll be 8 weeks from now, but I know that things usually take longer than expected, so I’m considering it to be 12-16.

I’m going to try to muster up the energy to work on my story since I may have to be without my computer for a couple of months or more. Hand-writing journals is one thing, but hand-writing stories is the worst way to go, I think, because of all the changes you make along the way. Therefore, I’d recommend those with computers who like to write stories use that. Even a typewriter hardly seems suitable to me. I was shocked when Mary told me that Stephen King supposedly hand-writes his stories before he types them up. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to do that.

I’m not going to worry about my weight till we’re settled in the new place. Then I’ll decide whether or not to try to maintain it or allow myself to gain whatever, since losing isn’t really an option. When we were at the swap meet I looked around at all the people and thought, no wonder they say the average American is overweight. Very few were thin, and of course, most who were thin were mostly under 30.

We opted not to return to the swap meet today because of our sunburns and because we figured the same people would be there since it’s such a small town.

Tom thinks the buyers will want a home inspection done here as well, and I was like, on a 4-year-old house? But he says it’s not just to see that the house is structurally sound, but to get a warranty, and that basically everyone has it done.

I wasn’t going to do this, figuring that it’s not the buyer’s fault that someone had to fuck us over and cause us to lose the house, even if we are ready to go, but they’re still invaders as far as I’m concerned, that’ll be living in my house. Therefore a curse is in order. I shall hex the people’s lives who move in here. Again, I know it’s not their fault, but hey, lots of things happen to us that we didn’t ask for. I shall damn them with illness, depression, and financial woes.

I asked Tom and he assured me we can’t lose the house once it’s built because we’ll own it outright. Therefore, no one could possibly have a hold on it in any way or start a chain reaction that ultimately causes us to end up losing it. This was comforting to know because if there’s one thing in life I’ve learned it’s that if there’s a way for people to control your fate, they will. They may not always have those exact intentions and they may be affecting it in an indirect kind of way, but still, if they can seal your fate in the slightest of ways, they will. This doesn’t mean we’re totally exempt from someone burning it down, but I think that’s a lot less unlikely as opposed to other events that could cause us to lose it.

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 14, 2004 After 5 hours at the swap meet, we did astonishingly well. We made $185! Just the old Nintendo alone was $40 and we sold half of the CDs so that was like $75 more right there. One guy, like me, was a huge Linda Ronstadt fan and bought 8 CDs, all of her. One woman bought about 25 CDs. Her daughter kept saying, “Ok, that’s enough, that’s enough,” and I was like – will you shut up!

They surprised us with what they bought and didn’t buy. We didn’t expect things like the Barbies, CD cleaner, kites, and thermal cups to sell. We were surprised the lamps didn’t go, along with the boom box. Tom was right in predicting that the old sewing machine would sell, though, and that the two porcelain dolls wouldn’t.

Half the people spoke Spanish and there were these guys who knew no English that asked me if the old TV was cable-ready. When I told them it wasn’t, they were no longer interested, making me wonder if perhaps I should’ve played dumb to their Spanish. Tom says they wouldn’t have gotten it anyway.

Most people’s merchandise, from what I could see, was clothes and jewelry. I got a beautiful bracelet for $2 from the same lady I bought the wind chimes from. It has a cluster of pink glass stones in the center of it and clear glass stones on the side. It’d make a good doll choker as well.

I also got a gorgeous shiny shirt that has these sequin-like things on it for $5, but I’m going to either put it on the mannequin whenever I get around to getting one which should be this year or use it to make clothes for the fashion dolls. Maybe I’ll send it to Ricki to make a dress for that Chari doll. Then again, I doubt I’ll do that as I don’t know if there’d be enough material to make something for 23” Chari.

We sold all but one of the 5 quilts we had, a hand vacuum, one of the coffeemakers, coffee filters, a mirror, a stuffed rabbit, a jewelry box, some duffel bags, some knickknacks, the little palm plant, plus a purple and yellow flower arrangement, and what else? I wish I’d taken notes on what we sold, as well as bags for people to put stuff in so we wouldn’t have to give up one of the boxes that would’ve been good for moving.

They came at us the instant we got there, barely giving us time to set up. I had to keep my eye on the table while he kept his eye on the truck, which became a table as well since we ran out of room on the 3 tables we took.

A few women bought quite a bit, but they became obnoxious after a while because they were distracting and getting in the way of other customers.

All the old plates sold, and I think a couple of glasses did, too. I was surprised the really nice cut glasses didn’t sell. We did sell candle holders, candy dishes and little things like that. The most shocking thing to sell was Giselle’s head. Another vendor bought it and put it on his display table. Same with a small clock he got from the bank. The guy next to us got it, but it never sold and he packed it in right before we did. I was surprised none of the cat and dog mugs sold, but they did get some pots, all 3 drawing books, the English/Spanish dictionary, a purple puff scrubber with a handle on it, an old cactus pitcher, and some old silverware. They also got the 3-tier candle that gave off soot. Only one bag of incense sold and that was the brown sugar. I agree with Tom that we probably would’ve sold more had we had burners and maybe even one burning.

One of the women was telling another woman, “Hey, I saw your son in court the other day.” My first thought was that she worked for the courts, but nope. She got in trouble herself for writing bad checks.

The kids didn’t get too obnoxious, though there were a couple of kids running around screaming for a while next to us.

The weather was perfect. A little chilly to start with, but the winds were calm. We both got sunburns on our faces. We forgot to put sunscreen on before we left.

It only costs $2 to set up. The swap meet is held in a huge lot by a convenience store with a fast-food restaurant next to it. I used their bathroom once and got us some soda and munchies.

I had to stop saying things were a “quarter” when someone would pick up a 25¢ item, and tell them it was “25¢” instead because they couldn’t understand my Eastern accent.

Some people had some weird stuff there, like an old parking meter. And I thought a mannequin for decoration was rather eccentric!

With the money from our surprisingly wonderful sales, I’m getting Dalene (finally) and he’s getting a jewelry-making kit. We have tons of pieces of turquoise that his mom gave us years ago. We just might be able to generate a few grand from that alone. Besides, jewelry might be a good thing to sell anyway simply because everybody loves and wants it.

I won’t be as hard-pressed for a home business once we get out of the huge house payments, but it’d still be nice so that Tom could work for us and not for someone else, and not have to worry about write-ups, firings or layoffs.

Anyway, we’re both very happy that we did so well.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2004 I forgot to mention that the other day I received mail inviting me to a convention in Washington DC to receive a silver bowl with my name on it for outstanding amateur photography of 2004. However, even if we had the money to make the trip, Washington DC is not an appealing place to go and I don’t need a bowl. We were laughing at how they said they’d want me to give a speech on how I came to take the picture. I can just imagine that! I’d be like, “Well, I complained against the people with the wrong connections that were the wrong color which ultimately led to me being framed and thrown in jail. Then, when I got out of jail, part of the probation required community service, which was in my case, scrubbing labels off of old wine bottles, so that’s how Little Buddy came to be Hiding Amongst the Bottles.”

Little Fella’s been pretty funny ever since I moved his cage to the opposite wall so it’d be out of the way of the area we painted. After he was out running around for a while he’d run to the corner his cage has always been in looking for his house. Today he searched and searched, then decided to just plop himself down in the corner anyway. We dragged the cage back over, and sure enough, he hopped right on in it.

I’ve been calling the other one Baldilocks. His poodle-like fur is really thin.

We’re done painting in the living room and in my office. We decided not to add clouds to the office wall because it really doesn’t look all that great. I think this sponge would be better for making colorful splotches, but I’m not going to work that hard and spend that much money so someone else can live with it.

The window’s also been replaced, so that leaves just the bathroom and retreat to paint, plus tidying up outside a bit more. We’ll probably also take the wet vac and vacuum the sand out of the toilet tanks.

I was right and Tom was wrong. Coming to the end of week two, it’s still obvious I’m not going under 127. However, with my amount of muscle, age and height, 127 is an ok weight. I’m going to stick to the hourly workouts, but I’m going to bump my calories up to 1500 a day.

I’m afraid my February ticket vibes were nothing but false vibes. Especially since one of the Circle K stores isn’t selling Slingo tickets anymore.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 12, 2004 If I wasn’t convinced before that there’s a doll curse on me and that something likes to tease me with getting dolls, then I’d certainly be by now! I mean, I don’t fucking believe this shit! Now Ricki, who says she needs to kick herself in the rear, is saying the damn doll won’t be shipped till next Friday because she broke a hand and had to replace it. Why can’t I ever just order a doll and get it???

My first thought was that I wouldn’t get any more dolls from her, but no matter where I go, there’ll always be problems so I may as well get them from the cheapest place as long as they do a good job.

I got back in with Memolink as Lin S, but Tom still doesn’t think I’ll get anything from them. He’s now convinced they’re scammers. He thinks that site was deliberately rigged not to go away so they could use those who wracked points up as an excuse to get rid of them so that they’d have fewer people to give prizes to. We’ll find out sooner or later. They probably are scammers because as it is, I know I’ll never get the $15 certificate I ordered before they canned me, though I’ll still play along for now. Another reason why I won’t get it is this thing that doesn’t want me making money.

Speaking of money, I had a vibe saying we’d sell $67 worth of stuff on Saturday, but I don’t know. I don’t even know if I trust the vibes I had about winning on Slingo tickets this month.

A guy in Rhode Island won his mixed coins for $31, and soon we’ll be listing other things.

We ordered supplies today and this time we’re having them come via FedEx. I hope there are no delays or fuck-ups, I really do! We got $80 worth of stuff. Everything from 11” sticks, mini sticks, acrylic burners and wire pop-up burners, oils, big bags, small bags, and dipped angels.

We got the blue part of the mural wall done and most of the blue on the office wall. We still have to fill it in, add clouds to both walls, then tackle the bathroom and retreat.

Tom’s hoping a developer will buy this land because then it might be easier to let them deduct a couple of thousand dollars from the price so we can stay a couple more months and not be so pressured to find new land so fast. Land-splitting is a popular trend, so that’d be nice. Plus, I still worry the renters and the dogs and trash that they can’t get a lid on will deter potential couples and or families from wanting to live here.

I just hope there are no evil spirits awaiting me at the new place! No punishments or compensations. I’ll be damned if I’ll go to jail again for getting something I really want. I really believe that that was part of why God let them frame me; because I left the city. That and my fighting back against the blacks and Mexicans. Or trying to anyway.

Tom brought up a good question pertaining to the spirit that dwells here, and that’s how far does its territory extend? Is it possible that we would never have encountered it if we’d set the house on the other side of the wash, for example? Am I its only target? Or will it be a nuisance for anyone who lives here? Will it follow me if it is primarily after me?

Nonetheless, Tom thinks I’ll be happier in a different climate where I can be outdoors more often. I’m not indoors so much here solely because of the heat we have for most of the year but because of all the dogs running loose as well.

Paula’s last package went out yesterday. I realize it isn’t just a matter of whether or not I could ask her for a little money if we needed it that bothers me, but the fact that she didn’t take the initiative on her own to send any when she knew damn well we needed it and when she got thousands of dollars. I’m sure it’s all gone now, though, spent on that sick cock of hers. She can’t send me one single solitary letter without a favor in it. It seems the more I give, the more I get taken advantage of. I’ve certainly done way more than enough for the girl, so I’m just going to ignore her for a while.

My weight’s been hanging around the 127-pound marker. I’m really surprised I haven’t gone back up to the 130s, though not surprised I haven’t gone under 127 like he still thinks I will. If he ends up right, I’ll have to figure out why I lost the weight so I’ll know what to do when I go to lose weight in the future. My first guess will be the much-extended workouts. Before I got this exercise ball, I sure as hell wasn’t working out an hour every day, faithfully. The ball makes ab work much easier and more comfortable. Mary, who’s also heavily into working out, ought to try it once she’s out.

After I was the one who figured out how to remove the lower window that’s cracked which I laughed at Tom for, he took it out and is now in Casa Grande getting it replaced. That’ll be $30 the damn ghost cost us! They just better do it right if they don’t want to be the first to screw us over and not get away with it and have it be the first time I fight back and do get away with it.

Speaking of getting away with things, well, as Tom pointed out, if anyone would get caught, it would be us, so due to the fact that we have no business license yet, we’re going to put just a plain label on the bag with the fragrance name along with instructions so no idiots go lighting it like a candle. It’d be just our shit luck for some off-duty pig, maybe even the one that came out with the bullshit story, to nail us on some form of no-no while others got away with whatever, so we’re being extra careful.

I just hope I don’t run into that tale-telling pig, though to tell you the truth, I doubt I’d recognize him if I saw him. In fact, I’m sure I wouldn’t. I only saw him twice for a few minutes, and he was obviously as ordinary-looking as most guys are to me, or else I’d remember him. I just picture him as being the type to come up to me and boldly say, “Hi, Jodi. How ya doing? Remember me? I’m the one that arrested you,” in the way an old acquaintance would say, “Remember me? I helped build your house a few years back.”

I would completely come unglued if this happened, though I can’t imagine it happening. I know things have happened that I thought couldn’t or wouldn’t happen, but if all continues to go well, God will never again punish me with the blacks, Mexicans or anyone that was associated with them.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 11, 2004 I thought maybe, just maybe, today was the day and I would find myself at 126, but no. I’m 127½. I know I’ll never lose any more weight. The question is, do I maintain what I’ve got or let myself gain more? It’s just that if I let myself climb to 140-150, I may very well never be able to get back down to where I’m at now. My weight’s been elevated too long which is no doubt the reason I’m unable to lose the weight. Your body gets so used to being a certain weight after so long that it gets really hard to change it. Also, a lot of my weight is muscle. Even Tom agrees I don’t look more than 120 pounds. The only way to lose more weight from here would be to lose the muscle and I don’t want to do that. It’s also hard when each thing you eat puts a pound on you and you only lose 2 pounds in your sleep. So if I have popcorn, a sandwich, and a bowl of soup, that’s 3 pounds right there, and I’d only sleep off 2 of them.

They’ve been awfully trigger-happy for the last few days. I wonder why they started up all of a sudden after all this time.

Another Wednesday I don’t have to play report, though I doubt report days are still Wednesdays. I’m sure it’s changed by now along with a zillion other things.

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 10, 2004 My allergies are acting up a bit, but so far I’m holding out on having to use the spray.

Yesterday we priced the stuff we hope to sell at the swap meet. Most of it is in 25¢ or $1 groups. I just hope it isn’t windy that day or something! We’ll also be hoping to sell about 5 bags of each of the 5 fragrances we have so far. Today we’ll order fruit, watermelon, grape, and chocolate oils to complete one of the variety packs, plus a 100-pack of dipped angels for me, along with bags and sticks. We want to make sure the curse has been lifted enough that we can sell it first before we go all out. Besides, we don’t have the money to do so right now anyway. We need to hang onto what we’ve got for the new land.

They had the perfect, and I mean perfect, deal online in northern AZ which is now where my vibes are strongly placed (in or near the White Mountains). There was a 37-acre lot that already had the dive on it which we plan to live in till we get our castle built. It was 1000 square feet which sure beats the 600-800 I was afraid we’d end up stuck in. This wasn’t on eBay either. Buying from eBay makes me a little nervous. It’d be just our shit luck to buy a piece of land, go on out to it, then find it doesn’t exist. It’s very unlikely, but unlikely things do happen, and knowing that God hates us enough to have something like that done to us, isn’t very comforting. I had to ask myself many times – are you sure God would let that happen?

Yes, he would, was the answer. And with no qualms whatsoever, so this is why we really have to look out for ourselves because we’re all we really have in that department. I’d like to think that God didn’t quite hate us that much, and he probably doesn’t, but you just never do know.

I heard a bunch of bangs yesterday afternoon that I thought were car doors at the new place in front. After so many of them, I realized that not even the freeloaders slammed that many doors when they’d set out on one of their many harassment campaigns. This was when it hit me that I was hearing gunshots, not car doors. I was surprised to hear them too, after so long without hearing them, and during the middle of the week, too. Tom said it sounded like target practice by the way they were firing so rapidly.

I still don’t have any bad vibes of anyone lurking about with evil intentions, so that’s good unless God’s keeping me from sensing them so I can be taken by surprise. As I said before, I just hope that if there is anyone with evil in mind, we’re out of here before they can act on it. I know better, though. If this were really the case, God’s going to make sure we’re right here where they can get at us.

I taped the bathroom in preparation for painting it. It’s just masking tape you use to edge along areas you don’t want painted.

As I told Tom, I think the best way to handle the broken windowpane in his office would be to remove it, then keep our mouths shut and hope it’s not noticed. If it does get noticed, all we have to do is say we weren’t aware of it. No one could peer into our brains and prove we really did know about it.

Anyway, I’m looking forward to moving, getting that over with and having more money as much as I’ll miss this house. I really hope it’s more remote. I want to live with nature, not people. If I want people, I can just go to the city. Most people are scared of remote, but I love that feeling of being the only ones around where we live. This is what I mean when I say God’s blessed me as well as cursed me. I have no fears. Absolutely no fears other than spiders, open heights and big dogs. Other than a few things, it’s like I lack the ability to feel fear, but I guess this is a good thing since fear is a negative emotion. The worst emotion, in my opinion, is depression, but still, I’m glad I’m so hard to scare!

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 2004 Yesterday turned out to be a fun day. When we got to the swap meet, people were still setting up so it wasn’t crowded at all. Tom was right about most of the stuff being junk, but not all of it was. They had some good books and those wind chimes were there, too. I got a couple of them for $5, then for just $1, who should I find there but Midge herself! The very one I was going to try to get on eBay till I ran out of money. This is the one with the painted-on bikini like Lea’s only Midge’s suit is blue and Lea’s is purple. I think that of all Barbie’s friends as well as Barbie herself, the Midge doll has the best face. She was in very good condition for being used. I sponged off the few scuff marks she had on her, washed her hair with liquid hand soap, brushed out the knots, and she was as good as new.

As I told Tom, I think we can sell some things there, but I don’t know how much. At least I don’t have to worry about anything being too dumpy. I mean, they had old pots and pans there that made our old ones, which I had worried may be too beat up, look like they’re brand spanking new.

After we left the place we headed for Casa Grande and Whataburger’s drive-through. On our way back we stopped at a smaller swap meet just past the huge dairy farm where Tom got an old computer for its fan and a backup drive, and I got 4 paperbacks, 3 of which are true crime stories, 1 of which is a James Patterson book Mary said she read. She said I have a lot of James Patterson in me, so I figure he must write stuff I’d like.

Anyway, we got masking tape and are going to spend the week pricing stuff, along with doing more painting and ordering more supplies.

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 2004 Today we’re going to the swap meet. I’m looking forward to checking it out. Tom has a little cash in case I want a $3 wind chime or a book in Spanish, which according to him, may be all I’d want since their stuff is so crappy.

I’m still not under 127, but I haven’t jumped back up either. I’m kind of taking the day off today, though I haven’t yet decided whether or not I’m going to allow myself a day off once a week from exercising. The good thing about it is that I couldn’t pig out if I wanted to since my stomach has shrunk down to nothing. A plate of spaghetti alone made me feel like I was going to burst.

How I wish I could continue losing 4 pounds a month! But me, 119 in two weeks? I don’t think so! I still don’t know that I’ll ever get under 127.

We decided to readjust our variety packs a bit. We decided to have 5 sticks of 6 scents in each pack and charge $5 for those we add burners to and $3 for just the incense. I settled on the floral pack having jasmine, carnation, gardenia, magnolia, patchouli, and cedar, though cedar’s a tree. The fruits and sweets pack will include fruit, watermelon, grape, brown sugar, chocolate, and butter rum. The miscellaneous pack will have fast cash, baby powder, vanilla musk, puddy cat, hot love, and black magic.

We started painting the mural wall to see how bad it would smell. It didn’t smell bad at all. We first thought it was lousy paint and that we wouldn’t get an even finish, but as it dried up, it was just fine. We have finished it yet, though.

Next week is when he’ll probably be contacting a realtor, and I hope it’s a woman. I really do.

I also hope I receive notification that Haiku’s on her way! I’m getting tired of waiting for that damn doll, but you know how it is when I order dolls. There’s always some delay or problem.

Next weekend is when we go to sell at the swap meet. This should give us a good idea of just how cursed or not-so-cursed we are/will be.

The unexplained foul odors continue to come in spurts. It seems 8:30 AM is one of its favorite times. It makes me wonder - if it really is connected to whatever lurks about this land - if it was killed at that time or something.

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 7, 2004 Well, this is it. I’m now down to 127. The diet itself has gotten a bit easier because my stomach’s shrunk on account of not eating as much, but I still don’t know if I can lose any more weight. I’m going to be putting spells on like crazy! I doubt God would help me even if he did like me as I doubt he’d see an extra 30 pounds as being all that much of a crisis. So, I’m on my own to either succeed or not succeed at this point.

Tom’s been dieting too, having one sensible meal, plus two Slim-Fast shakes a day. Tomorrow, after we check out the swap meet, we’re going to go to Casa Grande for our meals at a drive-through, though at my height it may not be so sensible if I eat anything else, so I’m going to remember to eat only that. I’m going to get a kid’s meal at Whataburger. The chicken strips and fries. It’ll be close to 1000 calories, so I won’t have anything else but salad that day. The adult portions would simply be too much for me now after 5 days of eating so little.

Tom usually stops at the PO on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Today we’ll probably mail out Paula’s last incense package, and the last package ever for that matter. I haven’t heard shit from her. I’ll probably get drafts from Mary, though. She’s been on a roll with sending drafts every few days or so. She’s also been good with including letters, filling me in on her life and answering any questions, so that’s cool.

He finished my medical romance story yesterday and says it’s my best yet. I was surprised. I didn’t think that one was going anywhere. I mean, I didn’t think it was bad, but I didn’t think it was all that exciting either. Mary, who finds suspense really scary, just may think that one’s the best so far, too. She’s more of a romance person than a suspense person. At least she seems to be anyway. The Angel Eyes story, which I plan to tackle after I finish College Romance, should be more romance-like than anything else. I’ve already begun taking notes for that story.

We agree that it’s best not to tell potential buyers of this house about the sonic booms they’ll be in for. Most people sleep at night so they probably won’t mind them. It’s not like it’s every few minutes of every day that you hear them anyway. I mean, as much as I’d prefer to do without them myself, I’d much rather that than city noise. If they’ve never heard them before, they too, are going to be like what the hell? when they hear the first thunderous boom. I remember the first time I heard/felt it. I was asleep. Tom was working days. I thought someone broke into the house and I ran out of the bedroom ready to pounce. I felt like both an idiot and a very relieved person when I found no one there. The next thing I did was check to see if any shelves went down. When I found everything in its place I was really confused until Tom heard it, too. His first thought was that they were blasting a mountain somewhere. He didn’t realize right away it was sonic booms because he didn’t know they were allowed to do that over land, yet apparently, where there’s no ocean, they can fly.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 6, 2004 I decided to weigh myself today. I’m a little bummed to find I’m at 128 and have only lost 3 pounds. Tom says that losing 1-2 pounds a week is reasonable for me, whereas a 3-4 pound-a-week drop is more reasonable for him. He says that if I give it till the end of the month, I should get under that infamous 127. I don’t know. I mean, I don’t want to get my hopes up.

All the information out there about dieting/fitness can be as confusing as all the different religions, and eventually you end up not knowing what to believe.

Tom had an excellent selling idea. The idea is to buy little things from eBay, then sell them at swap meets. Originally, he thought he might do it the other way around and buy stuff from swap meets to sell on eBay, but the swap meets are selling pure crap. Nothing but overpriced junk.

Harrah’s casino wants to do an interview with him on Monday concerning a job emptying the slot machines which he doubts he’ll get. I doubt it, too. I don’t sense it. He’s going to stick to his original plan, though, and not take any jobs unless they pay well. If he gets a good-paying job, we’ll relocate somewhere around here. If not, there’s no sense in him taking shitty-paying jobs just to quit in a month or two when we move. For now, we’ve got shitty pay for doing nothing, though we are going to make up several bags of incense and check out the swap meet this weekend. Next weekend is when we’ll probably start selling.

If only we could sell enough stuff, be it from here or at swap meets, to keep him from needing a regular job! We’re sick of working for others. We want to be our own bosses where we don’t have to worry about write-ups, firings or layoffs. It’s all going to hinge on the incense, and of course, fate. We can only try our best and then the rest is up to whatever’s meant to be.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 2004 This is day 4 of having just 1 sandwich, 1 popcorn, and 1 Ramen noodle packet, along with my hourly workout, and I ask myself – why do I bother? I’m only going to lose a few pounds, then stop once I hit 127. Oh well. I should be able to at least maintain my weight this way. If not, maybe I’ll quit food altogether and just eat like maybe once a week or something like that. We’ll see. I still don’t think I have diabetes or a wacky thyroid because I have no symptoms, and of course I can’t count on any help from above.

Tom got cans of light blue and pale pink paint. The bathroom and retreat will get the pale pink and one office wall along with the mural wall will get the light blue. Then we’ll take a can of white paint that came with the house for touch-ups and do the clouds with that. We’re going to start on the bathroom later on this morning.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 4, 2004 I slept miserably, though I’m awake enough to write. The Air Force woke me up twice today and so did the hunger pains. I was like please, please God, give me strength! And if you won’t, please, if there’s anything else out there that can help give me the strength not to succumb to this hunger, help me! So far so good. As far as getting boomed and vibrated awake; I’m just going to have to get used to that being a fact of life because any rural town not close to the ocean is going to have that. They’ve been flying like they were when we first moved in which means they’re probably not going to settle down till we’re about ready to move. You don’t get more than two days without them booming by these days!

In Mary’s draft that I got today, she speaks of being molested by her uncle Rick, Carolyn’s husband, and how many others have claimed to have been molested by him as well. Her sick, wimp of a mother wouldn’t believe her when she tried to tell her about it, Carolyn called her a liar, and then Carolyn’s own daughter, who was also molested, wrote Mary saying she was disgusted by her family trying to cover it up. She said Carolyn didn’t want him going to jail because she didn’t want to lose Rick’s army benefits.

So I’m reading this and I’m like, Mary, Mary, Mary. You mean to tell me that this uncle you say you’re still afraid of as a grown woman is the very one you still write to and speak with, along with his wife who protects him? How sad. How utterly sad. Is there ever going to come a day when she has enough self-respect to ask herself how can her aunt stay with him? How can she stand to even look at him? And how can she herself stand to associate with either the aunt, uncle or mother? I really think the best thing she could do when she gets out would be to grab that kid of hers and turn her back on the whole family except for Adam, then start over fresh. And she should stay single if she can’t stay away from the abusers. As I told her, I know for a fact that people like her mom, Jared and Rick never change, and if they do, it’s very short-lived. I truly believe from experience that the more we associate with people like that, the more they’ll just keep bringing us down.

And why isn’t Rick in jail? He belongs there with all the other little pervies, but no, God must protect him. Any mother who believes the word of others over their own child is no mother as far as I’m concerned, and her aunt, being the pervert protector that she seems to be from what I’m reading, is almost as bad as the pervert himself. This is why if I could give her any advice, I’d suggest she take the rest of the time she’s in that place to ask herself – are these the types of people she wants in her life when she gets out? Try to look at them as people, I told her, and put the shared blood aside for a minute. Then ask herself, do I like these people, really like them?

Had my father been a pervert, I’d have gotten the same reaction for telling my mother – rage and disbelief. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, had one of them killed me, the other would still be standing by them today as if it never happened.

Nonetheless, my life may not be perfect, but it sure does get better with age and I think hers will too, as long as she can get off her abusive-people kick. I think one of the biggest keys to being happy, or at least a lot happier, is who we associate with.

Mary’s right when she talks about how all forms of abuse can have such devastating effects. It seems it’s turned her into a frightened individual while it’s made me a very angry one. So much so that I still wish I’d handled Marty differently when he threatened me, and either kicked the shit out of him and shown him that he can’t threaten just anybody, or thrown a mock punch at him to get him to attack me so I could call the pigs and have him arrested, though this was the late 70s or early 80s, and with God as his protector, that’s not how it would’ve worked. The pigs would’ve blamed me for my own attack and told me they couldn’t do anything cuz Marty was “family.” With this fact in mind, he should’ve waited till I was stronger and braver and in my own apartment to make the threat where I’d have been, beyond a doubt, physically capable of making sure the sick fuck never again even so much as dared think to threaten anyone again.

Just like I was right about us not being able to make shit doing surveys, I was right about Memolink kicking us out for point-stealing. Those who clicked 25 points got their points taken away and those who clicked more got their membership terminated. I decided a long time ago that I wasn’t going to let what happened with the freeloaders keep me from speaking my mind when I have something to say, so without the least bit of intimidation, I sent them a message saying that what they did was wrong. It was their mistake and we shouldn’t be the ones to have to pay the consequences for their own screw-up when they’re the ones responsible for their own damn site. They suck, I told them, and I plan to spread the nastiest word I can about them.

Let’s see them have the guts to put that in their testimonials!

See, this is why I wouldn’t seek revenge on the freeloaders even if I knew where the cowards were and had the opportunity to do so. I know God would only lead the pigs right to my door. I can’t get away with the piddliest of things like point-stealing, yet others can beat me, try to rape me, play with my head, rip me off, frame me, etc., and God help me should I try to fight back!

It’s okay, though, cuz I’m just going to sign up as Miss Jodina S as soon as we move and use my old Feisty Dawn address. For now, I’ve signed up with My Points which is identical to Memolink. In fact, they have the same Lucky Surf lotto, which as we’ve discovered, is not exclusive to Memolink. Anyone can play it and they don’t have to join any points program either.

My top favorite fragrances are angel, baby powder, black cherry, black Henry, black magic, black narcissus, booty call, brown sugar, butter rum, bump & grind, butt naked, carnation, cedar, chocolate, cranberry, Choctaws mono, escape, floor, fruit, fast cash, gardenia, grape, honey, honey musk, hot love, jasmine, love supreme, magnolia, majmua, morning mist, Nubian musk, patchouli, pear, puddy cat, pussy, rain barrel, sugar plum, sun moon stars, sweet musk, vanilla musk, watermelon, white diamonds, white linen.

There are still a few more I’d like to sample such as vanilla melon, cherry musk, cherry opium, cherry vanilla, patchouli rose, strawberry musk, and strawberry vanilla.

Later…

As I read on, I found that Mary’s aunt did acknowledge what happened, though it was thirty years too late. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized that while it’s easy for me to call her a sick criminal herself for protecting Rick, what if I were in her shoes? What if Tom was guilty or accused of a crime – any crime? Would I turn him in? Absolutely not! So as wrong as she was, a part of me can relate to her.

Still haven’t weighed myself, but I know I’m still dropping. I doubt I’m under 127, though I’m probably right about that weight.

Yesterday was the first day in ages that I was stuck. I was shocked, though not too shocked as I always get stuck when trying to lose weight. I’m not worried about it anymore, though, because now I know that that doesn’t affect weight like I thought it did.

We cut tops off 2-liter soda bottles to air-dry the 200 or so sticks in that we made up to hopefully – hopefully – sell at a swap meet somewhere around here, and boy was our kitchen ever so fragrant! I even started getting a bit of a headache, the aromas were so potent, that I stuffed them in a cabinet. It’s too bad we’re not going to have the space to do that for a few years once we move.

I found out that the monthly giveaways they have at the incense place are for retail customers only.

At first I thought I wouldn’t bother with curtains, valances or any form of window coverings in “Dan’s dive,” as we call it since we’ll be in something similar to what he had. Then I decided to take some of the valances the house came with to use in the dive. It’ll be a sort of souvenir, too. Then, once we build our dream house, I’ll use the lacy valances I prefer.

Another piece of this house I’m taking is a spare scrap of carpet. We’ll use it as a doormat there and I’ll leave the ones that are here where they are.

Tomorrow’s a flight day, so I’m going to try to stay up as long as I can. That way I can also go out this Sunday without feeling too tired.

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 2004 Amazingly, both UPS and the Air Force let me sleep today, though I woke up a zillion times for a second just because. Meanwhile, Tom got the water pump installed, and the truck’s running fine.

I just hope we can get out of here before the next thing breaks! It’s been since November, so we’re about due any minute for something else to break. If it could just hold out till after we’re gone, that’d be wonderful because we have so much going on right now.

Although I don’t want to weigh myself till next Sunday, I can tell I’m down to 128-129. In 1-3 days I should hit 127, then comes the critical part and that’s to see if I can keep it going and not jump back up like I always do when I hit down at 127. If something’s wrong, I really do want to know about it. That way I can decide whether or not I want to try to dodge the quackery while I try to get the problem fixed, or just live with it. That is, whenever the hell we’re insured again. My vibes are shifting, now saying he may not be working till after we’re moved, and that yes, we are going up into the mountains, but I don’t know what state.

The further we go, the more Mary and I may have to fly to see each other when she’s out which would mean staying overnight. I don’t know if she’d dig that idea any more than I would, but considering the fact that we spent 9 days and 8 nights locked in a tiny room together, I guess we could handle a night or two at each other’s houses.

Anyway, the appetite suppressants have been worthless and the hunger’s been intense. I realize that no matter what aids I use, at 1200 calories a day I’m going to be hungry anyway. Anyone would be.

This shitting twice a day has got me stumped. I deliberately cut out foods that make you shit more so I wouldn’t go as often, but it seems I couldn’t get irregular if I tried. I don’t know, maybe all the salad or the tea’s doing it. I have more tea in the winter. Besides, it’s something I can put in my stomach without the calories that my coffee creamer has. Even so, I wish my body would quit this shit-happy cycle it’s gotten on. If it’s not going to hurt me to go 4 or 5 days a week and if going every day isn’t going to help with my weight, then why bother? But twice a day? That’s a bit overkill! I’ve been going when I first get up, then again towards the end of my day.

Tom says there’s a virus going around. I guess someone with a grudge against Microsoft put out this thing that sends out tons of emails. There’s a reward being offered, and I jokingly told Tom that it’s too bad we can’t say he did it, turn him, collect the reward, then bust him out of jail!

Memolink is also screwed up big time. We can’t even get into their site. My first thought was that they banned us for point-stealing and right after I legitimately earned a $15 certificate because something doesn’t want me making money and because Tom and Jodi can’t get away with shit, but the more Tom investigated, the more it appears to be a problem on their end.

Not surprisingly, my decorative plates didn’t sell. Of course not. Why should my stuff sell? Tom’s thinking of relisting them now that he knows what to say when describing them which he says he didn’t do the first time around. When I asked him what he meant by that, he said that since people are even dumber than he thought, it’s really all in how you describe your items. For example, one of the people who bought his coins gave him positive feedback saying that the coins were exactly as he described them. Meanwhile, he never did describe them in the first place. You gotta make people feel they’re getting a deal and like they’re taking advantage of you, as he says.

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 1, 2004 Currently, it appears that the best way to make the incense is going to be to let it soak for a day and to let it dry for a few days. It seems the more we let them dry, the less smoky they are and the more potent the fragrance is.

Today I got the pink fairy in the Fairytopia series, so that’s two down, one to go. I haven’t seen the blue one yet, though I’ve only been to Walmart twice since they came out. They say that blue is most people’s favorite color, so maybe that’s why there haven’t been any blue ones.

Yesterday I had an average of 2000 calories and 20 minutes of working out, so that earned me a jump up to 132. Starting tomorrow, I’ll drop back to 1200 cals and do an hour of exercise. What else can I do? Look at my outstanding talent for gaining weight as a gift from God and just go with it? Try to rack up all the pounds I can and call each one of just another one of life’s many blessings?

Speaking of God, every so often, like maybe once a year or so, I pray to him for help with something I’m stumped on, such as not being able to lose weight for the last couple of years, just in case he decides to listen to me for a change and help me. I know better than to count on it, knowing that I wouldn’t have gotten so big in the first place if he didn’t want me to. Besides, I don’t think he cares what the hell I weigh. Still, I got on my knees, and just like most people cross themselves, I did my little Star of David and asked for the strength to stick to the diet plan, to lose weight and keep it off, and not be given a new problem in exchange should I miraculously lose weight and keep it off for more than 5 minutes.

Tomorrow’s the day the prep work begins. We’re going to start with doing a tape and texture job where the cut bathroom panels are and where the strip is that we popped off to put the mural up. We’ll also fill in big holes. Not tiny holes made by tiny nails, but places where we had screws holding up shelves.

I’ll probably be the other way around this time. The last move was a bitch to prep the old place, yet moving into this house after we were done playing trailer/hotel was easy because there was so much space. This time around, prepping to move should be easy, while moving should be a bitch what with moving into an old dive ¼ the size of this place. I’ll have to remind myself that it’s only temporary every time I get frustrated with the peeling linoleum floors and the years of caked-on dirt, rust, grime and calcium that just won’t go away no matter how hard I scrub. In fact, I better enjoy baths in my big clean garden tub before I have to take them in a tub with soap rings dating back to before the release of Charlie’s Angels!

I erased the penciled outline of the pink ballerina silhouette on the wall by the closet and scrubbed the badly faded pink areas. I made it almost invisible. I’m sure the buyers won’t notice. Besides, this is likely to be a kid’s room, so it won’t matter as much as it would if there were discolorations in the kitchen, den or living room. Then, we’ll do the same skyscape on the wall where Patrice and the playboy’s silhouettes are.

It’s maddening out there right now with the damn dogs. I don’t know if they got into a fight or what, but I do know that Arizonans can’t keep their dogs under control and to themselves worth shit. Especially out here.

Later…

The sun has set, so off goes the dogs. Tom shooed some off the land today, then he just shooed another one barking in front of the house. Maricopa’s dogs are lucky we’re not staying here because I swear I’d shoot them all if we couldn’t get fences!

Our vanilla extract and butter-pecan experiments were a bust. They wouldn’t even light. Now he’s trying to mix cooking oil with mesquite leaves which I’m sure will also be a bust. The uncut butter rum is good, though, and I’m thinking maybe we’ll save a little money, time and work by just doing all uncut sticks.

Got 1 number.

Tom checked out the swap meet which he says was a zoo. He says they were selling major crap and that it wasn’t moving too well because they were asking too much. So, he figures we’ll have an easier time selling our stuff cuz we have nicer crap and we can lower our prices. He’s been researching eBay and finding a lot of crap for sale there too, so we might sell even more stuff that way. I’d prefer to avoid the zoo and do a yard sale here, but then we wouldn’t get as many people other than the neighbors. Next weekend, he wants to bring me to the swap meet to see if I can get any vibes, then we’ll take it from there.

Meanwhile, there’s no reason the water pump shouldn’t be here tomorrow so he can finally get the truck back up and running. The damn thing’s been sitting in Phoenix since Friday afternoon.

I still can’t believe no one’s moved in yet in front, and I also still can’t complain either. I’m hoping we make it out of here before they do arrive.

Tom showed me the basics of our site. I like its layout. He took me to the links to the java games, rat pics, doll pics, desert pics and wildlife pics that I’ve taken. He’s now uploading it as we figured that February 1st was a good time to start. The next step will be taking pictures of the incense. People like to see what they’re buying, so we’ll take pictures, but still keep a little mystery there. If they know they can buy the stuff themselves and make it themselves, they won’t want to get it from us.

Because ours is a free site as opposed to one with a monthly fee, I have to watch what I say. I can say “I got this particular doll at Paradise Galleries,” but I can’t add that I had to fight tooth and nail to get it and that their service sucked so bad that I quit buying from them after a while.

The prepping began today, too. We puttied up the panels in the bathroom. Tomorrow we’ll sand it down, then it’ll be ready to paint.

Our ghost is at it again. I heard footsteps behind me, but when I went to turn around, no one was there.

[apirateslifefor--smee]

Sunday, November 12 -- Background NPC: Write about a moment of your character’s life from the perspective of an NPC character. 

Time For Tea | Mary

Warnings for: xenophobia

Mr. Arnold didn’t invite street rats ‘round for tea because he wanted to impress them. Or maybe he did, but not in the same way he wanted to impress the bankers and businessmen whom I typically served. It was about putting them in their place, impressing upon them his vast power and resources to crush them if they stepped a toe out of line. He never said this, but we all knew it. 

Still, I was to treat them like any other honored guest. That much was communicated to us, quite directly, by Mrs. Arnold. 

Samuel was small and pudgy, eternally ruddy-cheeked as though he was permanently in a state of stepping in from the cold. He looked familiar, though I couldn’t initially place why. I didn’t ask, anyway— I wasn’t supposed to make idle chatter with the guests. I took his (ill-fitting) coat and disappeared to the behind-the-curtains places staff are supposed to disappear.

I always found these teatimes odd, the ones with youths not much older than I, whom I might have lived and worked alongside if certain events in our lives had gone differently. And sometimes I wondered if that was part of the point. To remind us of our own place, too.

Mrs. Barton piled my tray high with scones just as I finished making the tea, hardly giving me a second look. I knew she didn’t like me. I wondered if it had to do with the fact that I had lied about my age for this job, but I suspected it had more to do with my accent, with the fact that she probably believed my family was here to take jobs away from people who had been here longer. I’d hoped she might see something in me the way Mr. Arnold sees something in the young men he takes under his wing, but at this point I think she refuses even to look.

It was alright. Every week, I collected my carefully-printed check and took it to the bank, and there would be just a bit of money left after all the family’s expenses that I told myself I could one day use for my education. Maybe.

But it was hard not to feel jealous as I round the corner, overhearing Mr. Arnold lecturing Samuel on politics and philosophy.

Of course, it was all horribly boring. But it was a small price to pay. I could already see it— just a few years of coming ‘round for tea and Samuel would be reinvented, in jackets that actually fit him and a refined manner of speaking that made people believe he was born in this part of London and raised at a posh public school in the country. Not that he was—

Well, bloody hell. Now I knew where I had seen Samuel before. Sam, as I’d known him then. I could see it on his face, too, that he knew where he’d seen me before, too. 

I kept my expression frozen, though, as I set the tray down on the table. And Sam rearranged his expression to a neutral one just as quickly. Mr. Arnold thanked me, and I scurried away to my next task. It was all a carefully-choreographed dance: not just the things Mr. Arnold and his company did to impress one another, but my list of duties as well.

The dance continued— topping up the tea and scones, helping Mrs. Barton with the cleaning, tending to the fire, standing by in case I was needed for anything. Eventually, Mr. Arnold instructed me, as he often did, to show our guest to the washroom.

It was only when we had made it to the hallway that Sam finally spoke to me, his eyes wide with surprise. “Mary,” he breathed. “How did you- what are the chances- how are you?”

“Sam,” I replied bluntly, under my breath. “Don't do this. I know from this point forward how this is going to go. You’re going to go back in there and pretend you’ve got no idea who I am-”

“Well-”

“You don’t have to defend yourself. I wasn’t expecting otherwise.”

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again.

“Don’t make promises we both know you won’t keep. We’re both trying to make our own way. I don’t want your help, or your pity, or any of that.” I knew better than that, at this point. “But send Stefan my best, alright? If you still talk to him.”

I could tell from the look on his face that he didn’t.

“This is where I leave you,” I added, arriving at the washroom. “Goodbye, Sam.”

It wasn’t, and yet it was. I would continue to see Sam for years after, as his bond with Mr. Arnold grew stronger. And then he was off to Eton and I remained in London, still nursing my small pile of savings. That, nobody could take from me. 

He forgot about me, I’m sure. I forgot about him, too, for the most part. But one weekend I took my grandchildren to the magical town where a fall festival was happening and saw a ruddy-cheeked man instructing a younger person at a game of darts, and I had the oddest feeling that I’d seen a ghost. Or perhaps it was just someone else. These old men in their fine coats and polished speech tend to blend together, don’t they?

[alllthebadpartss]

- AI-Less Whumptober -

day thirteen, surprise sunday

prompt(s): defiance, "take me instead."

fandom: Wolverine Frogs (my debut novel ayy)

Joey stands over Ethan, hands bloodied from the beating. Ethan’s face is a mess of cuts and bruises, his breath labored as he lay sprawled in the dirt. The night sky looms above them, an eerie silence hanging in the air as the others watch from a distance, uncertain of what was about to happen.

"You failed," Joey growls, pacing back and forth. "You promised we'd get Polly back, that everything would go as planned. But now she's gone, and you're still breathing?"

Ethan coughs, spitting out blood. "I didn't know... it wasn't supposed to—"

"Shut up!" Joey roars, delivering another hit to Ethan’s side, causing him to cry out in pain. "You don’t get to talk! Not after what you’ve done."

That's bound to leave a mark.

Lara stands off to the side, her heart pounding in her chest. She knows Joey is dangerous—had seen it before—but this is different. There is a rage in him now that she hadn't seen, something darker, more unhinged. She glances at Ethan, then back at Joey. Ethan had lied to them, manipulated them, but did he deserve to die for it?

That's a little extreme, isn't it?

Joey snarls. "You deserve this, Ethan. You’re nothing but a snake, and snakes need to be cut down—"

"Joey, stop," Lara's voice comes out softer than she intended. She steps forward, hesitant but determined. "We can’t do this."

Joey shoots her a glare. "Why not? After everything he's done? After Polly? He deserves worse!"

"I know," Lara says, her voice trembling. She looks down at Ethan, whose eyes were filled with fear, then back at Joey. "But this isn't the way."

Then what? We just let him go? Let him walk away like nothing happened?"

Lara swallows hard. She can feel the weight of the decision pressing down on her. There is no easy way out of this, no clean resolution. But if Joey kills Ethan, there would be no coming back from it—not for any of them.

"Take me instead," she blurts out before she could stop herself.

Joey freezes, his eyes narrowing as he turns to face her fully. "What?"

"Take me," Lara repeats, her voice stronger this time. She steps closer to Joey, looking him in the eye. "You want someone to pay, right? Then let it be me."

"Lara, no—" Ethan croaks, struggling to sit up, but another hit from Joey silences him.

Joey's eyes search hers, confused and angry. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Lara takes a deep breath, trying to steady her shaking hands. "He was my friend. If you kill Ethan, it won’t fix anything. It won’t bring Polly back. But if you need someone to take the fall, then let it be me."

The silence that followed is deafening. Joey stares at her, his expression unreadable. The others watch from the shadows, too afraid to intervene, too shocked to speak.

"Lamb..." Joey's voice wavered slightly. "I can't—"

"You can," she insists, stepping even closer, until she can almost feel the tension radiating off him. "You can blame me. You can hate me. But don’t do this. Not like this."

For a moment, Joey looks as though he might break. He looks between at Ethan, then back at Lara, struggling with the choice before him. "You want your friend to live?" Joey asks. "Then you have to stay. You have to stay here forever. You don't get to leave."

"Fine."

"Good answer, Lamb."

Lara exhales, relief flooding through her, though she knows this is far from over. Ethan lay motionless, gasping for air, and she knows that they were still standing on dangerous ground. Joey stalks off into the night, leaving Lara standing over Ethan, her mind racing.

"You... saved me," Ethan whispers, his voice hoarse.

"Don’t thank me," Lara mutters, her eyes cold as she stared down at him. "This isn't over. You still have to make things right."

[kpopfanfictrash]

Love to Hate (Ch. 5)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Fuck Buddies / Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Synopsis: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you've done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.

Rating: 18+ (this chapter is not explicit)

Warnings: excessive alcohol consumption, some dirty talk

Word Count: 11,444

“Yes, that’s correct,” you say, as patiently as you can after being passed around to no less than three servers and waiting on hold for nearly six minutes. “I need a table for five two nights from now. Yes – for Sunday evening.”

Movement in your doorway causes you to look up and, upon seeing Hoseok, you straighten. He mouths something at you, motioning towards the phone cradled between your neck and ear. Unable to make it out, you shake your head once and gesture for him to hold on.

Exhaling, Hoseok leans against your doorframe and folds his arms.

On the other end of the line, you listen to silence while the hostess at Avli searches through reservations. Avli on the Coast is a beautiful restaurant with an outdoor patio you’re praying has a table large enough to accommodate five people. You found out this morning an important donor is visiting and wants to talk business. Read: they want to be wined, dined, and reminded how important they are to the cause.

When the hostess returns, she informs you that yes, she has a table. There’s been a last-minute cancellation and normally, they hold the table for walk-ins, but you’ve brought them so much business over the years.

“Thank you!” you gush, prompting Hoseok’s lips to twitch. “Seven in the evening is perfect. I will see you then. Thanks, again.”

Hanging up the phone, you slump behind your desk.

“Avli is a go,” you say by way of greeting. “Managed to get a reservation for Sunday with the Gunderson’s.”

Giving a thumbs-up, Hoseok enters your office to shut the door. “Well, hopefully my news is better than the prospect of dinner with the Gunderson’s.”

“Anything is.”

Taking a seat before your desk, Hoseok reaches to pluck a fidget spinner from the colorful basket. A gift from Seokjin the last time he came to your office. Twirling this between his fingers, Hoseok glances upward.

“Liam called,” he announces.

You pause. “Liam… Jessen?”

A nod. “Yep, that’s him.”

“Oh.” On the outside, you try and play it cool but on the inside, your heart is racing. “That’s interesting. What did he want?”

“He wants to invest in Clean Ocean.”

It takes a beat for Hoseok’s words to sink in but once they do, your eyes widen.

“Wait – really?” you blurt before your excitement can be concealed. “How much?”

Hoseok grins. “Guess.”

“This isn’t as fun a game as you think.”

“Come on, guess.”

“Uh, I don’t know.” You shrug. “Half of what we need.”

“More.”

You blink. “Three quarters?”

“More!”

“… the full amount?”

Laughing, Hoseok holds up two fingers. “Double what we lost when that investor pulled out.”

Jaw dropping, you struggle to comprehend what Hoseok is saying. Double the money you lost from that asshole CEO. If this is true, you won’t need to push off the coastal ecosystem project to next year. Not only that, but you’ll be able to increase the project’s scope.

“This is… huge,” you say after a moment.

“I know.” Hoseok beams. “It’d solve our funding issues and then some.”

“Wow,” you exhale, sitting back in your chair. “Is this what it’s like to have money? It feels…” Pausing, you frown. “Awfully unsettling.”

“Let’s not go that far. We’re far from being stable.”

“Good. All the best plans are.”

Snorting, Hoseok pushes his chair back to stand. “Alright,” he says, pulling out his phone. “I’m forwarding to you Liam’s contact information. I already spoke to him and sent his lawyers the preliminary donor agreement, but I’m sure he’d appreciate a call.”

“Of course,” you say, already opening your laptop. “I’ll make sure I call him before I leave today.”

“This isn’t final, you know,” Hoseok warns as he leaves. “His lawyers still need to review the terms, our lawyers need to review after and it’s possible he could pull out or change the amount by the end of it all.”

“I know, I know,” you say with a wave of your hand. “You’re talking to the Queen of Pessimism, Hoseok.”

“Oh, right. Forgot your formal title.”

You smile as he leaves though, shutting the door behind him. Left alone with your thoughts and laptop, you attempt to finish other work but find yourself thoroughly distracted by Hoseok’s proclamation. Definitely better than dinner with the Gunderson’s.

Smoothing your shirt, you swivel in your chair until you face the window. The view from your office is less than stellar – that of an old clothing factory – but beyond it you can see a glimmer of ocean. It’s late in the afternoon and you can see the sun sink steadily towards the horizon, bathing the city in an orange-gold light.

Glancing at your clock, you debate whether it’s too late to call. It is Friday after all, and Liam seems like the type of guy to have weekend plans. After much deliberation, you decide it’s worth it to try.

Picking up the phone, you dial Liam’s number and tap your nails on the desk while you wait for him to answer.

“Hello?”

Shit – as soon as you hear Liam’s voice, you remember how attractive he is. His voice conjures memories of the fundraiser, staring dreamily into those deep, hazel eyes. Stands of golden-brown hair flopping across his forehead, with cheekbones that could –

“Um, hello? Is someone there?”

Realizing you haven’t said a word yet, you cringe. “Uh– yes. Sorry,” you blurt, ignoring your pounding heart. “I accidentally pressed mute. This is Y/N, of the Clean Ocean organization. My assistant, Hoseok, told me you called.”

“Ah – Y/N!”

Liam sounds pleased, draining some of your tension. His smile is audible; a trait you find crippling in the opposite sex. People who can smile-speak should add that to their resume as a third language.

“I’m so glad you called,” Liam continues. “Hoseok and I spoke briefly about my company’s interest in Clean Ocean, but I was hoping to discuss with you, as well.”

“Well.” You settle back in your chair. “I’m glad to fulfill your expectations so quickly.”

Liam chuckles. “I’m not sure how much Hoseok said, but Infinity Motors has been looking for new organizations to sponsor for quite some time now. Like I said at your fundraiser, I’ve been interested in Clean Ocean for a few months.”

“I remember,” you say.

What you don’t add is you remember the part which came after. The part where Liam said specifically, he was interested in youand how you run Clean Ocean.

“I have to say.” Liam hesitates. “I’m kind of embarrassed by how enthusiastic I was that night.”

Immediately, you break into a smile. “Listen, if the worst thing you did was tell me how dedicated you are to preserving the ocean, that’s a pretty good first impression.”

“Tell you? I practically shouted it.”

“A statement worth shouting, in my opinion.”

“I guess so,” he laughs. “Honestly, that’s part of why it took me so long to contact you.”

“Part of? What were the other reasons?”

“Convincing my board to donate more than they originally agreed to,” he says bluntly. “And, well. I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”

“You’re a hard man to forget, Liam Jessen.”

Another chuckle. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

“I’d say so.”

Liam pauses, allowing the silence to lengthen. Glancing out the window again, you realize the sun has nearly sunk.

“And,” Liam adds, his tone shifting. “There was that conversation you witnessed between me and Jungkook. I’m afraid I didn’t… come off very well.”

Uncertain, you blink. You haven’t thought about the conversation since the fundraiser and are surprised to hear Liam bringing it up. It’s hard for you to remember exactly what was said. You recall tension between them, but the same can be said for a lot of people in your world.

“It’s no problem,” you say at last. “Whatever your relationship is with Mr. Jeon, that won’t affect your involvement with Clean Ocean.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Especially since the two of you seemed close.”

When he says this, you freeze, your hand flat on your desk. Your mind immediately jumps to a billion possibilities – is there a chance Liam saw you in the hall? Or possibly he noticed your interaction with the other donor.

Quelling your panic, you carefully say, “We do know each other, yes.”

You offer nothing more than this, and luckily Liam decides this is sufficient.

“Oh, good,” he says. “Because I’ve been thinking since the fundraiser, and I think you and I could make something great together.”

Liam’s use of the words you and I doesn’t escape you, nor does his elimination of your organization name. Pulse quickening, you lean back in your chair.

“Oh, do you?”

“Mm.” Liam’s tone is light, almost teasing. “My company is all about sustainable means of technology, and part of that involves coming to terms with the legacy the auto industry has left. It’s a purposeful investment we’re making in cleaning oil disasters.”

“Oh,” you say, blinking at the sudden shift in tone. “Right. I think that’s an admirable effort and Clean Ocean is more than happy to help you with that goal.”

“Wonderful. And who from your organization would be helping, might I ask?”

“Well, I’m not sure,” you say, brow furrowing. “We have many talented individuals on staff. Once the agreement is finalized, we can discuss who’d be best equipped to handle your company’s needs.”

“And would one of these many talented individuals be you?”

Thrown by the question, you find yourself at a loss.

“Well… possibly, depending on timing.”

“I’m sorry for pressing.” Liam gives a low laugh. “It’s just, I think you have a lot of great ideas on the future of conservation. I’d love to talk more about the potential partnership.”

“I’m sure that we will.”

“What about next Friday night? Are you free?”

Pausing, you stare at the door to your office. Is… Liam asking you out? His tone and the way he phrases the question sounds like he might be, but you’re talking about your organization and his company.

There are legal agreements being drawn up and he’s about to become a donor – it would be a conflict of interest to date if that’s what he wants. As soon as you think this, you push it aside. Likely, that’s not the case and Liam is only interested in what your company can do for his.

“Dinner is good,” you say. “Would you like me to make a reservation?”

“No need for that, I can do it. My assistant will be in touch with Hoseok to work out the details – does that work?”

“That sounds good!”

Not a date. Very much not a date.

“Oh, and Y/N?”

He pauses long enough for the air between you to thicken.

“Yes?”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”

Butterflies take flight in your stomach and, despite every reason this might be a bad idea, you can’t help but smile.

“Likewise,” you say.

“Good.” Another speak-smile. “I’ll see you next Friday.”

“See you then.”

Before he can respond, you hang up the phone and take a deep breath. You’re going to see Liam again: the thought sparks equal excitement and nausea.

Liam is attractive, successful and has every known quality you look for in a partner. Most importantly, he pulled himself upward on his own accord. There were no billionaire parents bankrolling his ventures. Whatever grades Liam received, he got on his own. If you did date, you wouldn’t feel the need to worry about who’d see you, who’d gossip and what incestuous feud you might be walking into.

Although. Liam knows Jungkook, and their conversation at your fundraiser remains something of a question mark. There was history between them, and you dimly remember coming to Jungkook’s aid. Something you never expected to happen, which means Liam must have truly been in the wrong.

Still – everyone has someone who gets under their skin. Jungkook got under yours at first and sometimes he still does. You can hardly hold it against Liam for feeling the same.

Regardless, there’s a new donor in line for Clean Ocean and a prospective dinner with Liam on the horizon. Things are looking up and as you reach for your coffee, you return to your laptop.

Several messages are waiting in a thread from both Seokjin and Hoseok.

Hoseok: crisis averted, Seokjin – as it turns out, you can keep that trust fund to yourself [4:43 PM]

Seokjin: does this mean you found a donor? [4:44 PM]

Hoseok: yep [4:44 PM]

Seokjin: WOOHOO *sent with confetti* [4:45 PM]

Seokjin: this calls for a celebration. Drinks on me tonight [4:46 PM]

Hoseok: idk, Seokjin. Your kind of celebration usually ends with the cops being called [4:46 PM]

Seokjin: that happened ONE time [4:47 PM]

Seokjin: and who’s this mysterious donor that saved you? [4:47 PM]

Hoseok: one time is one time too many. And the donor is Infinity Motors [4:48 PM]

Seokjin: if I could whistle via text, I would [4:48 PM]

Seokjin: your mysterious savior is Liam Jessen [4:49 PM]

Seokjin: that guy is crazy hot [4:49 PM]

Hoseok: he seems like he’s a competent CEO, if that’s what you’re saying [4:50 PM]

Seokjin: that’s not what I’m saying at all. In fact, the two are rarely correlated [4:51 PM]

Reaching the end of the messages, you decide this is a good time for you to interrupt.

Y/N: first off, Seokjin’s trust fund was never on the table. Second, Seokjin you’re not allowed to sleep with our donors [4:52 PM]

Seokjin: party pooper [4:52 PM]

Seokjin: are you in for drinks tonight? [4:53 PM]

Glancing at the clock, you debate whether it’s a good idea before deciding what the hell. You could use a night out without thinking of Liam or Jungkook or any of the other supposedly non-complicated men in your life.

Y/N: yeah, sure – I’m in! let’s go out [4:55 PM]

Seokjin: yes, THAT is the energy I wanted. Hoseok, what about you? [4:56 PM]

Hoseok: why not, I have nothing better to do [4:58 PM]

Seokjin: that’s the opposite of the energy I want, but I’ll take it [4:59 PM]

Seokjin: let’s go to Topaz! Finish up work and meet there at 7? [5:00 PM]

Topaz is a bar super-close to Seokjin’s work. Great ambience, relaxed atmosphere during the week and a party hub on the weekend. There’s a gigantic balcony with a dance floor you’re sure Seokjin will frequent after one or two drinks. It’s a go-to staple for drinks after work.

Y/N: sounds like a plan [5:02 PM]

Closing the chat, you return to your emails. There’s work to do before leaving, and the looming night out is distraction enough.

Time passes quickly though, and by the time seven rolls around, you’ve crossed every task off your to-do list. Standing, you stretch both arms overhead and are startled to see the sun has completely set.

Locking your laptop in a drawer, you walk around your desk to stop before the mirror. Making a face, you remove your blazer. Better. Now, you’re wearing only a sheer top and high-waisted pants. Acceptable for a night out at the bar.

Leaving the office, you cross to Hoseok’s desk and perch on the edge.

“Hoseok.”

Ignoring you, he continues typing his email.

Glancing at your wrist, you loudly exhale. “Hoseok,” you repeat. “We’re already late.”

“I know,” he says, brow furrowed at the screen. “But someone has to finish this before we leave for the weekend.”

“Yes, but I’m your boss. And as your boss, I’m saying you should get out of the office and live more.”

“As my boss,” Hoseok mutters, “we probably shouldn’t be going out drinking together.”

Waving this aside, you dig around in your purse for your lipstick. Locating it, you start to reapply using your phone as a camera.

“And you definitely shouldn’t pry into my sex life,” you say, “but here we are.”

Hoseok snorts, smile flashing as he presses send on his email. Glancing upward, he sees you and his eyes slightly widen.

“Damn, no sleeves, Y/N?” Hoseok says, standing from his chair. “I thought we were going out to celebrate, not get you laid.”

“Why can’t one follow the other?”

“Fair enough,” he laughs.

Following your lead, Hoseok removes his suit jacket to drape over the chair. Glancing at his reflection – the sun has long set – he frowns at the window and undoes a button on his shirt.

“Olya’s coming,” he says. Lifting a hand, Hoseok styles a few strands of hair. “I messaged her earlier asking if she wanted to join us for drinks.”

“Oh, really?” you drawl.

Catching your expression, Hoseok frowns. “It’s not like that, Y/N.”

“Like what?”

Rolling his eyes, Hoseok turns to grab his wallet. “You know that we work together.”

“I do, yes.”

“And I would never date a co-worker.”

“Mhm.” You nod. “And normally I’d agree with that approach, except Olya doesn’t report to you. She reports to me.”

Hoseok gives you a pointed glance. “You mean my best friend?”

“Hang on, Seokjin’s not your best friend?”

With a sigh of exasperation, Hoseok moves past you towards the door.

“Wait – I’m sorry,” you laugh, grabbing his elbow to hop down from his desk. “I just want you to be happy, you know that.”

“I know,” Hoseok grumbles, stepping into the hall. “Alright, let’s grab Olya and go catch an Uber.”

You agree, bounding ahead to Olya’s office.

Olya joined the company three years ago as one of the top event specialists in the area. Which is saying a lot, based on how many people in your city love to throw parties. She’s blunt, intimidating, and hilarious as hell. Olya is the type of person you’d be friends with if you weren’t constantly second-guessing the motives of everyone around you. The words of your therapist, not you.

Reaching her office, you find Olya finishing up a fresh coat of mascara. Hoseok comes to a standstill when he sees her, so you give him a small push.

It can’t be coincidental that Hoseok’s last relationship ended around the same time Olya joined the company, but he refuses to discuss it. For Hoseok, rules are more black and white than they are for you. Usually.

The ride downtown passes quickly, helped by the fact that it’s after rush hour. You arrive at Topaz during the transition from restaurant to dance club, the lights on its back patio already flashing.

Grinning, you push open the door and immediately spot Seokjin. He’s seated at a table near the back, sipping a watermelon margarita as he waves you over.

Hoseok sits across the table from Seokjin, and Olya sinks into the empty seat between them. You can’t help but notice her thigh resting closer to Hoseok’s than Seokjin’s. Hiding a grin, you slide into the empty seat and turn to face Seokjin.

Scanning him once, you feel your lips twitch. “Did all your buttons break?”

Seokjin’s shirt has been unbuttoned to nearly his navel, exposing large swarths of his firmly toned chest. Ignoring your comment, Seokjin takes a long sip of his drink.

“I’m just showing people the goods,” he explains, gaze roaming the bar. “I’m not the kind of guy who plays hard to get.”

“I’m sure.”

His eyes gleam as he turns. “Why, Y/N – is that what you like? Is the kind of thing you and Jungk –”

Cutting him off, you toss a pointed look at Olya.

She seems oblivious to the slip, sipping her drink while she flirts with Hoseok. It doesn’t seem as though Olya is listening, but you never know. Mentioning Jungkook during happy hour would be the opposite of covert.

Seokjin clears his throat. “Is that, uh, the kind of thing you do with your hookups, Y/N?”

He mouths, sorry, and you stifle a laugh. Seokjin soon disappears to get a round for the table – beer for Hoseok, vodka tonic for Olya and a watermelon margarita for you. Clinking glasses when he returns, you down the first half to Seokjin’s raucous cheering.

The next two rounds are spent at the table. Olya recently read one of your favorite series, and you spend the better part of an hour gossiping about its characters (“Okay, but when Kaz finds Inej and brings her to the boat?” “And Nina and Matthias’ MEETING!”) until Hoseok interjects with a panicked, “I haven’t read the second book yet!”

Feeling extra warm and giddy, you laugh and switch topics. Tequila muddling your thoughts, you turn at some point and spot the dance floor on the balcony. It doesn’t take much convincing for Olya to follow you out, drink in hand. Pivoting to face her, your hips move in time to the music.

Seokjin and Hoseok follow suit, the former needing little coercion. Seokjin is already on his fifth drink, performing TikTok dances for the public while Hoseok films. Olya cracks up, spilling some of her vodka on the tile which you swerve to avoid.

Over the railing of the balcony, the ocean is visible. A thin strip of moonlight cuts from horizon to shore, a salty-sweet breeze drifting over the dance floor. Tipping your head back, you twirl around in time to the music. Seokjin is your dance partner at one point, leaving soon after to return with fresh drinks.

Eventually though, Seokjin spots someone hot and beelines in this direction. Shaking your head, you turn and find Olya and Hoseok standing a few steps away. They’re deep in conversation, Olya gazing over the ocean and Hoseok gazing at her.

A slight twinge goes through you. Not because you wish you were Olya, but because you envy her position. You wish you had someone who looked at you, and only you.

Exhaling, you return to the dance floor but make it only one step before your phone buzzes. Reaching into your pocket, you pull out your phone.

Jason

A small part of you deflates, as though you expected another name. Ignoring this, you open your brother’s text and walk off the dance floor. Jason is saying he’ll be out of the country for the next couple of weeks, and you acknowledge this by responding, safe flight.

Closing out of the thread, you swipe over to Instagram. Without quite knowing why, you lean a shoulder to the wall as you aimlessly scroll. After a few minutes, you change tactics and click through some stories. A friend from college and her puppy. Sending a heart, you move on. A brand you like is having a sale, your cousin wants opinions on her new dresses and –

Pausing, your fingers return to the story you skipped.

Jungkook followed you a few weeks back, and you begrudgingly returned the favor the day following. Since your initial browse, you haven’t returned to his page. Jungkook doesn’t use Instagram often and when he does, it’s only to fulfill his rich playboy image.

He’s recently posted to his story though, and this time isn’t a thirst shot from the gym. Jungkook is at a fundraiser, slouched in a seat which likely cost him a grand. Cost his family a grand, you correct yourself.

Jungkook’s face is in frame for only a second, looking stupid-attractive before he flips the camera around. A middle-aged woman sits at the next table, and in the bag at her side is seated a dog. Stifling a laugh, you clasp a hand over your mouth. You can’t imagine how much this woman paid to bring her dog to the fundraiser.

It’s hard for you to hear over the music, but you think Jungkook snickers before flicking a small piece of chicken. The dog lunges to grab it, nearly knocking over the purse and Jungkook quickly lowers his phone.

The story ends there and, fighting a grin, you send him a message.

Y/N: $10 if you throw something bigger [9:02 PM]

Almost immediately, Jungkook starts to type back.

Jungkook: how much bigger [9:03 PM]

Y/N: does the terrible salad which came with your meal have cherry tomatoes? [10:03 PM]

Jungkook: lol yes, it does [9:04 PM]

Jungkook: alright, check my story [9:07 PM]

Grinning, you swipe right to return to your home screen. Jungkook’s new story appears, and you click on his name. Another shot of his face, followed by him cocking a brow before the phone flips around. Focusing on the dog, you watch Jungkook throw the tomato –

And miss.

You can’t help but laugh as the cherry tomato rolls, ending beneath the next table. Sitting back quickly, Jungkook mutters, “Fuck,” and you hear high-pitched laughter before the video is cut off.

Returning to your DM’s, you respond.

Y/N: you owe me $10 [9:08 PM]

Jungkook: 😈 I’ll make it up to you [9:09 PM]

Y/N: can’t wait 😇 [9:10 PM]

There’s no immediate reply and, after a moment, you realize you’re being rude and slip your phone in your pocket.

Glancing up, you catch the eye of a tall, dark-haired stranger across the bar. His gaze lingers on yours, dropping to your empty drink before returning to your face. Lifting a brow, he smiles, and you return the gesture.

Making an impulse decision, you wind your way through the bar until you reach his side. “Are you asking me if I need another drink, or just curious where the glass is from?”

The guy laughs, displaying twin dimples. Cute – very cute. Ducking his head, he flicks wavy hair from his eyes in a self-conscious manner.

“The former,” he says, looking up. “I was actually hoping to buy you another.”

Cute and smooth.

“I accept.”

Grinning, he gestures for you to lead the way. With great care, you maneuver yourself around multiple spilled drink and many dancing bodies. Your favorite bar is at the front; once you arrive, you lean your elbows to its counter.

“So.” Placing one hand on the counter, the guy glances at you. “I’m Ethan.”

“Hi, Ethan.”

He waits for a second, then grins. “Don’t I get to know your name, mysterious stranger?”

“Hm…” You smile. “I kind of like mysterious stranger. Has a nice ring to it.”

“True. Gin and tonic,” Ethan says when the bartender appears. Glancing your way, he raises a brow. “And one of whatever she’s having.”

“A watermelon margarita,” you answer. Once the bartender turns, you smile at Ethan. “And my name is Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeats. “A beautiful name.”

“A beautiful line.”

He laughs, eyes glinting as he leans further in. This close, you can smell his cologne – Tom Ford, you think, and the remnants of his gin drink.

“So,” Ethan says.

���You said that already.”

He blinks, somewhat thrown and you sigh. So, Ethan is one of those guys. The type of guy who goes to a bar, buys drinks for a girl, and has a specific script for how the night should go. God forbid one of the players decides to speak off-book.

Suppressing a wince, you accept the margarita pushed across the counter. It’s hard to stifle your mother’s words in your mind, warning you against being too sharp. Too demanding. Men don’t like women who threaten their ego.

Any other night, you’d simply walk away. Were this a real date, you already would’ve shown Ethan the door, but this isn’t a real date. You’re here for one reason and one reason only: you’re drunk, kind of lonely and looking for intimacy. Ethan fits the bill.

Forcing a smile, you turn to face him head-on. “Want to dance?” you say, jerking your chin towards the floor.

He nods, grabbing his drink and letting you lead the way. Finding an empty spot by the DJ, you turn around and slide your hand up his chest. Ethan smiles, pulling you closer until your hips brush against his.

The song is upbeat but sultry, and you hold your drink in one hand while you grind against him. Ethan is a good dancer, his hips moving to the beat but after two or three songs, you find your mind wandering.

You can’t help but imagine another set of hands on your waist, another body on yours, another’s lips on your throat. Breath hitching, your eyes flutter shut – and you realize you’re thinking of Jungkook.

Teeth gritted, you force your eyes open and turn quickly around. Pressing your back against Ethan, you down your drink quickly and deposit the glass on a counter. Leaning against his shoulder, you move one of his hands to cover yours on your waist. His body molds to yours from behind, feeling enticing and firm, and yet – your mind wanders.

Although he’s not a bad dancer, all his moves feel the same. Ethan has squeezed your ass several times, and you’re just not feeling it. When he attempts an open-mouthed lick up your neck, you decide to call it quits.

“O-kay,” you say, taking a step forward. Nearly falling, Ethan catches himself just in time. “I’m going to get another drink.”

His brow wrinkles as he straightens, gaze hazy with liquor. “Do you want me to come?”

“Nope, no,” you say, already on the move. “I’ll come find you after.”

Whirling away, you push through the crowd. You won’t find Ethan later, but he doesn’t need to know that. Indeed, when you reach the bar and turn back around, you already find Ethan scoping out a petite blonde in shorts.

Stifling an eye roll, you return to the bartender and order another drink. Seokjin appears at this point, having struck out with his dance partner and in the mood to do shots.

“No,” you groan, accepting the tequila he orders. “Seokjin. Jin. Jinnie. I can’t.”

He snort-laughs, pushing over a lime and salt. “Jinnie. You only call me that when you’re druuunk, Y/N. Are you drunk?”

“No!”

With this, you slam two tequila shots in quick succession and feel your eyes water. Fuck. Maybe that was a bad idea. Oh, well – something for future you to deal with.

“Tonight is a night of celebration, Y/N!” Whooping, Seokjin throws both arms around your waist and lifts you from the floor. “You got the money! Closed the deal! You’re gonna be working with hot Liam!”

You giggle, slapping his shoulder until Seokjin sets you back down.

“Hey,” you say. “We haven’t gotten the money yet, Jinnie. There’s still a whole effing contract that needs to be assigned. I mean, signed.”

“He’ll sign it.” Signaling for the bartender, Seokjin pulls out a black card. “Another two watermelon margaritas. On me.”

You cheer, throwing up your hands as the rooms spins a little. Well, spins a lot but you accept the drink anyways as you move towards the dance floor. Seokjin joins you this time, catching your elbow as you slip on a drink. Damn, there seem to be a lot of spilled drinks around – more than earlier, anyways.

Time blurs, assisted by alcohol. You and Seokjin separate at some point, and you end up in the bathroom, consoling a woman who was recently dumped. Advice ranges from profound (“Well, women are raised to see emotional support as intimacy, and men are raised to see sexual interest as intimacy, so we are where we are”) to the not-so-profound (“Listen, all you need is Pride and Prejudice and a good vibrator”).

By the time you leave the bathroom, the dance floor has partially cleared. Enough for you to realize Hoseok and Olya are still at the railing, looking relatively cozy. Not wanting to interrupt, you turn and spot Seokjin across the bar making out with two people.

Wait – no. That’s only one person.

You might be drunk. Returning to your table, you grab your purse from its hiding spot and pull your phone from your pants. Focusing on getting home, you’re momentarily distracted by the blinking messages.

Jungkook responded to you on Instagram.

He responded hours ago you realize with a wince. Wasn’t Jungkook at some function? You didn’t expect him to keep messaging and yet, he responded several times.

Jungkook: tonight [10:20 PM]

Jungkook: you free? [10:20 PM]

Jungkook: I have to be at this fundraiser a while longer, but I’ll be home around midnight [10:25 PM]

Jungkook: promise you won’t be thinking about how late it is when my face is buried between your perfect thighs [10:29 PM]

Immediately, your entire body clenches and you exhale through your teeth.

There are no other messages but now, your fingers hover over the screen to respond. Glancing around, you find Seokjin still busy in the corner with his make-out partner. Not wanting to disturb, you turn away from the bar.

Y/N: on my way [12:16 AM]

Tossing your phone in your purse, you stride for the door. Well, semi-stride. Your heels are tall and there are puddles of spilled drink everywhere. That must be it; it’s the only explanation for how often you nearly fall.

Outside, you take a deep breath of sea-salted air. Checking the time on your phone and seeing 12:20 AM, you realize Jungkook should be close to being home.

Opening the Lyft app, you order a ride and type in Jungkook’s address (after several verifications). Switching to Instagram, you confirm you did, in fact tell Jungkook you were coming and shut the app. The air is chillier than before, but you’re feeling warm with alcohol wrapped around you.

Time blurs once your Lyft arrives and you spend most of the ride chatting with your driver about the best carnitas places. Before you know it, you’ve at Jungkook’s building and are hopping from the sedan.

His lobby is as glossy and put-together as you remember. You marvel for a moment at the marble façade before coming to your senses and waving hello at the doorman. Recognizing your face – this is your third time here, after all – he smiles and presses a button for entrance.

“You can head up,” he says, nodding to the elevators. “I’ll call Mr. Jeon to let him know you’re on your way.”

“Thank you!” you say, slipping inside the doors.

The ride to Jungkook’s apartment is short, and you check your appearance in the floor to ceiling mirrors. Smoothing down your top, you take a step closer and inspect your make-up. Still relatively fresh, considering the night you’ve had. After reapplying lipstick, you pull out your phone and scan Instagram again.

No response from Jungkook. Not even a read receipt.

You frown, shifting a little but it’s too late to back out. Before you can reconsider, or even press a lower floor, the elevator slows. You have time to look up as it opens, and then you’re inside Jungkook’s apartment.

Brick wall, spiral staircase, floor-to-ceiling windows. The kitchen is partially visible and inside it is Jungkook. Some of your tension drains at the sight.

He’s expecting you. Clearly, he is because there’s an open bottle of wine on the counter, and two glasses beside it.

Exhaling slightly, you glance up and meet Jungkook’s gaze.

He looks… shocked. There’s no better word. Eyes wide, he stares at you in horror while lowering his phone from his ear. Fighting through the haze of tequila, you realize that must have been Jungkook’s doorman calling.

“I – hi,” you say, stepping into his hall. “Sorry, I just realized I should’ve called. I mean, I responded to your DM, but I – oh.”

Oh is the sound made when your entire world tilts, sliding you off it.

Gaze moving past him, you scan Jungkook’s place and realize he’s not alone. There are two wine glasses on the counter because Jungkook isn’t alone.

His date remains seated on his couch in the living room, looking confused. His ridiculously gorgeous date with dark, supple hair, rosebud lips and the tall, slender frame your mother wishes you had. How many times have you heard her bemoan your appearance? Only you could make a mess of body proportions.

You’ve completely fucked this up.

“Ah.” Limbs feeling wobbly, you take a step backwards – into the elevator. “I’m, well, shit – I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize. I’ll leave,” you blurt out, swiftly jabbing the Lobby button. “Ignore me – ignore this, I–”

In a stroke of luck, the doors respond quickly, cutting you off as Jungkook springs into motion.

Inhaling sharply, you bury your face in both hands.

Oh my god. The fucking humiliation. Showing up at Jungkook’s apartment, uninvited – well, kind of invited – and finding another woman there.

Except.

Slowly, you look up and lower your hands. You might be drunk, but you were invited; you remember that much. Chest tightening, you reach into your purse for your phone. Opening Instagram, you see now Jungkook has read your messages. Great.

Glowering, you drop your phone in your bag and glance at yourself in the mirrors. The floors flick by quickly, and you evaluate your appearance with each ticking number.

His date was pretty. No – she was stunning, and you suppose you can’t fault Jungkook for trying to sleep with her. You were the one who made the rules in the first place. You were the one who suggested you sleep with other people.

Even as you think this, you know it’s not the reason you’re mad. 

The word mad is too simple for the emotions you’re feeling. Embarrassed, at having assumed you were his first choice. Naïve, for thinking he’d go home alone. Uncertain, because now you don’t know where you stand with him. Jungkook is without a doubt the best guy in your roster. And now, you have no idea what you are to him.

The thought makes your stomach churn and, when the doors open, you stand there for a moment before coming to your senses.

Entering the lobby, you ignore the surprise of the doorman. You aren’t sure how Jungkook responded when his doorman called to announce your arrival. Whatever transpired, he seems confused by your return.

Reaching the entrance, you pull out your phone to order another ride. The screen zooms in and out, a consequence of the many margaritas you had at the bar. Teeth gritted, you wait until the screen clears before you type in your address. You’re about to press accept when the elevator dings.

In the reflection of the door, you see Jungkook rush out. He pauses, scanning the lobby and – upon seeing you – resumes motion.

“Y/N!” Jungkook calls. “Wait!”

His hair flops, jogging towards you and your heart constricts at the sight. Jungkook is dressed in a tuxedo, albeit with the waistcoat unbuttoned and sans a bowtie. 

Skidding to a stop, he grabs the phone from your hand. “Don’t call a cab,” Jungkook pleads.

Glaring daggers, you reach for your phone. “Furs – first of all, this isn’t the 1950’s. No one ‘calls a cab’ anymore. Second” – lunging, you miss wildly – “you have a girl in your apartment. I’m not trying to join in or watch if that’s what you’re hoping.”

Jungkook’s lips twitch, although all cockiness fades when he sees your expression.

“That’s not what I’m thinking.”

Shaking your head, you hold out a hand. “My phone, please.”

After a moment of hesitation, Jungkook returns your phone to your palm.

“Please stay,” he says, his expression sincere. “I already asked my driver to take Giselle home. She should be gone by now.”

“Giselle,” you scoff. “Wow, sure. My mom would love that name.”

Jungkook stares. “Uh, okay. Do you want to come back up?”

You exhale, stepping backwards – only for your ankle to wobble, necessitating you grab the door’s handle. Jungkook’s brow creases, moving to help but you wave him aside.

“Why would I go back upstairs with you? You invited me to come over and then, what – you forgot?”

“No,” Jungkook insists. “I invited you over, and you didn’t respond for two hours! When my date asked if we could get a drink, I –”

“You were on a date?”

His blinks. “It was a charity thing. My dad paid for two plates. Y/N… are you drunk?”

“I had fun – a few drinks,” you say, brushing his concern aside. “But if Giselle was your date, why were you texting me?”

“You messaged me first, so I responded. And yeah, I would’ve preferred to see you, but you didn’t respond.” Deeply, Jungkook exhales and runs a hand through his hair. “When Giselle asked to see my apartment, I –”

“See your apartment.” You snort. “Nice.”

Limply, his hand falls to his side. “Are you seriously upset I was planning to sleep with someone else? Because these are your rules, Y/N.”

“Rules you agreed to,” you counter. “Rules I haven’t heard you offer to change.”

Disbelief flashes across his expression, though he hides it quickly.

“Yeah.” Jungkook pauses. “I guess you’re right.”

“And I’m not upset about that,” you continue. “I don’t care if you sleep with someone else, but I do care that you thought you could squeeze us in back-to-back! I –”

Loudly, your ringtone cuts through the lobby.

An otherwise silent lobby. Where you’ve been fighting with Jungkook about his sexual habits. Jungkook’s doorman is doing an admirable job of pretending not to hear, but if you were him, you’d be jotting down notes. Remembering your phone, you squint at the screen and can barely make out the name.

Hoseok.

Gesturing to Jungkook for a minute, you press answer.

“Hello?” you say, lifting your phone to your ear.

“Y/N?” It’s noisy in the background, sounding like Hoseok is still at the bar. “Thank fuck. What happened? Where are you? Are you still at Topaz?”

“I – uh, no,” you say, pivoting away. Your heel catches and you stumble, feeling Jungkook’s hand on your waist. “I left, actually.”

“You left?”

You wince again, fully aware Jungkook can hear. “Um, yes,” you say, lowering your voice. “Like twenty minutes ago?”

“Who did you leave with?” Hoseok demands, practically shouting. “That guy you were grinding with on the dance floor?”

In the window, you can see Jungkook stiffen and realize how that sounds. You’re a hypocrite. Had circumstances been different, you might have slept with Ethan and here you are, berating Jungkook for trying to sleep with Giselle.

You’re a ridiculous, drunk hypocrite and he’s going to toss you out on your ass.

“No,” you say through gritted teeth. “I, um, left to…”

For the second time tonight, Jungkook plucks the phone from your hand.

“She’s with me, Hoseok,” he says into the receiver. “Yeah, this is Jungkook.”

On the other end of the phone, you hear Hoseok’s noise of surprise. Scowling, you hop and try to grab your phone. Jungkook ignores this, playing keep-away above your head.

“Okay.” Hoseok recovers. “Look, I don’t really know you, and everything I have heard isn’t that great, but –”

“She’s safe here, I promise.”

Hoseok pauses, and in his silence, you can hear his calculations. You’ve slept with Jungkook multiple times before. At no point have you ever mentioned feeling uncomfortable or unsafe. Jungkook even walked you home that one time from the club.

Each of these data points seems to fall into place, and you hear Hoseok exhale.

“Fine,” he says, still speaking loudly over the noise at the bar. “Y/N was pounding margaritas and apparently took some tequila shots with Seokjin, so – I’LL DEAL WITH YOU LATER!” Hoseok yells, presumably at Seokjin. “Anyways, I’ll be tracking Y/N’s phone, so she better make it home in one piece tomorrow.”

Jungkook’s lips twitch. “She will. I swear.”

“Cool. Tell Y/N to drink water. Seokjin, I’m coming, you ridiculous land mass–”

Hoseok hangs up, leaving only a dial tone.

Clicking end, Jungkook returns your phone to your hand – which you take, scowling darkly.

“Thanks,” you say. “I’m just going to call myself a Lyft, and –”

“Stay.” Jungkook’s voice softens. “Please.”

After a moment, you glance up and can’t seem to look away.

The room is spinning in more ways than one. Maybe that’s why you slowly lower your phone. Or maybe it’s because now that Hoseok mentioned it, you find yourself fairly thirsty. You hope it’s not because of Jungkook’s sincerity that you find yourself reconsidering.

“Fine,” you mutter. “But just for one glass of water.”

Striding past him, you head for the elevator. Jungkook catches up quickly, waving at the doorman to let you both up. You avoid eye contact as you pass, embarrassed by your earlier display in the lobby.

Once the doors have shut and you’re alone, you take a pointed step sideways and lean one shoulder to the wall.

Saying nothing, Jungkook relaxes against the mirror and crosses his arms. From the corner of your eye, you watch him survey you.

“I’m sorry,” you say at last, filling the silence. “I was… surprised when I got here and found someone else, and I – well, yeah. We said we’d keep this casual.”

Still, Jungkook stays silent, his expression inscrutable.

“Like you said,” you continue, babbling like an idiot. “We agreed to sleep with other people.”

This appears to be the last straw.

Pushing himself off the wall, Jungkook walks forward and comes to a stop right before you. After a beat, you look up and feel your mind go blank. He looks good. More than good and without thinking, you close your eyes and inhale.

Dimly, you wonder what cologne he wears because he smells so much better than Ethan did at the bar. On instinct, you lean in to get a better whiff. Your nose, then your lips brush his clavicle and in response, Jungkook stiffens.

“Sorry,” you blurt, eyes flying open when you realize what you’ve done. “You just… smell good, that’s all. Really good. Better than – well. Never mind.”

A lone muscle ticks in his jaw.

Realizing how close you two are, you try to move backwards – and Jungkook reaches out, wrapping a hand around your wrist.

“Better than the guy you were dancing with?” he asks lowly.

Casually, Jungkook steps between your thighs and presses you against the mirror. The sudden coldness makes you suck in a breath, nipples tightening beneath your sheer blouse. Jungkook’s body is warm, solid as his thumb skims the inside of your wrist.

“Maybe,” you whisper.

His smile is lazy. “Was he not enough for you, princess? Did you remember halfway I’m the only one who can make you come as hard as I can?”

Slowly, you swallow, and you watch Jungkook’s gaze lower.

“He was fine,” you manage to say.

“Fine?”

“More than fine.”

“What happened to fine?”

Your brow furrows. “I wouldn’t get cocky,” you huff. “I can’t help but notice you got rid of what’s-her-face the second I came over.”

Jungkook’s lips twitch. “I’m not ashamed of it,” he murmurs. “You’re the sweetest fuck I’ve ever had, and you deserve to know that. Not tonight, though,” he adds, almost an afterthought. “Not when you’re drunk and I’m sober.”

The elevator doors open and, as soon as he hears them, Jungkook steps away. You sag against the mirror, feeling strangely empty as he walks into the apartment.

Kicking off his shoes, Jungkook shrugs from his tuxedo jacket to drape over an armchair. Coming to a stop in his kitchen, he opens the door to the fridge.

“What do you want?” Jungkook calls. “I stocked up on food since the last time you came, so now I have ramen.”

Coming to your senses, you step out of the elevator before the doors close. Slipping from your heels, you leave these by his loafers and drop your purse on the floor.

In the sharp light of Jungkook’s apartment, you realize he’s right – you’re drunk. Everything seems to sway as you take a seat at his counter. Willing the world to stop moving, you take a deep breath.

Glancing over his shoulder, Jungkook’s eyes widen at your face. “You okay, Y/N?” he asks, shutting the door. “Do you need to puke?”

“No,” you say, hanging your head.

“You sure?”

Jungkook makes soft retching noises, and you feel your lips twitch.

“No,” you exhale. “But if you keep doing that, I’m going to puke in your Prada loafers.”

He laughs, turning to grab a glass from a cabinet. Setting this down on the counter, Jungkook fills it with water from a container.

“Drink,” he urges, sliding this towards you. “I’ll go get you Motrin.”

You accept the glass, mostly because the thought of throwing up in Jungkook’s apartment is beyond humiliating. Worse than coming over to hook up and finding him with someone else. By the time you finish the glass, Jungkook has returned and you’re feeling slightly better.

He’s changed, exchanging his tux for a t-shirt and sweatpants. Fear of God, you note – you wouldn’t be surprised if the simple beige t-shirt cost him four hundred dollars. Ridiculously expensive, not to mention soft. You’re immediately consumed by daydreams of burying your face in his chest.

Startled by the thought, you look up and find his gaze on you.

Jungkook lifts a brow. “So. Ramen?”

You nod, feeling dazed and he turns back around. Opening cupboards, Jungkook searches until he locates the right pot. Seated at the counter, you watch Jungkook bring the pot to the sink, turn on the faucet and wait for it to fill.

An inkling of discomfort stirs within you. “You don’t have to do that,” you say. “I know you told Hoseok I was here, but I can go home. I can Uber or something. Jimin is watching Dante all night, but I can leave. You know, sleep it off.”

Jungkook ignores this, turning off the faucet and carrying the pot to the stove. Ripping open ramen packets, he sprinkles these into the water.

“Y/N.” His biceps strain while he works. “I seriously don’t mind.”

“But you were about to get laid.”

“I can get laid anytime.”

“Sure, but you were about to get laid tonight.”

Jungkook gives you a wry look. “As nice as it is you’re concerned about my dick, why don’t you let me speak for it – okay?”

Begrudgingly, you sit back and nod. Shaking his head, Jungkook returns to his stove, but you can tell that he’s smiling. Satisfied by the temperature, he moves to the fridge and pulls out eggs, chopped scallions and cheese.

“Besides,” Jungkook adds, “the ego boost of you coming over tonight will last me for months.”

Groaning out loud, you slump to the counter.

Jungkook cracks up, and you lift your head to smile. The glass of water you drank seems to have worked its miracle, moving you from wasted to merely debauched. It’s a state in which your verbal capacity seems to know no limitations.

“You want me to really boost your ego?” you tease him, propping your chin on your fist. “Since you said I’m the best fuck you ever had?”

“Yeah,” he says, lips curling upward. “Boost my ego, I can take it.”

“Hm.” You sniff. “Well then, you should know you’re the same. Bar none. Actually – throw out the bar. You’re the bar. Fuck, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that first night. You were right, you know? No one else has even come close.”

Jungkook freezes at the stove, one hand on his pot. His pupils dilate so far, his eyes are nearly black, and the lines of his shoulders have gone suddenly rigid.

Finally, he moves, forcing an exhale from his lips.

“A lesser man” – Gruffly, Jungkook adds noodles – “would ignore his moral code, bend you over the counter and fuck you right now.”

You go utterly still.

You want that. You want Jungkook to be inside you so bad, your thighs are pressed together in an effort not to react. Also because you would fall if you stood – but mostly to keep yourself from climbing over the counter.

Glancing up, Jungkook catches your gaze, and you can tell he doesn’t care. He’s not going to give into you tonight. Not like this.

Jungkook is a good guy.

The thought takes you by surprise, hitting you with all the subtlety of a bolt of lightning. He’s trying so hard to maintain your boundaries and the moment you realize this, an inner wall crumbles.

You’ve had it up for so long you barely noticed its presence. The result of many failed relationships, some worse than others. Your walls keep you safe, gatekeeping access to your most tender parts. It isn’t just Jungkook and his connection to your parents that scares you – although that’s certainly part of it. Honestly, it’s been a long time since you let anyone in, regardless of who they were.

You realize all this in a moment, and then Jungkook looks down.

“But I won’t,” he declares, thrusting his spoon in the air. “Because I’m a strong man who can’t be brought down by one woman’s vagina.”

“You sure?”

“No.” He gives you a pointed look. “So, stop tempting me.”

Unable to help it, you grin, and he stares at you a moment – until you push away from the counter and nearly fall off the stool.

“Shit,” Jungkook blurts, darting forward.

“I’m fine!” you say, catching yourself. “Promise, I’m fine.”

Jungkook halts his trajectory but looks at you warily while returning to the stove. “I’m cooking as fast as I can,” he insists. “I’m trying to get food in your stomach, so I need you to help me out and not die before then.”

“I’ll try!”

Despite his words, Jungkook’s lips twitch as he returns to the stove. You’d offer to help – soft boil the eggs, prepare the bowls – but you’re worried if you stand, your feet might not hold. Safter to stay put and avoid the embarrassment of having Jungkook save you twice.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to need your help, anyways. For someone with a formerly bare fridge, he’s doing surprisingly well. Once the noodles are finished, he spoons some into each bowl, topping both with generous helpings of cheese and green onions.

Sliding one across the counter, he hands over chopsticks and a spoon – and then promptly slaps your wrist when you try to eat.

“Hey!” you blurt, outraged.

“It’s too hot,” Jungkook says, coming around the corner. “You’ll burn your tongue, and then what?”

“I’ll have a burnt tongue.”

“Such a smart-ass,” he grumbles, taking the seat beside yours.

After a few minutes, Jungkook proclaims the bowls ready and you both dig in. For a while the kitchen is full of the soft sounds of slurping. Suddenly ravenous, you inhale half the bowl in the time it takes Jungkook to eat only a quarter. Noticing, he glances over and laughs at the disparity.

You shrug, unconcerned and drain your bowl before he can. By the time Jungkook finishes, you’re starting to droop over his nice marble counter. It seems with water and food, the next step for your weary body is sleep and you care little about having an appropriate surface.

Drowsily, you gesture from the counter. “Jungkook” – you yawn – “if I don’t find a bed soon, I’m going to be passed out on your floor within the next fifteen minutes.”

He sets his spoon in the bowl. “I see.”

“Right. So, I need to leave now. Or you won’t be able to move me until morning. Unless you carry me. Which might be bad for your back.”

“Or,” Jungkook counters. “We could go with the obvious solution.”

“Which is?”

“You could stay the night.”

Frozen, your feet swing from his bar stool. “I… what?”

“You could stay here tonight.” Grabbing both bowls, Jungkook returns to the kitchen to place these in the dishwasher. “I have a bunch of extra bedrooms, so you don’t have to stay in mine if you don’t want to. As long as you don’t mind wearing my clothes.”

You continue to stare, sorting through the responses in your head.

“Or you can wear your own clothes, I guess.” Jungkook hesitates. “Or sleep naked. I don’t really know how you – I mean, we haven’t…”

“Your clothes would be nice,” you finish for him.

Jungkook pauses, then nods as he turns away.

“No problem,” he calls, heading down the hall. “Why don’t you come grab a t-shirt?”

Tentatively, you lower a foot to the floorboards. The wood feels even beneath your toes, and your head feels somewhat clearer, so you lower the second foot and let go of the counter.

Satisfied with your balance, you follow Jungkook down the hall and pause in his doorway. He’s bent over his dresser, rummaging around and offering a grade-A view of his posterior. Leaning your shoulder to the doorway, you feel content watching until he glances your way.

“Will this work?” Jungkook straightens with a t-shirt.

Your mouth dries a little. The shirt is large, dwarfing his sizeable hands as Jungkook crosses the room. Something squeezes your chest when he comes to a stop.

He’s too close.

He’s too close and too much and your heart feels like it’s burning.

Reaching for the t-shirt, you fail to make eye contact as your fingertips brush. Instead, you hold the material against your body and glance to where the hem nearly falls to your knees.

“What do you think,” you say, glancing up.

Jungkook stares.

Unspoken words fill the air between you, ones you’re too drunk – or not drunk enough – to say, and ones he refuses to articulate. Maybe because you’re the only one feeling like this. Or maybe because Jungkook is a nice guy, and he’s just being nice to you right now. Him being silent has nothing to do with how you look, or how much you like his biceps, or the tension between you.

Jungkook can’t seem to stop staring at his t-shirt on your body, though. When he swallows, the sound is audible.

“That works,” he rasps.

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, you nod and turn around. Striding towards the bathroom, you struggle to clear your mind. Although you meant to tease Jungkook, you find your own knees are trembling. You’re drunk, you remind yourself as you exit his room.

“Can I take a shower?” you call, placing his shirt on the counter.

Jungkook is quiet for so long, you wonder if he heard.

“Yes,” he calls at last, sounding strained. “Bath products are in the far cabinet. Take what you need. Do you… are you good to shower alone?”

The words sound like they pain him, and you hide a smile as you turn around.

“I’m okay,” you say. “Be right out.”

Closing the door, you hear a low groan from his side of the bedroom. Stepping away, you strip off your clothes. Despite what you just said, you’re still pretty drunk and it’d be just your luck to fall in the shower.

Opening the cabinet he mentioned, you pull out a clip and secure your hair. Finished, you turn on the shower and step into the spray. Cranking the temperature as high as it goes, you grab a cloth and lather your arms. Careful to keep your head dry, you rinse away the dank smell of the bar.

By the time you’re done, your head feels considerably lighter. Drying yourself off with a towel – holy shit, that’s soft – you slip on Jungkook’s t-shirt and stare at yourself in the mirror. It hangs down to your knees and would be decent if it weren’t for the way it clings to wet skin.

Searching Jungkook’s cabinets, you locate face cleanser and remove your makeup. Adding moisturizer, you pat your cheeks dry and open the door.

Seated on his bed, Jungkook looks up and goes visibly still. Slowly, his gaze travels your body, lingering in places which make your cheeks heat.

“Ah.” His throat works as he swallows. “You look… good.”

Gradually, his expression moves from lust to something more. Something new and vulnerable, which terrifies you enough that you turn away.

“So,” you say, bundling your clothes in your arms. “Are the other bedrooms… upstairs?”

“Yeah.” Recovering fast, Jungkook nods. “Follow me.”

He stands, leaving a dip in his mattress your eyes can’t help but stray to.

He probably would’ve let you stay if you asked, but now it’s too late. Suppressing the urge to backtrack, you follow him down the hall and into the main room. Realizing you’ve yet to see the second level, you feel your curiosity pique as you climb the stairs. These end in a long hall which stretches the entire length of the building.

Glancing over his shoulder, Jungkook explains as he walks. “That’s my game room,” he says, pointing out a room with black-out curtains. “Media room is next, then the gym, another guest room, my office… and this is my favorite,” he says, pushing open a door at the end of the hall.

Jungkook holds it open, allowing you to walk past and once inside, you falter.

His bedroom downstairs looks over the city, but this room faces the mountains to the east. Even at night you can see their stark shadows and you’re sure in the morning, the sunrise is gorgeous.

One wall has been papered in black and white, broken only by the gigantic bed pushed up against it. Gauzy curtains cover the windows, framed by several plants in glazed ceramic pots. A small chandelier dangles over the bed and slowly, you turn in a circle.

“It’s beautiful,” you say. Curious, you glance at Jungkook. “Whose room is this? It doesn’t really look like your… vibe.”

Jungkook’s cheeks redden. “No one’s, really. I helped the designer with it. And my room, of course, but I wanted this room to be different. Homier.”

Nodding, you turn and run a hand over the ottoman. Despite the obvious luxury – silk pillowcases, golden trim on the mirror – it feels more lived-in. Not as cold as the rest of Jungkook’s place. Placing your clothes on the dresser, you become distracted by the view.

Pulling back the curtain, you stare out at the mountains and wonder if this is all a dream.

“It’s really nice,” you murmur.

“I’m glad you like it.”

There’s relief in Jungkook’s voice, but you can’t focus on it for long. Glancing over your shoulder, you lift a brow.

“I’m sure everyone who stays here has told you that.”

Shrugging, he steps away from the door. “I wouldn’t know. You’re the first person to stay here.”

His words are startling, and something unravels inside you as he crosses the room. Coming to a stop right before you, Jungkook’s fingers twitch at his side. Your own heart is pounding, feeling lopsided and strange.

Jungkook hesitates, then lifts a hand to lightly skim your jaw. Unable to look at him, your eyes flutter shut.

You’ve never kissed.

The thought occurs to you suddenly, reminding you in no uncertain terms of your agreement. Well, you kind of kissed the first night in his car, but that was barely a brush. You haven’t kissed since then, an unspoken line and now, you can’t help but wonder what his lips would taste like. What a kiss would feel like with his arms wrapped around you.

Shakily, he exhales, and Jungkook’s breath ghosts your lips. Steeling yourself, you tilt your chin higher – and feel his soft lips brush your forehead.

A kiss you could have taken.

A kiss you were prepared for, but the tenderness in his gesture causes your eyes to water. Jungkook’s fingers linger on your jaw before he pulls back, hand dropping to his side. 

When you open your eyes, his expression seems almost startled.

“Goodnight,” Jungkook says.

You stare as he leaves, watching him with wide eyes while he shuts the door. The world beneath you has tilted, and you’re no longer certain how to find your way out.

Sunlight wakes you the next morning.

Gauzy curtains block some of the light but eventually it can’t be ignored, and you find your eyes opening. For a moment, you’re confused by your surroundings. Across the room is a dresser, a gilded mirror above it to reflect wallpaper over your head.

Yawning, you sit up and wince at the taste in your mouth. Despite this, your head feels remarkably clear given the amount of liquor you drank. Probably thanks to the water and Motrin Jungkook gave you last night.

Last night. Jungkook.

All at once, memories hit you. This is Jungkook’s apartment. Last night, you showed up drunk at his apartment, scared his guest away and crashed in his room. Stifling a groan, you lower your forehead to the four-hundred thread count organic sheets. You recognize them from Seokjin’s apartment.

Once your shame has subsided, you lift your head. The room is as beautiful as it was last night, and Jungkook’s words return about you being its first inhabitant. You suppose this makes sense. Jungkook rarely stays at his place, and you imagine when women do stay over, they sleep in his room.

Swinging your legs to the side, you stand from his bed. Padding into the attached bathroom, you blink at the sunken tub resting in the corner. You suppose you could have showered here last night, but in your drunken state, Jungkook’s room was closest.

For someone who doesn’t entertain often, Jungkook sure has a place built for it. Locating a treasure trove of facial products in a drawer, you wash your face and brush your teeth with a disposable toothbrush. Feeling infinitely fresher, you step from the bathroom and tug on the hem of Jungkook’s t-shirt in the mirror.

Wishing you had pants, or even a change of underwear, you exhale and realize you’ll need to borrow sweats to go home. Unless you change back into your own clothes, but those remain covered in the scent of the bar.

Cracking open the door in his t-shirt, you peer down the hall and wonder if Jungkook is up. Your phone has died – Hoseok is probably worried sick – so you’ll need to borrow a charger, as well.

Stepping out of your room, you close the door softly behind you. Most of the hall’s doorways are shut, but you glance into the open ones you pass. Jungkook’s office, another bedroom – dimly, you recall the tour from last night.

Nearing the staircase, you hear muffled music from a door near the end. There are other noises, as well – thwacks and grunts which sound like Jungkook.

Hesitantly, you place one hand on the door. After a moment of debate, you push it open a crack and immediately regret your decision.

Jungkook is boxing.

He’s shirtless, muscles gleaming and tattoos rippling with each punch he lands. A weighted dummy sits before him and, both feet planted, Jungkook goes through his practice routine. Right punch, left, right, right – duck – right, left, right-left.

You realize you’re staring when he glances up and spots you in the mirror.

“Y/N!” he calls.

Eyes wide, you try to back out but realize it’s too late – you’ve been seen.

Turning around, Jungkook’s chest heaves as his gloves fall to his sides. Music continues to play, a heavy beat blasting throughout the relatively small space. Making a one-second gesture, Jungkook jogs across the room and presses the button to stop.

“Hey,” Jungkook pants, still catching his breath as he turns around. “Sorry about that. Did I wake you?”

“I – no. Not at all.”

Glancing away from him, you look down the hall. You aren’t sure why eye contact is so difficult right now. This is Jungkook. He’s seen you naked. Fucked you into incoherency. There’s no reason to be shy and yet, for some reason you’re having difficulty stringing two words together.

You haven’t seen him like this. You’ve never stayed the night, so you’ve never seen him first thing in the morning. Jungkook’s face is slightly puffy, a partially formed pimple at the base of his hairline. He looks so raw, so real it takes your breath away.

Knowing this to be dangerous territory, you repeat to yourself every reason this couldn’t work. Jungkook works for a company you despise. Not just works for – he owns the company, more or less. His parents know your parents, and you know damn well dating someone from their world never ends well. Even if they seem different, men raised in households like this feel they’re entitled to everything, including people. You’ve lived the experience of that first-hand.

Despite this, a kernel of doubt plants itself in your mind.

“Do you… have a charger?” you ask at last, turning back.

Jungkook’s hands pause, unwrapping his gloves. He looks at you and there’s something to his expression which makes you wonder if he understands more than he lets on.

“Yeah.” Jungkook doesn’t falter. “I have a charger you can use. Do you… need anything else?”

There’s a slight challenge to his words, heating your insides and making your own words sound foreign as they leave your lips.

“No,” you hear yourself say. “Nothing more.”

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed :) I do not have a tag list, so please do not ask to be added or ask about updates. My writing progress can be found on my updates schedule, linked in both my header and FAQ!

[ Series Master List ]

© kpopfanfictrash, 2022. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[ronearoundblindly]

For Sweet Sunday, Steve just loving your laugh.

Ah, so simple, so sweet, but like...actually sugary 😉 WC ~570

Sweet Charity

It’s like an addiction; Steve will do almost anything to make you laugh. The Team is close to tossing him out of the airlock if he pulls out another atrocious dad-joke, but to Steve, it’s so worth it because you laugh. Every. Time.

He may have gone a bit far this time though.

Tony proposed a fundraiser, which in itself is not unusual, but the theme for this one would be carnival events with the Avengers. Tony had already written Steve in for the Kissing Booth—in pen, Stark pointed out, not pencil—because it was obvious how much money he could make…and because Steve is immune to disease…and because no one could claim sexual harassment. It’s Steve Rogers. He literally can’t even say someone’s name without triple-checking that’s what they want to be called.

No. Steve said no. He wanted to be at the Pie Toss. He wanted to be at the Pie Toss right across from the Dunk Tank which—incidentally—is where you’re stationed, and for the first three minutes, Steve basked in your thrilled and giddy laugh.

The water was so cold on your feet. Squeal. The jerk kid who taunted you missed his shot. Cackle. First dunk, and you come up whipping the water from your hair and joyously giggling.

Smack!

First pie to the face, too.

Steve licks whipped cream from his mouth and congratulates the little girl who did better than her dad. He scrapes the mess from over his eyes and realizes he can’t see very well through the sweet goo all over him. He can still hear though, so Steve’s having the time of his life. As long as your laugh rings out every minute or two, he’s got a permanent grin plastered on his face next to  the hardening, sticky mess. He couldn’t care less how many pies he takes to the face or how much of the melting cream drips down his clothes. It’s just a great day.

Scott tries to come give him a break, but Steve refuses. He’s not hungry. He’s not tired. He takes a few sips of the water bottle beside him, but other than that, he won’t leave the stool.

It’s dusk by the time there is genuinely too much whipped cream on him to see or breath properly, so Steve rubs what he can off with a towel handed to him.

“Only one more, Cap.”

He peels open his white eyelashes to see you, holding a pie a safe distance behind you, a wicked tuck in your cheek as you stifle a grin.

“What did the cherry say to the cherry pie?”

Steve beams. “Dunno. What?”

Your hand comes up to pick bits out of his hair. “You’ve got some crust on you.”

It’s Steve’s turn to laugh, but he shouldn’t have caved. His mouth open wide, you smoosh the pie right into his face. He sputters a bit after the remnant tin crumples to the ground, raising his towel to clean up again.

“Wait,” he hears you say just as you push his hand away. “I can help.”

He nearly croaks out a protest before your tongue—if he’s not mistaken by the feel of wet, firm, controlled muscle—precisely sweeps from corner to corner of his mouth.

“Been wanting to do that all day,” you giggle, and it’s 100% worth being tossed out an airlock or drowned in whipped cream for.

[Light Masterlist; Main Masterlist]

[k-evans-reads]

Playing With Fire

Chapter 8

Summary: After a change of heart nearly ten years into her career as a pediatric intensive care unit nurse, Ellie Maxwell has moved back home and returned to her old job at the local bakery, where the regulars are the firefighters from down the street. When sparks begin to fly between Ellie and the guarded, closed-off Chris, will anything come of it?

Pairing: Firefighter!Chris Evans X OFC Elizabeth “Ellie” Maxwell

Word Count: 10,178

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: 18+.

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A knock echoed on the door of the bakery, Ellie lifting her head and smiling widely when she saw the familiar face through the pane of glass in the door. Hurrying over, she unlocked the door, letting Chris in from the cold before closing it back behind him. She still had the broom in her hand when Chris swiftly pulled her against his frame and kissed her so deeply she was almost out of breath when he parted from her lips. 

She opened her eyes to see his own staring at her, Ellie raising her eyebrows as she told him, “Well hi to you too.”

“Sorry, it’s just been way too long since I’ve been able to do that,” Chris admitted with a shake of his head, and Ellie had to agree. They’d had a quick breakfast date the previous Sunday with plans to get together while Hazel was in school on Tuesday and Wednesday, but the snow storm ruined those plans as Chris spent every minute of Tuesday and Wednesday running around with Hazel at home. 

But while some things didn’t go to plan, the best part of her week was when Chris surprised her on Monday by bringing Hazel by the bakery unexpectedly. Ellie only expected to meet Hazel after several weeks - or even months - of them dating, and while Chris only introduced her as a “friend” to Hazel, it still meant the world to Ellie, and she knew it meant the same to Chris by seeing the look in his eyes the entire time. 

“I certainly didn’t mind,” she laughed, locking the door again before she turned and reached for her AirPods, putting them back in the case before she walked towards the broom and dustpan. “I’m almost done cleaning up and then we can go.” 

But Chris - who still had damp hair sticking to the nape of his neck from his shower - rushed over and told her, “Here, I’ll sweep.” 

She stepped aside, letting him sweep as she finished changing the last of the trash bags from the trash cans around the bakery. “How was your shift today?” She asked, turning and glancing over to him. He was dressed in a sweater and jeans with sneakers on, something she knew he didn’t keep at the firehouse. He tended to get off work on Saturdays before she did, which clearly had left him time to run home and change - and drop Dodger off - before he came here.

His back was to her as he shrugged, Ellie watching as the muscles beneath his sweater shifted with the movement. “A little rough… we had a fire in that old abandoned building over on the edge of town and that one was tough to get out but other than that, it’s been pretty uneventful,” he told her, then turned and shot her a wry smile as he made his way back over to her and admitted, “Pretty glad to be here with you now though.” 

“I am too, baby,” she whispered, leaning up to peck his cheek before she grabbed the dustpan, dumping the crumbs and trash into the open trash bag. Then, she tied the bag off, turning to double-check the bathroom was clean and ready for the Sunday crowds.

“So any thoughts on what you’d like to do tonight?” Chris called as he leaned his hip against the counter, his voice carrying down the short hallway into the open door of the kitchen where Ellie was putting on her coat so that she could take the trash to the dumpster. “I’m not picking up Hazel until tomorrow morning because Ashlee took her to New York today to go to an aquarium so they won’t be back until late. So I have time for whatever you want to do.” 

“I’m mostly just hungry,” she laughed and she could hear Chris’ own laughter and she opened the door, crossing the few short feet to the dumpster before she threw the trash in and came back inside. 

Chris’ tall slender frame appeared in the open doorway while Ellie was washing her hands for the last time, a small sideways grin on his face. “You know I can always eat,” he whispered, before he suddenly turned his head and narrowed his eyes, then they widened as he turned back and told her quickly, “Hey Ellie, your phone is ringing.” 

“Sorry, I’m just going to take this really quick,” she replied, brushing past him and reaching for her phone from where she left it on the counter. She smiled at the name that was showing, putting the phone up to her ear as she said, “Hi Mom, how are you?” 

Her mom’s warm voice filled Ellie’s ear as Diana asked, “I’m good, how are you? Are you still at work?” 

“Yeah, just finishing closing up,” Ellie replied, turning around and smiling as Chris gave her a small grin before he looked away, busying himself with his phone.

“Oh perfect! Amanda is taking Nathan to a little swim class tomorrow afternoon so we were going to do family dinner tonight. Dad’s got the brisket almost finished and I made your favorite cornbread muffins and macaroni and cheese.” 

“That sounds so good but I can’t make it tonight. Chris just got here and we were going to go out,” she explained, her eyes moving to glance out the windows before they moved back to Chris’ frame.

“You could bring him over if you want,” Diana said quietly, trailing off a bit before - at Ellie’s silence - she excitedly added, “You know that we all want to meet him!” 

“I don’t know Mom,” Ellie whispered, turning to face away from Chris as she admitted to her mom, knowing about Chris’ worries and past which had led them to take things slow, “I think it might be too early.” 

Without judgement or hesitation, her beloved mother rolled with the punches and replied, “Okay, well I’ll make sure to save you some leftovers.” 

“Thanks Mom, I’ll come over tomorrow, okay? I love you,” Ellie told her before they hung up, Ellie turning back around and seeing Chris raising an eyebrow at her from where he was standing next to the oversized windows near the door and the hall to the bathroom and kitchen. 

“Everything okay?” He asked with a casual and even tone, his face unchanging as he looked at her. 

“Yeah, it was just my mom. She was just calling to invite me over for dinner,” she shook her head and explained, “We normally all have dinner together on Sunday evening but they’re doing it tonight.” 

He shrugged, his expression shifting as he told her, “You can go if you want, I don’t mind.” 

“Well they invited you too but I told them we have plans,” Ellie added with a slightly tense grin, her face flushing.

“I don’t know that we really do,” he admitted with a chuckle, then reassured her, “We can go if you want to, Ellie.”

“Chris, I really don’t want to have to meet my whole family tonight. I know that’s a big step.” 

“I know, but I’d like to,” he insisted, moving from where he was standing next to the door to stand in front of Ellie behind the counter, facing her. 

“...Are you sure?” 

“Well I mean, I overheard there was brisket so that kind of sold me,” he chuckled, his face scrunching up. 

Knowing that this was his way of saying he was ready to take another step with her, Ellie wrapped her arms around his firm waist, looking up into his eyes for a long moment before she pressed a soft kiss to his lips, saying so many things without a word. Once they parted, Ellie grabbed her purse and Chris made sure he had his keys before they left the cozy bakery, Chris suggesting that she just ride with him on the way out to the tree farm where she directed him along a small dirt road alongside the tree farm until they reached the quaint farmhouse sitting in back that made Ellie feel warm from the inside out everytime she laid eyes on it. 

She couldn’t help but feel a little bit nervous, unsure how all of this would go. It still was all so new with Ellie getting to know Chris, not to mention the fact she met Hazel this week, but their discussion about taking things slow and not rushing anything from last week was still in the back of her mind. Chris still had walls up - not only around her, but around everyone who wasn’t Hazel or his brother - and although they’d made progress since then, she was worried that this could be too much too quickly.

If there was one thing that Ellie didn’t want, it was to scare him away. There was something different between them, something she hadn’t fully felt before and she didn’t want to lose that or give up on the possibilities of what could be. It wasn’t a secret to her that her family was a little unsure about Chris, with good reason, because of how it all had started with him hiding his past and Hazel, and she felt apprehension in her gut about how they could perceive him, or honestly how Chris would perceive them and possibly cause his walls to go right back up. 

But at the end of the day, she knew that she didn’t have control over it and had to let it be what it was, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t feel that knot inside her stomach when she came walking in the front door with Chris at her side. The lively conversation that was happening in the home immediately stopped when they stepped inside, all eyes landing on Chris before her mother happily announced, “You came!” 

“You know you’ll always get me when you mention your macaroni and cheese,” Ellie laughed, reaching to pull her coat off and hang it on the hook, then placed her hand on Chris’ thick bicep and introduced him, “But I want everyone to meet Chris and Chris, this is my family.” 

“It was really nice of you to include me tonight,” Chris told them with a shy smile on his face, the nervous look in his eyes that Ellie recognized from their first interactions together.

“We’re so glad you were able to come!” Diana smiled, moving through the cramped kitchen past the dining table from Ellie’s childhood to hug Chris tightly.

“Chris I know I’ve told you before but now that you have a face to the name, this is my mother Diana and that’s my dad, Brett,” Ellie told him, her voice soft as she pointed to her father. “Then this is my brother Daniel, his wife Amanda and this is my adorable baby nephew Nathan.” 

Chris smiled at them, the nervous look staying in the back of his eyes as he said, “It’s really nice to meet you all.” 

Ellie’s older brother had a smirk on his face as he reached for his beer, telling Chris, “We’re glad to meet you too, Ellie won’t shut up about you.” 

“Daniel!” Ellie quickly interjected, her cheeks flushing as Chris laughed, his nose scrunching with amusement. 

Brett quietly grabbed a beer from the fridge and offered it to Chris and he and Ellie moved into the kitchen more. Ellie was preoccupied with shooting daggers at her older brother, who was raising his hands innocently and saying, “What? It’s true.” 

“Ignore Daniel, he’s an idiot,” Ellie told Chris, shaking her head. “But my dad will be happy someone else is here to appreciate his brisket. It’s the one thing he cooks really well so he’s pretty proud of it.” 

“Hey, I made that turkey one time!” 

“Yeah and we practically had to use a chainsaw to cut through it because it was so tough,” Diana remembered, patting Brett’s shoulder as she moved past him to get another bottle of wine open, Ellie nodding when her mother silently asked her if she wanted any.

Amanda, who was holding baby Nathan in her lap, said with a smirk, “That was like four years ago and I still don’t think my stomach has fully digested it.” 

“Okay I think everyone needs to keep their sarcastic comments to themselves for once and get a seat at the table,” Brett cut them off, the laughter silencing as everyone moved to the table, where Ellie was helping Daniel add two extra places for herself and Chris.

They all sat down, Ellie watching fondly as Amanda and Daniel got Nathan situated in his high chair at one end of the table, just as Diana began passing around food for everyone.

“Chris, we’re so excited you could join us for dinner and get a chance to meet you,” Diana told him, glancing at him as she passed Ellie the salad. “Ellie said you’ve been here before.” 

He nodded from next to Ellie, and Ellie couldn’t help but squeeze his hand underneath the table comfortingly as she served herself some salad. She wanted to reassure him that they wouldn’t judge him, wouldn’t think he was anything beyond what he showed them to be, but she knew his mind was already beyond that. His voice wavered a bit in the beginning as he replied, “Yeah, my family always comes to your tree farm every year to get our Christmas tree. In fact, we were here just a few weeks ago getting our tree. We always love the ones we get from your farm.” 

Her father nodded as well from the head of the table, where he was sitting across from his grandson. “Well I’m certainly glad to hear that,” the man smiled, but then smirked and added, “And if you’re just lying to me to make a good impression, I accept that too.” 

“Chris, I know your sister Carly,” Amanda began to speak, turning her attention away from where Nathan was munching on some mac and cheese to look at Chris. “I’m the second grade teacher at Lakewood so I’ve met her a few times at staff meetings.” 

“Oh really? My sister loves that school and so do I,” he smiled, and it was the first genuine expression she’d seen on his face since they arrived, but the hint of tension and nerves remained.  “My daughter goes to preschool at Lakewood.” 

“How does your daughter like it?” 

“Oh she loves it,” he said easily before he shrugged, explaining,  “Hazel doesn’t have any siblings so she loves being around other kids. She told me the other day that the only bad part about preschool is that she can’t bring our dog, Dodger, to school with her.” 

Brett huffed out a laugh, shaking his head and pointing a finger at Ellie as he told Chris, “That sounds just like Ellie when she was a kid.” 

Ellie’s brother and parents began trading stories from Ellie’s childhood, of her misadventures at school, home, and around the farm. Chris laughed louder at each and every story, shaking his head as he admitted that they did sound just like Hazel - to everyone’s amusement. And while he often reverted back into himself as the conversation shifted to every new topic, Ellie enjoyed getting to see the way he navigated this evening. 

Although Ellie could tell how nervous Chris was from seeing the look in his eyes and his stiff body language throughout the early evening. She didn’t blame him for feeling that way with this dinner being sprung on him so suddenly, but it made her happy to see the tension leaving his shoulders and his expressions relaxing as the night went on. This wasn’t the first time Ellie had brought a boyfriend home, sitting in this exact same position but she hadn’t ever felt this level of comfort and felt that something was so right, especially this early on. Ellie already could tell that this was going to last. 

Tucking a piece of her wavy blonde hair behind her ear, she turned to look at Chris as he was sitting there happily listening to a story her father was telling and something struck her for the first time. She realized for the first time since meeting him that the handsome firefighter that sat next to her - who was a year and a half younger than her - didn’t seem older than her. Normally Chris carried so much on his shoulders from being a single parent to then going into a high stress job. He had been through so much in his twenty-eight years of life, and those experiences had only made him lean into growth and persevering through them all. 

But in this moment, he seemed like a normal twenty-eight year old, sitting with an arm resting on the top of Ellie’s chair, the other slapping against his chest as he wildly laughed at the ending of her father’s story. The weight of responsibility was gone from his face, replaced with nothing but contentment and it made Ellie want nothing more than to bring some of that peace to his life, lifting some of that heavy weight off his shoulders. The only thought that flashed through Ellie’s brain was just how much she loved this… just how much she was starting to love him. She knew she was falling and boy was she falling fast, but Ellie didn’t want to stop it because she wasn’t afraid of falling in deep for him. 

“Okay, I think it’s time for some cake,” Diana sighed as she pushed herself up, heading into the kitchen, where she grabbed the cake cutter from a drawer, just as Daniel excused himself to use the bathroom. 

Amanda sat up in her chair from where she was holding a babbling Nathan. “Oh, I brought some fresh strawberries too! I’ll go get them from the car,” she offered, then met Chris’ eyes and asked, “Chris, would you mind holding Nate while I go out?” 

“I’d love to,” Chris smiled, Ellie’s heart stopping as he reached for the baby, holding him in his thick arms. The dark-haired boy gave Chris a gummy smile as Chris said, “C’mere big guy.” 

Ellie couldn’t help but stare at the two until her mother interrupted her thoughts, asking, “Hey Ellie, can you come help me get those plates down?” 

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Ellie replied, standing up and moving through the archway into the kitchen. Once the plates were retrieved, she stood next to her mom and quietly asked,  “Okay, so what do you think of him?” 

“Oh honey, that boy is a keeper,” Diana told her in a hushed tone, looking at Ellie with a happy look on her face. 

“I think so too,” Ellie confessed to her as a large grin spread across her face. “I knew you’d love him once you met him.” 

“Honestly I wasn’t really sure what to expect with him,” Diana admitted, shaking her head. “With Chris not having told you the truth and knowing some of the things about his past I just… wasn’t quite sure what he’d be like but he’s a good one.” 

Ellie nodded, knowing they all had shared the same suspicions. She kept having the same thoughts about Chris on a loop in her mind and she had to vocalize at least some of it, telling her, “I’m really crazy about him, mom.” 

“I can tell he feels the same way about you.” 

“Do you think so?” Ellie asked quietly, hope filling her heart as it stopped beating. “I know Chris likes me but sometimes he’s just so hard to read. He’s more closed off with his feelings sometimes… I’m sure because of what he went through with his ex, but sometimes it just makes me unable to know what he’s really thinking.” 

“Ellie, seeing the way he was looking at you could have made me cry. If you saw the look on his face when he was staring at you while you were talking, you’d know that you have nothing to worry about with that one,” Diana reassured her, grasping her daughter’s arm before they heard Chris laughing and then saw him playing with Nate at the table.

And when Ellie walked back out to the dining room with plates of cake in her hands, she saw Chris look up from where he was sitting, playing with the happy baby and when she saw the look in his blue eyes, she knew exactly what her mother was talking about. Seeing the softness in his eyes and that little hint of a smile on his face made her know without a doubt that all of the things she was feeling were reciprocated just as much. 

Feeling nothing but overwhelming emotion for him, Ellie couldn’t help but lean down to press a soft quick kiss to his lips before taking the seat next to him again with nothing but happiness in her heart. Although he didn’t want to say it in front of everyone as they came back to the table, each grabbing their piece of cake while Amanda dished up the fresh strawberries, Chris felt that same happiness. It wasn’t really a secret that he didn’t have much of a social life. He really only spent time with his family, Hazel, and his co-workers, mainly Mark, during the week. He was too busy for a whole lot else and with his guarded nature, opening up wasn’t something that came easily to him, but with Ellie, he wanted to try. 

The feeling stayed with them both as they left Ellie’s parents and decided to head back to Chris’ house and see Dodger before it got too late. As he drove them across town and pulled into the short driveway, Ellie took in the dark home, unable to make out most of the details, but knowing it perfectly suited both him and Hazel. It could - in her mind - only be described as being his home, down to the Patriots camping chairs in the garage and the overwhelming amount of outside toys stored for Hazel. 

After greeting Dodger, the dog happy to see both Chris and Ellie, Chris let Dodger outside into the fenced yard while he dumped more water in the dog’s bowl. Ellie toed off her sneakers and joined him in the kitchen as Chris sat down ungracefully at the kitchen barstool, pulling out his phone while she grabbed herself a water. 

“Elles, come look at this video that Ashlee sent me of Hazel at the aquarium,” Chris laughed, waiting until Ellie sat down next to him and huddled next to her, slouched over the counter as they both stared at his phone. “Look at her face when that shark swims by!” 

She watched the video showing Hazel’s face from the side as she  - Chris’ profile - lit up when the shadow of a shark crossed the tiny face, Ellie laughing along with Chris and saying, “She’s so excited! God, could Hazel be any cuter?” 

“That little curly top melts my heart,” Chris said fondly, shaking his head and texting back a reply before he locked his phone, sliding it away from him on the counter. 

“It looks like she had a pretty good day today,” Ellie whispered to him as she faced him, her hand moving through the hair at the back of his head. 

He looked at her with that sideways grin that made her heart skip several beats, his hand moving to rest on her thigh as he told her with a shrug, “So did her dad.” 

“Other than the fact you had to go meet my entire family at the drop of a hat,” Ellie laughed, her thigh twitching as he gently squeezed it. 

But Chris shook his head, his smile falling as he told her, “I actually had a really good time. Your family is really wonderful,” then he paused, a smirk spreading across his lips as he told her, “Besides, seeing you hold your baby nephew was pretty damn cute. You looked really good with that baby.” 

Ellie let out a loud laugh, shaking her head and telling him with an eyebrow raised, “Well I wasn’t a pediatric nurse for nothing.” 

They laughed together, sitting contently together until his phone buzzed again with another picture of Hazel - this time of her asleep in her car seat - and laughed some more at the expression on the little girl’s face, at how exhausted she must have been after her big day with Ashlee. 

He was looking at his phone with that smile again before he looked at her again, the expression remaining as his eyes flicked over her face. And she knew. “Chris… I wanted to tell you something,” Ellie began quietly, her hand dropping to his shoulder. 

“What is it?” He asked, a single brow raised.

“I just want you to know that I love you, baby,” she said slowly, pausing nervously before she rushed to continue, “I know it’s really soon and that you've been through a lot in the past and you don’t need to say it back, but I just want you to know.” 

He hesitated, stammering a little as he told her, “Ellie… I…” 

“Don’t say anything,” she interrupted, reassuring him, “You don’t need to say a word, I just wanted you to know that I love you.” 

Hearing those words and letting them sink in made Chris feel like every wall he had around him came down at this moment. There was nothing but warmth inside him from hearing those words directed at him. At first he felt like it had been so long since he heard that but he realized that honestly it was the first time anyone, outside of his family, had said those words to him and actually meant it. Ellie spoke those words with nothing but truth and emotion, wanting nothing in return and that touched him so deeply that he could feel tears stinging at his eyes. 

All he could do was wrap his thick arms around her, pulling Ellie into him while he nuzzled his face in her neck, just needing to feel her close right now. He felt so undeserving, so inadequate to receive such pure love from Ellie, but he was receiving it nonetheless and nothing could have felt better. The anxiety in his brain wanted to convince him that her words weren’t true. That somehow there was something going on, some ulterior motive that would cause her words to be untrue, or that she’d change her mind later on, but he knew that just wasn’t the case. He could hardly remember the times that he and Ashlee had ever said those three words to each other, being so few and far between, especially after they were married, but it had never felt like this. Hearing those words from her never felt like it did right now and all the emotions it caused in him made Chris know without a doubt that they were true and honest. 

Chris lifted his head up just enough so that he could bring his lips to hers, kissing her with a wordless promise that although he wasn’t quite ready to take that step of saying that, he was feeling it inside and wanted to be able to communicate it back to her. He wanted Ellie to know just how much he adored her and wanted her in every sense of the word. Even the ones he couldn’t quite say yet. 

Their lips met over and over again, Chris’ hands slipping underneath her black shirt and far enough up her back for Ellie to pull away from his lips, “Chris… are you sure?” 

“I’m sure,” he whispered without an ounce of hesitation or anxiety, moving to kiss her again.

But Ellie’s lips pulled back from his again, her eyes staring at him with furrowed brows. “We can wait, I don’t mind,” she insisted, swallowing nervously and continuing, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything just because I said that I love you.” 

Chris shook his head, trying to assure her that there were entirely no worries or fears that he had. He wanted her, and he knew that he wanted to do this. “I promise you I don’t feel that way.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Ellie… I just want you,” he whispered to her, a small grin on his face.

And if Ellie wasn’t already putty in his hands, she was completely melted from those words and the tender look on that handsome bearded face. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself completely against him while she kissed him with so much passion that Chris felt like he was seeing stars. They stayed wrapped up in each other’s arms, kissing passionately and building up the desire that was already burning between them. 

When neither could breathe properly, they pulled back, both bleary eyed and sloppily kissing at whatever part of each other's faces that they could reach. Finally Chris pulled back, his hands slipping out from under her shirt as he looked into her soft eyes, telling her, “I’ll be right back.” 

She watched as he pushed himself off the couch, going over to open the door to the backyard and called out for Dodger before the adorable pooch came trotting over to come back inside. Chris leaned down, kissing his head before leading him to the kitchen where he pulled out the bag of dog food, filling up Dodger’s bowl before grabbing him a bone to keep the happy dog occupied. When he walked back over to the couch, he saw Ellie relaxed against the couch, a happy contented smile on her face. 

At first, Ellie wasn’t completely sure what the chain of events would be, knowing that this next step wasn’t easy for Chris. He had expressed needing more time and Ellie wasn’t about to push him. She didn’t want to be the one to advance things, giving Chris an easy out incase he changed his mind, but when he leaned down and scooped her up effortlessly in his thick arms, it clued her in that she wasn’t the only one who was just as eager for this moment. 

Ellie threw her arms around his neck, clinging onto him as he carried her up the stairs and down the short hallway. She started kissing along his neck, her whole body feeling flushed at just how incredibly strong he was, and that mixed with his gentle demeanor was enough to light her on fire. 

He placed her down gently on the dark wooden floor, his hands moving to her hips just as she spun them, Chris’ back pressed to the white door as her hands squeezed his shoulders before she clung to him, kissing him with a fervor. Their hands were everywhere, grabbing and rubbing along whatever they could find, Chris feeling so weak at the way her body was flush against his. 

Ellie’s hands were squeezing at his broad shoulders while his lips attacked her neck, sucking along that soft skin that he couldn't wait to feel more of. Chris’ hands were lingering at her hips, unsure about the next move he should make, his fingers moving to hover around the button on her jeans before finally going for it and popping open the button. 

She moaned softly when he hit a particularly sensitive spot on her neck, making his pants feel a little tighter at that sound. His hands continued pulling at the zipper before he pushed the denim off of her hips, Ellie wiggling her way out of them as Chris’ hands trailed up her soft skin, feeling her thighs underneath his fingertips. She pulled back slightly from his warm body as his hands kept trailing upwards, her black sweater gathering as he followed the curve of her sides and took the black shirt up and over her head, adding it to the pile before Ellie threw her arms back around his neck to press herself completely against him, so desperate to feel him. 

Their lips met for about the thousandth time, kissing fervently as Chris started walking them backwards toward his large bed until Ellie’s legs hit the mattress. He gently pushed her backwards, letting her lay on the bed, her blonde hair splayed out on his pillow as she caught her breath. Chris climbed on the bed next to her, his lips immediately finding hers while his big hand rubbed along the curve of her side, wanting to commit the feeling of her soft skin to memory. He pushed away the thoughts that threatened to take over his mind, the fears and insecurities, and instead forced himself to focus on this - on Ellie, who was here, in his bed. She had already proved all of his fears wrong over these past three weeks, and while he was beginning to shift his views thanks to her, he was still fucking terrified to do this, even if he wanted to. And he wanted to.

“I love you Chris,” her soft voice breathed out in between their lips meeting over and over again. 

And those simple, honest words seemed to pull every doubt about himself from his mind for a moment. It had been so long since he had felt loved like this… actually he hadn’t ever really felt it from a partner before if he was being totally honest. But here he was, only a few weeks into this with Ellie and he was already in so insanely deep for her and that both terrified and electrified him. 

Needing to feel her, and wanting to - no needing to -  communicate all of the emotions inside him, Chris let his hand wander up to gently rub across her soft orange bralette, being able to feel her hardening nipples underneath the thin fabric. She sighed against his lips, letting Chris know how much she liked it but when his hand slid down farther and farther, he could feel a sudden exhale of breath from her that gave away her anticipation. 

Ellie’s heart was pounding when Chris’ warm hand slipped between her legs, cupping her over her scalloped edge floral cream panties. She knew he had to have felt how soaked she was for him already, knowing the fabric was more than just damp at this point and feeling his touch so close and yet not enough had her whimpering against his lips. 

He started sucking along her bottom lip as his hand gently caressed her over her floral panties, only getting Ellie more worked up than she already was. She didn’t feel like it was a secret that she wanted Chris in every single way. She was completely head over heels for him and getting to be laying in his bed felt even better than she dreamed it would have. Ellie breathed in his musky cologne, loving the way it made her feel completely surrounded by him while he let go of her bottom lip, coming back to kiss her deeply while a single finger trailed along her panty covered slit, causing a shiver to run down her spine. She needed him closer, her hips rolling up into his hand and giving him the hint as he kissed her senseless. 

“C-Chris, please babe,” she practically whimpered, too far gone already to hear the hitch in his breath at the begging. 

He was just as eager to feel her, bringing his hand up so he could slip it underneath her panties, his index finger bringing her a little bit of relief when it pushed between her folds. Chris felt his own arousal growing at the feeling of just how wet she was for it, helping to boost his ego a little bit in a moment he so desperately needed it. Their tongues were tangled together when Chris let his thick finger drag up and down her core, getting used to the feeling of her soft center that was so incredibly ready for him, but when he slid his finger up to feel her clit, Ellie had to pull away from his mouth as she gasped loudly. 

Chris started gently, rubbing extremely gentle circles along her sensitive button as Ellie laid her head back on the pillow. He couldn’t help but gaze at her, eyes shut tight while her pink swollen lips fell open as a long sigh fell from her mouth. She looked so beautiful laying there, making a wave of thankfulness wash over him that she had showed up in that bakery over a month ago. Although when he first met her, there was no way he would have dreamed that the sweet woman would soon be lying here in his bed, moaning out his name while he rubbed those perfect circles to drive her crazy. 

He saw her chest heaving as she labored for breath, his lips kissing along her neck, shoulder, collar bone and any other skin he could find while he kept working his fingers where she wanted him most. Ellie felt like her senses were on fire, loving that she felt him everywhere from the warmth of his body to the tickle of his beard and soft brown hair while he messily kissed and nipped along her skin. She loosely wrapped her arms around his shoulders, trying to pull his strong firm body even closer as his index finger started pushing a little harder and rubbing quicker circles that had her back arching while she squeezed her arms around him. 

Chris drank in all of the little noises that escaped her from her gentle gasps to sharp sighs, loving each and every one until her fingers dug into his back, clinging tightly as she inhaled loudly, cluing him in that she must have been right there. He sucked along the base of her neck as he kept up his tight circles, bringing her over her peak as she cried out, her body completely rigid before she seemed to completely melt into the bed, every inch of her relaxing into the soft blankets. 

His lips pressed a few kisses up her neck before finding her gorgeous relaxed face, placing a few sweet kisses to her cheeks and forehead, ready to lay down and see what would happen next. This softness, this calm energy that had settled over Ellie was something he wasn’t used to. Any previous experience in these situations was frantic before either an argument started or he left to go home, but as soon as Ellie was brought back to reality, she was grabbing for him. Ellie pressed her body up against him, pressing a few messy kisses at the edge of his mouth before finding his shirt and starting to tug at it. 

But suddenly that anxiety that seemed to always linger in the back of his head was thrust to the forefront. Although it wasn’t the first time he’d been in this situation with other women, it had been so long, and truly had never been like this before. He never was wanted for anything the way Ellie seemed to crave him, never desired. The few people he’d been with - including his ex and the tiny handful of random hookups he had early on in the divorce days - were purely out of a need to expel that energy, a need to handle the hormones. But Ellie seemed to just want him… for him. And that was something he didn’t know how to handle. 

He was so crazy for her, even if he was a little terrified to admit it, and that only made this so much more stress inducing. He wanted her so badly, and Chris knew he just couldn’t handle disappointing her. Although he knew Ashlee’s cheating wasn’t his fault, those feelings couldn’t help but haunt his mind a little bit. It gave him a lot of doubts in himself, and especially with his abilities in bed. Then, once he had a couple hookups after his divorced, and none had ever called back, it only added onto his doubts in himself. As if that wasn’t bad enough, it had been two years since he had a woman in this way and as bad as he wanted Ellie, he felt nothing but anxiousness at it all. 

Chris figured it must have shown too because Ellie stopped their kissing, pulling back as she just looked at him for a long moment, telling him, “Chris, we don’t need to do anything more.” 

He shook his head, whispering, “No, I-” 

“Seriously, Chris, that was amazing and I’m more than happy to stop,” she interrupted, a hand moving back and forth along his shoulder gently.

Chris was quiet for a moment before he admitted, “I want to… I'm just…”��

“I know baby, it’s okay,” she reassured him, leaning up and kissing him slowly before she pulled away and said,  “Let’s just get comfortable and relax, okay?” 

Chris’ brain reminded him that he had no clue how to do that, but Ellie seemed to read his mind, resting a hand on his bearded cheek before she leaned in to kiss him sweetly. She could feel the tension start to leave his shoulders as they kept kissing, and kissing… and kissing more. Ellie got her hands under his shirt, rubbing along his skin slowly before she finally got the shirt off of his body. 

He anxiously watched the look in her eyes as she looked him up and down, her hands coming out to rub along his firm chest, feeling his defined pecs underneath her touch that were covered in a few black tattoos and soft chest hair that only made him look even more manly to Ellie. She knew he was hot, that much was obvious, but actually getting to see what was underneath that shirt had her panties even wetter if that was possible. 

Ellie’s sole focus was helping Chris relax as she just kept kissing him slowly, no agenda while her hands ran along the muscular landscape of his body. She eventually helped him out of his jeans, still trying to go slow and give him plenty of opportunities to pull back but right when she was about to ask him how he was feeling and if he wanted to go any farther, those thick arms of his pulled her barely clothed frame on top of him, one of his hands running down her back and resting on one of her round cheeks, only half covered by her panties as he gave it a gentle squeeze. Suddenly she figured out that she didn’t need to ask him anymore if he wanted to go any farther. 

His kisses became passionate and needy as he kept kneading at her ass, his other hand coming up to tangle in her hair. She could feel his erection pressing against her through the confines of his boxers and just the feeling of how thick he was had her insides clenching. Eventually when she couldn’t breathe anymore, Ellie put her hands on his chest, pushing herself up so that she was straddling his waist. Chris was looking up at her through hooded lids, his lips swollen and parted as he breathed heavily, brown hair sticking up every which way and Ellie thought it was impossible for him to look any sexier than he did right now. His hands reached out to hold onto her hips, his thumbs rubbing small circles while she grabbed the bottom of her bralette, pulling it up and over her head, tossing it onto the floor. 

His eyes followed her movements, Chris feeling his boxers tighten as he swallowed and admitted, “If you’re trying to get me to relax, you’re not doing a very good job right now.” 

Ellie’s face scrunched with laughter, her head shaking. “I’m kind of glad,” she confessed with a shrug. 

“God, Ellie… you’re gorgeous,” he murmured, his eyes dropping momentarily before they met her eyes again. 

She practically melted from his words, her heart feeling so full as Chris effortlessly flipped her over so she was laying on her back, his hands on either side of her to hover on top. Chris’ mouth started pressing little kisses along her soft skin, coming down to press a few along the tops of her soft breasts, his mouth coming to wrap around one of her nipples, his tongue flicking across it while one of his hands laid on top of the other, delicately kneading it in his hand as he got to feel her for the first time. Hearing the way she gasped at his movements, her hands coming to run through his hair gave him the confidence to keep going, doting all the attention on her chest before moving down lower. 

His fingers were hooked in the band of her floral panties, his eyes flickering up to her one more time but at her soft nod and sweet smile, he pulled them off those long legs. When Chris’ blue eyes looked her up and down, seeing her completely bare to him for the first time, he could hardly believe it. She was here, laying naked in his bed wanting him. She wanted him just for him. She loved him. And nothing could have felt more incredible to Chris than that. 

All of that anxiety and stress was still there but he knew he wanted her. He was terrified to dive in, but Ellie was worth every bit of anxiety and he decided to overcome his stress and slip out of his own boxers. But when he saw Ellie’s eyes grow wide as she looked at him and a shiver ran down her spine, that gave him the little bit of a confidence boost he needed to position himself between her legs. 

“You ready, honey?” He asked, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. 

She almost moaned out, her legs moving to wrap around his trim hips as she whimpered, “Yes, please baby, I need you so badly Chris.” 

“You got me, Elles,” he murmured, and Ellie’s eyes shut tight as he drug his tip along her soaking wet slit before he gently pushed in so slowly that both of them were crying out as they clung to each other. 

She couldn’t seem to find her breathe while her walls adjusted to his thick size, loving the way he filled her so well and just how damn good he felt. She was so thankful that they’d talked about things prior and agreed they’d forgo condoms since Ellie was on the pill - which was another way he showed his full trust to her, only showing her what big strides he was making in trusting her fully. But she still could only seem to focus on how perfectly he seemed to fit in her, just how glorious this feeling was and with the way he was letting out those soft sighs, she figured he must have been thinking the exact same thing. Chris eventually pulled back before pushing in again gently, beginning to find that slow perfect rhythm. 

Neither could breathe very well as Chris started rocking his hips slowly, letting her feel every inch of his thick cock with each thrust dragging against her smooth walls. Ellie reached up, rubbing her hands on his chest for a long moment before he hit her particularly deep, making her fingers dig into his shoulders as she let out such a loud moan it made him twitch inside her. 

Chris’ blue eyes flickered down, watching Ellie’s body bounce slightly with each thrust, her chest heaving as she alternated between moaning and breathing. Her eyelids were closed shut but eventually slowly flickered open, landing right on his. Chris could feel his heart pounding from the way she so softly smiled at him and grabbed the back of his neck to pull him down on top of her, their chests pressed together while her lips found his and Chris’ hips kept up their steady motion. 

His arms snaked between her body and the mattress, holding her impossibly close against him, every inch of them touching in some way or another. He had never felt anything like this, realizing in that moment that he had never felt sex this way before. In the past, it had been purely physical, little or no emotion behind it. But this… this was so different. This gorgeous kindhearted woman who was kissing him so deeply, loved him. And he knew that he had fallen in just as deep, the connection they shared being unlike anything he’d ever experienced or even thought possible. 

Their lips pulled apart as Chris picked up his pace, both of them panting as they each were getting closer. Chris moved his arms so he was braced on his elbows on either side of her, nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck and kissing her a few times before he felt her hand slipping between their bodies. Knowing where she was going, he leaned his weight on one arm so he could use the other hand to gently push hers away, taking its place and starting up those methodical circles against her clit, making her arch her back, crying out his name and panting until she hit that beautiful peak. 

A low grunt escaped his lips when he felt her insides clenching him so perfectly, making it hard to keep thrusting, only getting three more before he held his hips inside her and came with a loud moan. His whole body felt weak from the exertion, beads of sweat along his forehead as they both tried to catch their breath. 

Her hand moved from clenching the muscle of his shoulder to the back of his head, running through the sweaty hair there. Chris tilted his head, pressing a few kisses to the skin there on Ellie’s neck as he basked in this feeling… for the first time ever. He was used to rolling off of each other, taking a shower alone, or just going to sleep immediately on opposite sides of the bed, but with Ellie’s hands holding him to her, he couldn’t help but indulge in this. 

They each relished in the afterglow until he gently pulled out and made his way into his bathroom, cleaning himself up before he came out with a washcloth and helped Ellie. Chris went back to toss the washcloth into the bathroom to be dealt with in the morning, sliding on a pair of sweatpants quickly before heading toward the bedroom door but before he could make it all the way out, a gentle voice stopped him. 

“Chris?” Ellie asked carefully, sitting up in bed as she gathered the comforter around her naked frame. “Aren’t you coming back to bed?” 

As he looked at her running a hand through her messy blonde hair, he couldn’t help but feel warm from her words. That simple question that showed him that she wanted to just be close to him was enough to cause his heart to melt right then and there. It reminded him that he wasn’t here with one of his relationships from the past, the connection after sex being nonexistent, he was here with Ellie. His girl. And she was nothing like he’d experienced before and everything he’d always wanted. 

Silently, Chris turned and opened up one of the dresser drawers, pulling out a navy pullover fire station sweatshirt and walked over to the bed to sit down next to Ellie. He grabbed the bottom of the sweatshirt, holding it out to her so that she could easily slip her arms and head into it, helping her pull it down around her naked frame to keep her warm. Chris then pulled the white comforter up farther before he leaned in to kiss her sweetly, causing Ellie to smile into the kiss. 

“Just going to get Dodger and turn out the lights, then I’ll be back,” he whispered, pecking her lips quickly again before he straightened up again and looked at her with a small smile. 

Chris hurried down the stairs, turning off the lights before finding Dodger roaming around in the kitchen. He scratched his head softly before telling him, “Alright bubba, it’s bedtime.” The sweet pooch followed behind Chris while he went over to fill up a glass of water, before going back up into the peacefulness of his bedroom. 

Ellie was already snuggled down into the bed and he was already internally deciding how he should ask her about Dodger. Ever since he got Dodger after his divorce, the sweet pup had slept in bed with him - even at the firehouse - but he wondered if she would even be alright with him sleeping in the bedroom. He was trying to figure out how to phrase the question but it got answered for him when Ellie sat up a little bit, patting the bed while she beamed, “Dodger! C’mere boy!” 

A smile crossed his face as he watched Dodger hop up, going straight to Ellie’s waiting arms and laying half on top of her as he licked her face, making her beautiful laugh echo in the room. He silently watched from the doorway as she doted all her attention on the pooch before turning her head, worried as she asked, “Sorry, I should have asked if it was alright if he got on your bed.” 

“Well considering he sleeps here every night, yeah, it’s okay,” Chris shrugged, crossing the room slowly and stepping over Hazel’s stray stuffed llama that was lying on the floor.

“Good because I think this poor guy would feel left out if he couldn’t sleep up here with us tonight,” Ellie laughed, jerking her arm away when Dodger tried to start licking it. 

“I brought you some water in case you were thirsty,” Chris told her quietly as he came over to Ellie’s side of the bed, bending down to put the water on the nightstand next to the bed as he watched the pair fondly. 

Her eyes were wide, a grin on her face as her eyes flickered from the glass of ice water back to his face, before moving to Dodger and back again. “You really are the sweetest man I’ve ever met,” she whispered.

Chris felt a blush spread across his cheeks, a sheepish look on his face while he shrugged and admitted, “I don’t think bringing water earns me that title.” 

“Well you’ve done quite a few other things that have bumped you up to that position,” Ellie trailed off, a single finger running over Dodger’s back. “My mother was right this evening when she said that you were a keeper.” 

Instantly a stronger blush filled Chris’ cheeks at the compliment, another thing he wasn’t used to, while he nervously scratched the back of his neck. Ellie just scooted over in the spacious bed, flipping back the covers to silently invite him in which he gladly accepted. He felt a little tentative at first, just laying on his back, unsure how Ellie would feel about his arms around her, recalling how little affection there was between him and Ashlee and how she always rejected his advances of such. 

But an unconscious smile slipped across his lips when Ellie immediately curled up against his side, laying her head on his shoulder while her arm wrapped around his firm middle and a leg lifted up to lay on top of his sweatpant covered thighs. Not feeling any reciprocation from him, she tilted her chin up, softly asking, “Is this okay?” 

Pulling him out of his internal thoughts, Chris looked down, bringing a hand to rest on her cheek as he assured her, “More than okay,” before he kissed her sweetly. It was quiet as they both relaxed into the bed, wrapped up in each other and happier than they knew possible. 

Ellie’s eyes opened slowly, taking a moment to come into focus, seeing a different room than she was used to seeing when she woke up in the mornings. Her eyes then shifted to look next to her, seeing the hunky sleeping firefighter right next to her. One of his hands was resting on his chest, the other resting up above his head, mouth hanging open as he soundly slept. She thought it seemed like a dream at first, not believing that last night could have been real, but as the memories started coming back to her, she remembered that it was. 

Dodger laid snoozing on the end of the bed as Ellie scooted a little closer to Chris, wanting the warmth his body was radiating but causing his eyelids to slowly flutter open at the movement. His blue eyes looked right at her, a closed mouth smile appearing on his handsome face before he reached out for her, pulling Ellie close before he closed his eyes again. 

His chin tucked on top of her head when Ellie rolled onto her side next to him, both of them taking the morning in slowly as he whispered to her, “Morning Elle Belle.” 

“Hi baby,” she quietly replied, a grin on her face as her fingers danced over his bare pecs. 

“Did you sleep well last night?” 

“So well,” she admitted, then frowned a bit. “I wish I didn’t have to go to work today so I could just sleep in.” 

“Hand me my phone, I’ll call Dottie and convince her to give you the day off,” Chris told her, Ellie glancing up to see a smirk on his face and his nose scrunched up.

“I know you could too, she adores you,” Ellie laughed along, but then sighed and frowned a little. “But I really need to go in. Dottie won’t be there today so I’m the manager. I still have an hour before I need to get ready though.” 

“Good,” Chris nodded. He reached for his phone, swiping through the notifications on it and told her,  “Looks like it snowed last night.” 

Ellie yawned loudly, relaxing against his firm body. “Yeah I think so.” 

“Can I drive you to work? I don’t want you to have to drive in fresh snow,” Chris asked her quietly, his hand moving down to rub her hip underneath the baggy fire station sweatshirt he’d given her. 

She smirked a little, shrugging and telling him, “You’re going to have to because my car is still at the bakery from yesterday.” 

“Oh my god, I totally forgot!” He laughed, his head leaning back against the fluffy pillow. “Was that only yesterday?” 

“Yeah, but a lot has happened since then,” Ellie shrugged playfully, rolling over a little so she was half on top of Chris and able to look him in the eyes easily.

“A lot of good stuff,” Chris agreed, his eyebrows raising as he pecked her lips quickly before she settled back onto his chest, a hand trailing along his chest. She took in the tattoos on his chest for the first time - seeing the long quote along his collarbone, a tattoo on his right rib cage, and one she immediately knew the meaning of stretched along his left pec - reading “Hazel” in delicate lettering. He stretched underneath her as his phone vibrated against the mattress, Chris reaching for it just as she began to trace his collarbone tattoo. 

“What time did you say you need to go in?” 

“I need to be there at nine,” she whispered, her finger moving over his skin and the smattering of hair there. 

“Okay, Ashlee is asking what time I’m coming to get Hazel so I’ll go get her after I drop you off.” 

“Chris…” Ellie trailed off, her brows furrowed deep in thought. “Does she know… about us?” 

“Not yet. When I brought her by the bakery I just introduced you as my friend,” Chris shrugged, his hand moving up and down along her back.

“No, not Hazel. Does Ashlee know about us?” 

She heard him open and close his mouth a few times, taking in a sharp intake of breath as he whispered,“Oh…” 

“Does she know?” Ellie repeated, turning her head up to look at him.

“She’s not really the easiest person to tell things to,” Chris whispered, a frown on his face. “I’m waiting to tell her until we’re both ready for you to meet Hazel as my girlfriend. Until then, it doesn’t really have anything to do with her. Ashlee can be… difficult so I’d rather wait until I have to.” 

Ellie nodded, her chin on his chest as her hand resumed its path along his tattoos. “I was just wondering.” 

“But I don’t want you to mistake that for not being serious about you, Elles,” he whispered, a small smile appearing when they met each other’s eyes. “I’m… really happy when I’m with you.” 

And Chris knew without a doubt how true those words of his were. He had never felt this way. Never felt this purely happy before except when he was with Hazel, and it was a feeling that he was ready to get used to. 

A/N: WE MELTED WRITING THIS CHAPTER. We really loved getting to write Chris and Ellie hanging out with her family for the first time and Chris getting redeemed in their eyes. Then, Ellie telling him those three words, and Chris knowing that they are truthful for the first time.... ever.... melts us! Oh and then the smut ;) We can't wait to hear your thoughts!