#i have no more mice. but. one day there will be bunny. so i must think positive

[cerealmonster15]

today was Very Bad but you know who was there for me though it all??? cater diamond 😌

[kneelingshadowsalome]

König is, obviously, a big little freak. Do you think he'd feel flattered/lovestruck if a cute girl stalked and was obsessed with him or would he be weirded out? I think the first: for once he gets pussy and love without having to do anything. Also it'd be kinda funny if he didn't even notice his little admirer at first cause she doesn't register as a threat and he's too busy being broody and depressed cause he's so alone (while reader is in her apartment fantasizing about their future kids and drawing little hearts on a pic of him)

Ohhh yes. König being oblivious af, thinks this is simply a joke.

It started out in school: cute little postcards that had bunnies or kittens or flowers or hearts on them, delivered to him by his mom who was smirking about how her boy had a secret admirer. There was nothing fancy scribbled on the other side, just soft, silly messages like: "I like you!" or "Your cute" or "Luv u ♡", and König saved them all.

…Until he showed the postcards to the wrong “friends”, who only made fun of them. One of the boys told him they sent those cards to him as a joke because no girl could ever want him, and König believed them. Allowed himself one, maybe two tears in solitude before he threw those cards away.

What was odd, though, was that the cards still kept coming. He always threw them in the trash, and at some point while growing up, they stopped arriving. No cats or hearts or cute mice illustrations for him anymore, just loads of video games and internet and a growing interest in war history and gym.

He didn’t think much of it after the age of 17, just went to the army to make a man out of himself. Got laid for the first time, got bullied some more, grew some muscle and grew some balls. Got kicked out of sniper training, his one and only dream, and went back home to brood for a few weeks.

That’s when he received the letter.

A 5 page love letter, written in beautiful, whimsical handwriting, smelling of something so angelic that it drove even the eternal stench of gunpowder and rust and military storage away.

König gets plunged into a whole world of soft feminine attention without even asking to, the letter now placed on his old desk that’s too small for him to sit at anymore. The fragrant sheets of paper are filled with confessions of adoration and love and… it would be a little bit creepy, were he a man who fancied so-called normal women.

He goes to the attic, searching his old cardboard boxes for the postcards to compare the handwriting, but can’t find none, remembering that yeah… he threw all of them away, didn’t he? The handwriting wouldn’t match anyway, that much he can remember, but then again it was a kid who wrote to him back then. Now, his admirer is a grown woman who apparently got back on her obsession train once he visited his childhood home after years of living abroad.

The hair on his shins, arms and at the back of his neck shoots up as he realizes some woman has a crush on him, some cute girl has been watching him since day one. Those postcards weren’t a joke, so she must have gone to the same school as him… She might be the daughter of some of their neighbors, living right next to him even now.

König goes door to door in search of her, but only wrinkly elders arrive to tell him that no, they never had a daughter or granddaughter or if they had, they have long since moved out to some big city.

He goes through the letter once again but finds no clues to who she is or where she lives. It’s just pages and pages of flattery about how he’s still the man of her dreams and so much more. How he’s even cuter now that he looks like someone pissed in his cereal. She wonders if he’s built the same everywhere, and if he is, then she should say her evening prayers… Too many impure thoughts going through her head already, why does he have to be so handsome?

König is in hell, as always, desperately trying to look for his admirer when he goes out to take the trash. Visions of some girl touching herself at the thoughts of him pester him from sunrise to sunset, and he has to take a cold shower every morning simply because one wank doesn’t seem to be enough to tame the big fellow downstairs.

He hugs his pillow and dreams of his girl, someone sweet to wrap his arms around and to protect. He fantasizes of someone cute waiting for him, someone he could surprise every time he gets home, someone adorable to eat out until they sob and squirm. Until he gets the stench of death out of his mouth…

A message arrives on his phone from an unknown number, and at first he thinks it’s spam.

But when he opens the message, he’s met with two perfect bare breasts. So fucking cute, especially when they’re accompanied by a set of fingertips grazing her soft skin; König even notices she has red nail polish on. So adorably, incredibly cute…

There comes a text that says: “I thought of sending you another postcard, big boy… But perhaps you don't care for kittens anymore. Hopefully this will do? ❤️”

There’s no face reveal, just tits and a cute female hand laid out there before him. Just a text that confirms that she’s the one. Typing a quick reply, he sends it to the unknown number: “This will more than just do 😳❤️❤️❤️”

Without thinking, like, at all, he pulls out his already hard cock and takes a hurried picture of it with a trembling hand. He usually knows better than to send a dick pic to a girl, especially after exchanging less than two sentences with them. But hey, she started this. The least he can do is give her something to pray about (and for)..

So he sends that horrid picture of his ugly cock to his cute mystery girl before she can even type a reply to the first message, and asks: “Are we praying tonight, my lady?”

[livelist]

God bless your soul, honestly. But can you explain to me why this felt like your responsibility, more than, say, an explosion of rabbits in a similar space and timeframe? It's confusing to hear you simultaneously upset about the many births and the many deaths. Are cats not allowed to undergo predation? Were they not feeding the very same ecosystem they were feeding from? I understand it was very hard for you, but why undertake trying to control wild animals then?

I really don't want a future where all animals are either in enclosures or homes, seperated to prevent natural ecosystems that we find distasteful. I adore my little Zucchini, and keep her inside exclusively because we live in Urban/apartments, but I so wish for her that she could have had a life in nature, meeting other cats, hunting, breeding, and yes, experiencing danger. Cats are honestly just one small example of how humanity is continuously extending our reach and control over the Earth. How will it all end?

These are honest questions that cannot be answered on an individual basis. I know everyone is doing their absolute best to take care of the animals they steward in their homes and environment, but it is genuinely very difficult to know what the best way is. But we must also be willing to ask difficult questions about what we want humanity's impact on the Earth to be. Do we want animals confined to smaller and smaller spaces, eating only food we pre-kill and provide for them, unable to breed outside of our manipulation, never engaging with other species? Zoos only work as "protection and sustainability" if there will eventually be an ecosystem to return them back to. Are we committing the felis catus to a life indoors? That is a space they have only very very recently been confined to. Same with dogs, birds, fishes? How well are we able to replicate what animals need to thrive? We are barely able to create conditions for humans to thrive! Why are we assuming a sexless, threatless, huntless life is whats best for them? Simply because fewer die, but also fewer are born? Are we really so sure that a kitten, killed by a snake a month or two into its life, would rather never have existed? Again, why do we think its fine for a snake to eat birds, bunnies, and mice, but not cats?

Humanity has an existential and dangerous fear of death. This has lead us to push animal slaughter into the industrial shadows, out of average experience. As well as push human death into the institutional and sterilized environment of a hospital. I found myself shocked to realize that I eat meat and plants with no guilt, but feel deeply bad about killing a bug or even picking a wildflower or stomping grass. The alienation of humanity from death is causing environmental and sociological devistation, as we put the prolonging and protection of the individual human life over all other factors, including health, happiness, connection, sustainability, sanity, and more.

I’m sorry this has gotten so big and ranty. But I myself am struggling with these issues all the time. It is so painful to watch my beloved kitty go between laying under the bed and looking out the window every day, with the occasional break in routine of running as fast and chaotically around the room as possible. I start to feel crazy, anxious, and depressed after being stuck in this small space for only a day. She is only allowed to leave when she is stuffed in a carrier and moved to another small, inescapable room when we move every year or so. I suffer at the inhumanity of it all. I considered getting a chameleon but after hearing of someone who regretted it after feeling incredible guilt that all he wanted to do was stare out the window, I decided against it. It is honestly insane hubris to think we can create any substitute for the life they get in the wild.

I am not trying to guilt anyone for their choices: like I said, I love my exclusively indoor cat very very much. I know that if I dumped her in the wild in a fit of guilt she would certainly die. There are no easy answers in a world where our influence involves the rapid destruction of every single natural habitat on earth. But I know that if we continue our trend of increased control, one day we will be burdened with the consequences. Specifically, the few natural ecosystems we have left will be completely reliant on our support to stay alive, and we will not understand them enough to actually provide them with what they need to thrive. Will we one day have to seed clouds to keep the rainforest from turning to desert? Inject probiotics to keep soil from turning to dust? Is there any amount of support we can provide to undo the destruction that we have caused? And how much harder will that support be than the destruction was?

I’m sorry again, perhaps this was a talk that was better made for its own post than a reply on a well-intended post about cats. But this is the topic that brings these questions to my mind almost constantly. There are no easy or independent answers available. I know some people may get mad at me for even bringing all this up. But I hope anyone who reads this will lend me their honest and good-natured thoughts.

Blessings to all beings. Peace and love everywhere, forever.

i'll tell you what converted me to being all-in on keeping cats indoors only:

living for a year and a half in a rural area with a sudden feral cat colony explosion on the property.

i moved in with my folks for a bit and at that time, one (1) stray cat mama had taken up residence on the property, but was too feral to let my mother anywhere near her. but especially after she brought three kittens around, mom fed her and the kittens in hopes they'd grow trusting enough she could catch for spay and neuter at the minimum. momcat stayed mean and hella wary, but the kittens would hang around a little nearer and play with my mom via long stick, but still wouldn't come close enough to touch or catch.

unfortunately, two of the three kittens were girls and started having kittens of their own before further progress was made, shortly after i moved in. and that was pretty much instant doom.

there were so many kittens. SO MANY. multiple litters. every time we turned around, more kittens.

we fed them. we hunted for and located the kittens every time anywhere on the property and would move them to a repurposed doghouse anytime a mama cat had them somewhere else, so that they could grow up human-socialized and we could spay/neuter them when they were old enough. (also it was a handy tactic to push the issue of the mamas getting more used to/trusting of us themselves. only really worked with one of them, though.)

and we watched them die.

we watched litter after litter of kittens never make it to the age they could be spayed or neutered. the moms stayed, for the longest time, too skittish to more than briefly touch, much less catch and crate for a vet visit.

it sounds like a silly joke to say i have kitten-related ptsd, but i absolutely do.

too many goddamn times i'd walk out of the garage and find the carport and gravel drive strewn with tiny bodies. others simply went missing, never to be found.

one in particular, i wish i hadn't found, and the visual literally haunts me still, almost a decade later.

i saw so many kittens die of snake bite, spider bite, wild dogs, birds of prey, hit by cars, respiratory illness, covered in fleas and eyes crusted with infection.

and we loved them all. scrimped for antibiotics if the vet could be convinced to give it to us despite our being unable to bring them in. bought flea collars and ointments. we cared for them and fed them and petted them and played with them, brushed their fur and cleaned up their little faces, put ice in their water in hot summer, rigged a heating lamp in their house in the winter.

and they died. horribly. that property is pocked with unmarked graves of kittens and cats.

all the best intentions, not enough resources, and it didn't matter anyways because the population went from three to almost twenty (at times, over thirty) in the blink of an eye.

they died and died and died. our hearts broke over and over again. the stress and anxiety wore us down like sandpaper. i think, by the end of it all, we managed to find less than 10 of them all homes, including batman the disabled kitten i found a home across the country through tumblr.

it was carnage and tragedy, frankly. and we were helpless.

it only ended because they started dying faster than they could be born, and because we finally caught the two remaining mom cats in traps and got them spayed.

the points about outdoor cats being invasive predators devastating to local wildlife populations is true and valid and important.

but i know cat people, and cat people who don't know better than to let cats outdoors. what matters to you is the cat itself, generally. the cat being happy and taken care of.

keeping cats outdoors, letting them outdoors, is not taking care of the cats. it's not protecting them. it's not giving them any happiness or invigoration that couldn't be provided to them as indoor-only pets with just a little research and effort.

they die. they get ill. they get hurt. they're at risk of predators, and cars, and disease, and carelessly cruel children and deliberately cruel adults. they're at risk of disappearing on you because someone else saw a cat outdoors and intervened to give it a better, safer life not in conflict with the local environment.

and if that offends and angers you that someone would just take a cat they saw roaming outdoors, even collared, and that it sounds like i'm endorsing that, i am, but not if you intervene and be that person yourself for your own cat.

if what matters to you is doing right by your cat because it's family and a living creature whose happiness and health and safety is important to you,

keep them indoors. not part time. always. exclusively.

[jodilin65]

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1997 I guess I’ll do some writing now. Let’s see…Mary and Dave came over to get Tom’s bed. I was asleep while they were here, but Tom showed them the animals. I’m glad that they finally got to see them and the way things are now set up. Especially Mary.

Ma gave us one of her recliners and this thing isn’t just a recliner. It’s a massage recliner. The seat and the back vibrate. It’s really nice and we needed it, too, cuz the recliner that goes with this couch has really fallen apart. It’s out on the patio till it’s time for the city to pick it up (we’ll have to look on the calendar to see when that is) and the cats are using it for now at night.

Speaking of cats, we discussed getting a trap to trap Mama Cat and then bringing her to wherever. That way we won’t have to deal with so many litters and I won’t miss this wild, mean bitch of a cat.

That we know of, they still haven’t been a problem as far as loud music is concerned but I heard other sounds at 11:30. It was the sound of plastic and metal scraping along their back patio. Something big and plastic, too, but the metal might’ve been the dog’s chain. I got the impression that whoever it was, was pissed and hoping to wake someone up over here, but who knows? I also still have my doubts as to the city contacting them. I think that as soon as they got the letter, it went into the garbage.

I changed the mice’s setup around again a while ago and what a cute show Tom missed! The babies were all bouncy, hyper and playful. It was so cute and as for the adults, Ziggy’s a playful one, too, and jumps around when she’s happy like Bunny and Spunky do. Unfortunately, I’m not as happy as my animals are. I haven’t full-flowed yet, but have upgraded to spots and a bit more cramping. The thing about it is the reality of knowing that there’s no way I could be pregnant and that I will have a full flow within the next 24-48 hours. God, why must you torture, control and deprive me of following my dream and my every instinct!? When it comes to something more than just hobbies, pets and marriage, can we ever agree on what I want? Like I said, if I woke up wanting to do anything else just as bad, God would see to it that I couldn’t do it.

This really, really is gonna be how the rest of my life is gonna be. This really is gonna be an issue all my life and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. My husband will always stall and make excuses for why we should wait to see a doctor. There’s always one more thing we’ve got to give a chance. One more thing that’s just got to be the answer. Well, this is bullshit and I’m sick of it. And he’s not the only one afraid of a doctor. We’re just afraid for different reasons. He doesn’t want to go to a doctor cuz he doesn’t really want a kid or to discuss our sexual relations with strangers. I’m afraid of what God would do to me for going against him and I’m also virtually certain that there’s nothing they could do for us. First of all, they couldn’t make Tom cum regularly. Secondly, if they could make me pregnant by some procedure, how can they make me stay that way for 9 months?

I feel totally alone here. I feel as if Tom just doesn’t want to deal with it and never has and never will. All he does is tell me year after year that things will work out and where are we now? Just where we’ve always been. The only change is that he’s cum occasionally for the last year and a half, and we share a bed. That’s better than nothing, but it’s not enough. And I still say that he could cum every day, but - something’s wrong with me. Even though he hasn’t cum but maybe 15 times, those 15 shots and all the years of precum should’ve done the trick by now. Nobody could miss it like this if they tried.

When they begin fertility testing on a woman, they usually start by sticking a dye up there. I don’t know what this dye is supposed to test, but usually, that’s all you need. If I heard right, the most common cause of infertility in women is clogged fallopian tubes. I’m not stupid, though, and I know my problem goes way beyond just clogged fallopian tubes. God will do anything and everything to ensure I never have a child.

Even if it does get easier with time, it’s still hard enough and it eases up so gradually. I feel like it’ll take 10 years to pass by before I can really live with it without it getting me down once every month or two like it does.

Tom just got up, so I feel a bit better. He reminded me that the primary reason for us switching insurance, as well as getting the bed, was so that we could do something if we need to, but meanwhile, let’s just have fun throughout December. It sounds good, but I’ve heard things like this before.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 1997 Just when I think my periods are out of new tricks to pull, they pull new ones. The night before last, I had faint, light, microscopic beginnings of a period. The kind that is even smaller and less apparent than spots. They’re more like a milky reddish-pink color and you really have to strain your eyes to see any of these kinds of spots. Well, never has my period tried to begin, then had 48 hours go by without a full flow by then. I had had cramps, too, but even those have eased up. My boob soreness has eased up a bit, but not much. I wish I could say it was a baby and that God never did intend to deny us a child and that he was just waiting for the right time and that the sudden ability to quit smoking and the new bed really was a stage set for a baby after all, but dreams are just that - dreams.

Speaking of the bed, though, I had been all bummed out and frustrated, feeling like we made a mistake and that it could never work out. Tom said that it’ll take time, but that I’ll adjust to sleeping in it together and I guess he was right on that one. He got into bed with me already asleep in it and didn’t wake me up!

Thank you, freeloader. I was just about to forget to update him, but he just reminded me to with a good, deliberate, hard slam of his car door. As far as we know, there hasn’t been any music, but again, is this cuz of the dog? Cuz of some other reason? Cuz of the city letter? I highly doubt the city contacted them and I still don’t think they ever will. Either way, though, the music will be a problem again, as always, in just a matter of time. That’s when I’ll make my final move and never have to worry about it again and it’ll never be a problem again.

Andy went out of his way to make an extra trip over here, which was nice. I had thought we wouldn’t exchange stuff till we saw each other again. However, he dropped off some coffee coupons and some clothes Laura didn’t want and put them out back while I was asleep. The clothes were mostly tank tops and halters and I like just about all 10 pieces or so, except for a couple of sweaters.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1997 I was pleasantly wrong when I said it’d be a not-too-peaceful day. It’s been quite peaceful and I slept just fine. The freeloaders actually went elsewhere for Turkey Day. I heard them come in at 10:30 PM (no music). I’m just glad Thanksgiving isn’t in the summer, cuz then they probably would party hearty. I used to like the summers best of all cuz it’d drive everyone indoors but not these freeloaders. They’re out and about more when it’s hot and their dog will bark more, too, when the summer nights return.

Tom set up the satellite dish and I really like this Direct TV a lot. It’s really cool and you set up things on a screen that’s a lot like a computer. It is simpler for the most part, but there are so many different things you can do and so many different ways to do them. My favorite part of it is the '70s and '80s commercial-free radio stations. On-screen it says the title/artist, but I run audio tapes on his stereo that’s hooked up to it and record stuff. Then I screen them and pick out anything I may want.

I asked Tom, “So, is this gonna be my last period for about a year?”

He said, “That’s what I th-yes.”

Well, that sounds awfully unsure and suspicious. I know he’s full of shit, but anyway, my period hasn’t shown up for real, if you know what I mean, but I’m sure it’ll be more than a faint spot or two when I next wake up.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 1997 Had another weak/spoiled spell a little while ago, but as with cigarette cravings, baby cravings pass, too, if you tough them out. Like my mother has to believe the DES saved my life for her mental peace of mind, I have to believe I don’t deserve a child. In a way, this is true, though. I’m blessed with enough things so what’s to say I really do deserve one? I also have to believe that God does know best and is doing what’s right and that he’s not just punishing me. I have to believe he’s just looking out for me and doing what would be in the best interest of any child we could’ve ever had. So when it gets tough, I just tell myself that I’m not worthy of it, nor could I have ever handled it.

Speaking of babies (all mice deserve babies over a few of us humans, huh?), one of Ziggy’s babies wandered out of the burrow. I picked it up for a while and am calling it Spot since its tail has a few faint spots on it.

I guess Teddy Bear’s getting old. He came down earlier, but he wheels less and less and spends the bulk of his time sleeping his life away up in his high-rise.

Later…

See? The desire to have a child is getting less and less and not lasting as long when they do come. I feel much better. I just reminded myself of what my life would be like with a child and what a shitty mother I’d be, and now I feel better. It’s been the longest time since I’ve shed tears over it. Just when it seemed like it would never get easier to deal with and stay that way, it finally is. Meaning, since knowing Tom, I’d say that fall of this year, was when it started getting noticeably easier. It’ll keep getting easier with each year, too. I still intend to be strong and be totally over it someday, too. Lastly, I must really, really love my husband. I already forgive him for the pregnant-in-December-for-sure lie.

I told Tom about yesterday morning’s barking fit and how the dog ran down the end of the driveway, but he doesn’t think the leash is extended that far. He thinks that the only reason I saw the dog was cuz it got loose and that it can’t reach our house. Well, maybe they do keep it in the yard at night after all, cuz the freeloader didn’t park his car deep into the carport tonight. I peeked out and saw its tail end sticking out of the carport and if there was a dog leashed to it, I didn’t see it.

Later…

I’m kind of bummed out right now. You could say it’s part PMS, part life.

God seems to want me to only sleep straight through for a few days at a time, then I gotta get woken up. Just 3 hours into my sleep, Tom accidentally woke me up as he was setting up the satellite for Direct TV. His end of it was an accident, but how much God-influence was there? After a while and two Benadryl’s, I fell back asleep. He woke me up again when it was his bedtime, but I had had enough sleep by then. I know that his climbing into bed after me is gonna wake me up, but if only I could know that I could go back to sleep. I don’t think I can and furthermore, I’ll be woken up numerous times after that when he moves and snores. I kind of think this bed was a mistake and that we threw away $1000 when what we should’ve done was get two twin beds and lay them side by side. Maybe normal isn’t so nice after all.

I guess that if there are any signs or messages in the fact that I’ve been woken up more in the last few weeks than I have in the whole year, it’s God reminding me that I could never handle getting up every hour for a baby, so don’t think that just cuz I quit smoking, he’s gonna change his mind and reward me with that. Oh, there’s no way in hell I could handle having to constantly get up for a crying baby (even though I still kind of wish he’d let me have a kid and make me be able to handle it), but still, that choice should’ve been mine. Maybe I’d have been wise enough to do the right thing on my own and not get pregnant, but God never even gave me that choice. Instead, he made my decisions for me, as far as if I’ll ever have a kid.

Speaking of rewards, well, I know this will sound selfish, but I was hoping that God would give me some kind of reward for quitting smoking. Quitting smoking is the hardest thing I ever did. It’s a daily challenge that I’ll have to live with every day for the rest of my life if I continue not to smoke. I understand he can’t give me a child for it, but what about letting me be thin again? What about being a heavier sleeper, so I could sleep through more noise and Tom’s movements? What about a better and full-time sex life? It’s like he just doesn’t care. He hasn’t even noticed that I’ve quit smoking.

Another thing on my mind is Tom. How can anyone be so loving and be such a bold and casual liar at the same time? Knowing my husband’s about to hurt me yet again with his lies, is something I’m used to, but I still don’t like it. A part of it is my fault, too, for letting him set me up to play me for the fool that I’ll be throughout December. When it comes to certain things, my husband will always say what I want to hear, even if it’s bullshit.

Not that I’d ever have the guts to see a doctor about my sterility since you can’t fight fate, but it still hurts me to know that Tom will always be in denial and won’t admit that there’s a problem with the sex and with me physically, and therefore, I’d never have had the slightest shot at a child, anyway. What I don’t know is - what’s he gonna change his “everything will work out and we’ll have a kid” line to when I’m out of my childbearing years? Let me guess - it’ll be - “There was just no opportunity!”

I wonder something, too. Could Tom be taking any kind of spermicide drugs? I can’t think of what he could take while keeping it discreet from me, but you never do know.

I wish to hell my schedule was on days. Those freeloaders are never gonna let me sleep tomorrow!

Later…

My period is just beginning so I won’t be feeling so out of it for too much longer. Boy, God just does not want us to hit it right for sure! I know, I know, I couldn’t handle it anyway and he doesn’t want to help me be able to handle it, let alone be able and allowed to conceive.

The HS sent more address labels. A couple of different dog pictures and a couple of different cat pictures.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 1997 Yup, these fuckaroos next door are definitely afraid of someone. And they’re afraid for their physical selves a lot more than the house. Cuz if they were afraid for the house, they could have the dog be able to reach all points of the house during the daytime, too, but instead, they have it in the backyard only. At night, it’s chained to the car and it can reach just about all 4 sides of their house and I was wrong when I said it couldn’t. Get it? As if to keep someone they fear away from them.

Although these are the kinds of people that tend to attract many enemies, the only one I can think of that they could be afraid of is me. It’s been said that when I verbally let someone have it, that’s scary enough with my loud, viscous mouth and my temper being the way it is, and this dog first arrived right after I screamed at them last summer. So they didn’t just get the dog to piss me off, they got it for protection.

At 6:30 AM it went on a barking spree and for the second time that I know of, it went charging down the driveway, then came back up again. Shortly after, I heard a car door that suggested they put it in the backyard for the day.

Well, the knowledge that it could roam the front wall of our house if it wanted to scares the shit out of me and I wonder just how legal this is, too. I also wonder if there’s some other reason for this besides any fear they could have. Are they hoping it bites us? Or are they trying to make it more tempting for me to hurt the dog so they can go to court? Well, if it came on our property and hurt us here, we have a right to kill it.

Thank God I’m caught up on my sleep, since Thursday’s Turkey Day. He lives here, that’s a holiday, which means it’s gonna be anything but peaceful around here.

Later…

The Sony Satellite dish came today and I got another 80s CD, too.

Boy did I count wrong! I couldn’t see Shy’s babies too well in the burrow that they’re in and with the adults sitting on them. However, I got a glimpse of them just now and there are way more than two babies. More like 6 babies! And Cocoa’s definitely next. She’s starting to show now and is having trouble climbing.

We could have mice for the rest of our lives at this point.

Ziggy’s two are starting to move around now, but they haven’t wandered out of the burrow yet.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 1997 Shy had her babies. It looks like there are two of them, but I can’t tell for sure and I don’t want to go poking around and disturbing them. Same rule applies - gotta leave them alone for a couple of weeks. This is perfect timing, though, since I just cleaned their cages. I could work around them, though, like I just did. As when Ziggy had her two, Cocoa and Ziggy are helping Shy out and they’re all cleaning them and sitting on them to keep them warm in shifts. Shy had hers where Ziggy’s babies are. I thought she’d either have them there or in the maze. Anyway, if they want them moved, they can pick their tails up in their mouths and move them. The first batch is really starting to look like teeny tiny mice now and their eyes are just starting to open.

There’s no way I could be blessed with these babies being females like the adults are, so I’ll have to do some decision-making in a couple of weeks. Even though their living quarters could hold 100 mice, more like 15-20 mice are enough for me and would be nice, but I’ll have to keep it at just the 3 adults, plus whatever babies are female, and give the males to pet stores. Or maybe we can let the population grow to 15-20, then give to pet stores anything else after that. If I did that, though, the fathers would have to be separated from the babies cuz they’d eat them. Gross!

I just realized something about the freeloader. Naturally, I know that the reason why I’m not seeing a car there overnight since the dog’s return is cuz it’s deep in the carport cuz the dog’s rigged to it. Its leash, according to Tom is about 25’ long. Well, I was wondering how in one bark it could sound like it was in the carport, then sound like it wasn’t in the next bark. Well, it’s become obvious that only when they’re asleep, they’ve got it rigged to the car, but not with just a few feet of slack like it did when I went off about its 2 AM fit. Now it’s got an extension. Not 25’, of course, cuz then it could reach our doorstep and they certainly wouldn’t want that. However, they’ve got it so that it can just get to the front wall of their house. This is something they’ve never done till after the screaming match, so maybe I’m not the only one who’s not living in peace. Maybe they fear me doing something to the house or the dog and feel safer if the dog can cover more wall space of the house. Or they may want me to do something, as I said, to have an excuse to drag me into court. They can’t care that much about this dog and them ditching it cuz of the work they did over there is another thing proving that (unless she’s not supposed to have a dog), cuz they could’ve kept it in the house, then taken it out front or down the street to do its job. Anyway, maybe they really are afraid of me and just like I live in stress cuz of them, they live in fear cuz of me.

I hear the mice squeaking now. Yes, they make those sounds, too, but it’s more like a soft, high chirp actually.

My tits are so, so sore and I’m glad I only have 4-6 days before I get some relief. Of course, if I get relief on Saturday when no fertile woman should who has a guy get off in her 14 days prior like I did, Tom will still be running around saying everything’s OK. Fine. Let him.

Later…

The more I think about this fuck-up for a mailman we’ve got, the more I wonder if the Nicorette people will cancel the next two things I’m supposed to get in the mail or not. All cuz of someone’s lack of caring and hastiness to not read properly. So that’s what he’s doing now, huh? Instead of giving us other people’s mail, he’s giving other people our mail.

Later…

Some lonely dude, desperate for attention went blaring down the street so incredibly loud a couple of hours ago. Even louder than next door.

I’m pleased to say that I did get what I was supposed to get from the Nicorette Company today after all. I guess I was a week off in assuming when it’d be here. Anyway, it said: Congratulations Jodi, you made it 6 weeks! It also had tips on cutting back on the Nicorette gum.

I talked to Paula a couple of days ago, too, who was telling me how condemned it was where she was living when she was living in Puerto Rico. Justin’s father is from there, so they lived out there for a few months. The father’s back in the States now, too.

I’ve still been getting fairly regular messages from my folks, which is nice. She’s gonna be sending Tom out something soon.

I offered my parents the address and number at Mary’s and she said to send it, so I did. They know, though, that the house hasn’t been sold yet and that she’s not completely moved into Mary’s yet. When Ma does put the house up for sale, it should go fast, cuz she’s not asking for much for it. It’s a tiny rundown place, anyway, and just like Oswego Street was in Puerto Rico, her place is in Mexico. It’ll almost certainly be a Mexican family with 9 little kids that’ll move into her place, so I hope she’s not gung-ho about having Tom fix up too much of it. A Mex will take anything and besides, they’ll only tear the place up.

Again I woke up at 113, but I know I’m not gonna be losing weight. First off, I just don’t “feel” like I’m going to and second off, the way it fluctuates from 113-115 tells me I won’t. Usually, when I go to lose weight, it drops to whatever and stays there for a while. Then it drops again to stay for a while, and on and on. However, I’m just bouncing back and forth on a steady plateau.

When I look at how Cocoa’s looking lately, I wonder if there’ll be any more “mice droppings” but we’ll see.

I began to have a spoiled/weak spell yesterday about the kid I’ll never have. It’s sort of like cigarette cravings, though, and if I just tough it out, it’ll pass. Just like the reality of why I shouldn’t smoke helps me, the reality that I could never handle a child helps me, too.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 1997 That fucking mailman! Never have I had such a mail problem in all the places I’ve lived. During week 6 of quitting smoking, I was supposed to get another mailing from the Nicorette company, but I never got it.

Anyway, to get the freeloaders updated and out of the way first, the music hasn’t been much of a problem yet and the dog’s been better than expected. This is all subject to change, I know. That dog came in here as not much of a big deal, then became a big deal, and is now back to being more tolerable.

I am not looking forward to Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s around here. Cuz he’ll be next door, it’ll be wild with visitors. Last year was peaceful, but that’s cuz he wasn’t living here for those holidays.

Andy and Michelle came to get the waterbed today and tentatively, Mary will be getting the other bed next Saturday.

The security door’s here too, but of course it’ll be a month or more before Tom can put it up. Things have been hectic, and there are never enough hours in at least Tom’s day. He’s also always tired still and complains of something new hurting him every day. All this has me more and more comfortable with my sterility and with the fact that my husband’s a joker. I am getting - shall I say - to like myself as a whole more and more. As I learn to accept and like myself, sterility and all, I feel more confident as a sterile/childless woman. More so than I have since knowing Tom.

As I may have said before, I may wonder periodically throughout our lives what life with a child would’ve been like (except for the obvious parts of that), and I may still want a child to a degree, but I have enough responsibilities and he has more than enough, and I want him to be as happy as he can be. I also think that people should have some things that they want, be it a little or a lot, that they just can’t get. Cuz that way, it keeps us from becoming too spoiled/selfish, to not have everything we’ve ever wanted. People like the sick fucks next door must be used to having most everything their way.

Our schedules are still opposite each other so we haven’t really slept together yet, so I don’t know if it’ll work out well. I don’t expect it to be fun, therefore, I may not bother to try to always be on his schedule. That way, I can catch up on my sleep when his schedule’s different than mine.

Friday night we went out to Old America where I got two puzzles and two more drawing books to use as demos. Since I’m naturally good at things like flowers and cartoon characters, and am not as good at people and realistic animals, these are the things that the books pertain to.

Shy’s gonna drop babies any second now, so I created a really neat setup for all the mice and T-Bear. T-Bear now lives with the big guys. I have a strip of solid wood that I’ve got going across the hutch. Resting on this is the smallest Play City cage. On one side of it, I have a hideaway and a high-rise stemming off. On the other side, is a long tube that goes down into the hutch where the big wheel is. The tube goes behind Spunky’s burrow, making it less accessible for the big guys to chew on.

I moved the babies under a burrow in the cage that is above the aquarium. I thought that they’d all be comfier there and there I can get a stable water supply. I can also get a stable water supply in the other cage, but not in the aquarium. The Velcro that’s supposed to hold the bottle holder to the corner sides is just too worn out.

I also shredded paper and put clumps in each corner of the maze and it was so cool how they dragged it all to the center of it. I did this so that Shy would have a nest of her own to use for her babies if she wanted to.

Cocoa and Ziggy move around to all parts of their 3 houses and maze, but Shy won’t be getting around till she delivers.

Is this nose of mine ever gonna feel the effects of not smoking as my lungs have? Better to have clearer lungs than a clearer nose. I know it’s allergy season out here and it’s better than wheezing like hell, but my nose is really no different than when I smoked.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 1997 Something must be going on a few blocks or so away. It sounds like a fucking kennel out there.

The freeloader is up to his usual shit. Slowly building up his music volume. Typical freeloader never fails, does he? He’s quiet for 3 days after he’s asked to lower his music and then it’s back to the same old shit. No wonder so many people hate freeloaders. They just don’t give a shit about anyone but themselves.

He left at noon with it at a mediocre volume, but I know that by this weekend it’ll be blaring and he’ll sit and play it in the driveway.

I told Tom just two weeks is all he’s getting. Then when nothing solves the problem, I will. In a way, this is my fault too, cuz I should’ve taken care of this problem nearly two years ago when it began. Like I said, when it comes to accomplishing some things in life, it’s up to us and us alone to accomplish them.

Up till yesterday, it seemed like we had swapped off here. The dog hasn’t been that big of a problem yet, but my hopes of not having to deal with both the music and the dog were obviously a waste of time. I wondered if it could have anything to do with the city contacting them, but no way. First of all, the city’s either never going to contact them about it, or they’ll just turn around and respond to us saying there’s nothing they can do. Secondly, even if it were possible that the city could and would do something about it, it would take a while.

The bottom line is this - the city can’t stand guard in their driveway all the time to make sure the music’s down or that he isn’t living there, but I can come close to doing that. I don’t give a shit whether or not he lives there. All I give a shit about is the music.

A couple of days ago, Tom bought us a few goodies. We got a new VCR, but the satellite dish hasn’t arrived yet. When it does, though, I won’t have to go through the hassles of programming anymore when I want to set up the timer to record something. All I’ll have to do is select what I want to record from the screen.

He also got some new dusters for me, since the ones we had got old and grubby. This set is really cool too, cuz it has a handle you can attach to two of the dusters to reach up high. The two regular-size ones are red and purple and then there’s a little pink duster.

He got a pool brush for when we clean the sides of the pool.

We got another sound machine for the back room. This one’s a little different but has basically the same sounds. The only thing I don’t like about it is that it’s not very loud.

He fixed his ma’s car yesterday. Till that one or his breaks down again in a month or so.

Later…

Another thing Tom picked me up the other day was a thing called Fen-Fen. It’s supposed to be an all-natural appetite suppressant. So far it does seem to be curbing my hunger, and I’ve gone from 116 to 113, but I’m certainly not gonna get my hopes up about it yet.

Now for the best news yet - the bed got here! Finally! We still haven’t slept together yet, cuz our schedules don’t match up, but last night was the first time in several nights that I slept 8 hours. I did wake up to pee once, but I fell right back asleep. So, the bed’s really nice, but I’m not sure how sleeping together will go. Yes, it’s much more stable than a regular bed, but it’ll still take getting used to. It’s great to be able to just walk right up to the bed, instead of having to get onto it at the foot of it or by climbing over another bed.

It was a real pain in the ass to drain the waterbed and it also took a couple of hours to set up this new one, so we had our work cut out for us.

I don’t have my side too soft, cuz then when I sit up, my ass is on the decking below it. I have it in between and I also put the foam pad on that had been on the waterbed. I like smoothness as well as softness and this bed’s mattress is a little lumpy.

Anyway, this Sunday Andy and Michelle will be coming over in her ma’s truck to get the waterbed and give us the door. At least, I think it’ll be this Sunday.

This was just all talk at this point, but according to Tom, there’s a place called New River just outside of Phoenix that might be a good place for us to live. It’s weird here, but the further out you live, the cheaper it is. So, we could get a chunk of land that’d be cheaper than this place and it wouldn’t matter how big the town grew since they can’t build up to within a few feet away from us. We may have to take a dumpy house with it, but in time we could maybe build our own.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1997 Let me get the better or trivial things out of the way before I get to the shitty news.

I called to say hi to Paula, but there was no answer. Of course there wasn’t. The kid wouldn’t be there now.

Andy still leaves his daily 3-minute messages, which is the maximum each message can be, telling me how much he loves his job. I’m happy for him. Now that he’s got the car and job, I hope he gets the guy, but I don’t know.

I talked to Tammy a little while ago and she hasn’t quit smoking, but I told her to keep trying.

We went and played miniature golf yesterday. As usual, he kicked my ass, but we had fun.

Then we went to the library. It was a branch neither of us had been to before and it was weird looking. It was quite noisy, too, what with the handicapped people there. I don’t know if they had MD, or if they were retarded, had autism or what, but they were kind of loud with their hoots and howls. I got 5 books since I’m picky about what I read. The first one I tried, I couldn’t get into, but the second one’s great.

I was just out feeding the cats and refilling the cats and Bunny’s water supply. They’re all getting braver by the day, but of course, White Feet’s still the bravest and the friendliest and she even took a treat out of my hand the other day. I also play with the kittens, too, with yarn and balls.

Ma sent a message about her and Dad’s trip. I guess they were unfortunate enough to have to spend most of it with leg pain and arthritis pain and on the phone with their suppliers.

My other Mom has decided that that’s it, she’s ready to move. So she’s getting rid of a lot of her stuff and yes, the house will be sold at some point. I’m happy that she made this decision and is able to see that she just can’t live alone anymore. I’m sure that her moving into Mary’s and selling the house will make it easier for everyone.

From what I hear, Ma’s sister Margaret is still up to her same old crazy shit. She had to sleep in the tub with the water running on her feet, to ward off evil spirits.

The letter to the city went out yesterday and Tom did a fantastic job with it. Even though I know that nothing will come of this letter, especially anything good, it was so very well written. In fact, he did a much better job than I could’ve done.

OK, here’s the shitty news, even though I knew this was coming - it’s back. The fucking beast next door has returned and now I can kiss the peaceful nights goodbye. See, I don’t trust Tom when it comes to next door. He said that he was sure the dog wouldn’t come back, so when he says that, and that they’re not deliberately pissing me off, and that there’s something that can be done about the music and the dog too, I don’t buy it. In the end, the only person who can do something about the dog and music will be me. The dog’s return, however, may curb the music somewhat. Remember, by them and by God, it has to be one or the other. I wondered when he blared that music so incredibly loud a few days ago if he were trying to tell me something. He was trying to tell me that the dog would be returning. Then he escalated the music till making the switch back to the dog. I don’t know if he won’t stick me with both this time, but we’ll see. Yes, I still would take the dog over the music since the dog couldn’t wake me up, but this shit’s bad enough. I’m so fucking sick of these people and this city. I love Arizona and yes, this city’s got a lot of nice things about it that puts Springfield to shame, but I’ve also come to hate this city with a passion. Here, you either live in houses a few feet apart or out in nowhere land. There’s no happy medium. It really sucks that if you live in a house out here, and if you’re neighbors want a dog as part of their lives, it has to be a part of your life, too. I can’t look forward to my dusk-to-dawn peace anymore when I’m up at those times. That’s all gone now. It’s daytime now, so the fucking beast is quiet, but dogs don’t break routines too easily (look how long it took the guard dogs to quit their late-night barking) and I know that from around 6 PM-2 AM, it’s gonna be non-stop barking. If only these dogs could do their barking on the same shift, but not a chance. Each dog has their own way, and trust me, when the guard dogs can’t be heard, it’ll be next door’s turn to bark, and vice versa. Tom says that in a week or two tops, the night barking will stop and by the time it gets hot again, it’ll be settled in and will be no worse than the guard dogs. Bull fucking shit. I’m sorry. I love my dear hubby, but he’s dead wrong.

Anyway, the depression, anger, and frustration over it, can really have me stressed. I have to have fans on all night cuz these freeloaders say so and cuz they have to force their dog on me. And God won’t let me fight back, either. If I were to stick a source of noise on them that was 3 feet away from them or wake them up, I’d get holy hell for it from God and have my sleep taken away and have more things go wrong, but meanwhile, they can do whatever the fuck they want to me and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

I know now that they’re not moving. Not for a very long time, anyway. Each day my feelings get stronger and the weaker any vibe gets about them moving. They ain’t going anywhere.

It’s quite a coincidence that even though I knew this dog would return, it returns the same day Tom sends a letter about the music. As if God’s reminding me that if I fuck with him/fate, I’ll be compensated and made to pay for it. If there was such a thing as this letter being effective with the music, they’d just go out and get more dogs, with God’s help. Or they’d just have to have more company and maybe use that basketball hoop some more.

Later…

When I mentioned that I’ll be getting a period in two weeks that I shouldn’t be getting, Tom said, “Who said anything about November? I told you December and that hasn’t changed, so there should be no question about getting a period in two weeks.”

There shouldn’t be? Does he know something I don’t? I’m sorry, but any normal woman who got a squirt when I did, should more than likely be pregnant. But I’m not pregnant and I’d like to know how many more years it’ll take for Tom to see the reality of the situation. And I’d also like to know how and why he can sound so sure about this December crap. I mean he really, really sounds so damn sure of himself. Has he gone that much further into denial, or does he really know something I don’t? Has he really held back all this time, just waiting for what he thought would be a great time to squirt like hell? If so, I’d rather that that be the case, than this yearly denial thing. His knowing the truth won’t undo the truth, but it’d still help me, nonetheless. This doesn’t mean I’d ever have the guts to see a doctor about it, cuz I know what God would do to me if I got by him (not that this is something I could get by God on). I still say it’s what my gut instinct first told me - he’s afraid to cum much cuz he fears a child. Therefore, we can’t worry about my being afraid to see a doctor when he won’t cum but once every few months anyway. He’s much too smart to be naïve, so I’d say he’s pulling my leg about the bed being a magic cure and he knows it, too.

Still, what the hell is going on here? I just wish I knew what was really going through Tom’s mind and heart. Well, the bed should be here this week, so it’s just a matter of time now that I’ll be seeing just whatever it is that he’s gonna do. That is if that bed makes it here for sure without any more stalling.

Later…

Tom went to bed a little while ago and I began my new exercise plan, which I’ll explain after.

As far as how I knew the beast was back. Well first of all, when houses are just a few feet apart from one another and no one takes their dogs indoors, it’s no secret for more than 5 minutes, but I knew it before I heard it. Yesterday afternoon at around 4:00 I heard the little girl and the asshole in the backyard. Knowing they were not big on cooler weather and that it was a very odd time to be having company, I knew they had to be setting up stuff for the dog, like food and water. And then I heard it bark away. I looked out front expecting to not be able to see the car and I got what I expected. He’s gonna park deep in the carport again. Especially at night, so they can rig the thing up to the car in regard to me. Yup, these assholes really want to instigate shit and provoke me. Well, when I can convince Tom of how useless the letter will be, they’ll get what they want from me, only much much worse.

My vibes when it comes to them are pretty darn accurate. I guess we all have our weak spots and our hot spots when it comes to vibes, but like with the kid, I seem to be right on mostly when it comes to these sick fucks. So, trust me when I say that the letter’s already either in the garbage or filed away somewhere way out of the way, they’ll be here for quite a while longer, and that the dog and music will be a problem unless I do something about it myself.

I asked Tom if the city decided not to ignore the letter and if we’re right about how he’s not supposed to be there if he thought he’d end up leaving. He said yes, for a while. That’s true. The for a while part. I’m sure it won’t come to his leaving unless they have a fight which doesn’t look likely lately, but if he does leave, you’re talking just 2-3 months. Meanwhile, I’m sure his frequent visits would be made known to me. Very well known.

I asked if he thought it was his dog or hers. No clue, he said. I’m sure it’s hers.

Just a few more hours of peace left to go. Even the guard dogs have been quieter this winter. I’m pleasantly surprised. I still wish this winter could be like last winter. It was the quietest winter of all the winters I’ve been here.

According to Tom, though, the couple of hours or so that he spent in the back room late last night, he heard no barking. I don’t know about that, though, cuz he’s much more tolerant than me. Therefore, the dog could’ve easily barked without him noticing. As loud as it is in the back room, especially at night, it could still go over Tom’s head. Unless he felt that telling me he heard anything, if he did, would rile me up even more.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 1997 I have news that’s good, surprising, and infuriating. Let’s just say that Friday night was the direct opposite of yesterday and of how today’s been so far.

As I left off saying, the freeloader let me know he was coming and going loud and clear a couple of times. Then later, at around 8:30, the freeloader came in with the music blasting wicked loud and he just sat there in the car and wouldn’t even get out. So, it was either me killing him for once and for all right then and there or my waking Tom up. He went out and talked to him, but as always, he said he’d turn it down.

And Tom says this isn’t personal? How can he believe for an instant that this isn’t aimed at me? And even if it wasn’t, it is by God. If the freeloader isn’t doing this on purpose (but I know he is), then God’s going through him to get at me. In fact, I’m sure God did have a part in it. I didn’t sleep very well that night, either, and I think a good part of it was payback for banging the previous night. So, all in all, I knew I’d have to pay for it somehow. I just don’t get it, though. Why do I feel like I’m the only one in this world who has to be punished for waking someone up (except Tom)? And I’m still sure they never woke up. I can’t even get away with just thinking about waking someone up that I’m pissed off at.

Tom says he’s gonna mail the city out their letter tomorrow, but I don’t know. Whenever he does, if it’s as useless as I feel it’ll be, that black ass is mine!

Now here’s where it gets shocking - yesterday, he actually was quiet. I wasn’t born yesterday or the day before, though, and I know this won’t last long at all.

Paula called again yesterday and we talked. Why is fate having it be that we only talk when that kid’s there? It’s so annoying to keep being put on hold so she can scream at him and to have to listen to him whine like hell.

I also got another call I didn’t expect. My brother left a message. I was wondering when and if I’d ever hear from him again. In his message, he said he couldn’t talk long cuz he had to go out and shovel. So when I got a hold of him at work, it was the happiest chat in a long time. Kind of like old times when I’d give him my laugh when he’d tell me how cold/snowy it was. He said Sandy was out raking leaves one day and then they were shoveling snow the next day. They had 24 hours’ worth of sleet and then it snowed, and they were expecting more snow.

He said that Sandy and Jen were fine. He’s talked to Mom and Dad, but not to Tammy who said, “What makes you think he’d call me?” when I talked to her after. Then he faxed us an “upgrade to complete asshole” certificate. I sent Tammy a copy, but of course, I won’t tell her it’s from him, much less that he suggested I sent it to her cuz then she’d really be hurt. I just told her a friend faxed it to me.

I was never more shocked to hear that for the first time ever (that I know of), the family of Sandy’s that she’s been so very close to, has been giving her and Larry some problems. I don’t know what the problems are that Larry and she have had with them, not that it’s any of my business, but it was surprising to hear, nonetheless. As surprising as it’d be to hear Tom suddenly say he was pissed off at his mother.

I had Tom give Mom a couple of pictures when he went over to take her to church. One of the kittens when I rescued them from that storm, and one of my Bugs Bunny wall-art in the bedroom. By the way, when Tom told her I got “fancy” mice, she asked, “Dancing mice?” Also, the babies are just starting to get their fur. I saw a slight tinge of gray forming on their backs.

Now that Tom updated one of the computer’s CD ROM drives, we got to see a little photo slideshow that’s on Gloria’s latest CD. It’s got a few different things you can choose from, like song lyrics, about certain songs, etc. All the pictures sucked, except for one.

I got a kick out of Tom’s teasing me yesterday (since he came and I didn’t) when he said, “When we get the new bed, I hope you’ll cum more.”

Another sign that my ma’s brain is on the fritz - their number came up on our box yesterday. For sure too, yet when I called there to see what was up, she said she didn’t call me. Maybe Dad dialed us by mistake from another extension, maybe not, but it was their number for sure. Meanwhile, she’s sending Tom something.

Tom says he’ll fire off the letter when he gets in from work early tomorrow morning, then off it’ll go. His doing this when he knows I’ll be asleep makes me wonder if he’s really gonna do this letter thing, but if he does, I’ve got mixed emotions about it working. I know it won’t work, but I kind of wish it wouldn’t so I could be the one to have the honor of putting his music out of business for good. A bigger part of me wants this letter to take care of the problem cuz it’s the city’s responsibility and not mine.

I like the sound machine a lot and it’s great for stuff like dogs, car doors, and things like that, but it only does an OK job with shit like motorcycles, and it could never compete with bass in a million years. We’ll be getting another one, though, to use in the back room on Tuesday.

Tomorrow, we’ll be playing miniature golf and going to the library.

The sicko’s still quiet, but as we know all too well, it’ll be very short-lived. For now.

Now for the really good and surprising news - Tom got off yesterday. It shocked the shit out of me, too. Not just that he came, but cuz of when he came. If I were fertile, I’d most definitely be pregnant. Guess God’s decided that it’s time for him to see that I really am sterile, but either way, it was fun. I don’t know if God pitted the asshole against me (along with the asshole pitting itself against me) with the music in compensation for this, the bed, or what, but I think it’s more than likely payback for my late-night ruckus.

Both the bed and the satellite dish should be here this week unless something else puts a block on them.

I really ought to be ashamed of myself for being so naïve as to get that Agia electrolysis thing. It really is a crock of shit. I should’ve known it was too good to be true and saved myself an extra $100, but it’s too late now, cuz I can’t get my money back from this place.

The mice are doing fine. I haven’t seen much of the babies, cuz the 3 ladies are keeping them buried under the sawdust to keep them warm since they don’t have their fur yet. Even Cocoa and Shy help sit on them to keep them warm. It’s the female mice’s instinct. Ziggy’s still the friendliest and likes to sit on my shoulder. When I lay on my stomach, she runs up and down my back. I had her in my hand and at arm’s length, I shot pictures. I hope they come out OK. I also shot a few of Bunny and the cats. The kittens like to play with Bunny and thankfully, Mama Cat and Bunny get along just fine. They ignore each other, but that’s better than them fighting.

The living room wall heater broke like everything around here does. Instead of picking up the part to fix it, he got a couple of little portable heaters and they work great. So I have the original one in the bedroom, and the two little new ones are in the music room and living room.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 1997 The babies are doing fine. It’s so cute how sometimes all 3 adults nestle in with them. It’s amazing that they don’t get smothered with 3 mice sitting on top of them.

As soon as I got up, fed the animals and made my coffee, Paula started my day with a good laugh. She says it’s sleeting there and that the place is all iced over. Also, there’s no school there today, so I had to deal with at least a little of her screaming at Justin.

I’m now on step 2 of the Nicorette program. For the first 6 weeks, you have a piece of gum every 1-2 hours, but now it’s down to a piece every 2-4 hours. For weeks 7, 8, and 9 it’ll be that way. Then for weeks 10, 11, and 12, I’ll be at a piece every 4-8 hours. So, I’m halfway through the program and should be getting more mail from the company soon.

Later…

Got more pictures in the mail yesterday. I was wondering where the pictures were that I took of Spunky when we first got him. And it turns out that I did take pictures of Gizzy the gerbil, too, so Mom, Dad, and Tammy will each have a couple of envelopes of pictures to look forward to.

My folks left a message saying that they’ll update me on their trip in a few days, but first, they have to catch up at the store.

I’m really really pissed at Tammy. So pissed I could wring her neck! I should’ve known better when I wrote something about Tammy not making Lisa feel it was her fault that she got sexually assaulted. I’m sure that in the beginning she didn’t, but Lisa told me when we talked the other day that she called her own daughter a slut and told her that as far as what happened, she brought it on herself. Can you believe that?! I can, cuz that’s typical Tammy, but how sick can she be? How sick can anyone be to blame someone for someone else’s sick behavior? Especially a 14-year-old? Tammy has a way of seeming to be on your side one minute, then pouncing on you in the next minute. If there’s another good thing to never having a child, it’s that she and my parents would make me feel like I couldn’t handle it or that I’d be a lousy mom, if they didn’t come out and just say so. Maybe they’d have been right, but who would they’ve been to talk? I hate it when people pretend they can handle something or do well at something when they can’t, and then turn around and either tell or imply to others that they can’t either.

Lisa also told me what it was that she wrote that set Tammy off. Lisa started a journal, at the advice of her social worker, who she says also says it’s her fault and poor Lisa believes it, too. Tammy was rude enough to go and read it and I guess the problem was all about Lisa being friends with a bad boy. Lisa said she understands her parents not wanting her to hang out with kids on drugs, but she says she really cares for this guy as a friend. Lisa also told me she’d never write down that we talk, much less tell anyone.

Anyway, I told Lisa it was not her fault that some pervert hurt her (someone had to tell her what’s true). No matter what you do, say, or wear, a sick person is a sick person and we are not responsible for the actions of others. Parents should do their best to raise their kids to behave and all that and set good behavioral examples, but after that, we’re all on our own, all responsible for our own behavior. Not anyone else’s. Others may influence how we act, feel, think, believe, or our attitude, but that’s about it. We don’t control them and what they do.

Boy, do I have mixed emotions about God and Tammy. Tammy never should’ve had kids and God shouldn’t have allowed her any, but if she didn’t, I’d never have my niece Lisa as part of my life.

Tom doesn’t have a cold after all. Maybe he was just tired, as usual. Still, something will act like there’s a real pregnancy to avoid. Of course, we’ll also be busy, but that’s nothing new. God’s got to keep our time for sex, or for anything, in spurts. The positive side of it, though, is that it makes what time we do have more special.

Also, Ziggy went upstairs and came down without a problem, so I guess she just felt more comfortable waiting till she had the babies. Now my question is, is Shy pregnant? I doubt Cocoa is, but who knows with Shy?

Later…

Here we go with the bull. Tom’s implying that he’s gonna get off like hell tomorrow. When he works out his fears and paranoia - maybe.

I reminded Tom about the city letter, and now he wants to wait for a little to see if there’s a pattern. I knew it! I knew he’d stall and he’s gonna keep putting it off and making excuses with the false hope of my changing my mind about it. He still says he’s sure this letter will work, too, but I know it won’t. But if I can get him to send it and show him that it won’t work, then I can go and take care of next door myself in a way that will work till God punishes me for it.

Anyway, as far as patterns go - there is a pattern. There’s been a pattern for most of the time they’ve been here. At the same time, there’s a pattern, though, there isn’t a pattern. Meaning, instead of banging in loudly 2-4 times a day. It’s now usually twice a day and it’s sometimes not too loud. Also, the times vary. There’s no set time for when he comes and goes. He could leave at 7 AM and return at 5 PM one day, then leave at 8:30 AM and return at 7 PM the next day. Even so, he’s had about 3 different patterns in the times he’s actually lived there. First it was the loud music 2-4 times a day. Then it was no music, but the dog and the car doors. Now it’s car doors and music about twice a day that’s sometimes not too loud.

The asshole’s now beginning to park just outside the carport now where I can see him, now that the weather’s chilled down.

Like I said, if he or the city can’t or won’t do anything about their shit, I will.

We drained the pool some more today and it’s just about empty. There’s still a little bit in the Jacuzzi part.

Andy left 3 messages, 3 minutes each, telling me that he likes his job.

Again, I really like and care for my pal Paula, but boy is she a doofus! She doesn’t know who the father of either of her sons is. It’s fine to be a slut, cuz you know me. Whatever turns you on and to each their own is fine. But Jesus! Know the father of your kids for crying out loud!

She’s so full of shit too (unintentionally), saying that she didn’t know she was pregnant till she was in the 6th month and then she tried to tell me she had screwy periods till she was 6 months pregnant, then they stopped completely. First off, it’s impossible to not know you’ve been pregnant for 6 months. You’d have to be showing, be sick, or feel it moving around. Secondly, if you had that much bleeding, that fetus would be wiped out for damn sure.

It’s amazing how it wasn’t till this year that I really, really began to see and understand just how spacey and out of touch with reality Paula is. Sometimes, it takes being out of a person’s life for a while, then re-entering it, to see them for who they are. I knew she wasn’t too stable and that she was lacking at least a part of her brain back when we were neighbors, but not like I know it now. I was just too fucked up with too many of my own problems to be as receptive as I am now.

Later…

I’m so fucking pissed! Thanks, God. Thanks for rewarding me with next door going back to the way they were when they first got here for my not smoking and for my never doing shit to these people to deserve this. I swear to God, I’m gonna be out back making a ruckus every night that I’m up and I don’t care how much sleep I lose over it.

There were 6 helicopters swarming around the area really close by, and you know how loud those are. Yet over that, the fucking freeloader could be heard leaving louder than he has in well over a year. Tom heard it, too. I mean, we’re right back to where we started at the very beginning. Then, he came back just as loud. Tom was right when he said that in time, they’d go back to their same old shit after our screaming match, so I’d like to think he could be right about this letter shutting him up, but no way. And if it did, these fucking sick mother-fucking freeloaders would do something else. They’ll go out and get another dog or do something. Like I said, it’s either music or dogs with these sick fucks. And if it shut them up in all areas, God would have something else disturb my peace. Maybe a Mormon family will move in across the street, maybe there’ll be more construction around here, etc.

I’m gonna end up killing this freeloader! It’s just a matter of time now. When I get done with this fuck, this fuck’s gonna be out of commission for quite a while, and then when he is physically able to drive, he’ll be too fucking scared to blast that music, cuz he’ll remember. He’ll remember and he’ll have nightmares of me for the rest of his life. I really am about to be this freeloader’s worst nightmare. By the New Year, I’m sure.

Now this could be cuz they heard me talking to Tom out back and this is his way of saying, “I heard you. Now hear me.” Yeah, I hear you, you fucking black asshole. And soon you’ll be more than just hearing me! It could also be cuz they’ve figured out it’s me banging at night and why, but either way, I know they planned this the moment his bitch and I laid into each other.

What? Does he want me to do something to him or his car? He gets really loud at just about the same time he starts parking in front of the carport (as well as when the dog leaves). Is he looking for an excuse to take me to court? Well, he isn’t gonna get that, that’s for sure.

The only thing that’s improved here, is that due to the fact that these freeloaders don’t dig winter, they’re not having as much company, nor are they hanging outside gabbing.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 1997 And now I have 5 mice! That is, unless Shy or Cocoa’s pregnant, too. Meanwhile, Ziggy had two babies, and boy are they ugly. They’re these pink, bald, squirmy little things and are unrecognizable. I wouldn’t know they were mice if I didn’t know any better. They mature so fast, though, so they’ll look like mice before you know it. I just hope that this is it and that they’re the same sex. I could wind up with tons of mice if not, but I could give them to pet stores. I’m sure they’ll be fed to snakes, but I may not have a choice.

They’re so tiny. Barely bigger than a jellybean.

This may explain why only Cocoa’s been exploring the upper levels of their house, whereas Ziggy and Shy have remained downstairs (Shy looks pregnant, too).

Guess the workers are gonna be next door any minute now. Yesterday, I heard him leave by way of the car door awfully early, and shortly after, they arrived. Same scenario so far today - he left just before 7:00. Get it? As if he doesn’t want to make it appear that he’s spent the nights.

I was surprised but pleased that the workers weren’t here all day yesterday. Just a few hours, actually, but I thank God for my schedule being the way it is. They arrived at 7:00 and for a good 45 minutes, they pounded and pounded so loud that it shook this house and would’ve woken me up for damn sure! Then they worked quietly and left around 10:00 when we went and got Chanukah presents for my parents and for Tammy and Bill. I got them some desert decorations too, but not the same kind I’ve got. Theirs are coyotes with flowers and cactuses. A very beautiful southwestern display that I know they’re all gonna love and that they can’t get in the states they live in.

We went to the library too, and Tom got the address we needed. I got a Dean Koontz book.

Then Tom said he had a slight sore throat. Yeah, I believe it. He’s well overdue for a cold and it’s perfect timing, too. Meaning, right as I approach prime time. Once again, something’s got to act like there’s a pregnancy to prevent. Then why did it allow Tom to cum a good 5-6 times when it was the right time when he first started cumming? Nothing happened then, or in the past with asshole Ron, so I am sterile. Why, though, must it act like I’m not? And once again, if Tom’s so sure I’m fertile and if he wants a kid that bad, why hasn’t he cum in months?

Here is another of his many bullshit cures - he told me that quitting smoking would help him to cum, but all it did was increase the sex for a week or two when I first quit. Meanwhile, it’s been almost 6 weeks since I’ve had a cigarette and not once did he squirt. Oh, wait a minute! He needs a new bed to cum! That’s right. Only this mattress can cure his little problem.

We got some pictures in the mail yesterday that aren’t as impressive as I hoped they’d be. Some of them are blurry. There were some of my folks from when they were here and a couple of Gizzy the mouse. There were several of Bunny and Teddy Bear. Too bad I didn’t shoot pictures of Gizzy the gerbil, but I thought he’d be around a lot longer than he was. Anyway, I’ve sent my folks and Tammy about 12 pictures each. Of course, I look terrible in the few shots I was in. I look chunky and my face is geeky looking. You can also tell how dead and uneven my hair is.

I got a kick out of another ditzy thing Paula had said when we spoke. Since she loses my number every time she moves when she writes it down on paper, she wrote it on her apartment wall this time around. She’ll have to take that wall with her when she moves.

Later…

God, these baby mice sure are weird-looking. They look like they don’t have any eyes at all and you can barely see where the mouth and nose are. The ears are just little humps. They look like they’re only partially formed, which in a sense, is true.

I forgot to say before that the mice were $2.50 each. So they all came to just over $8.

Their tails look like rolled-up silk close up, but when you move away, they look like worms.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 1997 The mice are settling in well. Shy just got tangled in my hair, but I got her out. The other two really love to run up and down my arm and when I lay on my stomach, they run up and down my back.

I asked Paula if she’d be settling in, speaking of it, and if she’d be hanging around the place she’s in for more than a few months. She says yes, but we’ll see.

My theory was right. She’s not on welfare. She’s on disability, listed as a nut just like I was. They sure treat her better than they treated me. She’s living in a 3-story duplex (cellar, first floor and upstairs) and is getting $1000 a month. Her rent’s also just $132 like mine was with Carabetta on Oswego St. This is all cuz of the kid, though. They do more for those with either very bad handicaps or kids.

Speaking of kids, I still can’t understand how God could give this girl kids and not me. I can see him choosing to bless Evie over me, but her? Please! I love my friend Paula and remember well all the times she listened to me bitch about life. I know she can’t help her flaky state of mind, too, and she was obviously born that way and got this from her real mother, who she says is a mental case that’s been locked up forever. So no, she can’t work, cuz she’s just too stupid to. This isn’t someone suffering from PTSD like I was or who is just stressed out. She may even have some type of mild retardation.

She told me that Robert had been with a doctor, but then they moved him and she doesn’t know where to. She said some guy was supposed to have molested Robert and that he was taken from her for reasons of neglect and abuse, but that she proved she could keep Justin. How could she have proved that? All she ever does is scream and threaten. And the way she said, “He’s so mental,” about Justin and loud enough for him to hear, was just awful.

Then she said she wondered if she was pregnant, cuz she’d gained weight and then she said something about the tubes she had tied growing back after 5 years. I never heard of that. I mean, I thought if a woman had her tubes tied - that’s it. No more kids ever. If I’m wrong though, God, don’t you dare let this girl have another baby!

Then she went back and forth from admitting that Robert may be better off where he is since she just couldn’t handle him to saying she was gonna go hunt him down without caring if she got arrested, etc.

She broke up with the guy she said she was seeing in the letter she’d written to me. He got busted for drug dealing. Yeah, that’s the kind Paula would seek and attract. Now she says she’s seeing a CO. That’s a step up for her.

She sure is a reminder of just how far I’ve come. I’ll never have a child or some hot job, but I’m not on disability anymore and I’m not still in trouble, either.

Anyway, although she’ll be out of where she is soon enough and without a phone again for a while, I’m gonna try not to talk to her unless the kid is in school. He’s in 1st grade. This way, I won’t have to hear her threatening to punch him in the mouth, etc.

I forgot to say earlier that I got to ask a guy working next door if the house was being sold. As figured, he said no, they just had their main line replaced.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 1997 Got a message from Paula while I was asleep. I’ll have to give her a call at a more decent hour. She’ll be up by 7 AM her time. Can’t wait to see what’s been up with her.

I slept OK, but I still woke up too soon for a while, then fell back asleep. I’m not sure at this point, whether or not I’m gonna try harder to lose weight or just let myself keep gaining. I may have no choice but to keep gaining. God gave me my lungs back, so I’m sure he’s not in a hurry to give me my body back, too.

We went to the pet store yesterday where I really lucked out. We had discussed the possibility of getting a female hamster to make babies or a female and male gerbil. Instead, I got 3 really cute mice (all ladies).

Their names are Ziggy, Shy and Cocoa.

Later…

I stopped earlier, cuz Tom got up and we got to talking.

I also just called Paula and ended up laughing my ass off, cuz just like when I called her nearly a year ago, she was waiting for the landlord to fix her heat. She never has any heat. She’s so cursed when it comes to heat and is always trying to get her heat fixed.

So in the two minutes we spoke, before the landlord beeped in, she told me that she moved a couple of times, which is typical Paula. She was also screaming at the kid, as usual. She did get the shirt I sent and the letters and still has the same PO Box. She’s in a West Springfield housing project.

She said she’ll call me back, but you never know when that’ll be.

I thought they had time limits on people on assistance now. She hasn’t worked since I met up with her in ‘89. Maybe she’s on disability, as well as welfare, cuz she is out of it in the head to a degree. She’s just so flaky.

Anyway, the mice I got are called long-haired silkies or fancy mice. Their fur really does look like shiny, shimmering silk. They are so adorable and so mellow compared to the house mouse I had and the gerbil. Gerbils and hamsters are definitely the most aggressive of them all and house mice never want to be friendly. They just want to be ignored. These mice, though, are so friendly. Just a little skittish, but they’re just babies and I just got them.

Cocoa’s the smallest and she got her name cuz she’s all brown. Shy is Shy, cuz she’s the timidest. Ziggy’s Ziggy, cuz she has a white zigzag streak across her head. Shy and Ziggy have brown and white, but mostly brown. Cocoa’s small, Shy’s average, but Ziggy’s big. I wonder if she could be pregnant.

Zig’s the friendliest of them all so far and she loves to sit on my shoulder and walk along my arm. I took some pictures, too. She tried to climb onto my nose and into my mouth, but I made sure she didn’t.

Anyway, I love the mice and am glad I found them. All I’d ever see for mice in pet shops were all white mice, which I don’t care for.

Later…

This is just too fucking weird. They’re working again next door! They come on weekends, they come on holidays. Are they gonna come on Christmas, too? And are they ever gonna finish what they’re doing? Not only are they here today on a holiday (Veteran’s Day), it’s raining out too, yet they’re sawing, banging, thumping, and doing God knows what. I guess God’s back to his not wanting me to sleep much, cuz they’re not gonna be gone till 6:00 and I’ll need to crash at 3:00 or 4:00. Tom says it seems like too much work for just fixing things that need to be fixed in general. He says it seems like they’re preparing to make a sale. Whatever. I just wish they’d finish!

Later…

I just spoke to Andy who said he got a job. I’m so happy for him. And it’s his one and only job application and interview since being fired. The restaurant is just a mile from his house. I don’t know what his hours will be yet or what days he’ll have off.

Michelle’s friend or mother, I forgot which one, will be taking the waterbed. In exchange for my giving them the waterbed, they’ll be bringing that security door in their truck when they come to pick the bed up. Our new bed should be here within 5-10 days. I hope!!! And I hope it works out, too. I mean, I know it won’t change the sex and the sterility, but I just hope we really can sleep well enough together with this new bed and sound machine.

The day I got the mice, I called my folks to tell them about it live, but Gene answered. I had an unexpected, but pleasant chat with him. He really sounds a lot like Dad. We talked about the weather and things in general and he told me mom surprised dad with a trip to Orlando. Dad had to have blood work done, which came out fine. While this was going on, Ma packed up the car and just took off with Dad later. I guess it’s two hours away.

I called Gene today too, and he said they called last night and that they were at Epcot Center and at a laser light show.

Later…

Are they ever gonna leave next door? These assholes have been here for 7 hours, so what the fuck can they be doing? There was a cement mixer here a few hours ago that was obviously filling in the patio, but they’re not done yet. I noticed something different today and that’s that someone was up on their roof. I couldn’t tell what he was doing, but is all this really over the sewers? He’s still living next door, cuz we either see the car or hear the car doors, so they’re not moving. All my “change” vibe was over was because of the work they were doing and the temporary absence of the dog. I knew the dog disappearing after just a few months was too good to be true. God would never like me enough to allow a dog to piss me off for such a short time. It’s gotta be coming back. Sooner or later these city fuckups have to finish whatever the fuck they’re doing and then, in comes the beast. Well, at least my only choice won’t be music to drown out its barking. And if it doesn’t return, which is what Tom thinks will be the case, there’s still bound to be a dog over there at some point, be it the asshole’s, or someone else’s.

Tom still wants to pick up another sound machine, but for now, he got another fan. So I can have the fan on, instead of just music, which was what I was trying to say before. The AC fan just barely wipes out the guard dogs two yards away, but it’d be useless against a dog just a few feet away. This one’s more than a fan, though, for a box fan. It’s got a grill on its front to let you control the direction of the airflow. Its blades are so skinny, too, and that’s probably why it’s not as loud as the other fan I had. Still, it makes for a good backup for when the sound machine dies.

OK, he just banged in next door, so off goes the letter to the city. Not that it’ll do any good and not that Tom will send it right away.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1997 Again I woke up too soon yesterday, after only 5 hours of sleep. Nothing woke me up, but I just couldn’t get back to sleep and it was frustrating as all hell. Finally, after a couple of Benadryl, I crashed and ended up with a total of about 11 hours of sleep. I needed it, too!

If anything’s improved by being woken up too soon, it’s that I’m not wheezing my ass off. My heart still beats hard and fast, but not as bad. I still feel just as beat and disoriented, though.

Anyway, this being woken up started right when I began dieting. I was gonna quit the diet and see if I got woken up again, figuring that if I slept OK, then something didn’t want me losing weight. However, I’m down to 110. So since it’s working, I may as well just deal with being woken up. For a while, anyway.

I still don’t know if something was trying to punish me or trying to tell me something or both. Tom says getting up for a kid would be no problem, cuz it’s a responsibility, whereas something that’s not my responsibility, is different.

He also pointed out that just cuz David and Evie got what they wanted, and so soon after marriage, doesn’t mean that Evie didn’t have to go through her share of shit, too. She was married twice before and both guys left her and took everything.

Tom also suggested that maybe something’s testing us to see how bad we want it. For this long? I can see that for a few months but for a few years? That’s quite a test, don’t you think?

I asked Tom the question I asked this journal - why he suggested I’d be pregnant at different times if he knew that the answer to that was the bed. His answer was that just cuz he knew the bed would work, didn’t mean other things couldn’t work too. Well, he gave himself away, not that I didn’t know any better when he said he wouldn’t give any more timetables after December. In other words, he knows my being pregnant in December’s bullshit, but that he’ll stop doing that after December (saying I’ll be pregnant by January, then by February, etc).

Tom would’ve gotten a kick out of my horoscope if he’d seen it on AOL. I told him about it, though. It said that household things that need repair or replacement may seem like a crisis, but that in the end, it’d turn out to be beneficial. I wondered that, too. If maybe God had the fan break knowing that this sound machine would help me even better. For example, it may help with his snoring if we ever get that bed.

I talked to Tammy yesterday, who says she’s gonna be quitting smoking by way of a medication that goes to the brain that’s very expensive. I never heard of it, but she says that after a week of taking the drug (she’s still going through the same lung problems I had there), she will quit smoking. I hope so. It’d be nice to see her follow in my footsteps. Yes, it’s now been 5 weeks for me and the intense cravings and dizzy spells are just starting to ease up.

Today I’ll probably be going to the pet store to see about getting a new small critter of some kind.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 1997 Yesterday was a shitty day. All was going just fine for a while there. I had even gone over 12 hours without eating, was down two pounds to 112, and quite proud of myself. Then Tom told me something that caused me to have mixed emotions. That David got a vasectomy cuz he and Evie got what they wanted - a boy and a girl. I’m very happy that they got what they wanted, but what about me? Don’t I count too? Doesn’t my dream matter at all to God? At least David and Evie are one of the few great people that I wish had more kids than society’s assholes do, and perhaps it’s not very humbling for me, but it’s not fair! Please God, don’t forget me too.

Something was out to get me real good yesterday. I don’t know if God was punishing me, or just trying to remind me that a baby isn’t something I could handle physically and mentally or both.

It began at bedtime. I threw my book onto the bed, planning to read a bit before crashing, then went to reach for the fan. Sure enough, though, the speed control on it broke and it wouldn’t go close to high speed.

Is God ever gonna stop breaking our stuff?! I just wish he’d leave our stuff alone!

So Tom brought in two wimpy fans and then we tried what we thought would be a hot idea to create white noise. We set the radio where there wasn’t a station, to create a mix of static and wind sounds like the fan.

Meanwhile, even though it wasn’t till 2 PM that I fell asleep to that, I noticed at 10:30 that the fucking construction vans are next door again! What the fuck are they doing over there? And does this explain why the dog still isn’t there? Am I still in for that dog returning? Anyway, even though the static on the radio wasn’t quite as consistent as I’d have liked, I fell asleep. But just for two whole hours. The fucking thing started crackling and popping and the rush of static/wind was coming in waves. Then I tried tuning in a real station on the radio only to wake right up on every commercial. How the hell did I once sleep to this thing?! Then I tried playing a CD, but then the speakers on my old box, which have never had a problem before, started crackling and faltering, too!

Like I said, it was way, way too obvious that something up there was trying to get me. Again, was it punishing me, or trying to teach me a lesson about having to keep getting up? Or could it have been cuz of my trying to lose weight that something up there hasn’t wanted me to lose? I don’t know, but it was more than frustrating and angering. It was scary.

Tom, who had left after the discovery of the fucked-up fan, came home after the last thing that woke me up which was the fucking people working next door. He brought me a real treat that I’ll use till God breaks it, and he’s already warned me that he will break it too, cuz its speakers fucking crackled on me as well for a few seconds as I was adjusting the volume. Anyway, it’s a noise machine with 6 sounds. The two I don’t like are the chorus of crickets and the heartbeat. They say fussy babies like the heartbeat, though, cuz they can hear the mother’s heartbeat in the womb so it soothes them, but I’ll never have to worry about a fussy baby. There’s also a rain sound and a mountain stream sound and these are nice, but my two favorites are the ocean waves and the white noise, which is a recording of a waterfall. I finally slept to this last one with no interruptions from 5 PM - 10 PM.

We hope to get one of these to use in the back room too, cuz they’re not just great for sleeping and drowning out noise like barking, but they’re very relaxing. I also love the fact that I can put it anywhere I want and not have to worry about it being dangerous like a fan can be (if my middle-ass-length hair got caught in it). And I don’t have to deal with the draft of the fan in the winter.

Tom also got computer parts for us, but mainly for him. We’re gonna be having more of our own computers so that we don’t have to worry about hard drive space or if one’s using the computer when the other wants to.

He’s also gonna set things up to make it easy for me to make more screensavers out of videos.

I can also watch TV in the corner of the screen while I type, but I don’t know if that’ll be something I’ll be that interested in doing. That’d be sort of distracting.

Anyway, even though I finally won God over on the sleep issue, even if I’m still a bit tired, it was off to more bad news when I got up. It seems something’s also delaying our Visa card. Something doesn’t want us to get that bed. But why?! Is it trying to prevent added normalcy? Or is it trying to protect me from more trouble/heartaches/frustrations?

We discussed sending the city the letter about next door and have decided that we’ll wait till they start up again. I don’t know why the music ended so soon, not that I can complain, but I know them and know that it’s only a matter of time before it’s a problem yet again. So Tom will get the address to which to send the letter, but as soon as we hear them, off it goes. Not that it’ll do me any good. And not that God won’t make me pay for it, too.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 1997 Tom was sweet enough to come home right after work, instead of heading to do the grocery shopping. He said he was sorry I had to find Gizzy alone.

I put Gizzy in an empty coffee can and Tom put it in the dumpster. It’s not like I had him for years, or else I’d have had Tom bury him, which he offered to do.

Sometime soon, I’ll go pick out a new small critter, but I don’t know for sure if it’ll be a gerbil, a hamster, or a mouse.

I hope to hell this weekend is peaceful. That’s all I’d need is for them to throw their fucking noise at me be it music or whatever, on top of the not smoking, the losing Gizzy, and the fact that I’m now 114 pounds.

Of course, Tom never sent the city that letter about next door. I knew he wouldn’t, and even though they’ve been quieter for some strange reason, he should’ve at least gotten the address. He should’ve gotten that the day he verified that that was a city-owned house.

I talked to Andy earlier, who’s still afraid to get a job. He said he went to one restaurant that he believed would’ve hired him till Cocoa’s ruined it for him.

Andy and Michelle are going to the lesbo bar together. I’m glad Andy’s got someone to take my place in that department.

Andy’s just as amazed as I am that I’ve gone this long without smoking. It’s nice to be able to breathe, but I’m far from thrilled about gaining 6 pounds in the last month, and I still have cravings. They’re easing up a little, but they’re still there and I’m sure they always will be as long as I continue not to smoke.

Andy, who even said he never gives up (when it comes to getting a boyfriend) and who’s always been more optimistic than me, can’t believe Tom could believe that a mattress could bring a child into the world. He’s not as optimistic as Tom is, you see, but I explained to Andy that although it’s not the mattress itself that he thinks will bring a child into the world, but rather the closeness/normalcy of sleeping together, I agree his optimism is overkill. It’s a shame that as much of a genius as my husband is, he’s also this naïve, but again, I don’t think he’s really off in Never Never Land. I don’t think he believes what he’s saying. I think he’s pulling my leg and trying to tell me something that sounds great, but I know better. He says he disagrees, but I think that if you truly love someone, you can have normal sex with them full-time in a public bathroom stall. Sure, sex is harder to concentrate on when you’re sick, mad, sad, or worrying about something, but when the sex hasn’t started off with him being tired, hurt, mad, sad, sick, or worried - what’s the problem? Fear. Fear is the problem and he may or may not know it, but my husband’s way too intelligent to even think for a millisecond that this could be the answer to normal, full-time sex and a kid. Beds, environmental, and lifestyle changes may help, but they don’t make sex and babies. People do. People have had sex and conceived in public bathroom stalls, for fuck’s sake. But when one’s scared and the other’s sterile, then it becomes a rather difficult thing to do. No, an impossible thing to do. And God has yet to offer any help.

So, since I know real damn good and well that I won’t be conceiving a damn thing in December, but more weight unless I do something about it, I’ve got to try, as hard as it’ll be, to not eat. Just have liquids and vitamins.

Later…

I don’t believe it. Now the unavailable calls are coming at this late hour?! That, coupled with the fact that they called 3 times in a row one night and wouldn’t even leave a message, tells me it is someone one of us knows.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 1997 Well, there’s a car next door. I could just see the rear end of it hanging out of the carport, which runs right along the side of our house. I don’t know why he’s been quieter, or if he has for sure, cuz of the way my schedule is right now, but he ain’t going anywhere. I just don’t feel it.

My husband says I’ll definitely be pregnant in December and if I’m not by January or February, he’ll then begin to wonder. What a bad liar he is. I mean, really! Does he really think even an eighth of me could believe I’d ever be pregnant in December?

Anyway, Tom got a Florida Marlins T-shirt from my folks. They won the World Series and you know how much Tom loves sports. That’s where he’s your typical male.

Got a couple of purses and one had a dollar bill in it, a pair of white loafers, and some candy. A couple of plastic glasses with a fruit design on them, 4 really pretty coasters, and a very nice sweater for someone with sensitive skin and who always felt smothered in sweaters. It’s in the form of a jacket, rather than a shirt, which I like better than a regular sweater, and it’s very pretty. It’s got colorful floral embroidery around where the buttons are and pearl buttons.

For the first time, they sent CDs. There were 5 CDs. One, I already have, two I don’t want, but then the last two I’m keeping. One is of Carly Simon and the other is of Wilson/Philips. They sent two of theirs and I have one, but right now I’m checking out the Wilson/Philips CD I don’t have. So far I’m not impressed, but songs have a way of growing on me in time.

Now, here’s where I once again wonder about my mother’s state of mind and memory. We already discussed and agreed she wouldn’t send us this plaid blue comforter, but she did anyway. Oh well.

Got a letter from Kim, who said she’s glad to hear I’m not smoking. For a nurse, I’m sure she is. She and Walter are still doing well, so I’m happy for her. Who knows when they’ll be living together, though?

I also got more stickers and address labels from the HS. With them, I’ll probably never need to order a nice set from this company’s catalog that I use. The HSs aren’t as nice, but they don’t cost anything.

They finished working today on the front street corner and believe it or not, I slept through a couple of hours of their work. I waited to go to bed after they got here, figuring it’d be easier to go to bed to their noise, rather than fall asleep first, then have it wake me up. And they’re definitely all done, too.

Later…

Gizzy’s dead. I don’t really want to get into it now, so later…

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 1997 Earlier, we went to Wal-Mart and got a couple of new pairs of sweatpants and a couple of new bras, since I’m just not skinny anymore.

I also got the little critters more toys. I got 4 more curved tubes, a maze, and a high-rise. I decided that the maze did interest me, after all. It’s really cool and I’ll rotate it between Gizzy and Teddy Bear. What the high-rise is two little round tubes that are connected that they can sleep in. Instead of keeping them connected, though, I’ve got them set up so that each one can use them. Gizzy’s got the red one on his house and Teddy Bear’s got the blue one on his house.

I also called Mary and told her all about the new stuff and she and Dave just got a high-rise, too.

There was another computer question from my parents a few days ago and hopefully, Tom will have the time to answer it soon enough. It was about how to get the 50 free hours she’s supposed to get, then she wanted to know if something would be billed on her phone bill or charge card.

Hopefully, he can also put the chicken wire across the top of the hutch (in case these cats do venture indoors here). Mama Cat now meows for me sometimes late at night when she wants more food. White Feet almost ate right out of my hand the other day, but Blackie’s still a shy one.

And I hope he can soon put on the new toilet seat, too. This is the second soft one that’s ripped, so now we’re back to hard toilet seats. That’s OK, cuz at this point; I have enough cushioning on my ass. As my dad said when he was here - I’ve got a soft ass.

He began draining the pool which is now just about empty. We still don’t know if we’re gonna paint it a solid blue, or if I’m gonna do any kind of drawings or patterns on it. It’s gonna depend on what kinds of paints and colors we can get.

I’ve been checking out some web pages on Charlie’s Angels and have been downloading some old pictures I used to love into my wallpaper file. It’s really cool to just be able to browse through all this stuff and I wish they had had this when I was 10 and really into them. Back then, you could only get pictures by way of magazines and you certainly couldn’t tape any episodes at that time.

The asshole’s been fairly quiet lately. Their color was never the issue. It was their music and dog that were the issue, and I know there’s good and bad in all colors and that most people suck.

Anyway, I’m not sure if he’s moving next door, but I guess it isn’t likely.

I hope I can talk to Lisa alone sometime soon. I’m really worried for her and I feel so sorry for what she and her sisters have to go through. In some ways, Tammy may be a better mom than our mom was, but not in very many ways at all. She’s either too much like her and if she’s not, she’s still a negative, moody, serious bitch. Very insensitive and hard to talk to, for the most part. She just doesn’t understand people too well, which is a shame what with all she’s been through. I don’t think Tammy’s fully to blame for who she is. We are who our parents shape and make us and what our experiences are as we grow up, but we still have to take responsibility for our own actions and make our own personal changes that we know are either right for us or that’ll improve us as the people we are.

I called there several days ago, and Lisa answered. Right away, I could tell something was wrong. She sounded miserable and she muttered in a shaky voice that she was, too. Bill was there, so we couldn’t talk. All I could do was ask her yes or no questions, but I couldn’t even do that for very long, cuz then Tammy came home. It had to do with them going through her room and finding something she wrote. That’s all I could get out of her with my questions and I didn’t want to ask questions that could be too suggestible and plant any wrong ideas.

Tom and I discussed it later, and we think the things she could’ve possibly been caught writing about could’ve had to do with negative statements against Tammy, sex, or maybe something she shouldn’t have said or done that involved someone outside of the household.

I hope Lisa will be OK and that we’ll be able to talk soon. I just worry so much over her mental state. I can only imagine what that must be like. I certainly know what Tammy can do to one’s mental state.

Tom’s not only saying he’ll definitely cum regularly when we get the bed but asked me why he’d work so hard and go through all the hassles of getting this bed if all he wanted was to use it to play with my head. Well, cuz he knows there are still some benefits to this bed that don’t include the actual sex acts. Like the closeness and added normalcy, for example, and the convenience it’d bring. I miss being able to walk right up to a bed and have a night table by it, too.

Anyway, he reminded me that I said I wanted to prove to him who’s right about the sterility, so this is a clean-cut yes or no way to find out. So, he’s saying that he’s gonna cum so much that we have to know who’s right about my being sterile? Good, God! How dumb does he think I am? I know better. Nothing will change. Then he’ll make up excuses and casually lie his way out of why things didn’t change by implying that it was my fault and that he was too busy. I can see the part about being too busy. That’s where God comes in. He’ll make sure Tom has his work cut out for him and his time sucked up really good to really tire him out. People’s cars will break and things will break around here way more often than usual. And always when it’s prime time too, as if there could really ever be a pregnancy that God just needed to prevent!

He says he’s always wanted a bed we could both share. Well, I knew that, but if it was this important to him, why didn’t he stress it more often and stronger? His answer was that he didn’t want to sound demanding and controlling. And if he felt the answer to a kid was this bed, why did he insist over and over again that I’d be pregnant at certain times in the past?

And how can God do this to a woman? And why me?

Later…

Another thing I forgot to mention that Andy told me in our chat we had the other day, was about when he and Michelle went to a lesbian bar. He said he couldn’t believe how many feminine women there are now. I can. Of course there are. I’m off the scene. Not that tons of fems would do me any good ever since I’m a fem myself. They like them really big or really butchy if they’re feminine.

The Humane Society sent me my 1998 calendar. It’s really nice. Lots of cats, dogs, rabbits, and other animals.

My breathing has improved tremendously, and I need my inhaler much less. It’s nice to wake up without having to wheeze my ass off and cough like hell. And to be able to sing without always clearing my throat. My nose still gets stuffy, but not as much. If only I knew I could lose weight, but I just don’t know if I can do that anymore. Or if it’ll ever get any easier for me. It’s hard at times. I can go hours without thinking of smoking, then I’m suddenly hit with such powerful urges to smoke. The Nicorette does help, but I can’t take that forever. I must wean my way onto regular gum. Today hasn’t been too bad with intense cravings and I hope that’s a good sign, but I sure do miss them. The ciggies, I mean.

Now I’ll indulge in a far-out fantasy, but hey, that’s what journals are for. The fantasy is that God picked this to be the time to allow me to quit smoking, cuz he never hated me. He never intended to deny me a child all my life. He was just waiting for the perfect time. And since he knows it’s hard enough caring for a child, he wouldn’t want it to be any harder for me by me gasping for breath all the time. So, the reason why he now helped me to help myself is so that he can now give me the child I’ve wanted for so long.

Yeah, I know. I’m great at dreaming.

I don’t see the car next door that I was surprised to see parked in front of the carport and not deep within it early yesterday evening. Does that mean he’s not there? Or does it mean he moved the car deep into the carport? My guess - it’s gone deep in the carport.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 1997 No sounds from next door. I don’t know if that means he isn’t around, or if he figured out what the banging was all about and shut up, or shut up just because. I still doubt anyone heard me, but if they did, I wonder if they think there’s a connection between how the street corner looks right now and last night’s racket? This is where I get into my payback. This is also a scary reality, too, that proves I’m right about God and his ways with me, for the most part. I knew he’d never let me sleep after the 4-5 times I made a racket last night. And I was right. So, how can I be wrong about it when I say he’ll never allow me a kid? First I woke up cuz of a really weird and unpleasant dream. Then, at 10:30 I was woken up by the city digging up our front corner where the fire hydrant is. They miraculously didn’t work all day. Just an hour or two, then I also miraculously fell back asleep. Tom says that they probably won’t work at all today, since they plan on shutting the water off for 4 hours on the 6th. In other words, though, there’s gonna be 2-3 days where I’ll be woken up. Just how much of this work would need to be done if I hadn’t gone out and banged the night away, I wonder? Why is it that I can’t get away with anything? I mean, I just can’t get away with shit! And to have to pay for noise that I’m virtually certain wasn’t heard by anyone, makes me even more pissed. I can’t get away with just thinking about causing trouble.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 1997 Still no dog next door, so the sick fuck had to blast in at 11 PM. And I’m sure it was him I heard last night, too. Oh, how I want just 5 minutes with this boy. Just 5 minutes! And she’s welcome to come to this door again too, as a bonus for me.

I pounded once last night, but tonight, given the fact that the music was even louder and I’m getting more and more pissed and closer to breaking my promise to Tom, I’ll be out there pounding every hour. It helps vent some of this anger and frustration, but not like it would if it were their heads I was pounding.

One of these days, I’m gonna break this promise to Tom, and why not? He’s broken promises to me and promises were meant to be broken, anyway. So when I see that this letter that he says he’s sending at the end of this week doesn’t work, and when the bed doesn’t change anything, and when he casually tries to lie his way out of it, I’m sure that’ll throw me over the edge. Then no more freeloader problems for me.

Tom was bitching about my name-calling when I referred to the sick fuck next door in a rather mean way. I told him I could see him not liking me calling him a name to his face or some family member he loves, but why can’t I call someone a name in our own home? Someone we barely know and who’s pissed me the fuck off? He said that that’d cause me to get into the habit of name-calling, in his opinion, and he doesn’t like to be called names. OK. However, if I’m gonna call him a name, I’m gonna call him a name regardless. I just think it’s OK to call someone names in journals and to people whom it can’t get back to and not to their face. The only thing that I think shouldn’t be written or discussed with others is if you have a problem with someone. Well, obviously my talking to the freeloader about his musical ways that are rubbing bad chords with me, didn’t do shit, so my fists will have to do what my mouth couldn’t do when that letter proves useless and when the bed does, too. Don’t get me wrong. The bed will help with some things, but if Tom thinks, or thinks that I think that it’ll cause lots of squirts and a planted seed, he’s got to be real damn naïve, if he isn’t lying intentionally.

I removed hairs from my tits and from my lower stomach, even if it took forever. I’m gonna wait and see if the hairs grow back. If they don’t, then I’ll continue on with more hair removal, but like I said, it’ll take me 5 lifetimes before I remove all I want removed.

I chatted with Andy, and while he got the new car, he still seems to be quite a sad case. I feel really bad for him. I do and I don’t. A part of him has made his own bed that he has to lie in, and he knows this, but we both also know that it isn’t easy to pick oneself up again, after a fall. And I know that some people just can’t help but be attracted to losers, users, and abusers, who are druggies and who live on the edge. Andy’s always been one of them, although he knows the consequences of being attracted to what he’s attracted to. It’s one of those cases where it’s easier to do what you want and not what’s best for you.

He still hasn’t gone job hunting out of fear that he won’t be hired anywhere due to what happened at Cocoa’s.

He also told me something that he even admitted was sad, sick, and desperate. If you’re a friend of Laura’s, you’re either a druggie, an alkie, or both. A 24-year-old alkie pal of hers really turned him on, so Laura called him from a payphone the other day and told him she could bring this guy (Aubrey) over to him, but that he was wicked drunk. Also, Aubrey told Laura to tell him that if he paid Aubrey $15, he could give him a blowjob. Well, I guess in the end Andy didn’t have to pay him, but that really really is very desperate and seriously sad. He should be saving as much money as possible and he should’ve been hightailing it to job interviews days ago.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 1997 Oh, I can’t stand these constant, powerful urges to smoke that I get! Does it ever get any easier? Is it really a case of either bad lungs or having cravings for the rest of my life? I really don’t feel much different now as far as the cravings go than I did when I first quit. My dad said that it only took him about a month to stop thinking about it all the time and Tom says it’ll get better for me, too, but I don’t think so. I know everyone’s different, but I really think I’m gonna be one of those who wants one even after it’s been a year. And even longer, too.

Ma asked for a list of all the flags we’ve got that aren’t worn, so I typed her an inventory of them, which she says she’ll file away. She also shipped out another box to us and asked if Tom reads books, cuz she’s got a good book that deals with computers for him. Also, another T-shirt for him, but she says that this one’s special. I hope so, cuz we both have a million tees.

I told them we sent away for a batch of animal pictures I shot and that I wanted to know if they wanted me to hold off the mice since there’s gonna be pictures of Gizzy the mouse and since a lot of people don’t care to look at them. They said to send whatever I like, though.

This is an inconclusive report on the sick fuck next door, cuz I’m not sure if it was him that just banged in over there or not, but it fits his MO. After the final beat of music, I didn’t hear a door at all. Not even one shut softly, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was him cuz he’s a night person and cuz the serious door slamming basically only went on during the dog’s existence. I tell you - it’s either dog and doors or music. Unfortunately, he’s still parking deep in the carport and with the way things are now set up around here, I can’t see if there’s a car there for sure now. It’s too much of a hassle and it’s not worth it. Also, Tom’s been checking, and if there’s a car there at 4:30 when he gets in this morning, then it’s obvious he stayed the night and that that was really him. Just in case, though, I am gonna be banging outside in a little while (give the freeloaders time to fall asleep if that was he who really came in almost a half-hour ago), and although God may ensure I’m wasting my time and allow them to sleep through it, I’m still gonna hope they hear it, cuz I’m not gonna be hearing them without them hearing me anymore. I’ll also take my chances with whatever God may do to me for it, too.

I can tell you one thing for sure… There’s no way in hell they’ll give me a reaction and let me know it’s waking them up if it is waking them up. It really would take something like me shooting a dog of theirs before they had anything to do with me. And it’d only be through the courts.

I really thank God for answering a couple of prayers of mine and in a sense, he really did answer them, too. Just one of them many years later than I first requested, and another in a partial kind of way. Well, I prayed for years for him to help me help myself quit smoking and I also prayed to have them move next door. The last time I did this was around our little screaming match. Well, he didn’t have them move, but he sure took care of the dog. So, I told him that if he did have anything to do with the dog’s removal - thanks.

I still wish God would grant me my first best and biggest dreams, besides the secondary ones, but some wishes granted are better than no wishes granted cuz that’s usually how it is for me. I either don’t get what I want at all, or I get it after a million years, or I only get a part of it.

Spunky’s really getting to be just about a full-grown pig. It’s almost time for his first nail trim.

Later…

I got my full flow, I’m not stuck, yet I’m now 113 pounds!! I’m starting to feel really desperate here about losing weight, but it’s just sooooo fucking hard. I’ve made such a pig of myself over the last few years. So now that my body is used to having more than just a few bites a day, I can’t starve for a few hours, let alone for a few days. My metabolism is getting slower and slower, and I’m not in my early to mid-20s anymore, either.

Once again I tried to puke after eating but just couldn’t bring myself to do anything so gross. They say that this can be addicting, but after quitting smoking for a month, I think that I could break any addiction I could ever have. If I starved, though, I wouldn’t have to worry about trying to do any disgusting puking, but that’s so much easier said than done for someone who’s hungry all the time and who can’t stand the hunger pains. Still, I think that if I can deal with cigarette cravings, I can deal with being hungry all the time. That’s something that I can adapt to and that’s something that will go away in time. Cigarette cravings won’t. I just have to tell myself that given the fact that I’m sick of being a frump, sick of most of my clothes not fitting, then knowing that I’ll never be pregnant and that I’ll keep gaining weight if I keep not smoking, it’s time to do something about it. I have to just stop eating and deal with being hungry. That is something that will go away, unlike the cigarette cravings.

Tom said that it’s not so much that the bed itself is gonna change us, but that the bed, which is an environmental change/lifestyle change, will lead to our sex lives changing. Uh-huh. Right. Well, like I said, I’m not getting pregnant and I’m not gonna drop the 13-16 pounds I need to drop by wishing I could drop it, so I gotta starve, puke, or do something!

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 1997 To get the asshole out of the way first - I heard him come and go with the music at a so-so volume and we’re wondering if he isn’t spending less time there. I hope so! And I hope he doesn’t come back full-time in the spring again, either.

Late last night my period began, little by little. I still haven’t had a full flow yet, but it’s normal for me to spot the day before having a full flow. I always get some type of full flow, though.

I wish that God could’ve allowed me to get pregnant last month, and just let us enjoy this new bed we’re gonna get without any other worries, like problems with sex/sterility. I wish God could’ve allowed me to get pregnant 3 years ago, but if God was ever just waiting for the perfect time, I really don’t see why this wouldn’t be it. I mean, we’ve worked so hard to get to where we are now and get this bed, and the not smoking’s been so hard, and I’ve wanted a kid long enough, so if we aren’t deserving of a kid at this point, and if now isn’t the right time, then God really does hate me. You don’t have to deserve a child in order to have one, as many non-deserving people have them all the time, but since God’s standards are so high for me, if this isn’t it, then I was right all along - it’ll never happen. As far as I can see, though, how much more right, ready, and deserving of a child can we be at this time? I think that if anyone deserves to enjoy this bed and the closeness and normalcy it’ll bring, have a normal, full-time sex life, and have a child, it’s us. I think we’ve been tested enough by God and that we’ve paid our dues dearly and have waited enough for wonderful things like this to happen. However, even though it’s been a miraculous month as of tomorrow since it will be one month since I quit smoking, I haven’t forgotten how God works with me. The bigger the dream, the more I can count on it as always being just that - a dream. There’s a big difference between moving to the desert and quitting smoking, compared to my having a child and God knows it.

There are times I can end up wrong about the things I say that can’t happen, then there are the times I could never end up wrong, no matter how much I wish to hell I could.

Even if I know better, the change I see in Tom lately, since we began making serious plans for the bed and especially since I quit smoking, is his confidence. He was always overly confident. Way too confident. But this is different. I’ve never heard him sound surer of himself when he says that the sex will turn out full-time and normal and that I’ll get pregnant, and you know he’s said that a billion times. There’s something different about it this time, though. Does he know something I don’t? I wonder if like God, he’s been waiting for the perfect time to let go, but just hasn’t said so. If that’s been the case and if he’s been waiting till what he felt was the perfect time to cum like hell, then fine, as long as he does it in the long run, and the long run being real soon, too. In a way, I wish I could know for sure that that has been the case all along, cuz then it’d ease my fears that he’s been full of fears about a kid. Or a miscarriage.

As excited as I am about this bed, which we hope to hell we can order tomorrow and that the Visa card comes in the mail, I’m also quite nervous about it. What if things aren’t the same? What if they’re worse? I knew that as used to as I am with his games, how am I gonna deal with his lying this time around, under these new circumstances? Well, if things can’t get better then I at least hope that they don’t get worse. Better to have things be the same than get worse. He said the bed and the not smoking were what would help his so-called problem. So far, the fact that I haven’t smoked for a month has only produced a slight increase in the sex but the sex has still been the same - one-sided. I usually get off and he gets hard. Hell, I don’t think he’s cum since July or August (I quit charting that and my periods), but how can I believe yet another one of his oh-so-sure cures?

The cat and kittens are warming up to me even more, but not much more. One of the kittens almost took a piece of food out of my hand, but not quite. We’re gonna put chicken wire on the top of the hutch, although I still don’t think they’ll ever be brave enough or even want to live inside some of the time.

[pines-troz]

Weekend With The Warners Chapter Two - Animaniacs & Pinky and The Brain

Summary: When the CEO tasks Pinky and The Brain with the important assignment of watching over the Warners for the weekend, Brain is prepared for any antics that the children have in store. What he didn’t take into account was forming a familial bond with the kids. 

Word Count: 3,017

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27849962/chapters/68388166 

The mice continued on their way through the studio lot, holding hands as they went. As they found themselves alone near the lot entrance, Brain decided to discuss his latest plan with his partner.

“Listen close, Pinky, for I have devised a surefire plan to take over the world. Your ingenious decision of choosing The Iron Giant as our date night movie the other evening has greatly inspired me, Pinky. We will build a giant robot to assert our dominance over humanity!” Brain eagerly declared, choosing to ignore the pacifist message of the beloved animated movie. “I’ve already made calculations for our finances, and we would need exactly five million dollars to buy the necessary parts. Fortunately, I’ve come up with a brilliant way to acquire the funds.” 

Brain pulled Pinky closer as he explained. “We will start a family-friendly crafts tutorial channel on YouTube, teaching children how to make slime among other wholesome DIY-projects. After we grow a substantial following, we’ll shamelessly peddle overpriced merchandise! Once we make a fortune from selling our wares, we will then purchase the necessary materials to construct our mech which we will use to intimidate the Canadian Prime Minister and ascend to power!” 

The Brain began to chuckle evilly, and Pinky joined in with his eager giggling. 

“But first, we must purchase filming equipment from the electronics store and return to the lab!” Brain commanded. 

“Say Brain, how do you spell DIY?” Pinky asked, taking out a pen and notebook. 

Brain blushed furiously upon hearing his boyfriend’s moronic question. “Pinky, you are without a doubt the most imbecilic mouse I’ve ever met. But, by Ptolomey, I am madly in love with you.” 

“Aw Brain!” Pinky cooed, moving his tail into the shape of a heart. 

As the lab mice were about to exit the movie lot, they were stopped by Ralph the security guard. 

“Uh, hold it right there.” The bumbling guard ordered. “The CEO wants me to bring you two to her office by cone, duh-I mean drone!” 

The mice were immediately swooped into a net and carried above by the drone. Ralph had some difficulty controlling the drone, but he managed to fly the rodent actors over to the main office building in the middle of the studio lot. 

“This is utterly mortifying.” Brain commented as he tried to prop himself into a more comfortable position. 

“Oh cheer up, Brain,” Pinky consoled. “Think of it like we’re on a magic carpet ride!” The taller mouse wrapped his arm around Brain, pulling him close as he began to sing. “I can show you the worl-”

But Brain clapped his hand over Pinky’s mouth while wearing an indignant frown. “Don’t.” The smaller mouse spat.

As the drone flew through an open window in the office building, the mice were immediately greeted by the company CEO, Nora Rita Norita. The businesswoman brought out a pair of scissors, cutting through the net. Upon liberation, the mice fell down onto one of the leather chairs facing the front of her desk. 

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.” Ms. Norita addressed. 

“Frankly I would have preferred some prior notification about this emergency meeting, such as an email or a text message, as opposed to being captured in a drone and flown over against my will, but here we are.” Brain soured. 

“Are we in trouble?” Pinky asked worriedly. The taller mouse paced back and forth on the chair as he started to panic. “I swear I didn’t do anything wrong! I’m innocent, I tell you! Innocent! You can’t make me go back to the big house!” 

“No, I can assure you that you’re not in any serious trouble.” The CEO told the buck-toothed mouse.

Pinky was immediately relieved by the news. “Oh thank goodness.” He sighed. “Sorry if I got a little carried away there.” 

“A little?” Brain snapped sardonically. 

“Gentlemen,” Ms. Norita curtly alerted the mice, who gave her their undivided attention. “I’ve called you here because I have an important task for you to complete over the weekend. I have a very important business conference with some very important people in the Warner Brother’s office and I don’t want the Warner children to cause any problems. And since I became aware of your friendly rapport with the Warners, I have decided to give you two the important task of watching over the Warners starting tomorrow afternoon, where you will take care of them outside of the movie studio until Sunday evening.” 

Pinky stood up and cheered. “Oh, we’re going to have so much fun with the little angels over the weekend!”

Brain, on the other hand, was shocked that the CEO would disrupt his regular routine and plans for world domination, one of the few things he had complete control over. 

The CEO confidently smiled, happy that at least one of them was on board. “And to sweeten the offer, I already booked a nearby hotel with five-star accommodations and you can use the company credit card for any additional payments over the weekend that aren’t related to world domination.” She said, showcasing the golden credit card. Pinky’s eyes glistened as he gazed at the card, clearly enamored by how shiny it was. Brain, however, let out a defeated groan since he couldn’t use the card for his own selfish purposes. 

Ms. Norita continued to speak. “I sent you all the information in an email, and-”

“Why are you assigning us to complete this task?” Brain interrupted. 

“Because I noticed how well you and your partner get along with the Warners.” The CEO answered with feigned enthusiasm. “And who can do a better job at watching those troublesome kids than people who could put up with their antics.” 

Brain cringed when she referred to the energetic kids as mere troublemakers. He genuinely enjoyed being around the Warners ever since the original run of Animaniacs. He recalled the days where he and Pinky spared some of their free time to check in on the Warners. From sharing the same table during lunch hour to visiting them in their home in the water tower before sunset, when the mice had to leave for Acme Labs. Even though the kids had a knack for craziness, the Warners were genuinely good kids who craved validation and attention. 

But despite being on good terms with the children, Brain was far too upset that his usual schedule had been suddenly modified by a force outside of his control. He didn’t want another chance to take over the world to skip off into the sunset. 

“But Pinky and I already have plans for the weekend!” Brain argued. “And besides, shouldn’t you recruit a more qualified candidate like Bugs Bunny?”

“He’s busy filming for the Looney Tunes Cartoons and the new Space Jam movie.” Ms. Norita explained. “And what, may I ask, did you have planned for the weekend that’s so important to you?” She asked dryly. 

“We were going to take over the world by making a crafts YouTube channel for the little kiddies!” Pinky answered. 

“I think you can put your little pet project on hold,” Ms. Norita explained to the smaller mouse. “So I suggest you accept the task like the grown-up that you are or I’ll fire you, inform the press it was a matter of ‘creative differences’ and have Edgwin on board as your replacement.” 

The two mice exchanged shocked and horrified glances at the sheer audacity the CEO had for even considering the idea of messing with their brilliant chemistry. 

“Why would you do something so cruel!?” Pinky remarked, but Brain gently took the taller mouse’s hands into his own. 

“Please, ignore my partner’s outburst, for I’m more than happy to cancel my weekend plans!” Brain exclaimed with a nervous chuckle. “After all, we do have the previous child-rearing experience, making us more than qualified for the job!” 

“That’s what I like to hear.” The CEO got up from her desk and walked over to the door, opening it up and gesturing the two mice to make their leave. “Have a fun weekend.” 

Brain grabbed Pinky by the hand and they made their jump from the chair onto the floor. The pudgy mouse tugged his lanky partner as they exited her office. 

Once the mice were gone, Nora Rita Nortita retrieved her cell phone, scrolled through her contacts until she found the name she was looking for. 

Inside the water tower, Wakko and Dot were watching a competitive baking show on Netflix while Yakko was snug in his ball pit bed, watching a shounen anime that Wakko constantly infodumped on his tablet while eating a bag of potato chips. While he initially watched the show so he could better connect with his sibling, the eldest Warner became emotionally invested in the story. As the big fight scene was about to start, he felt his smartphone vibrate in his pocket. The eldest Warner fished out his phone, saw Nora Rita Nortita’s picture on the home screen. He pressed pause on his tablet and quickly answered the call. 

“Yello, Warner residence! Totally responsible young adult Yakko Warner speaking!” He answered, trying to sound as mature as possible. 

“Hi, this is Nora Rita Norita.” The CEO answered. “And I have some rather exciting news to deliver.” 

“Oh?” Yakko replied in a casual tone. 

“As you may know, I will be holding an incredibly important conference this weekend, so I assigned Pinky and The Brain to watch over you and your siblings at a five-star hotel this weekend.” 

“Really!?” Yakko asked with child-like enthusiasm. “Pinky and The Brain are taking us to a fancy hotel this weekend! Oh man, that’s fantastic news!” 

Wakko and Dot paused their show and immediately rushed over to their brother’s bedside upon hearing the words ‘Pinky’, ‘The Brain’ and ‘fancy hotel’. 

“The mice will pick you up tomorrow in front of the water tower at noon, and you better not come back to the studio lot at any point before Sunday evening.” The CEO informed him. 

“You kidding? We rarely get to hang out with those guys, considering how busy they are trying to take over the world. So we intend to cherish every waking second with those two!” Yakko answered. 

“Great,” Norita drawled. “I’m sure the five of you will have a grand old time this weekend. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a power-meeting to attend.” 

Yakko heard the phone click on the other end, but he was too excited by the news to care about the CEO’s rude behavior. “Hey sibs! We’re spending the weekend with Pinky and the Brain!” The eldest Warner proclaimed. Wakko and Dot cheered uproariously, bouncing up and down with excitement. 

“Say, do you two remember during the original run of Animaniacs when those two would usually hang out with us on the studio lot whenever we weren’t filming for the show?” Yakko asked his siblings, feeling rather nostalgic. 

“Like how we’d sit at the same table at the commissary during lunchtime and they’d swing by the water tower?” Wakko reminisced. “Or how Pinky would make us bowls of macaroni and cheese, and Brain would read me my favorite picture books!” He reached into their hat and took out The Very Hungry Caterpillar and If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. 

“Or the times I’d give Pinky makeovers, and how we would pester Brain into taking us to McDonald’s!” Dot added as she eagerly clapped her hands. 

“Ah, those were the days!” Wakko blissfully sighed. 

“And not only do we get to relive those days again, but we’ll be staying at a luxury hotel! It’ll be like having a weekend-long sleepover!” Dot exclaimed. 

“Well sibs, I think it’s best if we start packing!” Yakko declared. The three siblings immediately took out their suitcases and began to pack away their essentials for their weekend vacation. 

Yakko put in a dozen pairs of brown slacks into his brown suitcase. Wakko took the refrigerator and stuffed it into their blue suitcase. Dot placed her finest attire into her purple suitcase. 

As the Warners continued to pack, they fondly remembered the good times during the original run of Animaniacs. While Yakko, Wakko, and Dot were mostly on their own, there were a handful of adults who spent quality time with them. Bugs Bunny, Slappy Squirrel, and Pinky and The Brain were their usual suspects. Bugs and Slappy usually entertained the kids with stories from the golden age of their careers and gave them helpful advice on thriving in the industry. Pinky and The Brain, however, proved to be a rare exception, since they’re genetically-altered lab mice and not technically toons. Regardless of their status, the mice would usually check in on the kids, make friendly conversation and share gossip, and indulge in their interests. But the mice always made sure to leave before the twilight, since they had to return to the lab and develop their schemes for world domination. And, like Bugs and Slappy, the mice never talked down to them and always treated them with kindness and respect. 

The Warners were eager to spend quality time with the mice once again. 

-                     -                       -                         -                       -

By the time evening rolled around, the mice returned to Acme Labs. When they arrived in their humble abode in the green cage, Brain decided to take some time to cope with the drastic change in his routine schedule by engaging in his deep breathing exercise. During his moments of self-reflection, Pinky looked on at his partner with loving eyes, proud that he was applying the techniques he learned from therapy through his own volition. The lanky mouse then put on his frilly green apron and scurried outside the cage to make his world-famous no-bake cheesecake for his roommate. 

Once Brain completed his mindful exercise, he came to the realization that he can make the most out of the weekend. He would receive some fulfillment from seeing Pinky happy. Additionally, spending time with the Warners would guarantee to bring some excitement to his nearly absent social life, and there was also the possibility that some of their antics could be a source of inspiration for potential plans for world domination. Everybody would win in this situation!

The mouse immediately went over to his tablet and began to conduct his research on the hotel and potential activities to do over the weekend. Finally accepting his role as weekend guardian, he was not going to do a sloppy job with the task he was assigned. 

“What common activities do most American families engage in during the weekend?” Brain pondered aloud. “Oh, I know, a trip to the library or an afternoon at the local park,” He muttered as he jotted down his thoughts on notebook paper. Then there were activities that required monetary exchange. Knowing that he would have full access to the company credit card, he was definitely going to have a field day with treating everyone to expensive spending sprees. Trips to the mall if the kids wanted anything in particular. Even splurging on the finest toy clothes that Pinky and himself would love to add to their wardrobes. Brain was also wildly determined to have at least one fancy fine-dining experience over the weekend!

Just as Brain neared completion in devising his plans and contingency plans for the weekend, Pinky arrived, carrying a big plate of cheesecake over to the wooden spool. 

“Oh Brain, I made you your favorite!” Pinky called out whilst flirtatiously fluttering his eyes. 

The pudgy mouse placed his work aside and eagerly rushed over to the makeshift table, where Pinky finished setting two additional plates and silverware. The lanky mouse gave his roommate a generous slice of cheesecake before taking a smaller portion for himself. Taking a fork, Brain scooped a piece of his cheesecake and ate it. The mouse was in a state of euphoria, savoring the scrumptious dessert. After allowing the cheesecake to melt into his mouth, he swallowed the pastry and let out a contented hum. 

“Pinky, your pastries are simply divine!” Brain complimented. 

Pinky blushed at the praise he received. “Aw Brain, I’m just happy that you like my cooking. Zort!” 

Brain took a napkin and wiped away the crumbs from the sides of his mouth. He decided to engage in some amiable small talk. “So Pinky, are you looking forward to our mini-vacation tomorrow?”

“Oh yes! I’m going to have a fun-fun, silly-willy time watching over the kids!” The lanky mouse cheered. But his grin slowly faded into a worrisome frown. “But Brain, while I was preparing the cheesecake, Jerry the Gerbil dropped by and he told me that the scientists were planning a big, month-long separation experiment starting Saturday!” 

“A month-long separation experiment?” Brain repeated with great concern. 

Pinky nodded. “He said that the scientists would take some of the rodents that roomed together and place them in different parts of the lab, where they would write about our emotions and stuff!” 

“That’s terrible news.” Brain remarked. “And what serendipitous timing…” 

“What do you mean, Brain?” Pinky inquired. He was surprised to see his roommate take his hands into his own. 

“Since we’ve been tasked to supervise the Warners over the weekend, we needn’t worry about the experiment.” Brain consoled his roommate as he caressed Pinky’s hands. “We would be outside of the lab during the beginning phase of the experiment and by the time we return, the scientists would have already selected the other poor souls residing in the lab as their test subjects, and we would avoid any emotional trauma that would come from participating in the cruel test in its entirety.” 

“Oh, that’s a relief!” Pinky sighed.

“So there’s no need to dwell on such things, Pinky.” Brain soothed. “Try to divert all of your energy and attention on preparing for our little trip.” 

“Right-o!” Pinky concurred with renewed enthusiasm. The mouse released himself from Brain’s hold and retrieved his floral printed suitcase. 

“Now make sure to pack all your essentials,” Brain commanded. “I have a feeling that we are about to have an unforgettable weekend.” 

AN: Another quick chapter that’s essentially build-up for what’s to come. When it came to writing Brain’s initial refusal to take the job, I felt like having him freak out over not having control over his regular routine is more in-character to him, plus with the added stakes of the CEO threatening to fire him. So he just swallows his pride and tries to make the most out of the situation. 

I also included one of my other headcanons where The Warners had a handful of toon guardians who checked in on them on a regular basis (Pinky and the Brain, Slappy Squirrel, Bugs Bunny) because they’re well aware of how poorly the industry treats people like them and they want to make sure that the kids are okay. 

Jerry the Gerbil was actually a reference to the Pinky and The Brain episode ‘The Family That Poits Together, Narfs Together’. We don’t see him at all, but Brain and Pinky reference him. Plus it seemed like the most logical choice to have Pinky get the news of the experiment from another rodent in the lab. And yes, this plot point will come back into play later in the story. 

And I also wanted to have a scene where Pinky makes cheesecake for Brain, as a nice little nod to Future Brain (which is easily my favorite segment from the reboot) and I love the idea of Pinky baking food for Brain, and it gave me a great excuse to write some domestic bliss between the two!

And I want to give a special thanks to @themurphyzone for beta reading this chapter!

The next chapter will be considerably longer, so it may take a bit to post it up, but it’s full of fluff and fun bonding scenarios. 

Thanks for reading!

[llendrinall]

So i once read a fic where Draco had a small pet and now i really wanna read something where he just keeps getting small pets. He's got an Elf owl, a rusty spotted cat, a small snake (Dk any small snake breeds), a squirrel, a guinea pig, a Pygmy Rabbit, 2 SUGAR GLIDERS, a Fennec Fox, a ferret. Like ik this makes no sence but i legit wanna read a gaint crack fic where he just keeps getting small animals and everyone is just like "????"

But, but, but, Draco is not collecting tiny animals. There is a perfectly reasonable explanation.

Draco has an elf owl because a respectable independent wizard must have an owl, and after the eagle owl from his youth he wanted something different. Nothing else to it.

He does not have a rusty spotted cat. It is a wild animal, a threatened wild animal, and it would be irresponsible to have one as a pet. Aramis’ previous owner (Aramis is Draco’s rusty-spotted cat) was an idiot and Draco took great pleasure in winning Aramis in a bet. He tried to move Aramis to an adequate environment, but by then time he figured out how to contact the zoo Aramis had grown too used to Draco and it would be cruel to part from him.

There are merely three native snakes in Britain: the adder, the barred grass snake and the smooth snake. Cora, at 55 cm is a bit short for a smooth snake, but she is still lovely. Draco found her by chance in a basket of motted goldcrest eggs he had ordered at the apothecary and what was he supposed to do then? Kill her? She is not poisonous, she mostly eats mice and small lizards and, according to Harry Potter, calls Draco “Sun”. Cora thinks that Draco is made of the sun, that he is some sort of Sun God. Of course Draco will behave accordingly. Not many people believe in him, so he will take Cora’s admiration any day.

Draco does not have a squirrel. Renata belongs to herself. She just likes to sit with Draco when he is reading in the manor’s garden. Sometimes, if she has something to tell him, she climbs to his window and knocks. No, there is not a parseltongue for squirrels, that’s stupid, and Draco is not a squirrel-tongue, he just understands her very well. He also suspects that Hermione’s gift of a hat is some sort of stupid hidden joke, but Renata and Draco are above such childish humour.

The guinea pig belongs to Teddy. Only Teddy, odd child that he is, is terrified of rodents. Draco doesn’t know why he is the one stuck with Roderick when Teddy has a perfectly nice godfather right there who should take his responsibilities more seriously. It’s preposterous.

(Did he call Harry perfectly nice? Draco is sure he did not).

The pigmy rabbit might be Draco’s fault. After Roderick’s fiasco, Draco decided to acquire a properly fluffy and cute pet for Teddy. But apparently pygmy bunnies have enough rodent-like qualities to scare Teddy, so Draco has Ferdinand’s wardenship until such a time when Teddy is grown past his silly rodent aversion and realizes how cute Ferdinand is.

The sugar glides were a fashion accessory of some witch or another in a Ministry gala. (Ok, they belonged to Felicity Bullstrode-Greengrass). They jumped from her shoulders into a passing drink tray and from there to the floor, scampered under a table, climbed up a pillar, glided beautifully across the hall miraculously avoiding any and all spells trying to catch them, landed on Justin Finch-Fletchley’s head, jumped into a flower arrangement and scurried between the decorations until they arrived near the balcony door where Draco was standing, bored out of his mind and debating whether or not he should take up smoking or if he should jump out of the balcony instead to see what would happen.

(The Ministry of Magic is underground, so the panorama in windows and balconies is the result of a spell).

The sugar gliders couldn’t escape through the balcony route and after all that effort, how could Draco not offer them shelter under his coat? It’s practically his duty as a Slytherin to secret away two living fashion accessories and later train them into becoming criminal accessories. Ha. Haha.

Draco won Sana, the cheeky fennec fox, from the same arrogant wizard who used to own Aramis. This time Draco also got him arrested because that was his actual purpose in meeting him, to get him to confess where he was keeping the cargo. The bet was a distraction until the Aurors arrived, and Draco won fair and square. He asked Ron Weasley what was he supposed to do with her, but apparently they were busy, Draco, some of them had to break a poison curse before they could even begin to move the cargo, Draco, just take the weird rabbit cat and go.

So Draco took Sana in his arms and left. She likes Aramis well enough and they spend their days napping under a sun ray in the library.

Oddly enough, Draco will admit that he has a pet ferret, but only because that’s preferable to admitting that one idle summer he got it in his head that he should try becoming an animagus (unregistered, of course, because he might not be a dark wizard but he is far from reformed) and it turned out that is his animagus form.

So, as you can see, Draco doesn’t have any pets. He has a ferret, but that’s a lie.

[emeraldbabygirl]

It was past midnight. Taebin sat on the couch spaced out right next to Kyubin who was very into yet another nature documentary. Taebin was tired of seeing the way snakes catch the little fied mice and the way all those little fire ants carry their food from place to place. He watched all the scenes of the waterfalls and running streams, the way the rain slowly wet the lands and dropped off leaves. He watched all the animals come out during spring to mate and all the fox babies playing and chasing each other in a random grassy field. Taebin must have fell asleep at least twice. One minute the tv showed polar bear cubs learning how to catch fish and the next it showed something that Taebin could only describe as a dessert lobster.

Taebin wanted to watch something else but as he looked over at Kyubin he sighed. He knew how much Kyubin loved staying up into the wee hours of the morning watching any kind of documentary that has nature or animals in them. Last week Kyubin watched the three hour special about the ocean and all the creatures living there. It was something Kyubin loved and found so interesting and Taebin found it adorable and wanted to watch with him but always found it so boring.

Kyubin’s long legs were propped up on the coffee table which held all the bottles of iced tea and other snacks that Taebin had mostly devoured. In Kyubin’s big arms he held a bowl of popcorn that would look giant sized in Taebin’s arms. The window was still open as it was a hot summer day and Kyubin wanted some cool air to cool off their little house. Kyubin’s shorts really showed off how long his legs actually were, a little clip held Kyubin’s long hair back to show his pretty forehead that Taebin loves to kiss before bed. Taebin was also wearing shorts and a plain tee-shirt like Kyubin.

Taebin was staring at the way Kyubin was so ingrossed in the program that he jumped when he realized Kyubin’s eyes came into contact with his. It didn’t matter how many times they had locked eyes Taebin always blushed when Kyubin’s dark brown eyes looked into his. Taebin’s heart never failed to flutter his stomach was never short of butterflies whenever he looked at Kyubin.

“What?” Kyubin asked smiling. Kyubin’s eyes stayed on Taebin’s. Taebin struggled to open his mouth to say something. He held his breath and snatched a piece of popcorn from the bowl. Smiling to himself Kyubin went back to watching the documentary while Taebin couldn’t get his heart to stop beating so fast. If Taebin turned the fan on would it look suspicious? Why is the fan on? Oh just embarrassed from how easily I get flustered because I’m madly in love with you Kyubin. Taebin thought to himself. He slowly let out his breath and scooted right into Kyubin’s bubble wasting no time to grab his right hand and hold it in his.

Taebin snuggled closer into Kyubin and this time payed attention to the baby bunnies playing and the salmon swimming up stream and the birds flying in whatever formation they wanted and the bats leaving the cave at night to catch bugs and avoiding other night creatures. Taebin focused on Kyubin’s documentaries now because he knew how much Kyubin loved them and he also knew how much he loved being in the same space as Kyubin. Taebin also loved how much he still got butterflies in his stomach after all the years of them being together. Watching documentaries with Kyubin was worth it because Taebin was still to this day very much in love with Kyubin.

This one just came out of nowhere and I really wanted to write a Taebin fic. Ion know if this counts as a drabble or not so I didn’t tag drabbles. Anyway, it’s not the first Taebin fic I wanted to write my other ones in my drafts. Anyway I thought it was cute. For some reason if feels weird to write Onlyoneof fics that the reader is a female like if it’s specifically an ooo member and a female reader that seems strange to me like all my ooo thoughts are gay anyway honestly so this just feels more comfortable to me? Also because I love Taebin supremacy.

[get-lost-in-fanfiction]

LOST - Another Story

Rating: M

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: Here’s Confidence Man! Sawyer is all wishy washy with Amelia in this episode, but it turns out for good in the end :) Enjoy!

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Confidence Man

I’m sitting on the beach as always. My stay at the cave was less than comfortable and I don’t understand how any of those chumps think it’s a good place to “dig in.” Sawyer wasn’t around when I got back, so I changed my clothes and sat down in my usual thinking spot. I turn my head and catch a glimpse of Kate hauling bananas up the beach. Then it hits me, Confidence Man. Oh shit. I scramble to my feet and intercept Kate before she gets too far.

“Hey Kate!” I greet as I approach her, “Need help with those?”

Kate looks relieved as she begins to gather them up and hand them to me, score, “Oh would you Amelia? My back’s killing me.”

“Yeah no problem!” I answer, taking the bananas and slinging them over my shoulders, “Where do you want them?”

Kate points down the beach, past where there’s a small pile of clothes and a book, “Just down there is fine.”

“Okay! Cool, see you later Kate,” I say and Kate walks away from me. I start to make my way towards where I know Sawyer’s clothes to be.

I make it and smile when I find Sawyer's clothes and a paperback edition of Watership Down.

“Hell of a book,” I hear Sawyer call from the ocean, “It's about bunnies.” I sigh in relief, the interaction is the same.

I look Sawyer up and down as he comes out of the water naked, and I feel a blush creep over my face. “Must be cold without your trunks,” I say, making no effort to keep the amusement out of my voice.

“You bet. How about you come a little closer and warm me up?” Sawyer replies with a cheeky grin, and I half want to do what he says.

Instead I feel myself shaking my head with a smile, “You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Sawyer.” And with that I walk away to where Kate said the bananas were supposed to go.

I wait until Sawyer trails off into the jungle before I go hunting for a book. I need something to do other than sit on the beach all day getting a sunburn. Except, I don’t find myself getting burnt, or even remotely tan for that matter. Probably more Island magic, or maybe it’s TV magic doing the work in this weird reality I find myself in. I strike gold, Of Mice and Men, works for me. I read it in high school once, so I think it’s about time I read it again.

I sneak out of Sawyer’s tent and into my own, tossing the book aside to open the flaps of my tent. Once they’re secured I settle down on one of my airline seats and open the book to chapter one. Not a few minutes into the book I hear a rustling sound outside of my tent. I sigh and put my book aside before popping my head out of the tent. Oh, it’s Boone.

“Boone?” I call and he shoots his head up, hands full of Sawyer’s stuff.

“Uh Amelia- It’s not what it looks like,” Boone says, panic clear in his voice. Then Sawyer shows up.

“What are you doing in my stuff, son?” Sawyer interrogates.

“Uhhh,” Boone tries to answer, but Sawyer sucker punches him right in the nose. I yelp in surprise, they didn’t show this in the show.

I scramble to my feet to try and get Sawyer off Boone, but he pushes me away and I fall in the sand. This sets Boone off, and he tries to punch Sawyer back. I cry out again when Sawyer’s fists connects with Boone’s nose. He starts bleeding and rushes at Sawyer again, but Sawyer catches him and punches his face. Suddenly Shannon is there and Sawyer is off and away from Boone. Shannon scrutinizes me and drags Boone away, to the caves. I stand up in a hurry.

“What was that for!” I shout at Sawyer and he waves a hand at me dismissively.

“Sawyer..” I plead, brushing the sand off my pants. “Why did you have to hit him? And why didn’t you stop?”

“He was going through my stuff,” Sawyer gruffs, not looking at me as he puts his things back in order.

“You didn’t have to react like that,” I reply calmly.

“Betcha knew I would do that,” Sawyer grumbles.

“What?” I ask, but I know what he said.

“Nothing,” Sawyer replies, but he pauses as he looos through his stuff, “Did you take a book.”

Guilt floods my stomach as Sawyer turns to face me, “Yeah..” I mumble, “Of Mice and Men…” I look down, unable to meet Sawyer’s eyes. He’s already in a bad mood from Boone, and even if I know he won’t hurt me I’m still a bit afraid.

“Just give it back when you’re done,” He says and I snap my head up. Sawyer is already walking away and I just stare at him in disbelief. At least I know he has a soft spot for me.

A little while later, Sawyer comes back to our tents in a huff. I don’t remember why he’s so petulant in this episode. Probably because it’s his centric episode and the writers have to show what a “bad guy” Sawyer is. Lucky for me I know that he’s nothing but a big softy with a lot of grief at the end. Sawyer sits and starts to read his letter, and I can almost feel the air turn sour.  He then pulls out a cigarette and begins smoking it. I shake my head and suddenly Jack shows up and starts going through Sawyer's stuff. Sawyer folds his letter fast and I stand up.

“Where is it?” Jack demands.

“Hey, Doc. Long time no see,” Sawyer says casually and I walk over slowly.

“Jack?” I ask, sounding remarkably like Kate. But Jack ignores me.

“Where is it?” Jack spits.

“Where's what?” Sawyer shoots back, dropping his false nice tone.

“The girl's asthma medicine. Shannon -- her inhalers.”

“Oh, that.”

“You attacked a kid for trying to help his sick sister.”

“No, I whooped a thief cuz he was going through my stuff,” Sawyer huffs.

“Sawyer!” I call, feeling indignant. He ignores me too.

“Yours?” Jack says with a small laugh, “What makes it yours? What, you think you can just take something out of a suitcase and that makes it yours?”

“Which I had to move because everybody just wants to help themselves,” Sawyer interjects, “Look, I don't know what kind of commie share-fest you're running over in cave town, but down here possession's 9/10ths. And a man's got a right to protect his property.”

“Get up,” Jack threatens.

“Why, you want to see who's taller?” Sawyer jests.

“Get up.”

“You sure you want to make this your problem, Doc?”

“Oh yeah. I'm sure,” Jack says, his voice full of malice.

Sawyer finally gets up. Just as he does Kate enters the tent with a side glance at me. My arms are crossed over my chest and I huff in the direction of Jack and Sawyer. She seems to get the message, at least I hope she does.

“Hey, what's going on here?” Kate asks, but no one answers her. Jack just walks away, and Kate follows. With one last withering glance at Sawyer I turn on my heel and follow them.

“I'm going to kill him,” I can hear Jack say as I run up to the both of them.

“That's not going to help us get the medicine,” Kate reasons then turns to me, “Hey Amelia.”

I raise my hand in a small wave and then bend over with my hands on my knees to catch my breath.

“Maybe not, but it'll feel good,” Jack replies and then nods to me. I nod back.

“So what's stopping you?” Kate asks.

“We're not savages, Kate. Not yet,” Jack replies in a dark tone.

“Let me talk to Sawyer,” I cut in, stealing the line from Kate. Jack turns to me.

“What makes you think he's going to listen to you?” Jack asks, putting his hands on his hips like he always does.

“I think we have a connection,” I say, looking over at Kate. She doesn’t look at me, she’s staring down at the sand with a hard expression.

“Do you?”

“Please.”

Jack raises his hands in defeat, “If you can find him, be my guest.” I nod and he and Kate walk away. I do feel guilty every time I steal a line, but how else am I supposed to make myself relevant? I’m not supposed to be here, and I’m manipulating things to make sure I don’t sit around on the beach all day.

I walk away from where we were all standing, and amble my way towards where Sawyer is chopping wood near the end of the beach. I sigh to myself as I walk up behind him. I lean up against the tree he’s under and wait a beat. Sawyer chops a piece of wood and I clear my throat.

“What do you want?” I ask, and Sawyer turns his head to look at me.

A smile plays on his face as he answers, “Excuse me?”

“What do you want, Sawyer?” I repeat, and he just shakes his head and turns back to the wood.

“Blue eyes, I got so many answers to that question, I wouldn't even know where to start.”

“What do you want for the inhalers?” I sigh, because I know the answer. Sawyer seems to know this too.

“Ah, good question. Hang on a tick. What do I want? A kiss ought to do it.”

I feel myself stumble back, “W-What?” I choke out, I wasn’t expecting that answer. Sawyer turns around.

“A kiss, from you, right now?” He doesn’t seem serious, but the fluttering in my stomach makes me want to believe him. He’s just playing mind games with me.

“Why not from Kate? Don’t you like her better?” I ask as confidently as I can as I cross my arms over my chest.

“But you’re right here blue eyes, what’s a man to do?” Sawyer croons and I take a step back as he steps forward.

“I don't- I dont b-buy it,” I stumble as I speak.

“Buy what?” Sawyer asks.

“The act,” I say as I take a deep breath to steady myself, “You try too hard, Sawyer. I ask you to help a woman who can't breath and you want me to kiss you? Nobody's that disgusting. I know you, you know.”

“You don’t know jack, stop saying that,” Sawyer spits at me. What did I do to deserve this treatment?

“That piece of paper -- the one you keep in your pocket,” I begin, “I know the expression on your face when you read it and I know how carefully you fold it up. I know it means something to you. So you can play games all you want, but I know there's a human being in there somewhere. Give me the medication.”

“You think you understand me?” Sawyer asks menacingly.

“Yeah. I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” I say confidently back.

“Shut up,” Sawyer says and I flinch at him, “You want to know what kind of human being I am?” He takes the letter out of his pocket and hands it to me, “Read it. Read it. Out loud.”

“James I already-” I try to say.

“No. Just read it,” He growls and I realize it was a bad idea to call him by his real name.

I take a deep breath and begin to read, out loud, “Dear Mr. Sawyer, you don't know who I am but I know who you are and I know what you done. You had sex with my mother and then you stole my dad's money all away. So he got angry and he killed my mother and then he killed himself, too.”

“Don't stop now. You're just getting to the good part,” Sawyer cuts in sarcasally.

“All I know is your name. But one of these days I'm going to find you and I'm going to give you this letter so you'll remember what you done to me. You killed my parents, Mr. Sawyer,” I finish reading and I look at my feet. Maybe I provoked him too much.

“Now about that kiss... I didn't think so,” Sawyer says and he walks past me away from the wood. I sink into the sand next to the tree as I swallow the burning feeling in my throat.

Trudging back to the beach I notice Sawyer gathering up some things. I know he’s going to the caves, and he’s going to get punched. I run up to him.

“Wait Sawyer-,” I call as I approach him, “I want to go with you.”

“You don’t know where I’m headed,” Sawyer says coolly and I shake my head.

“The caves? To get water?” I offer with a feigned air of confidence.

“Fine, get your pack and some water bottles and let’s go.”

“Great, thanks,” I reply, feeling annoyed.

We walk through the jungle together for a while before Sawyer even speaks up. I was beginning to wonder if he was going to freeze me out.

“Why do you keep coming around?” He asks, keeping his eyes straightforward on the path.

“Well um, I know that you’re making an enemy of people on this Island and I want to be a.. a fall back?” I offer weakly. While it’s not a lie it’s not the complete truth. I want him to trust me and not get upset with me.

Sawyer just lets out a huff as we make it up to the caves. We walk over to where the water is and Sawyer bends down to get some. I keep my eyes away from the people in the caves as Jack approaches.

“Give me the inhalers -- now,” Jack demands to Sawyer, not even looking at me.

“Hell, I wondered when you were going to stop asking nice,” Sawyer drawls as he makes to stand. Jack lunges in and punches him. I flinch and make a noise.

“Well, it's about time, cowboy. Been telling you since day one, we're in the wild. Didn't think you had it in you,” Sawyer taunts and Jack punches him again.

“Hey! Stop it you two!” I yell out, the others in the cave glands at me but the two men ignore me.

“That all you got?” Sawyer huffs, flicking his sweaty head out of his face. Jack stops and looks around, noticing that everyone is watching him. He shakes his head and walks away. Sawyer breathes heavily and stares daggers at the cave people.

“C’mon Sawyer,” I say quietly, filling up some bottles and leading Sawyer out of the caves to make our way back to the beach.

After Sawyer and I made it back from the caves. We both settle down next to one another on the airline seats outside of Sawyer’s tent. Sawyer decided to take a nap so I decide to continue to read Of Mice and Men. It’s weird, though, sitting silently next to Sawyer as he sleeps and I read. I think forward to the Dharmaville days ahead, and I hope we’ll be able to do it more. Then my stomach turns and I remember Juliet. I scratch the back of my head and tuck into my book.

A few minutes later I hear crunching in the sand. I look up from my book and see Sayid approaching with a large metal pipe. Sayid holds a finger up to his lips to signal silence and I scramble out of my seat towards him.

“Sayid you can be serious!” I loud-whisper to him, pressing a hand to his chest to stop him.

“He did this to himself,” Sayid replies, pushing right past me to poise the big metal pipe over Sawyer's head. Sawyer jerks awake and without a smile Sayid says, “Good morning,” and slams the pipe down onto Sawyer. I let out a yelp in protest.

Then Jack shows up and begins to gather Sawyer out of his seat. Then he and Sayid begin dragging Sawyer away. I run up beside them, and Kate soon joins us.

“What are you doing? Jack!” Kate yells.

“This was Sawyer's choice, not mine,” Jack says stoically.

“If you do this!” Kate begins, but her next statement is cut off. I feel something hit the back of my head and spots dance over my vision. I fall to the sand as black engulfs me.

I’m jerked awake by a wave of cold water being thrown onto me. I look wildly around and see Jack holding a bucket looking guilty. I look to my left and see Sawyer tied to a tree. Sayid splashes water on his face to bring him to.

“Well, ain't you the brave one, jumping a guy while he's napping,” Sawyer drawls and then looks between Sayid and Jack, “Uh-oh, I'm in trouble now, ain't I?”

“I guess we both are,” I mumble to myself and I notice Sawyer turn his head towards me.

“Sawyer, I'm giving you the chance to do the right thing. Now, all I want is the asthma medicine. Just tell me where the inhalers are and we'll stop,” Jack explains to Sawyer.

“Stop what, Chico?” Sawyer asks and I look over to see Sayid making bamboo spikes.

“It doesn't have to be this way,” Jack tries to say.

“Yeah, it does,” Sawyer replies.

“No! It doesn’t, Sawyer please,” I try to beg.

“Oh and you’ve got blue eyes here too?” Sawyer asks with a chuckle, “I must be in a load of trouble then.” Jack opens his mouth to speak, but Sayid cuts in with a speech.

“We do not have bamboo in Iraq, although we do have something similar -- reeds. But their effect is the same when the shoots are inserted underneath the fingernails,” Sayid explains in a menacing voice, and I can feel my heart rate increase rapidly. I hate this scene, I hate this scene.

“You know what I think, Ali. I think you've never actually tortured anybody in your life,” Sawyer taunts, and I wince for him.

“Unfortunately for us both, you're wrong,” Sayid replies as he slowly begins to move behind Sawyer. I shut my eyes as Sayid starts with the bamboo under the fingernails.

“That's it? That's all you got? Splinters? No wonder we kicked your ass in the Gulf…” Sawyer begins to say, until Sayid shoves the bamboo into Sawyer’s fingernails and he screams. I let out a cry in pain as well just hearing him.

“Sayid. Sayid!” Jack calls, and Sayid stops.

“No. Don't stop now. I think my sinuses are clearing?” Sawyer pants, egging him on.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jack asks Sawyer.

“Perhaps a more indirect method will loosen your tongue?” Sayid asks and I know what’s coming. I open my eyes and beg Sawyer with him to stop. Sawyer doesn’t say anything and I whimper.

Sayid shifts to get behind me and my tied hands. I struggle with my bonds and try to get my fingers away from Sayid's hands. I cry out when he grabs my wrists roughly and slides the bamboo into them. I scream high and clear as color burns in my vision at the pain. I try to jerk away, but Sayid just tightens his hold.

Okay, okay!” Sawyer calls and I feel Sayid retreat. I collapse into the tree and begin to sob.

“Where is it?” Sayid asks harshly.

“The only person I'll tell is her,” Sawyer replies.

“Amelia?” Jack asks but Sawyer shakes his head and realization washes over Jack, “Kate?”

“That's the deal,” Sawyer says finally. Jack and Sayid move away from the spot to go to get Kate. I turn as best I can to Sawyer.

“Why?!” I shout, trying to overcome my sobs. “Why did you let him do that to me James why why why!”

“Keep your voice down,” Sawyer growles through clenched teeth, “And I did it because I didn’t think Sayid would actually harm you. I was wrong.”

“Damn right you were wrong,” I choke out and lean my head against the trunk of the tree. Then Jack and Sayid return with Kate. Kate looks hard at Sawyer, but her expression softens when she sees me.

Kate shakes her head and turns back to Sawyer, “So I'm here. Where is it?”

“Happy to tell you, as soon as I get a kiss,” Sawyer replies cheekily. I knew it would come to this. He’s never going to kiss me.

“What? Are you serious?” Kate asks incredulously, not bothering to hide the tone.

“Baby, I am tied to a tree in a jungle of mystery. I just got tortured by a damn spinal surgeon and a gen-u-ine I-raqi,” Sawyer pauses and looks over to me, “Of course, I'm serious. You're just not seeing the big picture here, Freckles. You really going to let that girl suffocate because you can't bring yourself to give me one little kiss? Hell, it's only first base. Lucky for you I ain't greedy.”

“Okay,” Kate agrees.

“Okay,” Sawyer repeats. I close my eyes as Kate leans in and I know they kiss. I keep my mouth in a tight line to avoid from making any pathetic sounds.

“I don't have it,” Sawyer says, and then turns his head to me, “Blue eyes here probably knew that too.”

“What?” Kate blanches, looking between the both of us. I look away from her face feeling guilty. I tried to stop it.

“The medicine. I don't have it, never did,” Sawyer replies.

“The book -- they said you found it in their luggage.”

“The book washed up on shore, went in the drink with the rest of-“ Sawyer is cut off as Kate elbows him across the face. I make another sound of protest as she walks away toward Jack and Sayid.

I take my chance to slowly try and wiggle out of my bonds. I felt they tied it a little too loose, and I try to maneuver my fingers to get myself untied. I yank my hands away from the trunk and my wrists free themselves. I shake off the bonds and quickly scramble to my feet and make it to Sawyer.

“C’mon Sawyer let’s go-”

Suddenly Sayid is running towards us, and back to Sawyer. I turn my head as Sawyer is helping me loosen the bindings on his wrist. I intercept Sayid and try to fight him off away from Sawyer. Sayid makes a move to try to stab Sawyer in the arm. I intercept him once ahain, but at a cost. Sayid stabs me instead. I sob in pain and collapse into Sawyer’s lap. Sayid holds his arms out, like it was an accident. Jack rushes over to us as Sawyer tries to get me up. He supports me on his lap as Jack pulls the knife out, blood spurts out of my arm and I cry out again.

“You hit an artery,” Jack says and I wiggle around to, “Keep still damn it. Sayid, I need my stuff from the caves, my leather backpack. Go.”

Jack pinched my artery closed as best as he can as Sawyer’s hands steady themselves at my waist to keep me still. I drop my head back onto Sawyer’s shoulder and whimper quietly in pain.

“Can you make it stop?” Kate’s voice cuts through the panic that is filling up my head. Kate and Jack keep me still as Sawyer and help me switch places with him.

“Let go. I know you want to,” Sawyer taunts Jack and I try to give him a withering look.

“Shut up,” Jack says to Sawyer, “And stop moving”, he says to me.

“You've been waiting for this, haven't you? Now you get to be the hero again, because that's what you do -- fix everything up all nice,” Sawyer taunts again, and I really wish he’d shut up. This is my life on the line and not his, “Tell him to let go, Freckles. Blue eyes is just taking up the top spot as doctor anyways. Hey, Jack, there's something you should know -- if the tables were turned, and it wasn’t blue eyes, I'd watch you die.”

“Sawyer I really wish you’d shut up,” I say weakly, but everything looks blurry. The last thing I see is Sawyer’s concerned look before I pass out.

When I do finally wake up, Kate and Sawyer are there to see me. I scoot up a little more on Sawyer's makeshift seat-bed. Sawyer is the first to get up and come over, and Kate follows after him.

“You're lucky to be alive,” Kate says to me in amazement.

“Jack?” I ask.

“Went to the caves to check on Shannon,” She tells me and then turns on Sawyer. She holds up Sawyer's letter and he gives her a horrible look. Red hot guilt fills my stomach and throat, “I read it, and then again, because I've been trying to figure out why you beat up Boone instead of just telling him you didn't have his sister's medication. Why you pretended to have it anyway. The thing that I keep coming back around to is that you want to be hated. Then I looked at the envelope -- America's bicentennial, Knoxville, TN. You were just a kid, 8 maybe 9 years old.”

“Kate,” Sawyer says menacingly. Kate must’ve took it off me when they were taking me back to the beach. I look down at my wrapped arm and realize I’m only in my tank top.

“This letter wasn't written to you. You wrote this letter. Your name's not Sawyer, is it?” Kate asks and I try to sit up more. Shit shit shit shit shit shit.

“Kate wait-” I try to say, but Sawyer cuts me off.

“It was his name. He was a confidence man. Romanced my momma to get to the money, wiped them out clean, left a mess behind. So I wrote that letter. I wrote it knowing one day I'd find him. But that ain't the sad part,” Sawyer pauses and glances at me, “When I was 19, I needed 6 grand to pay these guys off I was in trouble with. So I found a pretty lady with a dumb husband who had some money. And I got them to give it to me. How's that for a tragedy? I became the man I was hunting. Became Sawyer. Don't you feel sorry for me,” Sawyer grabs the letter from her, “Get the hell out. Get out!”

Kate gets up and walk away without another glance at me. Sawyer watches her go with an awful expression on his face. I slowly lower myself onto the bed, now feeling light-headed from sitting up. I must’ve lost a lot of blood.

“Sawyer I didn’t know she would find it,” I say weakly, bracing myself for an explosion from Sawyer.

“Not your fault,” Sawyer replies simply, still looking away from me. I stare at him surprised.

“I took a knife for you,” I say and he finally turns around.

“What?”

“In the original series,” I explain, “You’re the one who gets stabbed. I don’t exist.”

“Lucky you,” He replies simply and settles back into the chair next to the bed. I turn on my back and stare up at the ceiling of the tent.

The sun begins to set and I look out across the beach to see Sayid and Kate talk. I remember that Sayid is leaving, and I smile a bit to myself. It’s odd how even though I changed things, everything seems to course correct. I watch as Sayid kisses Kate’s hand and then turns to walk away. I turn my head to Sawyer and see him hold a lighter up to his letter, but hesitate.

He turns his head and catches my eye, and I give him a reassuring smile. He nods back at me and turns away to look at the ocean. I smile to myself some more and begin to hum “I Shall Not Walk Alone” as I remember from the episode's end.

LOST

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Winter Solstice Gift for lanerose23

This is super self-indulgent but hopefully entertaining too. I’ve tried to not stray beyond the cultural lanes established in the drama, but if I’ve erred or overstepped, please let me know so I can be better. Also, I obsessively watched the show on, like, five different platforms with five different sets of subtitles, so this is sort of a medley of names/translations that seemed to flow best in this tale.

For @lanerose23 for the Wangxian Winter Solstice Gift Exchange. I tried to come through on bunnies, fluff, happy endings, and "safe, sane" sexy times! Happy holidays! <3

Read On AO3

*****

The Great Bird's Promise

Inside his shell, he heard the promise. The great bird said that she would deliver them to families who would love them.

Her wings spanned the width of the sky, beak as large as the sun, as she flew with a basket in her talons. Within the woven bamboo jostled the eggs of every living species on Earth—humans, still new and learning to walk upon the soil; fish and lizards and snakes and the old species who had made this world their own.

A heavy wind blew from a mountain that had not been so tall the day before, for they were growing, too. It shook the bird’s massive feathers, shuddering her expansive wings. She dodged the gust, greeted the new mountain, and didn’t notice when a single egg dropped from her basket.

This one lonely egg plummeted through empty sky and landed in the thatch of a pine tree. The branches reached out from the cliff, sparse and cascading. The egg trembled and began to hatch.

The creature inside, naked, blind, heart beating fast with what could be called excitement and what could be called fear, was called a rabbit.

The huge unblinking eyes of a snowy owl watched the eggshell fall away to expose the fragile form inside. The tiny hairless thing that was called rabbit did not, right now, look like one. He shivered in cold mountain breezes. “Will you love me?” the rabbit asked, for he had heard the great bird’s promise.

The snowy owl pondered this. “If you’re silent,” he answered, fluttering on his perch, “and always stand tall and elegant and do just as I do.”

He would, the rabbit vowed inside. He would forever and ever.

___________

The silences of Cloud Recesses were all wrong. Wuxian turned fitfully on the fine bed with its fine pillows and missed the sounds of Lotus Pier, the insects chirping and fishermen casting nets with soft splashes. Plus, he wasn’t tired. It was barely night and already everything had been shut up tight. He was tempted to break out, perhaps sneak to Nie Huaisang’s quarters and invite him into some mischief, but thoughts of Shijie’s disappointment kept him inside this time.

He wondered where Lan Zhan slept; he was probably already deep asleep in twenty layers and rigid from head to toe, pretty and perfect as an ice sculpture. He’d heard that Lan Zhan played guqin and he’d heard Lan Zhan was already one of the best. Wuxian wanted to hear him play and see what he could learn from the methods. Or maybe he just wanted to watch him play, elegant and handsome and stone-faced.

Wuxian turned onto his back with a groan. It was annoying that Lan Zhan was so attractive. It was annoying that Wuxian couldn’t stop thinking about him. Surely, Lan Zhan would be so boring to touch, he thought, surely it would be like kissing a dead fish, but he couldn’t really believe it because he’d seen Lan Zhan fight. He was fierce and intense and intelligent and appealing, so obnoxiously, effortlessly appealing. If they could have fooled around weeks ago like he’d wanted, Wuxian wouldn’t be in this situation. He grumbled and turned onto his stomach again.

“Wei Wuxian! Go to sleep,” Jiang Cheng growled from his bed. “I can’t sleep with you flopping around!”

Wuxian pouted at him in response, but he tried to lay still. He closed his eyes, settled his head on his pillow, and tried to sleep. He tried to not think of Lan Zhan.

Courtyards away and hours later, Wangji sat poised in meditation, incense a lazy curl of smoke around him. Today’s lectures would begin soon. Today, as every other day, Wangji vowed to be the example Uncle expected of him.

Back straight, hands atop his knees, he breathed evenly, a rhythm as familiar as Inquiry. He appeared as placid as a frozen lake in winter.

Inwardly, he thrashed. He tried to focus on the thrum of his golden core, but instead thought of a bright toothy smile and a laugh that echoed off the Cloud Recesses quiet walls. Wei Wuxian, who broke all wards. Wangji wanted to fight him. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to silence him. He wanted to hear his every thought. He wanted him to leave and never come back. He wanted him to stay and never go. He wanted to avoid him. He wanted to find him.

He wanted. He wanted. He wanted and he hated wanting. Wanting opened a cavern inside him that he couldn’t fill. Wanting stoked hungers he had no intention of feeding. He would extinguish them forever if he could. He wanted to look upon Wei Wuxian, his smiles, his talents, his body, his brilliance and rebellion, and feel nothing. Instead, the gaping wound of want split open inside him, spilling desire all through him, melting the ice of him. Filling him with want.

Outwardly, Wangji’s little finger tremored on his knee.

___________

The rabbit felt so proud when his fur grew in white and downy as owl feathers. With the owls, the rabbit stood as tall as he could and thought how striking they must look together, though he was still quite small.

But when the owls took to the air, he couldn’t follow. When they returned with beaks full of creatures that were no bigger than he, the rabbit felt queasy. The elegant snowy owl blinked knowing eyes at him and the rabbit understood.

He carefully descended the towering pine tree, the only home he’d known, and began searching for where he belonged.

Soon, the rabbit found a little gathering of field mice. Hope bloomed inside him. They were even smaller than he was! They couldn’t fly through the air and wouldn’t return with beaks full of meat.

“Will you love me?” he asked, gazing into tiny black eyes. The mouse’s nose twitched a little like his, whiskers bouncing as she looked him over.

“If you stay small,” the field mouse answered, “and you never scare us and you never, ever get angry.”

The rabbit eagerly nodded. He never felt anger and he was so little, with no wings or beak, so how could he ever be scary?

___________

Wuxian felt pride and embarrassment in equal measure as he led Lan Zhan around the settlement built by Wen hands and the wards forged with his blood. He’d seen the difficult scrabble of pulling together even these comforts, to make gardens of graveyards and homes among bones. But with Lan Zhan, Hanguang-Jun, beside him so bright and so beautiful, it was impossible not to see it through new eyes. How gray and horrible all this must seem to one raised in the glorious Cloud Recesses. How repulsed Lan Zhan must feel, he thought.

Wangji was not repulsed, but his heart ached, for this did not seem a way for anyone to live. Yet the grayness of the landscape did not scare him like the grayness of Wei Ying’s skin.

“Let’s go,” Wei Ying said, voice on the wind. “I’ll walk you down the mountain.”

They moved side by side back toward the crumbling entry enforced by fearsome power. The infrequent bump of their shoulders reminded Wuxian of happier days spent pretending they were like Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen, bound only by their shared ideals. He wondered, though, if they shared ideals anymore. No regrets, they’d pledged; to live with a clear conscience. Wuxian had no regrets, not really, and he felt cursed by that. He was rigidly ruled by his own unflinching moral compass. He longed sometimes to be someone who could turn away. Life would be simpler, he was sure, if he could only close his eyes and fall into the shared delusion of clear lines, protect our own and only our own, and the black/white thinking of others. Instead, he felt trapped awake, eyes open, poisoned by the horrors hidden within those comforting platitudes. He felt terribly, achingly alone.

“Is there anyone who can give me a bright future path that is easy to go on?” Wei Ying asked and Wangji had no answer. He didn’t understand why Wei Ying had abandoned the sword, but he could recognize now that the power granted him by this disturbing path was immense, more immense than even a prodigious swordsman like Wei Ying could accomplish with Suibian. And immense power was needed to protect the Wen against the clans.

“Let yourself judge what is right and what is wrong, let others decide to praise or to blame, let gains and losses remain uncommented on,” Wei Ying said sadly, certainly. “I know what I should be doing. I also believe I can control it.”

Behind his eyes Wangji felt the press of tears. He wanted to weep in a way he’d not done since he was a child and had never done with any witness but his brother. That radiant, infuriating boy who had lodged himself in Wangji’s heart was bleeding himself dry for others and Wangji could do nothing but admire him for it. It felt thick in his throat, like any word out of his mouth might come carried on a sob.

“Brother, Brother.” A weight, now familiar, crashed against his legs. “Brother, are you not going to stay and eat with us today?”

Wangji looked down at A-Yuan’s bright eyes and soft cheeks. How could he argue with anything Wei Ying did to protect this boy? How could any action to that end be wrong? The questions burnt and knifed inside him against 3,000 rules he knew like his heartbeat. Three thousand rules that conflicted with one another and yet screamed that he should not be here and he should not care for Wei Ying.

Wei Ying lifted the boy into his arms, making Lan Zhan’s excuses for him. “A-Yuan, this brother here already has food waiting for him at home. He won’t be staying.”

“But I heard a secret earlier,” A-Yuan said. “They said that there was lots of good food today.”

“A-Yuan,” Wuxian scolded, but then fell silent. He had never given much thought to being a parent, but the weight of a child in his arms resonated with something primal inside him. It made him feel gentle and fierce. And to see A-Yuan take to Lan Zhan stirred something else inside him, something he was scared to name because he could never deserve it.

Wei Ying turned to him. Wangji expected him to repeat his explanations, give his silence words as he so often did, but instead, Wei Ying looked at him with an expression he’d never seen before. He wasn’t joking, flirting, arguing, or cajoling. He was just...open, holding a child and looking at him, hopeful.

“I’m leaving,” Wangji said and pulled himself away from that look on Wei Ying’s face. He would wonder until the end of his days what might have been different if he’d stayed.

___________

The field mice adored him, for a time. That he was small made them feel safe. That he ate only green things gave them comfort. But not always, and not enough. They were afraid because he was still bigger, mistrustful because he’d lived among owls, and it wore on the rabbit. He tried to never be angry, even when their suspicious looks made him feel that way.

“You have to leave,” the little mouse told him one day, the same one who’d once allowed him to stay. “Your jumping is too scary and we told you not to be scary.”

He only jumped like that when he was happy, but the rabbit didn’t try to explain; he just left.

After days alone, the rabbit awoke to a vibration, like the world might split open beneath him. It came in slow, steady beats—thump...thump...thump. He hopped to investigate and saw enormous grey-bellied elephants with long trunks and huge flapping ears that swatted the flies away.

They’re so big, the rabbit thought with joy. They’d never be frightened of me.

The elephants settled around a watering hole to drink their fill. Some lounged in the water, washing away the dust coating their thick hides, and the littles ones who were still so much larger than the rabbit played silly games that made him smile.

He politely ventured close to an old matriarch with wise eyes. “Will you love me?” he asked.

She turned in his direction, searching the empty air until she found the tiny origin of the tiny voice. She took in his twitching ears and quivering whiskers. “If you don’t get scared,” she said, “and you help us to lift big trees, find tall grasses, and always stay loyal.”

The rabbit nodded because he wanted to be and do all those things.

___________

Uncle saved his life with his punishment.

He was meant to suffer and reflect on his wrongdoings. And Wangji did suffer. He did reflect. But the flayed flesh on his back was nothing compared to the flaying in his heart. In fact, it was comforting, somehow, to hurt as much on the outside as he did inside. It put Wangji’s pain somewhere it could bleed.

The Yiling Laozu fell with only one hand reaching out to him, and that hand reached out too late. Too late. Too late to change anything.

He cared for A-Yuan, but selfishly the boy wasn’t enough. Wen Yuan had a clan now, he would be safe and fed without Wangji around. Wangji didn’t want to be around. He wanted to be free of this hurt, of this loss, of existing in a world without Wei Ying, surrounded only by those who had betrayed him. Including himself, including the beating heart in his chest.

The pain gave him focus. He read the rules and found those he’d violated. He found those he wished he had. He reflected. He reflected. He reflected and accepted that he was in love with Wei Ying, he always would be, and he should have been by his side. The recognition came in a wave, followed by a soul-deep exhale, like the release during meditation or a gasp after almost drowning.

The Cold Pond Cave cooled the fires of him, but not the way Uncle intended. Wangji didn’t regret his misbehavior, only his inaction. He didn’t regret his words, only his silences. And when he accepted these truths, the turbulence in his mind froze clear and solid. He’d loved Wei Ying. He’d failed Wei Ying. He’d wanted to protect Wei Ying. He could protect A-Yuan. He could love A-Yuan.

As the truths solidified in his heart, power thrummed in his core like a yoke had been thrown off. Energy filled him from toes to fingertips to the ends of his hair. The world perceived his affection for Wei Wuxian as his only weakness. Wangji learned in that moment that his love, immortal and infinite, was his strength.

___________

The rabbit had promised to not be scared, but he felt so afraid dodging heavy elephant feet that could crush him. When he rode on their backs, he felt scared to be so high for he remembered the flying things that ate little things like him. He couldn’t help lift big trees, or even the small ones, and they lost him when they strode in tall grasses. The matriarch scooped him up in a mouthful and nearly ate him, even though elephants don’t eat rabbits.

He didn’t stay long with them, though he loved the silly games of the babies and the huge flapping ears of the elders.

He wandered and soon met a tortoise, its thick skin familiar from the elephants, its size just right—not so big as the elephants, not so small as the field mice. “Will you love me?” he asked the tortoise with his hulking shell and narrow eyes.

The tortoise sniffed at him. “If you can keep up,” he said, and continued on his path.

The rabbit happily hopped beside him, only to discover he’d left the tortoise far behind. Oh, dear no, thought the rabbit, this won’t work at all. He thanked the tortoise for his kindness and continued on alone.

___________

When he left the cave, having lost three years with A-Yuan, he let the regret scatter like leaves in the certainty brought by this new, engulfing spiritual power. Three years earlier, he would have met the boy full of ferocity and self-destruction. That was no way to love a child.

Wangji had been raised beside someone’s anger; he would not wish that for A-Yuan, his Sizhui, who looked plump-cheeked and happy in his pale Lan robes. In the mornings, Wangji combed his hair and helped him fasten his ribbon across his smooth forehead. Sometimes, tongue poking out in concentration, Sizhui helped Wangji with his in turn.

Wangji couldn’t decide if it was blessing or curse that Sizhui, Xian-gege’s A-Yuan, had no memories of him. It left Wangji alone to grieve the dreaded, well-dead Yiling Laozu, Wei Wuxian. But left him alone to bear that bittersweet pain, too. To wish memory on a boy who’d already suffered felt selfish. Better that Sizhui start here in the embrace of GusuLan, in Wangji’s embrace.

Sizhui sat on his lap, even when he was too old and too tall for it. Wangji allowed it. The boy tugged on the strings of his guqin and giggled at the trembling twang. It seemed they both needed this, an extended autumn of youth after a parched summer; forging��or perhaps re-forging—a bond made one magical afternoon that only one of them remembered.

At 12, Sizhui was proper, good looking, and hard working. His aptitude with the guqin gave Wangji stirrings of fate—would this talent have been discovered in a Wen? he wondered. Wangji traveled often, on quests he could barely admit to himself, and when he returned, his first visit was always from Sizhui, even before his brother or his uncle. The boy would seek him out, no matter the hour he returned. It was an indulgence Wangji couldn’t deny either of them.

The sun had just crested the horizon, spilling into the rebuilt shadows of Cloud Recesses.

“I don’t know how we’re meant to obey all of them all the time,” Sizhui admitted softly. The steam from the teapot caught the sunlight like smoke around his young face, carefully schooled to hide his agitation. Wangji knew Sizhui’s face better than his own.

He thought of the platitudes he was told when he’d made the same observation as a child. That the conflict was in him, in the human heart; the rules were to tame the conflict. That cultivation means control and great spiritual strength can only be achieved through harnessing one’s nature.

That is not what he told Sizhui. “They conflict with one another because they are not of equal value at all times,” he said, pleased by Sizhui’s steady hands as he prepared their tea. “Like strings on the guqin, from thick to thin, they can be played separately or together, depending on the melody of a moment.”

“So...we learn the rules so that we may know all the principles that should guide our actions.” Sizhui carefully extended his teacup toward him and Wangji felt a rush of affection for his perceptive, soulful boy. “Just as we learn all the notes we can play, even though not every song requires them?”

“Mn.” Wangji gave a slight nod and lifted his tea, breathing in the floral scent. “And indeed, not only do some songs not require them, but the wrong note—even when beautiful in another melody—would ruin the one before you, and to play every note at once would only create discord.” Wangji knew that discord well. He’d grown up in it.

Sizhui let out a relieved sigh that gave Wangji a tremulous feeling of success, like he’d done a bit of good parenting, even when he barely understood what that was. “That makes sense,” his lovely boy said. “Thank you, Hanguang-Jun.”

Wangji didn’t respond. He simply drank the tea prepared by his son, his Lan Sizhui, Wei Ying’s A-Yuan, and let himself feel a rare moment of peace in the sunrise.

Years later, in Yi City, Wangji would see himself in Xiao Xingchen, who died rather than continue in a world where he’d hurt his beloved—and also in Song Lan, who soldiered on, a ghost carrying memories of dead love close to his heart.

___________

In his travels, the rabbit soon came to wide water, so expansive he could not see its end. It rose and fell like great moving mountains. On the gray-sand shore were seals with big limpid eyes and sweet round bellies. “Will you love me?” he asked one, feeling so scared and so hopeful.

“If you stay close and always share your food,” the seal answered.

___________

Wuxian felt the pleading weight of Zewu-Jun’s words.

He walked in to see Lan Zhan with his hair down, sleeves held back gently as he prepared tea and poured wine, and he understood why Zewu-Jun told him more than he’d asked. Lan Zhan was a warrior, Hanguang-Jun, Lan Wangji, a jade of Gusu, and one of the most powerful cultivators of any generation. He was also a man in love. A man so deeply in love it had burned—burned him—for almost two decades.

Wuxian trembled beneath that weight.

“I don’t need anyone to save me,” he’d said years ago in the Burial Mounds. It took dying and coming back to understand that what he’d meant was I’m not worth saving. Lan Zhan had never agreed, no matter how Wuxian tried to convince him.

The plink and shiver of the guqin brought the tingle in his limbs to his awareness, like the growl in his empty stomach breaking through the excitement of an invention. That physical attraction he’d had to Lan Zhan in their youth had never gone away. It had just been papered over by battles, separation and second lifetimes, unworthiness and the paradoxical belief that he could not love someone so profoundly and also desire him. His eyes trailed over Lan Zhan’s long fingers on the strings, his soft mouth; his eyes, those remarkable, unforgettable eyes, and—

“I want to kiss you,” he blurted out.

Lan Zhan’s playing stilled and he looked up. They stared at each other in silence. Lan Zhan’s expression was gentle, accepting, and silent. Wuxian laughed—the silence should be no surprise; this was Lan Zhan, after all, who would answer direct questions with silence, who would offer no information, even when it was demanded. Wuxian had no intention of demanding. “Oh, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he said, entering the room. “I want to kiss you, but do you want to be kissed?”

Lan Zhan simply nodded, as if Wuxian had asked about getting dinner. But the rosy tips of his ears gave him away. “Only by you,” he added. And oh, Lan Zhan’s other great skill: to say so little and still say more than Wuxian knew how to believe.

Wei Ying lowered himself to the floor, sitting cross-legged to Wangji’s left where he still sat rigid, back straight, hands flat to still the long-gone vibration of his guqin. He’d imagined kissing Wei Ying—and more, so much more—for so long. The passion inside him felt always dammed behind an insufficient barrier. So, to release it...he imagined embracing Wei Ying like a tidal wave, overwhelming, undeniable, claiming him with lips, tongue and teeth, smashing their bodies together with the force of his want.

The reality was somewhat different. Wangji’s passion was no less extraordinary, but the dam restraining it now was love, not self-domination. What did Wei Ying want? How much did Wei Ying want? His passion could be like a wave gently lapping shore, if that’s what Wei Ying needed.

Slowly, Lan Zhan turned to face him, fingers moving to rest in his lap. Their knees touched as Wuxian scooted just that small bit closer, movements young and eager. Lan Zhan looked up to meet his eyes and once he’d done that, Wuxian could almost never look away. He reached out to close a hand over Lan Zhan’s, heart thumping and feeling 16 years old with his mind full to brimming with the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen.

For once, he did look away from Lan Zhan’s eyes. Away from his eyes to his mouth, lips plump-pink and tempting. As soon as he looked, he touched, before the courage left him. The tension melted from Wuxian’s shoulders at a kiss returned.

Their hands bumped when they both reached for each other at the same time. Wuxian laughingly yielded, letting Lan Zhan cup his jaw and direct the kiss. It was honey on his tongue, a mouth moving against his, a pleasant buzz through his body. He let his own hand drop to Lan Zhan’s knee, the curve firm and intimate through layers of linens.

Hai hour settled heavily on Wangji’s shoulders. Childhood routine made his mind shift into a quieter state, lending a dreamy mist to the minutes spent blissfully kissing as the snow blanketed the world outside. “It’s time to sleep,” he said. He didn’t much care for himself, but Wei Ying was wounded, and battles loomed still to be fought. Wei Ying needed his rest.

Wuxian wanted to tease Lan Zhan like he used to, mock those rigid GusuLan traditions—if they weren’t going to defy them for this, then for what!? But Lan Zhan, his Lan Zhan; he’d spent so much time worrying and caring for him, he had to be exhausted. “Okay,” he relented.

But neither of them moved to stand or stop. They just kept trading kisses.

Wuxian laughed against Lan Zhan’s mouth and felt an answering smile that made his heart throb. He decided a few moments more couldn’t hurt. For a few moments more, they could be the lusty, carefree boys they could have been 20 years ago, if war had not arrived so early and maturity so late.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whispered against his lips after several molten minutes more. He felt hot all over, from his knees tight against Lan Zhan’s to his throat where guqin-skilled hands stroked his skin and caressed his jaw. “We should sleep.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan agreed, but only kissed him again.

Wei Ying laughed and Wangji loved the sound. Loved the sound of him, loved the feel of him, loved the life in him. Wanted him endlessly.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying pouted sweetly, “who’s been taking care of me, hm? Who will take care of me if Hanguang-Jun is asleep on his feet?”

When Wangji opened them, his eyes were unfocused. He felt drunk, though he’d had no wine but what he could taste on Wei Ying’s lips and tongue. “Sleep with me,” he said.

Blushed cheeks and well-used lips complemented Wei Ying’s features well. He looked young and healthy. “Yes,” he answered, adding sternly, “but we have to sleep.”

Wangji nodded his agreement, amused to have Wei Ying making rules now.

They stripped to their underrobes and climbed into the bed, each fully intending to sleep as agreed, but the room had grown cold with the frost outside and there was so much warm skin, so many hot kisses still to give, so much uncharted territory on this path they’d just begun to walk together and now single layers that could be opened to allow palms to feel the firm planes of stomach and the exquisitely narrow rise of hip.

But they each had secrets, too: a boy asleep not far from where they lay and a golden core warming someone else in Yunmeng.

Lan Zhan felt so good and Wuxian didn’t want to stop even as his heart thumped for the wrong reasons when Lan Zhan’s fingers grazed his wrists. If they were to do the things he’d seen in Nie-xiong’s books, then surely Lan Zhan, the great Hanguang-Jun, would sense what he was missing. He wanted it as much as he feared it.

“Lan Zhan, is it okay – if we – if we don’t go any further – tonight – just not tonight,” Wuxian gasped, each phrase punctuated with more kissing, his hand tangling in Lan Zhan’s hair, his knee sliding over Lan Zhan’s hip.

Wangji gripped the knee curving around him to bring their bodies closer. He wanted to pull it firm against him and take this pleasure he’d been dreaming of for decades. But Wei Ying’s words. He was forever reckless with himself and he would keep going if Wangji pushed it because they wanted each other. Even that thought was a thrill. Wei Ying wanted him, and Wangji wanted to tell him.

But if Wei Ying approached Sizhui with the familiarity and fondness he almost certainly would if he knew, what terrible memories might that disinter? For as much love as had surrounded little Wen Yuan, he’d been living on a mountain of the dead and all his family had been slaughtered. Would returning those memories to his sensitive, happy boy be a kindness or a cruelty?

Wangji still wanted. He wanted to tell Wei Ying the one good thing he’d done, kiss him, hold him, cry with him, make love in a happy haze as though all the painful years had never happened, but no. No, the note he must play strongest now was for Sizhui, and he did not want his first joining with Wei Ying to be shrouded in secrets.

He called upon his Lan reserve to drag himself away from the delicious warmth of Wei Ying’s mouth. “We can stop,” he said, startled by the lust-roughness of his voice.

Wei Ying’s eyes drifted away from his lips. Wangji felt his steadying exhale against his skin. “You’re right, Lan Zhan, you’re right,” he said. “We should stop.”

“You said it first.”

Wei Ying let out a loud laugh, rolling away to throw his head back. Wangji wanted to cover that smooth neck with bites and kisses. When Wei Ying curled toward him again, his eyes shown with fondness and he reached between them to link their hands together, bodies at a safer, less enticing distance.

They talked, then, how they did any other night they’d shared a room in their travels. They compared thoughts about what they had discovered, expectations for what lay ahead, but it felt so new, whispering face to face, lips kiss-tender, voices crossing not an empty room but only the small expanse of the bed.

Wuxian wasn’t sure when they finally fell asleep. He remembered dawn peeking through the screens at the window and it seemed only seconds later that they had to wake and get dressed. He wanted to curl up and sleep for a day, but a wicked, immovable deadline hung over them for soon a murderer would come to Cloud Recesses.

___________

The rabbit had a delightful afternoon in the seals’ company. Their bodies bounced like his and they had whiskers like him and they bounce-bounce-bounced together, but then all the seals bounce-bounce-bounced into the waves where the rabbit couldn’t follow because he didn’t have flippers and his feet were not shaped like a paddles for pushing through water.

He stood alone on the beach for a long, stunned moment, then he turned and began searching again.

In the silent grasses, the rabbit came upon a leopard, its sleek, spotted body low to the ground, eyes peering straight ahead. Its backside wiggled the way the rabbit’s did sometimes. “Will you love me?” the rabbit asked.

“If you can keep up!” the leopard replied, bounding off on strong back legs after a sprinting deer.

The rabbit tried to keep up, but he lost her before the leopard’s voice had even faded from his ears. He continued on alone.

___________

The moment he saw that broken look on his brother’s face at the Guanyin Temple, Wangji knew his daydream of traveling by Wei Ying’s side had died.

To live with a clear conscience, without regret. An easy phrase that provided no guidance in how to weigh regrets against one another. He would regret watching Wei Ying walk away again. He would regret leaving GusuLan with one leader heartbroken and another too unyielding for the complex days ahead. He would regret forsaking a generation of Lan juniors to that unsteady guidance. He would regret abandoning the cultivation world to a power vacuum where evil and self-interest could so easily gain dominance. He wanted to be Lan Zhan. He wanted to be Wei Ying’s. But the world, for now, needed Hanguang-Jun.

But like so many deaths around the Yiling Laozu, Wei Wuxian, this death was not forever. One day, Wangji sat reading in the jingshi when a flute’s notes drifted in with the breeze. He heard a song he knew well and knew Wei Ying had come home.

It was strange to walk the paths of Cloud Recesses and realize it had started to feel like home. Wuxian found comfort in the routine, and could maybe—maybe—understand the appeal of a clearly defined schedule, up to a point. His 16-year-old self would never have believed it, but his 16-year-old self hadn’t yet had to survive in the Burial Mounds. His 16-year-old self hadn’t yet died for his convictions and mistakes.

Wuxian let out a breath as the sorrow passed through him, a familiar companion after all these years. Even that felt at home in Cloud Recesses with its stillness and meditative spaces. Here, Wuxian could grieve and find solace. He’d found love here. He’d found purpose and family. Even Lan Qiren surrendered some of his vitriol when he’d realized that Wuxian would not steal Lan Zhan away. At last, the old man recognized that Lan Zhan was the wise and filial leader he’d been trying to raise all along, even if they disagreed on the details.

Lan Zhan looked as beautiful as an art print among the rabbits in the back hills. The pure white fur and Lan Zhan’s robes, the earthy brown and green—it made Wuxian’s fingers itch for brush and parchment. Perhaps he’d do that tonight...or maybe tomorrow because he’d learned the expressions on the face so many others thought immobile. All morning, Lan Zhan’s eyes had been lingering on Wuxian’s throat, his lips. Their few touches outside the jingshi had been lingering.

The first night Wuxian returned to Cloud Recesses they’d had no early appointments and no deliberate secrets between them, only stories not yet told and endless days to tell them. That night, they discovered new things they could do together that were even more satisfying than fighting side by side.

“Lan Zhan,” he said casually, scratching a rabbit between its velvet-soft ears. “What do you want to do tonight?”

The rabbits on Lan Zhan’s lap were calmer, almost sedated by his familiar and predictable stillness. But then, rabbits couldn’t really read the way his eyelashes slowly lifted over a heated gaze.

Wuxian grinned as a lovely anticipation started to pool in his limbs. He’d always been attractive, but it wasn’t until all this started with Lan Zhan that he’d felt desired, even seduced. “Ah,” he said, and stretched out on his back, hands folded beneath his head. Leaves and sticks crunched beneath him and a few rabbits darted away, but Lan Zhan’s eyes traveled the length of him, just as he’d wanted. One day, perhaps, Wuxian would try to tempt Lan Zhan into kissing him here the way he did in the jingshi, all devouring and unrestrained.

“I want—” Wangji began, then silenced abruptly. He found himself disinclined to speak most of the time, but rarely did he want to express himself more than in these moments with Wei Ying, these rare moments when the intimacy of their relationship was in the fore and not buried beneath life-or-death politics and layers of the mundane. Wei Ying had gotten so good at reading him, but sometimes Wangji wished he didn’t have to.

“Yes?” Wei Ying curved toward him, head propped up on his bent arm. “What do you want, Lan Zhan?

In that eagerness, Wangji saw that sometimes Wei Ying didn’t want to have to read him either. He swallowed and tried. “The book you had.”

“Which book?”

“During the lectures. In the library.”

Confusion clouded Wei Ying’s handsome face and Wangji worried this would fall prey to his poor memory, but after a few seconds, clarity spread like a sunrise. “In the library. When I was having to copy all those rules and you were being so mean and ignoring me.”

“Mn.”

Wuxian smiled brightly. Funny how those days had a rosy shine to them now. Lan Zhan, his beloved Lan Zhan, his sweet stick in the mud who defied nearly every one of those rules for him. He’d been unimaginably attractive in that library, so cold and untouchable. How badly he’d wanted to touch. “What about it?”

Wangji swallowed. He turned his attention to the rabbits in his lap. They dozed, their red eyes closed into gentle lines on their white faces, noses twitching with dreams. They clearly didn’t sense the rapid heartbeat in the body beneath them. “The picture. I would do that with you.”

Wuxian’s mouth twisted. “Which picture?”

Lan Zhan looked up at him, exasperated.

“Ah-ah, Lan Zhan,” he sighed, one hand lifted in defense. “That book was full of pictures. I don’t know which one you saw. I gave it to you to tease you and you ripped it apart so quickly.”

Wangji looked back to his rabbits. One blinked awake and he slid a finger along its forehead as it yawned, cute big teeth on display. He let the subject drop. He would not be able to find the words.

But Wei Ying sat up, excitedly crossing his legs beneath him. “Could you describe it to me?” he asked.

Wangji didn’t reply, neither by words nor a shake of his head. The tightness in his throat frustrated him. The sentence wouldn’t form in his mind, his tongue wouldn’t lift in his mouth, his lips wouldn’t part. That he had these desires, he had accepted. That they were not shameful, he had learned. But to speak them was still beyond his strength.

Wuxian scooted closer until his knees touched Lan Zhan’s. He loved the warm-pink of his ears, but not the storm clouding the features beneath his pale blue ribbon. He reached forward to join Lan Zhan’s hands in petting the rabbits in his lap. “Maybe you could show me,” he said, letting his fingers glide over Lan Zhan’s in a way he was certain could be called shameless. “Tonight, Lan Zhan. You could show me what they did in the picture. You know how smart I am; I’ll figure it out.” Lan Zhan didn’t answer, but the pink of his ears deepened to red, the storm cleared in his expression, and Wuxian grinned. His clever mind liked a mystery and the rest of him liked touching Lan Zhan, so these evening plans were very welcome indeed.

But being Wei Wuxian they also slipped his mind. That Cloud Recesses felt like an embrace would have shocked his 16-year-old self. That he’d become a teacher would not have. Oh, he dreamed of being a rogue cultivator, and that lifestyle suited him quite well on his not infrequent night hunts, but Wuxian had always been someone who loved being surrounded by youth and happiness, laughter on lotus lakes and meals made by someone who adored him.

Those days couldn’t be recreated, not after so much damage, but with the Lan juniors, with Lan Zhan, and A-Yuan, visits with Wen Ning and even slowly, slowly something better with Jin Ling and Jiang Cheng... It suited Wuxian quite well to be Wei-laoshi. He liked guiding disciples in archery and sword forms. He liked the spark of delight in their eyes when they first mastered a talisman.

Wangji liked that others saw His Excellency in the company of the Yiling Laozu. It killed off the rumors explaining Wei Ying’s absence and their hopes that Wangji had “come to his senses.” He preferred when they could tell by sight that the cultivation world was now guided by a mind that had not been tamed. If they felt fear, Wangji assumed they were right to do so. Those who gave him small, secret smiles—they were right, too.

That evening, Wuxian sat on the edge of their bed and barely seconds later found himself with a lapful of Lan Zhan. He instinctively gripped him and blinked, confused, at the broad expanse of a silk-covered back before his eyes.

“It was like this,” Lan Zhan said, a low whisper.

Wuxian blinked once, and then once more. “Ohhh,” he breathed, as every piece of their earlier conversation came back in a rush. “Oh. Yes, Lan Zhan, we can do that.” And really, they’d already started. Lan Zhan’s hips circled in a way that made Wuxian shiver and forget everything else. He swept Lan Zhan’s hair over his shoulder to bare his neck to his kisses and reached around to start pulling the robes from Lan Zhan’s body, sliding his hands up the strong thighs parted atop his. “Did you want to do this that day in the library?” he asked.

“No... and yes.”

“Yeah,” Wuxian agreed. He remembered the messy jumble of yearnings back then. If they’d kissed as boys, Wuxian was sure he would have ruined it, laughing, callous and too scared to wade into the depths of his feelings for the boy who was everything he was not.

They kept small pot of gel by the bed next to a stack of bathing linens. Wangji still felt a bit embarrassed by the obviousness of these supplies, but it was worth it when he didn’t have to leave Wei Ying’s arms when the mood struck them.

When he was young and his body was rocked by desires he didn’t understand, he’d done what he always did: he studied, like curse victim seeking the counter-curse. And indeed, he’d felt cursed, the way his mind refused to stay on any topic but Wei Ying and his antics. He discreetly researched how men fit together, how they touched and satisfied each other. He believed knowledge would bring the counter-curse for surely he would see these acts were foul and undesirable. Instead, he learned, in detail, all the ways he could give pleasure to the vexing boy who had disrupted the peace of him.

The worst times were the fits of grief that took hold during those long years existing in a world without him. Even gone, his thoughts still turned to him. Even gone, he still wanted to touch him. In those dark hours, with smooth gel on his fingers, he’d give his body what it needed. He pictured the beaming smile that died long before the man, those clever eyes and slender hands full of power and strength. After the crest of climax, the tears would swallow him. He would cry into bed linens that would never carry Wei Ying’s scent, and search for the reasons to go on when all he wanted was to fall into darkness with him.

But his linens did smell of Wei Ying now, of his hair oils and the natural tang of him. His linens were their linens because his bed was not his alone anymore, would never be again, and that beautiful boy who had once vexed him let out a tense, blissful sigh when their bodies joined at last.

Wuxian touched his forehead to Lan Zhan’s warm back and tried not to move, though the pleasure made him want to. He kissed the juncture of neck and shoulder blade, gave a light scrape of teeth. “Is it good, Lan Zhan?” he asked. His voice and his legs trembled.

He didn’t immediately receive a response, not a verbal one anyway, but Lan Zhan shifted, adjusting angle and depth and clinging to Wuxian’s hands on his hips.

Soon enough Wuxian didn’t need his words. Soft sounds rumbled in Lan Zhan’s throat, small gasps of satisfaction that would, in anyone else, be loud wanton moans. Like the sort Wuxian muffled against Lan Zhan’s scarred skin, pressing hot, open-mouth kisses as they found their rhythm with one another. It felt so good, always felt so good to touch Lan Zhan, to have this closeness, this way to show with bodies the intensity of his feelings inside. Sometimes he felt obsessed; he wanted to breathe in Lan Zhan, drink him in, become one person and be done with this false separation, this ridiculous idea that there was a Wei Ying and there was a Lan Zhan when they were so clearly one soul, one heart, one person. Maybe if they had a hundred lifetimes together, they could cultivate a way to join their spirits and become one. But—gasping deep and human against sweat-damp shoulder blades as Lan Zhan rode him—Wuxian couldn’t complain about this method for now.

Finished, they collapsed to their sides on the bed, letting bodies cool and heart rates settle. Wuxian dropped kisses on Lan Zhan’s naked shoulders because the affection still bubbling from his climax needed somewhere to go.

After a few moments’ rest, Lan Zhan turned to him. Those who thought him beautiful had no idea, Wuxian thought. They’d never seen him flushed with color, limb-loose and sated, eyes cloudy with peaked pleasure.

Their couplings usually ended with whispered conversations and Wei Ying’s happy laughter, so Wangji didn’t expect the emotion clogging his throat. He didn’t realize tears had followed until Wei Ying’s thumb slid beneath his eyes wipe them away.

“Lan Zhan?” he asked, concerned. “Why are you crying?”

The cavern of want that once terrified him had expanded and burst, filled now with a shameful fantasy made joyful flesh; filled to brimming with a partner, a son, a healthy clan, a life he felt so grateful to be living.

“Thank you,” was all Wangji managed to say.

Wei Ying smiled, that achingly gorgeous smile that Wangji wanted forever. “For what?”

For killing my shame, he thought. For making Cloud Recesses feel like home again. For embracing my silences. For coming back. For staying. For—

“I love you,” Wei Ying said, when he didn’t get an answer, at least not one Wangji had consciously given.

For that, Wangji thought and welcomed his kiss.

___________

The rabbit traveled on, alone and desperately lonely, until he came upon a stranger munching green, green leaves. Hunger twisted in his tiny rabbit belly, but the ache in his heart was more.

“Will you love me?” The rabbit asked, but before the stranger could answer, he went on, “I may be too scary or too big or too small. I may not be elegant and I can’t help lift big trees, or even little ones. I may go too fast or I may go too slow, and I cannot bounce-bounce-bounce into the water. I jump when I’m excited, I sometimes get scared, and I may not be perfect at giving love back,” the rabbit said in a rush. “But will you love me?”

The stranger blinked with red eyes just like the rabbit’s after listening with long ears just like the rabbit’s. A whiskered nose twitched.

“I do,” said the stranger, for he’d been searching a long time, too.

___________

They stood together, watching the swirl of pale fabric as two juniors sparred. Blades glinted as they caught the afternoon sun. Wuxian couldn’t help smiling, feeling like a grandpa remembering his good old days. “Ah, Lan Zhan,” he said wistfully. “Do you think we’d still be equals if I had my core?” It wasn’t as hard to talk about now, between the two of them. It was a fact of Wuxian’s new body and his health; they had to talk about it to navigate a life lived together.

“We are equals.”

“Tsk. I mean with swords.”

“Still equals.”

“Ah, Lan Zhan, you know what I mean.”

Wangji did and he didn’t. “Wei Ying survived the Burial Mounds.”

Wuxian shrugged, feeling that ancient shadow whisper in his heart. “That’s just survival. If you’d been thrown there, Hanguang-Jun would have survived too.”

Wangji didn’t reply, but he also didn’t agree. He suspected that his unwillingness to use resentful energy—his fear of the discord already living inside him—would have meant his death. His spiritual power would simply have bled into the earth, more foul power leeching into the dirt. No, he was certain that none but Wei Ying would have emerged at all, let alone emerged more powerful than when he fell. “Wei Ying is gifted,” he said finally.

Wei Ying spun Chenqing in his hand. These days, it played music more than puppets. “Gifted in something evil.”

“That he uses for good.”

Wuxian snorted. “You have an answer for all of it, don’t you, Lan Zhan? You can’t clean me of all my mistakes.”

“I’m not trying to.” Lan Zhan turned to meet his eyes, countenance both stern and sweet in that way of his. “A golden core can be used for evil deeds,” he said. “You’ve demonstrated that resentful energy can be used for good ones. That is innovation. You saw what others could not. That is a gift. Core or no, you have always been my equal.”

“Lan Zhan.” Wuxian pouted. He’d wanted to flirt and reminisce about the days when an incredibly pretty fuddy-duddy had broken his bottle of Emperor’s Smile. Instead, Lan Zhan had cut at something naked and fragile inside him.

His eyes drifted from Lan Zhan’s, but he bumped their shoulders together to tell him that he wasn’t upset, not really. “Maybe,” he said. “But I want to know if I could’ve ever bested you and Bichen.”

Lan Zhan’s lips lifted in a sad, tiny smile. “Me too,” he agreed softly.

Wuxian wanted to kiss him. Instead—for the sake of the juniors—he just pushed their shoulders together more firmly, removing any lingering space between them. That sorrow could visit them, he decided, the sorrow of what could-have-been. It could visit, but not stay.

Wangji had more he wanted to say. Wei Ying was brilliant. The sort of brilliant that, at most, emerged once in a generation and sometimes not at all. Wangji felt gratitude to have met him, to have gotten him back after everything. But he could sense when Wei Ying wasn’t ready to hear such words. He would let his praise and admiration out in bits and pieces for the rest of their lives. He was okay with that, he decided, and let his weight lean just as firmly against Wei Ying’s as they watched the next generation fly.

[peachnewt]

Midnight Snack - Whipped

A Getting In Deep future short.

 -On the third day of lock-down the break room gave to me...

A competition for Dalgona Coffee!-

 Watch Two had been warned in advance that the base would have a five day lock-down and nonessential persons should go home to wait it out.  A bare-bones collection of people were left to slowly go crazy in Watch Two's underground base.  They had grown too accustomed to the card games where have of the players cheated.  Mario Kart couldn't hold a candle to the impromptu desk chair races which became a whole new sport when Will included the element of lances and jousting for rings hung from the ceiling.  

Even the retired test bunny, Copperfield, had gotten tired of people's need to cuddle something fluffy and would kick them before running away.  

What the Watch needed was a bit of excitement.  A bit of competition that didn't rely on cheating or luck.  And wouldn't get them killed.  

It happened when four voices complained in Main Tech.  

"I'm bored," said Will.  He had already read the books in his desk and had no inclination to read them again.  And picking out another ebook was a chore.  

"I'm tired," said Louis.  He had finally reached the over-saturation point of his coffee intake.  He would have to degrade himself to lay still and sleep that night instead of being "productive".  

"I want something sweet," Reese and Beni chorused.  They had not had time to stock up the essentials (ex: chocolates, candies, energy drinks, pixie sticks, gelatin - don't' ask), and the vending machines had not been restocked in a while, leaving behind stale chips and granola bars trying to be a treat and failing horribly.  

"Check the break room?"  offered Will.

"Sure." Louis pulled his body off his desk like he was pulling himself out of a grave.  It was only noon for crying out loud.  He needed more coffee.  Break room was a must.  

Beni and Reese, figuring Will was talking to them as well, joined the pair to the break room.  The four searched every nook, cranny, and drawer.  Beni even took out drawers to see of anything had fallen behind them.  

Aside from a few flattened and perished bags of peanuts and sugar packets, she found nothing.  

"Why do we have a twenty pound bag of rice?" asked Reese.  

"Cheap and easy food," said Will.  "I'm more worried about the ten canisters of instant coffee."  

"Without coffee there is chaos and darkness," said Louis without missing a beat.  "I'm more curious why we need a twenty pound bag of sugar."  

"Without sugar there is oppression and darkness," replied Beni.  "Plus adding sugar to cooked rice is tasty."  

Rachel, who had observed the four's need to pillage the break room at a distance, chimed in.  

"Have you ever heard of Dalgona coffee?" asked Rachel.  

All four looked up.  

"Whipped coffee, right?" said Louis.  

"Gone viral," said Will.  "I think."  

"It's half sugar," added Beni.  

"Equal parts sugar, instant coffee, and water whipped together to make a foam," said Reese. "Why do you mention it?"

Rachel shrugged. "Sounded interesting. Thought we could make a game of it."  

Game.  A chime in the wind.  A call to action.  A call to possible fun.  

"Go on," said Reese.  

*** 

In essence, Rachel wanted the four of them to compete in who could make dalgona coffee the fastest without using an electronic mixer.  At first the four assumed this would be a test of arm strength, until she added a caveat.

Only one of them would have a whisk.  

They set up the break room like a competition on Food Network, complete with aprons and pre-measured portions of instant coffee, sugar, and hot water.  Sleeves were rolled up, jackets taken off.  Beni put on her high speed roller blade goggles.

Rachel held up four paper bags with large letters from A to D written in sharpie.  

"These are your tools to aerate your dalgona coffee.  Each of you will have ten minutes to turn your tool into what you need. Your resources are tape, rubber bands, string, knives, and your own ingenuity.  No glue, no welding, no setting anything on fire."

"Aw."

"Once your tools are made you will have another ten minutes to turn your instant coffee, sugar, and water into a whipped delight.  Whosoever has the better whipped coffee after ten minutes wins.  However, one of you will receive a whisk at a time disadvantage, you will have only five minutes to whip your coffee instead of ten.  Any questions so far?"  

Reese popped the top button on his shirt and leaned over the counter with a "charming" smile.  "How do you prefer to be bribed for me to get the whisk?"  

"It will be random selection."  Rachel held out four cards with the letters A, B, C, and D, and had each of them pick one.

Each card got a matching bag.  Reese, card A, got three plastic forks.  Beni, card B, received three plastic straws.  Louis, card C, three cheap wooden chopsticks.  When she put the bag down in front of Will, she pulled it back when he reached out for it.  

"You got the whisk," said Rachel.  "You have to wait for the five minute mark."  

Will's eyes glimmered and he nodded.  

"Trade you," said Reese, holding up one of his forks.  

"Not even going to bribe me?"  asked Will in mock offense.  "I'm hurt.  And no." Will turned to Louis.  "You don't want to trade?"  

"No way, Fanboy. Me and my chopsticks are gonna out-whisk you!  You're gonna wish you never skipped arm day."  

Rachel held up her hand, contains of rubber bands, string, tape, and knives at the ready in front of her. "Ten minutes to make your whisks, go!"  

Beni, Reese, and Louis dashed to grabbed their implements.  Over the next few minutes Will got to observe his coworkers turn straws, forks, and chopsticks into something else.  

Reese proceeded to bend the tines of the fork outwards as much as he could without breaking them, and then bound the three forks together with the rubber bands to make something that looked like a sea urchin.  

Beni grabbed a knife and spliced the three straws half way down the middle in four ways, and then curled the ends back up to the barrel of the straw, securing them with a bit of tape. Once bound together she had something that looked very close to a whisk.  

Louis also took a knife and split two of the chopsticks into chop-twigs a fourth of the original length. With bits of string he tied the twigs together like little crosses, and then tied those crosses onto the third chopstick.  At the unadorned end of the chopstick, he added some rubber bands for a hand grip. Finished, it looked like a found-art depiction of a tree.

"Are we ready?"

"Bring it!" said Louis.  

"As I'll ever be," said Reese.  

"I got this," said Beni.  

"Red leader standing by!" said Will.  

"All but Will, go!"  Rachel tapped the stopwatch on her phone.  

In unison the four dumped the instant coffee, sugar, and hot water into their bowls.  While the others whisked their concoctions, Will waited, tilting his bowl this way and that to fully dissolve his ingredients.  He swirled it about, trying to see if he could get any foam going with just moving the bowl.  Any start was a good start.  

Four minutes in, Reese with his forks had turned his syrupy coffee into a slightly thicker syrup, the color changing from coffee black to dark chocolate brown.  He moved the makeshift whisk to the other hand and flexed the cramping fingers of the other.  

"Feeling the burn there?" jeered Louis.  

"I'm working at a disadvantage!" snapped Reese.  

"Excuses!" said Beni.  "Keep going!"  

Beni had her bowl on a towel and tilted as she whisked with her straws.  Her compact arms moved the whisk in a blur, as if inhaling the coffee and sugar scent energized her.  Her coffee was the color of milk chocolate.  She was also tiring, and the tape keeping her whisk together slowly peeled.

"Wow," said Will looking from one bowl to the next.  "You are all actually getting this stuff to work."  

Louis didn't turn his whisk like the others.  Instead he put the spiky end into the concoction and then twirled the top if it like a child would a dragonfly toy, or a scout trying to start a fire with two sticks. A design requiring less effort, but a fragile one as some tiny branches pivoted from where they were tied on their branch.  However, Louis coffee was also the color of milk chocolate, and slowly getting thicker.

Will felt a bit left out. Making a whisk out of found objects sounded fun, and he was sure he could have created something just as effective. But he had the advantage.  He got the whisk.  Which he could use...

"Five minutes, whisk!"  said Rachel.

Will snapped up the bag and immediately felt something was wrong.  The bag didn't feel heavy at all.  He opened the bag and saw...

Nothing.  

No.  Wait.  A glimmer of metal.  

Will tipped the bag over. One teeny tiny whisk, at home with the mice in Barbie's Malibu kitchen, rolled out onto the counter.  

Will dared not even attempt to pick it up between his fingers. He would need tweezers to even hold it.  Forget using it on his coffee.  

Will whimpered and bent over , arms braced on the counter.  "I've been defeated before I began."  

"What?" Louis looked over, saw the tiny speck of a whisk and full-belly laughed, hands fumbling at his chopstick whisk as he wiped a tear from under his shades, leaving a smear of coffee brown on his cheek.  

Beni kept whisking with her straws, but she glanced over and then smiled.  

"How did you even find a whisk that small?" Will asked Rachel, aghast.  "Polly Pocket outlet?"  

Reese chuckled. "Your overconfidence is your weakness, jedi."  

"Wrong quote," said Will, bent back to the floor.  

"Get working," said Louis.  "The coffee ain't gonna whips itself."  

"Not funny," said Will, pouting  "No one can whisk coffee with a whisk that size unless they were that size!"

Louis and Will froze and then looked at each other, the scenario finally clicking.  

"Switch with me, please!" pleaded Will.  

"I'm on a roll here!" said Louis, nodding to his coffee lightening to slightly lighter milk chocolate.  

"Switch with me or shrink with me, I'm okay with either!"  Will put on the most pitiful puppy eyes he could manage.  "I'll make it worth it!"  

"How?" said Louis.

Will leaned over, cupped his hand over Louis' ear, and whispered something that couldn't be heard over the swishing and clacking of plastic forks, chopsticks, and straws.  

Louis dropped his chopstick, grabbed Will's still un-frothed bowl, sat on the counter, and shucked off his shades, hooking them over Will's collar.  "I'll hold you to it."  

In a flash Louis had shrunk down to a little less than three inches, the bowl with him.  Perfect size for the tiny whisk.  

"Is that allowed?" cried Reese.  

"No rules against switching in the middle of the game," said Rachel, smirking.  "Four minutes left!"  

Will continued where Louis left off, twirling the chopstick until his skin burned.  Despite Rachel's warning, he just might start a fire with the amount of friction going on between his hands.  But the coffee got thicker, lighter, airy, harder to spin Louis' chopstick whisk through.  Out the corner of his vision he could see Louis attacking his bowl with his arm a blur. The tinny, tiny sound of metal against glass a constant ringing.  

Beni gritted her teeth, switched hands, and continued.  Reese cursed under his breath as his forearms protested.  

Rachel looked too happy at their collective state.  "Ten... nine..."  

The four put in a final burst of energy, coffee froth spattering over their bowls and they whisked to glory.  

"Four... three..."

Win or lose, I get to keep that promise to Louis, thought Will. And that was a prize indeed.  

"One... time!"

The whisks, what was left of them, dropped from their hands and they all backed away from the counter, wincing at their achy hands and arms.  

Louis panted laid down on the counter, and rolled his shoulders.  "Okay.  That was arm day."  

"Agreed," said Reese.  Of the three of the makeshift whisks, his had stayed in the best shape.  However his coffee was still more thick syrup than fluff.

"No more moving," added Beni.  Her whisk had practically fallen apart, bits of plastic straw sticking out every which way. But so did her coffee, the peanut butter colored fluff spiking out and staying there.  

Will's inherited chopstick whisk would never whisk again, the main branch falling off when it hit the bowl.  But the foam matched Beni's in color and stiffness, perhaps a hair lighter.  

Beside Louis a tiny bowl brimmed with light caramel colored foam, the top of it peaking like a sharp tack.

Rachel examined each of the bowls, testing the fluffiness of the coffee with a spoon and comparing the color and volume.  Louis' bowl had to be judged with the assistance of a magnifier.  Louis laid there unmoving.  Rachel also jotted down a few notes on a clipboard.  

A few minutes later, she stood before them with her judgment.  

"You should all be proud," said Rachel.  "The variety of whisks made was impressive, as well as your collective arm strength.  Which you will try to improve, I'm sure."  

Reese gave a grunt of negative.  

"Beni, you win for best use of a makeshift whisk, despite its short lifespan.  Out of all the dalgona coffees made with non-whisks, yours is the lightest and fluffiest."  

Beni held what was left of her three straws with pride.  

"Reese, while your dalgona has a ways to go, your handmade whisk can last the whole time without breaking or bending.  Out of all non-whisks, yours is the sturdiest."  

"And in a pinch double as a torture device," said Reese, airing his collar.  "For the wielder."

"Will, while at a disadvantage, you realized the proper use for the whisk given to you.  Fitting the tool to the purpose, well done."

Will nodded, but felt the praise was undeserved.  He had jumped in on Louis' bowl halfway.  That didn't count in his mind.  

"And Louis," said Rachel.  

Louis groaned on the counter.  

"I have never seen an arm whisk that fast.  For pure, brutal arm strength, you get the strongest arms."  

"Yay," Louis said, deadpan.  

"What do we win?" asked Reese.  

"I already have a batch of dalgona in the freezer.  All of you get to take a break and I will serve each of you a bowl."  

"And...?" edged Beni.  

"And there  are sprinkles, chocolate syrup, and redi whip for your use."  

Beni and Reese cheered as they ran back to their desks, still splattered with sugar coffee syrup and clad in their aprons.  

Will leaned down next to Louis' tiny prone form.  "You can have my frozen dalgona."  

"On top of what you promised?"  

Will blushed. "Yes.  You'll have to get it later tonight.  I had a lot for lunch."  

"Gotcha," said Louis.  "Would you mind picking me up?  I can't move my arms, I'll be flopping around like a fish."  

"Whatever you want, Mighty Mouse."  

"The Mightiest"

Will nodded and gently scooped Louis up in his palm.  They would wait out in Rachel's lab until Louis could turn back to normal size.  

***

Rachel covered the large bowls and set them in the fridge.  They would be good for coffee come morning.  The tiny bowl Rachel set aside on a lab tray.  She had a test on air density and viscosity to run.  

***

Beni and Reese had their bowls of dalgona slathered with caramel and chocolate sauce, sprinkles like confetti on velvet.  As much as they preferred energy drinks over coffee for their caffeine needs, they could appreciate it's slightly bitter taste as a dessert.  

In a spare office space designated as sleeping quarters for the lockdown, Louis enjoyed his double dose of dalgona with Will's help.  Louis lay on a cot with two pillows under his shoulders.  Louis refused to move his arms, claiming that whipping his tiny bowl of dalgona had ripped his muscles to shreds and needed help.  Will indulged his overreaction and fed him with loving spoonfuls.  

"Thank you for switching with me."  Will swirled the spoonful of dalgona through a streak of chocolate and whipped cream. "You didn't have to."  

"Yes I did," said Louis.  "Rachel's been wanting me to do more tests with her during lockdown.  And I've been avoiding it."  

"Oh."  

Louis reached out a pinky to Will's thigh.  "You're the only one I would have switched with."  

"Good.  I'd hate to be jealous of Reese over a cooking competition."  

"Speaking of competition," said Louis, sliding closer.  "I won a little something."  

"Hardly little."

"I will be." Louis rose up from the pillows and pressed his mouth to Will's, sharing the bitter taste of coffee and too much sugar. They parted with a sugary smek. "Gonna let me inside?"  

Will licked his lips, butterflies in his stomach ready to migrate,  and put the bowls aside.  

***

Later that night, Beni, Reese, Louis, and Rachel, realized that a scoop of dalgona coffee should not be eaten like ice cream right before they were about to sleep.  

Sleep did not happen until the crack of dawn.  For many reasons.  

--------

If you enjoyed this short, consider buying me a ko-fi!  

[poppibranchlover]

Nine Lives, One Fight - Part 17

The story: Deep in the forest of Troll Town, there lies a mysterious tiny purple mushroom that has a secret magical ability. King Peppy calls this mushroom forbidden for all Trolls to go near it. One day, while Branch is out in the woods doing his survival research studying, he encounters it and, not knowing it is a regular mushroom, decides to harvest it and bring it home. But in the next morning, its magic effects transform him into a small blue cat! After being sent to the animal pound, his girlfriend, Poppy, finds him and decides to adopt him, although not recognizing it is Branch. Desperate to finish his research project due for a special event invented by Poppy, Branch is forced to learn how to behave like a pet cat and must figure out what caused him to become one.

You already seen what had happened in Part 16. Now get ready for Part 17!:

Meanwhile, Wiggles is hopping in another part of the woods. He grew more and more angry with each hop he took. “Ugh, told him that the village don’t know that cat but he never listened. What kind of cat can step on stage and plead to the village Queen?”

He continued on his way when a shadow resembling Branch ran by. WHOOSH!!!

Wiggles jumped back in shock, his ears drooping with concern. “Who’s there?!” he cried. “Is that you, Branch?” He can clearly recognize that shadow shaped like the one person he knew. But he has no idea that Branch might have stalked him like a predator.

Once again, Branch’s shadow appeared from behind Wiggles. He quickly turned to where it popped out, but discovered that it had disappeared into the foliage.

Wiggles grew more nervous. He crept with one paw to the next, ready to get away, and he muttered under his breath “Okay…I’m just gonna…”

Suddenly, a high-pitched voice squeaked:

“HELP!!! CAT!!!”

“Where?” Wiggles turned around and saw a tiny grey-furred mouse scurrying towards him. The little critter looked frightened and was running away from something.

“Oh my!” Wiggles exclaimed as the mouse ran past him. Then he heard some fierce snarling.

“MEEEEOOOOWRRR!!!”

“Yikes!” Wiggles jumped backwards when Branch came bursting out of nowhere and sprinting after the poor little rodent, who was squeaking with dread as he was about to meet his demise to a big cat. Branch didn’t seem to look like himself as his eyes looked a lot like those of an actual cat.

“Branch?!” Wiggles asked in disbelief, hardly able to recognize his friend. Then he ran after him, trying to stop him. “Branch, come back!”

“Stay away from me!” the mouse squeaked in horror as Branch came closer to him. “Somebody help! Get this mangy cat boy away from me!”

But Branch didn’t respond in his own voice. Instead, he was hissing and meowing menacingly at him. “HIIIIIIIIISSSS!!!! MEEEEOOOWWWRRRR!!!”

He chased the scared little mouse around the woods, just as Wiggles followed behind him. “Come back here! Don’t eat that!” he yelled. To the rabbit, he always knew how most cats reacted to mice: they eat them, and it’s nature. But he also knew that Branch, as a cat, should not be eating anyone and he certainly didn’t like to do that.

Finally, the mouse stopped to a dead end, with some trees blocking his way. Before there was any chance for the tiny animal to get away, Branch instantly cornered him, licking his lips. Then he slammed the mouse’s tail with his paw and prepares to put it in his mouth.

The mouse struggled to break free of Branch’s grip, squeaking. But before Branch could even open his mouth, a voice shouted “Hold it right there!”

Branch turned around and saw Wiggles glaring at him. The bunny stomped towards him and protested “There has to be some sort of mistake here. Branch, do not eat that rodent! It’s meant to live!”

“Meow!” Branch meowed in his natural cat voice, instead of speaking out words. He reached out his teeth to the mouse’s fur, ready to bite.

“Are you even listening, buddy?” Wiggles demanded. “Please respect nature!”

Branch still didn’t respond. He dropped the mouse from his mouth and prowled towards him, hissing angrily. “Meeeeeeowwwr!!!”

Wiggles backed away as Branch moved towards him, fear rushing down his little spine. “Alright, let’s not start another food chain,” he begged. “Do you remember me? I’m your friend! Answer me-”

“HIIIIIIIISSSSS!!!! MEEEEOOOOWWRRR!!!!”

He had no time to say more because Branch swiped his paws at him! His sharp claws stretched out, their sharp points glinting like knives.

“Okay! You don’t know me!” Wiggles screamed and made a run for his life. “You can’t see me!”

“Meeeeoooowwwrr!!!” Branch screeched as he chased Wiggles in a wild goose chase around the forest. He slashed his claws at the bunny, hissing and pouncing.

Wiggles found a tall tree and started to climb to the top, hoping to be far from him. Branch leaped up and swiped his claws at him, but thanks to the higher ground, he couldn’t reach for him.

“Quit playing tricks on me, kid!” Wiggles shouted from his tree. “This isn’t you!”

Branch continued to reach for him again, snarling fiercely. “Meeeeeeoooowwwrrr!!!”

“Okay, I get it!” Wiggles shouted, bracing himself. “I get it! I’m truly finished. You still want-”

Branch interrupted him with another swipe. “MEEEEEEEEEEOWWWRRR!!!!”

Wiggles covered his eyes with his ears and screamed as Branch’s claws almost reached for his fur. “Don’t kill me, cat!” he cried, trembling.

But before Branch could get any closer to him, he tumbled off the tree and fell on his back on the ground. THUD!!

“Meeeeowr!!” Branch meowed in defeat.

Wiggles sighed with relief, thinking his trick had stopped him. He began to climb down the tree to confront him. Branch moved his four paws around, meowing and struggling to get up. Then he saw Wiggles approaching him.

“Hah!” Wiggles said triumphantly, blowing a raspberry through his tongue at him. “Now you’ll never take me alive!”

With all of his strength, Branch got himself back on his legs and slowly advanced towards him, sneering like mad. His wide cat-like eyes glared with sheer anger and greed. “Meeeeeeeeoowwrrrr!!!”

Wiggles tried to look for something to get rid of him. He threw a stick at him but Branch swiped it away. He continued approaching him, baring his sharp teeth.

“Oh no, you can’t betray me!” Wiggles told him. “Just hear me out. You and I are a great team. Nothing is more important than our friendship.”

Branch stared at him with confusion for a moment. Then he continued on what he wanted to do. “Meeeooow! Meow!” he snarled, ready to pounce on his prey.

Wiggles wanted to intervene so that it would distract him. “Come on, pal. If you start eating me, I’ll never get through this when I’m dead,” he went on with his explanation. But when Branch got closer, opening his mouth and preparing to swallow the bunny whole, he spoke to him louder “Hey, kid? I’m baring my soul here. The least you can do is pay attention!”

Jumping up, Wiggles kicked Branch’s face with his little back legs!

SMACK!!!! SMACK!!!! WHAM!!! BAM!!!

“WAKE UP!!!” Wiggles shouted as he continued kicking Branch’s face in an effort to make him snap out of it. In a flash, Branch’s meowing switched back to his normal voice.

“Ooooffff, oooffff! Mmmph!! Ow! Hey, what are you-agh!” he cried between hits. When Wiggles landed on the ground, Branch shook his head vigorously and opened his eyes wide, now back to normal. He blinked and looked around innocently with his mouth open in shock, wanting to know what is going on.

“Are you okay?” Wiggles asked in a concerned tone, trying to console him. “You look terrible!”

Branch cleared his throat and turned to his bunny friend, completely unaware of the earlier events taking place. “What just happened?” he asked.

Suddenly, Branch’s face contorted with nausea and he immediately retched, causing his cheeks to grow big as if he is about to vomit something from his mouth. “Oooomfff…”

Then he aimed towards the ground and started coughing and hacking until he spat out a tuft of fur on the grass. “BLEGH!!!”

The ball of fur expelled from Branch’s mouth and landed with a SPLAT!!! Wiggles winced uncomfortably. “Yuck!”

Branch coughed for a moment, and then he stared at the saliva-covered fur, feeling horrifically disgusted at what he had spat out.

“Ugh!” Branch winced, embarrassed and disgusted. “Why do I have grey fur in my mouth?”

Wiggles pointed to a corner, where the mouse that Branch tried to eat earlier approached. He shook an angry fist at him, squeaking angrily “STUPID CAT! YOU ALMOST TRIED TO EAT ME!!!”

This could only mean trouble! Branch looked at the mouse with guilt and shame washing over his face. “What did I just do?!” he asked in fear.

“You were chasing that little mouse all over the woods and you’ve gone mad, trying to eat people!” Wiggles told him.

“But I don’t eat anyone in my life!” Branch cried, looking more embarrassed. He decided to apologize to the mouse so he can agree at this matter.

Branch ran up to the mouse and tried to explain. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do that! I don’t even eat mice like you! I want you to be safe, not swallowing innocent creatures.”

The mouse didn’t look very happy to see him looking so apologetic and kind like that. He pointed accusingly at Branch and shouted “LIAR!!! You should’ve swore that before you pounced on me! You’re such a monster!”

Branch stepped back, feeling hurt. He knew it wasn’t very good to shout at others like that, even when he almost tried to eat that tiny rodent. He felt sorry for doing this to the mouse. “Please don’t say that word in front of me,” he begged the creature. “I’m very nice.”

But the mouse jumped up and punched him straight in the face!

SMACK!!!

“OW!!!” Branch yelled upon being hit in the face once again. Then the mouse scurried off, disappearing into the woods.

“Hey, wait!” Branch called after the mouse. “I’m friendly! Come back! Don’t run away from me! We can talk about this!”

But the mouse was already gone. Branch turned to Wiggles and asked in disbelief “What is happening to me? That mouse thinks I’m a-” But then halfway through his sentence, his voice switched into a normal cat’s. “Meow!”

Branch quickly placed a paw to his mouth, surprised at what he had said. “Wait a minute. Did I just—Meow?”

He gasped. “What is—Meow!—happening to my voice?!” he cried, as nonstop meowing filled his voice every time he tried to speak.

Wiggles stared at him in concern. “Apparently, it must have been some sort of latent feline instincts kicking in,” he said. “Have you looked in a mirror?”

Realizing that something’s wrong with himself, Branch grew alarmed. “Oh no! Meow! NO!!!” He quickly sprinted off, yelling “This can’t be happening to me!”

“Where are you going?” Wiggles asked, running after him.

“I gotta-MEOW!!!” Branch called between his normal voice and his cat voice like a malfunctioning robot. “I gotta GO!!!”

Branch made his way back to the village, where the Show-and-Tell festival is still taking place. He searched for Poppy’s backpack and ran towards it.

He opened the bag and pulled out her nature journal from it. Then he quickly flipped through the pages of the book, trying to remember which one has the page with the Archaeo morphisis mushroom in it.

“Come on, come on,” Branch muttered, his face sweating. “Where is it? Where is that-?”

Soon he reaches the page that discusses about the Archaeo morphisis mushroom. He sighed with relief. “Oh, thank god!”

Settling the book down on the grass, Branch began to read the contents, attempting to figure out the cause of what transformed him into a cat.

“What does it say?” Branch asked, examining each paragraph. He read the first one aloud. “The Archaeo morphisis is a special mushroom that usually grows at the furthest peak of the Troll world. Anyone who touches it will…”

Immediately stopping at the sentence “…cause its magical abilities to spread”, Branch gasped, realizing the truth of the magical mushroom. “Oh no! Now I know what that thing did to me!”

In his head, Branch heard Poppy’s warning of going near the Archaeo morphisis before he completely took it away. Ashamed at what he just read, he turned to another page that explains more about the mushroom. “Wait a second,” he said. “What are the disadvantages of remaining as a cat?”

At the next page, Branch continued to read more information. He learned about staying safe from the Archaeo morphisis’ rightful place, and he discovered this scary paragraph on the right side:

“However, when the victim was transformed by the mushroom, he or she will stay in their new form within six days, until fully becoming the form they assume in the process. Thus, a Troll’s desire to be the person you once were will dissolve in your brain, and the victim will remain in their transformed state forever. Any effect not tolerated for its further use will become permanent.”

Below the paragraph, Branch can see a scrapbook cutout of a Troll turning into a cat with Troll hair, just like him before. He knew what this had meant: The Archaeo morphisis mushroom had transformed him after he pulled it out from the ground!

“Oh my god,” Branch said under his breath, trembling with fear as he kept looking at the pages. “No…no, this can’t be…” He looked down at his front paws and sat down like an animal, his head hung low as he felt completely overwhelmed at what he had been reading. He had always known how do magical artifacts affect Troll life, but now he had proof.

Wiggles came to Branch’s side. “Hey, bookworm!” he said. “Whatcha’ readin’?” When he looked at the Archaeo morphisis section in Poppy’s journal, he can definitely tell how sad he became.

“I’m glad you’re here, Wiggles,” said Branch. Then he went on to explaining the situation. “I was wrong about what Poppy and her dad said to me this whole time. I shouldn’t really be picking up that mushroom.”

“Wrong?” asked Wiggles. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s all my fault,” Branch confessed, his voice choked with emotion. “I usually thought that mushroom isn’t magical that I completely ignored Poppy’s warnings. That’s how I discovered the truth.” He pointed sadly to the scrapbook cutout of the Troll’s transformation into an animal on the page explaining the disadvantage of staying in the spell for too long.

Wiggles looked at the pages, feeling so despondent. “Geez, what kind of witchcraft would do some things like that to a Troll?” he asked.

“Poppy had written out all these information,” Branch explained. “These were all true to the Trolls’ history.”

Suddenly, Wiggles realized what this is all about. “Hold on. Let me get this straight.” He cocked his head to the side with his ears drooped. “Are you really a Troll under a spell?”

Branch clearly noticed how fast Wiggles is able to find the truth. “Yes,” he answered in a soft voice. “Why?”

“You never told me that,” Wiggles said, raising an eyebrow.

Branch looked at him in anguish. Now that some animal discovered that he was a Troll, his cover has been completely blown by the little rabbit’s curiosity. “I’m very sorry!” Branch said in a shaky tone. “I was masquerading as a pet to the village Queen for the entire week when she picked me up from the animal shelter mistaking me as one!” Branch suddenly felt tears stinging at his eyes and he had to tilt his head down with sorrow. When he spoke again, his voice was small and quiet. “You were right, Wiggles. Every time I tried to get her to recognize me, she won’t even listen.”

Wiggles frowned, not fully picking up on Branch’s tone. “What are you going to do anyway?”

Branch took a long breath in to steady himself before he can think of a decision. He stood on his four legs and said “I have to find that magic mushroom so I can change back, or else after six days, I’ll be stuck as a cat forever! I’ll completely become ‘cat brain’!”

Wiggles has no idea what that meant. “What does it mean?” he asked, wanting to know the answer.

“I’ll think like a cat for all eternity,” Branch explained, his voice filled with distress. “All of the feline instincts will cover up the rest of my brain, and I’ll lose everything I remember!”

Wiggles gasped. If the mushroom’s spell really took effect on its final stage, Branch will start losing his Troll consciousness, turning more and more into a real cat, and without the ability to think like a Troll, he will never recognize his friends and family forever.

Branch sighed and hung his head as his tail slunk back and forth on the grass between his back legs, almost as if it could sense the mood within itself.

Wiggles did what he could to comfort him. He suddenly thought about Poppy and asked “What about Poppy? You will forget about her too when you became ‘full cat’.”

The words seemed to struck into Branch’s mind. He straightened up and drew in a breath to steady himself. Then he faced Wiggles and said “Poppy was the most sweetest Troll I’ve always looked up to. She loved me more than ever; no matter how lonely she will be.” He sighed for a moment and continued “Of course, if I ended up ‘cat brain’, I will lose everything about her.”

Wiggles nodded, feeling proud that he had been right. “No wonder she’s so special in your life,” he said.

“Yeah,” Branch replied. “If only I had high hopes on breaking this curse, I would be able to enjoy my life again. I can’t believe I’ve been ignoring Poppy and her dad’s warnings.”

“Then you should listen to them!” Wiggles insisted. “If you should have leave any magical plant alone, you wouldn’t have met me in the forest in the first place!”

Branch took a moment to look at the little rabbit’s cute eyes of encouragement. Then he looked at his cat body, concerned about remaining as a cat with the desire to eat mice and other small critters and spitting out hairballs on the ground. “Wiggles, I’m scared,” he said in a trembling voice. “I don’t want to stay like this forever. I’ll forget about the happiest times I spent with Poppy and all her people. There must be some way to solve this problem.”

Wiggles hopped to his side and patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, kid,” he reassured him. “You’ve come to the right bunny for the job! There will be a way I can solve your problem!”

Branch looked puzzled. Does he really think this white fluff of a cottontail can help him find a solution? In fact, he looked a little crazy on coming up with possible ideas!

Wiggles began to brush past Branch and hop off to the other side of the village, hoping to set things right for his friend.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Branch. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

“As you said to me, I’ll help you find that magic mushroom!” Wiggles replied over his shoulder. “Come with me!”

He began to hop off into town, urging Branch to follow him by waving his long ears. Nervous yet willing to try to do his task, Branch hurried after him, sprinting in his four legs.

                                           To Be Continued…

                                       Stay tuned for Part 18!

UPDATE: I had to redo the whole thing by copying and pasting from my previous attempt to post this part due to the typo error. There I go, now I fixed it! I hope you like it, everyone! 😊

[red-and-blonde-moved]

(Characters and premise by @kingbrickisthelocalcryptid​ story and art by me)

I was built to be a child, a Pinnochio of sorts, with china skin and painted lips, I was his daughter.

He didn’t want me, really, there were no blue fairies to make me the child he really longed for. Despite my rosy cheeks I could not grin, despite my pink lips they couldn’t open into the childish giggle I heard from other kids.

I was incomplete.

One night he rolled over and pushed me to the floor, my ball-jointed legs caught me so I could stand before slumping back into a sit.

I knew I could move but I never did in case I’d break his heart further through my lack of a voice.

Instead, I stood once more and climbed onto his windowsill and watched the stars go by, all I heard was the ticking of the old grandfather clock and the sounds of night creatures; I longed to be with them.

When the sun turned the sky blue I climbed back onto the foot of my father’s bed and returned to my lifeless pose, waiting for him to wake.

I loved my father despite the fact that I could not satisfy him, in the night I took his pens and wrote him letters.

He named me Polly and that’s what I signed them.

I don’t think he believed they were mine, but the smile they brought him was enough for me.

One day his niece came over, he loved his niece, his niece loved him less so.

She filled boxes with his toys and put them in the attic, she put me in a box of books and placed me next to some other dolls like me.

I thought father would come back but he never did, and I could never open the door to the attic.

I found a kerosene lamp and enough kerosene to last me for years, every night I spent reading the books I was placed with.

These books were about lands far far away, adventurers, pirates, knights, princesses, inventors, scientists, every one enthralled me.

I’d show the sea to my china brothers and sisters but they never saw, glassy bead eyes not glinting with life like mine.

I showed the swallows a desert and they brought me a beak full of sand each, I touched it, it was cold, I wished I could feel how warm it was wherever they got it.

The mice read the stories with me, one of them brought me a pendant and told me it was fit for a prince, I swore that like the princes in my story I would give it to whichever knight saved me from my tower.

The dust bunnies swarmed me excitedly when I read about an adventurer and his dog who walked through challenge after challenge to find a home together, I wished I could read it for them but I thought they could do it fine themselves.

But my favourite story was one about an airship, I wanted to soar the skies like these adventurers. Feel the wind on my face and watch the world fall away from me, it was all I wanted.

One day the trapdoor up to the attic opened, a young man in a tailored vest was opening it for a young woman in skirts much longer than seemed practical to be climbing stairs who was carrying a box.

“My goodness, Patsy! It’s a gold mine up here! Look at these beautiful dolls!” The young man said with childlike glee, I saw him pick up one of my brothers and examine him. “You know how my father works at this museum? He was saying they wanted some dolls for an exhibit! He’d be ecstatic.”

The woman, Patsy, placed down her box before she walked over to me and picked me up. 

“Now little girl, why aren’t you with your friends? Why isn’t she just beautiful William? The detail! We have to show your father,” She held me gently, examining my joins before cradling me like a baby.

“She is quite incredible, and look! It appears she likes to read!” William laughed, going over to pick up my books. “We can hardly take her away from her stories now can we?”

“She must be getting terribly tired of them I doubt she’s read anything new for ages!” Patsy laughed. “You could tell us both one of your stories while I make us dinner tonight, we’ll pay your father a visit in the morning and let him look them over.

My home had changed a lot since when I went to the attic, I missed my father but I simply watched as the couple danced around their kitchen with a loving glint in both their eyes.

William told us stories about a clockwork dragon, and a cowboy who fought a demon train, and a navy man turned pirate who saved his crew from pirates by lighting their rum ablaze, and a couple who were almost killed while at a ball, then they sat for dinner and left me in the kitchen to go to bed.

I snuck back up through the open attic door and took my princes pendant and hid it in the layers of my skirts by tying it around my waist in between my skirt and petticoat, then I went back downstairs, I found a sepia photo of my father, old and grey with a boy who looked like William on his lap. I would have smiled if I could. Father got his son after all.

I returned to the table with the green pendant against my hip, knowing it was safe.

Patsy held me like a child all the way to Williams father’s house, I was excited to see my father again, but when William greeted the unfamiliar middle-aged man with “Hello, Father.” I knew it was a bust.

I saw his wife and knew it was my fathers niece immediately, the same orange-blonde hair and beauty mark beside her lip, and she laughed when she saw me.

“Why this was my uncles! I haven’t seen you in a while, sweetie I’ll write something up about my uncle for the museum, I think he would have wanted her to be remembered for others,” She said, running off to write that.

I spent the day in Patsy’s- or Martha as Williams father called her- arms. I watched quietly as he examined me and said I was perfect, then as they left she placed me carefully on the table and kissed my head.

“You’ll like your new home, I hope,” she said with a smile and took Williams hand to leave out the door.

My new home was loud.

Loud in the day as kids ran around and parents talked about me and people stared at me, one time when it was quiet I just turned myself around and no one fixed me until the night.

I broke the glass case around me one night and explored the museum.

There were the bones of giant lizards, and swords from real pirates, there was a boat that I climbed in to pretend I was sailing but most amazingly, there was a decommissioned aircraft.

The N.S.S Zephyr the plaque read, it was outside and looked like it hung from the sky, I scaled the stairs into it and looked around.

It had two long wings and looked like a giant bullet-shaped balloon was attached to a pirates ship, there was access to the lower deck which was full of automatons who were designed to look like Pirates, they were all powered off and I couldn’t reach the button to turn them on.

The upper deck had a captains cabin with books, I found a small enough one and opened it up. Madam Grimms Tales of Fae. I carried it awkwardly to the steps up to the top part with the steering wheel, where I placed it down so I could climb up.

At the wheel, I felt the night breeze push my long hair behind me and my bonnet begin to slip off. I truly felt like I was flying.

I stayed there until it started to get blue, the point before the sun rises where the birds sing to me. And I got my book and returned to my case, I hid the book under the stand, expecting that the owners of this museum would take it away if they saw it.

They took away my broken glass case, leaving me without it until they came back with a new one, for those days I snuck my book up and a few more from around the museum which I hid under the blankets and pillows I sat on.

When I got my new case I spent my nights reading about faeries and swan princesses and the adventures of princes.

I felt, more than ever, like one of these princes trapped in a tower, waiting for his knight, longing for the world away from my captors.

I pictured my knight, a china doll like me, or a human who would hold me against his chest, or a child who’d take me on adventures.

I waited every night for my knight in shining armour to appear, praying he would.

One night a door opened, I felt cold as I hid my book back under my pillow, but it was too late to get back into a sitting position before a brass robot with an aviator cap with goggles pulled down over his eyes, he had a long red scarf and a bushy brown moustache and he grinned when he saw me.

“Aren’t you beautiful, hello there little lady,” He greeted, taking off my case. I shook my head aggressively. 

“Not a lady?” He asked; I nodded.

“Okay then. I heard about you and I was wondering if you’d like to go adventuring with me? How did I hear of you? Well, the little porcelain doll who steals books and breaks their case is pretty talked about.”

I sagged my shoulders in a sigh and pulled out all my hidden books, I had hoped they wouldn’t be noticed at all.

“I’d say you’re itching to go see the sights, I have a hot air balloon and I wanted a travelling companion.” I stared up at him in shock before nodding my head very fast. 

“Well, come on pretty doll, let’s go adventure.” I cocked my head at the word pretty.

The bot laughed, pulling out a handheld mirror from his pack.

The brass robot gave me the mirror, I peered into my face as my father had wanted me, still just like I was painted, I did not change like my father, I was simply an eternal child, despite my age.

I had rosy cheeks and bright red lips in a slight smile, I had clear blue eyes with large painted eyelashes and long blonde hair with a brown bonnet.

“What are you staring at so intensely?” The brass robot asked with a robotic chuckle.

 I raised my hand to my hair and tugged at it, peering up at the robot. He nodded and pulled out a pocket knife. Carefully he chopped my hair short and took away my bonnet. 

“You must be cold now…” he murmured, he took the bright red woollen scarf from his neck, it was far too long for me and wrapped around my chin and neck and shoulders easily, but I wasn’t cold.

“Come on, before someone sees.”

The balloon was huge, big and green made of a patchwork of fixed holes so much I could hardly tell what the original balloon looked like.

It was tethered down with a rope and the brass robot pulled it down, helping me in before jumping in himself and closing the gate that opened up the basket.

He tugged up the peg out of the dirt and began to tug on the string which raised us higher.

When we were high enough he lifted me up and held me so I could look out over the basket over onto the slowly disappearing ground.

The stars shone brightly as we flew, he made a set up to let me peer over the edge while he worked on steering us.

He began to sing a song about a girl who loved to fly and her adventures, I listened happily before hopping down into the basket and dancing around his feet, playing with my skirts happily as I danced.

He picked me up and rocked me as he continued to sing and span me around. 

He couldn’t see my face change, but I was happier than I’d ever been, and he knew.

“Come on my tiny prince, I’m gonna show you the world,” he whispered, kissing my cheek. And I knew I’d found my knight.

Taking the green pendant out from my skirts I held it up to him and he took it with a grin, tying it around his neck.

My knight in dull brass armour.

And held close to his boiler to stave off the chill of the wind I knew I was finally free.

[saintaliceofwonderland]

I found this checklist at a pet store that has rabbits, Guinea pigs, hamsters, and ferrets. This is a nice checklist overall, but there are a few items you don't necessarily need for a pet rabbit. Here's what I recommend based on my research and my experience with Alice.

Hay: Hay and dry food are a must. The type of hay to get depends on how old your rabbit is. Young rabbits can have alfalfa hay, but that is too sweet for adult rabbits. Adults need timothy hay, which can be mixed with orchard grass for variety. (Alice loves the blend!)

Dry food: Dry food, or pellets, is made with alfalfa hay or timothy hay, depending on the age of the rabbit for which it is marketed. Get alfalfa hay and pellets for young rabbits, and timothy hay and pellets for adults. Some rabbits, like Alice, are picky eaters, and may not eat much of their dry food. You can grind them and mix them with leafy greens.

Bedding: Hay also makes a great bedding! Rabbits love to lay and eat in their hay.

Salt Licks: Salt licks aren't that helpful. The idea behind them is that the rabbit will lick the salt, and in turn, drink more water. But who just licks salt for fun? Just because it's there? And it may not be a good idea to give them too much salt.

Treats: Treats are good! But I recommend fresh fruit and vegetables, and nothing with corn, oats, seeds, or yogurt. Those are just marketing gimmicks and not safe for rabbits.

Water bottle or bowl and food bowl: A rabbit parent may be tempted to leave the water in a water bottle until it's empty. Water bottles can harbor germs at the nozzles, and the water inside isn't always fresh. Instead, use a bowl or a crock to ensure they get fresh water every day. Make sure that your rabbit can't knock it over, though! Feeders are helpful, too, at least for Alice.

Cage/Hutch: Sigh. Although the pet stores may give you a cage with your rabbit, cages are just too small for them. They're cramped and tend to smell. A better idea is to make the cage part of the pen, so they can go in and out of it as they please. In my humble opinion, a hutch is just a large cage. Some hutches have two stories, but have the same limitations as cages. And do not leave rabbits outdoors in a hutch! That exposes them to the elements.

Little tray? I imagine the person who wrote this pamphlet meant "litter tray". Many litter trays made specifically for rabbits are triangular so they can fit in a corner of a pen. But they're usually too small for the bunny. Choose a cardboard or plastic box big enough for the bunny to turn around in. If you use cardboard boxes, you must replace them regularly! The shredded paper that you find in pet stores isn't as absobent as paper towels, and are usually too expensive as litter. And don't forget to add hay to the box; rabbits are known to eat and poop in the same area.

Hammocks are exclusively for ferrets. The inclusion of hammocks in this list reflects the greater trend of lumping rabbits, rodents, and ferrets together in the "small pet" category. I don't know much about ferrets, and I've never had hamsters, mice, rats, or Guinea pigs.

Hide boxes and Tunnels: These are actually good to have in the habitat! Because rabbits are "prey animals", they need a place to hide and feel secure. You can have one or the other, depending on your rabbit's preference. Alice likes boxes and "hidey holes" made of timothy hay and wood.

Natural wood toys and Nibble Sticks: Wooden toys allow your rabbit to chew and keep their teeth trimmed, as their teeth are always growing. Make sure the wood is not treated; chemicals used to treat wood can make the rabbit sick.

Nail trimmers and Grooming brush: Bunnies don't like having their nails trimmed or having their feet touched. If you're trimming their nails at home, you may need someone to help you keep them still. If your bunny is just too fidgety, you can take them to a professional rabbit groomer with their own nail trimmers. However, every rabbit parent needs their own brush. Usually, rabbits who trust you are calm enough to let you brush them.

Vitamins: If you give your rabbit enough leafy greens and dry food, they shouldn't need vitamins. However, papaya tablets have enzymes that help rabbits digest hay and prevent hairballs. Guinea pigs need vitamin C supplements, but rabbits can make their own.

There is so much information about rabbits and rabbit care, so it's important to do your research to pick what's best for your new furry friend.

[v-thinks-on]

Thieves in the Night

Part 1 of Jeeves and the Amateur Cracksman

Next

Jeeves - my man, you know - is a truly remarkable cove. He comes up with all kinds of brainy ideas to help out a chappie in a pinch and has all kinds of pinch-getting-out-of skills besides. He gives a sort of unchanging impression, as though he had sprung into being fully formed, like how the good old ancient Greeks and Romans and what not thought their goddess Athena (or rather Diana) had burst straight out of her old guv’nor’s head without any of that growing-up nonsense. Not that Jeeves would ever cause such a stir as bursting out of anyone’s head, being rather more inclined to simply project himself out.

But when it comes down to it, Jeeves is a mere mortal like all the rest of us, and so he must have come from somewhere - if perhaps somewhere a little brainier and with rather more fish than the common lot. I’ve often wondered over the long years of our acquaintance how he got those marvelous brains of his and why a fellow like him would want to work for a chappie like Bertram Wooster. It’s one of those grand mysteries of life, but this one happens to have an answer.

I suppose it all begins with my old pal Bunny Manders. It started not long after Jeeves had joined the Wooster household and, well, Bunny’s more of a writer than I am really, so I’ll let him tell it to start:

It was a cold night. Raffles and I stood outside for what felt like hours in our heavy coats, staring up into a third floor flat of the illustrious Berkeley Mansions, not a few blocks from Raffles’s own lodgings at the Albany. We looked like any decent gentlemen passing on the street even at such a late hour, perhaps standing around to wait for a friend, but our errand was a much less gregarious one.

“Are you sure you want to try it?” I asked him for certainly not the first time that evening. “What if he’s caught on? He isn’t just one of your ordinary marks, you know, he’s-”

At that point, Raffles cut me off. “That’s exactly why we must!” he exclaimed in a sharp whisper. “I couldn’t forgive myself if I’d passed up the chance. No, we’ll go in there and what’s more we’ll go in tonight!”

I glanced up at the darkened windows, each one seeming to hide someone lurking in the shadows, just out of sight. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I glimpsed a tall, dark figure looming in the shadows between the streetlamps’ golden glow.

“Not to worry, Bunny,” Raffles insisted, “I’ve got the joint cased from top to bottom. But you can stay behind and stand watch if that would put your mind at ease.”

“Not at all! I mean, of course I’ll come.”

“Good old Bunny!” He clapped me on the shoulder.

I smiled back at him, but his attention had returned to his mark. My eyes darted up and down the street again and back up at the window. All seemed quiet for the time being, but I had a creeping feeling we were being watched.

Casually as you please, Raffles started to meander across the silent and empty street toward the darkened apartments, all of their inhabitants no doubt fast asleep - or so I hoped. I hastily hurried after him.

I jumped at the sound of something rustling in the bushes behind us.

“Bunny!” Raffles exclaimed impatiently, again in a whisper. He turned to see what I was staring at and gave a low laugh. “It’s just a rabbit, nothing to be afraid of.”

And he was right, for just at the moment he had turned to look, a little bunny rabbit had come hopping out of the bushes, minding its own business nibbling at the grass around it. My face turned beet red with embarrassment.

Raffles took it with a smile. “With any luck, that’ll be the worst of it tonight. Come along.” He beckoned me to follow him around to the alleyway that ran along the side of the building, wedged between one grand residence and the next.

It was there, in the dark alleyway, that we slipped on our masks. Then, I helped Raffles unfurl his ingenious rope ladder.

“We’ll have to do it in parts,” he muttered as he tossed it up to a second story window.

He gave the ladder a single solid tug to be certain the hook held, and then we began our first ascent. Raffles went first, of course, and I sluggishly took up the rear, clinging to the thin, dangling ropes for dear life. At last, Raffles hauled me up onto a window sill, and I plastered myself to the wall as I caught my breath, my poor hands stinging where the rough ropes had dug into them.

I didn’t have long to rest - if it could be called that, balancing on a window sill - before Raffles finished pulling up the ladder and had re-anchored it a story up, and we resumed our ascent. That one more story was all we had left to climb, and as we approached the window, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, not just from the exertion. I wondered if we had been heard already, I could feel eyes peering out at us from the darkness, watching as we charged blindly into a trap.

But it was too late to protest. Raffles helped me up again and put a finger to his lips as he began to work on the window. It was slow going and even the tiniest squeak was deafening to my ears. My blood ran cold like the icy wind. Finally, Raffles pried the window open so it was just barely wide enough for him to squeeze through and I followed after with some difficulty.

I tumbled out into Raffles’s arms. Somehow he managed to cushion my fall as to mute my landing, but still I cringed at the din in the otherwise silent, seemingly abandoned flat. We hastily picked ourselves up and stopped cold.

From the shadows emerged the form of a man, as though he had materialized from the darkness itself. His features were pale white in the moonlight as he stood, staring at us, stern and silent, like a statue of marble or wax, meticulously dressed with not a thing out of place. He gave no impression of having been startled or stirred from any manner of slumber; he had been expecting us.

Now, at this time, old Bertram Wooster was supposedly lost in dreamland, getting his requisite forty winks. But maybe it was the weather, or something I’d had at dinner, or perhaps an odd premonition, or maybe Bunny and his pal weren’t quite so stealthy as they thought, but whatever the case was, something roused me from my slumber. I was dazedly blinking the sleep from my eyes when I most certainly heard something that sounded rather like talking coming from the other room.

If I’d had guests at the time, take Claude and Eustace, for example, the sort of nightliving chappies who would have been remiss to be asleep by three in the morning, or even myself in my younger days, well, then it would have been different, but I knew for a fact - or rather thought I knew - that there wasn’t anyone aside from me and Jeeves in that flat and if anyone had come bursting in at some ungodly hour in the night, they at least ought have had the decency to keep their voices down, or I had every right to tell them what was what.

I stumbled into my slippers and crept out of the bedroom intent on doing just that. I could hear them speaking, though I couldn’t quite make out the words. I thought I heard Jeeves among them, and two higher voices, and it didn’t sound like they were politely but firmly being shown to the door. It didn’t matter to me what secret meetings Jeeves held in the middle of the night, but if he thought I was going to let them keep me from getting my good twelve hours of the dreamless, he had another thing coming.

I burst into the room with all the ire of a fellow who had been rudely jolted from slumber and was quite keen on getting back to it. There, I found Jeeves face to face with a pair of masked chappies. They looked like they could have been out on their way back from any fashionable to do, except for the thick black masks pulled over their faces that gave them a rather more ruffian-like appearance.

“Sir,” Jeeves said, his voice clipped as though he had some dispute with my taste in sleepwear, which would have been quite absurd as he had suggested it himself.

“What’s the meaning of all this?” I demanded, quite reasonably so.

“I am afraid we have burglars, sir,” Jeeves replied, very much in the way he would have said that we had mice.

“Oh!” One read about burglars of course, but it wasn’t exactly the sort of thing a fellow expected to happen to himself, but I supposed that was that. “I’ll hold them while you step out and call the police, what?”

“Sir, perhaps it would be best if I kept an eye on them while you went to call the police.”

“Oh, very well.”

I was about to get to it when the smaller of the burglars shouted from a foot or so behind his companion, “Wait! We’re J’s cousins!”

I stopped in my tracks and turned to Jeeves. “Are they really?”

He looked none too happy with this revelation of his connection to such persons.

“Well, Raffles and I are old school chums,” the burglar attempted, sounding uncertain about the whole thing, “but J’s our cousin!”

Finally, with all eyes on him, Jeeves relented. “In a manner of speaking, sir.”

“Then this is just some childish prank?” I asked - that was a much more likely thing to happen to a chap than a burglary, after all.

“Exactly,” the taller of the burglars exclaimed, pulling off his mask and stepping forward with an outstretched hand. “I’m afraid things got a little out of hand.” 

I accepted it, though my eyes were still on Jeeves, looking at him in something of a new light. “I wouldn’t have expected it of you, Jeeves.”

“No, sir. I would not condone such behavior.” He gave the man in front of me a severe look.

I followed Jeeves’s gaze and found to my surprise that I recognized the fellow and it was easy enough to put a name to the face. “Why, you’re A.J. Raffles! Jeeves, I had no idea you’re related to one of the best cricketers in England!”

“No, sir,” Jeeves said with some disdain.

But I was not to be discouraged. “What ho! I’m a great fan! Your latest inning was just the stuff! I’m Bertam Wooster, by the way, but my pals call me Bertie.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Raffles said with a thin, crooked smile. He waved his smaller companion forward. “This is Bunny Manders, as he says, an old school friend of mine.”

Bunny held out a hand and only belatedly remembered to pull off his own mask, revealing a friendly, youthful face. “Nice to meet you.”

“What ho!” I exclaimed again, giving his hand a solid shake.

Raffles eyed the exchange. “You’ve found your own Bunny?” he remarked to Jeeves, sounding incredulous.

I couldn’t very well see what he meant; I didn’t see much in common between myself and Jeeves’s nervous young cousin.

Jeeves seemed to be thinking along the same lines because he stood a little taller and replied, “Mr. Wooster is my employer.”

“Of course,” said Raffles sardonically. “Just a mercenary arrangement.”

“Now, just a minute there!” I protested. “I haven’t known him for very long, but I’ll have you know that my man Jeeves is the very embodiment of the feudal spirit!”

Raffles turned his sharp, cold grey eyes on me as though he had entirely forgotten that I was there. I vividly remember for an instant feeling absolutely certain that his gaze could bore straight into a man’s very soul. And then it was gone, replaced by a benign smile, and I was left to chalk it all up to the rummy circs. of our little late night gathering playing tricks on my sleep-addled mind.

“I had no intention of implying otherwise,” Raffles said. “It’s always a pleasure to meet a fellow sporting man. But I’m afraid Bunny and I must be going; we wouldn’t want to intrude on your hospitality any longer, especially not at such a late hour.”

Before I had a chance to insist that it wasn’t any inconvenience to me, Jeeves cut in, “Shall I show Mr. Raffles and Mr. Manders to the door?”

It was only then that I abruptly remembered that it was still the middle of the night and I did have quite a bit of sleep to catch up on. “Right you are, Jeeves,” I said, fighting back a yawn. “Pleasure to meet the both of you.”

I followed them to the door as Jeeves showed Raffles and Manders out.

“We should do this again sometime,” I said, “just make it a touch earlier - or rather later.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind,” Raffles said, stepping out into the hall.

“Yes, thank you!” Manders added as he followed hastily after.

Jeeves shut the door behind them, leaving the flat empty, dark and silent.

I yawned again, this time not bothering to stifle it. Heavy sleep began to weigh upon my tired eyelids. “G’night, then Jeeves. And no more midnight reunions, what?”

“Certainly, sir. Goodnight, sir.” Jeeves saw that I was comfortable back in bed and then rippled off into the night.

Part of The Mysterious Mr. Jeeves

[radvee92]

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[shadowofthelamp]

White Wolf

So, a switcheroo of the vamp Ryou and wolf TKB here! This time their first meeting. Like this fic? I have kofi commissions for fics open!

Summary: Bakura’s hunting in the woods when a white wolf pins him down, and he decides he wants to see what the wolf turns into come sunrise...

Ao3 link

Wordcount: 1160

Ship: Gemshipping/Tendershipping (he’s got the TKB body, at least)

Warnings: Animal death (very short, like a sentence)

Bakura was hunting for something to tame his thirst when the back of his head met quite suddenly with the dirt. Something heavy rested on his chest, and it took a few moments to realize what it was. Atop him was a snarling wolf with white fur, drool dripping from huge razor-sharp teeth. It was massive, even for a wolf- it was twice Bakura’s size, and parts of the fur were matted with dirt and blood.

It was fascinating- he wanted to taste it. Bakura dug into its fur before suddenly lunging up and sinking his teeth into it. It swapped fiercely at him, trying to bite back, but after a mere few gulps Bakura knew something was wrong. The wolf was tainted, not only with magic but with human blood. He curled his fingers dug into the fur with one hand, before hitting it over the head with the other until it passed out.

“Let’s see what the hell your deal is.” He picked the creature up, pulling out a bandanna from his pocket to press against the bite wound until the blood dried the fabric to the fur, keeping it there. It was messy, but it would do for now. Bakura took one last look around before running towards a cabin he’d seen a few miles back that would be good enough base until the wolf could tell him what was going on.

__________

Five hours later, Ryou woke up with a splitting headache but surprisingly warm. He could feel the fur trailing up the bottom of his belly against the blanket draped over him and snuggled into it, before realizing he was entirely naked besides it- and he almost never made it back home after full moons. He bolted up, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders like it was a cape and a shield in one, and his ears twitched as he heard a scoff.

“Relax, I put the blanket over you when you were still a wolf. I didn’t see anything I wouldn’t see on the nature channel.”

Ryou turned to see a man with scruffy light gray hair tied back in a ponytail. A thick scar ran under his left eye, and a few drops of blood stained his chin. “You… saw me?”

“I carried you over here, so yes, I saw you.”

“...Why?”

The man flashed a grin, revealing fangs. “We freaks have to stick together, right? Besides, I haven’t seen a wolf like you in ages. You’d have a pretty coat if it hadn’t been so filthy.”

Ryou flushed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s not like I don’t bathe as a human, the wolf just likes getting messy…”

The man’s laugh was more like a cackle, but Ryou hadn’t seen many other people in months, and in a way, it was endearing.

“Of course! Although I must admit, trying to pin a man on the first date? So forward.”

“Oh, hush!” Ryou’s cheeks were cherry by now. “Don’t be rude about something I can’t control! Clearly you know how we work, so don’t tease. I was probably hungry.” As if on cue, his stomach growled. “Okay, I was definitely hungry.”

“I’d offer you breakfast, but all I had was a particularly fat rabbit, and you probably wouldn’t enjoy that right now.” The man picked his teeth with a fingernail, and Ryou sighed.

“I would have an hour ago.” He looked around. “Where are we?”

“Just some cabin. Looked pretty abandoned. There might be something in the cabinets?” He stood up, heading over to the kitchen and starting to make noise as he started opening and closing the doors. Ryou winced as they creaked, but a plastic wrapper hit him in the nose before falling into his hands. He looked down to see what looked like a twinkie.

“Those are supposed to last forever, right?”

Ryou tentatively squeezed it, and it felt stale. “In theory.”

“Well, other than some definitely-disgusting syrup and a family of mice, it’s about all that’s in here.”

Ryou tore the wrapper with his teeth, taking a bite. It was probably way past being good and was definitely too hard, but it was food, and that was good enough. “Thank you. Can I ask your name?”

Before he got an answer, he got a flannel shirt chucked at him. “It’s Bakura. I’d imagine you don’t want to walk around in a blanket all day, and that was draped over the chair.”

Ryou finished his twinkie, waiting for Bakura to turn around before letting the blanket drop and pulling the flannel over his head, finding it at went a bit less than halfway down to his knees. He could feel the fabric brushing the skin of his stomach and sides, and tied the blanket around his waist. He watched as Bakura poked at the fire in the fireplace. “Don’t vampires usually sleep during the day?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want you to slip through my fingers. Being immortal is boring sometimes, and I was curious what you usually looked like.” Another poke and sparks curled up like dancers.

“Well, was I worth it? The wolfier parts will fade over the next week until the next full moon.” Ryou settled down on his knees.

“Mm. Don’t go fishing for compliments.”

“Hmmph.” Ryou scanned Bakura up and down. “I’ve never seen a vampire in a hoodie before.”

“It’s comfortable. Have you ever even seen a vampire at all before?”

“Okay, you got me there,” Ryou admitted. “So. Normally, I try to get home after full moons.”

“Where do you live?”

“Around,” Ryou said.

“Do you live out here in the woods? How do you make a living?”

“I make little wooden figures and art to sell online,” Ryou said. “As long as I make sure I’m far from the house when I shift, I don’t destroy my supplies anymore. It’s easier to be out here, less risk of collateral damage to other people… or my stuff. I was turned on a camping trip, and it feels more natural to be out here now.”

“Fair enough.” Bakura poked the fire again, and Ryou’s stomach growled once more.

“Ugh, usually after hunts I’m too full, not hungry like this…”

“I knocked you out.” Bakura pointed out. “You probably didn’t fill up before trying to take a bite out of me.”

“Probably.” Ryou sighed, before looking up as Bakura stood up, grabbing a cast-iron pot and filling it with water before putting it over the fire. Ryou watched as the man headed outside, and returned a few minutes later with a decently-sized rabbit.

“Looks like papa didn’t run when I ate momma bunny.” He bit into the neck and twisted it, quickly killing the animal before dropping it into the pot. “It’s gonna taste like a pretty crappy stew with just boiled rabbit, but it’s better than nothing.”

Ryou stared at him. “Thank you.”

“Hey, I didn’t want to hear you complaining, that’s it.”

Ryou smiled, hugging the warm flannel to himself. “Sure.”