#and its a fun little exercise in values! or something! am i making excuses! maybe!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i think i need a lobotomy

[disgruntledspacedad]

the mandalorian season finale that i wish we could have

Take with a grain of salt that while I am well-versed in the OT and the prequels, my knowledge of CW and Rebels is pretty limited (I’m watching now), and I know nothing about the EU. Disclaimer that this isn’t quite fic, or headcanon, or meta, or speculation - kind of a bastardization of all of the above, maybe. 

Because he is a man of discipline, and because he suddenly finds an opportunity to channel all of that downtime in hyperspace into something productive, Din decides as they leave Corvus that he has no excuse for letting the kid’s powers fade. 

He has no delusions that floating the shifter knob across the cabin is in any way challenging to the kid. Kriff’s sake, Din’s seen him lift a mudhorn and channel a gods-damned explosion. But Din knows from hard-won experience that there’s a major difference between power and finesse, and that the more comfortable the kid becomes with casually accessing his powers, the easier his eventual reintegration with the Jedi will be. 

Besides, if Din is to be responsible for delivering the child to his kind, then he will see to it that he’s done more than just the minimum of keeping the child alive and unharmed. 

They start with simple things. A quick game of catch with knob, Din asking the kid to reach his own utensils, rather than Din handing them to him. 

Din realizes quickly that the child, like any child, is quickly annoyed with the exercises. I know you are capable of so much more, Din thinks, raising his hands in a moment of frustration. He only realizes that he’s spoken aloud when the child blinks up at him. 

Din has a distinct feeling of frustration. It raises a memory, long since forgotten, of his early combat training. He’d longed to go out to the range and shoot his blasters, rather than endlessly taking them apart and reassembling them.

Connect with him, Ahsoka had said on Corvus. 

So Din does. 

He learns to make it fun. Grogu, like any other gifted child, craves a challenge. “Float the ball,” becomes a game of catch. Silent steps evolves into hide and seek. One day, Din lowers to cabin temperature to near freezing, then watches proudly as the kid summons his blanket from the lower level. 

Din also learns the value of calling the kid, Grogu, by his name. 

Din doesn’t tend to think in the way of proper nouns. He is a Mandalorian. His charge is a Child. This is the Way. To separate the individual from its classification only complicates things. 

But the kid, Grogu, likes being called by name. At first, Din uses it reluctantly, as last-ditch effort to capture the child’s attention. But there’s this subtle thrum of rightness that swells briefly beneath Din’s skin when the kid hears it. His eyes light up, and his ears quirk, and Din finds himself smiling beneath his helmet. The name quickly becomes habit. 

As Grogu’s reluctance to tap into the force fades, Din’s challenges become more complex. Din learns, little by little, what Grogu is capable of, and he adjusts his training accordingly.

He’s getting better at reading Grogu, too. It starts as little impressions - the thrill of anticipation while watching him hunt yet another frog, the dread of bathing afterward, a sense of weary contentment as he settles Grogu into his hammock after a long day.

Then the dreams start.

At first, Din doesn’t remember them. He wakes with vague impressions, confusion/fear/longing/emptiness. Din isn’t usually a dreamer, and the intensity of the residual emotions unsettles him. 

He rolls with it, though, like he rolls with every bizarre development that the universe throws his way, until one night he wakes panting, sitting straight up in his bunker, cold sweat running in rivulets down his spine. 

Darkness. Fear, no, terror, pervasive and all-encompassing. The acrid scent of smoke and cauterized flesh. Screams cut violently short. Heat and heavy footsteps. An eerie blue glow that hums as if alive, familiar and dreadful and encroaching ever closer. Loss, aching and empty and devastating beyond belief.  

A familiar trill brings Din back to himself. Grogu is sitting up in his hammock, wide awake, staring at him with his head cocked. 

And suddenly, Din understands. 

He doesn’t speak, just lifts Grogu from his bedding and holds him close. Grogu snuggles close into the softness of his cowl, and Din feels his tiny heart beat fluttering wildly in his chest. 

“Ni ceta,” he tells Grogu. I’m sorry.

From that moment, Din starts to become aware of a bond between them. The intense, foreign feelings, the dreams that feel so real, that new, instinctual understanding... it’s all Grogu. 

Now that Din is aware of it, the connection is obvious. Grogu doesn’t communicate with words, no, but if Din is concentrating, he can determine which emotions are his and which belong to the kid. 

At first, it terrifies him, and twice, he nearly sets a course for Corvus to ask Ahsoka just what the kriff is happening in his head. But Grogu understands more than Din has ever given him credit for, and Din knows, whether by instinct of through the force, that Grogu won’t use his power to harm him.

In fact, Din finds that their bond is beneficial for more than just mutual convenience. Sure, he knows when Grogu is telling him that he’s tired or bored or hurt or hungry, but Din discovers that if he quiets his mind and concentrates, he can get a vague impression of how Grogu is doing. Where he is, if he’s content or not. Din can’t initiate a conversation between them, not in the way that Grogu seems to force himself into Din’s brain with all the subtlety of a baying bantha when he pleases, but Din finds that this casual awareness of Grogu’s continued existence is enough to convince him of the utility of their connection. 

He even finds that he appreciates it. 

Grogu, for his part, comes to recognize that Din is more than just a passing master who is casually training him in the ways of the force. Grogu doesn’t have words for what Din is to him, but his instincts determine that it is something outside his own experience. He is familiar with the concept of master and padawan, and the bonds between them. This, still, is not correct. Mando, as others call him, or Din, as the Mandalorian calls himself, is not a master. That much is clear. The Jedi Order doesn't have a term for what he is, so Grogu lifts the term from the Mandalorian’s memories as he sleeps. 

Buir. 

At some point, Moff Gideon is going to catch up to them. Din discovers the tracker in the Razor Crest too late, and Gideon takes Grogu. Din is angry, rabidly, ferociously so, until he feels that oh-so-subtle, familiar prompting at the back of his mind. 

Reassurance. Safety for the moment, if not comfort. Absolute, unassailable trust that Buir will find him.

Din chokes. It’s the first time that he’s heard that term so clearly in Grogu’s thoughts, and it alights something primal in him. He contacts Navarro on a secure channel, delivers his message, and then retreats to his cot. 

The Mandalorians of old told legends of the Dream Walkers, warrior sages who harnessed their dreams to tread the stars, to learn visions of the future and past. Din knows already that his bond with Grogu is clearest in his dreams, so he calms his nerves, tamps down on all of his adrenaline, curbs the instinct to go/run/fight/protect, and sleeps.

Din dreams of steel corridors and bright lights. He is strapped down, facing many open windows that look to the sky above him. Cold drips into the crook of his elbow, running chills up his skin. 

The stars, Din thinks as loudly as he can, as aware as he can be. Look up, Grogu. Look at the stars.

Then Grogu looks up and sees the stars.

Din wakes alert and jittery. less than 90 minutes after collapsing into his bunk, and sets a course.

Cara meets him planetside with a ragtag team of hunters and ex-rebels. More are coming, she promises. 

Din won't wait.

They surround a small moon on a backwater planet at the edge of the galaxy. Din doesn’t know the name of the system. He doesn’t care. 

Grogu is here. 

They fight. Din makes it to the lab, nearly has Grogu in his arms before imperial reinforcements swarm the base. Din is overwhelmed, and Grogu is pulled from him. 

Knocked down, but not quite out, Din watches as the star destroyer prepares for the jump to hyperspace. With all his strength, Din reaches for his kid, and his kid reaches back. “Cara is coming,” Din says aloud, hoping that Grogu hears him as he stumbles to his knees.

He is overwhelmed with images and impressions. 

The stark chill of hyperspace. A growing dread. Hands that grip him too tightly. A thin voice behind him, panicked, pleading. “We don’t know how it could affect the final results!”

A struggle. Fear. Pain. Anger.  

“Surely, Pershing, you understand that the final results is are irrelevant if the initial samples cannot be gathered. This will ensure that there are no more undue... interferences.” 

“No, please! He’s only a child!”

A mind-shattering scream, cut ominously short. 

And then, silence. 

So I’m tired of writing this like fic. I’m fairly sure it’s canon (or at least, it’s very popular fanon) that force blocking technology is a Thing. Gideon might not be force sensitive, but he’s probably studied Jedi, and could reasonably assume that there’s some sort of communication between Grogu and Din. At the very least, Grogu would use his newly redeveloped strength in the force to make things difficult for Gideon, and it would certainly be worthwhile for Gideon to cut him off.

But silencing Grogu’s access to the force would disrupt the bond between Grogu and Din. Din, who in true overprotective space dad style, has become dependent on that bond in order to assure Grogu’s comfort and safety. The sudden loss of the bond would certainly be absolutely shattering, and Din, who has no other context, would naturally assume that Gideon killed Grogu. 

Now, I’m a slut for the “presumed dead” trope. Din would-burn-the-galaxy-and-everyone-in-it-if-you-harm-a-hair-on-his-head Djarin seeking vengeance for the murder of his little green son is something that I would pay dearly to see. We’ve never really seen Din lose control, not like this. We’ve never seen him fully invested, with absolutely nothing to lose. 

I want to see him bet everything on this, call in every favor and exhaust every contact on tracing Gideon’s star destroyer around the galaxy. I want him to have time to acknowledge his grief of losing Grogu. I want him to accept that Grogu was his kid, and to regret never taking those Mandalorian adoption vows. I want Din swearing justice, knowing that infiltrating Moff’s star destroyer is a suicide mission, and just not giving a shit.

Cara manages to talk a little sense into him. Wait, she says. I can’t understand how you feel, but I know why you have to do it. Let me get some people together, let’s do this as a team. We can take them all out, make sure they can’t harm anybody else.

It kills him, but Din delays his vengeance long enough to allow them to form a plan.

I would really love some scenes between Din and Ahsoka, with Ahsoka attempting to help Din deal with a severed bond. Though her padawan bond with Anakin Skywalker wasn’t quite the same as the bond that Din had with Grogu, Ahsoka has experienced a similar loss before. It’s all a little more complicated because Din isn’t inherently force-sensitive. 

Basically, Din is shattered.

The Day comes, and Din tears though the destroyer, cutting down anybody and anything that dares stand in his way. He takes great delight in blasting Pershing three times through the heart, but the sniveling imp presses a code cylinder into his hand as he dies. 

“Take it,” he chokes, looking desperately into Din’s visor with glazing eyes. “Save... save him...”

Din grips the cylinder, still clammy from where Pershing had held it, and something in him quickens. 

Ignoring the ensuing battle and his mission to find Gideon, Din hacks into the ship’s computer. He finds a lab, well hidden, accessible only to Pershing and Gideon himself. 

Hope rises, fierce and glitteringly painful, but Din tamps it down, doesn’t dare give it power over him. He storms to the lab anyway, using the code cylinder to make quick work of the security protocols, and there, just beyond the door, is Grogu. 

Bruised, anemic, far too thin, but alive. Reaching for him.

Ad’ika, Din is suddenly aware of saying it aloud. He still can’t feel Grogu, is still painfully aware of the emptiness at the back of his mind, but the word feels right, and Din says it again. “Ad’ika.”

Grogu coos, and Din notices the manacles on his wrists. 

Beskar, but not any alloy that he’s familiar with. They are warm, almost painfully hot even through his gloves, and Din can see the scars from where their heat has burned Grogu’s skin.

Din hardly has time to process this before he realizes that they are not alone. 

Din naturally has to have a massive showdown with Moff Gideon in order to take his kid back. Lots of darksaber/mandalorian/beskar/jedi lore that I don't have the knowledge to delve into, but in my head, it’s pretty cool. No idea how Grogu would get rid of his manacles, but I would love to give him something to do in this fight, rather than him just being rescued by Din. I imagine that the beskar gets hot when Grogu attempts to tap into the force; the scars on his wrists are from the many times he’s tried to defend himself or reach out through his bond to connect with Din.

Also, damn, as soon as the manacles are off and Din can feel Grogu in his head again, he’s going to be absolutely overwhelmed, but in the best way.

Lots of healing/comfort in the aftermath. Din is dealing with some heavy guilt, especially as he’s tending to Grogu’s scars. Grogu is pretty insistent that Din doesn’t take the blame, and eventually, they work it out. Din drops his helmet and swears those adoption vows as soon as they are alone on the Crest, and the bond between them only strengthens because of it. Din learns a lot about Grogu’s history and the Jedi in general. Ahsoka is much more helpful now that she knows that Din is committed to raising this kid and not just fobbing him off on her. 

Din turns down the title of Mand’alor, unceremoniously tossing the darksaber to Bo-Katan because he just doesn’t give a shit about it. All Din wants is his ship and his kid, and that’s what he gets. 

[southsidestory]

The Price of Apples in Atlanta

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Reylo

Prompt: meeting in prison au

Notes: I’ve once again exercised my utter inability to write drabbles. ;) Thank you @lunaplath​ for requesting this one! I’m sorry it took so long for me to write it for you, but this story grew, changed, and took me for a ride in the best possible way.

A disclaimer: I am not particularly educated on conditions in jail. This is in no way meant to be an accurate portrayal of life in jail, although I do hope that I correctly conveyed the nastiness of criminalizing poverty in the U.S. Rey’s year-long sentence for shoplifting is based on a real case, in which a homeless man named Tom Barrett was sentenced similarly for shoplifting a beer from a convenience store. Here’s a link to an NPR article about it, which I encourage y’all to check out if you’re interested in learning more.

.

.

It isn’t technically a crime to be poor in the Great State of Georgia. Except, Rey has been homeless ever since she ran away from her last foster family, and it turns out that six shoplifting charges in four months are enough to piss off the local cops. She goes to jail for stealing two apples, valued at $1.09, plus tax. Rey might be entitled to a public defender, but it still costs fifty dollars to fill out the necessary applications, and she doesn’t have it. So she represents herself and pleads no contest.

Judge Dickinson sentences her to a year of probation. If she had the money to pay for an ankle monitor, Rey could’ve spent those twelve months on the street, free, if tagged and tracked. But she didn’t have chump change for apples, or fifty bucks for a lawyer, and she doesn’t have the money to pay for an ankle bracelet either. So here she is, stranded at Dekalb County Jail. Her home for the next twelve months.

Rey has learned two things from this: red apples aren’t worth doing time, no matter how hungry you are; and, in practice, it’s a crime to be poor in the Great State of Georgia.

.

.

Ben has to complete two hundred service hours every year to keep his fellowship. It’s a responsibility he’s used to by now, but the second semester of junior year is kicking his ass. He’s procrastinated himself into a corner, still seventy-one hours short of his requirements with only six weeks left until final exams. He’s sick of volunteering at warming shelters and slinging soup to homeless folks at the Mission. It’s important work, as his mother would say, and Ben agrees, but he’s also exhausted, busy, and worst of all, bored--a combination that sends his mood swinging wildly without fail.

Ben calls his mom, because if there’s any problem she can’t fix, he’s yet to see it.

“I’m behind on my service hours, and if I have to build one more sustainable house I’m gonna lose my shit,” he says. “Please tell me there’s something interesting you can get me plugged into.”

She sighs. “If you’d focused on your hours at the beginning of the semester, you wouldn’t be in this boat right now. What have I told you about using your time wisely?”

Ben grabs his stress ball, considers throwing it, and squeezes it instead. “I know that, Mama, but I called for advice, not a slap on the wrist. Can you help me or not?”

He can feel his mother’s sharp disapproval through the crackling silence. She says, “I can, but I won’t if you keep talking to me like that.”

He throws the stress ball. It knocks Armitage’s ugly, industrial lamp off of his bedside table. The thing must not be as durable as it looks, because its neck snaps from the base.

Ben holds the phone away from his face so he can cuss without his mother hearing. “Goddamn motherfucking piece of shit--”

“Ben? What was that crash?”

He bites his knuckles until the sting of breaking skin grounds him, then pulls the phone closer to say, “Sorry. I knocked over my roommate’s lamp. Not on purpose.”

His mother hums, sounding half sympathetic, half disbelieving. “Tell me the truth: are you taking your meds?”

Here we go again, Ben thinks, but all he says is, “Yes.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, all of them,” Ben lies.

“I understand how hard this is, but it’s important that you--”

“That Seroquel knocks me out for twelve hours every night, and I can’t get up the next day,” he says. “I missed three of my morning classes last month because I slept through my alarms. How the fuck am I supposed to ace English 301 and squeeze in seventy service hours if I can’t stay awake?”

“Well it sounds like you need to schedule an appointment with your psychiatrist.”

“I will,” Ben says. “Swear to God. As soon as this semester is over.”

His mother’s voice takes a turn from concerned to suspicious when she asks, “Are you saying that because you’re too busy, or because you’re hoping to sail through your exams on a manic phase again?”

She’s not wrong, but this isn’t an argument that he’s willing to have right now. “I don’t have time for the third degree. Email me some service prospects, or don’t. I’ve gotta go.”

“Don’t be like that,” his mother says. “I have a contact at the Dekalb County Jail who’s been looking for volunteer tutors. I’ll pass your name along to him.”

The anger goes out of him as suddenly as it came. He says, “Thanks, Mama. I’m--I’ll do better.”

“I know,” she says gently. “I know you will, sweetheart.”

.

.

Rey’s new GED instructor is a college student who introduces himself as Ben. He’s tall and broad-shouldered with huge, jittery hands and prominent ears that he’s unsuccessfully trying to hide under a mop of pretty hair. He’s hot, in a stuck-up rich boy kind of way, and he looks to be about Rey’s age. Then again, maybe she’s so desperate to feel less alone that any half-decent man would seem appealing.

She barely talks to Ben throughout their first three tutoring sessions. Rey expects him to disappear as soon as the novelty of visiting jail wears off, but he surprises her by coming back for a fourth lesson, then a fifth, a sixth. He’s impatient, awkward, and sarcastic to the point of rudeness, and Rey hates him a little. He radiates dissatisfaction, and what right does a boy like this have to be dissatisfied with his life?

Resenting Ben doesn’t stop her from looking forward to her GED lessons, though. They’ve become the highlight of her time.

They’re working on geometry today. Rey understood proofs two weeks ago, but there’s no fun in making this easy for him, so she asks Ben to elaborate, give new examples, walk her through it again.

“What do you play?” she asks. “Football?”

Ben looks up from the problem he was explaining to her. “What makes you think I play anything?”

She waves her hand toward his chest. “Guys aren’t built like that unless they’re working out or playing sports, and I’ve got a feeling you’d rather tackle someone than count push-ups. So is it football?”

Hot color spreads across Ben’s cheeks, and Rey almost smiles. She wasn’t expecting him to be bashful.

“I’m a swimmer,” he says. “Contact sports didn’t work out too well for me.”

She likes his voice. It’s deep and resonant, but uneven. Ben always sounds like he’s on the verge of saying more than he should, or perhaps shouting when it isn’t appropriate. It keeps her on her toes, wondering what he’s holding back. Thinking of him is a nice distraction to occupy herself with, when she isn’t eating slop or fighting off that Plutt bitch who keeps trying to steal her shit.

Rey leans forward, rests her chin on her crossed arms, and looks up at him. “Were you afraid of getting hurt? Or did you like hitting the other kids too much?”

Ben smiles, a small, nervous twitch at the corner of his full mouth. “Both,” he says.

He turns back to the geometry book, jots down a practice proof on a fresh sheet of paper, and pushes it toward her.

“Here,” Ben says. “Try this one.”

.

.

Ben tutors Rey every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoon through the middle of May. Between his volunteer work at the county jail, a free legal clinic, and the Mission, he scrapes together enough service hours to maintain his fellowship for next year.

Ben tells Rey that, since his semester is over, he’ll only be tutoring her for one more week.

“Oh,” Rey says. She fidgets with his compass, then starts dismantling it.

“I have to go home,” Ben says. “My family lives in D.C.”

He feels like a guilty child who’s been caught wrongdoing, whose excuses won’t hold up to scrutiny.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” Rey says, still taking apart his compass. She unscrews its tiniest pieces and makes quick work of separating them.

“I know that. I just don’t want you to think I’m abandoning you.”

It sounds stupid out loud, and as soon as he hears himself, Ben wishes he could snatch his words right out of the air. Then Rey looks at him sharply. It’s hard to figure out what she’s thinking, but his declaration clearly hit a chord.

“Will you be back?” she asks. “When the new school year starts?”

He shouldn’t ask, but curiosity has been eating at him for six weeks, so Ben says, “I didn’t realize you’d still be here by August. How much time are you in for anyway?”

Rey’s expression hardens. “A year. I’ve served half my sentence.”

He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from asking anymore nosy questions, but Rey rolls her eyes and says, “Shoplifting.”

“What?”

She kicks his chair leg, and it startles Ben into sitting up straighter. “You want to know what got me locked up, right?”

Ben nods, then shakes his head. “Wait, you got a year for shoplifting?”

Her smile is too empty to be a smile at all. “Uh huh. It was my sixth charge, but it’s still pretty fucked up to dump me in here and throw away the key over a dollar and nine cents.”

If Rey didn’t look so serious, Ben would think she’s joking.

“How is that possible?” he asks.

She tells him about the circus of police officers and courts that prosecuted her for stealing apples. Ben can’t figure out how Rey is sitting there, casual and cool-headed while she explains that she’s been unjustly jailed for half a year.

“That’s--I didn’t know--”

Ben stops. He can’t find words strong enough to capture the ugliness of what’s being done to her, and there’s nothing he can say that will help. He reaches forward to take Rey’s hand, then remembers that he’s not allowed to do that. Touch is forbidden in this place, like all other creature comforts. It takes every bit of his discipline not throw his chair through a fucking window.

“This is disgusting,” he says. “You don’t deserve to be here.”

Rey bats the pieces of his compass across the table, stands up, and says, “If you think most of us deserve to be here, then you really don’t see the problem at all.”

She walks away, striding across the dilapidated library like she has somewhere to go. Like she has anywhere to go, caught in this cage like an animal.

When he gets home, Ben calls his mother.

.

.

Rey can’t sleep. She thinks about the parade of foster families that could never tolerate her for long, the ones that taught her a hard lesson: nothing lasts because nobody wants her.

It was stupid to trust Ben Organa. He’s from a different kind of world, one where there’s food on the table, a roof over his head, money to pay for tuition at a fancy school. Rey knew that Ben would never understand her, but she let him in anyway, and now he’s leaving. Going to D.C. to be with a family he probably doesn’t even appreciate.

Rey hums a song Ben taught her a few weeks ago, a simple tune to help her remember the quadratic equation. It doesn’t calm her enough for sleep, but she feels safer for having music muffled in the back of her throat.

.

.

A long time ago, in a town far away, Leia Organa was a lawyer. She climbed the political ladder up to Senator by the time Ben was fifteen, but he knows that it isn’t ambition that motivates her. His mother is the sort of leader who sought a stage so that she could see the injustices below her and do something about correcting them.

And she has a weakness for hopeless cases. It’s the reason why she’s never left her irresponsible husband; why she’s never given up on her difficult, volatile son.

So when he says, “There’s someone who needs your help,” Ben knows that it’s only a matter of time before his mother finds a way to make this right.

.

.

Yesterday morning, a counselor told Rey that an anonymous benefactor donated enough money to cover the cost of an electronic monitor. She’s released the next day, the shiny new monitor clasped around her ankle. It’s lighter than Rey expected, and even though it feels like a shackle, she’d much rather be chained than caged. She’s warned that if she breaks the monitor or leaves the county, then the GPS tracker will alert the authorities immediately.

Rey isn’t surprised when she finds Ben in the waiting area.

He hurries toward her and says, “I’m sorry I couldn’t come by yesterday, to tell you what was happening. I didn’t expect everything to move so fast--”

Rey throws her arms around him and buries her face against his shoulder. Ben is every bit as broad under her hands as he looks, and it makes her feel small and safe when he hugs her back. He smells clean, like fresh laundry and sunshine, and that’s what tears at her most. He smells well-cared for, and for the first time she’s glad instead of jealous that Ben has a place to wash his clothes, that he’s never been shut away from the sun.

“Thank you,” she whispers. Rey wants to say it louder--wants to laugh and maybe kiss him and shout her relief, because she’s free--but she knows that if she does, she’ll start crying.

.

.

Ben noticed Rey’s beauty the day they met, but he hadn’t allowed himself to reflect on it. She was trapped during their encounters, while he was free to come and go, and there were so many rules curtailing those lessons. Now they can talk without other inmates listening in, and they can spend more than three hours together in the same week. They can spend all day together, if she wants to; they can touch.

He takes Rey to his favorite diner and watches her put away a quarter-pound burger, a basket of fries, and a strawberry milkshake. She licks the salt from her fingers, smears ketchup across the corner of her mouth, and finishes her food within five minutes. She scrambles to eat, sloppy and hurried, and he wonders how long it’s been since she had a decent meal.

“Do you have anywhere to go?” Ben asks. “Friends or family you could stay with?”

Rey shakes her head.

He’d thought as much, and it’s almost a comfort to hear that Rey is alone. Ben would be angrier if she did have family, because the kind of parents who could leave her imprisoned over a one-dollar shoplifting charge would be worse than no parents at all.

“You could stay with me,” he says.

Rey looks at him, wide-eyed and tense, suddenly poised on the edge of her seat, like she’s already preparing to run.

That isn’t what he meant to say, even if it is what he wants, and Ben tries to explain. “I’ve got plenty of room, and I don’t mind staying here for the summer. You could crash with until you to get back on your feet.”

Rey scowls and crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t need anymore of your charity.”

Ben bites back the nasty answer he wants to give: that beggars can’t be choosers, and her pride isn’t worth more than her life.

Cruelty comes to him so naturally; it’s a difficult truth that Ben has finally accepted, after twenty years of trying to overcome it. All he can do is reign in the malignity that lives within himself and act like a better man than he is.

So Ben breathes, grips the edge of the table, counts to ten. “I can help, if you’ll stop being stubborn and just let me.”

Rey won’t look at him now. Her voice sounds softer, her conviction weaker, when she says, “I’m not some pet project.”

Ben reaches across the table, but he stops short of taking her hand. “Look, you might have noticed that I’m kind of an asshole. Do you really think I’d offer you a place to stay out of pity?”

Rey bites her lip, holding her silence.

“Well I wouldn’t,” he says. “You need a friend, and--”

I do too.

Rey inches her fingers closer to his, until he feels safe enough to grasp her hand. Hard, probably too hard, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

.

.

Ben takes her to the park. It’s startling to see summer in full bloom, the sky bright and cloudless, the air sharp with the scent of mown grass. Rey was sentenced in November, after the trees were stripped bare by the cold, so the last time she saw the real world it was slipping toward winter weather. The jail yard didn’t count; it was drab and poorly tended, trampled under a thousand weary feet, more brown than green. And it was fenced in, the same as everything else there.

“I forgot what it was like to really be outside,” Rey says.

Ben squeezes her hand. He’s been holding it ever since they left the diner, only letting go when he has to. It should probably bother her, the way he’s clinging, but Rey can’t get enough. She’s been starved of touch for so long that it’s intoxicating to find someone who gives too much, too easily, too fiercely. It terrifies her, though, because Ben might want her to give as much back to him--soon, if not at this moment. What scares Rey even more is that she might not mind that.

They wander the park together, fingers entwined, close enough that Rey can feel the warmth of Ben’s strong body at her side. The world looks clearer and cleaner than it has in a long while: flowering, open, alive, and green, green, green.

[kuwaiti-kid]

My Top 5 Tips on How to Declutter Your Home

Cathy, my wife has been trying to declutter our home for years. I've been the stubborn one and resisted the effort. She finally wore me down. And boy, am I glad she did. Her efforts got us quite a little bounty for stuff that's been sitting around the house gathering dust. 

I invited Cathy to share the steps she took to turn our stuff into some nice cash. When the initial declutter was complete, she made over $3,000. She’s the brains and the organizer for these types of projects. For the most part, I’m the labor (and I’m free)!

If you want to learn how to sell things quickly, efficiently, and get the most money for your items, this post is for you.

I'd also recommend you check out one of my blogger friends, Melissa Blevins's post Decluttering – Maria Kondo: Using the Kon Mari Method of Tidying Up.

With that, take it away, Cathy!

How to Declutter Your Home

Since Fred began this blog, I started reading articles from some of the bloggers he's met. Many of them write on how to save, and make extra money,

I remembered all the items in the house we had accumulated over the last 20 years, thinking we would use them again. Or, maybe I would sell them. I finally decided to take the plunge and began selling the household goods we hadn't touched in years.

Craigslist

I started with placing items on Craigslist. After a relatively short time,  I stopped. I found there are many scammers on the site and only a few serious buyers

One scam is the PayPal scam. In it, potential buyers would send me an email asking to place money in my PayPal account. They said they would send someone to pick up the item the next day. They usually had an excuse of being out of town or something.

After being hit several times by the scammers, I received this notice from Craigslist saying: 

“Please be wary of distant ‘buyers' responding to your ad! Many sellers receive replies from scammers hoping to defraud them through schemes involving counterfeit cashier's checks and/or wire transfers. These checks will clear the bank, but the person cashing the check will be held responsible when the fraud is discovered. More info on scams can be found at this web address”.

One scammer was very pushy. I finally had to threaten to track them down and turn them in if they didn’t stop emailing me.

Facebook

I decided to try selling the items on the Facebook Yard Sales in different cities around Fairfax County. I started by placing things on the Facebook yard sale site for Reston and Vienna, a town close to Reston. Facebook Market Place covers a broader surrounding area.

I began with small items like the usual decorations, kitchen items, linens, purses, etc. The bags went quick. You have to let kitchen items sit until the right buyer comes along. Sales started becoming very easy to make. Putting stuff on Facebook yard sale from my computer was perfect for me.

The Facebook yard sale is much better than preparing for an actual yard sale. In a yard sale, you drag everything out of the house and wait for people to get there. Whatever doesn't sell (usually a lot of things) you have to haul back into the house or take to Goodwill.

What a pain! Selling online is way better than an actual yard sale.

You might also like: 10 Decluttering Tips to Simplify Your Life and Reclaim Your Home

Tip #1: Take good photos

A good photo of the item is a must, not only one angle but a couple.

Edit your photo for clarity. Make sure the brand name is visible. The lighting should not be blaring on your item. You may need to try a couple of different locations in the house to make it look its best.

Another way for a good photo is to Google your item. Find the exact item. Be sure you’re looking at a replica. From there, copy the image of the picture to place in the add. Most of the time, a replica picture online has lighting that's much better and shows the item more clearly. 

Here's a side table bookshelf I sold for $53 (originally purchased for $100). We used it for the last ten years. Someone bought it as soon as I placed the picture showing how to use the shelf.

        The first picture is from a copied image online. The second is the actual shelf in front of my fireplace.

Here’s another example:

When Fred's mom passed away. I inherited her collection of teacups. They sat on our shelves for years. We never once used them. Fred is a sentimental person. It's hard for him to let go of things like this. He finally agreed it was time to sell his mom's small collection. So I went to work.

The footed Demitasse Cup & Saucer set Lavender Rose by Royal is a Vintage item from the 1960s. The pictures are image copies. The lighting is perfect, and if you blow them up, you can see the clarity in the photos.

I took the second picture. It’s an Antique Mitterteich Demitasse Footed Cup & Saucer Blue/Gold with small pearls, made in Germany in perfect condition.

                                You can see the difference! Remember I’ve only been using my iPhone 8 to take the pictures.        

Finding the exact item online can be a bit challenging at times. If you copy the image make sure it matches and shows what you're selling.

Declutter Tip #2: Make a detailed description

It's important to write a detailed description of whatever you're selling. I've found the more detail, the better.

One way to find the wording is to Google whatever you're selling. Remember to make sure it’s the replica of the item. If so, there is usually a good description.

Finding your piece can be tedious but taking the time is worth it. That helps you get top dollar and sell the item faster.

Here are a couple of examples:

Footed Demitasse Cup & Saucer Set; Lavender Rose by Royal. Vintage item from the 1960s; Material: Ceramic, Height: 2 3/4 in, Width: 3 1/2 in, Special Characteristics: MONTROSE Bone, and Crafted in England.

That was all I could find on the Mitterteich Demitasse. I was lucky to see that because they are not around any longer. After hours of looking, I found out they made these in Occupied Japan during World War II.

Gorgeous Antique Mitterteich Demitasse Footed Cup & Saucer Blue/Gold. Made in Germany. Perfect Condition.

The buyer who came to purchase the teacups had a collection of over 150. She said they were a perfect match for her collection. When people visit, she serves tea in them. She prides herself that those who come never use the same cup. That was a fun sale.

You might also like Here are 5 Things I Won't Give Up Just to Save Money Your Values and Your Money – Do They Align?

Declutter Tip #3: Compare your price to a comparable new item

Example:

Like new Schwinn Recumbent Stationary Bike.

                  Goal Track capability enables a user to set individual exercise goals

20 levels of resistance for a wide range of workout intensity options

High speed, high inertia drive system for easy start-up and smooth, quiet workouts

DualTrack™ 2 LCD screen displays offer increased visibility to programs and goal tracking

22 preset workout programs: 9 profile, eight heart rate control, two fitness test, one quick start

Seat rail slider system with easy adjust lever customizes the fit for each user

Charging USB port to keep phones, tablets or music players at full battery life:

MP3 input to listen to your favorite playlist through in-console speakers. Dimensions are 64 X 27.7 X 50 inches and 300 pounds

New on Amazon $429 or used $290, plus $84 to assemble. We had the bike assembled professionally. We bought it in 2017.

I sold the bike for $280. It was like new. Fred bought the bike for me from Amazon. I found it uncomfortable to ride. We joined a local gym and had pretty much stopped using the bike.

I’m sure you can tell my picture versus the copied image from Amazon. This item sold quickly close to asking price of $300.

Declutter Tip #4: Be patient

A few years ago, Fred and I bought brand new road bikes.

Mine was a Specialized Roubaix Pro II. We had it custom fitted for me. We loved biking together. He’s 6’3″ and me 5’4″. I could never keep up with him on the rides. That was true before and after the purchase of this gorgeous bike. But we still made it work.

Here are a couple of pictures of the bike I loved. It was a 2010 Specialized Road Bike. 

            You will notice the description is quite detailed, and I was asking the blue book price of $600.Yes, we discovered bikes have a blue book value. Here's what I found online with help from an REI bike expert:

Specialized Roubaix Pro II, 700 x 23c w/Flak Jacket puncture protection. Components Brakeset: Shimano 105; Shift Levers: Shimano 105 Rear Cogs: Shimano 105, 10-speed: 12-27;

Saddle: Specialized Body Geometry Avatar Gel;

Handlebar: Specialized Pro Ergo, aluminum

Handlebar Stem: Specialized Comp-Set, aluminum.

Specialized's Roubaix Comp Compact is a zippy road machine that rides so smoothly and comfortably that you can easily double your mileage. Specialized's Zertz vibration-damping elastomer inserts boost the carbon fiber's inherent road-smoothing qualities, while the back-friendly riding position gives you miles of comfort and control.

Plus, the 20-speed Shimano 105 drivetrain delivers the right gearing for every ride, while the reliable Mavic Aksium wheelset rolls effortlessly and is built to last.

And, this carbon beauty comes with a full complement of Specialized's excellent aluminum components.

Size 29″ or 49cm.

Makes you want to but it right now, doesn't it?

As I mentioned, I‘m 5'4. The representative at Spokes in Vienna did a beautiful job fitting me to this bike. It's a men's bike.

They built this bike for both comfort and speed. I've never ridden a more comfortable bike.

The buyer

I ended up receiving $550.00 for the bike. The cool story is the bike was fitted to me, a 5’4 frame. The bike fits me like a glove. It was a fantastic and comfortable ride for me. We would ride for hours, so it had to be comfortable.

Several people looked at the bike. Most were men, and it was to short for them. I left it on the Market, and Facebook yard sales for almost two months. I thought it would never sell.

On a Friday evening, I received a Facebook message from a gal who was interested and wanted to see it on Saturday. My first question was what is your height. She said 5’4 ½. (I think she could be the one!). The next morning around 11 am, she shows up.

I offered her my helmet, gloves, etc. She mentioned she had just finished an Ironman and was riding a big clunker of a bike. It had a steel frame. She said it was time for her to step it up and purchase a bike more suitable for her competitions. We turned her lose on the bike, and waited, and waited for her to return.

The joyful ride

When she returned from the ride, the look on her face was one of joy. She said she'd really “kicked it out” on the bike; that she loved it and a wanted to take it. As it turns out, she is in the military and works at the Pentagon and bikes to work every day.

It made me very happy to sell the bike to someone I knew would take care of it. I mentioned the bike was always kept inside and serviced each year. I included extra tires for a flat, a specialized tire pump, bike rack for $50, and a little bag to attach to the bike. She was happy, and I was even more pleased. We are friends on Facebook, and she sends me pictures of the bike.

I walked away with $600.00 from that sale, plus enjoyed riding the bike for eight years plus. 

When something doesn't sell

Books and magazines will not sell on the Market Place or Facebook yard sales.

We found a local bookstore called 2nd and Charles in Woodbridge. We took ten boxes of books, everything from non-fiction, Christian, self-help, decorating, cookbooks, etc. The bookstore took almost five days to rummage through the boxes. They called with an offer, which we accepted. There were three boxes of the books they didn’t buy. They gave us $75 for the others.

They have a “free bin” on the front sidewalk of the store. We left the other three small boxes of items there. The last thing we wanted was to haul boxes of books back in the house. We were happy to get what we did.

Declutter Tip #5: Watch your ads

On the market, you have to renew the ad every seven days. And that's an excellent time to change the price, wording or even a picture. Sometimes providing an idea of what to do with an item if it’s not obvious already.

For instance, I had a large basket which I placed little blankets in to keep the clutter down in the family room. I mentioned this on the add when selling the basket. The eventual buyer said the idea is what made her want the basket. If small things are not selling like a basket, kitchen item, etc. I will mark it down a $1 or $2, to push it back to the top of the list.

A lot of the items I’ve sold have been the Market Place top picks for weeks. By following the tips, your piece could be a top pick in your neighborhood.

In case you can’t decide what to sell here’s a list of some of the items I’ve sold:

[table id=10 /]

It looks like I’m over $3,000 as of this writing. And I just sold the Vintage Shafford Pitcher, which was collecting dust.

The beautiful thing is the clutter in my home is becoming less. I’m selling items we have not touched in years.

Watching the excitement on the buyer’s face is fun and rewarding. It’s interesting to see how much money I can make on this stuff. It's also fun to see others get excited about the things you're discarding.

Final thoughts

It's Fred here with some closing thoughts.

I can't tell you how little patience I have for this kind of thing. If it were up to me, things would likely never get sold and still be taking up space. I've never seen anyone as patient and detail oriented as Cathy with this kind of thing. She's persistent. And she's a tough negotiator. I've watched her over the past few months get better and better at it.

Since my office is at home, I'm the one that handles the transaction end of the deals. She's right about how joyful many of the buyers are.

Last week, a guy came to by an old TV from us for $30.00. He came to the door while his son (probably nine or ten years old) stood outside and watched. You could see how excited the son was. Though he didn't say, the dad was likely buying the TV for his son.

The woman who bought the teacups was a real jewel. She and her husband have a very successful landscaping and nursery business. I remember the conversation Cathy had with her on the phone. I heard her asking Cathy what else she had to sell. She ended up buying $160.00 worth of stuff.

She sent Cathy a text to tell how much she loved one particular item. I never dreamed we could get that kind of money out of things that sat for so long and, for which we had no use. And I'm grateful to Cathy for having what it takes to do this and sharing her strategies with all of you.

I hope you found it helpful. If you did, let Cathy know in the comments below.

Now it's your turn. Have you decluttered your house? If so, did you sell things? Give them away? A combination? Let us know in the comments below.

from Your Money Geek https://ift.tt/3gsMbpz via IFTTT

[isaulitzsch-blog]

31 Things to Do Before 31

I know many bucket lists roam the internet, and many say the same things or are overly ambitious. Unrealistic, some might say. Mine below will likely suffer the same criticism, but nevertheless I am determined to accomplish at least 2/3 of this list – with which I would be very pleased (I believe it is called ‘managing expectations’).  

I started this list some time before my 30th birthday – probably around August or September time – but now that I am 30 years and 3 weeks old (how is that for timing), I felt it was high time to put an end to this indecisiveness, and just do it. Because in the end, I needed to realise, this is not an exhaustive list by any means, but merely a motivator and inspiration to be aware of time being precious, and experiences and achievements valuable. And I had to remind myself that I have done and achieved some great things in life already (reading through some of those bucket lists helped with that), but that I also pushed a lot aside that really should be the centre of attention for various reasons. So to help me commit to it, I am sharing it on the good old internet. Feel free to hold me accountable, cheer me on, or simply live your life as before. :-)

1.

Visit 30 Countries (and among that one unvisited continent) – for me that is 9 more countries, or at the very least 7 (depending on if I choose to count England, Wales and Scotland as separate countries). The Inca Trail would be awesome, or Vietnam and Thailand. So much choice, so much to see.  

2. 

Baltics Cycle Tour – great way to make progress on No.1 and it is a beautiful scenic trip across Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia that allows an active element to this. Hopefully even with some friends. Because road trips are so 2008 ^^

3.

Three Peaks Challenge – while I am still debating on whether to do it in 24 hours (not sure hiking up Skafell Pyke during night hours will provide the same satisfaction without its views as reward), I think even doing the three peaks in three days would be an exciting achievement.

4.

A Murder Mystery – while I hear it is fun to host them yourself at home, I want to experience professionals at work, without even knowing it technically.  

Solo Performances – I love singing (watch out you may hear that again down the line) and I have not performed nearly as much solo as I would like to, simply for reasons of confidence and opportunity! Singing in front of an audience is so nerve-wracking, but powerful and uplifting. It creates a wonderful connection, and I have always been better at expressing myself through song. Perhaps purely because I enjoy it so much. This is why I want to make more of an effort again to find platforms to do exactly that.  

Complete 7 Paintings – VERY ambitious, because I get super frustrated over my perfectionism. If it does not look the way I envisage or hope, it remains unfinished. Or worse, not even started. So those 7 canvases that have been sitting under my easel for...well, forever...need life in them.  

Read 30 Books – while I have some classics I would like to read, I am always open to suggestions. Avoid the fat ones though.

Breaking Some Bad Habits (at least try harder) – Nail biting. Must. Stop. Indecisiveness. Must Stop. Annoyance over little things. Must. Stop.

Parachute or Skydive – for the Adrenaline Kick. I really want to go water rafting as well. And at some point one does perhaps get too old for some of these things, or at least priorities certainly change.  

30-minute Flying Lesson – I am quite a nervous flyer, at least during take off and turbulence. And, come on, how cool is having the opportunity to see the world from a cockpit.  

Dance Class with Ben – we will have our first dance sooner or later (I hope), so we may as well get practicing – and dancing is fun and social ;-)

Make our Own Geocaching Series – Ben and I enjoy geocaching together as a way of exploring the outdoors, and we always try to get at least one in a foreign country we travel to; but we often enough have said we would like to hide our own little series, that it is just befitting for it to make this list.  

Sober in October x2 – It is a small price to pay for a good cause, which is why I am happy to put this on the list twice, so to speak. And it helps with No.19 certainly.  

Job Satisfaction – It is easy to fall into the ‘9 to 5’ trap, where we get up, mindlessly go to work, and maybe, if we have enough energy to do something in the evening, we might, before going to sleep - repeat. I want to embrace my job more consciously and reflect on what is important to me, on how I make more of a difference in the work place.  

Send Christmas parcels with Samaritan’s Purse – This is one I wanted to do last year, but got hung up in other things too much and missed the deadline. Poor excuses!  

Musical Theatre Class – I have always enjoyed singing, acting, dancing – performing! Singing in a choir – or two rather – is not quite as challenging for me, and I would like to see if I would be any use in musical theatre. Don’t worry, I don’t expect to have a breakthrough career on the West End...  

Theatre and/or Film Audition - does this really need explaining? ;-)

Dans le Noir – because who does not enjoy the idea of being able to indulge in fabulous food however you wish without anyone judging :-D

Take Care of My Body – a consciously healthier diet (yes, less sugar – it will kill me); a regular exercise routine for stamina and core (I think I will no longer get around Pilates); better sleep (I cannot recall the last time I slept through, felt rested or was not sore in the morning); ... .  

Volunteer 30 Hours – Not just around Christmas.  

Send 30 Cards/Letters – not postcards! Or birthday cards! Or occasion cards!

Know My Camera Better – at least the basics that allow me to switch off the Auto mode when I need, and take more focused pictures (without getting frustrated).

Sort my Photos and Make Holiday Photo Albums – although this is a bit more of a ‘To Do’, I am keen to cherish past experiences more and appreciate what opportunities I have had, and continue to have. Nowadays it is far too easy to take a gazillion pictures but to never truly look at them and reflect.  

Family Tree/Ancestry Test – maybe I’ll get behind the mystery of my red hair :-D

Finish my Website to Go Live – this has been sitting and brewing for ages. With so many platforms out there nowadays, it is nice to collate achievements and interests in one central place and really value the sheer amount of them while doing so. Not to mention that I have wanted to make a professional portfolio for ages, too.

Keep a Blog – which I once started  in July 2012 with one entry and never continued. For my benefit really, but hopefully someone may find them an interesting read at least.  

Run a 5k and a 10k (and beat Ben) – if I manage No.19, this should be super easy – and all for good causes! The Colour Run looks super fun, too.

Start a Vinyl Collection (and finally get a vinyl player) – Ben laughed when I told him I wanted to add this to my list. “You’ve been saying that for years”, he said. Perfect!

Better Energy, Better Relaxing – those may seem contradictory, but they make sense to me. While I often feel lazy and uninspired, I am also the kind of person who wants to do things - exciting, fun things - all the time.  I want experiences. Equally, I am incapable of fully relaxing, of fully winding down. I enjoy a hot bath, with just water or a nice glass of wine, candle light, ‘Dresdner Essenz’ bathing salts and a good facial mask - but also usually choose to either read, watch a TV show or film, or listen to music. Because if I choose to do nothing, my mind wanders, overthinks. I would like to learn to channel my energy at the right time, while learning to switch off – and leave things run their course without worrying.  

Learn a New Skill – Ben suggested I should learn an instrument (by that he really means guitar!). While I have played keyboard when I was younger and would love to learn an instrument again properly (I do rock the air guitar look), I am also quite keen to learn something completely new – something I have never tried or do in some other capacity already. Ideas anyone?  

Archery – I have tried it once at a