#anyway if I could change anything it’d be the shoes.

[ratislatis]

that beehive design in ep 9 was FIRE so of course I drew him and nothing but 😊

I’m new to the community and I’ve never consumed Hermitcraft fanart please be gentle 🥲

[hidden-poet]

Commander Snow; 9

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns, explicit, violence, death, sexual assault

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

chapter 9

Chapter 10

When you woke in the morning, the feeling of crushing weight had been released from your chest. The cold mountain air was easy to breathe, and you were now at ease with your loved ones so close. 

It had been three weeks since you had escaped. Not a soul had bothered you here. The mountain was too steep and difficult to search. 

You felt safe with Edmund here. Like the nightmare was finally over. 

Each morning when you woke, Edmund was the first you would look for. You often found him just outside your cabin door by the campfire.

This morning was no exception. 

“Good morning,” he greeted. He was chopping large blocks of wood into smaller pieces for the fire.

“Hey. Did you need a hand?” You walk down the steps of the cabin to where he worked. 

“Sure. Can you make a pile from the wood?”

You trip over the sole of your broken boot. They were too old to survive the mountains. Edmund stops his work to watch you trot over, trying to kick your shoe back in place.

“I was going to go down later this morning to pick up some more flour, and fruit. I’ll see if Vincent’s daughters have any spare shoes.”

You hated when he went down the mountain to get more supplies. Always sure that he wouldn’t return.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” you comment.

“Even if they’re not your size, it’d be better than what you got.”

“I meant to go down. It’s dangerous. Peacekeepers are still looking for us.”

“Ah, I’ll be right.” Edmund takes up his work again, swinging the ax down, “They’re looking in the wrong spots anyway. I had Frances tell a guard you were hiding in the canal beneath the wash house. They’ll be searching for weeks.”

You imagine Coriolanus wading through dirty water and laugh at the thought.

“In any case. My shoes will be fine. I don’t want you wasting your money on me.”

“My money? It’s you who got Snow to send the money to your mother. Boy, was I glad to get that letter!”

He stands tall and pulls an imaginary letter out of his pocket, pretending to read it.

“Dear Edmund, I think of you every day. Wishing, wanting, waiting for you to come to me. I dream about how handsome you are. Strong and smart too.”

You laugh at him. 

“I think Snow wrote that one.”

He laughs with you but all too soon the mood turns back somber.

“I was really worried about you, you know? We all were."

He reaches out to take your hand into his. 

“I was so worried about you!” You twist his hand so you can place a kiss on the back of it. 

“I kept thinking about you trapped with him. I had no idea what he was doing to you.”

You knew what he was insinuating and the thought of it made you shudder. You were his. Would he want you less if he believed that Coriolanus had already touched you? Was that why he had reverted to treating you like a kid? He hadn’t touched you like lovers do since you have been here. Was it because Coriolanus had already marked his territory?

You push his hand away, irritated at the thought. 

“He didn’t do anything to me.”

He reaches back and brushes over the almost healed bruised spots on your neck. You recoil in embarrassment. The night in the kitchen fills your mind. You felt a pool of embarrassment form in your stomach. You should have hated it all but as you remember it, your legs squeeze tighter. It felt good, and you didn't feel like  a victim because of it. 

“You know it doesn’t matter. What he did or didn’t do. It doesn’t change anything.”

“Shut up,” you beg. “Let's just agree to never talk about him again. He’s gone, or will be. Dead to the district and to us.”

“Okay,” Edmund agrees. “I am sorry.”

 You felt bad for lashing out at him when he was only trying to help. You had promised yourself just days ago to be the best thing that had ever happened to him. 

“I’ll go cook breakfast, alright? ‘’

Edmund had caught some fish just yesterday. Even scaled and prepared them for you. And this is how you repaid him?

You go back into the cabin and start to warm up the hot plate in the corner. Coriolanus was far away, yet he still seemed to haunt you. Sometimes you felt his fingertips graze your skin. 

He came to you at night mostly, when Edmund wasn’t around to distract you.

You would wake up swearing that you could feel his weight on top of you. You would wake up checking for bruises from where he held you down but your skin was clear. 

You thought the clear air would push him out but he was stuck and you couldn’t shake him out. 

Would it always be like this? Would your life with Edmund be plagued by thoughts of Coriolanus?

 No. You just need to focus more on Edmund. Time would take care of the rest.  

You push any other thought apart from cooking the fish out of your head. Preparing the food to perfection would exonerate you from your earlier thoughts. 

—- 

Nights were colder up in the mountains then at the compound. Edmund lent you a jacket but it did little to keep out the cold. It added to your sleep troubles. Some nights you would only get an hour or two. Some nights you wouldn’t sleep at all. 

You toss and turn next to your mother, trying not to wake her. You felt unsettled. Too unsettled to sleep. 

Edmund slept on the floor beside you thinking that it might help you sleep. 

You found yourself wanting to be held. After nights with Coriolanus you had gotten used to being coddled. 

You move off the bed and onto the floor next to Edmund. 

“Hey, stranger,” he whispers. 

A lazy arm is thrown over you but it isn’t enough. 

You push closer. “Tighter,” you demand. 

He obliged but it still wasn't enough. Coriolanus would hold you so tight, you felt like it was hard to breathe. You used to hate it but as it turns out you can’t sleep without it. 

Edmund smelt nicer. A soft woody smell. 

He treated you nicer too. Let you choose what you did. You could be angry with him if you chose to. He wouldn’t seek to punish you for it. 

Coriolanus tried to buy your love. Edmund tried to earn it. 

You would learn to sleep without needing to be held in time. 

In the meantime Edmund would be there to support you.

—-----

You sit with Edmund by the campfire while the others sleep. Edmund had paid a informant handsomely to relay District information. He came once a week, late at night to avoid being caught. 

You throw a stick into the fire, your boredom and irritation building the longer it takes. 

“Do we have enough money for him to keep coming up here to tell us the same thing? Peacekeepers are still searching, Snow’s angry. I could tell you that.”

“Roger has his use.  He only needs to give us one piece of crucial information to make the money worth it.” 

“And if we run out before he gives it to us?”

Edmund throws his own stick in the fire, watching it burn. 

“We’ll be right. We still have the three panams from Snow. I have a little left in savings, by the time all that runs dry, it’ll be mining season again.

“Mining season? Surely this will be over by then. We can’t hide here amongst everyone.”

��What choice do we have, Y/N? The Peacekeepers haven’t let up. We can’t go back to the District. When you mine together, you become family. They wouldn’t betray me.” 

Betray him, sure. But you were no one to them. You open your mouth to argue this point but the sound of kicked rocks draws your attention. 

A little man in gray, worn clothing and a cap covering his bald head is lightened by the fire. 

“You’re late.” Edmund comments. 

“Yeah well, Peacekeepers have doubled patrolling the area at night. I come late or I don’t come at all.” 

“Well?” Edmund pushes. He stands up with the coins in his hands. 

“Ravenstill’s dead. Snow’s gone back to the Capitol,” the man spits out on the grass before continuing talking, “Saw him get on the train this mornin’ myself.” 

You sigh in victory. He was gone. Now all that was left was to wait out the attention span of the Peacekeepers. 

“Hold on now. I didn’t say he was staying away. Peacekeeper tells me he’ll be back by the time the week is out with the new Commander.”

“But then he’s gone, right? District 12 can’t have two Commanders?” You rise next to Edmund. 

The older man shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe. He’s offering a large reward for your capture.” 

“Yeah, well I’m offering your life.” Edmund’s voice is hard and threatening. He throws the coin pouch at the man who catches it. 

“Settle, boy. I ain't no traitor. I am just saying it seems unlikely that he would offer up such a price only to walk away.” 

“Keep us updated on the movements of Snow and the areas the Peacekeepers are targeting.”

The man opens the coin pouch to look inside before nodding his head and turning back the way he came.

You take hold of Edmund’s arm. You worried for his fate if you were found. You worried for your own fate. He was unbearable when you failed to escape. Now you have succeeded, what laid ahead if you were to return?

—------

You began to have nightmares of Coriolanus finding you. You would wake with your mother's arms wrapped around you, and Edmund calling your name. 

The dreams always ended the same, no matter how they started; with everyone dead at your feet. 

You would run and hide from him in the forest like the night at the cabin. He would find his way into the cabin late at night and crawl on top of you while your protectors slept. One time he dropped from the sky. 

But you woke to find he hadn’t found you yet.

You avoided going to sleep. Your mother joined in solidarity, despite your protests. She would stay up with you to chase the bad thoughts away. 

Edmund's mother stayed up too. She didn’t want to be the only adult asleep. 

You all wait for the update Roger will bring. 

You sit next to Edmund watching the flames. You don’t hear the man approaching until Edmund's mother greets him. The man offers a head nod back but his attention is for Edmund. 

“Peacekeepers are still searching. Mainly in the city blocks. Rumor that she was seen selling cupcakes in town.” 

You scoff at the thought. At least it kept the Peacekeepers preoccupied. 

“Alright,” Edmund throws the money to Roger but the man doesn’t disappear, “Was there something else?” 

“Her brother,” your heart stops beating. “They got him locked up in the Capitol jail.” 

You shoot up from the log in a panic. 

You feel Edmund grab your hand but can’t hear the words that he is telling you. 

“It’s alright. It’s alright,” he finally breaks through, “They won’t hurt him. He’s all the leverage they’ve got.” 

“God. Edmund, what if they do? It’ll be my fault.” Your tears choke you as you speak.

“They won’t. He’ll be safe, okay. He wouldn’t kill him unless he knew you knew.” 

“What are we going to do? I have to go back. He’ll let him go if I-”

“Don’t be stupid. If you go back now, he’ll use Archie to keep you in line forever.” 

“We can’t leave him there.”

“We won’t. If he wants the presidency he’ll have to go back to the Capitol. We wait him out, and when the new Commander comes, he’ll see Archie was kept for no reason and we will buy him back.” 

Your mother sat sobbing and you joined her. 

Dear God, what have you done?

“From what I was told, they ain't hurt him.”

“See?” Edmund says, “So long as you stay hidden, there would be no point in hurting him.” 

Edmund’s mother comes over and wraps her arms around her elder son. Archie was special to her too. 

You had put all her sons in danger. In her heart, there was no more room for you.

—------------

The news of Archie’s arrest had dampened spirits. The days were long and everyone was irritable.

Edmund feared for his friend. You feared for your brother.

He had spent all his life protecting you, now only for you to get him killed. You wished you were still a little girl waiting by the door for your older brother to come home from work. It was a similar feeling to now. The dread of him not coming home filled you.

You wondered how Coriolanus got him on the train. Was it under threat? Did he beat Archie into submission? Or did he lie and deceive Archie?

Your mother was adamant that his capture was not your fault. Even if that was true, Archie’s detention was. You knew Coriolanus would let you trade yourself for your brother. But Edmund was right, if you folded now your family would always be ready for capture to be used against you.

Edmund’s mother was less sympathetic to it all. You had dragged her family into this and now the boy she considered a third son was rotting in jail because you were too precious to submit to the Commander like the rest of District 12.

She was cold to you, never speaking directly to you and only offering glaring stares. Being treated so terribly oddly felt validating. People should be angry with you. You had put them in danger.

You look at Edmund's little brother across the other side of the campfire. He clung to his mother's skirt, resting his head on her lap. He was just a boy, you couldn’t bear it if a hair on his head was harmed. And yet you have asked him to hide in a mountain with you. Leave his school and his friends behind.

No one had spoken for hours as you sat together around the camp, so when Edmund moved suddenly it caught everyone's attention. 

He shoots up from where you rested upon him on the log to gaze out as smoke ringlets circle the sky. 

“Get your things. Make sure to leave nothing behind.”

None of you move, perplexed at his outburst. 

“Now!” he shouts, “Move!” 

His anxiety caused you all to jump up and follow his command. He kicks dirt over the campfire to make it look unused while the rest of you pack what little you have. 

 You came with nothing so you focused on the pots and pans, and stripping the beds. 

He joins you as you work with his mother and brother to clean their room. 

“What’s going on?” His mother demands but doesn’t stop her work of shoving clothes into a sack held by her youngest son. 

“Peacekeepers are searching the mountains.” 

“Where are we going to go?” you panic. They would search all of the mountains. 

“The mines. They won’t search there. Too unstable for people who don’t know what they are doing.” 

He takes the bag of pans off you and throws it over his shoulder. 

The mines were a dangerous place to hide, and there was no certainty that the Peacekeepers wouldn’t search them. If they did you would be trapped. They would just keep pushing forward until your group reached a dead end.

Nevertheless, Edmunds leads the group to the trail that leads into the mines. 

You couldn’t decide what would be worse, dying by a Peacekeeper or in a mine like your father. 

But with Edmund’s hand in yours, at least the rocks of the mountain would let you keep him. The Peacekeepers would tear you from him only in death. 

Even with the bags of stuff, the trail is tread quickly.

The cave is dark and so, so cold. You hide in the shadows with your group. Edmund stands to the front once he has herded the group into safe standing. 

It is completely silent for what feels like a lifetime. Nothing but the birds in the trees and the wind. It lulls you into a false sense of security. Maybe Edmund was wrong. Maybe his source on the other side was mistaken and blew the smoke prematurely. But soon a distant sound of heavy tire treads could be heard rolling up the hill.

You ignored the first sign of people approaching. But as they got heavier and the talking got louder, it got harder to assure yourself that you wouldn’t be found.

You clutch Edmund's arms. You feel it move to reach for the pocketknife in his pocket. 

Peacekeepers call to each other. They were close, you could hear clearly as they spoke. 

“Hey, let's go.”

“Commander Snow said every inch”.

“You lookin’ to get killed? Those mines collapse all the time.” 

You hold your breath waiting. Should you walk out now to save everybody else?

“Come on, man. No one’s here. We’ve still got half the forest to get to. Come on.”

You feel Edmund relax under you as the Peacekeepers walk away. 

None of you move. The threat remains in the woods. None of you were safe until the Peacekeepers were out of the woods and had reported to Coriolanus that nothing was there. 

The mountains were large, you wondered how many Peacekeepers had been spared to search it. Even if thirty men, it would take a whole day at least.

It was a whole day spent in the cave, waiting for the Peacekeepers to come back. But no sound was ever heard.

Night falls before Edmund makes the call to investigate. 

His mother kisses him before he leaves. 

You cringe under her stare. You had put her baby boy in danger. It was your fault that she now had to hide in the mountains away from her home. 

It will be a rocky start once all of this is over. How could you work to earn back her affection after all the pain you have caused her? 

Edmund's little brother had taken over the role of protector. He stood at the front of the cave, tall and fierce like his brother had. He clutched his knife and looked out into the night with a hunter's eyes.

Edmund was gone for hours but his little brother never tired of his role. If Peacekeepers turned up, the little boy was ready.

You watch over him as his mother makes what little she can from the food.

A dark figure cast into the cave, and you grab the little boy, pulling him back against you to protect him. It was too tall, too broad for Edmund. You shrink back into the shadows as it approaches, reaching down to pull the knife from the boy. On instinct, you open your mouth to scream but it is Edmund's voice that calls you. 

“They are gone. Cars are gone, and there are no markings to pick up the search. They won’t return.”

You shake the fear out of you and release Edmund's brother from your protective hold. 

Coriolanus had weaved himself into your mind. Every shadow; every sound was him. 

You needed Edmund to take his place, but he often acted like a ghost to you, touching you only in reproach. 

You wanted to keep something from Coriolanus' reach. To give some shred of you to Edmund that could never be given back. 

You started by hugging him tight. 

—---

You had decided to sleep with Edmund at the first opportunity after the scare yesterday.

It was hard to pin him down between his hunting, working around the camp, and his family. 

You felt like his shadow as you lingered, trying to single out his attention. 

He would offer you a smile every time you saw him but wouldn’t stop his work. 

You followed him into the woods but his brother would insist on coming to learn how to shoot. 

Back at camp, his mother blocked you from his attention. It seemed impossible to gain an audience with him. 

You tried to tell him what you wanted but the words would never form in your mouth. He was always too busy to hear them anyway. Telling you to wait until back at camp to tell him what you were trying to say. But camp was too crowded so you always pretended to forget what you wanted to say. 

It took three days of pining before the mothers took the washing to the lake. It would take them all day to rinse and dry the clothes and sheets. Normally you would go and help but today you had a goal in mind. 

You hide Edmund’s catch from this morning and tell Edmund’s brother that another animal had run off with dinner tonight. You had asked him to go catch fish but he was determined that he could catch actual prey. He was a hunter like his brother, he insisted. 

Whatever got him lost for a couple of hours. He didn’t actually have to catch anything but you hoped he did. You would boast about him at dinner. He was a good kid and deserved more attention. 

“Hey,” Edmund greeted you. He had gone to collect more firewood and you had grown impatient waiting for him to get back. 

“Where is everyone?” 

You don’t answer him. He looked so handsome, slightly covered in dirt from his work. 

You wanted this to be the moment you remember forever. If Coriolanus did find you, you wanted to at least have this memory of Edmund. 

He looks confused as you grab his arm and pull him into the cabin but follows your direction. 

You slam the door shut and push Edmund up against the wall, cementing your body like what had been done to you on so many occasions. 

You kiss him hard, letting him know how badly you need him. 

He stills you with a firm grip on your shoulders, tilting his head higher out of your reach. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I want it to be you. Not him.” Even on your tippy toes, you could not reach him. 

“Not now,” he scolds. 

“Yes now,” you refute, “I can feel him getting closer every day.” 

Edmund looks down upon you, taking your face gently in your hands. 

“You’re safe. He’s not going to get you. I’ll keep you safe.” 

You knew he would try but you felt Coriolanus in your bones. You knew he would catch you. 

“Please,” you whine. Your hands reach for his belt but he traps your hands. 

“You are not going to give me this under threat. He’s not going to persuade you to do something you’ve had the past few years to do yourself.” 

“I want to,” you protest. You manage to capture his lips again and he mercifully kisses back. 

His barrier was weak. You were sure you could break it down. His hands held your hips and not your wrists, almost giving you permission. 

“Edmund! Edmund!” The sound of his little brother's voice was heard only seconds before the door opened. 

You separate. Edmund looked almost relieved. He eyes you by his side but gives his attention to his brother. You had broken down his wall but he was saved by the bell. 

“Look!” the little boy proudly held up a small dead rabbit. You wished you insisted on the fish. 

“Good job, buddy.” Edmund moves from you to his brother, straightening his jacket as he walks. 

“I’ll help you dress it.”  Edmund doesn’t look at you as he leads his brother back out to the open. 

“I can do it!” The little voice demanded. 

“I know, buddy. But we can’t afford to lose any meat.”

You could cry at the sense of rejection. Edmund wouldn’t give you another opportunity. You had just wanted to show that you loved him but he would have to settle for words. 

—----

You were cold to Edmund the following days, even as you tried to let it go. You wouldn’t look at him as you passed him his meals. Would only speak to him to answer a question. You wouldn’t say more than what was needed. 

He still slept on the floor next to you despite your behavior.

You knew he was trying to protect you by his rejection but it stung. 

Coriolanus had made you feel desirable.  He performed extraordinary measures just for a kiss. And here you were throwing yourself at Edmund, begging him for just that, only to be tossed aside. 

Was Edmund's affections real or just a product of Coriolanus interference? 

You felt stupid for making the first move. You should have just forgotten the whole thing. Edmund was loyal. He just got confused, and you played the fool. Now you had put him in an uncomfortable situation that could risk any relationship with him after this ordeal. 

 You loved him but you should have stayed silent about it. 

Half of you hoped that Coriolanus would find you and take you away. Maybe Edmund would feel guilty about his rejection, and regret it. 

You roll over in bed towards where Edmund is lying on the floor. 

No, that’s not true. 

You’d rather be Edmund’s doormat than Coriolanus' bride.  

—---------

Coriolanus stood backstage at the presidential show. They would perform now for the audience. Answering questions, and charming the crowd. Coriolanus should feel on top of his game. He was known for being charming. It was all he had for the longest time. 

Augustus stood at the other side of the stage, Coriolanus could see him through gaps in the curtains talking to his campaign manager.

Coriolanus couldn’t bear to talk to anyone until he was forced to. 

His thoughts were occupied with you. All of the District was searched, and all he received from it was rumors. A few whispered leads but nothing to truly go on. 

He needed to shake you out so he could focus on his night. 

He hated you now more than ever. It was one thing to betray him, it was another to interfere with his presidential campaign. You should have been here now to support him. 

But instead, you had run off with another man. He should have killed Edmund when he had the chance. Coriolanus had kept him as a pawn but Edmund had turned himself into a knight. 

Lucky was warming up the crowd to introduce the candidates. Coriolanus couldn’t be thinking of this now. You were here. You had gone back to the apartment and he found you there. There was no hole in the fence Peacekeepers failed to find, and Edmund was dead. 

When he went back to the Snow penthouse tonight, he would find you there. Drinking tea with Grandma’am and Tigris. 

Coriolanus hears his name being called and he enters the stage with a smile.

District 12 was a small place, you couldn’t hide forever. Coriolanus would take the first train back tonight and follow every lead himself. 

—----------

You were adding spices to the stew when wildflowers popped up under your face. 

Edmund stood behind you with a shy smile. 

“I am sorry. Please stop being angry with me,” he begs. 

You take the flowers from him to show you are not hostile. 

“I am not angry. I just-” you pause your words unsure on what to say, “You haven’t kissed me or even really touched me since I’ve been here. If you don’t feel the same way that's fine, Just-”

“You’re really stupid. You know that?” he cuts you off. He takes a step towards you. You take it as an invitation to place your hands on his arms. 

“I’ve loved you since I can last remember. And you take me giving you a little space after you’ve just spent a ridiculous amount of time as a hostage to a man who thinks torturing is the same thing as courting, as a sign I ain't interested?”

You kiss him gently and he allows you to. Your heart swelled under his words. He loved you. 

“I meant what I said though. I ain't touching you under threat. When the time’s right, and it’s just the two of us, I’ll give you anything you want. But allow yourself to heal first. I don’t want you to regret anything.” 

You kiss him again to show your gratitude. 

“Thank you. I am sorry, Edmund. I love you.” 

“I love you too, stupid.” 

Coriolanus shakes Lucky Flickerman's hand as the crowd cheers for him. Presidency was close even if you were far.

—------

Despite not having a choice, camp life was agreeable. You worked closely with Edmund, helping him where you could and supporting him where you could not.

Your mother seemed happy too, despite her son being in the Capitol jail. But plans were already forming to get him out. And he was safe, or at least relatively safe. You had no idea what he faced but you knew it would not be death. Not yet. Not without Coriolanus knowing that you knew what had happened to him.

The new Commander of District 12 was sworn in yesterday. Coriolanus was there to hand over the title. Roger had said he seemed uptight and disinterested in the affair. You were sure Coriolanus would be gone soon.

Back to the Capital where he belonged. An air of victory floated around you. He would be president and you would return to District 12 where you belonged, but as Mrs. Flair.

You no longer had nightmares of Coriolanus. Soon this memory would fade into a distant dream.

But it all happened so fast; a loud banging noise woke you, and dozens of pairs of boots stomped across the floor. Edmund woke too, tried to fight them off but there were too many of them. All in protective gear and all with weapons. 

They drag him and your mother out. None of the Peacekeepers touch you even as you hit and yell. 

It was early morning, the sunlight had just been cast over the mountains but the ground was still frozen and wet with condensation. 

Edmund and your mother were thrown on the ground and held down while their hands were cuffed behind their backs. Edmund's mother and brother soon followed. 

You grapple with a Peacekeeper trying to cuff Edmund's hands. He does his best to avoid you but no one pulls you away. Your hands remain free and none of the Peacekeepers make a move to trap you. 

“Please,” you beg amongst the crying and Edmund’s yelling. 

You almost don't recognize him. His hair had grown out, and he wore an expensive red coat instead of his Commander uniform. 

But his eyes remained the same. Blue and fierce they gazed down at you. You had run straight past him without noticing.

You rush to him in panic, falling at his feet and grabbing his black pant leg in a tight hold. 

“Coriolanus, please,” you beg him, “Please I’ll go back. Just release them.”

He ignores you. Nodding to a Peacekeeper who takes a long length of rope from his belt and throws it over the branch of a tree. Another two bring Edmund to his feet, pushing him as he resists.

His mother wails, joining your begging. 

“No! No! Wait please!” They continue to set up the rope. 

“Coriolanus, please!” you had time to beg as the Peacekeeper does the knot. 

He continues to watch Edmund, listening to Edmund's insults rather than your cries. 

“Commander, please. I won’t ever do it again. I’ll be perfect.” 

He still ignores you. Not even glancing at you as you beg him from the dirt. 

“No, no.” The Peacekeeper finishes the knot and fastens it around Edmund's neck.

You go to reach him. You would hold him up if you had to, but Coriolanus caught you by your hair and held you in place. 

Edmund kicks like a fish out of water as the rope is pulled by two Peacekeepers on the other side. 

You pull against Coriolanus' hold, almost yanking your hair out trying to reach him.

Edmund looks at you as he struggles. His hold body shook, and he kicked at the air in hope. His lips half form your name but it never quite parts from his lips.

Coriolanus does let you go but it was too late. Edmund had stopped kicking. Stopped blinking. Stopped breathing. 

You run to him anyway, dropping where he hung. 

You reach out and touch his foot as it sways. 

“Kiss your mother goodbye, and let’s go.” His voice shoots ice down your spine. 

You wanted to scream and yell and cry, but you could do nothing but stare at the dirt in front of you. The sound of crying filled your ears. Dear god, this was all your fault. 

Coriolanus doesn’t ask you again, just grabs a fistful of hair and yanks you to movement. 

You felt too disorientated to fight back. 

He drags you past Edmund's crying mother and brother who couldn’t tear their eyes away from the tree. 

You wanted to reach out to say something, but Coriolanus was in a rush to get back to the Capitol. 

“Mum,” was all you could call out as you pass her.

He drags you along to a parked patrol car and throws you in the cage used for rebels. 

It felt as if the earth had swallowed you whole. There was no fight left in you. All you felt was despair.

Coriolanus had no pity for you. He barely glanced at you as he locked the cage and closed the door. 

You lay in the back in your borrowed nightdress and Edmund’s jacket. You bring it up to your face as you sob. He was dead. All hope of a happy future was gone with him. You would remain Coriolanus’ slave until the day you died.

The journey throws you around as they speed down the hill and back to the city section of the District. 

You sob the entire way. Edmund was dead because of you. Your brother was in jail. Your mother is now all alone in this world. You wanted to die too. It would be kinder than this existence. 

Edmund was dead because of you. His family left without their provider because of you. Your heart ached. Your grief suffocated you. You gasp for air but your sobs block any from reaching your lungs.

What have you done? Why did you think you stood a chance of escape?

You begged the universe to turn back time. You wouldn’t go to the jail. You were trying to do the right thing but your kindness had led to your world being ripped apart.

Why did you have to do it, you thought to yourself. Life could have been so sweet if you weren’t so foolish.

What would your life be like now? Coriolanus wouldn’t be taking you back to the Compound now there was a new Commander. Were you going to the Capitol so soon?

You had a hard time adjusting to life at the Compound. How would you ever survive the capital?

Would you survive the Capital? After Coriolanus had finished with you, would he keep you around after you had betrayed him?

He seemed a different man. Could he still say he was in love with you? Or has that game now ended?

The car stops at the train station. Talking and car doors slamming cut through the business of the station.

The harsh light enters when the door is yanked open by Coriolanus.

You don’t want to get out, hoping to get shot for your resistance. 

Coriolanus drags you out by your ankle, taking a tight hold of your arm as he gets you upright and pushes through onto the train. 

You don’t struggle against him as he leads you through the busy station. What would be the point?

You enter first class, and the doors get locked by maids behind you. 

The only word you can say is “no”, over and over again. 

This couldn’t be happening. Was this just another bad dream? Please, just let this be a bad dream. 

Coriolanus shoves you into a booth, and you slump against the window. He sits next to you trapping you in. You had no energy to move. Only sob against the cold glass. 

You should have just saved yourself the trouble and stayed. Why did you have to anger him?

With the most important passenger on board, the train moves out of the station. 

“Enough,” he tells you. But you couldn’t follow his command even if you tried. 

You watch the District shoot past you. How you wished you could open the window and throw yourself out. 

The rocks pass, and the trees begin to blur into one another. Coriolanus is silent for hours as you cry against the window still. 

You could feel him sometimes looking at you but otherwise, he just sat there. Fixing the jewelry he wore. A gold pinky ring with your ring stacked on top of it. His coat buttons were dipped in gold. He had a new watch, a present from Tigris for returning home. 

It was only when you shifted from the window and slumped over the table did he speak. 

“We were supposed to be in the Capitol weeks ago.” 

The Capitol. His presidential run. You had just lost everything you had ever known and he talks about being behind schedule.

You sit up to face him. He was no longer the Commander you knew but something far more fearsome.

“You think I care about the Capitol?!” You cry, “You took everything from me! You ruined my life,” you scream at him.

He grabs your jaw in his hand and pushes your head back against the glass. The glass is solid and cold as you are pressed against it.

“Your mother has joined your brother in the District 12 jail. I would be very careful what you say to me. Did you think this was a game? Did you think I wouldn’t search for you? Wouldn’t find you?” 

The door slides open and Coriolanus releases you. A servant walks in with breakfast, and another behind her with juice and pastries. 

They set the food and cutlery down in silence. You notice they don’t look up or around, only at what they are doing. 

Coriolanus doesn’t thank them as they leave. He doesn’t eat either. 

“Coriolanus, are they going to be okay?”

“We could have just left, Y/N. No one had to get hurt.”

You turn back to the window as you speak, “I know.”

The food sat at the table for five minutes untouched before Coriolanus called for it to be taken away again. The servants come quickly and the food is taken away in the same manner it was delivered; quickly and silently. 

“It’s three days to the Capitol.” he stands up as he spoke to you, “Two days after that they will announce the new president of Panem. Whatever this is, it’s finished. You do the slightest thing to displease me and your family will follow Edmund.” 

You flinch at his name. Edmund would haunt you for the rest of your days. You hoped he would. 

“Do you understand me?” he asks.

“Yes, Commander.” 

He flinches at the name but doesn’t comment. He clears his throat and walks away into the other carriage. 

You pick up on your crying again. You should have known that your rage only ever backfired on your loved ones. 

Your throat ached and your eyes were puffy, soon you had no more tears left to cry. 

You try a door to see where it leads but it must have a sensor on it because it didn’t open as easily as it did for Coriolanus. He had trapped you in the room. This was your life now. Waiting for Coriolanus to decide what to do with you.

You curl up on the seat and let the train lull you to sleep.

The servants must have come back in during your nap for when you woke the table was filled with food again. A large jug of water sat on the table. You finish all of it and lay back down again.

Coriolanus returns much later, around dinner time. 

“You’re still there,” he observes as the door lets him through. 

“Where else could I go?” 

His hand presses a large button and what you thought was a wall slides to reveal a bedroom. 

“You should wash up for dinner. You have dirt all over you.” 

You did want to take a shower, but you didn’t want to lose Edmund’s jacket. 

Coriolanus steps forward to grab you, but you rise upon seeing him move. Nothing he said was ever a suggestion.

The room was large, with a queen-sized bed decorated in a rich, heavy fabric of deep blue. There were four large pillows and a set of smaller ones with the Panem emblem on them.

A wall was built to hang clothes. You could only see three sets of Coriolanus’ clothing and a dress and a nightgown for you.

On the other side, there was door to a spacious bathroom. You had thought the commanders apartment bathroom was impressive but now you could see why the Capital looked down at the districts.

This bathroom alone was almost as big as the bedroom in the Commander's quarters. Beautiful gold and white titles lay across the floor. A white marble sink with a gold tap. You reach out to touch it.

‘‘Take your clothes off.” Coriolanus demanded. He reaches for the buttons on his own shirt causing the panic to rise in you again.

What would it matter what he did to you? But still, you felt too frozen to move.

He gets halfway through the buttons on his shirt to see you still dressed. His eyes darken as he reaches out to you.

You shrink back against the marble countertop as he yanks Edmund's jacket from your shoulders and throws it to the ground. Your eyes follow it there, as Coriolanus slips your borrowed nightdress off.

You expected more of a reaction from him after all this time. But he seems uninterested in your naked body. He takes your arm and pulls you to the shower head where he fiddles with the tap until the water is to his liking.

He throws you under the hot water while he finishes undressing. The clothes are left on the floor as he joins you in the shower.

You move out of his way to let him have the water but he pulls you back under and reaches for a soft sponge hanging against the wall.

“Look at you,” he mutters. He scrubs the sponge under your nails to get rid of the dirt that had caked under them.

Satisfied he scrubs the sponge up your arms to your neck and down your back. He scrubs too hard. It feels as if he is peeling off your skin.

He is quick along your stomach. Not spending too much time before moving on.

You flinch when he crouches down to scrub at your legs but he stops mid-thigh and returns to full height, dragging the sponge up your leg and resting on your left hip.

“Are you going to do it now?”  It was important that you were clean for him, you supposed.

He drops the sponge, using his hand to wrap around your throat and force you back into the glass.

You don’t look at him as he stares at you. He steps closer, wrapping his arm around your waist and bring you against him.

He rests his forehead against your collar bone, the steam filled the air and fogged your view. He is so still and silent. He had made no move to grope you. You couldn’t tell if he even looked at you. He just held you close and breathed deeply. 

The room became hard to breathe in as the water turned into steam. But you were too scared to voice even that complaint. He moved from your collar bone to rest his chin on your shoulder but then went still again. 

“Coriolanus?” His name was barely a breath on your lips. 

“I am so angry at you,” he said softly. You feel the hand on your throat tighten.

“How could you do that to me?’’ He lifts his head off of you to look you in the eye.

“Augustus has been opening hospitals and amongst the Capitol people, while I have been chasing you around District 12. Do you have any idea how that made me look?’’

You think of your family in jail as you speak. “I am sorry.”  

“You’re sorry? Not good enough.”

He looked so different with his blonde wet hair pressed down on his forehead. The ends curled slightly towards his face.

“You won, Coriolanus. What more do you want from me?”

“I don’t feel as if I have won. I feel as if I have been betrayed.”

Your eyes twitched with irritation. He felt betrayed? You were astonished you that he felt like the victim after causing you so much pain. He was the only bad thing to have happened. The cause of his own misery.

“You killed Edmund,” you sobbed, “You killed him.”

You bring a fist against his shoulder, but it landed without true force.

“I let him live once. Remember?”

The memory of target training at the train station flashes through your mind before you could block it.

“What made you think I would make the same mistake twice?”

He releases you to turn off the tap. You stood frozen as he dries himself.

His anger had lit yours so when he exited the bathroom, you followed, wet and dressed only in a towel.

“Edmund was a good man.”

Coriolanus was readying himself for bed. He spared you a irritated look.

“And now he’s a dead man.”

His sentence stung you.

You wiped the running tears off your eyes. “He was a good man,” you repeat.

He was the only man for you. The love of your life, now dead and gone.

“How did you know? Did Roger rat us out?” you ask.

“You did,” you wait for him to elaborate as he dresses in his pajamas, “Your letter to your brother. People disappear all the time up there.”

You feel your heart drop at his words. A new wave of guilt comes crashing over you.

“He was smart hiding there. He knew the area well. And the smoke signals? Very good. I never did find out who was sending them, but what use are they if you don’t see them.”

Was. Knew. No more.

 “Well enough to fool my Peacekeepers, but I thought, why would she put that in a letter to her brother? Unless it was to warn him. Why else tell him not to come back? You love your brother, of course you would want him back.”

Tears well in your eyes again.

“Is he okay? Have you hurt him?” you accuse.

“It would serve me no purpose to hurt him.”

His movements are hard and sharp as he puts on his satin button-up shirt.

“So you’ll release him? Both of them?” They served no purpose to him in the Capitol.

“When I can trust you again.” He spat.

It could be years before a paranoid Coriolanus decided he trusted you.

“You can trust me. I promise. I’ll make it up to you, just please let them go.”

You walk over to him, reaching out to touch him. It normally worked to disarm him. He is receptive to you, taking a hand and placing it against your face.

“You know why I can trust you? Because I have your family locked in a cage.”

He disappears along with his touch, going over to the cupboard and throwing a deep blue matching nightgown on the bed.

He says nothing else before returning to the dining room and leaving you in the bedroom alone.

You cry as you dress, and don’t stop as you throw the small pillows across the room and sink into the mattress.

Everything you did was wrong. People were hurt because you weren’t smart enough to protect them. Your mother and brother sat in a dirty jail cell, and you had put them there.

They bore the consequences of your stupidity.

Your mind ran and ran with your anxiety. Images of your mother and brother being beaten in a small cell. Edmund’s family slowly starving to death without him. The memory of Edmund as he swayed from the rope.  

You wallow in bed for an hour before Coriolanus rejoins.

You feel him slip into bed beside you. He wraps his arms tightly around you and for the first time in months you fall asleep easily.

You woke the next morning with the feeling of crushing sadness.

Coriolanus was awake next to you. You could hear him practicing a speech as he laid beside you. You don’t move. You weren’t even sure if you could.

A knock on the door stops him, and he bids the person to come in.

You don’t have to look to know it was a servant with a breakfast tray.

Coriolanus reaches for your shoulder to turn you over. You follow his direction and he props a pillow up behind you so you could sit up.

You thank the person as they put a small table over your lap.

You felt nauseous just looking at the food. But asking them to take it away may cause trouble for them so you wait until they leave to reject the food.

You place the table on the floor and roll back onto your side. Your bones felt like cement, and your eyes welled with tears but you didn’t have the energy to cry.

Coriolanus said nothing to you as he eats.

He mutters his speech between sips of coffee. Soon that was finished too, and he rose for the day.

He crosses your eyesight as he approached the wardrobe, and you watch him dress. It seemed odd to see him in anything other than his Commander uniform.

You had never seen Capitol fashion before. It was full of layers and tiny details. The buttons on his shirt had a silver swirl design that caught the light. His shirt was crisp and white with a design of two black flowers on either side, reaching from the end of the shirt to his shoulders.

“I have some work to do. Interviews and thank you letters. So, if you decide to come out be quiet.”

You had no plan to leave your spot, but you nod in understanding.

He doesn’t look or speak to you again as he leaves the room.

You felt as if you had died too. There was no life in you anymore.

You lay for hours in the same spot. Occasionally you could hear Coriolanus as he spoke.

The weight on your shoulder caused it to ache but you couldn’t make yourself move.

The only time you shifted during the hours was when the servants returned to serve you lunch. They took the dirty dishes but also the dirty laundry.

You lunch up to stop the women carrying out Edmund’s brown coat.

“Wait, please!” you grab the worn material off her, “Not this. Leave this.”

The two women look between each other, unsure.

“Mr. Snow said to take everything.”

You swing the jacket over you, positioning yourself in it.

“He didn’t mean this.” Edmund’s faint scent lingered on the fabric. He gave it to you to keep warm at night. You had come to associate it with the feeling of protection.

The young girl bows to you and the other follows suit. As they leave, you know it’s to tell Coriolanus.

You sit and wait for him on the bed.

Coriolanus storms in not moments later.

“The jacket,” he demanded.

“No, Coriolanus. Please let me keep it.”

He launches at you, tearing at the jacket trying to pull it off you. You fight against him, cementing your arms to yourself and trying to wriggle free.

He gets it half off your shoulders. But he grew too frustrated to finish the job. He pulls you up towards him by the collar of the jacket.

“Take the jacket off or I’ll tell them not to bother feeding your mother tonight.”

Edmund was right. Coriolanus was always going to use your family as a weapon.

But the needs of the living overtook those of the dead. You had to make sure they were as safe as you could make them.

He gets off you and you get up to give him the jacket.

As he takes the jacket with one hand, he smacks you with the other.

You make a startled sound but Coriolanus is gone before you finish it.

You return back to your spot and sob into your pillow.

With the jacket now gone, you had truly lost every piece of Edmund.

And with him, you have lost every piece of yourself. Only Coriolanus remained.

 ————

 Three hours after lunch, Coriolanus came to sit on your side of the bed next to you.

“I’ve brought you a cup of tea.”

“Thank you. I don’t want tea.”

Coriolanus’s face is tense as he places the cup on the table next to you.

“They tell me you didn’t have lunch either. Is that your plan? To starve yourself to death before we reach the Capitol?”

“I have no plan,” you admit.

 “Well I do. I have lots of plans, and you’re through with delaying them. So Sit up and drink your tea.” 

He reaches out to your neck to help you sit up. The tea is placed into your hands but it is him you stare at. 

“You look so different.” 

His hair was a soft white color as it grew out. His clothes were fashionable and colorful. Nothing of the District 12 Commander remained. 

He runs his fingers through his hair, combing it back. 

“I am still the same.” 

“I don’t think that’s true.”  You didn’t think it was possible but he was colder, held himself with somehow more confidence. This was the new leader of Panem. 

“What would you know? You never bothered to get to know me.” 

“I think I know you better than anyone else.” 

He showed you parts of himself you were sure he hid from others. The nightmares. The secret yearning to be taken care of. The heartbreak he carried from the loss of his mother. 

“Think, think, think. What have I told you about thinking? You’re no good at it. I’ll do it. Now drink your tea.” 

You take a sip of the scalding tea. It quenches some of your thirst. 

“Will I ever go back to District 12?” you ask. 

You weren’t really sure you would want to. 

“No.” 

“What’s going to happen to me once we reach the Capitol?”

He sighs, ‘‘That depends on you.” 

“Will it be like the compound?”

He laughs humorlessly, “Nothing is like the compound.” 

“I meant being locked indoors.”

“Will I let you roam free around the Capitol? No.” He doesn’t look at you as he speaks. His eyes move around the room, looking at the subtle details. 

“But if you are well-behaved, and do enough to earn it, I will show you all the Capitol has to offer.” 

His eyes move down, back to you. 

“You’ll grow to admire the Capitol. You won’t hate it forever.” 

You go to refute his statement. Nothing in the Capitol could fill the gaping hole left in you from being torn from your home and family. But a servant knocks on the door, taking Coriolanus’s attention. 

He commands them to come in but the small girl only steps upon the threshold and never through it. 

“Sir, you have a call.”

“I’ll be right there.” He answers back. 

She bows and doesn’t rise until the door is shut again.

“Duty calls,” you taunt. 

“Yes.” His eyes are back to being everywhere but on you, “I want that tea finished before I get back.”

As soon as he leaves, you get up and pour the tea down the bathroom sink. 

—----

The next morning was the same. You laid in bed for hours, unmoving. 

Only this morning they didn’t bother to bring you breakfast. You wondered if you would have eaten it, if it was offered, but your guilt still felt so heavy. 

Lunchtime came around and Coriolanus disrupted your wallowing. 

“Get up. We reach the Capitol soon.” He orders. 

He plucks a dress off the rack and lays it across the bed, just under your feet. 

It was a blush pink satin gown that tied in a low ribbon at the back. Matching heels that wrapped around your ankle were placed on the floor below. 

You sit up to touch the fabric of the dress, and Coriolanus sneaks behind you with a hair brush. 

He begins to untangle your hair but he pulls it too harshly. You could feel the tender spot on your head from where he had pulled it just two days before. 

“There will be cameras when we step off the train. Fashion is very important in the Capitol. You’ll have to get used to not wearing the same dress every day.” 

He pulls a knot too harshly and you let out a cry of pain. 

His hand moves yours from the spot and massages it gently. 

“That wouldn’t have happened if you had gotten up at some point.” 

He returns the brush to the carry bag and returns to you, holding out his hands. 

You take them and he pulls you up out of the bed.

His hands move to your nightdress and he pulls it off to place the pink satin gown over your head. He spins you around so he can tie it in the back. 

“Put on your shoes and meet me outside.” 

He places a kiss on the back of your shoulder before leaving you. 

The shoes are hard to walk in. While not overly tall, the heel itself was narrow. Trying to walk felt like a balancing act. You could only manage small steps. 

Coriolanus sat at the booth looking out of the window. 

The landscape had changed from long stretches of dry dirt to tall buildings. 

You sit down opposite him and gaze out the window at it all. 

It seemed unreal. 

Every building shined. The Panem flag was hung wherever possible. The sky seemed extra blue. 

You had never felt homesick but now you realize why Coriolanus was so eager to get back home. 

The scenery disappears as you enter a tunnel and stop at your destination. 

Your hand is tugged as Coriolanus heads to the exit with the servants and the bags just ahead of you.

You could hear a commotion as you got closer. Voices overlapped and snapping sounds of flashing cameras joined the noise. 

The lights were blinding as you exited the carriage. 

Coriolanus seemed in his element. He waved and smiled as he lead you through the sea of cameramen and reporters. 

They all shouted at him as they held microphones up to his face. But he didn’t stop to make a comment. 

More people surrounded the outside. Peacekeepers made a path to a sparkling black car with their bodies blocking the crowd. 

He was hailed a king here, and a tyrant back in District 12. All for the same thing. 

The scene was overwhelming. Not only were you in a foreign place without your family, but you felt yourself suffocating amongst the crowd. If one were to break through, the rest would follow ending in a catastrophe. 

You were a stranger, an enemy. You did not belong here. 

You wanted to turn back to the train but Coriolanus’s hold prohibited such action. 

Someone opens the car door for him and he lets you enter first. 

The silence that greets you helps to settle your nerves. With a final wave, Coriolanus joins you in the car, and it takes off from the crowd. 

He sighs and readjusts his jacket so it falls in front of him. 

Your hands shake so you keep them clamped together on your lap.

Coriolanus doesn’t speak to you as you peer out the window. 

You felt as if you had stepped onto another planet. 

The streets were colorful, both in design and people. Cars gilded next to you and in front of you. There were statues and water fountains on every corner. 

All gained from the hard labor of the Districts. 

Still, you couldn’t take your eyes off the passing scenery. You are hypnotized for the 20 minutes that the car drives. But it soon stops in front of a large brick building. 

“Do you live here?” Was this your new home? You wondered. 

“No one lives here,” he answers shortly. 

He exits the car, holding the door open for you. Following him out, you hear the voice of a man greet Coriolnaus. 

“Mr. Snow. Welcome.” 

The man was a little overweight in a suit that was finely tailored to him. He had bleached his eyebrows and mustache, and wore many pieces of jewelry.  

“Thank you for meeting with us.” Coriolanus shook the man’s hand but returns it to yours as soon as it ended. 

“Of course, Mr. Snow. We were happy to accommodate you. Please, follow me.” 

The man leads you both into the building and through the halls but only talks to Coriolanus about the history of the building. 

It was a beautiful building that housed artwork and portraits along the walls. 

You could tell Coriolanus didn’t care but remained civil. His fingers squeeze yours as he is ushered into a room. 

Like everything in the Capitol, it is unnecessarily large and grand. Gold candle holders, rows and rows of pews made of expensive wood, oil painted artwork of important men loomed down at you. 

“Just over this way, if you would please.” 

The man leads you to a table on a small front stage. There was only one chair in front of it which Coriolanus pulls out for you. 

The man passes Coriolanus a pen and tells him where to sign. 

He does so quickly and elegantly. 

“And now for you, Madam.” 

Coriolanus passes you the pen but only small writing covered the page and you were hesitant to sign it. 

“What is this?” You look up to the man, who rocked slightly side to side.

“It’s a marriage certificate.” Coriolanus answered for him.

“Marriage?”

Did marriage in the Capitol have the same meaning as marriage in the Districts? What did marriage in the Capitol truly entail and why was Coriolanus so eager to have you sign it?

“Yes. Marriage. Now sign the paper.” His hand curls around yours so you don’t drop the pen.

“Coriolanus-” Your words are cut short when his hand latches itself under your chin and yanks it up, keeping your hand directed at the paper. He forces your hand closer to the line.

“Sign the paper,” he commands. With his hand enclosed around yours, you sign your simple signature next to his cursive.

He releases you once you do.

“If you wanted a wedding then you shouldn’t have run off.” He spat at you. 

Your hands shake uncontrollably and your eyes water but no sympathy is given by either man. 

“You’ve robbed the Capitol of the wedding of the year, truly!” 

“I think the Capitol will survive.” You feel Coriolanus tug you up, and the man follows his lead out the door. 

“I am sure you are eager to get home and rest before election day.” the man spoke. His voice echoed through the large halls. 

“May I just say what an honor it was to marry you two today! You two kids will set a trend. I’ll have young lovers knocking my door down to elope.” 

You sob at his words. 

“Forgive her. The journey was long.” 

“Of course.” 

With only three more steps until the door, the conversation died. 

Coriolanus is quick in pace, and propelled you to move faster than you could in your heels. 

You could hardly see through the tears in your eyes, so you reach blindly until you feel the car underneath your fingers. 

“Thank you, sir.” He shakes hands with the man once again. 

“Anything for our future president.”

Coriolanus opens the door and guides you inside as he says goodbye to the man. 

He allows you to cry until the car pulls up outside of the apartment, at which he tells you to stop. 

He pulls a handkerchief out of breast pocket and wipes the tears from your face as they fall. 

From the outside you could hear the driver collecting the bags from the boot. 

“You need to stop crying. We are home now.” 

You take the handkerchief off him and dap your own tears. He longingly stares out the window. 

He almost bounces in his seat. Eager to get up the stairs and back home. 

Marriage is not the worst thing to have happened to you, nor the worst thing he could do.

It didn’t really mean anything, you told yourself. The Capitol probably wouldn’t even recognize a marriage between a Capitol citizen and District. 

You push his patience as far as it would go before you are able to collect yourself. 

“Ready?” he asks. 

You give a curt nod and he swings the door open. 

The driver passes the bags to a servant dressed in the same white dress as the ones on the train. They take them back into tall metal building. 

It reached the sky in height, and a whole community of District 12 in width. 

Coriolanus knew his way well. With all the wall ways, and feature spaces of the hotel, you were sure you would get lost escaping the building, yet alone the Capitol. 

An elevator you knew as you stood in front of it. They had them in large government buildings that you would sometimes ride as you delivered material from work. 

The elevator door opens and he hits the top floor. 

 As it goes up, you feel your stomach drop. Once you reached the top floor, would you ever go down again? Was your life now confined within this building?

It reaches the penthouse too fast. Your feet refuse to move as the door opens. 

Coriolanus tries a gentle tug but as the doors try to close again, he motions turn into a pull. 

“We’re almost there.” He digs in his pocket for a key. 

His key ring that used to carry so many keys now only held three. 

The sound of an opening door is met with a loud pop of streamers. 

You flinch as the colorful tissues attack you.  

A high pitch scream precedes a weight being thrown at Coriolanus but he catches it easily and with great joy. 

You take the chance to jump back out of the way. 

“Hey,” he laughs.You watch the cousins embrace. You had once promised yourself that letters would be as close as you got to Tigris and now she stood in front of you. 

“Coryo! You’re finally home,” she captures his face in a loving embrace and he smiles back. 

A crooning sound overtakes the moment and an old women takes the spot of Tigris. 

“My boy. Future president of Panem.” 

He leans down and kisses her on the cheek. She turns her head for him to do so, coming eye to eye with you. 

She turns to you as Coriolanus releases her. 

“Don’t just stand there, child. Come forward, let me take a look at you.”

 Grandma’am eyes you, causing you to curl further into yourself. 

Coriolanus clears his throat and places his hand on your lower back to move you forward. 

“May I introduce Mrs. Snow.”

“Mrs. Snow! Oh Coryo!” Tigris gasps, “How could you?” 

“We had too. The media would never have left us alone if they knew. But-” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small jewelry box, “We saved the most important part for you: the rings.”

He takes a ring out of the box. Your hand shakes but he holds it steady as he slides the ring on. 

Fifty small rectangular diamonds cover a gold band. It was shiny and heavy on your finger. 

Tigris gasps upon seeing it but you have no reaction. 

He then passes you a gold band and holds his hand out to you. 

You push the ring on his finger quickly. 

It was enough for Tigris who claps and jumps. 

She wraps her arms around your neck while her grandmother lifts your hand up to inspect the ring. 

As they give you space, Coriolanus takes it, bringing you back into his arms. 

“I want to hear everything!” Tigris says.

She walks to the living room table and takes a bottle of champagne out of a bucket of ice.

It could have been the lack of food and water over the past three days. It could have been the pure overwhelming feeling of it all. But as the cork of the champagne is opened, your knees give way and you collapse unconscious. 

Coriolanus manages to catch you and you feel his hard arm under your head. 

You hear him call out to you before the darkness fades your vision. 

—----------

You wake at midnight in a fright. 

You knew you were in a bed but everything was pitch black. 

Was everything a dream? Was Edmund alive and just below you?

The answer was no. Coriolanus woke with your fast movements and worked quickly to pull you into his arms. 

“Hey, you’re alright. You’re alright.” 

You struggle against him in a panic. 

“You’re alright. You’re safe,” he consoles. 

“No, no, I’m not.” You feel his face under your fingertips and push against him. 

He retaliates by capturing both your wrists in his hand, pulling them down. 

“Stop it. Calm down now. You’re alright.” 

His weight tugs on your wrists as he leans back to flick on the bedside lamp. It cast a yellow light in which you could see him clearly. 

He had gone to sleep in only his underwear again. His old Commander ways were still clawing on. 

You register that you had been re-dressed into cotton pants and a large top.

“Please, Coriolanus. Let me go. I haven’t done anything,” you cry. 

He pulled you closer by your wrists so your body was leaning against his. 

"Please, I am sorry,” your tears soak his bare chest but he doesn’t move, “I am so sorry.”

He moves his arms around you so you were cradled but it did nothing to help soothe you. 

“No, no, please,” you struggle but his hold was tight. “I never did anything wrong.” 

You tried so hard to be good. Now you were being punished for it. 

“I know. I know that,” he insisted, bringing you closer. 

“It’s okay. Just go back to sleep.” 

You can’t. The image of Edmund swinging in the wind haunted you. 

“Oh Edmund,” you cried. It wasn’t his fault. He was only trying to protect you. 

Coriolanus made no comment given your state. 

“It’s alright. Everything is alright,” he repeats. He hums softly, a song that his mother used to sing when he was a child. He was surprised he still remembered it, or most of it at least. 

He used to hum it during his school years when academic pressure hindered his sleep. 

It rose his anxiety levels just from the association with those years, but it worked to settle you so he continued. 

Your mother used to hum you to sleep as well. When you had bad dreams, she would sit on your bed and run her fingers through your hair as she hummed. 

It was easier to pretend that you were only a child back in your bed with your mother next to you, protecting you from all the horrors of the world. 

—--------------

 The next morning you woke as Coriolanus finished dressing for the day. 

Your movement gains his attention, he finishes putting on his coat and comes to sit next to you on the bed. 

“Hey, how’d you sleep?”. 

He runs a warm hand over your face. You sit up to brush him off. 

“I’ve told Tigris and grandma’am to leave you alone today so you can rest.”

Your stomach drops at the thought of being isolated again. You couldn’t be left alone with your thoughts today. 

Already it’s racing with guilt. 

You latch onto his arm. 

“No. Coriolanus please, don’t lock me in here.” 

He looks to weigh up his options before deciding.  

“I won’t. But you need to show me that you can behave. I won’t have you upsetting Tigris or Grandma’am.

“I won’t,” you promise. 

“They don’t need to know the full extent of us. Only that we are happy to be here together.”

“Ok, Coriolanus.” 

You shove the thick blanket off and swing your body off the bed. 

You follow Coriolanus to the kitchen table where Tigre’s and grandma’am sat eating breakfast. 

Tigre’s rises as you enter into the room. She keeps her distance so not to overwhelm you. 

“Y/N, how are you feeling?” She asks. 

“Much better now. Thank you. I am sorry if I offended you yesterday. I wasn't feeling well.” 

“No! Of course not.” Tigris exclaims, “God, you’ve been through so much. I couldn’t even imagine how you are feeling right now.”

Your eyes flick to her. Coriolanus had made it seem like her and Grandma’am knew nothing of the truth, but could she know at least part of it?

“You must have been so frightened when those rebels took you to the mountains,” Grandma’am commented between a scone. 

Your eyes shoot at Coriolanus, who was already looking at you, silently telling you to be quiet.  

A twisted truth is as good as the truth itself in his books. 

“Yes, I was. Everyday. But I knew Coriolanus was coming.”

“Our Coriolanus isn’t scared of coward rebels!” Grandma’am exclaims. 

Coriolanus was quick to change the subject at the first sound of silence, “Tigris, she hasn’t had breakfast yet.

The breakfast table is near silent as everyone ate. 

It was a relief when Coriolanus kissed you goodbye. The company of Tigres was much easier to keep. 

—-----‘

Coriolanus was busy now that he was home. Interviews and meetings took most of his time now that the elections were coming up. 

You saw little of Grandma’am, but Tigris almost always was in the apartment. 

She tried to be kind to you. She often went out of her way to check on you. But you avoided her. Staying in the room you were placed in. If you said the wrong thing to her, it was sure to make its way back to Coriolanus, and your family was to pay for it. 

Your days before Coriolanus returned home were filled by looking out the window, or preparing an item of clothing for Coriolanus. He always wanted to have at least one thing on that you had some part in preparing. 

He tore off his buttons so you could sew them back on, you shined brand new shoes that didn’t need it, ironed shirts that had already been ironed for him. 

You didn’t argue when he asked you to do it. 

If you performed an action in the way he wanted, he would give you updates on your family. 

From what you gathered, they were fed and allowed an hour outside together. 

 The day of the election came fast. 

It felt as if it happened overnight, but it had been three days since your arrival in the Capitol. 

The election was called at eight o'clock which meant the entire day was filled with buzz.  People came in and out all day. Coriolanus spent the entire day on the phone, or in between breaks talking to the people in the room.

You sat in his chair as he worked standing. You watched the people as they came in and out. They looked different from people back home. 

They all had something unusual about them. Funny color hair, a piercing that stuck out of their face. One thing they all had in common was their high quality clothing. Nothing like the sacks District clothes are made out of. 

Grandma’am and Tigris had gone out to prepare themselves for the election. It was nearly night but they had been gone since the morning.

Coriolanus was in the middle of getting a haircut when two females came up to you and requested that you followed them. 

Coriolanus told you to do so from where he sat. You didn’t ask why as you followed them to the bedroom. 

With the door shut, they tell you to shower and come back so they can dress you for the election. 

The news causes you to tense. You were not ready to face the Capitol. 

But with no choice, you take a shower and return for them to do their work. 

They only talk to each other as they work. 

They dress you in a white strapless gown that split up the side to show more white sparkly tulle, and white heels that were shorter and easier to walk in than the pink heels that you had at the train station. 

They gossip about elite members of the Capital. Who was cheating on who. Who wore what. 

One burns you with a hot iron as she curls your hair because she leans forward to laugh. No apology is given as she continues to talk. She pins small white roses throughout your hair. The pins scrape your head as they enter your hair but you make no complaint. 

You were grateful when they finished dressing you. As soon as they begin to pack up, you exit the room without a goodbye.

You run into Coriolanus, still with his team in the living room. He stood in front of a tall mirror as you had taken the main bedroom. 

He matched you in white. Admittedly, he looked gorgeous in a double-breasted suit with his white shirt peeking out from it. The first few first buttons were undone and a silver chain with your ring hung around his neck. 

He was fixing a white rose to his chest pocket when his eyes caught you in the mirror behind him. 

“We are finished here,” he tells the room, who pack up immediately. 

He looked nervous, and you supposed he should be. All his life had been leading up to this moment. 

He talks low to you so the others don’t hear as they leave, almost whispering in your ear. 

“Just a few more hours and you’ll be looking at the President of Panam.” 

Your hands shook, and you flexed them to try and shake the nerves out. 

Coriolanus, always hyper-aware, noticed, capturing your hands and bringing them up to his face to kiss. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one shaking?” he jokes. 

“I don’t want to go. You don’t need me there.” 

“I do need you there.” He releases you, annoyed at your resistance. 

You sit down on the couch as the people make their way to the door. 

“Do I need to remind you that your performance tonight is crucial to your family's survival?” 

“No,” you say softly, “That’s never left my mind.” 

He crouches down in front of you, resting his hands on your waist. 

 “Good. Now people know you are District, but you’re not to mention it. If anyone mentions it to you, you tell me straight away.” He flicks your chin up so you are looking at him and not at your lap. “Hey, straight away.”

You nod your head in understanding. You had no plan to talk freely with any of the Capitol brood anyway.

“As first lady of Panem, you’ll be required to attend performances like these from time to time. I need to know I can trust you not to embarrass me when you do.”

You nod your head once again, “You can.” 

You remember Ravenstill’s wife. All she did was smile and sit pretty. You could do the same, regardless of the pain you felt. 

He raises himself slightly to press his lips against yours before rising entirely. 

“The car is waiting down stairs.” You rise with him and he takes your hand in his through the walk. 

The car ride is silent. Coriolanus began to practice his speech again as you stared out the window. 

The Capitol seems quieter than usual. No car buzzed around as you drove. One or two passed but they seemed to be in their own rush. Not a person roamed the street.

All of the Capitol held their breath as they waited for their new President. 

The car stops in front of a huge fountain surrounded by a large field. It was out of place amongst the sky scrapers. It was filled with people, all wearing peculiar colorful clothing. Nearly all of them wore a white rose upon their chest.

They surrounded a large stage lit up with bright lights.

Rows of chairs were lined across the back of the stage.  People hovered around them, all wearing white like you. They greet Coriolanus as he walks through. Some of them even greet you, but you hate them all the same.

You see his grandmother and cousin sitting directly behind the podium. He seems to be trying to make a beeline to them, but people keep interrupting them.

He keeps his temper, politely dismissing them as he wades through the crowd. 

His grandmother jumps up to kiss him. He uses his spare hand to bring her in close.

“President Snow, we salute you,” she says sincerely.

“I’ve not won anything yet, Grandma’am,” but his smirk told that he knew he was about to.

Grandma’am wore a hat of white roses but a simple white dress suit and pearls.

Tigris rose as well to hug her cousin now her grandmother was out of the way. Her strapless white dress hugged her curves right down to her ankles where the dress dissolved into white tulle. You could see the outline of white roses on her dress too. Her makeup was centered around the pale pink eyeshadow that was blown out towards her temple.

Finishing with Coriolanus, Tigris turns and hugs you, but you couldn’t manage it back.

Coriolanus leans down to whisper in your ear, “All you have to do is sit down next to Tigris and smile. Can you do that?”

Your families life depended on it, so you smile back at him to show that you could.

The Panem national anthem began to play bringing a hush over the audience as they all go back to stand in front of their seat and sing.

Coriolanus stood next to you, still holding your hand as he sung. The camera flashed in your face and you decide it was better to sing along.

The song finishes and the large screen behind you switches to a man with a microphone on one side and another man in a field similar to Coriolanus. You assumed the latter was his political opponent.

It was the cue for the people on stage to take a seat. You take yours next to Tigris and Coriolanus walks up to the podium.

Smaller screens are prompted up along the front of the stage so that no one on the stage was facing backwards.

You watch as the man with the microphone gives his introduction, introducing himself as Lucky Flickerman before the screen flashes to Coriolanus, and then cuts to Augustus.

You eye the open field. The guards were all focused to the front. There were a few people off the side but they looked mostly like stylists and operation managers. They would hardly put up a fight for you.

You could make it. At least on to the street. But how would you make it back home? How would you free your family? How could you live with yourself in District 12 without Edmund?

Tigress reaches out and entangles your hand with her in comfort. It brings you back to the election.

Lucky performs a few magic tricks as the final votes are counted.

“Now for the moment we have all been waiting for.'' An assistant runs up and places an envelope into Lucky’s hand.

“The results are in people! Who has Panem chosen to be our new leader? The savvy businessman or the fearless Commander? Let’s find out!”

Not a word was spoken as the man opened the envelope. It must have been the result he wanted, for he broke out into a grin and began to shake his head.

“Just as I predicted. Ladies and gentleman, the new President of Panem: Coriolanus Snow!”

The crowd erupts in cheering around you. Loud popping sounds precedes colorful confetti dropping from mounted cannons. Tigris lets go of your hand to clutch Coriolanus.

She sprang up from her seat and captured his head between her arms. His grandmother is next up to crowd him. He brushed off people quickly, he had a speech to make.

You wonder if you should get up but there were already too many people around him. You would only be in the way.

He makes his way to you, bending down to place a kiss on your cheek before turning back to shake hands with those around him.

The win came as no surprise to him but he wore a large smile, and seemed almost giddy at the news.

He turns back to the podium and people quieten as he gives his speech. You heard him mutter it a million times. You could almost recite it for him.

“Today is a new day for Panem,” it began.

You eye your freedom just down the stairs but remain seated and smiling.

You’re not sure how long Coriolanus spoke for, but the applause and cheering told you he had stopped.

Before you knew it he was standing in front of you with an outstretched hand. You take it and he stops to kiss his family, giving them instructions as to where they should now go before he leads you down the steps and into the crowd.

You shrink back as they gather around him. His grasp hurt. Your bones in your hand felt as if they were about to pop out of place. But it was too easy to get lost in the crowd, so he wouldn’t loosen it.

Too many voices overlapped to hear any single one. A few pats on your shoulder was all the attention you received while Coriolanus was drowning in a sea of people.

You couldn’t make out his words over the people and the music. You let yourself be overtaken with the senses.

You smiled and nodded at people as you passed them. It was Coriolanus’ big night, you couldn’t even fathom the punishment if you were to make a mistake tonight.

You stay close to him, just over his shoulder.

He looks back to check on you one or two times but never opens his mouth.

Confetti had been hidden in his curls. You focused on counting the pieces.

The whirl-pool of people seemed to never end. As soon as one person faded another took their place.

It must have been half an hour before Coriolanus made the small distance to the apartment block.

It was 30 stories with a roof top bar that was pumping with lights and music.

The rest of the people would mingle down below with food and drinks. Huddling around the colorful glass standing tables.

You reach the entrance, guarded by two peacekeepers, and Coriolanus leads you in front of him as he presses the button for the elevator.

It was quick to come and Coriolanus pushed your hips to make you move inside.

He lets go of you as you enter and gives a wave to his fans as the door closes.

The elevator is dead quiet. Only the faint sound of pumping music could be heard.

You think he is too wrapped up in his victory to pay you any mind now you were out of sight of the public.

You were relieved almost to be out from under his attention. But he moves quick to push you up against the wall and smash his lips onto yours.

His hands steady your face as he assaults your lips.

He leaves you out of breath and grins at you widely for it.

The door dings open, and he pulls back from you. Only taking a loose grip of your hand.

Another cheer for the President was heard over the music as he steps out.

You look around the room at all the people in white. Supporters of a maniac.

Tigris and Grandma’am were offered a lounge chair as they ate and drank.

“Look,” he spoke to you, taking a green drink off a tray offered to him, “The apple pie drink you wanted. I requested it especially for you.”

He passed you the drink as a man approached him.

You managed to get a “thank you” out before the stranger began to talk.

Coriolanus paid you no more mind the rest of the night. He spoke and joked freely with the party goers while stringing you along behind him.

A few spoke to you about mundane things but Coriolanus was quick to end any longer talk then a few seconds.

The drink did taste like apple pie. A low rate apple pie. You could bake one much better. But for a drink it was fine. You ended up drinking three before Coriolanus snatched the fourth and placed it on a nearby table.

Tigres caught your eye a couple of times. You knew she was making sure you were alright. She was kind, and so ‘un-Capitol’.

Grandma’am was more true to her up-bringing. She insisted on teaching you the ways of the Capitol, and training you out of your ‘District ways’.

“It'll be our secret,” she told you over breakfast this morning, “I’ll defend you against the District rumors.”

In a way you supposed it was sweet of her. Although her intentions could very well be for Coriolanus' benefit rather than yours.

The later it got, the quieter it got.

People began disappearing. Others passed out on sofas and lounges.

Coriolanus' energy never seemed to drain, but Tigris’ and Grandma’am’s did.

Tigris had come over and interrupted Coriolanus' conversation. She offered to take you home with her and Grandma’am but Coriolanus was resistant.

“She’s fine, Tigris. I’ll bring her home with me.”

If you had been on equal standing with Coriolanus, you would have protested and just left but you were mud under his shoe, so you smiled at Tigris and told her you would see her in the morning.

Tigris kissed both of you goodbye. You hold on to her for too long. You could tell from the way Coriolanus squeezed your hand.

The party continued long after she had gone.

Your legs hurt from standing in the heels and your dress was too tight to have eaten all you did over the course of the night.

Coriolanus could sense that you were nearing the end of what you could take, so he began his final lap of victory around the room.

You were beyond grateful when he ushered you into the car.

You sighed as you sunk down into the plush leather seats, taking off your heels instantly.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said as the car entered the main road which had returned to its normal state of business even late at night, “You were very well behaved.”

“Congratulations on your win,” you return.

“Snow always lands on top,” he talks softly as he gazes out to the city.

The car rolls through the city smoothly. Coriolanus watches it pass from the window.

You feel half-asleep resting your head back on the seat.

You feel him move you down to a lying position and your eyes shoot wide open. His fingers brush your skin as he slides the skirt of your dress up.

“What are you doing?” You catch his hands and he lowers his head.

He hushes you as he slides your panties off your hips, “All the drivers talk.”

Trapped in a car in a city that kills your people for entertainment, you lay back and don’t make a sound.

You clutch the back of the seat in a tight hold as Coriolanus begins.

Edmund was barely cold in the ground and here you were, being eaten out by the man who killed him.

You try not to focus on it as Coriolanus' lips and tongue work. It pulls a moan from you and Coriolanus hits your thigh.

You press your tongue between your teeth to avoid making noise. A hand makes its way into Coriolanus’ curls and tugging on them gives you a sense of satisfaction.

It encourages him however and his movements become more targeted and passionate.

The car pulls to the curb in front of his house by the time you had made a mess in the backseat.

You lay back with your legs spread as you come down from your high.

A chill shoots through you as the door is opened by the driver but Coriolanus pulls it closed before he could see the scene.

You get up despite not being ready too. Coriolanus grabs your shoes and pockets your panties, taking your hand when its free.

You both emerge from the car as if nothing had happened.

It was late and cold. You thank the driver as you pass him.

The building was huge. Nearly all the floor was covered in titles and your feet made a sound against them.

You try to slow your walk to quite the sound, but Coriolanus was eager to get up to the apartment.

He storms across the lobby, and courtyard before reaching the steps that lead to the elevator.

He presses the button too many times. It doesn’t make it come any faster.

The house is dark and silent as you enter. The women went to bed hours ago, and you were hopping to follow suit.

Coriolanus leads you to his bedroom which is large and not yet decorated.

You pull free from him as you enter. Immediately you tear all the pins and roses from your hair.

You hear Coriolanus drop your shoes.

He clears his throat to gain your attention.

“Your brother and mother have been freed from the compound.”

Your fingers freeze in your hair. It felt as if he had lifted a great weight off your chest. You turn to him in gratitude.

“Thank you, Coriolanus.”

He smiles down at you before stooping down to your height and placing a firm kiss to your lips.

You push back against his shoulders after the kiss continues past a normal amount of time.

He pushes back, bracing you against the bed with him on top of you.

His lips turn to your neck as he unzips the back of your dress.

“Coriolanus, please don’t,” you beg.

He slides the dress’s straps off your shoulder as he responds, “Please, just give this to me. Don’t make me take it.’’

The dress is taken off you, and Coriolanus strips it off with kisses.

Only when a kiss is placed on your hip do you begin to struggle.

This man had tormented you for months. Starved you. Robbed you. Killed the man you loved. You would give him nothing freely.

You kick and push him away, but he is stronger.

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay.” He pulls you upward by your wrists to the pillows.

“No! Get off of me!”

“Y/N, please. Please,” he pleads.

You continue to fight but he persists.

 “Please, don’t make me do this.”

“No. No. Edmund! Mum!”

“Shut up,” it was less of a command and more of a plea, “Please, shut up.” 

You do. What would your resistance gain you? A few more seconds until the inevitable. 

His grip loosens as you are still beneath him. 

With only a weak hold of your wrists, he pulls off his clothes. You can hear the movement but can’t force your eyes to open. 

Tears leak down your cheeks but you refrain from making a sound. 

“It’s alright. I’ll take care of you.” 

He lines himself up and pushes in with ease. The pain was subsided due to your wetness from the car ride but the first slow thrusts felt slightly painful and uncomfortable. 

You whine slightly as you adjust to the intrusion. You fight to release your wrists from his hold, you wanted to push back on his shoulders, feeling as if he was too deep. 

“It’ll only hurt for a little bit,” he promised, continuing his slow movements. 

He kisses you as you let out another whine. 

Soon the pain did stop, and an enjoyable sensation began to form. 

Coriolanus tried his best to remain slow, but as he got lost in his own lust, he forgot about your pain. 

It felt as if he was bruising you. But his mouth never left yours so you couldn’t voice a complaint.

Your hips jerk away from him, trying to ease the pressure but his spare hand stills your hip, making you take the full brunt of what he wanted to give you. 

He pulls his head back from yours and groans.

“Ah,” he grunts. 

“Coriolanus-” you had wanted to ask him to slow down but you feel yourself tightening around him as you come. 

His hand moves from your wrists and intertwines with your hand. He presses his weight down as he picks up his pace to chase his own high. 

“Wait, wait!” you were through. Every second after was too much. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he grunts. 

You groan from the pressure as he continues. 

“Almost there, darling.” 

His last few thrusts are hard but the pressure turns into a warm pool between your legs. 

Coriolanus is still as he rests his forehead upon your shoulder. You don’t move either, unsure of what to do. 

A few moments later and he raises his head, repositioning himself so his arms cage around your head. 

 He drags a finger down the bridge of your nose and it runs off your cheek like a tear. 

“Welcome to the Capitol, Mrs. Snow.

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[dc418writes]

|Hiding in Plain Sight|

✨Pairing: CEO!Curtis Everettxblack!reader

🪄Summary: Curtis has had enough

🚨: 18+ NO MINORS!, soft!dark Curtis maybe???, cheating (do not condone in real life, however for this plot…👀), mention of past adult happy fun times (everyone please be safe!), fingering (female receiving), verbal abuse, language

🎤: this is my submission for Siri’s Birthday Bonenanza! Happy belated birthday @stargazingfangirl18 !! I hope you had an amazing bday with lots of cake, presents, love, and any and everything else you desire💐🎂!!

Prompts:

Scenario: Babe is doing this for your own good

Dialogue: “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?”

Kink Prompt: possessive!babe, squirting

Trope Prompt: scary,dangerous babe who is only soft with you (Curtis isn’t really dangerous tho, but you’ll see)

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP OF PICTURES USED as they were found via Pinterest*

At the sudden ‘click’ of the door closing, you’re startled; quickly turning towards the sound to find one of the reasons you felt the need for space from the festivities downstairs. Dressed in all black - from the button up spanning his firm chest to his impeccable slacks and polished designer shoes - it’s as if he walked straight out of GQ how dashing and handsome he looked.

Then again, when did he not?

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” His deep voice never fails to send tingles shooting down your spine. Have you embarrassingly willing to move at his command if he gave it.

“It’s okay. I-I should probably get back anyway.”

“To get ignored by your husband some more?,” he asks just as you pass him. His words make you pause with your shoulders just mere inches apart.

“Curtis..”

“He’s so busy smiling in everybody’s face and trying to be buddy-buddy with my associates, he hasn’t even noticed his own wife is gone. Then again…maybe he doesn’t want to.”

You didn’t want to come tonight. Tired from work and not in the mood to fake laugh at middle aged men who thought they were funny, you practically begged your husband to leave you home.

“You’re so fucking selfish you know that? This is my chance to make necessary connections to very important people.”

“Then you go Wes! Me being there won’t change that.”

He only kissed his teeth, tossing one of your purses at you and not caring of the scattered contents he left. “Be ready by 6 or I’ll get you ready myself.”

It was foolish to hope things would be different this time. You should know Wes would never arrive at anything having to do with business without his self proclaimed ‘good luck charm’. His trophy wife he used to sell this illusion that he was the man that had it all, so rejecting him would only hurt you.

And that’s not to say your husband didn’t deserve success - he was brilliant in his own right. It’s why Curtis himself decided to invest in Wes’ company and was his highest investor to date. But he saw past the illusion, and quickly saw the man he really was.

Which is how your complicated pairing began.

As he steps closer you hate how your body responds: eagerly ready to cave at the closest feeling of home. The bourbon - his favorite - practically being tasted in your own mouth as the smell wafts from his pink lips so close to yours. It mixes well with the spice from his cologne only making your head begin to swim and want to suffocate yourself in his neck.

His thick finger reaches out to trace the delicate gold chain on the necklace perfectly sat just below your collarbones. The small diamonds not equally spaced apart, but set in such a way it reminded you of twinkling stars in the night sky. It’s simple, but fitting for you. You were never the type for lavish jewelry that could blind someone a mile away, and from your short time together Curtis knew that.

“Knew it’d look beautiful on you,” he whispers letting the pad of his finger carry further until he was skimming your collarbone and causing you to shudder.

“I’m still married,” you practically have to force from your soul trying to stop your body from pressing against his. Stop your brain from turning to mush so he could have his way with you. Again.

His jaw ticks. “Why, I don’t know.”

“Curtis please, okay? Besides, you’re supposed to be celebrating.” He gently nods letting the rest of the brown liquor drain down his throat - your eyes shamefully following the bob of his Adams apple and missing how it felt under your lips.

“Fine,” he breathes closing the remaining space so you have no choice but to clutch his shoulders to stop from losing your footing in your heels. Not that he’d let you fall from his muscular arm around your waist. His mouth lowering impossibly closer that depending on what either of you said, your lips would brush. “Celebrate with me.”

“I-I don’t think your date would like that.” Were you angry when you saw the onyx haired beauty on his arm? Far from it. Did you guiltily wish her butt length, model-esque hair would catch fire when she passed one of the candles on the various tables so she’d have to leave? Maybe.

“Here I was thinking I was the jealous one.” And there was that smirk that briefly showed the hidden mischief in this man carved by God himself. “Yes, she’s my plus one, but would be more interested in you than me. Not that I blame her.”

“I still can’t,” you whisper letting your nose tap against his. Slowly but surely you feel yourself becoming drunk off his presence and that will to stand strong diminishing.

“Can’t or shouldn’t?”

At that you’re stuck. Now solely focused on his lips and so badly wanting - needing - to taste them again. Curtis grins realizing this himself. “My eyes are up here sweetheart.”

“Wha?” You should feel embarrassed, but as the air from his nostrils fan your face it only seems to make you needier. And when he brings his hand up to caress your cheek, there’s nothing that can stop you from leaning into his touch. Even between your legs you feel that pulse begin to grow in urgency.

“Look me in the eyes,” Curtis begins slowly, “and tell me you don’t want me. That you’re done. You’ll never hear from me again.”

You try, genuinely try to maintain eye contact but his stormy blues dilated with lust and longing only overwhelms you. Overwhelms you in that you should be good and say you don’t, leave, and act as if none of this has happened but you don’t want to. Curtis has easily become a part of you that you can’t let go and truthfully refuse to do so.

In a blink, your lips are frantically crushing against each others. His tongue smoothly, yet still eager, to reclaim your mouth after being away for so long. Your mind quickly enters that haze you only seemed to experience with him, unable to realize your body is being guided somewhere until you’re perched on the edge of a wooden desk. Your hands gripping the back of his neck while his push your pastel blue mini dress up past your hips leaving your lower half exposed to the cool air of the room.

Finally needing to breathe, his lips descend to your jaw then your neck causing you to whine his name wanting more of his mouth on yours. A quiet “shh” is the only warning you get before his hands are spreading your thighs to find a steady growing wet spot on your panties. His fingertips immediately reach to tease along your waiting slit watching as you squirm and moan.

“My needy girl. Probably been forever since he’s touched you like this huh? Made you feel good..”

The back of your head softly thuds against the wall as you lean back on your elbows. Letting yourself get lost in his touches and how his thumb circles your little button through your thoroughly soaked underwear.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this? Know how much I’ve missed you and those little noises you make when you take anything I give you,” he huskily states nipping your earlobe. “My fingers. My tongue. Fuck, and when you take my cock..?”

“Curtis,” you gasp nearly ready to guide his fingers inside you yourself to get that relief you now crave. As always, he knows what you need bringing your delicates swiftly down your legs to circle his middle finger around your dripping hole before plunging deep. The extended moan from your lips directly hitting his cock and making his pants feel tighter.

His ring finger soon joins as they steadily pump in and out. Not having been intimate with your own husband for a while now, you feel pathetic already being so close. Curtis can feel it too, as you clutch and squeeze.

“Should be ashamed of himself not taking care of you like you need. You deserve to be filled all day, every day. Filled to the point you can barely walk without feeling me drip down your legs. That what you want? To be filled with me?”

Your hips buck and grind on their own nearly riding his hand as your skin heats and sweat pricks your forehead. “Y-Yes! Yes Curtis please!,” you moan. His words hitting some deep seated, feral part you didn’t recognize but welcomed while palming your breast.

His mouth catches your scream when he adds a third finger. The room filling with your little “ah ah’s”, squelches, and the knock of the desk against the wall how you bucked to keep up with his fingers.

“Shit, might not ever leave the house. Just keep you by my side always wet and ready. Take you in every room and have you screaming for me.” He palms at the front of his slacks picturing your nude body bent over the counter. Or spread on the table for him and him only. “Or let you ride me and take what you want. Like that night after dinner.”

The way your toes curl and back arches he knows you’re seconds away now. Just needing that extra push to have you a twitching, trembling mess.

“Curtis I-I…please Curtis…Curtis!” Twisting his wrist just slightly to the right, he easily finds your spot as he firmly rubs his palm against you swollen nub making you gush down his hand and onto the hardwood below - a splash or two even finds the top of his shoe. It’s almost like a steady stream as it keeps flowing with every push of his fingers and Curtis can’t help but curse before finding your mouth again.

When you whimper and try to back away he knows it’s too much, slowly halting his movements before removing his hand. Automatically, you’re reaching out for him - needing some grounding force after what felt like your body floating to space - and he gladly lets you wrap your arms around his middle. Your face diving to his chest trying to hide your overwhelmed tears while he rubs your back with his clean hand.

“Did so good for me sweetheart. You feel alright?” You nod, turning your head just enough to catch him suck your release from his fingers; moaning from the taste. “Still so sweet,” he mumbles to himself and you swear you feel a small trickle of release escape your hole from that alone.

Your little bubble of ecstasy is quickly popped when the door opens reminding you of the party downstairs. Curtis shields you the best he can, but your dangling legs can easily be seen.

This makes it easy for Wes to recognize you. His face turning from amused shock at finding the always stone faced Curtis Everett with a woman to anger now realizing you were the moans and screams the men whispered about downstairs.

“The fuck are you doing up here?!,” he shouts making you scramble to get off the desk. Curtis still shields you with his back as you right your dress. Not only for your modesty, but to silently warn Wes he wouldn’t dare stand down.

“W-Wes I can explain-,”

“This was your plan the whole time huh? Use me to get to someone better..”

“No, I..I just-,”

“Just what? Accidentally ended up here with him?! Accidentally let him do whatever?” Now you were gathering a bit of a crowd, only increasing your anxiety.

“Wes please..”

“Please what?! Move on from you being a whore who opens her legs to any man she can get ahead with?!”

“Hey! Watch it,” Curtis warns stepping closer to a slightly drunk Wes.

“And after everything I did for you? Gave to you?!”

“You act like I asked for those things.”

He simply shakes his head before focusing on Curtis. “You know what, good luck with that one. Just a lazy sack that only wants to lie on her back. Can barely do that either always complaining-,”

Curtis didn’t let him finish quickly gripping Wes by the back of his neck making him kneel before you and everyone peeking through the open door. He tried to wiggle free and thrash, but Curtis just tightens his grip controlling Wes as if he was an animal handler trained to do this. Like he’d done it plenty of times before.

“You say you’re the one who gave her everything? Way I see it, you wouldn’t have had everything to give without her. Without your lovely wife, I would’ve already cancelled our partnership leaving you high and dry probably on fry duty at some fast food place. So I suggest you humble yourself pretty fucking quick.”

He seemed to get the message, remaining mostly still besides his back rising and falling from his unsteady breathing. “Matter of fact, I say you thank her.”

Wes is quiet, until Curtis jabs him in the ribs causing him to howl in pain.

“She’s waiting!”

“Th-Thank you! Thank you!,” he shouts sighing in relief when Curtis lets him go.

“Cmon,” he mumbles grabbing your hand to lead you past your husband. Past the vast crowd of people who dared not get in his way.

“W-Where are we going?,” you ask trying to keep up with his longer strides.

“Home.”

“But..but I-,”

Swiftly, he turns catching you against his chest with fingers gently gripping your chin so you’d be sure to hear him. “Home can be my place or yours and he gets put on the street, you choose. Either way from this point on, I’m not letting you stay away from me.” How could you argue with that? Especially now when he was using that commanding tone paired with that intense gaze making your core spasm. “Which one?”

“…Yours.”

He simply kisses your forehead leading you outside to retrieve his car from valet.

As for Wes, he was in for a rude awakening Monday morning when he’d be served an eviction notice saying his office space now belonged to Everett Co., minutes before he was served divorce papers already signed by you and your wedding ring.

-

Not gonna lie, I’m a little iffy about the ending but still I hope everyone enjoys! Also check out the other stories from this challenge as well💕!

[junicult]

I love how you write harvey sm!!! You had me swooning with every words !! So sweet, short, and straight to the point but very flavorful and entertaining! i'm so happy i came across your blog !

I have a prompt that u can feel free to use!

What do you think Harvey is like when he & the farmer just got married? For example, is he very timid that he couldn't sleep when next to the farmer? Is he very hesitant to hold them? Or other things u think/headcanon? Would love to read your thoughts! Thank you so much for your time !!<3

!! harvey as your new husband

contains ; domestic fluff. another post of me rambling lol. entirely sfw! gn!farmer / gender is never implied. short drabble.

note ; i’m in a harvey brainrot rn that every time i try to sit down to write for the other bachelors, i just end up staring at my screen doing nothing 😓

when you were only dating, it wasn’t rare for harvey to come over while you were working after he found some time of his own.

even once, after you invited him over and sighed about how dirty you felt the cottage was since you hardly had time to clean—he became accustomed to do so just for you.

bringing over his own cleaning supplies just to sweep the dust, help with laundry, clean your kitchen and make dinner for you.

and he didn’t even mind doing all of it, just to help you lift the weight of your chores.

so after that one time, and you came home to see a squeaky clean home, and your excellent boyfriend after a particularly exhausting day—you could’ve cried.

not to mention, he goes the great mile. those large yellow gloves over his hands, non-slip shoes and a hardware apron over his clothes so he wouldn’t get himself dirty.

some may say it’s a bit dramatic, but he says prepared.

anyways, it became a routine he was fond of doing.

harvey came over a lot. to the point where his own house didn’t really feel like home anymore.

he hated those nights when he couldn’t come over, forced to sleep in his own bed without you by his side. it would take him longer to fall asleep if he couldn’t feel you next to him. he probably had to hug a pillow just to feel something lol.

so when you got married, it’s safe to say he was ecstatic to be moving out of his lonely apartment. especially when you made time to come help him, packing stuff in boxes.

it really made him realize how life changing it is. to see you labeling each box, sorting through his cds and tapes while talking about your future together.

“i think these would look nice in our living room, i could move my bookshelf over and we could squeeze this in…” you ramble on, face full of concentration.

it made his heart gush, even just hearing you call it our living room.

when you’d “ooo” and “aaa” at items of his you looked forward to decorating the house with, and “uhh” at the ones you didn’t. he couldn’t possibly be upset, if anything, he’d laugh at your honesty. there’s nothing that’d make him upset right now.

so when you were finally married, you had to work but he spent the majority of the day squeezing his stuff into the house like you both planned, it still felt right.

you didn’t have to be beside him, helping him unbox for him to be happy. he found everything seemed to fit in place.

settling in didn’t feel as much of a task as you both thought it’d be. there was always a cloud of sadness when he’d have to leave, so finally that experience was tarnished after the knot was tied.

there’s no leaving anymore, because he always comes right back.

at this point, his nerves being around you were fizzled, but of course he still got butterflies when he’d see you.

any moment he was intimate with you still made him feel much younger with the way his heart would pound and his palms would grow sweaty. even if you were just leaning in to kiss him.

so the first night you two were living together as a married couple—i don’t think he’d be so nervous.

or at least, not nervous in a bad way.

“which side of the bed should i sleep on?”

“harvey, we’ve slept together before. this isn’t new.” you tease.

“well we’ve never slept together as a married couple who lives in the same house. this is the start to the rest of our lives, i want to make sure we’re making the right decision,” and after he realizes what he implied, he’s widening his eyes and shaking his head, “no! not like that! as in, what if i sleep on the right side, but i sleep on my right side so my back is always turned to you—“

“harvey, honey…i’m not going to be mad at you if i wake up and you’re not facing me.” you giggle.

he really knows how to overthink everything.

but once you’re finally tucked in bed together (you on the right, him on the left) i don’t think he’ll overthink at this point.

by now, you’re both so in love that he doesn’t second guess reaching over to hold you anymore. he doesn’t need to rethink all of that.

when you latch onto him, pressing your face into his chest and wrapping your arms around him—he’s bound to get butterflies. you may even hear his heart beat a little quicker. but he’s not shy to give you the same treatment.

if he could, he’d hold you all day. he never wants to let go.

[clown-friend-gt]

Up, Up, and Away: Chapter 3

Seeking Answers

1k words

Link to Masterpost

************************************************************************

It was easy enough to hide the change for the first few days. If Trevor stayed slightly hunched over, it was hard to tell he’d gained a few inches. It wasn’t like people paid him much mind anyways.

By the second week, though, he could tell people were beginning to notice a difference. He kept getting weird looks from other students when he passed by. There was only so much he could do to make himself look smaller when he’d grown over a foot in such a short period of time.

Maybe he should’ve been more grateful. He’d been 4’9” before all of this, of course he wanted to be taller. If it had been slower, or even if it had happened over the summer, maybe it wouldn’t be such a big deal. Why’d it have to happen like this?

Robbie’s attitude was by far the worst part. Any time he got the chance, he’d place a hand on the back of Trevor’s neck and shove him downwards. It was like he felt the need to physically remind Trevor that he was supposed to be the small one. Or maybe he was just reminding himself.

Then there was the time he’d pinned Trevor against a locker, his mouth open to start mocking him. He shut it quickly and scowled when he realized that they were on eye level with each other. Trevor barely caught the look of alarm in his eye as he walked away.

Should he talk to someone about this? Maybe he could talk to that counselor from the Lively Institute. But was this even a superpowers thing? He’d never heard of a superhero with anything like this going on. But what else could it be?

It’d been a few weeks since he started growing when he finally made up his mind to talk to the counselor. He’d had to go shopping for new clothes for the second time in a month. His mom insisted it was fine, but he knew it put a strain on their budget. That was when he had to face the fact that what was happening to him was not normal.

He'd heard that in addition to sponsoring the superheroes of San Solaris, the Lively institute also helped out normal people with superpowers. Maybe they could help him with his problem. So, one day before class started, he sought out the counselor in his office, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the doorframe.

The man looked up from his computer as he walked in, shooting him a smile that felt a little plastic. He stood up to greet him. He had a badge that said, “Lively Institute: Kyle Roberts.”

He dressed a little more like a resource officer than a counselor. He wore a gray button-up, black slacks, and polished black shoes to match. If Trevor hadn’t read what it said, he might’ve mistaken the badge for that of a police officer. He wore a utility belt that included things like the futuristic handcuffs they used on supers, as well as a gun in its holster.

“Trevor Castillo?” he asked, pronouncing his last name wrong, like Cuh-still-oh. Trevor didn’t bother to correct him, instead nodding his head to show he was the right person.

“Hey, I don’t think we’ve met,” Mr. Roberts continued, sticking his hand out for Trevor to shake. He took it, and the man shook his hand firmly

“I’m surprised I haven’t seen you around, you’re so tall!” he finished with a chuckle.

“…Yeah,” Trevor replied awkwardly, letting his hand go. Mr. Roberts motioned for him to sit, so he did. Then Mr. Roberts sat down in his own chair.

“So, what brings you in here today?” He asked him.

“Well, um,” Trevor struggled to find the right words. “The reason you probably haven’t noticed me before is because I wasn’t always this tall. It’s a, uh, recent change.”

Mr. Roberts frowned in thought. “Your powers?” he asked.

“I think so?”

“Well,” Mr. Roberts began, “Thanks for telling us first. We always like to hear it from the students themselves when their powers come in, instead of finding it out the hard way.

“You have a lot of opportunity ahead of you,” he swiveled in his chair to reach for a pamphlet behind him. “The Lively Institute is committed to guiding the heroes of the future as they come into their own.”

“Right,” Trevor spoke up, interrupting his spiel. “I just wanted to know if there was any way to stop it?”

Mr. Roberts seemed a little thrown at being interrupted, but soon continued.

“That’s up to you. Our Future Heroes Training Program has a variety of experts to assist you in terms of control, technique, and more.”

Trevor was beginning to get a little impatient. He leaned forward as he spoke, causing Mr. Roberts to lean away slightly.

“What if I don’t want to be a superhero? Isn’t there like a cure or something?”

Mr. Roberts was clearly struggling now that they were going off-script.

“W-well,” he stammered. “Taking powers away is usually something done as—as a last resort, and never to non-criminals. I’d advise you to look into the program if you’re looking for answers about your powers.”

He slowly slid the brochure towards Trevor.

Trevor slumped in his seat. “So you can’t help me?”

“Um. There is a help hotline for supers who aren’t affiliated with the institute, but there’s little assistance we can offer.” Mr. Roberts handed him a card with a number written on it.

Trevor took it in two fingers, trying not to roll his eyes.

“Thanks,” he said flatly, then stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Wait,” Mr. Roberts spoke up as he reached the door. Trevor looked over his shoulder.

“If you end up calling that number, could you let them know I referred you?” he asked.

Trevor turned and stormed off, letting the door slam behind him as he left.

First/Last/Next

[heyidkyay]

I guess I’ll take this pain, instead of your name |

Part Twenty-Two

Butterflies, summertime, all belong to your creation!

A/n: HII:) The whole band is finally in Spain and I'm really hoping that everyone enjoys this chapter, it took a while to piece together, had to look back at old parts too many times to count, but there's finally some well deserved cuteness and fluff in here! I think this has one of my favourite G and Birdie encounters yet... Anyway, hope you like it x

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: TOO MANY EMOTIONS, little bit of dark humour I hope no one takes offence to, mentions of anxiety and inner struggles, touches on a bad relationship with a parent(/family), BUT there finally is some fluff!!

Masterlist

--

Outside, it was warm and lovely, but inside the villa… it was anything but.

Since I’d gotten home the previous afternoon, with even more medication strapped under my belt and a freshly printed release form in hand, the atmosphere had been tense.

George was staying with us- that was probably the quickest way to explain things.

What with the whole band coming to Tenerife and a villa far too big for just two people, it only made sense for all the boys to crash there too. Plus, Matty had made the argument about them making use of the space to work on their album, knowing full-well I still felt guilty about the whole ordeal. 

It had been cruel, but it’d worked, and so I’d come home from the hospital to find George’s suitcase in the room one over from mine and a ginormous pair of shoes in the entryway.

The latter had stilled me in place when I’d first spotted them, bringing back one too memories as I’d stumbled in through the front door. Matty’s excited chatter had been the only thing to draw me back to the present, as he’d called out to George, who’d made himself quite at home on the settee, whilst simultaneously planning things with Hann, who was on the phone.

I’d gone straight to bed after that, feigning exhaustion, which Matty had believed but George had raised an eyebrow to. He’d known better than to question it though, especially with the thin ice he was currently treading on, but I’d felt his eyes follow me all the way up the stairs.

Today was a new day though. I’d woken up, showered, made myself a light breakfast (doctors orders), which had gone down quite well with the new anti-sickness tablets they had me taking, as well as the stronger dose of pain relief I'd been given. I was ready for anything it could throw at me. 

Matty had barrelled down the stairs not long after though, talking a mile a minute about flights and times and some other nonsense I hadn't been able to make out. I’d actually had to ask George what he’d been going on about when the giant had rolled in from the patio outside.

He hadn’t looked like he’d slept much, but it’d been hard to tell from behind the big black sunnies he wore. And I’d bit my tongue to keep from asking just how long exactly he’d been out there, whether or not he’d avoided coming back in once he’d spotted me downstairs at the kitchen counter. 

Turned out though, both Ross and Hann were already at Heathrow airport and boarding a direct flight to Spain. Hann had just texted Matty saying that they’d be landing in the next couple hours, or so he hoped. 

Which is what ultimately led to me waiting on the front-step of the villa like an excited little kid, waiting for the two to pull up, but also using it as an avid excuse to avoid George further. 

It wasn’t long before the sound of tires had my head lifting just in time to spot a sleek car coming to a slow stop at the curb. I grinned at the first man who emerged from the backseat of the cab and hurried my way down to meet them.

“Wahey! Look who it is!” Ross exclaimed with a big grin once he spotted me, hair brushing against the length of his shoulders whilst his squinted eyes, hidden behind brown lenses, took me in. He opened his arms out wide as I approached and was gentle with me when I leapt into them, chuckling as he spun the two of us around.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here!” I breathed into his neck, unable to dampen my sudden rush of happiness.

I squeezed him once more before he finally dropped me down onto the balls of my bare feet. The pavement was warm beneath them, but not hot enough to have me prancing about like a prat trying to avoid burning the soles. Matty had learnt that lesson the hard way our second day here, when he’d made the mistake of going out to pick up a takeaway with no shoes on.

“Couldn’t let the three of you have all the fun now, could we?” My head darted away from Ross and quickly over in the direction of the boot, just in time to see Hann rounding it.

“Adam!” I was quick to rope him into a giant hug too, asking after Carly and about the things I’d missed back home just as Matty and George sauntered their way down the drive.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Ross whistled once Matty had slipped the cab driver a few euros and the car had begun to pull away. I glanced over in time to find him staring up at the house. “You said it was big, but this is maddening.”

Matty snorted whilst I sidled up next to the bearded bassist, his reaction had been similar to that of mine. “Thought you’d be used to this sort of thing now. What with being in a big band and having Matthew here as your frontman, the diva.”

The rest of the guys chuckled when Matty swatted at my arm, but I merely shrugged him off before I made my way over to where a lone suitcase stood. I’d just been about to grasp at the handle when, almost on command, all four men cried out causing me to jump away from the thing with my hands surrendered.

My eyes were wide when I turned back to them, “What the fuck! Is there a bomb or summat in there?”

“No,” Hann dragged out around an airy chuckle, skirting by me to grab it instead, I frowned when none of the guys made the slightest huff at the action. “It’s alright I’ll get it.”

My brow only furrowed further when I made a grab for one of the duffles that had been left on the curb, before it was hastily swept up by a smiling Matty. I chewed at the insides of my cheeks to keep from screaming.

“I’m not going to break, you know?” I told the four of them sternly, looking each one of them in the eye. “I can carry a fucking bag inside.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to.” Matty retorted, grinning like that had been the right thing to say to me just then.

My chest rose with my next irritated breath, but Ross was there wrapping an arm around my shoulders before I could release it. 

“Alright! Show me this pool then, hey? Haven’t stopped thinking about it since you first showed me, practically dreamt I was swimming in it on the flight over.” He told me, leading us further away, and reluctantly I allowed it, muttering under my breath whilst the rest of them debated amongst themselves on how to lug the bags in without Ross’s help.

This was going to be long trip.

—

“What’s with the evil eye?”

I jumped slightly at the sound of Ross’s voice, glancing up at him when he came to stand just over my shoulder, my brow pinched. 

“Do you always have to eat apples like that?” I questioned him, wrinkling my nose as I swiped my upper arm free from a mixture of fruit juice and Ross slobber, “Right over me too.”

Ross grinned, uncaring. “And what’s wrong with the way I eat apples?”

“Horses are more civilised.” I rebuked and he snorted in turn.

“But you wouldn’t change me for the world though.” Ross replied with a sarky smile, wrapping one arm over my shoulder and around my collar, “Just like I wouldn’t change you bein’ a moody mare.”

I pursed my lips but didn’t shove him away. “I’m not moody, just hot.”

Ross hummed and I knew that he knew I was lying- although, it was growing warmer and warmer the more minutes that passed.

“So that glare you’ve got going on is just for the heat, yeah? Not the twat sat over there in that deck chair?”

I’d been made. With a heavy sigh I crossed my arms over my chest and fought against the petulant pout that wanted to overtake my features.

“He’s sat right under my tree, Ross!” I groaned, sounding like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. The bassist laughed and I allowed my body to melt further into his embrace, letting him hold me up.

“Sort of recognise it now you’ve said.” He murmured, then I felt him shrug, “Just go and tell him to piss off if you want it back.”

I pulled a face.

“What, why not?” Ross chuckled down at me, I ignored the loud chomp he made just above my head.

“I’m avoiding him.” I told him simply.

“Oh really? How’s that going for you then?” He asked sarcastically. 

It was my turn then to shrug, which was a hard task considering I was still cocooned in his arms. “How’d you think.”

Ross snorted softly, “Ten days, muggins. Ten days and you’ll be home free.”

I groaned again, slumping as I felt my head fall back and eyes close. “Isn’t it bad enough me feeling so crap? What did I do to deserve this much karma?”

“Definitely a serial killer in another life.”

I frowned at the quick answer Ross gave and lifted my chin up to better see him. “You had that on hand.”

He gave me a lopsided grin, “It’s that smile you get when someone’s pissed you off.”

I laughed, knowing what he meant, and relaxed again. 

We paused there for a moment, basking in the peace, before Ross went to speak again, his voice softer than it had been. “You in much pain then?”

I inhaled slowly, already regretting having brought up that I felt crap. “Just all these pills.”

His arm tightened its hold so that his free hand could squeeze my bicep. “Don’t have to pretend with me, yeah? If shit gets too much, let me know.”

I wanted to roll my eyes, thinking about how the rest of the guys had begun walking on eggshells around me again, but his offer was too sincere. “Really I’m okay.” I assured him instead, then tried for another laugh, “Just want me tree back.”

He did chuckle and I squirmed slightly when he knocked his chin into the side of my head, tickling my ear.

“Well then, let’s go piss G off.” He decided, loosening his hold to drag me off towards the garden. “If we try hard enough, maybe he’ll just sod off and we won’t have to say a word to him.”

“Fingers crossed.” I laughed.

—

By early evening Ross and Hann’s first day here, we were all getting ready to walk ourselves into town, the guys having decided amongst themselves that they wanted to go out for dinner and see the sights after we’d been cooped up all day.

I’d thrown on a strappy midi dress, something that hid a lot of skin but still kept me cool, and paired it with a pair of light samba’s to match. I was just tying the laces on them, perched on the bottom step of the staircase and listening to everyone else rush about getting ready, when someone trailed down behind me.

I knew it was him without looking, immediately having recognised the falls of his feet, but the hesitant pause about midway had also been a dead giveaway. 

It made sense that it’d be him though. The two of us had always been the first ones ready, it’d been an ongoing thing for years now, and typically we’d make proper use of the time we got alone together before the chaos truly started. 

I fought the urge to reminisce on shared kisses and quiet whispers in crowded hallways as I slid over a tad to accommodate him, figuring he’d just slip by me and wait in the lounge for the rest of them. But it was just as I’d finished tying my first shoe that he sat down beside me. 

Immediately I stilled at the gesture, but that was the only response I gave his unanticipated presence, swallowing down whatever confusion I felt before I tugged at my remaining lace.

Breathing shallow, I could see his fingers tapping away aimlessly against the side of his knee next to me, just out of the corner of my eye. Most believed that the tic related to his job as a drummer, tap tap tap, and in a way I suppose it did, but those who knew him, knew better. Drumming was just something George could always revert back to, something he found solace in, it gave him a moments peace in the mayhem his mind created. That tapping was a nervous habit sure, although other times it helped him to keep track of his countless thoughts.

I tried not to glance over at him, even as I struggled with my right shoelace- you’d have thought I’d have figured out how to tie them with a cast on by now, but no. It was still a task and a half. 

I grew frustrated easily, muttering under my breath when the aglet got caught again on the plastic which encased my palm. “Fucking can’t wait to get you off.”

George’s loud and obnoxious snort made me jump, which inevitably caused me to fumble with the lace. I shot him a heated glare at the fact that I'd have to start over again. 

“What’s so funny?”

Looking at him now, even in the dim entryway light, I could finally see everything I’d been missing out on from the distance I’d created between us. The moles that dotted this side of his face, the faint stubble which now lined his jaw and chin, the squinting of his eyes as he struggled to dampen his growing amusement.

“Nothing.” He replied, though it was said around a huffy chuckle that he hadn’t meant to let escape. I raised a brow in retort and he relented quicker than I was used to. Normally he loved to bicker with me, really got a kick out of it. “Just, what you said innit.”

My forehead furrowed and I thought back to the words I’d said, before it finally hit me. I couldn’t help the reluctant laugh that bubbled from my lips, but I rolled my eyes at him with a minute smile. “Yeah well, you should be so lucky.”

He hummed softly and I had to look away then, instead choosing to focus back on my shoe. Two loops were typically easier than one these days and, if I didn’t fumble with the left lace too much, I could usually just adjust the tightness it once I’d finally tucked it through. 

I bit back an unearthly grunt when it slipped through my fingers again, far past the road of regret for having not just thrown on a pair of sandals.

“Here, let me.” I heard George say and before I knew what was happening, he’d gently taken hold of my ankle and pulled it up over his knee. 

I was quick to hold down the end of my dress, not wanting it to ride up, and swallowed past the lump which had rapidly formed in the back of my throat at the action. We weren’t meant to be talking, he wasn’t even supposed to be here, let alone tying my laces for me! 

I inhaled sharply at the feel of his thumb pressing against my skin. 

“I could do it myself.” I muttered to him quietly. He nodded, deft fingers fast as they wrapped themselves around a laced loop and tugged, tying a perfect bow.

“I know.” He replied just as softly, then peered over at me, and I wondered, briefly, what he saw.

A loud thump directly above us had us both startling out of whatever staring contest we’d lost ourselves in and I was quick to take back my leg, resettling myself in the position I’d taken earlier, actively avoiding meeting his eye. “Thanks.”

George coughed lightly but didn’t make the effort to move away like I thought he would. I fiddled with the straps of my dress for a moment, and it was then that my eyes seemed to make their way back over to him on their own accord.

He was dressed nicely, I noted. Clad in a light linen shirt, a contrast to all the black I’d seen him in lately, and a pair of washed blue jeans. I had to stop myself from reaching out towards him when my gaze finally caught the butterfly that had been embroidered into the thigh. It was bright, pretty. 

“I like the jeans.” I found myself stating, and although I kept my head trained towards the floor, I felt his gaze skitter over towards me.

“Got them last tour.” He murmured, fingernail picking at a stitch on top of the butterfly’s left wing. “Weird though, ’cause I thought of you when I first saw ‘em.”

Internally I screamed to myself. Why did he have to go and add that detail?

Then mindlessly my hand came to a rest on the right side of my ribcage, where we both knew a tiny butterfly tattoo was hidden away. Only now it was framed by scars, none of which he’d seen. 

“Oi, Hann where did you say my roll-on was again?” Came Matty’s loud shout from the landing just above us and I peered up to find him dangling over the banister, as though he figured it would further his voice the closer he got to the opposing door.

“In the bathroom cabinet!” Adam responded, far enough away that I strained to even hear it.

“The fuck you put it in there for?” Muttered Matty, exhaling a heavy huff as he started to push himself off of the banister, but that was when he caught sight of the two of us down below. He shot George and I the cheekiest smirk. “‘Ello, what’s all this then? Do I smell reconciliation in the air?”

I rolled my eyes, but my left ear had started ringing just after his hello and the sound of his voice quickly became muted. With a wince, I raised a hand and pressed a finger to the outer shell, something that typically helped dull the incessant sound.

Peering back up, I saw that Matty was no longer there and so I looked to George to see if I could read much of his expression, determine whether or not the curly haired twat had made the situation we were in any more uncomfortable.

But when I did, George was already looking back at me, hooded eyes trained on the hand I held against my ear, as well as my undeniable grimace. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked and I made it out, only just, by focusing on his lips.

“Ringing.” I said and realised I’d spoken a bit too loudly when his head jerked back a tad, apparently having caught him off guard. “Sorry, just- don’t worry, it’ll go in a sec.”

George’s worried eyes darted between mine when he nodded, and my face grew warm at the thought of him having to witness me like this. I went to stand, an excuse about needing some air already on the tip of my tongue, before he caught me. I glanced down to where his fingers gently brushed against the skin of my arm.

“What do you need?”

I blinked, surprised by the question.

I went to shake my head, wave him off, but his face turned imploring. “Come on, just tell me.”

The ringing felt like a tidal wave had just been funnelled through my ear canal and the sharp pain, which usually accompanied it, shot down my jaw. I didn’t care for the fact that it was George stood there anymore, or how his persona had shifted so quickly when he’d seen the distress I was suddenly in. So I let him help. I let him in.

“Pain relief.” I told him through gritted teeth. “Kitchen side.”

He dipped his head once, squeezed my elbow, then hurried off.

I, in turn, simply slumped against the staircase. Damning every deity there might’ve been for the position they’d put me in.

“Fucks sake.”

—

George had been shooting me looks all evening long. I couldn’t tell if they were of concern or question, but they were hard to ignore and even harder to avoid. 

I hadn’t mentioned the ringing I’d felt to anyone and he’d followed suit, which was something I’d much appreciated, and the whole thing had died down by the time we’d made it out the door. Though, I was still wary.

The five of us had crowded ourselves around a wooden table on the deck of a Grillhouse that sat a stretch away from the sand, it hadn’t been the first restaurant we’d passed by but was on the first street we’d wandered down. The weather was warm enough to sit out the front too, under a gazebo littered with a string of yellow fairy-lights and a long lit fire-pit. 

After settling in, we’d mainly just ordered both cold and hot tapas to pass around and share, and the guys had gotten a couple of pitchers for the table, which I’d stayed clear of. Matty, on the other hand, had folded like a deck of cards and claimed that ‘our little trip’ had ended almost three hours ago now. I’d shaken my head and laughed outwardly, stating that he’d failed to stay sober the second he’d chosen to have those glasses of cava two nights prior.

It had been nice though, sat around laughing and talking with them all. We hadn’t done something like it since my birthday dinner at Matty’s house all those weeks ago, and even then it’d been almost a year and a half before that. George and I were to blame for it, I knew that, but it was just so lovely being there with the four of them that I couldn’t bring myself to point fingers or blame. I just wanted to enjoy my time with them, not knowing how many more moments we’d get to do it again.

Ross throwing his napkin onto the table had sounded the end of dinner bell and so we’d paid and left the owner with a hefty tip for having put up with all our antics and rowdy party. Then started our walk back through the town.

“Oh, we’re so going in there!” Matty piped up the second he spotted a nightclub ahead and the lads were been quick to surrender, not that they’d put up much of a fight, most of them down to grab a couple more drinks and listen to some music. Knowing Matty and Ross they’d probably be looking for someone to take home too. 

I didn’t want to dampen the night, but I knew if I stayed with them I’d only ruin their fun. Plus, my head and ears wouldn’t thank me for it later.

So I begged off. “You know what, I’m gonna head back to the house, I’m knackered after all that food.” I laughed lightly, pressing a hand to my stomach. 

Hann and Ross were quick with their offers to join me, the latter already making plans to curl up on the sofa with a film on the giant tele, but then Matty started claiming that he’d walk me back to the villa and rejoin the lot of them later, which the other two had looked sort of okay with. But I’d hastily waved away each of their plans, not wanting to be a burden.

“No, you lot have fun. Enjoy Spain for me, yeah?” I grinned broadly, “I can grab a cab. I’m only gonna head straight to bed anyway.”

“But-” Both Ross and Matty attempted, I just shook my head.

“Honestly. I’ll be fine. More concerned about you idiots.”

The lot of them didn’t look too fond over the idea of me leaving on my own, but then George pocketed the phone he’d been so focused on during our walk over and stepped over the line of divide I’d made.

“I’m gonna go back too. Can’t be fucked with all the people, heads banging after those shots we had too.” He told them, surprising not only me but the rest of the boys as well.

“You sure, man?” Matty quizzed, brown eyes darting suspiciously over to where I stood for a split second.

George nodded at him, humming. “‘Course. Plus, I think we’ve already been made.”

We all followed the direction he’d jutted his chin in and spotted a trio of girls who’d just stumbled their way out of the club, one with their mobile already out, the other two giggling as they gawped at our group. 

Almost immediately I felt uncomfortable knowing that their eyes were on us. Which was new for me where fans were concerned. I frowned at the feeling, but then George was saying something in reply to Hann and the other three were parting ways from us, leaving George to turn and silently nod his head down the street at me.

I stepped over to join him, ignoring the becking calls I heard from behind us as we trailed back the way we’d came.

Once the shouts had finally died out and there weren’t too many large drunken groups swanning about, I had to fight to keep myself from questioning George on just what his motives had been when he’d offered to accompany me back to the house.

Albeit saying that, just because I was biting my tongue, didn’t mean that George had gotten the same memo. I looked over to him when I heard him speak.

“Want one?” He asked, and my gaze flitted down towards the Spanish pack of Camel’s he’d extended out towards me.

I wasn’t really supposed to be smoking, they’d said it would affect the healing process even weeks after surgery. And so I hadn’t touched one since the accident. Even Matty had avoided smoking around me, went to the struggle of changing clothes too whenever he’d gone through a couple whilst having been out. It’d been hard, to stop so abruptly. Even though I hadn’t been the world’s heaviest smoker, being told not to do something only made me crave it ten times harder.

So I stared down at the pack for more than a reasonable amount of time, enough to make George pause and question his offer.

“You can say no.”

I blinked and glanced up at his face, to the cigarette dangling from his bottom lip, then back down.

I didn’t want to say no, especially with the way my skin was still crawling from the few lingering looks the band typically garnered, but I couldn’t bring myself to actually do it.

So now we were at an odd sort of standstill. The two us stopped in the middle of a quiet little street, only lamps to light the way. He stood directly beneath one, gaze trained on me. My own flickered away from the pack and down to the slight movement his right hand made, where he’d just pulled something from his back pocket.

“Are you even allowed?” George asked me after a while and I wanted to shed an actual tear when he tucked the Camel’s back into his jeans to cradle a hand around the fag he had in his mouth. 

I went to nod but hesitated, unsure, then felt my head tilt sideways when I caught a glimpse of the shiny metal he held, it glinted under the light of the streetlamp.

“Why do you still have that?” I questioned him as he proceeded to light his cigarette, then watched when he lowered the lighter to peer down at it.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

What was with all these questions? Why could neither one of us just give the other a straight answer?

“‘Cause I gave it to you.” I replied, voice quiet as I took in the familiar smell of smoke that released from his parted lips.

“Exactly.” George said, flicking the old lighter over in his palm a few more times, eyes drifting up towards me again.

“You kept it because I gave it to you?” I asked for clarification, brows knitting together.

He looked back at me as though he thought I was stupid for even asking, then shrugged. “It was your dad’s. It meant something to him, then it meant something to you. Now it means something to me.”

I swallowed thickly. He was the most bewildering person I knew. Even when I felt like I had him figured out, he’d toss a spanner into the works. 

“Can I?”

His forehead pinched at my question, then he held the lighter out towards me. I just shook my head, I knew that lighter better than the back of my own hand, having carried it around with me for more than half a decade. I didn’t need it, nor did I want it. I’d gifted it to him and, as much as he’d hurt me, I still loved him. Always would. He was George.

“No,” I said and then gestured to his mouth. His eyebrows lifted but was quick to dip his head at the ask, taking the cigarette from between his lips to hold out towards me. I took it cautiously and held it between my fingertips for a second, “Sort of like riding a bike, ain’t it?”

George started to cough when the smoke he’d just inhaled got caught in the back of his throat as he laughed. “Sort of.” He chuckled, still coughing away as he slapped a hand against his chest, “Fuckin’ hell, Birdie.”

I couldn’t help the grin I wore as I watched on, then started to walk again, pressing the end of the cigarette to my lips. I only inhaled a small amount and savoured the strange but familiar taste, glancing back over my shoulder to blow a trail of smoke at George who’d quickly caught up with his long legs.

I took another drag, a bigger one this time, and let my eyes fall close at the release it gave me before I made myself pass it back to him.

“Much easier than riding a bike.” I deemed, smiling around a ring of smoke and looking over at him when he chuckled again.

“Probably.” George reasoned, staring down at the pink embering flame. “So, why’re you really headed back then?”

“Could ask you the same.” I quipped in retort, watching my feet trail over broken cobblestones. 

George hummed, was quiet for a minute, then tried again, “Alright, how’s this then, I ask you a question, you answer, you ask me a question, I answer. You only get to skip one.”

I narrowed my eyes in thought. This could be just what I’d been hoping for all those weeks ago, back at George’s, but I wondered if I even wanted to know now. If I was better not.

With a shrug, I levelled him with a look. “Any other rules?”

“Have to tell the truth.”

“Obviously.” 

He pursed his lips at my interruption but carried on like I hadn’t spoken. “And the questions end the second we reach the house.”

I thought it over and supposed that was fair. It wasn’t much of a walk back, but there’d be enough time to get a couple good questions in.

“Alright. Who goes first?”

George took another drag, hummed, then gestured towards me. “Ladies first and all that.”

Ever the gentleman. 

I huffed a tiny chuckle, then said, “Fine, favourite colour?” George gave me a bewildered look, as if to say really? And so I shrugged at him, smiling. “Figured we’d start off easy.”

His eyes trailed between my own. “Green.”

I nodded. It’d had always been green, so I guess it was nice to know that at least that hadn’t changed.

“Did you really fancy Andy Lough in year eleven?”

His question caught me so off guard that I released an ugly snort. 

“Oh yeah,” I exaggerated, “All those muscles and the fact that he only ever talked about rugby, proper got me going.”

“Can’t lie, remember.” George grinned at me and so I rolled my eyes, wearing a small smile of my own. 

“I was teasing, Daniel.” I replied with a drawn out sigh, “But fine, no I didn’t.”

He hummed. “Knew it.”

I shook my head at him, then remembered it was my go. “Erm, so did you ever make up with your mum?”

His attention darted towards me at that, like a rubber band snapping back into place. 

“Okay, so I guess we’re easing away from easy now…”

I almost wanted to apologise but didn’t, he had a skip. If he wanted to, he could not answer. And besides, I was curious. Had been since I’d brought her up at his the night of the accident. 

George’s mum was very much a sensitive topic, and although she’d always liked me, I’d struggled to form much of a connection to her, or any of George’s immediate family for that matter. He hardly ever saw them, never even spoke much about them either, but when he did, it was only in a fits of irritation, or anger.

George was quiet for a few steps and for a moment I really believed that he was going to use his skip. But then he cleared his throat lightly, “We did and we didn’t.”

I glanced over at him, curious, but found him staring out at the dark blue that had stained the sky just over the hill.

“She couldn’t get over me being away so much. Having my name in the papers and online. She hated it, said it made her look bad.” He divulged and took another long drag, “When we argued over it, that last time, she said some shit. It was hard to hear. And my dad, he didn’t say a word about it. Just let her get away with it. We’ve spoken since but haven’t really seen each other.”

“What about Christmas?” I couldn’t help but ask him. 

George turned to me with a convincing enough smirk then. “My go, remember?”

"What do you mean, wasn't that your question?” I smart-mouthed, but he was always quick on the uptake.

“Ah, and now it’s just come back to me.”

I shook my head and chuckled. “Go on then.”

“That doctor,” He begun and already I wanted to groan. Really? He’d waste a question on something as awkward as this? It would seem so because he really did. “What’s up with you and him?”

I wrapped my arms around myself, mostly to ward off the nippy air that had crept up on us, but perhaps as a precautionary measure too, already feeling a spike in my anxiety.

“We met before he was my doctor.” I revealed, aiming for nonchalance, “We bumped into each other whilst I’d been waiting for Matty. He was nice, we spoke for a while. But the next time I saw him was when I ended up in hospital. Didn’t even know he was a doctor ’til then.”

“So you’re not seeing him?” George asked and I raised an eyebrow at his cheek to even try.

“One, that’s none of your business. Two, it’s my go, remember?” I smirked as I repeated his words back to him. He relented easily enough. “Okay. Um, why’d you lie about LA when we split?”

The cigarette we’d shared had since burnt down to a stub and I watched on as George kicked the butt away with his foot, hands tucking themselves into the back pockets of his jeans.

“I don’t know really.” And he shrugged as best he could with the way he’d restrained himself, staring off again. “First thing that came to mind I ‘spose and, I don’t know, sounded like the best idea at the time. LA, I could work, keep my mind off things, party and just forget.”

I swallowed thickly. Forget what? I wanted to ask, but it wasn’t my turn.

“Ended up ‘round Ross’s didn’t I?” George went on, “Camped out there for weeks. Was a proper cunt to me about it, too. Switched off the hot water whenever he was home and I was in the shower. Made me take the bins out and wash his shit-stained pants. Pretty sure he even combed his beard with my toothbrush too, though he never did admit it.”

I snorted, unable to help the path my mind strayed to, “Could’ve just as easily been his pubes.”

The grimace that morphed George’s entire face had me howling with laughter. 

“Why’d you have to go and say that!” He cried and I struggled to breathe a tad, ended up almost stumbling into him as we continued walking, but I caught the crook of his elbow just before I could. 

He was still looking a little queasy at the thought, though he was chuckling away now as well.

I couldn’t help myself. “I’m sorry, I am. But knowing Ross…”

“Yeah, yeah.” George was quick to bat my comment away, obviously not wanting to think about it much more than he already had. He untucked his hand from his pocket then and neither one of us said a thing about it when we silently decided to keep our arms linked. “Fucking hell, really do not want to be thinking about my tongue having been anywhere near-”

He cut himself off with a gagging sort of sound and I was grinning so hard it’d started to hurt.

“Awh! I bet Ross looks after all his downstairs bits though, you know, seeing how perfectly well-kept his beard is.”

“Birdie, please.” George all but begged, wincing at my words, “Change the subject.”

I eased up. “Fine, but only because I’m so lovely.”

He scoffed, “Yeah and someday I’ll win a BAFTA.”

“Oi, you could.” I defended with a faint slap to his bicep. “You’ve got the face for it. Could see you in loads of films.”

“Oh yeah?” George smirked, fishing for another compliment, I figured. “Playing what?”

“Stroke victim or summat.”

He gaped and then glared at me, but smiled when I laughed.

“I’m just joking, G. Christ, don’t go taking my head off.” George was silent for a second and I peered up to find him already watching me. I furrowed my brow. “What?”

“Just, ’s been a while since you last called me that.” He murmured and I felt my chest tighten at the expression he wore. 

G. It’d been the name I’d dubbed him with way back when, something which had caught on quick… Those 1975 boys were a bunch of thieves, I tell you, they'd even pinched their own band name. 

I shrugged a shoulder at him, trying to act like it’d been nothing more than a slip. “You gonna go then? Pretty sure it’s your turn.”

“Right.” George remembered, the glint in his eye gone now as he turned to look ahead. “Um, alright, why’d you really want to leave tonight then?”

“Oh,” I was honestly surprised that he’d even remembered the question that’d started this whole charade off, let alone realise that he actually cared to know. I licked at my lower lip and then took a deep breath. “Truth?” I exhaled, the word falling from my mouth before I could stop myself, trailing out into the wind.

He nodded.

“Alright, so since the um,” I struggled to find another word for it, but realised that there probably weren’t many. “After the accident…” 

I felt George tense beside me but decided to continue on anyway. He had asked and I was yet to utilise my skip. 

“Basically I’ve had a lot of trouble with my head, migraines and all that. I hit it pretty hard the first time around, they reckoned I must’ve flown at least a couple of feet-”

“I know.”

My breath hitched at his quiet comment and I attempted to keep my cool, to carry on like he hadn’t said a word, like he hadn’t just said that.

“I, yeah, right well, when I hit it, it did a bit more damage than they first realised. The impact perforated my eardrum or something of the like. Could hardly hear out of the left side for ages after I woke up, kept buzzing and ringing, sounded like it did when you’d hold a seashell up to your ear at the beach when you were a kid, only worse.”

“And now?” He prompted, our feet moving like clockwork. Left and then right, again and again.

“Just happens whenever now. Struggle to hear out of it properly most of the time, but the doctors say it could heal. I dunno about that though.”

“Why not?”

I sighed quietly, mostly to myself, hand still gripping at his arm. “Not sure, the pain I guess. And the fact that it hasn’t eased up since.”

George hummed and surprised me when he laid his hand over my own, fingers longer than mine, hiding them beneath his. “Is that what happened, you know, earlier?”

With a nod I found myself replying easily, “Yeah. After I fainted, they’ve been ringing more and more frequently. Louder now too. Alvaro says is post-concussion syndrome, that I’ll just have to suffer through until it heals on its own.”

I shrugged the shoulder not pressed against George’s side.

“Could be worse, I ‘spose.” 

And George, he squeezed my hand tightly, tight enough to whiten the skin of his knuckles whilst he just nodded in retort. He kept quiet for a long while after.

It was just as the familiar hill, the villa hid behind, came into view that he spoke up again.

“Reckon we’ve got time for one more question. Your go, ain’t it?”

I glanced up at him, it was late and the stars were out, being stood there with him brought back a lot of emotions. Memories of us in Denise’s back garden, on the curb outside my house when I’d locked us out, in the backseat of his tiny Corsa, curled up on the grassy fields behind the school...

"Instead of a question, can I have a promise?”

“Isn’t that a question in itself?” He teased, but must’ve seen the look on my face because he was quickly nodding, “Yeah, you can have a promise, Birdie.”

It was an effort to tear my gaze away from his, but I couldn’t just ask and risk seeing his reaction if it went wrong. 

We’d long since stopped walking, so I took a deep breath and felt his hand squeeze mine again. “Can you just promise me that tomorrow, when you’re sober and had time to sleep on it, that you’ll finally consider telling me everything?”

His breath hitched at my words and I forced my eyes to find the floor.

“And when I say everything, George, I really mean it. Even the stuff that hurts. Especially the stuff that hurts.”

George didn’t reply straight away. Actually I’m not sure how much time passed before I felt his fingertips skim the skin of my jaw, drawing my gaze back.

He looked so serious when my eyes found his and for a moment everything fell away. The resentment I held, the struggle to heal, the cold that had long since wrapped its way around my fragile heart.

“I can make that promise.”

Part Twenty-Three>

[ofmermaidstories]

You don’t know where your son came from.

Ostensibly, he’s the best of you and Deku both—his big eyes are all Izuku’s, his grin (sharp and fleeting) is all yours. But your little boy burns with so much life, you don’t know where he gets it from, what fiery star he’s mined it from. Before he was born, before he even existed, a psychic had told you three things about him: that he had been here before, that he would be a leader, and that he would be your husband’s biggest heartache.

(“I don’t have a husband,” you’d told her, stoutly. You were twenty three and chronically single, at that stage; you never liked the people around you enough to let them close enough to change your mind.

She arched an eyebrow, but didn’t look up from the playing cards she was now flipping over, like she was reading the future in the red hearts, the black spades.

“Don’t sweat the details,” she’d said, unbothered, like she hadn’t just told you your future child and husband were hurtling towards some great pain you couldn’t save them from. “He’s on his way now. He needs you just as much as you need him, I think. And the boy. Eventually.”

“You just said they’re gonna hate each other,” you pointed out, annoyed, and the woman sighs. She hadn’t been your idea of a psychic at all—with her neatly kept, shining hair and the designer polo shirt she was wearing. The tennis-white shoes, the singular golden bangle.

“I said he’d be your husband’s biggest heartache,” she reminds you. “That could mean anything. Use your imagination. You’re going to need it, with the life you have in front of you.”

You hadn’t been very impressed, with that—the feeling mutual, apparently, since she ended the session shortly after. And though you laughed about it with your friends later on, you thought of it again when you met Deku—Izuku. Izuku, and the way he had taken your hand, promising you he was there, that you were safe—that you were safe with him.)

You almost didn’t have him—you almost didn’t want him, want children. What would you do with one? Dedicate the rest of your life to it? How could you ensure it’d be safe? You couldn’t—no one could, not even your superhero husband. Your superhero husband who had been the epicentre of the war that tore Japan apart, when you were both teens. Who had lost mentors and classmates alike to it. Who knew the cost of what he was asking of you.

(Izuku brings it up long before you’re engaged, in the dark when you’re flush against him, his salty skin.

“Have you ever—have you ever thought of—”

You frown against where you’d been pressing lazy, afterglow kisses to his collarbone, pulling away to continue frowning into the night, as he trailed gentle fingers down your spine.

“No.” You say. And then after a moment, when that doesn’t stop his tenderness, his careful touching, you admit, “I don’t know. I don’t know what I want.”

The what do you want goes unsaid, but Izuku answers it anyway.

“I like kids,” he whispers like it’s a secret, like he doesn’t keep every card and drawing that comes his way, like he isn’t the biggest sucker walking the planet. “And I… I trust the world enough to have them.”

Your skin prickles. He’s been here before, the psychic had said. He’ll know what he’s doing. He’s going to lead people. And—

Her mouth had pinched, spidery hands stilling on the cards—clubs, spades, hearts—in front of her.

And what? You had asked.

And he’s going to be your husband’s biggest heartache.)

In the end, it’s Izuku’s understanding that convinces you to give him the baby you were promised, so many years ago.

“I want to be with you,” he’d said, his fingers twining in yours, tight. “It doesn’t matter what we do, or don’t do. It’s you I’m choosing.”

You knew how much he wanted kids. It was in the way his face would light up, when presented with the newborn of one of the Agency girls. His gentle hands, helping a child down from the ruins of a smouldering building. The way he believed in them being the future.

“I choose you, too.” You tell him in return, confident. “And—and… whatever—whoever—we bring into this world.”

(His brow had knitted, not understanding—leaving you standing there with your hands in his, eyebrows raised, waiting for him to get it.

When he does, his eyes widen—big and green. And hopeful, his face already tightening with the tears that came to him so easily—when he was happy, when he was angry. Whenever he was overwhelmed. “You want to—”

You lift his hand to your mouth, and kiss his scars. “Yeah,” you tell him. “I want to.”)

Your son’s entrance into this world is one of the worst things you’ve ever gone through—and one of the best.

Your labour lasts 30 hours; you don’t sleep at all during it. The baby comes out blue, too choked during his entrance to understand how important breathing is, his thin, bird-like shoulder almost dislocating, trying to pass through; you, in turn, almost die from the bleeding, caught only by a sharp-eyed doctor who saw the early warning signs, as the green lightning of Izuku’s Quirk crackled along his hands, helpless.

You will never do it again. To free your baby boy the doctors had to cut you, deeply, to your asshole; a episiotomy, widening the passage for him. Afterwards, much afterwards when you’re happy and drowsy and holding your tiny, perfect baby in your arms, the doctor that saved your life will tell you that incontinence was a common side-effort of the incision; that you wouldn’t be able to wear high heels again for a while, without putting tension on your stitches. That even trying to pee would be excruciating.

But it didn’t matter: you had everything in your hands, bundled up. Your angry-faced little son, ugly and alien, his tiny fists balled up against himself.

Izuku couldn’t stop his tears, wiping a trembling hand at his eyes every now and then, his lips against your hair, against the shoreline briny smell of your newborn’s head.

“We’re not doing this again,” he whispered. “I’m—this is enough. You’re enough.”

You rubbed your face against his shoulder, his tremors, and traced a delicate finger along the tiny pout of your son’s mouth.

“We’re enough,” you tell him.

In response, Izuku holds you tighter.

In retrospect, your son’s birth should’ve been the warning sign. He is so foreign. He has so much attitude, so much life. He is fearless and unruffled by his father’s fussing; from the moment he can look around him, alert, he wants to be apart of it all, reaching up to Izuku, reaching up to the friends that come and surround him, like immortal godparents. He toddles after them—at first in fat, clumsy infant steps, then more sure-footed, quick, picking up the frightening speed children came with. It makes Izuku worry, you know, especially in the early days, when the baby would throw angry screaming fits that dissolved into heartbreaking sobs, just because Izuku wouldn’t—couldn’t—take him to work with him.

“I think he’s going to be a Pro,” you tell your husband, playful. You’re teasing him—before your son was born, it was all Izuku wanted, a child that he could be there for, someone who he could fight together with. But now all your little boy had to do was drop to the floor too fast, bonk his head on the table leg at the wrong angle and Izuku would be there, brow furrowed, so worried that he couldn’t protect him from every hurt, no matter how big or how small. “He’s going to be just like his father, dashing off to save the world every day.”

“I don’t—” Izuku stops himself, almost guiltily, your baby boy sagging in his arms, asleep. “I just want him to be happy, to be safe.” Izuku whispered.

You smile, because you’ve heard this a thousand times before; your heart breaking every time. Izuku kept photos of everyone he lost—a small shrine of them, faces you never knew in person. Some older. Some far too young, too golden, too alive.

He’s going to be your husband’s biggest heartache.

“I know,” you say, soft. “I know you do.”

Izuku’s hand was big enough to span your baby’s head completely; cradling him, fingers soft in his downy curls. Protective. This was the only time your son would tolerate this touch, this hovering, and some part of you—the part that thinks of your psychic’s words—thinks the timer you two have with him is set much shorter than either of you realise.

Your answer to that is to simply not think about it.

It’s easy enough not to; taking care of a child and working at the same time wipes you out, gives you little time to work yourself up into the same morbid moods Izuku could frenzy himself into. You’re too concerned with making sure your stupid son doesn’t break his neck, stops tracking mud throughout the house, releases the cohort of tiny frogs he’s keeping under his bed, in one of his father’s shoeboxes. At three he’s already a menace, a whole other human of his own and you are reminded, daily, of what it means to give birth to someone—to bring another human being, whole and complete, into this world.

“Play Agencies with me!” you hear him shout from the backyard, one day. He’d turned four in the spring; it was now a lazy, balmy summer, and he was spending the golden days as wild as the beetles and bugs that flitted along the treeline.

You stick your head out the sliding door, frowning. “Talk nicer to your uncle Kiri, brat!” You call out.

In answer you hear Kirishima’s laughter; your son probably scowling, fearlessly, at your reprimand.

“Play Agencies PLEASE!” you hear him shout, even louder—for your benefit, obviously. Kiri must agree, however, and you can hear your boy marching around the yard, bellowing out, “Number! One! Heroes! Let’s roll out! Round and round and round we go!”

In comparison, it’s silent in the kitchen, and you sigh as Izuku steps back in from where he’d been watching them, on the patio.

“I’m sure I wasn’t that bad at his age,” you say, a joke—but you stop when you see your husband’s face, too soft. His eyes, too big—too shiny.

“You alright?” You ask, wondering if it had been a rougher week at work than you realised.

But Izuku shakes his head, shoulders jerking as your son’s song—his chant—continues on, from outside.

“It’s nothing,” he says. “He reminds me of… he… it’s nothing.”

You take his hand in yours, and too easily he pulls you to him. Your husband’s biggest heartache, the psychic had said. She did say you would need an imagination, with this life.

“I’m just—I’m just happy,” Izuku whispers, smiling through his tears.

It’s golden and bright and the cicadas are shrilling outside, the chorus underneath your child’s song, still being belted out, Kirishima catching on enough to join in. It’s a beautiful day—soon the others would arrive for lunch, the motley crew of heroes that had followed each other through school and warzones and the years, the sorrows that came with them, and the joys.

You breathe in the scent of Izuku’s shirt, his skin underneath it. “It’s okay,” you tell him, quietly. A secret between the two of you, in the small section of sunlight in your kitchen. “He’ll be here for a long while yet,” you promise him. This time is silent—but with the way your husband’s arms tighten around you, you think he heard it anyway.

[pxrplebxtterfly]

Did I Lie? (1/?)

gif belongs to me

18+

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x fem reader

Warnings: (d)ubcon, kidnapping, alcohol, SMUT, fingering without penetration or clit play?.

Summary: You've been kidnapped but aren't complaining when Lloyd takes you to a 'dinner party' and rewards you for being well behaved.

Word count: 2.2k

Notes: This fic was written in SECOND PERSON POV!!! Sorry this isn't as super freaky as I initially planned. I think I want this to become a little series so the kinkier stuff might come later (hope that's okay)! As always, thank you so much for reading!

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀

The knob on the extravagantly paneled door jiggles with force.

You jump at the noise. Someone on the other side is trying to get in. You walk backwards until your knees hit the end of the bed and the momentum makes you fall on your butt. The door opens at the exact same time.

It’s him. It’s that mother fucker who held a gun to your head and kidnapped you. You know exactly what he wants too.

You were the niece and only family of a prevalent mobster from your city. You don’t talk to your uncle much but you still keep in touch. You’re not surprised that his past is finally trying to catch up with him. It’s just a shame you have to be involved.

He shuts the door behind him. He looks at you, brilliant blue eyes examining your face. His tight fitting clothes showcase his intimidating stature and the size of him only makes you more nervous.

“Hi princess,” he says mockingly, “I’m afraid I wasn’t able to introduce myself earlier, I’m Lloyd Hansen”

“You mean when you kidnapped me?” you reply gruffly.

“If that’s what you want to call it” he smiles.

You don’t say anything more, even though you’re burning to. You just retract your legs from the ground into your chest, as you shift farther onto the bed.

“Don’t be afraid, I’m not gonna hurt you… yet” he says, walking towards you. 

You try to bite your tongue, but the fury in you spills out anyways. “Fuck you” you spit.

“Awe, now that’s no way to treat your host, is it? Cmon I mean look around,” he says and motions at the grandiose surroundings, “I haven’t even tied you up, though it’d be easy to”

You twitch at the thought of being restrained and look away from him.

While looking past him you realize he’s right. He could’ve had you chained to a radiator in a decrepit basement. Instead, the bed sheets are silk and the curtains, velvet. There’s gold ornaments and watercolor wallpaper. It is a spectacular room, and it sparks images of what the rest of this place must look like.

As if reading your mind he says, “You see, I could have chained you up in the basement with the rats but, then I’d have to actually go down there to talk to you.” Your eyes dart back to his. “So, I thought this would be better!” he says with satirical enthusiasm.

He changes the subject quickly, “Anyways, I’m gonna need you to accompany me to a dinner party tonight, so someone will drop off your dress and shoes soon”

“What? Why the hell would I go anywhere with you?” you snap at him. 

With a fake smile he steps forward until he’s towering over you. “Oh honey, if you want me to get the ropes out just say so,” he says in a playful tone, which might be scarier than a threatening voice. 

His mocking stare makes you shrink. You rub your wrist just thinking about the lack of autonomy and rope burn. He knows you’re powerless and it only feeds his ego. 

“Now, be a good girl for me tonight and you might get a reward!” He gives a phony smile and leaves.

What you didn’t know was that Lloyd wasn’t planning on hurting you at all. Instead, he was looking forward to using you as his cumdump for the rest of his life. The way your eyes glistened as he threatened you made his dick hard. 

He wanted to fuck you stupid and then put you back together just to do it again and again.

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀

After some time passed and the sun had set, you were delivered a sleek, elegant, black dress and a pair of matching black heels. You’re stunned at how gorgeous the dress is.

As much as you don’t want to satisfy Lloyd’s expectations, you also don’t want to be chained up. So you make the obvious choice and put the dress and heels on. 

After adjusting the dress to fit perfectly, there’s a knock on the door.

“Yea?” you ask, defensively, the knock startling you.

There is no answer, the door just opens. 

Lloyd stops halfway in the door when he sees you. His breathing halts at the sight of your body in the dress. Every curve is on full display in the thin material. He pushes through his initial reaction and walks towards you. 

“So where are we going?” you ask timidly. You’re afraid to speak at all but feel like you should try to make the most out of this situation.

He hums, nodding his head enjoying your fake positive attitude. “Well, you’ll see when we get there”

He ushers you towards the door and follows beside you down the hall. 

The two of you and his team of security pile into three different cars and caravan out into the night.

When you arrive and step out of the car, you’re in front of a huge skyscraper building. Light from the building and the others around it illuminate your face in a bright glow. 

Lloyd pushes up against your back and whispers into your ear, “You’re going to hook your arm around mine and follow me in. You’re going to stay silent the whole night and if you try talking to anyone or say anything, I will not hesitate to do something I’d prefer not to do. Do you understand?”

You tense at his threat but breathe out a shaken “Yes.”

He moves to stand beside you and you hook your arm around his. He smiles down at you pleased and walks you in.

While riding in the elevator, you can’t help but think about his body pressed against you. The way your ass and back pushed up against his thighs and chest. How he had to speak down into your ear. You know you shouldn’t think like this, for God’s sake he kidnapped you.

Up 30 or so flights to the roof, you find Lloyd and yourself in a large lounge with dim lights and loud R&B music. It looked more like a club with the crowds of people and drinks. 

“I thought you said we were going to a dinner party,” you whisper.

“I thought I told you to be quiet,” he whispers back.

You shouldn’t find him charming but his wit and charisma catch you off guard. You let him lead you through the crowds of people towards a sectioned off booth in the back. There are many men sitting around this table, all with girls on their hips. You begin to understand that you are an accessory for Lloyd tonight and you won’t play any other part but that.

In all honesty you don’t mind that much. You’re served champagne as you sit down next to him in the horseshoe booth. 

As soon as the both of you sit, you begin to drink. Not quickly but it’s really the only thing to do. Lloyd is talking to these other men about weaponry, ammunition, and drugs, and you could care less. None of it was appealing to you anyway.

At some point during the discussion you feel a warm hand land just above your knee. Your dress has a slit in it so most of your right leg is exposed. It’s Lloyd’s big, calloused hand that is touching you.

Your body floods with adrenaline and images of a fantasy flash before you. You stare at him but he doesn’t even look at you. He’s just smiling and nodding, continuing his negotiation.

Lloyd does notice you looking at him though. He notices that, and your subtle rock forward on your hips. Because of this, he moves his hand further up your thigh. With each inch, electricity crackles through your veins. 

All you want is for his hand to keep moving further up your thigh until he’s forced to confront the problem he’s created. And as if he can read your mind, his hand slowly, agonizingly, travels up your leg.

Each centimeter closer to your core starts a fire under your skin. Finally his hand comes to a stop; as close as he can be to your pussy without actually touching it. You look up at him and he’s grinning, laughing with the other men about something. 

Does he even realize what he’s doing to you? Your hips are practically bucking up at his touch.

A minute goes by, and you still haven’t fully adjusted to his hand so close to your desperate cunt. He doesn’t seem to notice though.

Without warning he sticks out his pinky and slowly drags it from your hole to your clit, over your g-string. 

He does this up and down motion a few times with his ring-clad pinky, until he finally looks at your face and sees the red in your cheeks and dizziness in your eyes. He loves how good you’re being. How silent you are even though he’s teasing you. How you don’t even lean over to whisper anything to him. 

With the confirmation of pleasure on your face, he slips his hand back down to your lower thigh. 

It’s unfair what he’s doing to you. You’re sure that everyone has just seen what happened even though the large table you’re sitting at covers the view of your legs.

The rest of the night is a blur. You’re a little stoned and pretty tipsy from the never ending drinks when you and Lloyd are together in the backseat of his limo. The substances are really soaking into your bloodstream, making you feel all hot and flustered. Lloyd’s aware of this because of the way you’re slightly leaning into him. 

It’s really not your fault, you’re intoxicated, sitting next to this huge, ripped, beast of a man who’s cologne is expensive and suffocating. You’re about to pinch yourself for your terrible thoughts when he leans down to your ear and says, “You were a very good girl tonight; I’m surprised at how well you listened”

His mustache almost tickles your ear and the feel of his breath is enough to make you spiral into a frenzy of desperation. His dominant hand snakes it’s way to your thigh once again and you shudder as he turns his body towards you. 

You look up at him distraught and his eyes are almost glowing. He’s so obsessed with the defeated look on your face, oozing desire. He rubs soft circles into your skin and that alone causes you to shift your weight forwards onto your hips. Lloyd watches at your pitiful attempt at relief. 

“Do you need me to touch you?” he asks in an infantilizing tone.

“Yes, please,” you mutter. 

And with that, things begin to happen very quickly. He hikes up your dress and rips the flimsy underwear off. 

“You know, I could feel how wet you were when I ran my finger over your pretty pussy earlier. It’s so pathetic how worked up you got from my hand on your thigh” he breathes into your neck. You don’t say anything at all because his fingers are running through your folds, playing with your heat. 

“Did I lie?” he whispers and lifts his fingers to show you how they glisten in the gaps of light from the passing street lamps. 

You shake your head no and he attaches his fingers to your clit. He rubs with the perfect amount of pressure, making you bite your lip. His thick fingers circling your delicate clit.

Lloyd begins to kiss your neck, sucking and nipping at your soft skin. He swirls his tongue on your neck, in time with his fingers, and you melt into the leather seats.

His left arm has snaked around your lower back and waist, holding you close to him, and keeping you steady. You rock your hips up into his fingers, increasing the pressure in short intervals. 

“Such a slut, trying to help herself get off,” he mumbles

You moan, unable to form any words. The way his lips move along your neck and the way his fingers send waves of warmth through you, have you close to coming undone. 

He doesn’t slow down and you’re having a hard time keeping yourself together. His fingers begin to flick side to side hitting that perfect spot.

“God, don’t stop, please don’t stop” you squeak.

You’re in ecstasy as Lloyd devours your neck and shoulders, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You arch your back and buck your hips into his motions. You whimper and pant as you’re so close to coming.

“Come on you dumb baby, cum for me” he groans into your neck, relentlessly rubbing you to euphoria.

You throw your head back and in a crash of pleasure and white light, you come. 

Your orgasm soars through your veins, making every inch of you erupt with bliss. You sail on this surf for what feels like a lifetime, but as soon as it’s over, you’re aching for it to happen again. 

His fingers slow but don’t stop until you’re shaking and clamping down on his wrist.

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you as you catch your breath. His mouth is slightly open, looking at you with pride and lust. 

“That—I can’t believe that just happened,” you whisper after a few moments of intense eye contact. 

“You better get used to it because I’m never letting you go,” he says.

You wonder if he’s serious, but a sparkle in his eyes soothes your worries. 

Tags: @slutforchrisjamalevans @snowaiden @markiezuckie

[jaywaslost]

A week away

----

Long story short I got bored and decided Finch and Hacker decided more content, so this was born

Ooooof course this includes some headcanons @asukamood and I have, in our defense theres barely any canon content of either of them. Anyways, enjoy what you're getting into :D

--

Sypnosis:

“You don’t just- get to do that! You don’t get to disappear for a week and not answer my questions when you come back Finch.”

The words hung heavy in the air, each sentence a weighted accusation that Finch felt like built up to a feeling of guilt that was growing with each second. He stood there, caught between the exhaustion and the emotional storm in Hacker’s eyes.

--

Creak

The door slid open, noise echoing through the otherwise silent room.

The man in the doorway looked around, but couldn’t see anything within the darkness of the house.

The hour was quite late, around 3:45 in the morning. Finch had just gotten back from a week-long mission, exhaustion written all over his features.

Putting his shoes away, he didn’t even bother taking his hat off before immediately collapsing on the couch. He shouldn’t be awake at this time, but some things can not be helped, this was one of those times.

It had been too long since he got to lay down and take a breather. It felt strange to do so after nonstop movement, but it was a welcome change of pace.

Heavens knew he needed it anyway.

He should probably eat, but his muscles were too sore to even think about getting up and grabbing something, let alone having to look around in the dark.

It was late, anyway. He may wake up Hacker with too much ruckus.

It’d been a while since he got to talk to Hacker..

His..fiance. 5 months earlier, the taller decided he wanted to take their relationship to the next level and took his chance when they were alone after an outing. It was clearly planned for a while, the ring picked perfectly to his size and liking.

It wasn’t all too flashy or big, but clearly not an ordinary run-of-the-mill one, perfect for his tastes.

He really knew what to look for.

It was meant to be a regular week for them earlier, but that was until lord Dream himself requested Finch’s presence urgently.

Neither of them knew the reason or how long he’d take, but it was expected to not be longer than maybe a few hours at most, a day if overkill.

But here he was now, back after a week.

One where he completely disappeared.

He didn’t check his phone during those few days, both lacking the ability and chance to.

He wonders if Hacker said anything about it..

It’s not the time to think about this, he should change.

Letting out a sigh from his lips, Finch sat back up, pausing momentarily to calm his head as it suddenly decided to make his life harder and feel like it was about to explode. Hacker would have loved to make jokes every time he said his head was pounding the last few days.

It felt oddly strange not to have someone laughing at every other word he said that could be misinterpreted.

He had gotten too used to the other’s presence, hadn’t he?

..no clue if that was good or not, but it wasn’t time to worry about that.

Finally mustering up the energy to get off the couch, he stood and decided to go to the closest bathroom in hopes of at least managing to wash his face before getting some much-needed rest. The last thing that mattered at that time was if the lights were on or not; Finch was very aware he looked like an absolute mess but didn’t have enough energy to care, not one bit and not at this hour.

The bathroom light flickered dimly as Finch entered, casting shadows all around him. The mirror reflected a face marked with exhaustion, dark circles beneath tired eyes. His hair was more messy than he’d usually leave it to be, uniform slightly wrinkled. As the water ran, he cupped his hands and splashed it on his face, the cool sensation felt refreshing even with the weariness that weighed him down.

Leaving the bathroom, he finally made his way to the room he and Hacker shared. The hallway felt longer than usual, each step echoing in the silence of the dimly lit apartment. Finch found himself leaning on the wall for support almost the entire time, his legs protesting the effort.

Leaning against the wall, Finch began to regret not just staying on the couch. The warmth emanating from the room felt inviting, but it was too late to go back now. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open, ready to face whatever awaited him on the other side.

The door creaked open, revealing the unlit room in all of its messy glory. It wasn’t a surprise to see some of his belongings lying around, it would be safe to assume the other got lonely and missed his presence. The cold air from the window hit him in the face immediately, causing him to shiver a little bit. It seemed like Hacker forgot to close it before going to sleep that night.

As his eyes adjusted to the room and its lighting once again, he noticed a figure sitting by the edge of the bed staring right at him. A rhythmic tapping sound echoed through the space, only stopping when their eyes met.

This should have been expected, Hacker has never been one for a normal sleep schedule and he wasn’t there to enforce one on him either. It probably spiraled out of control while he was gone.

The sound of the tapping wasn’t easy on the headache, but before Finch could get a word in, the other spoke up.

“Looks like you finally decided I was worth seeing again?” Hacker asked, words laced with spite.

Wonderful, this wasn’t going to be fun. The tapping had finally stopped, which was a relief at the very least.

”Hello to you too, Hacker," Finch managed, though the words escaped his lips in a monotone whisper. The energy required to sound out any warmth or emotion into his greeting seemed beyond his grasp at the moment, he was barely capable of processing what he heard and getting himself to say a thing at all. His initial dream of collapsing onto the bed and slipping into much-needed unconsciousness now felt like a distant fantasy, shattered by the tension that hung in the air.

The blond man, sensing Finch's mood, got off the bed and approached him cautiously. His tone shifted from stern to a more pressing concern.

"Where were you?"

Finch met Hacker's gaze with a wearied expression, his eyes heavy with fatigue. He then glanced back at the clock on their desk, a silent acknowledgment of the ungodly hour that had unfolded in the silence of their shared space. Neither of them should have still been awake at that time.

"Why are you awake? It’s 4 in the morning. That’s really not good for you, we ta-"

"I asked you a question, answer me," Hacker interrupted, his demanding tone hinting at the weight of whatever had transpired during the other’s absence. The room, illuminated only by the new soft glow of the desk lamp Hacker turned on moments ago (Finch doesn’t know how he missed that), felt suspended in a quiet tension, both men standing in the middle of a conversation that seemed to get them nowhere so far.

“Hacker-”

“I’ve waited for days wondering where you were. You didn’t respond to a single text. I'd have preferred you left me on seen; I’d have at least known you were ALIVE-”

“Can we please leave this for the morning? You need to rest. I c-”

“You don’t just- get to do that! You don’t get to disappear for a week and not answer my questions when you come back Finch.”

The words hung heavy in the air, each sentence a weighted accusation that Finch felt like built up to a feeling of guilt that was growing with each second. He stood there, caught between the exhaustion and the emotional storm in Hacker’s eyes.

At this point, Hacker's frustration seemed to overcome the concern he felt. Was it that? Had they merged? Finch couldn’t tell.

He had never found himself feeling so conflicted over anything. The walls seemed to close in, the silence amplifying the gravity of the situation. It felt slightly difficult to breathe, why had he not thought of this? Finch’s shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, searching for words that could at least break some of the silence between them. Yet, the weight of the unspoken lingered, his tongue feeling heavy.

Hacker's frustration began to morph into a deeper worry as he took in the sight of Finch. The lines of exhaustion etched on Finch's face spoke volumes, and beneath the weariness, Hacker caught a glimpse of something else – vulnerability. That was enough to shake whatever he had built up, any anger that might have felt at that moment fading away.

The other never showed vulnerability. He was raised a soldier and never grew out of that, never allowing himself a moment of fragility or one second of relaxation either.

"Finch," Hacker's voice softened, concern (or perhaps regret?) replacing the anger that had fueled his previous words. He took a step closer, his eyes searching Finch's for some explanation that could quell the rising anxiety within him. The ‘flame’ was smaller than usual, from what he could see it was a light blue instead of the usual yellow or white.

"I get that you've had a tough week, but you can't just shut me out like this. What happened?"

Finch hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting Hacker's eyes again. Every cell in his body had been screaming in protest to his movements, it took everything in him to stay standing the entire…20? minutes they had been arguing if it can be called that.

If he wanted it to end, Finch knew he had to at least say something to calm the other’s nerves.

"It's complicated," he began, voice still as blank as it was before, but now carrying a hint of desperation "I didn’t expect it to last this long, but it turned out the mission I was deployed on was given to us based on mostly false information. I had to figure out what to do on my own with that."

Hacker's expression shifted to a mix of empathy and frustration, it was more like childish annoyance in a sense. "Well then whoever gave that information should’ve been the one dealing with it, not you. I was alone for so long waiting for you to show up in what you said would’ve been 2 days, did they really not have anyone else to help or anything?” he complained.

Finch nodded. The room felt quieter, the tension slowly dissipating as the atmosphere got lighter. At the lack of another response,Hacker finally let Finch’s shoulder go and dragged him towards the bed, realizing how likely it was that he didn’t rest during that entire ordeal.

"We’ll be talking about it tomorrow, do you hear me?" Hacker stated firmly, Finch nodded. The room felt quieter, the tension slowly dissipating as the atmosphere lightened. At the lack of another response, Hacker finally let Finch’s shoulder go and gently guided him towards the bed, recognizing the likelihood that Finch hadn’t rested during that entire ordeal.

Finch, caught in the undertow of exhaustion, managed a low but affirmative murmur. The events of the past week, the stress he had been carrying, all felt a little more distant as He lowered himself onto the bed holding onto the other for some support. He was still fully clothed, staring at the ceiling. In any other situation, Hacker may have joked about that, Finch willing to lay down in his work clothes and risk them getting ruined, but it didn’t feel like the time to (that didn’t mean he wouldn’t in the morning, though).

Hacker lingered by the bedside for a moment before going to turn off the lamp he switched on moments ago. He didn’t hesitate to get into the bed next to his beloved right after, he earned the right to some cuddles at the very least after all of that, Finch should have heard all he told Blue during this absence! He was so miserable on his own.

Finch didn’t protest, if anything he pulled himself closer to the other’s embrace having not felt this safe in days. He didn’t know why it felt that way, not like Hacker was capable of fighting someone off if the house was for example broken into.

Regardless, it was nice. He didn’t mind it.

Shockingly, despite his fatigue, Hacker was the one who fell asleep first. Finch only realized it when he tried to turn to his side but got pulled closer instead.

He didn’t try again, letting the sleeping Hacker do as he wished. The other was a heavy sleeper, he didn’t have to worry that much about waking him.

“You worry too much for me” he muttered, a weight setting back in his chest.

“This is why I feared accepting your advances, it’ll be the death of you. I’m not worth all of that” he sighed, though a smile didn’t leave his face.

With that, he drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

[reverie-starlight]

*sneezes* so uh, I saw you were willing to write for girlies in the fandoms too…. also don’t worry about my stalking, worry about the weather-

N e ways…. May I ask for a morsel, a crumb, a sliver of some ururaka x gf because she’s underrated and I love her and I, too, would love a gf (if you want to supply o b v i, no pressure) 🥹🥹💍💍

YES. YES. YES. YES. Y E S.

ABSOLUTELY 1 MILLION TIMES YES IM SO EXCITED TO WRITE FOR HER OMFG. also congrats emmy for being the first official request for a female character on my blog I’m SO HAPPY!!

also??? you can stalk me WHENEVER you’d like. i’m so serious rn. i’m definitely guilty of stalking your blog as well, dw abt it

fem!reader, but no physical description is given!! fluffyyyy, prohero!uravity, nonpro!reader, non-sexual nudity (they take a bath together), one maybe two if you squint suggestive jokes, lots of love. todoroki and uraraka are besties bc I say so.

first time writing for a girl kinda nervous, so if it feels slightly stiff in the beginning or slightly ooc dw abt it (but i pulled up her character wiki so i think it should be okay <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY

let me compose myself I’m too excited rn, she would be the S W E E T E S T gf ever you’re turning me into a full fledged simp for her with this-

pro hero uravity who got all of her paperwork done for the day AND brought in some wannabe villains, even if it meant cutting her lunch break with pro-hero shoto a bit short. she tells her interns and sidekicks to call her if anything serious comes up, but since things seem to be going smoothly, she’d be going home an hour early.

she’s so excited to get home, regardless of whether or not you’d be there- both are good options to her because on one hand, you’d be there, ready and willing to cuddle on the couch. on the other hand, if you weren’t there, it’d give her an opportunity to cook something nice for the two of you- she’d been wanting to try this one recipe for a while now.

opening the door to her condo, she took note of your shoes being absent from the front hall. you weren’t back from work yet. 

she wishes she could take care of more things around the house on a regular basis, it wasn’t in her nature to sit idly by when things needed to be done, but with her hours being so unstable most of the time, it meant leaving it to you more often than not. so when she had time to do something nice for you, like cook dinner, she took full advantage of it.

she just wanted to take care of you, someone who has stood by her since pretty much the beginning of her hero career. you always did such an amazing job at caring for her after her shifts, all she wanted was to return the favour. she had always had the motivation to spoil you, but now she had the means as well. 

after changing out of her hero attire, she headed straight for the kitchen and got out the recipe on her phone. soon enough, she was fully absorbed in what she was doing. so much so that she didn’t even hear the door open 20 minutes later.

“well this is a nice surprise,” you snuck an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek, causing her to squeak and almost drop the pan she was holding.

“baby, you’re home! I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner, did you call for me?”

you shook your head and smiled at her. “saw your shoes by the door and wanted to scare you.”

she huffed out a laugh. “you menace.”

giggling, you stole a slice of the pepper she had been cutting up. “you love me for it.”

uraraka gasped. “and a thief! I should take you in for that, you know.”

“hmm, you wouldn’t dare, I make things interesting for you.”

“yeah, yeah, just don’t steal any more ingredients please, I’d like to have enough left for our ultra-romantic, super tasty meal later.”

your eyes lit up as if you just remembered something. “oh yeah! what are we making anyway?” 

“we are not making anything, you always handle dinner, let me do it this time. and I’m following that recipe I told you about a couple weeks ago.”

she put the peppers in the pan and turned the heat on low before turning to face you again. giving you a once over, she frowned slightly at how worn you looked, even behind your faux-peppy mask. “how was your day, baby?”

you shrugged. “not the best, kind of rough but nothing I can’t deal with.”

uraraka made a disapproving sound but let it be. you weren’t in need of a lecture about how much you could deal with on your own, she could tell you just needed to be taken care of. 

she pushed herself up onto the counter and held her arms open. you gladly took her invitation and nuzzled into her chest. “how was your day, ochaco?” 

“it was good, thank you for asking. things were running smoothly today so I figured I’d come home early. I’m glad I did, I get to make you feel better now.”

she felt you smile into her skin. “I’m glad you had a good day, my love.” 

“I’m sorry yours was shitty. anything I can do to make it better?”

you hummed. “just having you here is already making it better... but if you’re offering...” you looked up at her and she immediately identified the look in your eyes as mischievous. 

“what is it, my love?”

“maybe while you’re cooking our ultra-romantic meal, I could run us an ultra-romantic bath to relax in after we eat?” you were playfully running your nose up and down her neck as you spoke and she squealed a bit at the tingly sensation. 

“I like that idea a lot,” she giggled. “go get changed into something comfy, I’ll let you know when dinner is almost done so you can start the bath.”

she took your face in her hands and peppered kisses to your squished cheeks before sending you on your way.

an hour later, stuffed with food and dishes done, you were both sat in the bath together, basking in each other’s company. times likes these, when you were cuddled up close and whispering sweet nothings to each other, always made her reminiscent of a time when you hadn’t even started dating yet. 

you were both fresh out of high school, her just starting pro-hero work and you starting your own life, but you clicked so easily, it would have been criminal to not give it a shot. 

it was cute for her friends to see at first, when you happened to see her off duty in a small café with some of her old classmates. you were both stumbling over words- over each other, as she tried to get out of your way to accommodate what direction you wanted to go in.

but they soon grew tired of her pining for a girl who so obviously reciprocated her feelings. so an intervention was held.

“uraraka, I can see that this girl likes you, too. you’re just scared of making a move. don’t be.” said shoto.

“yeah, ochaco, if todoroki of all people can see that y/n likes you, then you know it’s true. you need to make a move!” prompted mina. 

“what’s that supposed to mean, ashido?”

and she was so incredibly glad she did. 

months into the relationship, the shyness finally went away and you quickly realized neither of you had ever felt more at home with another person. that’s not to say you two never got flustered anymore though. any bit of flirting from one of you could render the other speechless and panicked to no end.

for example, how uraraka could feel how warm her cheeks were. it was better now that you were submerged in the water with her, your back leaning against her front, but she was still calming down from before that. 

and of course you just had to tease her. 

“pretty girl, what’s the matter? you’re all red from that? you know we’ve had-”

your girlfriend hid her face in the crook of your neck and secured her arms around your waist. she whined. “stooooppp!”

you laughed and carded a damp hand through her hair. “I’m very sorry, sweetheart, I’m just teasing. you know I love it when you get like this.”

yeah, she smiled slightly into your skin, a new determination to fluster you back arising. I know exactly what you mean.

she raised her head from it’s hiding place and relished in the look on your face when you turned your head to the side and saw a familiar expression. 

she maintained eye contact and brought a hand up to brush her knuckles against your cheek so gently, her other hand still on your wait, thumb caressing your skin. “it’s okay, but... with the day you’ve had, I wonder if you’ll let me... take care... of you for the rest of the night, my pretty girl?” a kiss was placed behind your ear and you squeaked.

uraraka let out a loud laugh as you took in a deep, but very shaky, breath and promptly face-planted into the water. 

she loved you so much and absolutely nothing could ever change that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

kind of a crap ending BUT. I DIDN’T WANT TO MAKE IT TOO LONG. IT WOULD HAVE WENT IN A TOTALLY DIFFERENT DIRECTION IF I CONTINUED. SHHH.

but anyway, I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT!!! TY FOR REQUESTING, AND P L E A S E GO CHECK OUT EMMY, THE WRITING ON THAT BLOG IS TOP TIER. and I am so lucky that this fic got partially deleted when everything was still fresh in my mind BC. I WOULD HAVE CRIED IF I HAD ANOTHER KAGAMI TAIGA  INCIDENT. do you all remember how upset I was that day? that was heartbreaking and I still have not returned to it. it’s still in my drafts bc tumblr decided to be a bitch that day </3

[herofics]

Hi!

I’m hiding behind anon lol but yeah. I just wanted to say that I love your writing and was wo dering if you could maybe, if you want to, do a self harming post with dabi and/or hawks? Or kiri or sum. I’m not too picky lol

I’ve been really struggling lately and just need some comfort lol

It could be that they caught me(?) in the act or afterwards or even before.

I have loads of scars all over myself (very visible and big) and it’d seriously make my day if you included that for some reason haha.

Anyways, sorry for bothering you and hope you have a great day! 🤍🫶🏼🤍

🪼

Thank you for liking my writing, it means a lot to me. I’ve got this post, and this post for Dabi with an s/o who is dealing with self harm urges, but I surprisingly don’t have anything for Hawks with a self harming reader. I hope you feel better and that maybe this can help even a little bit. I started doing one for Dabi too, but I couldn’t come up with anything that I was happy with, so it’s just Hawks this time around

It’s not like he didn’t know, it was more that he didn’t want to connect the dots he was so clearly seeing. He didn’t want to think you could be doing that to yourself, but he couldn’t really deny it anymore.

He found blood stained tissues in the trash bin when he came over to your place one evening, but the first time he figured you’d just had a nose bleed. He asked you about it and you confirmed his suspicions. Now he knew that it had been a lie.

You hadn’t expected Hawks to come over, so you hadn’t really covered your tracks well. So when he asked you if you’d had a nose bleed, you just told him yes. You and Hawks had started dating a bit over a month ago, and you were taking things slow, so he had not seen your scars. You always made sure to wear long sleeves and pants, because you were terrified of people seeing your scars and cuts.

You were feeling like absolute shit. Nothing was going like you wanted it to and you felt like your life was spinning out of control once again. You were slipping back into those bad habits again, but you didn’t care, you just wanted some relief. You knew it wouldn’t last long, but at least it would be a few seconds of peace.

You took off your hoodie and pulled down the collar of your tank top. You pressed the blade to your chest and drew it across your skin a few centimeters. You exhaled deeply as you looked at the droplets of blood forming on the cut.

There it was, those few fleeting seconds of quiet in your head, and then it was gone. It never lasted, but the guilt always did. It didn’t come right away, it might even take a few hours before it hit you, but it always did. That never changed.

You’d basically covered your chest in cuts of different severity. There were old scars too, light and dark, big and small.

You cleaned yourself up and put your hoodie back on. It stung a bit when the fabric moved against your skin, but it wasn’t anything you weren’t used to.

You were sitting on the couch, stewing in that familiar guilty feeling, when your doorbell rang.

You went to check the peephole, and gulped as you saw Hawks standing there.

“Why now?” you muttered as you leaned your forehead against the door.

You took a deep breath and opened the door, greeting Hawks with: “Hi, I wasn’t expecting you tonight”

“Yeah, sorry, I just wanted to stop by” he said as you stepped aside to let him into the apartment.

“Something bothering you?” you asked as he pulled the door shut.

“Well… kind of? I guess” he shrugged, kicking his shoes off.

This was peculiar behavior from him. He wasn’t one to usually beat around the bush so much.

“You can tell me if there’s something wrong, I’m here to listen” you said.

Hawks followed you to the living room and you sat down on the couch. He didn’t know if he should bring it up. He wasn’t sure if you would get offended if he was wrong, or how defensive you would get if he was right. He had to know for sure though. He just wanted to help you.

Before he even realized, he asked: “Have you been cutting yourself?”

You were so shocked by his sudden question that you just froze. Hawks was looking at you with such a sad expression, and you knew he knew. Your reaction had given it away. If he wasn’t sure before he certainly was now.

You stayed quiet and just slowly started taking off your hoodie. You pulled it over your head and could hear Hawks audibly gasp as you revealed your arms and upper chest.

You were covered in scars, a lot of big and visible ones and even more small and light ones.

You just sat there with your hoodie on your lap, as you let him look at you. You couldn’t meet his eyes, but you knew he was looking you over. You were trying so hard to keep yourself from crying, and you were succeeding so far.

“Oh dove” he whispered.

“I understand if you don’t want to keep seeing me after seeing this” you said quietly, looking down and gesturing at yourself.

Hawks didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to stop seeing you and he wanted to tell you that, but he also didn’t want to say anything that might make you feel like he was patronizing you.

“I don’t want to stop seeing you. I know I can’t promise I’ll be able to help you, but I’d like to be here for you” he said.

You raised your head to look him in the eyes. He was looking at you with such a serious and soft expression you couldn’t help but start crying. The tears started rolling down your cheeks as Hawks pulled you to his chest and embraced you while you held onto his shirt for dear life. He kissed the top of your head, telling you it was all going to be okay. That he was going to be there with you as long as you wanted him to. That he was never going to leave and that you were kind and a wonderful person, and that wouldn’t change.

For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were accepted and loved. Not because he ignored your flaws, but because he loved you, the whole you. He didn’t mind your scars, he loved you all the same.

[fitgothgirl]

⬆️ Lovely sunset walk the other day, and the venue of a wedding I went to this past weekend

⬆️ My outfit for said wedding, and more pretty walk views. Not my favorite pic of me but didn’t get a better full body one and I loved my shoes 🥰🕸️🖤 (purchased them a while ago, hadn’t had a chance to wear them yet). The dress and belt were also new!

Hiiieeee I’m still alive. Been enjoying some time away from social media again. Most times I get the compulsion to click on tumblr or Reddit or something, I just click Solitaire or Wordscapes instead. And times when I have clicked on social media have been fairly short sessions before I remember why I stay away.

Of course I do always miss tumblr peeps... 🖤 That’s always the biggest downside of these breaks.

Went to the gym the day before yesterday for yet another “kicking out the cobwebs” session. Last workout was 4/2, and before that my last one was 3/22, etc... Bit of a pattern haha. But I’m already planning to get back today! I don’t want to keep doing this once-every-1-to-3-weeks thing. It’s better than nothing of course but I want to be doing at least twice a week... Ideally 3 times a week, but I’ll take fewer days first while just getting some friggin consistency down.

Therapy is going well, I wish I could see her more than every other week but it’s okay as it is for now. I’m still trying to get my official ADHD diagnosis and am in the process of switching psychiatrists at the service I use. But in the meantime my therapist sent me a couple links to sites for ADHD assessment that she’s pretty sure the psychiatrist will refer me to anyway (therapist and psychiatrist are from the same telehealth service). I tried one and it let me know it’d be a 60-90 minute process that I’d do on my own and then someone would reach out to me to schedule an appointment for me to talk to a doctor. The very first thing of this assessment was a page that just said “In your own words, please tell us more about why you are here, and your long term goals” and it had a blank area for me to type with no character limit... I was like ohhhohohooo wow... Where to begin... They’re going to get an essay from me. But it also just triggered some major overwhelm-shutdown too. The irony of it is great. I’ll need to get in the zone to tackle this, but it did warn me it’d be up to 90 minutes; we’ll see if I even stay within that lol.

Otherwise with therapy, I’ve been good about doing my “homework.” I keep a little post-it on my desk’s hutch near my monitor so I see a bullet point list of the key things for me to remember until the next appointment. Those are my priorities and anything else is just bonus. Some things don’t get done but that’s to be expected - she says if I always did 100% in everything then she’d ask if I was really being honest lmao. But no self-deprecation or guilt allowed!

Weather has been beautiful and I’ve been spending time outside, either in the backyard or going for walks. One thing my therapist brought up with me when I was talking about wanting to get 10,000 steps a day since it’s so good for so many things, was that it’s a little unrealistic to expect myself to suddenly do something every single day when I’m hardly ever doing it to begin with. My Fitbit makes me want to hit daily goals but what other habit changes would I expect to suddenly do daily? Most of the time we try to do new things once or twice a week or whatever. Kind of was like an aha moment for me and helped lessen the guilt of how much I struggle to get that done. So now my daily step goal is 5,000, which is still a little more than I’d get just sitting around all day, so that’s a good goal. And for 10,000 steps, for now I’m aiming to hit that once a week. I’ve dedicated Tuesdays for that. And if I get it more days than that, then great! And I’ve actually gotten 10,000 steps on 5 out of the last 10 days... 😳 Plus another day of 9,000. Funny how that works lol.

We had a slender salamander in our backyard 😭 Look at him legs do steppies!!!! 🥺🥺 Also peep my bf helping take off the thing stuck to him lol. We’re in a moderately dense suburb-ish area so we don’t get much besides some birds and the usual stuff. Wonder where he came from and where he went…

I could probably keep going, but I’ll end this essay here for now lol.

[screpa]

Levi was fine

Summary: You finally told Levi and Hange of your new relationship with Bertolt. Levi knew that you were more than just a dear friend to him. But he was fine with you being with someone else. Was he?

Notes: (1) This piece was difficult for me to write (T^T) I almost cried a couple of times, as I put myself in Levi’s shoes. I’ve experienced enough heartbreak to know the pain of losing the person I love to someone else. I didn’t want to put my beloved Levi in this situation, but that’s how life is. At times, we have to let go of someone we love and wish them happiness. But, as in Levi’s case, sometimes love needs a detour before arriving to its final destination ^^ (2) Maybe listen to Michael Jackson’s ’She’s out of my life’ when reading this if you want to elevate the gut-wrenching effect. (I guess now you know how I old I am considering the song choice ha-ha-ha. I know classics, okay, I may be old but not THAT old :-D)

Tags: SFW, sad, heartbreaking, lost love, gloomy

Read it here or on AO3, up to you ^^

You don’t really know why you kept postponing to tell your best friends, Levi and Hange, about your new relationship with Bertolt.

You knew it wasn’t because they’d judge you.

You were sure that they wouldn’t see the age and rank gap between you and Bert as problematic. Age was just a number and Bertolt was already the legal age to be intimate with you. As for rank, they knew you were too kind to take advantage of other people. It’d be more likely for Bert to take advantage of your naïveté, but you knew for sure both of them would have your back in the slim chance that would happen.

But you felt they wouldn’t be ecstatic with the news anyway.

Hange may be upset with the news. Your friendship with them couldn’t be considered as purely platonic. You enjoyed hugging, cuddling and giving them light peck kisses, which were normal between close friends.

They were your source of comfort, like a warm fluffy blanket in cold autumn nights.

That slightly changed during one of your pillow talks. Both of you almost crossed the line and realized of the mutual love you had for each other. With the line uncrossed, you maintained a close friendship, although sometimes you were both bothered and gutted by the missed opportunity toward happiness together.

So, you were dispirited by the fact that you were going to break their heart.

As for Levi…

You didn’t really know why you thought he’d be upset with the news. For all you knew, you had a one-sided love toward him. He only saw you as his dear friend and a soldier under his care.

Maybe he’d be upset because he didn’t like change. Maybe he didn’t want you to divert your time for training or for helping him with paperwork to spend time with Bertolt. Or, maybe he just didn’t want to share one of the few people he trusted to someone else.

Whatever it was, you knew he’d be bitter about it.

You decided to just tell them the news quickly like taking off a bandaid. Just blurt it out then leave. Everything would be back to normal the next day. You were sure of it.

Tonight was the perfect opportunity. The three of you were hanging out at Levi’s office to discuss about Hange’s plan to capture a few titans for research. Erwin was still unmoving with the idea, so Hange was trying to get stubborn Levi on their side.

But you didn’t get to tell them because of their petty disagreements. They both had good points but they couldn’t meet in the middle. The argument was so heated that you had to be the middle woman to prevent them from saying things they’d regret later on.

After an hour of their bickering, you were too emotionally drained to say anything to them.

Noticing your dispirited body slumped on the sofa, Hange softened and decided to throw in the towel for the time being. The discussion could continue another day, they thought.

‘Hey, Y/N, tomorrow’s our day off. How about the three of us have tea and sweets together in town in the afternoon? Just to relax for a bit. How about that?’ Hange asked you cheerfully.

At the mention of tea, Levi’s ears perked up and his mood was lifted. He nodded while maintaining his signature stoic expression.

This was the chance you had been waiting for!

With true regret in your voice you told them, ‘That’d be nice, but I have a date tomorrow’.

Both of them stared at you. Levi with his unchanged stoic expression, Hange with clear surprise on their face.

After a minute of silence had passed, Hange asked you in a whisper, ‘A date? With who?’

You took a deep breath and said, ‘Bertolt. We’re together now’.

‘To– together? I thought it was just a date?’ Hange asked in disbelief. You could hear their voice starting to shake.

Tears started to fill your eyes as you realized that their heart was breaking because of you. You had to end this conversation. There was no need to drag it out, knowing that there’d only be more pain.

‘We’ve been together for a while now. So sorry that I didn’t tell both of you earlier. I wanted to, but, just, didn’t know how’.

‘So… It’s serious?’ Hange sounded so miserable.

You felt tears spilling out of your eyes.

‘Yes. I love him’.

You cried not because you felt it was wrong to love Bertolt, yet it was still painful for you to tell them the truth.

Hange looked up to the ceiling, trying to keep their tears from spilling down.

After a while, they took in a deep breath and exhaled long and slow. They turned their face to you, showing you their warm, supportive smile.

They told you cheerfully, ‘I’m happy for you and Bertolt! I genuinely wish you and him nothing but happiness. Let’s have a drink tomorrow night to celebrate, okay? I know where Mobilt kept his homemade rice wine’.

You smiled at them, grateful of their support. ‘I’d love that,’ you sincerely told them.

Then you turned your gaze to Levi. He still had the same stoic expression.

After a minute or two of him staring at you in silence, you stood up to take your leave. You accepted that he wouldn’t say anything. He wasn’t too big with congratulations, so there was no point waiting.

‘We’ll have the tea and sweets next time okay? Don’t have too much fun without me you two’. You tried to sound cheerful although you knew that you sounded so superficial.

Hange wished you good night and you quickly went out of the room.

You ran toward your dorm room.

You knew you’d spend the night crying for your two lost loves.

—

When Y/N closed the door behind her, Levi heard the sound of her running footsteps. The sound echoed in his head. Tap. Tap. Tap. There was nothing in his head other than the gradually fading sound of her footst–

SMACK!

A hard slap on the back of his head jolted him away from his melancholic thoughts.

He rubbed the back of his head and turned his face toward the perpetrator.

He was going to yell at them, but he saw Hange’s angry, tear stained face and kept his silence.

Suddenly Hange kicked the coffee table in front of them so hard that it flipped. They then stood and went toward his office table. They flung everything that was on top of the table across the room. They then let out a long angry growl.

Levi just stared, not knowing how to comfort his friend.

Hange spoke between clenched teeth without looking at him, ‘Remember this. The emptiness you're feeling right now. It was NOT acceptance. It was utter regret’.

Levi could taste the venom from the Hange’s ‘utter regret’.

With that, Hange left him.

He stood up to put the coffee table in its place. The part that Hange kicked was now dented with wood splinters covering the chipped part. He had to wipe and fix that later, he thought. Maybe sand it a bit to get all the splinters out. Wouldn’t want anyone to get an annoying splinter stuck on their clothes or, worse, on their skin.

He went to pick up all of the papers, books and pencils on the floor and placed them tidily on the table. He had to rearrange the papers, he thought. If he delayed it for tomorrow, some important papers could slip somewhere. He had to do it before bed tonight.

But first, he had to clean up the shattered ink bottle. It’d take a while to lift the stain from the floor. That one couldn’t wait. He wouldn’t want an ugly stain on the floor. Better get going to get the cleaning equipment…

It was way past midnight when his office was as neat as before Hange’s outburst. He sat on his office chair and looked out the window. He stared at the darkness outside.

Now he had to confront his thoughts and feelings, which were muted when he was busy tidying up.

Utter regret. Was that what he was feeling at the moment?

What was Y/N to him?

She was a dear friend, indeed. Ever since she gave him the portraits of Isabel and Furlan, Levi had accepted her as his friend, just as he had accepted Erwin and Hange. His friendship with the three of them were built on the solid foundation of trust and compassion.

But he noticed that there was something different, something more with Y/N, compared to his friendship with Erwin and Hange. 

He was somehow drawn to her. Levi appreciated her beauty, but that wasn’t the reason he always discreetly searched for her whenever he entered a room. There were a lot of beautiful women and men in the Regiment, but none was half as charming as Y/N.

Maybe the fact that she knew how to act around him helped. She was never intimidated by him or expected him to act like other people. She let him take his own pace in the relationship while she stayed true to her kind and caring nature.

Oh, she could annoy the heck out of him with her lax attitude toward training and sloppiness during expeditions. Not to mention her vulgarity and foolishness whenever she was with Hange. She could also be rude and mocking toward him. She knew just the right ways to irk him.

But he enjoyed being annoyed at her as it meant he had her by his side.

Even during the most irritating moments, Y/N always soothed him.

He couldn’t remember when he started to place himself beside her whenever they were in the same room. It wasn’t easy since she was friendly with a lot of people in the Regiment. Sometimes he found himself sulking when she was surrounded by people. He couldn’t insert himself in between the others without accidentally touching them. Then he had to settle with gazing at her and listening to her sing-song voice from afar.

He didn’t know what she meant to him until Erwin put it to him straight and simple.

It was after a morning meeting with the Captains and Scout Leaders. Levi was watching Y/N going out of the meeting room with the others.

Erwin, who was still sitting beside him, whispered, 'Stop gazing and tell her’.

He turned to Erwin and saw that he was also looking at Y/N.

‘Tell her what?’

‘That you love her’.

Ah, that was what it was.

Love.

But he never got around to say it. He didn’t know how. The three words were always at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t make them escape from his mouth.

So, he decided to show his love through his actions. Believing, to his undoing, that she’d feel it. He kept her close by spending as much time with her as possible. He made her think that he needed her help with paperwork when he could do them quicker himself.

He trained her hard to ensure that she could fend for herself. Even though he could feel the hate in her eyes during every training. He thought, it’d be better for her to hate him for a while rather than having her injured or, worse, killed.

He thought that their relationship was solid. In his mind, they were already a partner, set for life.

Levi buried his head in his hands. You’re such an idiot, he screamed to himself, you lost her because you could't utter those three simple words.

He heard her running footsteps again. Tap. Tap. Tap. Away, and away she went. To a place he was no longer allowed to follow…

Nothing seemed to change between them the morning after. Y/N was already at the mess hall, at her usual spot. She was talking animatedly with Hange on her side. She greeted him like she always did. Hange threw a cold stare at him then quickly changed to their normal, goofy self.

Levi took some food and sat across Y/N and Hange as he normally did. He’d eat while listening to whatever weird discussion Y/N and Hange were having. He’d winced at their vulgar comments and grunted when they asked for his opinion.

Things didn’t have to change just because she belonged to someone else, he thought.

Y/N excused herself to get to her squad.

Levi then realized something trivial, but could’ve been a clear sign if only he noticed it sooner.

Y/N always left her breakfast milk carton unopened.

If there was something she didn’t like, she’d force him to eat it. You need more nourishment, she’d tell him. But she always kept the milk.

He always gazed at her, so he knew who she gave the milk to.

He sighed, appalled by his stupidity.

Y/N was kind and caring, but even she wouldn’t go out of her way for someone like that.

Like himself, it was the little things that mattered, that separated the special person from the rest of the crowd.

He saw Y/N gave the milk to Bertolt. It was just like any other mornings. She’d cheerfully give the milk cartoon to him and the pine tree would stutter. No. He no longer stuttered. Instead, he looked at her with such tenderness. He didn’t abruptly take it from her like he usually did, but placed his hand on hers. He left his hand there, rubbing his thumb on her skin.

Levi couldn’t watch anymore. He tried to focus on his food.

He didn’t want to watch her walk away, yet he did. Y/N and Bertolt walked side by side, barely touching. But Levi could see clearly the silent intimacy between the two of them.

The following days, weeks and months, Y/N treated him the same way. She was still her kind, rude, foolish, and vulgar self with him. She still helped him with paper work and obediently followed his training. He went back to the routine of discreetly searching for her whenever he entered a room and the deftly positioned himself beside her.

But he’d avoid all of the places where he caught a glimpse of her with Bertolt.

He spent more time monitoring Eren in the abandoned fortress, just so he could be away from the headquarters more.

Yet, he couldn’t be away too long from her, so he arranged a one-on-one training with her once a week. He knew she hated it, but this was the only time he could steal her away from her lover and the others.

He knew it was cowardly of him. But knowing how happy she was with the pine tree, he just had to deny his feelings.

It was enough that she still considered him as her dear friend.

It was enough to have a couple of hours in a week with her.

It was enough to know that she was happy.

As long as she was still alive, nothing else mattered.

Or so he kept telling himself…

--

This story is part the "Detours to Your Heart" series, comprises of stories of YOUR friendship and slow burn romance with Levi Ackerman. You build many interesting relationships with other AOT characters, such as ambiguous friendship/ romance with Hange Zoe, a whirlwind romance with Bertolt Hoover, sibling-like relationship with Jean Kirstein, and many more!

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ANCHORAGE TASK 02 / MIROIR DATABASE

content warning for mentions of death, murder and dismemberment (the latter is only discussed very briefly in reference to a ghost story)

I : THE LOVERS' MASK

A TALE CALLED THE MOON'S ANGUISH THAT HAS CIRCULATED ANCHORAGE FOR THE PAST SEVERAL DECADES HAS PROMPTED SOME YOUNG LOVERS TO EXCHANGE MASKS AS A PROMISE OF DEVOTION. WHAT DESIGN WOULD MUSE THEORETICALLY THINK FITS THEM ( LOOK BACK TO REVENGE OF KRAMPUS FOR REFERENCE, #ANCHORTASK01 ON OUR SERVER ) ?

Mio’s mask would definitely be something very bright and eye-catching. Pink and white with heart motifs. Maybe a generous helping of shimmer. I don’t think it’d be a full face mask. Maybe something just covering the eyes and the bridge of a nose, as though she’s a hero. A pink knight in shining armour.

SOME MIGHT CONSIDER THEM LEADING A DOUBLE LIFE IF THEY KNEW ABOUT …

I don’t think this one really applies to Mio! She’s a VERY honest person, arguably even to her own detriment. She wears her heart on her sleeve and tends to blabber so there’s really very little she’s able to keep secret. She does keep the more complex emotions to herself with most people but that hardly qualifies as a double life. The only thing I can really think of is that her parents and family don’t know that she’s a lesbian and, in some ways, jumping in and out of the closet like that makes her FEEL like she’s leading a double life but that’s about the extent of it. 

WHAT WOULD BE THEIR OWN DEAL BREAKER IN A RELATIONSHIP ? WOULD THEY DIE FOR LOVE OR KILL FOR MONEY ?

Cruelty. Nastiness. Being mean and unpleasant. And not just to her but to anyone. She would absolutely dump if they showed signs of being a bully or if they verbally assaulted a customer service or retail worker. If you yell at animals on the street, you’re OUT! Mio doesn’t need her partner to be outgoing or super friendly or whatever else but she does value kindness and respect above all other things.

THEY ONLY HAVE ENOUGH CHANGE FOR ONE CALL AT THE PHONEBOOTH, & SOMEONE WITH GLARING RED EYES & A SPATULA IS STANDING ACROSS THE STREET. WHO WILL THEY CALL ?

There was a point, I’m sure, where she would have called Ziv. If she had enough change for TWO calls, she’d definitely still phone them! But, now that Rei is back in the picture, that’s who she would call first. Whether or not Rei would be able to help isn’t what matters; if Mio is only able to talk to one more person before she’s killed, she’d like to be her sister. And if Rei CAN help? Even better!

II : THE ZEIGEIST OF THE '90S

THEIR FAVORITE SLASHER FILM IS ( IF APPLICABLE ) …

Mio does not like slasher films. She’s iffy on horror in general, because she’s easily frightened, but she can handle the tamer options as a fun Let’s Deliberately Scare Ourselves activity. Slashers, however, are totally out. She just doesn’t get the appeal at all. Two or so hours of people suffering and dying horribly for no reason? Not Mio’s idea of entertainment!

IN THEIR FREE TIME, THEY ENJOY GOING OUT AND …

Mio might be a professional dancer but she still spends quite a lot of her spare time dancing. She loves dance more than anything else in the world! If she’s having a quiet home day, she likes to read or watch TV while getting comfy on the couch with her cat, Cream. But she’s definitely not a homebody! Mio likes doing all sorts of things! Most common options are nights out with the girl gang or outings (mostly shopping, I guess) with Ziv. Maybe soon, she’ll start hanging around with Rei more too.

A FASHION FAD OF THE TIMES THEY ADORE THAT THEIR FRIENDS WOULD DESPISE IS …

I mean, if any of Mio’s friends openly shared that they despised any of her fashion choices, that would be MEAN and I DON’T respect it >:( but anyway, I could see Mio being really into a few specific trends. Big, chunky platform shoes for one, especially trainers/sneakers, and she’d probably give those spiky updos a good go! To be honest, she often sports a high pony while she’s dancing anyway so the extra styling for an extra bit of flair wouldn’t be a big difference. Her taste in fashion generally leans towards street style and, since she was born and raised in Tokyo, her tastes probably borrow a lot from Japanese trends of the era. Also, she definitely has one of those bedazzled phones with way too many phone charms. I think that one actually leans a little more early 2000s than 90s but the timeline here is weird so I’m letting her have it!

HOW OFTEN DO THEY ORDER DELIVERY FROM PEPPY'S PIZZERIA ? HAVE THEY EVER SEEN THE WALLS OOZE GREEN SLIME IN THE PIZZERIA OR THE ANIMATRONICS MOVE ON THEIR OWN DURING THEIR TIME IN ANCHORAGE ?

She might order every now and then but not really all that often! Mio likes food in general but she prefers fresher, more varied food and I don’t think she could stomach eating takeout pizza too often. Mio can’t bake for shit but she’s worked hard to become a pretty decent home cook so she does try to make her own food as often as she can. Being able to cook her own food also means she can make Japanese dishes and keep from getting homesick. She does really like some of Peppy’s desserts though. She hasn’t visited the actual pizzeria that often either so she hasn’t seen anything weird herself but she’s heard stories from the kids at the daycare, not that she necessarily takes it all that seriously. They are kids, after all.

WHEN THEY BELIEVED IN CHRISTMAS, WERE THEY TOLD KRAMPUS WOULD PAY THEM A VISIT FOR BEING ON THE NAUGHTY LIST ? ( WRITE N/A IF NOT APPLICABLE TO THEIR RELIGION OR LIFESTYLE )

N/A. (My understanding is that, in Japan, Santa typically only brings children one gift and I’m not entirely sure if that has anything to do with their behaviour or morality; I don’t think Krampus is a thing either! Mio would probably think the whole idea of a naughty list was unnecessarily cruel anyway.)

WHAT TALL TALE OR SUPERSTITION WERE THEY TOLD AS A CHILD THAT STILL GIVES THEM THE HEEBIE JEEBIES ?

There are two urban myths in particular that always used to really freak Mio out; Akaikami, Aoikami and Teke Teke. For reference, Akaikami, Aoikami (Red Paper, Blue Paper) concerns a spirit, named usually Aka Manto (Red Cloak), who haunts school bathrooms and ask cryptic questions that results in your violent death (usually severe blood loss or asphyxiation, without going into details) no matter what you answer while Teke Teke is a ghost who lacks the lower half of its body and drags itself along by its elbows, the sound of this being its namesake. The most famous version of this concerns a young girl who lost her lower half after being run over by a train and now hunts down her victims in order to cut them in half too. Obviously, she no longer believes these stories like she briefly did in childhood but the exact details of them still make her shudder a little.

III : THE CURSE OF THE SPIDER

ARE THERE FAMILY SECRETS OR SO-CALLED CURSES THAT HAUNT THEM ? ONES THAT ARE KNOWN PUBLICLY OR FOLLOW THEM FIGURATIVELY ?

Not really! I think, maybe, her parents are usually a little hush-hush with others outside the home about Rei and maybe there was a weird atmosphere amongst the other parents of ballerinas at first but, ultimately, they probably don’t know very much about Rei’s life after leaving home so it’s not even really their secret to keep. At most, Mio was briefly haunted by the sudden expectations her parents placed on her in Rei’s absence but it has been a while since she lived with her parents so it doesn’t really bother her.   

WHICH OF THE SEVEN SINS WOULD CORRUPT THEIR MORALS ?

Mio is definitely the type to stand by what she believes in no matter what so this is a pretty tough question. I guess wrath is the only one that would push to abandon her morals; there could feasibly be a scenario where Mio was so wronged that she would be upset and angry enough to do something she’d regret in order to exact revenge on someone else’s behalf but she would REALLY have to be pushed to her breaking point. She’s not a naturally angry person. Greed is also a possibility as she can be pretty materialistic but, again, it’s not to the point that she would sacrifice her own belief system or cause anyone else active harm.

THE WORLD REMAINS THE SAME FOR DECADES NOW. IS IGNORANCE BLISS ? OR IS THERE THE SHAKY SENSE SOMETHING IS AMISS THAT CAN'T BE IGNORED ?

I will not lie to you, Mio can be pretty oblivious. She also likes to look on the bright side as much as possible. Most of her life, she hasn’t been suspicious of much and her typical approach to anything strange was to brush it off as ‘well, that’s just how things are’. However, ever since she received that letter at Valentine’s, she’s been a little more cautious. If nothing else, she definitely thinks there’s something a little strange about Anchorage. After all, how could a regular stranger know those things about her?

DREAMS ARE OFTEN INFLUENCED BY THE SUBCONSCIOUS & SOMETIMES DISTORTED. IN THEIR DEEPEST, DARKEST NIGHTMARES, HOW DO THEY VIEW THEMSELVES ?

Helpless. Unable to help herself and, worse, unable to help anybody else. Like she’s trapped behind a wall and only able to watch in horror as terrible things unfold. This is a feeling not at all helped by her two near misses during the last two incidents in Anchorage; even in real life, she’s just too far out of reach to do anything of use. 

IV : THE CROOKED FRAME

WHAT IS THEIR DEATH WISH ? MIROIRS ONLY ( BASTARDS GANG INCLUDED ) : THE PERFECT CRIME WAS CONSTRUCTED & SOMEONE ELSE TOOK THEIR PLACE. HOW DID THEY ORIGINALLY DIE ?

Mio prefers not to think about death too much because it’s a little depressing but she doesn’t really have any hangups about it either and has largely accepted that chances are that she won’t have much say in how she dies, at least not until the moment comes. If she was forced to pick a way to die, I think she’d like to go out helping somebody else. If her death helped somebody else or even saved their life, I think she’d be happy with that.

MUSE COULDN'T BE THE ONE BEHIND THE TUNNEL OF LOVE OUTAGE BECAUSE WHEN THE POWER WENT OUT, THEY WERE …

At home! She’d been lucky enough to leave the carnival right before the ride broke down, just the same as how she’d left the New Year’s party right before the murders happened. Talk about good luck! (Sure, that would probably sound suspicious if it were anybody else but Mio’s not exactly the sort of person anybody’s pointing fingers at AND she feels incredibly guilty about all these narrow misses.)

WHAT WOULD THEY CONSIDER THEIR CALLING CARD ( I.E. WHAT SYMBOLS, PERSONAL MEMENTOS, ETC. DO THEY PERCEIVE AS REPRESENTATIVE OF THEMSELVES ) ?

A fistful of little pink paper hearts, scattered like confetti. (Hearts have always been, and always will be, one of Mio’s most recurring aesthetic motifs. Although, anything pink would do just fine as well.)

THOSE WITH INTERMEDIATE TECHNICAL SKILLS HAVE USED CRACKS & VPNS TO IMPROVE THE INTERNET CONNECTION, BUT ANYTHING POST-DATING THE 1990S IS ONLY ACCESSIBLE THROUGH THE DARK WEB. HAS MUSE EVER ACCESSED THE DARK WEB ? HAVE THEY USED IT FOR ANY NEFARIOUS MEANS OR TO PURCHASE SERVICES ?

Mio is really not that tech-savvy at all. She’s heard of the dark web but that’s the extent of it. Even if she did somehow gain access, I think she’d get freaked out and refuse to do anything with it because her lack of knowledge means she’s had plenty of room to make up her own wild stories about it all in her head.

[jodilin65]

FRIDAY, MAY 31, 2013 Tom got home late what with OT and having to stop at the mail place, so we decided to break the news to the Jes pest tomorrow. They’re not processing the application till next week anyway. It’s going to be a long and suspenseful weekend, wondering if we’ve got one foot in our new home, or if something up there is waiting with an evil grin, ready to have us delivered yet another blow and another setback. If worse comes to worst we don’t get in and we hire a realtor in the Auburn area to get us a place. Until and if things fall apart, we’re amazingly close to being on schedule with our plans. Rarely do our plans pan out the way we want them to, so this is a nice change.

My free Nicole polishes came today in pink, red and blue. They’re ok. I’ve come to be really picky with colors and I especially love glitter nail polish even though it’s a bitch to remove. Traditional reds just don’t excite me anymore, but the pink and blue are nice.

My 300 sticks of incense came today, too, LOL. I thought it was saying there were 4 left in stock, not that I was ordering packs of 4. I still have some patchouli and blackberry leftover, but now I’ve got strawberry, love, amber, honeysuckle, orchids, spice, herbs, dragon’s blood, espresso and honey vanilla.

Yesterday I noticed pain in my right shoulder, though I didn’t lift or do anything that should’ve caused an injury, and blurring in my right eye. Andy said blurriness can be caused by blood sugar fluctuations, but it’s only in one eye. My vision is poor anyway, and I have to wear glasses at all times. But when I closed my right eye, looking through my glasses, I could see my monitor clearly. When I closed the other eye it was significantly blurrier. I think I just got something in that eye, cuz later on when I blinked it felt like there was something sticky in it. Allergies and congestion can leave a film over the eyes, but I don’t think that’s it since it is just one eye and my allergies have been fine lately, thanks to Nasal Crom.

Later…

I couldn’t log into my LiveJournal account and had to reset the PW for that blog. The blog looks untampered with as far as I can see and it was probably just one of many glitches on LJ’s part, but if there’s any spam, threats, sensitive info or shit like that in there, don’t blame me! Do tell me about it, though, if you happen to notice anything fishy.

Thanks to all those who have offered to think happy thoughts and put out “positive vibes” as far as us getting the house we want. Again, I’m not sure it’d do us any more good than prayer would because it comes down to us meeting the park’s expectations and nothing more or less. We’re in the 35K - 50K income bracket, we’re at least 55 and 45, we’re legal US citizens, and so the only thing that might hinder us is the Klam scam. I’m afraid to get my hopes up yet can’t help but wonder if next week we’ll be told that we got our dream house, or if we’ll be delivered yet another blow. We’ll know soon!

The costs will be a little more than what they are here, and then after the loan is paid off it’ll be a little less. Well worth it since what we’d be getting is 3 times this size and nearly 20 years newer and built like any old standard American house.

I feel bad for some of my friends right now. It’s like the tables have turned and we’ve totally swapped shoes. Where I was once bitching so long about being broke and struggling and just being totally miserable overall, now others are struggling with money and health issues galore while we’re doing great. Having been there myself for so long, I totally sympathize with what they’re going through. Aly’s been one of my top online besties for years and damn I wish that girl could catch a break! It’s so unfair watching so many good people struggle while sick assholes seem to get it all.

THURSDAY, MAY 30, 2013 Tom thinks the Jes pest may be on to us already considering the fact that we received mail from a mortgage company here at this address. The company required a physical address as well as the UPS Store box. Tom is still going to officially break the news of what’s going on sometime today and will let him know that we won’t get a yes or a no from the park till next week, but we do have a house and loan in place and ready to go.

Tom said Brenda seemed positive, and after they went on and on about how young I look (in my passport pic), she said she’d give them a call next Monday to see how things are coming along.

Tom thinks we’ll be out of here by July 4th. Oh, how I hope he’s right! It’s definitely time to finally get the hell out of here and move on. I also need to get back to the dentist and it would be nice not to have so much of our lives preoccupied with moving after nearly a year of planning, researching, and hunting. But I’m also afraid to get my hopes up after being let down in life so many times.

Still can’t decide whether or not to continue blogging publicly. It’s been loads of fun seeing who comes around and all that, and I know a lot of followers would be disappointed if I disappeared, but there are still stalkers to consider. Not just the ones I’ve had but any possible future ones that could be more trouble than anyone else has yet to be. It’s fun sharing this and that and hearing people’s input, but I also have to be careful and that gets old at times having to watch every single thing I say. But laws change and I constantly have to keep up with them. What’s perfectly legal today could be illegal tomorrow. Thus far it’s been that for the most part as long as one doesn’t post sensitive info, lies that can be proven and proven to harm someone in some kind of way, or any threats, you were ok. But maybe next week they’ll decide to make talking about pet rats illegal. In a country so picky and sensitive about wording and certain subjects, one never knows from day to day what’s acceptable and what’s not, not that I plan to ever let any “law” take advantage of me and rake my ass over the coals. Still, who needs the hassle?

Playing it safe and taking obvious precautionary measures is one thing, like being careful what house/park pics I share in public, but I think that there’s no need to go to extremes and disappear altogether from public so long as nothing drastic happens to cause me to do so. So my blogs will remain public, but I may not update all of them daily.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 29, 2013 Woke up a little warm yesterday and had to get up and adjust the thermostat’s settings on his computer. Oh, to have a home with a normal heating AND cooling system! One where doors and windows don’t have to enter into it and I can just walk up to a box on the wall, set it and forget it.

If all goes well, our days of living like a couple of fucking doped-up bums are seriously numbered!

I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination or just a psychological thing brought on by the Jes pest working down here the other day or not, but I thought I might’ve heard some loud machinery running up there, so for good measure, I added an earplug to the sound machine before going back to sleep. Once I got up for good and looked in back, I saw that the tree limb was still there.

I got both good and bad news in the message Tom left me before he crashed which was right before I got up. He said not to worry about my schedule cuz they not only aren’t going to process our application this week, but the “interview” is all done through the paperwork. So I’ve been pushing and wrestling with my schedule for nothing. It’s nice to know I can relax about that for now since not having a day/time this supposed meeting was supposedly taking place made it even harder on me. Having a day/time to aim for really does help.

Yet it sucks that they couldn’t let us know before the 1st so that the 30-day escrow thing could start on the 1st. However, if we’re here a few days in July that we don’t pay for, fine. I’m not going to feel bad for Jesse after we spent $40 on his faucets and are leaving him a $600 shed.

Tammy and her family are sooo cursed. An employee of Mark’s backed into his truck with a dump truck. One side of it is pretty beat up.

Still can’t believe how much muscle I’ve got. I’ve been on the solid side since my 20s, but what I had then and in my 30s was nothing compared to this. Now if only I could lose the fat as easily as I gain the muscle!

TUESDAY, MAY 28, 2013 Last night I was thinking that I’d never hear one of the very few things I’ll miss about this place and that’s the sound of the rain falling on the tin roof, but believe it or not, it rained for a few minutes earlier. Love that wet earthy smell!

Andy said he has to believe there’s a God cuz he just can’t believe life was created by an explosion like the planet was. I agree that humans are a bit complex and sophisticated not to have evolved from something that could think and figure, but I also agree with Tom and others who believe He’s not involved in our day-to-day lives. If He were then why would He allow so many bad things to happen? Because he plays favorites? Could be, but not likely. His not being around would explain why people’s lives vary so much and why the concept of prayer is pure wishful thinking. How I wish we could just go up and ask for whatever, reasonable or not! But when prayers are answered, I know it was just a coincidence, not that many of mine were answered before I realized that no one should have to pray because if something’s meant to be, be it by destiny or dumb luck, it will be. Period.

Maybe if anything is responsible for influencing good and bad things to happen to us it’s those we knew who are now deceased. I hope not, though, because if my parents could do bad to me alive, why not dead, although I honestly can’t see why they wouldn’t want to see us in a decent home of our own. I hate what they did to me and could never forgive them, but I am grateful for the very generous inheritance I got. I’ve been deprived, denied and cheated out of many things in life, but for once I felt like something was actually on my side when for a while I didn’t think I’d get shit. My parents pretended to be rich because image was everything to them when in fact they were just very comfortable, and then ended up in debt in the last few years of their life when the economy and their health problems worsened. But still, the attorneys were able to bleed 20K out of them and I think my ending up with 8K of it was more than most can expect to get when they lose their folks. Again, destiny or dumb luck, I do not know. I only know that while 8K may not be a huge inheritance (after all, some people get houses, fancy cars and flourishing businesses), it’s still a lot of money. So many people out there rent and live paycheck to paycheck, so I think I got more than most people get even though 8K certainly doesn’t have the value it had in 1950 or anything like that. My point? I do have some blessings in life, so it ain’t all bad! That money almost doubled our savings.

Just slow. Yeah, things go way too slow for us at times. I really hope this is it and that we get good news from the park this week! A worrisome thought crossed our minds earlier, however, and that’s how to keep his job while we make the transition. He has a few weeks’ worth of days off saved up, but you have to give them a week’s notice. You can’t just spontaneously take time off. Yet we can’t always know in advance when we’re going to be needed to do something pertaining to the move, and it may not be able to be done after work either. So it’s got me a bit concerned. Last time we bought a house he worked nights.

I’d like to think they’d say, “Well, life does exist outside of work, like it or not, he’s already put in sooo much OT, so we understand.” But that’s not the way it works. People are greedy and selfish and when it comes to people having things going on, the bosses only think of how it affects them personally. They’d fire someone if they had to lose a few hours to save their lives. The last thing I want to do is put ourselves at risk and give fate a chance to take advantage of us in a bad way. It’d be just our shit luck to be “punished” with him being fired in exchange for getting the house. Especially one so nice and roomy. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be safely done somehow. People buy houses all the time. But still… nothing good comes easy for us. We have to fight tooth and nail and pay dearly. We don’t get many breaks in life and have things simply handed to us, and even then there’s usually still some kind of price to pay.

We’re not sure why, but Brenda wants to be there when Tom submits the application to the park. We were also shocked to learn that this house has been on the market since 2010! I wondered if that was a bad thing, but as far as we know, nothing’s wrong with the place. It’s been re-roofed, re-plumbed and is structurally sound. I think maybe it’s the price that might’ve been part of the hold-up. It’s not a rip-off but it’s no bargain either. The couple may’ve not been all that serious until now either. They’ve probably been there a million years and don’t exactly want to go. Who the hell wants to give up their house to go live in an assisted living apartment? Anyway, appraisers and inspections come next, assuming the park lets us in, along with carpet cleaning. I want to try to shoot pics of this place after it’s been emptied out and the new place while it’s still empty to show the difference. There’s no comparison!

I’m just a little nervous, as with most new things, about making such major changes. They may be positive and they may be welcomed, but it’s still a big change going from being secluded in the woods back to civilization even if it’s in a ritzy park. I’m mostly nervous over trying to sleep through the motorcycle and next door parking alongside us, but hopefully the fact that the street is sort of uphill, making next door lower than us, will help muffle some sounds. Their roof isn’t down as low as our floor, but they are noticeably lower. No sense in worrying about it that much until and if we get in, I suppose.

Whenever we move, wherever we move to, I am going to go on one helluva washing frenzy at first! It’ll be great to finally be able to wash the comforters and things like that, which are too big for our small portable washer. If all goes well this little washer shouldn’t have 20 more loads to go. It’s been amazingly good to us over the years, and the timing is perfect because you’re supposed to replace its hose every 5 years.

Will I be online more? Yes and no. At first you bet I’ll be having a blast catching up on stuff this sluggish and unreliable connection prevented me from doing for so long, but eventually I may be on less because I will be out and about more often than I am here.

Anyway, Tom thinks it’s stress that’s made me so tired. I slept from 8am - 4pm and pretty well too, yet I awoke with something worse than PMS fatigue. All I wanted to do was lay in bed. I forced myself to have a chicken dinner hoping it’d perk me up. It didn’t. Finally had to shower to get some energy going and that didn’t happen till after 9pm.

I went to join the new thoughts.com just to see what it’s like these days, and sure enough, it wouldn’t let me sign up through Facebook. Then when I went to sign up the regular way, all I got was a white screen. So they’re just as fucked up as ever.

The other day I asked myself if it were even remotely possible I could be wrong in assuming certain questions on Ask were left by Kim, then sure enough, someone proved I did indeed wrongly credit her for the “I like food” one. Instead, it was left by a guy I suggested adding a background pic and so he added one of donuts. I just didn’t think he’d say that, or anything else, anonymously.

I realize that some could be from anonymous jokers or other people, but I think whoever insisted we were “very good friends” and that always gets on me to update MD when I slack off on it, is probably her. Friends usually say who they are and if they do pull any jokes they usually identify themselves eventually. But this person never gives me a name when I ask who they are, and as I’ve learned, if they don’t give you a name when asked, or they ask you to guess who they are, they have no intention of saying who they are. Wouldn’t this be because they know you dislike them?

Later…

Tom will be handing in the park application with Brenda tomorrow after work. We still don’t want to get our hopes up, but here’s something interesting. I dreamed of opening a large bag of toilet paper. The bag had several rolls in it and I pulled out two. Well, I haven’t been very psychic for several months now, but why would I pull out two rolls here in this place where there’s only one bathroom?

It gets better. Brenda must have serious confidence in us because the house is now listed as ‘sale pending’ which puts the Jes pest in the mode of ‘bad news pending’. :) It’s lucky it didn’t wake me up today, too. Fire season is coming and it came down to drag the big tree limb that went down toward the back of the lot. So tomorrow I’ll have to go to sleep with the stress of knowing he might wake me up when he comes to hack the damn thing up. The real pestering from him won’t come until we know for sure we’re outa here, but hopefully the excitement will override the stress.

If only I could stay on days till we got over there! There are many factors that make it hard for me to keep the same schedule and one of them is that being shorted sleep can have the opposite effect on me. Where most people who wake up tired go to bed earlier the next night, it’s common for me to stay tired most of the day, but then wake up in the late afternoon/early evening hours and end up being up 18 hours or so, which means I end up with less sleep the next night. It is truly frustrating as hell, but I just want to get the show on the road and make the damn transition already! I’m ready to see whether or not next door’s car doors are annoying or not, and if the motorcycle does wake me up or not, and if landscaping is a regular thing or not, all the while we enjoy a nice, modern fully loaded house (it even has a garbage disposal) with more space than we’ll ever need.

We should know by Friday, and hopefully the worst thing that could happen is we’re forced to pay the “Klammers” money we don’t owe them.

What a cruel tease it would be not only to us if they turned us down but to the couple still in the house as well. They’d have to start all over again looking for a buyer just like we would have to look in some other park that’s not as nice. For now, I just hope to hell they go from being the couple in the house we hope to get into to the couple in MY house that needs to get out of it!

SUNDAY, MAY 26, 2013 My Estrella Jail blog entry still gets accessed daily by various states and countries. It’s weird.

Had a very long, detailed dream about Kim and some Italian lady. I’ll get to it later. I’m busy today with this and that.

Had a dream last night Tammy left a message but that was a rather obvious and easy dream premonition cuz I expected to hear from her anyway.

That poor family is just as cursed physically as we were financially. God has just been so, so cruel to them. Becky’s having the migraines from hell, Mark needs polyps removed whether they’re cancerous or not, and Tammy’s lost 51% of her lung capacity. Furthermore, the insurance people are going to decide where she goes for treatment, not her. They could send her to Pittsburg or something. She feels like they care more about doing what’s cheapest and not what’s best for the patient, and I don’t blame her. Being just another name and number in jails and prisons is one thing, but it shouldn’t be that way when it comes to people’s health. Sadly, though, most of the world is based on money and looks. :(

I’m still hoping Tammy won’t need the transplant (I guess they’re going to discuss this in the fall) and that they’ll either stumble upon what disease she has or the right medication to stop it from advancing even more.

She was saying how Mark could eat and eat and eat and the guy still weighs nothing. No fair! I’m going from fat to obese. :( I don’t know if something’s wrong or if this is just how I naturally am nowadays, but I’m gaining an average of 1-2 pounds a month and if I don’t figure out how to stop it, I could die at over 300 pounds if I live another 30 years. The fat is starting to bury a lot of my muscles. After the move, I’m going to make one last-ditch effort to get to 120 (I can’t go much lower with the muscle mass that I now seem to be stuck with for life no matter how lazy I get). If I can’t lose weight I’ll see a doctor and either they’ll find something wrong we can hopefully fix, or they’ll tell me there’s nothing I can do about it and that it’s just part of aging, etc. The latter would suck, but at least I wouldn’t have to worry so much about what I ate if there wasn’t much I could do about it anyway. It’s not about looks for me in this day and age but about comfort and health problems. Since going from flat abs and narrow hips to drowning in fat, I fear I’ve opened the door to heart disease, diabetes, and God knows what else.

One of the first things Tom and I will definitely do when we get out of here is call Tammy and some others I haven’t talked to in centuries. We are definitely due for a live chat. I told Tammy to keep in mind, though, that it won’t happen as much as she’d like. I not only hate phones, but if you think I keep busy here, it’s nothing compared to how wonderfully busy I’ll be there! :) I swear, though, that sister of mine has become so like the old me who would happily gab away for hours every day. She’d do it even at 1% lung capacity!

Later…

We were talking about all the changes we’d like to make to the house, assuming the park lets us have it. Most of it will be done over a long period of time. The house/carpet/floor colors aren’t ugly, but they’re dull. The paint isn’t peeling and the carpet isn’t frayed and the floors aren’t scuffed, but I definitely want to refloor the kitchen, baths and laundry area, replace the brown carpet with pink carpet, and paint the outside peach with white trim instead of the white with brown trim that it currently is. We’ll at least get this carpet cleaned before we move in, and I can mop the floors. :) Fortunately, the couple there now doesn’t smoke, and if they ever did it was a long time ago.

We don’t have much furniture here cuz this place is so small, and what we do have is made for a small place. Like our little round 2-seater table. Really wish I hadn’t ended up stuck with these damn mannequins as they’re the only things keeping the place from looking “normal,” something I’d really like to have after years of living in ugly, dumpy freak shows with weird setups and all that. But they’re not that easy to sell, so I guess I may as well let them remain as part of the doll collection. Most of the dolls have been sold, but I still have quite a few of them, especially Barbie’s. But despite the weird shit I’ve so stupidly collected over the years, there should be some semblance of a typical setup when we get done with it. :) Still, I’m sure we’ll be the only ones there with 1 stuffed rat, 2 live rats, and 2 mannequins. I’ll probably know the most languages too.

The only room in this place (I hope Nane and Andy are right about the park letting us in) that I’ll want to change the window treatments in will be the bedroom. I want blackout drapes in there like hotels use. I hate sleeping with light, and half the time I sleep during the daytime, so it’s doubly important. The previous owners will probably leave the rest of the window treatments and I think they’ll be plenty suitable enough. There are huge windows along the entire front wall of the living room with sheer floor-to-ceiling curtains that are super nice cuz they let light in but don’t steal your privacy.

We looked online at various sites for ideas on desks, couches, dressers, etc., and then I accidentally ordered 300 sticks of incense, LOL. I didn’t realize the variety packs included so many sticks. The plan was to get just enough to burn while we’re still here as I don’t want to go smoking up the new place. I just hope we get in! Burning a few sticks over there won’t hurt anything.

Later…

OMG, I just killed the biggest ant I ever saw! I thought it was a black wasp at first. We gotta bomb this place if we don’t get the house.

I know they won’t but I almost wish they’d leave the glass table and chairs they had on the patio if we get the place. Not because I’m the outdoorsy type. I’m not really. I figure why sit out with the bugs and shit like that when I can sit in the climate-controlled comfort of home where I can go barefoot and not worry about stepping on things that could hurt me? I want it because it’s such a nice table that goes well on that patio and would be good for any company we may have.

Still not sure I want to continue blogging publicly (or at least in blogs known to my stalkers) after the move. I do and I don’t. I will have to sit down and make a list of the pros and cons at some point and then make a decision. I’d still share on FB and in blogs they either don’t know about and that are for friends only, if not totally private. This would mean dropping LJ, going private on MD, going friends only on MO, but continuing on with Tumblr unless they find that blog.

I had a dream last night Kim was in that was very long and detailed. It was weird, funny and creepy.

The real Kim isn’t very bright. At least not the one I remember. But in the dream, she was explaining in a very detailed manner and a way that would require much intelligence as to why they fucked up when making my artificial ear canal when I awoke at some resort or hotel we were vacationing at. I spotted her in the lobby where I was on my way to get coffee and breakfast. I pretended not to recognize her and hoped she’d do the same, but she knew right away who I was and that’s when she began her explanation.

I was hoping my lack of enthusiasm over running into her would cause her to take the hint. Instead, she followed me to the coffeemaker. Oddly enough, you had to pull out a large drawer to place your mug in below the coffeemaker and the coffee would drip down into it. “Why can’t we be friends?” she asked. “I really like you a lot and I miss you, Jodi.”

“You know why,” I said. Then I went to reach for my coffee and was shocked to find that the entire drawer was filled with coffee. I couldn’t see the mug at all. As much as I hated to stick my hands in a drawer full of coffee, I did anyway and fished around for the mug I couldn’t feel. In just a second, however, Kim swiftly reached in and pulled out my mug and then handed it to me. I smiled and said, “Kim, you just might be leaning toward a second chance after all, as much as I know I’d live to regret it.”

“Check this out,” she suddenly said excitedly. “You gotta see this.”

Against my better judgment, since I didn’t want to give her the impression we were friends again, I followed her to a table where her laptop sat. “Check what out?” I asked, as she sat in a chair and took hold of the mouse sitting next to it.

As I studied her I realized she’d gone from the heavy, unattractive girl I knew to one of average weight and looks with nice white teeth. In real life, I couldn’t say what her teeth are like because she never smiled in the endless slew of sad, mad, grumpy, pouty, bored-looking face shots she used to post.

She then explained to me that she’d written a program that not only traced anyone’s online activity from site to site, but their offline movements as well, and then she demonstrated to me that she knew the last site I was on right down to what I last ate and when I last peed. It was the most brilliant, sophisticated and utterly chilling program I’d ever seen.

Again she asked why I wouldn’t take her back as a friend, and trying not to show how rattled I was by her new program I said, “You know why, Kim. If you’d been just mean, but aware of what you were doing and capable of owning up to it and apologizing, I may’ve given you one more chance. But you’re too crazy to be reasoned with. You don’t know right from wrong, fact from fiction. Trusting you would be like trusting a mountain lion or a bear in the wild.”

Realizing no one else was around, I became nervous and headed away from her. The dream ended just as she’d reverted back to her usual enormous and hideous-looking self.

The Italian lady in last night’s dream was a different story compared to Kim. She was perhaps in her 60s, but very nice looking and stylishly dressed. I don’t know if we knew each other or if I’d just run into her, but she told me I was dead wrong in thinking there was an evil God up there. “Think about it,” she said. “There can’t possibly be any God at all and here’s why. If God was good, kind and loving, then how do you explain those with lousy lives? If He was evil, then how do you explain those with happy lives?”

Although she had a point I asked, “But why do so many people think there’s a God up there?”

“Because people need to tell themselves what they want to hear. Everyone wants to believe in some type of order and reasoning. No one wants to believe that things really do happen just because and for no reason at all. That’s just not good enough for most people. They want to be able to explain why things are and to believe that things happen for a reason even if they don’t understand them. They want to believe they can just ask for what they want and get it. But the truth is, we exist simply because there was a big old explosion once upon a time in space, and the things that happen to us don’t happen for any reason at all. If you get a drink it may be because you’re thirsty, but no God made you thirsty. You’re thirsty simply because humans just happen to get thirsty at times.”

When I woke up I pondered the woman’s words in the dream and realized what she’d said made a lot of sense. If God’s so good, then who/what’s doing the evil that happens to some people, and why doesn’t this “good” God stop it? Maybe we really are just as silly for believing in God, angels and stuff like that as kids are for believing in the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus. But WHY do we believe these things? Because we tell kids to believe in them, and then we tell ourselves to believe in God.

Maybe I really am heading more towards being atheist as opposed to agnostic. But could there still be an afterlife even with no God, evil or not???

SATURDAY, MAY 25, 2013 Just kicking back this Memorial Day weekend and relaxing in the peace and quiet around us. We went out to KFC after I got up and grabbed some combo meals, along with a chocolate chip cake that needed more chocolate chips added to it, to enjoy with the rats. Well, they just got biscuits and bones. I’ll give them potato wedges and mac and cheese later.

Jesse’s bleach obsession is back again and if he doesn’t knock it off, he’ll be hearing from me. The bleach, the slow Internet, his loud vehicles…damn I’m sick of it! Instead of growing more accustomed to it throughout the years I just get sicker of it.

Tom spent $40 replacing the ancient faucet handles in the tub. My first response was to tell Jesse about it and deduct it from the rent, but he insists it’ll help jinx things in our favor as far as getting into the park goes, and was tired of the old drippy faucets anyway and didn’t mind fixing it himself so we didn’t have to deal with him coming down here on his time and schedule. He really believes in this sort of thing just like how I wouldn’t clean much, but then as soon as I cleaned the place thoroughly, we got our foot in the door. It better jinx it, cuz if we don’t get the other foot in this place, the $40 is coming off the rent.

Nane was so funny the other day, telling me my bio was so much longer than she expected it to be after she printed it out that it would take her 29 subway trips around Munich to read it, LOL.

After she said it was just 7° in May (44° F), she said ok, enough gemeckert.

It’s only Saturday and I already miss my weekday cyber GF.

FRIDAY, MAY 24, 2013 They accepted our offer on the house! One down, one to go. We still have to get accepted by the park itself and that’s still kind of iffy. I’m both nervous and excited! I’m excited for obvious reasons, of course, but major changes are always a bit nerve-wracking till you adjust to new situations, new surroundings, new whatever. If I had the blessing of sleeping at night every night it wouldn’t be so bad, but during the first few weeks, I’m going to go to sleep – whenever – wondering if I’m going to get woken up. It’ll be better than wondering if the Jes pest is going to want to come down to do whatever. Still, once we move, it’ll be on to new worries not that I’m not ready to move on to new ones, since life usually has some form of worries or another. Once we finally defy God and get what we want, I’ll have to worry about Him using the neighbors against us, having our shit break, and worse, having Tom laid off. For the first year, though, we have a warranty for if anything breaks. Still, that motorcycle’s got to be maddening. I just hope they don’t use it nearly as much as the Jes pest uses his. The one he had to sit and gun engines on today for about 10 minutes. I giggle at the thought of the bad news heading his way soon enough! I just hope he doesn’t drive me crazier while the house is in escrow. So much needs to be done down here – roofing, painting, weeding…

So do we think we’ll really get accepted? Tom and I can’t even begin to guess. The Klam scam is still on the credit company they use, and even though he makes a ton of money, they may see it as not enough since most people also have car payments and shit like that to make that we don’t have.

I don’t want to get my hopes up. That’s all I can really say right now because there are reasons to think we will get it and reasons to think we won’t. I can’t believe God would be nice enough to let us have such a nice fancy, spacious house. I’m not exaggerating when I say it’s that nice and in that luxurious of a park. All the homes there are nice. They won’t even let any single-wides in it or anything made before 1975. Actually, I think ’77 is as old as they go cuz they had to be new when the park was established, and that was in ’77. It’s as close as we’ll ever come to living in a regular on-site house due to how it’s made, what it’s made of, and how it’s set up.

On the other hand, why wouldn’t God let us in if He could use a motorcycle and other things to interfere with my sleep and peace, even if it could never be anything even remotely like Phoenix or the NHA could get at times?

Naturally, I will drop false clues about it in my public blog to throw my stalkers off, though good luck getting in if you could find out which park we were in. It’s pretty secure. Still, maybe I’ll put us in Roseville or something. Maybe describe a particular house in a particular park that doesn’t even exist and laugh at the thought of them hunting for something they’ll never find, haha. Childish perhaps, but funny.

It’s strange to know that the economy that nearly killed us is also making this possible, for this house would’ve easily sold for 50K 6-7 years ago, making it much harder to get anything even halfway decent.

We looked online at furniture options, but again, we don’t want to jinx things and get too far ahead of ourselves till we hear what the park has to say.

To think we could be out of here by July 1st or sooner and into a real house with real space, doors that don’t flop open or flop shut, more than just a few wall outlets, normal heating/cooling, normal walls, drinkable tap water, cable, full-size appliances, dual-paned windows, sunken tubs and enough storage space to store everything we ever possessed and will possess, is utterly mind-boggling. There are pink rosebushes outside! And swimming pools, places to walk/bike ride to, and so much more!

looks skyward And you thought you were gonna send our asses outa here less than two years ago in body bags.

THURSDAY, MAY 23, 2013 Getting up this morning was hard. Tom says that what’s normal for me is simply what’s normal for me, but sometimes I wonder if I have wacky blood sugar levels causing me to need 8-10 hours of sleep instead of 6-8. Maybe I need a regular checkup after the move. It’s been since the 90s since I had one anyway. Tom’s probably right, though, I’m just being me and I just am who I am. I’ve heard it said before that people’s sleep needs vary the same as their calorie needs.

Really wish I knew when the park interview is cuz that’d help me base my schedule around that. Still, being exhausted one day won’t kill me even if I’d prefer not to show up for the interview tired any more than one wants to show up tired at a job interview. Tom should be able to tell me when it is when he gets home. He called the lady there, and sure enough, she did start off snippy just like two other realtors said she tends to be. He picked up the park application and we learned some things that are both good and bad.

They’re going to be adding water meters to all 531 houses, so that will be a long, loud and annoying project I’d have to listen to if they didn’t get it done before we moved in. But didn’t I say that once we got there there’d be things like this for me to have to deal with? I know some people feel more “alive” to hear outside sounds and their neighbor’s activities and less alone, but my attitude is, keep your shit outside the walls of my place! When I’m out and about in public, that’s one thing. But when I’m at home all I want is peace and to hear my noise and my noise only, especially when you’re a light sleeper who spends half her life sleeping during the daytime, something I still regret sharing with people. Just like my friend who battles depression is told to just “smile” and think happy thoughts, I’m told to just get up in the morning. Don’t you think we would do these things if it were that easy? Sometimes the simplest things in life just aren’t so simple. But I do my best and that’s all any of us can do.

So the water meter thing will be good for us but bad for those with yards. Some people have grass while others have gravel or shrubs and trees.

Tom said one woman asked if he was going to be her new neighbor on the way out of the office, saying she saw him looking at the house.

Another thing is they charge $50 a month for overnight guests. I don’t know if they’d charge for those who stay just a few days, but if anyone’s going to be there for any significant length of time, then they need to fill out an application with the park. So this keeps people from going to live with whomever. The only thing I don’t like is the allowing of motorcycles. That just seems all wrong and it goes against part of what a 55+ park is supposed to stand for – peace and quiet. Well, motorcycles are anything but quiet! Hopefully, this won’t open the door to other nuisances, though there’s only so much the park can restrict. The last thing people want is for them to get so restrictive that they start telling you what you can have for dinner. So far, though, with the exception of allowing for motorcycles, the rules and restrictions seem very fair and reasonable. I just hope history doesn’t repeat itself where every time we move, those who are quiet either turn noisy or move out and get replaced with noisy people. Hopefully, things will be different for the better since for the first time ever we’ll be surrounded by owners instead of renters. Renters are much more likely to be loud, rude, inconsiderate and trashy. At least in this country, they are.

While I am a little nervous going into a whole new endeavor (if we get accepted) I’m also very excited! Unless the offer is turned down, Jesse can expect bad news sometime next week. After the park meeting, we’re going to call and let him know what’s going on so that if the park calls him he’s not caught off guard. Jesse is very hard to communicate with cuz all he does is interrupt you. At least he and his mutts have been amazingly quiet. Yeah, that’s another familiar pattern I noticed years ago. Things tend to go quiet (or quieter) right before we move. I still can’t wait to get away from him! Going to sleep at 7am and wondering if some loud airplane or something else is going to wake me up is one thing, but worrying that he’ll want to come down and paint, weed or work on the roof at that time is another. And I am so, so sick of this snail-slow Internet that’s back to cutting in and out and in and out.

My biggest concern, more so than anything, is not getting in over our heads. Taking risks is one thing. Taking risks that can impact your survival is another. Tom said that if everything that could go wrong went wrong at once – another once-in-a-lifetime collapse of the economy, him getting laid off, the car breaking down completely – then yes, we could be pushed into another life or death situation although it would take a year to do it since we’re gonna try our best not to let the savings get that low. After a year we can see about refinancing.

Could anything up there hate us that much? I asked myself. Yes, it could. It most certainly could. It showed us it didn’t give a shit about us once, so couldn’t what can happen once happen twice? I think it can. But I also agree that the odds aren’t very good. Besides, the company he works for wasn’t at all affected by the economy. They’re not laying anyone off. Tom says they’re actually hiring people. So there’s plenty of work, plenty of jobs, and this is one of the few companies that doesn’t seem to favor youth, foreigners and minorities. If you can do the job, that’s all they care about, as it should be.

Nothing very exciting for dreams. The night before last I dreamed that they wanted us to dance to an aerobic type of dance video to pass their “fitness test.” I felt confident enough but wasn’t sure about Tom cuz while his job is physical, he’s not used to that kind of physical activity. But then the lady said we had to do it for 4 hours. So, agreeing to do our best, we started dancing, but then the rug underneath me started to slip. Not wanting to trip and fall I asked if I could pause the video and remove the rug. So I paused the old VHS vid, kicked the rug aside, and then the tape jammed when I went to hit ‘play’. I hope this dream isn’t saying that no matter what we do, we’ll never be able to satisfy them enough to let us live there.

But then it got really weird when I dreamed of trying to rent a room. It was just for me too, and the person I spoke with on the phone said she could rent me a room without a bathroom. “Then where the hell do I go?” I asked and she said down the hall to the community bathroom. “No thanks,” I said, “I want a bathroom in my room.” Then she kept asking what I had for weapons and I said, “I don’t have any weapons. I just want a fucking bathroom in my room!”

In last night’s dream, I was living with my parents who were back in the Land of the Living and in their 50s or 60s. They were lying in bed talking. The door was open and I stepped in to ask, “Are we all going to be sharing a condo together or will I be in my own condo?”

“I don’t know yet,” Dad said. Then he and Mom started giggling and tickling each other and carrying on in ways I’d NEVER known them to when they were alive and even rolled off the bed and onto the floor, still laughing like teenagers.

Later…

Just lit some jasmine incense. Mmm… that smells good. No news yet as to whether or not they accepted the offer. We’re still looking online in case they reject the offer or the park rejects us. So earlier Tom goes, “We’ve GOT to check this house out if they turn us down.” I looked over his shoulder at his monitor and asked what was so special about it. I mean it just looked like an average house. He said it was cuz of the last pic they posted - a close-up of a citrus tree. As in the dreams I had of citrus trees. The year and square footage are off, though the citrus tree dream was more prominent than that of years and sizes.

The Jodi Arias case really makes me shake my head with disgust. Not just cuz of what she did, but because of how the jury ended up deadlocked. How hard can it be to do the right thing and execute the bitch?! Instead, they’re just wasting time and money that could be spent on other things.

We all have things that we’re sick of hearing and for me, it’s bullshit cries or accusations of racism. Really, they just make me want to stuff a ball of yarn in the person’s mouth and slap their faces as red as an apple! I’m not the only one pissed about the mistrial, but when someone insisted the trial would be over a long time ago and she’d be put to death if she were a minority, I just want to scream. Simply scream till I lose my voice. That’s such bullshit! As someone else countered, when was the last time a black woman was executed??? They can’t even remember the last time. Tucker, Lewis, Wornous…all white women.

I have zero sympathy for the blacks of today. They have the upper hand in just about 99% of this country, so I don’t want to hear it. I try to be tolerant and all that shit, but I have my limits. If someone said something like that in front of me I just might come unglued. I am so sick of the same old bullshit sob stories! The Jews went through worse hell than the blacks ever did yet they pulled themselves up and forged ahead. They don’t choose to live in the past and use what happened to them as a weapon against others or as a means of muscling their way to the top. So why can’t blacks??? I’m sorry if Mr. So and So’s mother was fired or not hired for being black in 1950, and I’m sorry if Miss So and So’s dad was a slave a million years ago, but that was then and this is now!

Fact: Had Jodi Arias killed a black man, then yes, this case would be over already. And Jodi Arias would be sitting on death row. I don’t think she’s going to get the death penalty in the end but it won’t be because she’s white. It’ll be because too many people still have a problem with that, she only killed one person, and she has no priors.

While I’ll continue proofreading old journal entries in Word, I’ve just got to stop the publishing of the remaining entries (May-October of 1995-2011) while we’re still here due to this shitty connection. When it cuts out while uploading and saving them to the blogs, I end up losing everything and having to start over. Maybe I’ll throw the rest of May on at the end of the month and at a time of day the connection is less likely to cut out.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 22, 2013 Saw the house and we both love it! It’s definitely a huge, high-end home that borders on being a luxury home with its sunken tub, cathedral ceilings and other fancy features, and it’s definitely in a luxury park. You’d never know those homes weren’t built on-site.

There was only one thing I didn’t like and it had nothing to do with the house or our neighbor to the left. It was the damn motorcycle at the house diagonally in back. They just started letting them in, the realtor, Brenda, said. I was totally dismayed to hear that too, and that they would allow something so ferociously loud in a 55+ park cuz it makes you wonder what’s next. Loud music? Semis? Big dogs? Tom said he could tell by looking at it that the thing wouldn’t be as loud as Jesse’s Harley, but still, it was a bit too close for comfort. Not close enough to turn me off of the house completely. Not unless our immediate neighbor has one, though I didn’t see any. All I saw was a truck sitting in their open 1-car garage that I hope they never use as a workshop of any kind, even though their driveway isn’t quite as close to the house as the driveway in Phoenix was. There was only a 3-foot space between the wall of our house there and the welfare bum’s driveway. Here there’s a good-sized patio and a wall of plants and trees between their driveway and us. The neighbor’s truck suggests they may be younger. Like 50s and 60s kind of younger as opposed to 70s or 80s.

We arrived a few minutes before the realtor, parked the car in front and got out to look around. A guy was driving slowly down the street. The scattering of speed bumps doesn’t let you go that fast anyway. The guy stopped to ask if he could help us and we told him we were waiting for the realtor to show us the house. He was doing neighborhood watch. This park has all kinds of security and stuff like that. It’s a gated community, too. The back gate is always locked and the front is locked at night. Residents have a passkey to get in. There are also tire spikes that will puncture your tires if you try to enter the wrong way. When you go the right way the tires roll them down flat and they are harmless.

Like I said, this is a near-luxury home in a luxury park so I don’t want to get my hopes up. Brenda arrived stinking of cigarette smoke, and then she knocked on the door. The old couple living there, who are going to go live in an assisted living apartment once the house sells, were very nice. I’d say they were in their 80s or 90s.

I loved everything about the house, though I can’t imagine what we’d do with the rooms or fill all the space with. It would sit empty and sparsely furnished for a while because we don’t want to let our savings dip below a few grand. We’d just get what we needed right away and then wait on other things.

The living room was HUGE with its cathedral ceilings and 6 huge windows in front. That’s as many as this whole trailer has! No skylights in the place, but in a warm climate, that’s a good thing. The ceilings are level everywhere except for the living room. The online pics don’t do the place justice at all. Besides, they only shot the living room, kitchen and dining area. They didn’t shoot the laundry room which also has a built-in desk and some drawers and shelves, or the bedrooms.

I loved the huge built-in shelves in the living room between that room and the kitchen, plus the built-in hutch. Great for displaying some of the dolls.

The second bedroom is kind of smallish, but otherwise, nothing else about the house is even remotely small. You could put two king-size beds in the master bedroom. The only thing I didn’t like in there was the mirrored closet doors. Do I really need to be reminded every single day just how fat, old and ugly I’m getting? The master bath could easily hold a twin bed in the middle of it.

Surrounding the place outside is a scattering of trees, shrubs and flowers, and there’s even a good-sized workshop that we could use as a shed. I was wrong in saying it was 1500 square feet. When I looked at the list it said it was 1550. That and the workshop probably brings it to around 1700. Definitely more than we need! I have stalkers, so I better omit some of these details from my public blog.

Brenda said she just had to stop and ask my age, saying I looked in my 30s, LOL. The youngest household member has to be at least 45. After seeing the house we went outside and told Brenda we’d like to offer the asking price, and when I asked her what she thought our chances were of getting accepted by the park, she said they were very good. I hope so! But then she said a couple of disturbing things – that the manager can be “snippy.” That’s the second person to suggest this manager wasn’t very nice, reminding me of Stacey, this bitch that managed a complex I lived in down in Arizona in the 90s that made the residents’ lives hell, particularly mine. She didn’t just make me get rid of the cat I wasn’t supposed to have, she started stalking my every move. Hopefully, though, we’ll never have to deal with them after we get accepted, if we get accepted. The Klam scam has officially been kicked off our credit report! Only problem is it’s not the company they use. We’ll have to explain this to them in our letter.

Today we’re going to submit the offer and hope we beat the next two people coming to look at it who will probably also agree it’s a super nice house in a super nice location and totally worth the price. Not that I would, but I could walk around there at 3am and feel totally safe. But yeah, that’s the other disturbing thing. Two other people are going to be shown the place by different agents. I see a familiar pattern forming. After months of being on the market, just like with the Newcastle place, everyone suddenly wants to see it.

Lotta people have those little electric golf carts like my folks had in their park to get to and from the pool, clubhouse, lake, tennis courts and other goodies the park has to offer, though I’m not sure there are tennis courts there. I don’t mind walking or riding my bike so long as it’s not over 100° We’ll be dropping nearly 1000’ in elevation to close to sea level, so it’s warmer down there. Temps of 105° - 110° in the summer will be quite normal.

We never heard any barking within the park the whole time we were there, but behind the houses to the side of us are homes outside not belonging to the park. When we were outside we could hear a little barking in the distance. I just hope no loud car stereos make a habit of going back there, cuz that may be audible in the house. I’d be more concerned with the motorcycle and people next door, though, especially if they were in and out constantly and had a lot of company.

Anyway, you have 5 days to do a park interview once you make an offer that is pending approval of the park, if it’s accepted. Worst-case scenario, we are rejected but can still get a loan on anything between 20-35 grand in some other park. The other parks aren’t nearly as nice and the homes are elevated, except for one other one in Roseville, but if this park rejects you, so will Roseville. They’re luxury parks whose criteria borders on insanity.

Again, the pics don’t do this house justice, so if we get it I’ll take tons and tons of pics of both the house and the park.

Tom spoke with both the loan lady and Brenda when we got home, who emailed him some stuff we’ll need, and she asked if we wanted the tools in the workshop or anything else. This would be factored into the cost of the house. He didn’t pay any attention to what the tools were so all we’re really interested in are the appliances.

It was so nice to ride in an air-conditioned car! On the way back we grabbed a burger and fries at Carl’s Jr. here in town.

TUESDAY, MAY 21, 2013 So sorry for the people who have been affected by the Oklahoma tornado, but as usual, I refrain from praying figuring that if anything up there cared to answer the prayers, then why would it have allowed such havoc to be wreaked upon them in the first place? I still believe in fate too, and that if you pray for something that ends up happening, it’s because it was meant to be anyway, whether you asked for it or not. There are many people – including myself – who have at one time or another asked for very reasonable, fair requests only to be denied those requests. That’s why I believe that we can’t pray for what isn’t meant to be and we don’t need to pray for what is meant to be. Things are going to play themselves out the way they were fated to whether we like it or not and whether it’s fair or not. I hope those affected get what they truly need – help from fellow humans who walk on two feet and are willing to help them help themselves get back on their own two feet again after what I can just imagine has to be a truly devastating ordeal.

Anyway, I still don’t know if God exists and is just plain evil or if He’s as fictitious as the Tooth Fairy, but I need to focus on what I’m sure is real. The reality is that Tom’s picking me up after work to go see the 80s house and I’m once again wondering if it’s a waste of time. I’m sure I’ll love the house and the park and will mostly love the location within the park, but the interest rate for the loan we were approved for yesterday is a bit high. Also, we still don’t know if the park will even accept us. So I guess this house is 50/50 right now. I just don’t want us to put ourselves at risk again, even if it would only be temporary, and even if we’d still have a decent savings after the down payment and some new furniture.

We were talking about how 70 is the magic number for us. If he works until he’s 70, he not only gets a bigger retirement check, but I’ll be 62 at that time which means I get a third of whatever he gets. I forgot about that. We live in a time where the attitude is what’s yours is yours, what’s mine is mine. So I forget I’m entitled to benefits through him. If I didn’t officially retire till I was 65 (though I don’t know how you would “retire” from a home job), then I’d get half of what he gets. This would depend on how we’re doing at the time. The needier we are, the earlier I’ll retire.

I wish more cyber jobs would be created! But no one wants to work at home, so they never really pushed to create jobs that could be conducted online. Not very many anyway.

So why is Maliheh toying with me? Or is she really? I coded my last message to her to see if it would be picked up. But then I noticed her on my tracker yesterday morning and really late at night, probably when she got up and before bed. I did a little test and yes, she would actually have to open the message to send a hit to my tracker, but why? Did she just want to re-read it? Copy it for someone? Or does she know she’s putting out hits and just wants to remind me of her existence for some reason? Whatever it is she’s feeling, she’s gotta be pissed knowing her. I don’t think she’s capable of guilt at all. Whatever she feels, though, is her problem. I don’t feel guilty either, for telling her how I felt.

MONDAY, MAY 20, 2013 When I saw Maliheh on my visitor report I thought, you gotta be kidding! But then when I saw it said “no landing page,” I figured it was just her accessing her mailbox, but not the message or my blog. Hope she’s not going to show up every time she goes to check her mail. She never has before when I’ve coded messages, so why now? Did she really open the message or visit my blog? Something else? I just hope she can accept my two cents and leave it at that. She got what she wanted in the end and that’s me out of her life. But I know how vengeful she is and how quick she can be to run to the cops. I’ve done nothing illegal, but still. I don’t need any hassles from her in any way. I know I could’ve just stayed away and said nothing, but I felt I had to get things off my chest.

My blog visitor tracking site has been experiencing a lot of downtimes and it’s getting old. Oh well. Next month they’re history anyway. Unless they offer me another free year of service for taking another survey or whatever, I will no longer be tracking visitors after June 19th.

Finally had a positive moving dream, though I don’t remember much detail. Something about happily exclaiming how we beat the odds, scammers, and the God that fought so long and hard to stop this day from happening.

Then I dreamed in German. It was more than just a few words, too. I was babysitting a couple of little kids who wanted to see me write out and speak “United States” in all my languages. I said I wasn’t fluent in all the languages and wasn’t exactly a certified teacher.

“What’s a certified teacher?” they asked.

I rolled my eyes and said, “Before I try to explain that one, I’ll write United States for you.” I turned to a whiteboard and said, “Stati Uniti is Italian, Estados Unidos is Spanish and Portuguese, and Vereinigten Staaten is German. Then I was pointing to a large map of the US and saying, “Und dies es mein Land. Ich lebe hier. Erste hier (I pointed to the east of the map, then to the west) und dann hier.”

Things really are looking up for us with this house-hunting endeavor that seems to have been going on for a decade. The loan lady said our credit score is what our preferred park wants. That’s the good part. The bad is that the Klam scam is still there, and credit scores tend to fluctuate. It also depends on which report they pull up, too. The loan lady will be able to tell us more by Wednesday. I’ll be seeing the house between then and Saturday, at which time we’ll probably make an offer. Next week comes the park and hoping they’ll accept us, especially if they know we not only made an offer that was accepted (and we’ll make sure it is) but also that we even have a loan lined up. Worst-case scenario we have to pay the scammers off. Well, I hope that’s the worst thing that could happen anyway. I’d rather pay to be where we really want to be, then not pay to be where we’re not quite as happy.

We looked up this particular home’s manufacturer and learned that it does indeed have dual-paned windows. That’s all I’ll say for now, though, until and if we really do get this house.

Later…

Watched Maliheh’s video again, and I guess that yeah, that really is her singing AND playing guitar. It’s such poor quality that it’s nearly impossible to make out any details. You can’t see her features at all. I think she has straight brown hair that’s to her shoulders and maybe a bit lighter than I remember it to be. It’s probably dyed. She is older after all. Doesn’t sound it, though. Her singing is still “mixed.” Sometimes she sucks and goes flat, other times she has a strong, vibrant sound that’s right on key. I think she may actually do well singing ballads.

As they say, actions speak louder than words, and while she never told me she didn’t want to be friends with me, her actions certainly did. How do I feel about it? Well, I’m a little bit angered to have been befriended under false pretenses and I don’t appreciate people pretending to be my friend that don’t want anything to do with me, but I’m not surprised. There are a lot of phonies out there.

The whole thing is kind of sad. It didn’t have to be this way, but she chose to make her own bed and now she has to lie in it. I just hope for her sake that she really does like being alone like she told me because I don’t see how she could hold up in a relationship with the way she treats people. All she does is lead people on and give them the wrong idea about her and where she’s really coming from. Unlike 22 years ago, she never gave me the false impression of liking me more than just a friend, but she did lie about being a friend to me and wanting to be a friend to me. She knew what she was doing. She knew all along that once she felt confident that I would keep her name out of my book, she would slowly abandon me. I think it was easier for her than to explain why she was dumping me or admit that she never really wanted to be my friend. Maybe she feared I’d take it out on her friends or something if she told me the truth, but in reality, her friends have nothing to do with this unless she chooses to discuss it with them.

I know that I too, could’ve just kept my mouth shut and drifted away right along with her, but I felt I needed to get things off my chest, so that’s why I sent the message I sent her. I hesitated at first, knowing how vengeful she can be when pissed and her tendency to run to the police, but I didn’t say/do anything wrong. I told her how I felt and that’s that. We’re done with each other. Unless she emails me to tell me she stayed away because she in fact did come to have feelings for me she wasn’t comfortable with, or that she was abducted by aliens who wouldn’t exactly let her write home, I don’t want to hear from her. In fact, I doubt I’d even read anything that came in from her. I don’t think she’ll bother with me, though. Hasn’t that been the whole point in her silent treatment; to not bother with me?

Anyway, I don’t have any ill feelings for the phony chick wrapped up in a pretty package, but God help her if she ever decides to settle down. She’ll need to make some serious changes if she gets tired of that beloved solitude of hers.

Thank goodness for doggy noses. I awoke for a second when Tom was showering and caught a whiff of that familiar mildew/wet wood smell from when the sink pipe leaked. Sure enough, it’s leaking again, so I sucked some water out of the pan with the turkey baster.

SUNDAY, MAY 19, 2013 Maliheh not only did read my message, but she went to my LJ blog, too. That’s the link I have on Facebook, so she probably went from there. I’m surprised she hasn’t blocked me on FB. No replies either, though she may be taking her time to think about what she wants to say if she’s going to reply at all. I don’t think she will, though. Wonder if she’ll at least return to my blog. I doubt it.

What would I do without Andy, my loyal fan and editor? He pointed out that I never explained why I almost put the cheese under the sink yesterday, LOL. Well, it was when Tom came home with the groceries and I was unloading them that I almost did that. I’m easily distracted so when we’re talking while I’m putting things away, I can put things where they don’t belong, and that’s what I started to do with the cheese till he caught me.

Next week will be a test of just how much whatever’s up there is either for or against us. If it really gave a damn, it could line things up nicely in our favor and we could still give notice around June 1st. Tom filled out the loan application and should be given precise figures by Wednesday. Sometime between then and the weekend I’ll go to see the house. If I agree it’s suitable, though I don’t see why I wouldn’t like it better than the last house we saw as long as every single mutt in the 7 or 8 houses closest to it doesn’t go hitting their windows to bark their asses off at me.

Really beginning to wonder if someone’s watching Andy and I specifically on Ask or if there’s always someone watching everyone who changes background/profile pics. If he uploads anything inappropriate – or at least what they consider inappropriate – it gets deleted within seconds. Wonder if they could also have some automated program that scans pics and kicks out what it thinks is inappropriate, though it’s hard to believe anything that sophisticated exists.

SATURDAY, MAY 18, 2013 Good news from the lender Tom called from work yesterday! They said it’d be no problem to work with us. That doesn’t mean the park will accept us or change the fact that they’re super strict about who they take, but it certainly opens other doors for us in other parks if they don’t.

I hope the dream I had last night doesn’t mean anything bad. In it, Tom was calling around to other parks about other homes. Was this dream a sign saying the park will reject us?

I fixed the clogged shower drain by taking the plunger to it and the PMS hunger is kicking in. Perfect timing for it, though, cuz I usually stuff myself on Saturdays anyway. The hunger even woke me up last night so I knew I was burning calories. It’s no surprise with the way Andy worried me in my sleep! Yeah, I had a dream that was both worrisome and funny, but would be anything but funny if he told me what he told me in real life.

He and Kim became friends. I knew he’d eventually come to regret it once he got a firsthand taste of her insanity and the lies and delusions started adding up.

“Just don’t be surprised when she starts two-facing you and sending you rude, insulting messages anonymously while being sweet and kind to your face. This chick doesn’t know the meaning of the words friendship, kindness, caring, compassion and empathy. This chick hates. That’s all she does is hate and play pretend games, some of which may include creating accounts in your name to impersonate you.”

But he insisted it’d be “fine” and that he wasn’t worried about it. I knew, however, that he was a grown adult who had to do what he had to do and there was nothing I could do to talk him out of it till he eventually came to me admitting that I was right about her and he should’ve listened to me.

But then it got worse. Kim doesn’t live that far from him under the state line. Kim, who I’d bet just about anything, has never even so much as been kissed in her entire life. Naturally, I was horrified when he discussed actually meeting with her.

“Ok,” I said, “normally I let people do what they’re going to do but here’s where I can’t help but beg you not to meet with her. You don’t understand just how insane she is. These people, along with the other troll, live in a time warp. Once you let her go she’ll never let you go. She’ll harass you for life. She’ll always believe in her mind that you’re still friends, that you give a damn about her, and that you guys saw each other or chatted just yesterday. I don’t know that she’s physically dangerous, but what if she is? You DON’T want to meet her or let her see where you live!”

And then it got even worse! Andy decided to make her his sex slave and she agreed to it. “You know I don’t care about looks,” he insisted, “if it’s just for sex. Therefore, body parts don’t matter either since I’m not going to be servicing them.”

That’s when I went into panic mode and said, “You’ll care about looks when you see this one, trust me. Also, what if my MPD suspicions are right? That’s usually brought on by childhood sexual abuse, Andy. What if she has flashbacks about whoever molested her and goes crazy on you?”

And so I woke up hopelessly trying to talk him out of meeting with this psychopath that easily outweighs him.

Later…

I’m doing a test right now to see if Kim really isn’t reading my other blogs when I don’t update MD, be it because she can’t view it well on her cell, wants to avoid tracking, or whatever. I didn’t post the entry about the dream she was in on MD. It’ll be interesting to see what “questions” may come in on Ask when I finally do.

It’s a good thing Tom was in the kitchen to stop me from accidentally putting the cheese under the sink. In the box it was in I thought it was freezer bags at first, haha.

We scanned in the important papers we’ll need for dealing with the park people and the lenders.

Other than pigging out and doing laundry, it’s been a relaxing day. Tom put the hubcap back on that fell off, and fixed the car’s AC.

They’ve given Tom back his weekends, but still OTing him during the week. The extra money is still nice, but so is his getting to have the entire weekend off.

We were debating whether or not the home we hope to get but don’t expect to get has dual-paned windows, since it doesn’t say so in the listing. He thinks it does, I think it doesn’t, but then Tom read that if your home was built after 1980, it probably has dual-paned windows.

I’m just trying not to get my hopes up. I won’t even plan in my mind what I’d want to do with each room. He started to ask where I’d put what and I said, “I don’t even want to go down that road again. Not until we actually get a place. Then I’ll decide.”

Later…

I don’t know if some glitch will prevent her from getting it or she just won’t care to read it, but I sent my final two cents to Maliheh. As I told her, she’s… well, here’s what I told her she is, but first, I found a video of her singing and playing guitar on YouTube. I can’t swear that that was her in front on guitar because it was of poor quality. The person seemed a bit tall and heavy to be her, but if it was her, she plays guitar much better than she sings. She’s just an average singer. Like me she’s better than most but nothing to flip over. So here’s what she’ll no doubt call my “Dear John” letter to her.

I don’t know if some glitch will prevent her from getting it or she just won’t care to read it, but I sent my final two cents to Maliheh. As I told her, she’s… well, here’s what I told her she is, but first, I’m not going to use just her initial. I’m not obligated to her in any way and since we’re no longer friends and she dumped me like a hot potato, I’m in no position to really care about her feelings, though I’ll never use her last name.

Wow, I missed your birthday! Guess I was just too busy to care. Well, what do you think? Think I might’ve been too busy not giving a shit? You know, sort of like how you never gave a shit about me. You sure put on a good act for me for a while, though. Are you proud of yourself for proving my deepening suspicions to be correct? Yeah, Maliheh, “I’ve been sick,” or “I’ve been busy” won’t cut it anymore, so please don’t try that one on me. You’ve gotten too obvious that no matter how many times you try to tell me it’s not me and that you’ll always be my friend and not stay away so long in the future, I’ll never believe it.

But you’re right, it’s not me. It’s YOU. You befriended me under false pretenses just to keep your name out of the book like many suggested was the case, and like I came to suspect in time. If your heart wasn’t in the idea of us being friends, why then? Why? Why couldn’t you simply have contacted me and said, “Look, I really don’t want to be your friend, but I’d like to ask you to remove my name?” I would have honored your request. Instead, you thought you could just order me around, make demands, then discard me like yesterday’s trash once you’d gotten what you wanted.

Or maybe you really were a true friend for a while, then got sick of me or something and were just afraid to come out and tell me you were dumping me for fear of me bashing you in my blog, using your name in a book, or taking it out on your friends. I won’t, though. You’re the same person you were in 1991, but I’ve changed. If I said your name would remain out of my books, it will. Same for leaving your friends alone. As for my blog, no worries there either. I won’t make up any tall tales about you, BUT… it is my blog and I have the right to express myself in it. Even though I’m not legally obligated to do so I usually only refer to you as just M. Look up blogger’s rights and you’ll see that as long as I don’t use full names, give sensitive info, or make any threats, then I’m not doing anything wrong.

In coming to learn through your actions and not your words that my friendship meant nothing to you, now I don’t know if the things you told me are even true. Do you really sing and play the guitar? You sure seemed to and the things on your FB account (yes, there are ways to legally view private accounts without hacking into them, including PMs) but then why were you so unwilling to share videos with me? And do you really think I’m a good writer? IDK, maybe you don’t think I’m talented at all. Maybe you really think I suck shit, but I know one thing for sure. I have never done a damn thing wrong to you other than the prank calls I made and pestering your pals. You have done nothing but fuck with my head and lie to me, both in the past and the present, and I’m going to make sure that it never happens again. You were always just a typical bitch wrapped up in a pretty package. If I were single and looking I’d go right for those fatties, uglies and plain lame Janes I always used to bitch about getting stuck with. They’re the only ones who are for real and because I was never all that good-looking myself they knew I was real too, while your kind knew I was too good for you. Literally.

The red flag first went up when you refused to chat via phone and to add me on Facebook. Sorry, but I don’t buy your claims of not being very active there. Maybe you weren’t then, but you sure have been for quite a while now. So to tell me you only check in once in a blue moon to see who’s died is ridiculous. C’mon anyone that can master the guitar is not dumb. And guess what? I’m not either. I think you really did read the book. You probably had nothing to do with whoever was impersonating you for a while there or harassing me on ask.fm, but sending me friend requests and then quickly canceling them wasn’t very funny. I didn’t appreciate it one bit. Did that picture of you and Karen Carpenter really ever exist that you promised to share but never did? I just don’t know what to believe anymore, but it doesn’t matter because this is the last you will ever hear from me. We’re DONE.

Another red flag was when you said you hated it when people would send messages asking if you were ok if they didn’t hear from you for months, as if you knew you were planning on slowly drifting away once you felt comfortable and confident enough knowing you’d gotten what you wanted. Oh, I don’t doubt you’ve had your share of illnesses and hardships. But two people don’t go from talking nearly every day to not talking for months that are good friends. You wouldn’t even take the time to send me a quick message once a week. You promised not to let so much time go by again, but you did. Now don’t worry. I’m not going to beg you to change. I wouldn’t want anyone to stay in my life that was unhappy. I don’t regret what we had, but like I said, we’re done. I lost all respect for you. I’m as done with you as you have been with me. It was fun and it was interesting for a while, but I find it harder and harder to care about those who don’t care about me. Maybe you don’t wish bad things upon me, but you certainly don’t care about me. Nonetheless, you were someone I once loved and so I will cherish the memories of those months of chatting with you. Meanwhile, how you take this “Dear John” letter or whatever you want to call it is up to you. You’re welcome to visit my blogs if you ever really want to know what’s up with me, but I won’t be bothering you with any more emails.

You DID ask me to dance with you as soon as my friend and I entered the bar. You DID give me a reason to think the attraction was mutual. You DID kiss me on the way out of the place. You DID give me your phone number yourself. No, I don’t think you were drunk, but I do think you were deliberately playing with my head and that you were never really attracted to me. Only I was too naïve to see it at the time. And I don’t believe you weren’t behind those prank calls either, I happened to get an UNLISTED number that less than a dozen people had after I was charged with the pranks to you.

You said you like being alone. Do you really? Or are you alone because of how you are? Well, your reasons are your business and while you may like to be alone, I hope you at least have a lot of friends since you burned me as a bridge as far as a possible safety net goes. If you’re ever homeless, I won’t be there for you, and I know you’re not doing too well right now cuz of the dreams. In one dream I was working outside on whatever. You walked up to me and said, “Do you know who I am?” I said, “Yeah, I know who you are.” I made sure to let you know with my tone that I really didn’t care either, reminding you that you threw me away like an old, used-up dishrag once you’d finally gotten what you wanted from me.

How do you live with yourself? I wonder.

Now it’s my turn to tell YOU what to do. You will A, never email me again because it will be marked as spam instead of actually read. You will B, never contact me on Facebook or any other site, though I don’t care if you read my blogs. You will C, find a dildo made of metal, heat it up on the stove and shove it up your arse.

Goodbye “Boss”

FRIDAY, MAY 17, 2013 No one tried to set me on fire in my dreams last night, but I sure was tired when I got up. I slept pretty solid too, for 8 hours, but felt anything but refreshed. After Tom left I fixed myself something to eat hoping it would perk me up. It didn’t. Realizing that even if I fell back asleep until noon (even though I knew I wouldn’t sleep that late), I’d still have enough time to do everything I wanted to get done before Tom got home. So I took a 3-hour nap, which helped a lot. Got up, worked out, showered, then did some cleaning and laundry. I also hand-shredded some soda boxes that were taking up space and did the grocery list.

The place is now the cleanest it’s been in weeks. It took me nearly an hour just to get all the hair and grime out of the bathroom yesterday after slacking off for too long. I guess I was just too busy dreaming instead of living. But no slacking off until and if we ever officially give notice. I don’t know how many more months or years we’ll be here, but we’re not going anywhere anytime soon.

Tammy left a message saying she was too sick to get to her appointment, probably due to stress. She didn’t sound too bad and I’m hoping they won’t need to do the transplant. Mark’s blood work hasn’t been very good, though nothing to get overly alarmed about either. I just hope they both get some serious answers soon! And Andy too, who has been having breathing problems. I think both Massachusetts and Arizona are lousy states to be in if you have any kind of lung issues. Humid places are probably the worst.

Tammy also said she and Mark thought the house we’re currently after is gorgeous and they hope we get it. Yeah, but as I explained to them, this is in the Rolls Royce of parks and I think they’re more likely to turn us down than any lenders would be. A year from now, our credit will be outstanding, and the Klam scam will expire if we can’t get it disputed. They have until the 22nd to let us know what they’re going to do about that. It’s sad that people would pay to spite others. It may not be much, but the rental company has to pay to keep their shit on our report. Still, we don’t want to wait a year to get into our preferred park when there are other parks that may not be as nice but are still nice enough. Tom intends to explain to the park people about how we’re disputing the credit and all that, but if they’re anything like what we heard they’re like, then they’re not willing to work with anyone who doesn’t have 100% perfect credit with a super high score.

But it’s such a fancy park that that’s why the space rents and houses are more expensive there. Everyone wants to live there. Yet they won’t budge on anything. The realtor that showed us the barking house said a lady tried to get in that was just a few months shy of turning 55 and they said no way.

I’m up to date as far as what’s going on but am still in the mood to write. So I thought I’d address a certain issue – anger. Andy and I were talking about it the other day. To me, anger is the third-worst emotion after fear and depression. It’s no fun at all to be pissed off, and I don’t think anyone wants to be that way or chooses to be that way. I think most sane people would rather feel positive emotions. In fact, I just chatted with a friend who suffers from depression and she told me she feels like I understand her. I’m not going to tell her to just smile or think happy thoughts. As she said, wouldn’t she have done this if it were that simple? Duh! But she still does try to help herself with doing things she enjoys when she can and that’s what I try to do too, when I find myself getting angry with anyone who’s ever wronged me in the past or something like that.

When Andy said that while he was sorry about what happened to me in Arizona he also found it sad that my anger was still as fresh as if it happened last year. At first I just rolled my eyes and was like, yeah, yeah, you’re sad about a lot of things you don’t get. But I can kind of see where he’d say that even though he – along with anyone else who didn’t experience what I experienced firsthand – couldn’t possibly fully understand why I feel the way I do.

As I told him, “lasting” more appropriately describes the effects of the legal abuse I endured, more so than “fresh.” It’s one of those things that like most traumatic events can seem like it happened just yesterday because it was so severe for so long. So yeah, something that severe and compounding really can seem more recent than it actually was. The effects are permanent no matter how many times you try to reason with yourself and tell yourself that those who victimized you can never hurt you again. No, it’s not like I expect them to jump out at me when I open the closet door (I almost wish they would), but the memories live on and so does the paranoia. While it’s easy to tell myself they would’ve hunted me down and harmed me by now if they wanted to, it’s only natural to wonder at times if those trees I heard rustling when I was outdoors was really just a deer, or could it be them, ready to shoot and kill?

I know some people would agree with my being angry and unforgiving of those involved, and that some would disagree with it, but as my therapist told me 12 years ago, “Never let anyone judge you for your emotions. There are no right or wrong emotions or length of time you should feel them. As long as you’re not harming others or doing anything to yourself that’s self-destructive, don’t try to stifle your feelings. Let yourself feel whatever it is you feel.”

And so I have heeded her advice over the years.

Forgiveness seems to be something many people can pick and choose at will, but it doesn’t work that way for me any more than I can pick and choose flavors, colors and music I like or dislike. It simply is what it is for me. Although I probably wouldn’t want to be in touch with them, I could forgive almost anyone who delivers a true, honest heartfelt apology to me. If you can recognize and admit you did wrong and say “I’m sorry,” I’m willing to put almost anything in the past and move on. I may not forget it and I may not want to be friends with you again, if I ever was to begin with, but I am totally capable of forgiving most things.

These people, however, are one of the few exceptions no matter how many heartfelt apologies, cash or other things they threw my way. No doubt about that, and I feel no shame or guilt for it. I don’t and I won’t apologize for my thoughts, feelings, opinions, emotions, beliefs, hopes, goals, fears or dreams and I never ever will. I’m open to ideas and suggestions, but in the end I always prefer to be true to myself and just let me be me.

Andy commented on how I once had good things to say about Arizona and now I see the state as dirt. Yeah, I do see the state as dirt. But I still have some nice things to say about it. I met some very evil people there, yes, but I also met some of the nicest people ever, including my husband. I often miss the annoying but cool monsoon storms at times. So I have mixed emotions about the state. Yes, thinking Arizona reminds me of the assholes that screwed me, but it still had its fun moments.

I guess they haven’t decided yet if they’re going to sentence Jodi Arias to death as I feel she should be to save the taxpayers the expense of feeding and housing her for the rest of her life. I would be both surprised and not surprised if she did get the death penalty. I’d be surprised because that sentence is usually reserved for those who kill multiple people, and because the justice system isn’t always very good at doing what’s right. But then I wouldn’t be surprised because she’s a woman, and Arizona, which is a notoriously strict state often in a barbaric way, is especially hard on whites. Had she killed a black man, that’d up her chances of getting the needle for damn sure.

THURSDAY, MAY 16, 2013 Thirty years after the fact I’m still having Valleyhead nightmares. Several of my VH sisters and I were back there again. Not sure if we were kids again or if we were there as adults, but anyway, evil A and her equally evil sister managed to herd us into the music room (even though the original VH was burned down by a “student” in 1987). There was a long bar running the length of the room. They took one of our wrists and handcuffed each of us to the bar. We thought it was some kind of game or joke so we were all laughing and all that until they started throwing gasoline on us. Before they could light us all on fire, I managed to break free of my cuffs and run outside into the woods.

I burst into a clearing and saw Mr. Merritt, the school’s former owner until the FBI shut down the one they built after the fire. I called to him in a panic and thought it a bit odd that he should be smiling happily instead of wearing a look of concern over how freaked out I obviously was. When I told him they were trying to torch us, he just laughed.

I spun around and ran back into the woods. I was coughing and gagging on the gas fumes when I tripped and fell into a shallow pit. I can’t swear to it, but I think the hands that went under my arms to pull me up right before I awoke were my foster mother’s.

I asked Tom if he thought that was a sign of us being trapped here, but since I did escape in the end, he thinks maybe it could mean just the opposite. Well, I don’t know when the hell we’re getting out of here, but I know we’re aiming for yet another house we probably won’t get. At least it’s at our favorite park. It’s 1500 square feet. That’s 3 of what we’re in now. A bit bigger than we need but it definitely excites me more than the last place did. It’s not in as ideal of a location as the Newcastle place was or even the last CH place we saw together since the neighbor’s carport didn’t run alongside the place, but I definitely like the house pics and area better. Tom saw it yesterday on his way home from work and said it was well-maintained and very nice. It’s not empty, though. There’s a very old couple – amazingly petless – that are still living in it and ready to move to an assisted living apartment complex. Tom asked the realtor if they’re sure they want to sell the place as he doesn’t want to force anyone out. And I don’t want to play games with people who aren’t serious either, but she assured him they really are serious about moving.

The only negative is that 28K is kind of pricy. Yes, the 1983 spacious home is nice, and yes it’s fully loaded with everything we need – fridge, dishwasher, washer/dryer – but it doesn’t have dual-paned windows, or does it?

Andy didn’t like it cuz it’s on a corner. It’s not only on a corner, but the street wraps around 3 sides of the place and we’d only have one immediate neighbor. I prefer streets to neighbors. Traffic moves. Neighbors can hang outdoors in carports and patios for hours. Also, there’s no through-way there. It’s in the back of the park and so only those that live back there would use those streets.

If we ended up in this place, then I would be so glad we got outbid on the last one. For the first time in my life, I would think something actually did us a favor rather than take an opportunity away from us. Seeing that field in back of the last place made me a little nervous. Then seeing the hangout the people on the right had set up made me a little more nervous (I don’t want people camped outside my window sitting around gabbing and being that annoyingly close). But once that mutt hit the window and went off on us, that was a real punch in the stomach, not that there may not be dogs barking out of windows across the street from this place.

So the next step is to work with the realtor who works with lenders who also works with the park. Still no word on the Klam scam dispute, but our credit is climbing higher.

Later…

Heard from the Kimotherfucker on Ask #1 until I tweaked my settings. The sicko truly seems to believe we’re still damn good friends and sometimes I wonder if she even thinks we’re lovers. I first thought she was consciously going out of her way to make trouble for me, but now I wonder if it’s her twisted belief that I actually give a shit about her that’s causing her inability to let go after nearly a year of being dumped by me. I had no idea just how deep her insanity ran. Just no idea at all.

In an age when communication should be easy as hell, it’s so frustrating when you can’t send/receive any non-friends messages and sometimes you can’t even send/receive friend messages. I often wonder if I should create a second account and see if that one has better luck with that sort of thing. Then I could also see if I’m blocked or the person deactivated when someone disappears. This way I would also have a backup in case anything happened to my main account. I almost wish the Zuck fuck would start charging now. That’d make these dilemmas a lot easier since all I’d do is leave at that point.

I’m also pissed at some of these email services. Hotmail can still be hit or miss, and some providers, like AOL, have put blocks on mail.com due to spam. I’m beginning to wonder if the messages I sent Maliheh that I was so sure she was ignoring were in fact not received. That still doesn’t explain why she hasn’t contacted me, though, unless Yahoo has issues as well. I think what I’ve thought for a while now where she’s concerned – that she friended me under false pretenses, got what she wanted, and now she’s gone. Hope she’s never in serious need again because we’re one bridge she has certainly burned.

Figured out how to delete my LJ blog. Not sure I ever will, but it’s nice to know the option is there.

Tom forgot to bring up the trash this morning and I’m kind of glad he did. It was a nice hike up that hill and the weather’s cool, though lovely. I figured it wouldn’t really rain today, but it is cool enough to close windows for the first time in a week or so. I have the bathroom one open but we’re going to need heat for the next two nights.

Tom usually places the trash on the hood of the car and drives it up the hill on his way to work on Thursdays, but his forgetting gave me a nice workout. Had to be careful not to slip on the way back down. The drive has gravel on it so I had to walk in the middle where there are some weeds for better traction. I really am quite a runner, though, and that’s a good thing. If anyone ever grabs my handbag I want to be able to chase them down, and I will. I’m gonna pummel them to death with the damn thing, too.

I’m surprised the dogs didn’t go off on me when I reached the fork, but I didn’t make much noise. I also think whoever was staying with the Jes pest and then left, has returned. The dogs have been too quiet for just the Jes pest to be there. There hasn’t been any weekend or daytime barking other than the usual few barks if someone goes up there.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 15, 2013 Trying to wipe down the rats’ cage with them inside isn’t very easy when they try to chase and grab the rag, LOL. They think everything is a game.

In last night’s dream, Tom and I were hiding out somewhere. He was in big trouble, though I don’t know what it was he supposedly did, since he’s not exactly the criminal type, LOL. Still, the cops wanted him and so we had to think of a way to deceive the bastards. Tom came up with a way to make an exact replica of himself to throw by the freeway. That way the pigs would think he got hit by traffic and quit looking for him. But the timing had to be perfect and all the while I was worried about his “other self” stinking up the place as he decomposed. It was one weird-ass crazy dream!

The house-hunting thing is still the same old waiting game that never ends. Everything is either too much, too far, or too something. I know we’ll be here for a long time to come, but I’ve pretty much accepted that. It’s all I really can do. I’m trying to unpack some things and make this place as comfortable as possible, but when you don’t have the space to work, it’s a real challenge.

They say it’s to be just 66° and rainy tomorrow, but I’ll believe it when I see it. It’s been quieter overall, but May-September is when it’s at its quietest here anyway.

Kim asked what it would take to get me to update MD. At least I think it’s her. I ignored it, but plan to update it on the 1st. For now, she can go to MO, which I just opened up again since I haven’t seen Molly on my tracker for two days now. Again, though, I still don’t get these people’s interest in my journal which I cut ties with years ago. Who the hell belittles themselves to following someone who doesn’t want anything to do with them like some desperate little puppy??? Is that all they feel they deserve is people who can’t stand them?

Chatted with my usual buddies, Andy, Nane and Aly. Hope Maliheh noticed that I’m ignoring her birthday, LOL, but I doubt she ever gives me a second’s thought anymore.

TUESDAY, MAY 14, 2013 Got a nasty case of PMS fatigue going. I slept just fine but have no energy whatsoever. It seems pretty fucked up that a woman can elect to have her boobs enlarged but she can’t elect to have a hysterectomy. Really, what’s the point of needlessly going through PMS and periods month after month??? You hear all this talk about a woman’s right to kick her bun out of the oven, and that’s fine, but she should also have the right to remove the oven in the first place. It’s her body, isn’t it?

I hope Jodi Arias receives the death penalty. People say death is too easy and she should be made to suffer in jail for the rest of her life, but why should people have to pay for her to suffer? Why should the burden fall on the taxpayers of Arizona to have to pay to house and feed the bitch all her life?

I look the absolute worst I’ve ever looked in my life, and I think that no matter how much I work my abs I’m simply too old to have a flat stomach ever again. I think that no matter how much I work out and try to watch what I eat I’m just going to keep getting bigger and uglier till the day I die, but I should still work out because working out keeps you fit no matter how much extra fat you may have. I’ve been slacking off in that department and I’ve got to stop being lazy and making excuses to put off working out for just one more day, which turns into another day, and so on and so forth. It only takes a couple of weeks of slacking off to notice a decline in energy and stamina. I’m just glad I’m not single and playing the dating game as I know I could never get anyone, man or a woman. Hell, if the women didn’t want me when I was young and skinny, why would they now?

I asked Tom when he is going to believe me when I tell him something’s trying to keep us trapped here, and he said 2014. That long, huh? Well, it’s already obvious enough to me, but the question is why. Is it just trying to keep us from owning and having more space? Or would it actually be even noisier there and that’s why it’s trying to stop us?

So he can go on looking for what we can’t have and that isn’t meant to be, but I’ve already given up in my mind. If we ever do get out of here it’s not going to be for a long, long time to come.

It was dead quiet here yesterday, but Mondays usually are. I’m sure I’ll hear all kinds of things today. If it weren’t for dogs, saws, and loud vehicles here, it would have been dogs, people and some loud vehicles in a park. It still would’ve been nice to have a bigger, nicer, newer place that was all ours, but we obviously don’t deserve that much in life, so maybe I can get myself to unpack at least some of the stuff I packed.

I only had one lightheaded spell yesterday and none so far today. Yesterday I did have some gas and a queasy belly, though I don’t know why. I hadn’t eaten in hours. No runs either, but for a minute there I thought I was going to be in for them when I got up.

Aly alerted me to Molly’s newest FB account but said she couldn’t find it even though she forgot to block it after declining her friend invite. I couldn’t find her either, nor was she on my visitor list. Mommy Dearest must’ve discovered her newest playground for bashing and threatening people and kicked her back offline. So much for the group home doing her any good and teaching an old dog new tricks.

MONDAY, MAY 13, 2013 Since Molly’s sister thought Alison cared so much that she notified her that the troll would be home and online till the 19th, I thought it a bit strange that she hadn’t shown up on my tracker. I got a couple of visits from someone in Weslaco but found that the person had XP and not Win7. I didn’t think anything of it till I saw they were accessing old posts and that their provider was Road Runner like Molly’s. Also, when I pulled up the map I saw they were right outside of Harlingen, so that’s when I knew it had to be Molly. She’s probably at a relative’s place though it’s not uncommon for our locations to change even if we’re always at the same place. Today it’s saying I’m in Elk Grove.

Mark is really, really hell-bent on making Facebook shittier than ever. Yes, the Zuck sucks. I was talking to Nina, the woman in Sarajevo who runs one of the nature pic pages I subscribe to just learned that you now have to pay for “likes” and how it’s getting harder and harder to reach people on FB. I know. I can’t even send non-friends messages half the time. It says it was sent to their ‘other’ box since now the cheap bastard wants us to pay for hitting their inbox, but never appears as ever being read. The few friend requests I’ve sent to people I once knew aren’t even being received.

As I told her, I’d love to drop FB and I would in a heartbeat if there was a better way to keep in touch with friends and family. Only it wouldn’t be that easy to convince everyone to keep in touch either by email or on other sites. It’s just not as convenient or as fun for people to keep in touch via email. So as much as I hate it it’s not something I can just up and leave, but you bet your ass I will if they ever do start charging us a fee! That’s where I definitely draw the line even if it’s just a few bucks a month. Facebook doesn’t need more money. The Zuck fuck doesn’t need more money. I’m not going to pay selfish, greedy assholes in which enough is never enough. The bastard’s a billionaire and doesn’t need our money nearly as much as we do.

What sucks is that all good things eventually do come to an end. I can’t think of many sites that haven’t gone to hell and changed for the worse. Even air freshener goes to hell. Glade made it so their sprays quit working before the bottles are empty, and Airwick’s stuff now makes me cough. It’s gonna suck when Febreze trashes their products as well.

Tom just got up and said that’s what they always wanted to do is charge people to use their damn site and all its glitches. Says it should be a long time, though. Well, I’m definitely gone when it happens! They are going to lose sooo many people if they start charging people. I hope people will want to keep in touch in other ways, but hey, that’ll be a good test of just how much they care. :)

Because I have accumulated so many pictures I got some really cool software yesterday direct from Apple’s app store for $10. It’s easy to end up with duplicates when you download so many pics. This software hunts for dupes and similar pics as well.

Been having spells of lightheadedness and at least partial runs and I don’t know why. I don’t get dizzy, though. The room doesn’t spin and I don’t experience sensations of vertigo or anything like that. I just get a funny feeling in my head and sometimes my ears ring. Like with most symptoms, if I try looking them up it tells me I have all kinds of diseases. Let’s see… my digestive tract is bleeding and I think I may have an unusual heartbeat, too. Oh, low blood sugar. Can’t forget that one.

It really is getting warmer and drier each year. We don’t usually have windows open round the clock till around mid-June, but here it is, not even mid-May yet, and we’ve had them open for days.

Today’s Maliheh’s birthday and I’ve made sure not to wish her a happy birthday, of course. If she can forget my birthday I can forget hers. Only difference is that she forgot mine because she never cared enough to think of me by then in the first place, having realized she’d gotten what she wanted from me.

SUNDAY, MAY 12, 2013 I’m now starting to wonder if Mary’s claim of me supposedly having another blog to bash her in was bullshit. I first thought someone was impersonating me, but I can’t find anything and it’s not like you can deactivate on MO in a single click. You have to put in a request, which can take weeks. I have found nothing with my name or username like the one I have. So why would her little informant think it was me if nothing in my real name or username comes up anywhere?

If Molly’s been online at all, she hasn’t been to my blogs unless she’s keeping under radar, something I’ve never known her or her mother to do before. She’s probably forbidden to go to certain sites, especially ones where she does a little bashing of her own. I do have regulars in her state, but not her hometown or the one she’s been living in.

Had to block Lori again after stupidly unblocking her. While I usually prefer the more honest route, I chose to block her and let her think it was a glitch rather than unfriend her. If I unfriended her she’d want to know why and I don’t want to offend her or hurt her feelings by telling her she’s a fucking pest. Really, no one’s ever pestered me as much as she does. She rarely has anything interesting to say, she repeats herself over and over, and she just drives me crazy. She’s not unbalanced or anything. She’s actually a very nice woman. She’s ugly as hell, though. Typical of what I get showering me with so much attention. They’re always either crazy or ugly or both. I don’t need to ask her if she’s at least bi to know she has a thing for me. She made that plenty obvious. As I said, we all fantasize about someone being so into us that they follow our every move. Just not to the point of driving us crazy with 10 comments, 10 wall posts and 10 messages every single day! And when oh when are they going to be sane and smart??? They don’t have to look like they stepped off the cover of Vogue, but still… the same old shit gets old. Makes a person feel ugly and like that’s all they deserve the attention of, whether they’re happily married or committed or not.

Just minutes after I reconnected with her she managed to leave 5 posts and comments and a message in just a few minutes. I looked and found I could block her from seeing what others post to my wall since she loves to butt into my conversations with others, but I can’t stop her from posting or commenting on posts unless I block everyone from doing so. So that’s why I had to cut her off completely. She just won’t quit smothering me. A few times a week is one thing; a few times a day is another.

Had two dreams that we visited Tammy. Although my dreams don’t seem to mean shit anymore, it was a little alarming. For one, we wouldn’t visit her unless she couldn’t come here. If she couldn’t come here that would mean we really are trapped here indefinitely, although she could stay in a hotel. More than likely, though, it would mean she was too ill to travel. I also didn’t like how she shrunk down to nothing in my arms as we hugged each other when I arrived. She started off as her usual self, but then she was sickly thin when I pulled back.

Later…

“This is your home,” I keep trying to tell myself. “Accept it, love it, embrace it, and quit whining about what you can’t have instead of appreciating what you do have.” Yes, it’s scary to admit something up there can hate us so much that it feels we don’t deserve a home of our own no matter how goddamn hard we work and no matter how much we save, but I am still bound and determined to learn to make the best of it and focus on the good things. We may never have a home of our own that we truly love – just isn’t meant to be – but we will always have each other. Besides, a 55+ park would probably be even noisier than here with that many people that close together. Mutts barking out windows and while being walked would certainly have gotten really old really fast, and a community with on-site homes might’ve been even worse since they have yards there. They wouldn’t leave the dogs out overnight there, but what’s to stop them from doing so in the daytime? So maybe something’s actually looking out for us, IDK. I just know that it’s time to catch up on cleaning and shit like that, which I’ve stupidly neglected month after month, thinking we were getting out of here any day. We’re going to be here indefinitely. The sooner I accept that the better. Bringing myself to unpack things is going to be harder than cleaning but I can do it and I will do it.

I have been scolded for preferring to keep a journal publicly and told that it’s “sad.” And I am sad by the fact that so many people find my own personal choices and preferences sad. Aren’t there more important things to be sad about?

Actually, there is. What’s “sad” is that my husband and I can have 16K but no home of our own. The funny part was when we were out yesterday. On the way to and from Mel’s diner where he got an omelet and I got ribs, we went by some car dealerships. Some were used and others were for lease, but we were laughing at just how many of the cars we saw that we could up and buy outright if we suddenly wanted to. We are definitely, definitely not poor right now. Only in our living quarters are “poor,” LOL. The question is how long will we have money?

Another sad thing is how many people mention separate bank accounts from their spouses. I can see maybe one joint, one separate, but so many couples these days are so big on separatism and independence. What’s the point of getting married then? It used to be that what was his was hers and what was hers was his. But now most of society has decided that Tom’s money is HIS money, not OUR money. Does that mean I shouldn’t share my inheritance with him, or is it ok to do so because I didn’t work for that money? I can see having separate bedrooms for those who are light sleepers, separate baths, and separate vehicles, but the shit’s still BOTH of yours, for God’s sake! Shouldn’t what matters the most be that the couple has what they need and not which one “earns” it? It’s a good thing most marrieds are skipping kids these days. I would think this attitude would instill even more selfishness in what’s already enough selfish, spoiled little brats out there.

Yeah, it may be wrong not to work if both people are able-bodied and don’t really need the money, but if they’re happy and they don’t have a problem with it, then why should we? I just don’t get why it is that how other people live their lives can be more important to some people than their own lives, things that don’t even affect them personally.

I used to be guilty of worrying about others more than I should as well. For a while, I tried to encourage Andy to make more friends to fill in for when I wasn’t around on Ask since he’s more into the site than I am, but then I realized he’s a big boy. He can decide for himself when to make more friends and what kind of friends, just like I’ve decided (without guilt) that I don’t want to make additional friends. The cyber world isn’t much different than the real world. Most people suck shit on and offline with their phoniness, their lies and their judgmental ways. I’ve met a lot of sweet people that I hope to always be friends with, but the trolls and assholes out there aren’t worth the drama that would come with meeting more people.

I think that the only thing different about the virtual world is that we can’t physically reach out and touch the people we interact with. But other than that, what’s different about it? What’s really, really different about it than the real world? If anything it brings people even closer on a deeper, more personal level. I wouldn’t even know Nane existed if it weren’t for the internet. I used to write journals by hand when Andy and I lived in MA. He could’ve read it every time we got together, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as convenient as it is in cyberspace. He can go to my blog any time of day or night with or without me knowing about it. Those Fleetwood Mac pics he loves to collect; sure I’d see some of them on his walls when I’d be at his place, but when he has it as a background picture on Ask or a cover photo on FB it’s harder to miss. When I cut ties with him in 1999 (yes, I know I’m an asshole for it and some of you out there, even if it has nothing to do with you directly, can hate me all you want even though it’s been owned up to and apologized for years ago), it was easy to simply vanish into thin air without a trace. Online it’s different. You can delete and ignore people all you want, but if they really want to get at you, it’s a helluva lot easier to do so online. You can run, but you can’t always hide very well online if someone gets obsessed with you. If anyone knows this it’s me. But that’s my point. There isn’t much difference between cyber and reality. You just can’t hug, screw or kiss the person you’re in touch with.

SATURDAY, MAY 11, 2013 The blur of chocolate and vanilla fur rolling round and round as the rats play put a smile on my face, though I’m still in a foul mood. Still entertaining fantasies of making the streets of Auburn a little bit safer one pervert at a time, too. A perfect stranger donned a black robe 13 years ago and decided I was something I’m not. Cleared in the end or not, maybe I oughta live up to some of these false labels people like to stick on me. For now, does the spider I killed in the bathroom count?

Tom still wants to keep looking but I still don’t see why we should bother. It isn’t meant to be. I get that. I accept that. I don’t like it and I don’t get it but it is what it is. Everything’s either too expensive, too far, or we get outbid.

After a month or so I’d love to ask whoever got the place if the mutt next door barked that often, curious to see if it really would’ve been the problem I feared it would be, or if it was just an occasional thing.

So much for laughing at the idea of giving Jesse “bad news” soon. Yeah, you little pest. You ain’t getting your bad news anytime soon. Lucky you.

FRIDAY, MAY 10, 2013 I’m shocked, relieved and bummed out to say that we were outbid on the “barking” house. I figured that if the bastard above would be on our side with anything it would be with getting a noisier place since He seems to love to sic all kinds of extremes and flukes on me where that’s concerned. But now I know that it’s not about getting us into a less-than-ideal place, it’s about us owning. Period. The bastard doesn’t want us owning anything at all. I should’ve figured as much. Would He have seen to it that we lost two places in two states and have been renting for the last 9 years if we were meant to ever own again?

The realtor couldn’t tell us what the other people bid, of course, but she asked if we could bid higher and while we could’ve afforded to bid over the 15K, it wasn’t worth it for a 1977 place with no fridge/washer/dryer.

Tom said he’s actually thrilled because he couldn’t help feeling like it was a settlement. That’s WHY I went for it. I said to myself, well, we can’t get what we want, so let’s try what we don’t want. The house itself would’ve been ok, though a bit old and big, but I was very worried about the mutt barking out that side window every chance it got and a little worried about the field in back. It was just too close to the mainstream. Anything could’ve been going on back there and within the properties, you could just make out through the trees. Still, while you can get a place further away from the mainstream than that place was, whose place isn’t going to have mutts barking out its window if it can’t live outside? Almost no one chooses cats or to go petless over having a dog.

In some ways, the barking may be worse in those kinds of parks. You wouldn’t hear the same dog going off for 5 hours, but you’d hear more dogs more often as they were being walked down the street. Had they been allowed to keep them outside all the time, you’d hear the mutts next to you more often, but you’d never know Fido down the street existed cuz he wouldn’t be being walked by your house half a dozen times a day if he could just stay outside his own place 24/7. The only place that would’ve been peaceful (except for people stopping to pick up their mail) would’ve been the Newcastle place, but I knew good and well the bastard above that everyone thinks is oh so wonderful would never let us have that.

So when you can’t have what you do want and you can’t have what you don’t want, you’re obviously not meant to have anything at all. Tammy said if ever there was a loving couple that deserved a nice home, it’s us. But that’s just the thing. Our lovely God is backward. It’s those who don’t deserve things or don’t care one way or the other that are the ones being blessed with whatever. Nothing and no one is going to just give us a home and it seems we can’t bid on one either, so as I told Tom, I officially give up. I don’t want to look at any more places or even discuss them. This is where we were meant to be and this is where we’ll stay. Time to get real and focus on what is meant to be instead of striving for what isn’t, and focus on the positives of this place instead of always bitching about the negatives. Even though I barely have any room to unpack them in, the few bins of shit I so stupidly packed months ago will be unpacked and either set back up or thrown in drawers sometime next week. And I’ll just continue dealing with the slow-as-molasses connection. It hasn’t killed me yet. A lot of people in life don’t even have that much, and it’s still quiet here most of the time. I’ve lived in places MUCH noisier than this. The apartments I’ve lived in and the house in Phoenix were a total circus compared to this.

Even though barking is everywhere, I am a bit relieved because that mutt would’ve been even closer to us than Jesse’s mutts, and I never wanted to be flanked in like sandwich meat like that by other houses. They were probably closer than the welfare bums were to us in Phoenix, and we would’ve had neighbors on two sides instead of one. Here, I can breathe easier even if we may be cramped inside the place, and although I’d have been willing to give it up and use headphones, think I could’ve blasted my music there? Renting still has more advantages than owning. Especially when it’s getting harder and harder to get what your home is worth if you decide to sell it. What could we have gotten for that house if we sold it when he retired, 5 grand? 3 grand?

Tom thinks something up there was protecting us from making a mistake and feeling like we settled. I disagree. I think if it wanted to guide us to the right place it would’ve done so months ago. “We didn’t have the money months ago,” he said.

Fine. Let him waste his time looking for what doesn’t exist for us. I’m staying right here. That means getting on with my life… having the rest of my dental work done, getting my thyroid checked out, etc.

Later…

To think that something up there has had so much hate for me since I was a baby is a little scary. No, it’s a lot scary. If it’s really true that something up there plans what happens to us, I must’ve done something really horrible somewhere to have deserved the kind of childhood I had and the problems I’ve been faced with as an adult.

It hit me that thanks to being cursed with this sleep disorder, we couldn’t even have a dog of our own if we decided we wanted one. You kind of have to be available every day to let it out, you know? So the bastard has managed to take even that from me. So many opportunities and doors have been slammed in my face due to all the limitations this fucking thing has put on me.

Again, I’m just trying to focus on the good in life and to remind myself that being stuffed in someone else’s bummy old dive isn’t the worst thing in life. Another decade and we’ll try again when he retires. Probably get the hell out of the state. On life’s positive side, I have someone who loves me unconditionally, shortcomings and strengths. Unless they too, decide to dump me, I have good friends who at least seem to really care about me and accept me as I am. As far as I know, we are both in good health. As much as we are hated from above (especially me), money’s the last thing we need to worry about right now. So it isn’t all bad just because we can’t have a home of our own unless we want to settle for another dumpy old single-wide in a park that would actually make the “barking” place seem rather spacious.

[rewiredthethirdblog]

Comment by BeatricePotsmoker on Reddit

I said this the other day but I think I learned why rich people go.

I grew up crazy poor. When we had food, we got it from food stamps or these big government surplus boxes. Sometimes we didn’t have utilities. I had school shoes and by that, I mean I only wore shoes if I went to school. I had two passions: playing outside and books.

The weird thing about being super poor is that sometimes you own things that make you seem less poor. For example, my parents had a waterbed, a VCR and a cockatiel. I’m sure this sounds crazy if you didn’t grow up in the 80s but all these were seen as nice things normal, successful people had.

I’ve spent so much of my adulthood wondering: if we were so poor why did we have a little bit of nice stuff when we didn’t even have food? It turns out psychologists have done a lot of work on this, too, and the reasons are basically:

- [This article says people will forego nutrition for conspicuous consumption because they feel deprived and need to feel socially included.](http://www.ecineq.org/ecineq_paris19/papers_EcineqPSE/paper_241.pdf)

- [Other articles say poor people buy things with money they should be spending on other things because they are sad. Essentially, you get fatalistic about your chances of ever fitting in socially and not struggling.](https://business.time.com/2010/05/07/study-low-self-esteem-makes-you-more-likely-to-buy-luxury-goods/)

And you know what? It sort of makes sense. I mean, if you’re never going to be anything but struggling and life is always going to be shit, why *not* get a little squirt of dopamine the next time you have a little money and buy a cockatiel at the flea market? It will make you happy to see the bird and if you talk about it to your rich friends, they might see you as an equal. That would feel good.

So, anyway, I grow up. That love of books paid off. I did well, got some scholarships and got myself educated. Even went and got a doctorate and shit. I’m absolutely not rich by any stretch of the imagination but I think it’d be fair to say I’m solidly upper-middle class.

The thing is now that I really don’t want *things*. Collecting shit does not give me the same dopamine squirt it did when I was a kid. Maybe the cyclical pattern I saw my parents get us all in of ‘get something, feel good, feel poor, feel bad (but now with the added stress of having to feed a bird) and continue feeling worse’ broke my brain. That and I saw my parents’ chase for stuff didn’t help them. One killed themselves and the other became a bit of a hoarder.

The only thing that makes me happy now is feeling alive through experiences. It makes sense, I guess. I work *so much* that most of my life feels like drudgery. But man, do I feel good when I’m going out to a good restaurant, climbing something tall, or going on a fun trip. I also like bringing my friends with me to do fun things. If they can’t go, I love sharing pictures with them and talking about the experience again. It makes me feel alive. I’m not doing it to show off, it’s that reminiscing on the good thing makes me feel good again.

Even the Uber-rich cannot escape having a human brain. A human brain that gets sad, bored and scared. I’d anticipate - like my parents with the cockatiels - it gets harder to find the thing that might make you happy so you just keep trying.

But with them, it’s not buying or doing things *everyone else has,* the things that trigger that lizard brain all humans have are the things *no one* else has.

Does it seem gross for them to spend so much on an 8 hour excursion when that same amount of money would change someone’s life? Sure, but should we be disgusted with them for doing that any more than we should be disgusted with poor people for spending the money that could change their lives on dumb, conspicuous consumption shit that will someday make their homes so full of “treasures” they can barely walk around?

Everyone is just looking for something that makes them feel alive for a second.