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hapan-in-exile · 8 months ago

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Volume 4 - Post #4: Say goodbye to the old me

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

GIF by dindooku

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem! Reader

Total word count: 5.6K (fourth post in Volume 4)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, +18 *NSFW*

_______________________________

IV. “Hey! Watch it! I–oh…I, um…” the Trandoshan’s words died on his lips the moment he looked up to discover who he’d bumped into.

The Mandalorian hated working on Coruscant. It was noisy, crowded, and endlessly labyrinthian. Most of the filters in his helmet were rendered useless due to the sheer number of life forms in such close proximity. Continuous vehicle traffic across every level of the city overloaded his motion sensors.

The frenetic energy of the megalopolis set him on edge.

But what Mando really hated, what he absolutely loathed, was visiting the Uscru District. It was all the worst parts about a place like Daiyu—gambling dens, night clubs, garish neon lights, vendors shouting, the flashing, stochastic holograms—made somehow worse because it was repacked for gawking tourists.

Acrobats hung from cables crisscrossing overhead, their lithe bodies shimmering, while street musicians played for coins. Instrument cases littered the walkway, and goods were hawked on the pavement.

He felt uncentered. The next idiot who tripped over him to stare slack-jawed at some fucking juggler was getting bodied.

Luckily, it didn’t come to that. Mando couldn’t afford the delay.

The Mandalorian turned onto Daring Way, toward the sky bridge that would take him to the Floating World. Tourists liked to keep to well-lit thoroughfares, so the foot traffic here was sparser, and he made better time. Soon, the soft, glowing lights of the pleasure quarter came into view.

Music spilled out from decadent parlors where the doors and windows had been flung open to lure passersby. Beings of every gender and species could be seen lounging, sprawled out on display, wearing little more than scraps of fabric and gaudy jewels.

Each house catered to a different clientele, their specialty made known by the facade of the building or else the costumes worn by hosts welcoming their clients inside.

Most tourists never entered the brothels of the Floating World. They just came to take in the scene and watch the crowd, which was a sight in itself. Amongst the extravagant fashions and decor of the houses, many visitors donned elaborate masks or robes to conceal their identities.

So the Mandalorian was surprised to discover that the Dark Garden had no hosts waiting in the doorway and nothing on display in the windows. Instead, they were closed, sealed tight behind intricately carved black shutters.

The whole building was black. Its gleaming stone exterior looked more like a palatial mansion than a pleasure house.

The woman stationed behind the desk in the entryway was also dressed in black. It was a stark contrast to her pale pink skin, white-blond hair, and nearly colorless gray eyes. She looked up at him from between two onyx vases overflowing with vibrant red blossoms that matched her painted lips.

“Welcome, sir. We appreciate your business. Do you have an appointment?”

“No, I’m not in need of your…services. I’ve come to see Mistress Anassa. She’ll know why I’m here.”

“Mistress Anassa is very busy,” she smiled apologetically. “Her clients book months in advance. I cannot promise she will have time to—”

He slid several gold peggats across the highly polished surface of the reception desk.

“Tell her a Mandalorian is waiting. I’ll be here until she finds the time.”

“Very well, sir. Please come with me.”

She led him through a dark passage to a lounge filled with curved sofas and circular ottomans, where clients–some wearing masks, others with their faces bared–sat huddled in conversation, drinking from elegant carafes or smoking ornate water pipes.

The hostess directed him to an alcove beneath a cluster of illuminated, floating orbs.

“Can I offer the Mandalorian anything while he waits? Company, perhaps?” She lowered her voice as she leaned in to place a pillow behind his back. “We cater to every desire here.”

“My desire,” he said evenly, “is for solitude.”

“As you like,” she smiled again, leaving him to wait for Mistress Anassa.

But he was conspicuous sitting alone, and it wasn’t long before another hostess dressed in black strode toward him. She walked over on towering heels he imagined Thuli would have loved to see if the Mandalorian needed attention.

She artfully placed one of the gilt carafes onto the lacquered table beside him and poured a drink. “May I offer the gentleman anything else?”

Her voice was as supple as her corsetted leather dress.

“No. Thank you, I–”

The sight of two luminous violet eyes caught him by surprise, and his heart stuttered. He turned sharply to see a woman entering the parlor. On second glance, she looked nothing like Thulindhara. But the eyes were unmistakable—their iridescent sheen, how they glowed bright like full moons. She was Hapan.

“Perhaps the Mandalorian sees something to his liking?”

It wasn’t her, yet the thrill that rose inside him didn’t ebb. It clutched the breath from his lungs and twisted his stomach into knots.

Mando knew he would miss her, but he hadn’t expected to feel her absence as a physical pain.

“No,” he said. “Thank you. But, no. I’m here to see Mistress Anassa.”

He watched as the woman who wasn’t Thuli walked up to a Keshiri couple at the bar, gesturing them to follow her down a long corridor hidden behind a pair of lush velvet curtains.

Beside him, the hostess offered the drink she’d poured, and he accepted it. Not for the sake of politeness but because he felt compelled to hold something in his hands. Sensing his discomposure, she looked meaningfully towards the curtains as they fell back into place and whispered, “They say to lie with a Hapan is to open the doorway to heaven.”

The Mandalorian had heard that said many times and always dismissed it as a self-serving rumor. He didn’t pay for sex, but mercenaries loved to talk about how they would spend their take on Hapan courtesans. The most expensive pussy in the galaxy, they said. Once you’re between her thighs, you’ll forget your own name.

Now, Mando understood the truth of these stories. Well…he hadn’t forgotten his name, but she did taste like heaven.

For most of his life, sex had been about release. Lust was simply another physical need. Like hunger or sleep, he met those needs for the sake of his body. When a woman felt so inclined, he obliged—helmet sealed, armor intact—to let her take what satisfaction she could find.

With Thuli, he learned that sex could be something beyond physical pleasure. They shared a connection unlike anything he’d experienced. Real intimacy. Mando hadn’t kissed a woman since…he’d barely been a man. Still a child, really.

To be with Thulani, naked and vulnerable as he had never been before, was not about release. It was fulfillment. Satisfaction of body and soul. And, yes, part of that was being between her thighs.

In the abstract, he’d been a little intimidated, but in the moment, it had felt entirely natural. He wanted to linger over her every curve, to put his mouth over every inch of her body, and he had loved all of it—the way she tasted, her fingers tugging at his hair, how her hips lifted with his touch.

It made him feel powerful in a way he hadn’t expected, drinking her in until she was soaked and breathless under his tongue.

Then, a door had opened—a door between their consciousness, when he’d felt her pleasure cresting through his body, rippling over his skin in waves that matched the stroking of his fingers. She’d lost all control, and his whole being was suffused with her ecstasy, so intensely passionate that he saw stars behind his eyes. Maybe it was heaven?

Thulani’s trick was making people believe in her openness, yet Mando recognized how rigidly she held herself in check. He sensed the wild, fierce nature in her heart that she constrained. It made him feel both immeasurably powerful and deeply gratified to be the one who made her unravel.

“The Mandalorian asked for me?”

A woman in a crisply tailored black suit stood before him. He did not immediately recognize her species, but the horns that spiraled around her long, folded ears and convex nose reminded him of a dray goat.

“You’re Mistress Anasssa? The proprietor of this…establishment.”

“Mmm, the Mandalorian is polite for a mercenary,” she sat beside him on the bench and reached out with slender fingers (no hooves) to take the glass from between his hands. It struck him at once how artfully the gesture was both sensual and dominating. “In answer to your question…” she drank deeply. “Yes. The gentleman would be wise not to let the crystal and chandeliers fool him. This is a dungeon. And I am its master.”

“I see.” It was all he could think to say. “Boss Set’ki said you’d be expecting me.”

“My apologies. I was otherwise occupied when the Mandalorian arrived.” She looked at the untouched carafe on the table. “I am sorry my vintage is not to his taste. And none of my ladies, either, I hear. If it is males he prefers, the gentleman need only—”

“That is beyond my purpose, Mistress Anassa. I’m here on business.”

“I doubt the Mandalorian would burden himself with such formality if he intended to capture me,” the mistress smiled curiously. “What is his business?”

“I’m interested in one of your clients.”

She scoffed. “The gentleman must realize discretion is an essential tenet of my profession. Why would I betray my client to help him?”

“Because Set’ki owes me a debt. And while you may be the master of this dungeon, your master is Boss Set’ki.”

Her features became resolute. “Then let us discuss this matter in private.”

The Mistress rose and walked toward the velvet curtains. Mando followed her down the long corridor until she stopped before a door with gold flowers embossed along its hinges.

She placed a tasseled fob against the keypad. “I hope the Mandalorian will appreciate that it is to everyone’s benefit if he appears to be another of my clients?”

“Very well,” he said and stepped inside.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected. The black walls did not surprise him, but the abundance of those same red flowers, blooming from vases and wall hangings did. They matched the illuminated floor tiles that pulsed with crimson light.

Otherwise, the room was sparsely furnished to accommodate the…equipment. There was a saltire cross with a rack of whips and paddles positioned beside it and a polished steel beam with manacles chained to its post. A length of rope dangled from one of the ceiling beams overhead. Instead of a bed, a quilted leather couch sat in a far corner of the room.

Plastered across one of the walls was a diagram of knots with cautionary notes about circulation and nerve damage.

“I’m sure the Mandalorian must be very accomplished at tying knots,” Mistress Anassa said from over his shoulder.

“I prefer cuffs.”

“Mmm…” He felt her eyes rake over him with heightened interest. “I have never met a Mandalorian before, but I begin to see why you inspire so much fascination. The armor, the brute force, stalking, capture, imprisonment—all potent themes for bondage role play.”

“I am Mandalorian. Violence is my trade. Weapons are part of my religion.” Mando turned to face her. “I’m not playing a game, Mistress.”

He could tell Anassa enjoyed hearing him call her that.

“Of course. Though I’m sure someone has offered to suck your cock in exchange for their freedom. Can you honestly say their begging has never aroused you?”

Her tone was frank, not seductive. A businesswoman appraising a commodity.

“I think the Mistress has a false impression about the sorts of people I’m sent to collect.”

At that, she laughed. “Still…I see the appeal. If you’re ever interested in a new line of work, I believe the Mandalorian and I could make a great deal of money together.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mando recalled that Thulani had said much the same thing. A Mandalorian would make good coin at one of those Keyorin brothels.

He suddenly wondered if this was something Thuli might enjoy. Bondage? Role play? The clamps and paddles didn’t exactly appeal to him, but he wouldn’t be opposed to tying her up if that’s what she wanted.

Mando looked at the steel beam, and his mind couldn’t help but stray towards fantasies of throwing her over it and fucking her senseless.

“About your client, Mistress Anassa.”

“What is it you wish to know?”

“This man, Ronan Carr,” he said, taking the holo-puck from his pocket and activating its profile. "I’m told he makes use of your services when his wife is out of town.”

Mistress Anassa schooled her features, but it was too late. He’d seen the look of panic cross her eyes the instant she recognized the man’s face.

“The Senator will be leaving on a diplomatic mission. Does Carr have an appointment scheduled for her departure?”

The Mandalorian suspected that Ronan Carr had an appointment booked for later that day. He’d been following Carr for the past week. Yesterday, the man had reserved an entire hotel floor under a false name and given his personal assistant the night off.

“He does,” the Mistress confirmed. “But I won’t help you. Boss Set’ki may kill me for my refusal. I will accept that punishment. A political assassination would condemn every soul under my care. That I will not accept.”

“I have no intention of killing Ronan Carr,” he assured her. “It’s information I want.”

“I suppose that is his trade,” her eyes weighed the Mandalorian, and she dropped the artful persona. “You won’t harm him? No kidnapping or torture?”

“If those are your terms, then I will agree. I only want to talk to him.”

“What if I have other terms?” The Mistress asked shrewdly.

“Name them.”

“I don’t want any of my people harmed.”

He nodded. “Do you know who you’ll send?”

“Yes, there are a few he favors.”

“Then give me some token or signal. But tell no one of this.”

She paused before coming to a decision. “I will go with them tonight. To ensure all will be as you promise.”

“These are your terms?”

“He’s a good client,” she waved her well-manicured hand vaguely, “And if word got out? If he thought I’d helped you?”

“Ronan Carr won’t risk the Senator discovering his…hobbies.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“Here,” he pulled out a folded wallet and handed it to her. “To compensate for your loss of business. Though I expect a man with his proclivities should be back before long.”

“Thank you,” she gave him a curt bow. “You know where to find him?”

“Carr has gone to great lengths to conceal his plans, but yes, I know where he’ll be tonight.” And without really intending to, the Mandalorian said, “His desires make him weak.”

Mando was surprised at the scorn in his voice. Surprised to hear himself say that. Did he believe desire made him weak? His desire for Thuli?

It certainly made it difficult to concentrate. How many times did he think about her each day?

Maker, if he was being honest…he woke up thinking about Thulani, and the thought seemed to last all day. He worried about whether she was safe. He’d make some stray observation and imagine her reaction. He saw something beautiful in a window and wondered if she would like it.

When he lay inside the sleeping compartment alone, surrounded by her scent, he thought of Thuli’s mouth on him, those delicate fingers stroking his cock, and his body ached. He could not bring himself off without thinking about her.

Mistress Anassa looked at him with genuine sympathy as though she could sense his turmoil.

“Shame is Ronan Carr’s weakness,” she said. “If he were honest about his desires, you would have no power over him. His wife might even oblige. But shame feeds arousal. Maybe you can understand that?”

“Excuse me?”

Shame. Was that at the root of his sudden anger? The Mandalorian was not ashamed of his relationship with Thuli. He did not believe she made him weak.

But he did feel shame about his own selfish cowardice. That in her absence, he’d realized how deeply he cared for her, and it killed him knowing he could never say those words.

Why? Because they gave her power over him? No. Whether he said the words or not, didn’t change his feelings. But to say them aloud would be a promise. One he couldn’t make.

She’d met him on those terms, yet he felt ashamed he couldn’t give her more. She deserved better than a man who could not share his name or his face or his life with her. It would always come back to that.

“Shame is one of the most effective tools of repression,” Mistress Anassa shrugged. “But repression simply fuels temptation. Temptation transforms into desire. Desire generates more shame.”

Anassa opened a hidden panel in the wall and beckoned him forward. Lightly placing her fingers over a wooden slat, she slid it open, and a pinhole of light pierced through the room. The muffled sounds of moaning grew louder.

Gesturing toward the peephole, she said, “It’s only when we embrace our desires that we become free of this endless cycle.”

Curiosity getting the better of him, the Mandalorian looked. What he saw was the Keshiri couple from the parlor. The man was fully clothed, on all fours, his hands and knees braced against the ground. His partner was naked, splayed on his back, while the Hapan woman fucked her roughly with a strap-on.

“They were honest with each other about their desires. Now, it creates a bond rather than a wedge.”

Mando hadn’t anticipated that visiting a sex dungeon would prompt so much soul-searching. His eyes strayed back to the peephole, towards the Keshiri in the throws of climax, eyes shut tight as though she might die from ecstasy.

While he felt ashamed that he could not tell Thulani he loved her, he could at least ensure she felt loved. When he worshipped her body, when he fulfilled her desires, when he made her unravel—she would know the depth of his feelings.

“I’ve heard it said that true Mandalorians do not remove their armor. Perhaps the gentleman prefers to watch?”

He pulled the slot closed. “I’ve seen enough.”

**********

One thing the Mandalorian did appreciate about Coruscant was the simplicity of bribing government officials. As with any vast bureaucracy, front-line New Republic workers like the port operatives were overlooked and underpaid.

Flush with cash from Ryun Vos, Mando was able to dock under fake tabs at a shipyard centrally located in a safe and discreet area. Money made all things possible on Coruscant.

“Please tell me something in that bag is fried?” Nito moaned as the Mandalorian stepped inside the Razor Crest.

“I got some of everything, so your odds are good.”

The Ardennian was sitting at a makeshift table of stacked cargo containers with the Child seated in his lap. He had his mechanic’s apron on while the kid was stripped to his breechcloth. And they were both covered in paint.

“There better be a bath planned for after this,” Mando growled, reaching to wipe the Child’s talons clean with a take-out napkin.

“What? Yeah. Sorry,” Nito said dimly. “Yes! Oil bread. And rice balls! Fuck yeah!”

The Mandalorian thought vaguely that Thulani would try to curb Nito’s swearing, but he only had so much paternal energy left in him today, and he needed it for the baby.

Mando pulled the fried bread out of reach and replaced it with the box of bean pods. “Hey, kid, you need to eat at least five of these.”

His enormous ears wilted in disappointment.

“How’s the programming going?” Mando asked, searching for the sweet and sour broth.

Nito shoved a rice ball in his mouth and swallowed it whole. “Do you have any idea how complex a unified operating system for an industrial plant—with residential facilities can be?”

“No,” he admitted. “That’s why I’m paying you.”

“Paying me in more than dumplings, I hope.” Nito laughed cheerily. “Assuming it’s the Imperial coding language, I think it is…”

“We’re going to find out tonight.”

“You got Carr?”

“I know how to get to him,” Mando said. “We leave in three hours. Spend at least one of those cleaning up the kid.”

“Okay. Okay.”

The Mandalorian was relieved to have such a tidy solution for Ronan Carr. It wasn’t in his nature to wait for reconnaissance or planning. He was a blunt instrument—brute force, as Mistress Anassa had said. But Nito proved that hacking the man’s communicator could be useful. Coruscant was not the Outer Rim. Best to be cautious here.

Months ago, he would have stormed the hotel, shoved a blaster in Carr’s face, and broken the man’s fingers until he talked. Now, when Mando considered this approach, the crew from Dark Garden weighed on his conscience. Not everything needs to end in a shoot-out, Thuli had chided him. She wasn’t even here, yet her memory was wringing these little bits of decency from him.

Nito snapped his fingers in front of Mando’s viewplate. “You in there?”

“What?” He shook his head.

“You’ve been staring at those dumplings for an eternity. I want to eat them.”

Mando passed the container.

“I was telling you about this utter stroke of genius I had.” The Ardennian lifted the kid onto the table and pulled something out from his apron pocket. “So, he’s green, right? Well, I painted his face. And when I put on the bonnet…See! He’s Mirialan.”

Underneath the paint splatters, Mando recognized the geometric facial markings.

“That’s–sure, that is pretty genius.”

Nito beamed. Thuli told him things would be easier with the kids if he put in a little effort. So far, it was working.

“I mean, he hates having his ears tucked, but it’s only temporary, buddy. Just to keep you safe.”

The Child squirmed and pounded his fists against his thighs.

Mando had to suppress a laugh. “Bean pods and bonnets. Guess you got it pretty rough, kid.”

The baby stopped mid-tantrum to glare at the Mandalorian.

“Anyway,” Nito went on. “We had the paint out, so I found some packing paper…and look what he made.”

Mando tilted his head and squinted, “It’s a…bantha?”

“It’s the Razor Crest,” Nito snorted.

“If you say so.”

The kid squealed until Mando handed him a meat pie.

“I miss her too, you know.”

“What?”

“Fish dumplings are Thuli’s favorite,” Nito said quietly. “It’s hard not to miss her when she makes everything so…” he shrugged, “cozy when she’s around.”

The Mandalorian nodded. “You heard from her today?”

His heart twisted painfully in anticipation. It did every day when he asked that question. But he knew she must have checked in that morning. Nito would be inconsolable if she hadn’t.

“Yeah, I got the signal.”

Good. She's alive. Hopefully safe. “We’ll see her soon,” Mando assured them. “We’re stocked up on supplies, weapons, equipment. Once we get what we need from Carr, we can make a course for Lakaran.”

“Did you get a gift to bring her now that you guys are, you know, sleeping together?”

The Mandalorian choked on his soup. The steel jaw of his helmet caught him painfully on the lip, and he had to pound his chest a few times before he could breathe again. “Did she–ahem–did she say something…about…?”

“Didn’t have to,” Nito waved a furry hand. “For months, you’ve both just wreaked of longing and frustration. Then you came back and smelled…satisfied. Pretty logical conclusion.”

“You can smell that?”

“Oh yeah! It’s kind of funny that humans can’t since all of your emotions get communicated through hormones and sweat glands.”

Mando shook his head again. “I’m not entirely comfortable talking about this,” he sighed. “But while we’re on the subject, there are some…things I should…we should probably…discuss before we leave to find Carr.”

“What? Like, sex stuff?”

The Mandalorian groaned. Where do I even start…?

**********

The hotel Ronan Carr had booked was elegant enough for his aristocratic tastes while also offering the assurance of privacy. There was a separate entrance and elevator for the penthouse floor so he could avoid bumping into anyone from his social circle—or his wife’s senatorial colleagues—in the lobby.

Mando opted to gain entry from the roof.

“You hear something?” One of the bodyguards asked.

But just as their partner began to answer, the Mandalorian slipped behind him and placed a blade to the man’s throat. In an instant, he had grabbed the guard’s wrist and raised his blaster. Mando shot the other bodyguard before they could cry out in warning.

To stage this right, the knife needed to go in at just the right angle. But the man continued to struggle under Mando’s grip, trying to break free from his hold. The guard tried everything—stomping on the Mandalorian’s foot, slamming his head against the Beskar, thrusting his shoulders against Mando’s arm around his neck.

The bounty hunter might as well be a statue for all the give there was in his frame. The guard’s death was inevitable, but he refused to make peace with it.

Mando hooked his leg around the man’s ankle and sent them both hurtling toward the ground. The force of impact drove the knife into the guard’s throat.

A wet splatter hit his view plate when the man coughed blood onto the Mandalorian’s helmet. Yet he still fought. Hands flailed blindly until Mando drove the blade deeper, severing the spinal cord. And finally, the fingers clawing at his wrists fell limp.

He rolled the bodyguard onto his back and returned the blaster to the man’s right hand. Should be enough to cover my tracks.

Mistress Anassa had left the south-facing balcony doors unlocked, just as he instructed. They slid open with a soft rolling hush before he made his way silently through the suite. She was waiting for him in the study, hunched over a display monitor.

“You look a sight,” she arched an eyebrow at him. “Can I get you a towel?”

“No.” The blood was war paint. It would make what came next that much easier. "I staged the guards. You can claim a fight broke out, and you had to get your people to safety."

Anassa cleared her throat and nodded. It was the first time he’d seen her unsettled. “The false name on the hotel reservation avoids a paper trail, but I can’t decide whether Carr realizes Set’ki is tracking all of this.”

“Do you record him every time?”

She glared at Mando. “No, but I had a feeling my master wanted some insurance. I don’t expect Ronan Carr will be making any future appointments with Dark Garden after tonight.”

Involving Set’ki and Anassa—at all—was an unnecessary risk. The Mandalorian had done it to ensure the safety of her employees, and he didn’t feel any remorse about the Mistress’s bottom line.

“Tell them to leave the room.”

She crossed her arms with a frustrated sigh. “I know I don’t have a say in any of this, but it shouldn’t go unspoken, this is a gross violation of my professional ethics.”

“You’re arguing ethics after admitting to blackmail?”

“Those restraints are intended to aid his submission. He needs to feel safe to surrender control. And instead, you’ve co-opted them for violence.”

Mando huffed. “Are you referring to the silk scarves tied around his wrists and ankles?”

“The type of restraints are irrelevant. Bondage is a kink that depends on trust. It’s a choice to be helpless. Consent is based entirely on trust. This is a violation of trust. I feel the weight of what this will do to his psyche, and I ask you to acknowledge that before you step inside that room.”

The Mandalorian couldn’t fathom why she was looking to him to absolve her guilt.

“And I told you, violence is my profession. Get—your people—out.”

From the display screen, Mando watched as the Mistress entered the bedroom. Her sudden presence startled the other women, but she quickly ushered them into the hallway and closed the door behind her.

When he was confident they were gone, the bounty hunter opened the bedroom door. The first thing he did was drape a towel over Set’ki’s camera. Mando didn’t want any record of his presence on Coruscant.

He approached the chair Carr was bound to without bothering to stifle his footsteps. The man had a sensory deprivation mask covering his eyes and ears. He hadn’t sensed the ladies from Dark Garden leave the room, and he was becoming agitated, sitting in a puddle of urine, confused as to why they didn’t end the session.

Ronan Carr paid to be tied down and tickled until he pissed himself. The kink wasn’t inherently sexual. It didn’t make him hard. He didn’t come, and nobody brought him to completion. The tickling made him laugh and his muscles spasm, and eventually, the stress on his pelvic floor emptied his bladder.

Then, he slept for ten hours. It simply…relaxed the man.

“Whoa!” Nito said when the Mandalorian explained this. “So it’s like getting a massage? But, like, a really extreme massage.”

It wasn’t not sexual…he paid to be tickled by beautiful women, after all.

As he ripped the mask off, Mando tried not to think about Anassa’s sanctimonious pleading. He felt no remorse for Ronan Carr, either.

The bounty hunter unholstered his blaster and pointed it in the man’s face so it was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes. On cue, Carr jumped, recoiling in terror at the sight of the Mandalorian.

“Don’t cry for help," Mando said, his voice cold and stern. "You don’t want anyone coming through that door to find you like this, do you?”

Ronan Carr shook his head.

“Good. Do what I say, and I won’t have to hurt you,” he growled. “Tell me you understand.”

Ronan Carr took a deep, steadying breath. “I understand.” The man’s voice quavered, but he didn’t panic. Some people became paralyzed with fear, which made interrogation that much harder. If Carr could keep it together, this would be over quickly.

“Untie yourself.”

Despite Mistress Anassa’s speech about trust and surrender, her words were meaningless sentiment. Ronan Carr had never given up control. The scarves were tied with enough slack that he could easily lift his hands over the headrest and pull free the knots at his wrists. After that, he only needed to lean forward to release his ankles.

“Where is everyone?” Carr asked nervously, massaging his wrists.

The man was wiry, more muscular than the bounty hunter expected from someone who spent his life behind a desk. Intimidation was his best tactic to keep Carr in check. Use of physical force would only complicate things. And he made a deal with Anassa.

“You don’t need to know what I did with them. Worry about yourself.”

After a lifetime of doing this work, Mando knew most people’s imagination was far darker than any threat he could make. The man looked at the blood splattered across his helmet, and all the color drained from Ronan Carr’s face.

“What is it you want?”

“I need something, and you’re the person who can get it for me.”

“My wife—”

“This has nothing to do with the Senator. And it doesn’t have to. You give me what I want, and she won’t discover what you get up to under the name ‘Kirk Satu.’” Carr’s eyes went wide with horror. “The piss play makes for an awkward conversation, but I think all the bank transfers will be harder to explain.”

Now, he had the man’s full attention. “What do you want?”

“First, I want you to put some clothes on. Meet me in the study when you’re ready.”

The man’s suit hung neatly from the bathroom door, yet he stared at the garment like it might transform into a torture device.

“You’re not—you aren’t going to lock me in?”

“We both know you won’t run,” Mando said. “You’re going to do what I tell you. Then you can forget all about this.”

The look on Carr’s face when he walked into the study made it clear this encounter would haunt him for some time.

“Is your communicator on?” Nito asked from behind his data-pad. “Your real one. Not the burner?”

“What?” Ronan Carr stammered. “I–yes.” When the notification bell chimed, he pulled the device out from his pocket.

“Okay, read me the security code.”

“Wait! This is about work? You want something from the Archives?”

Carr looked between Nito and the Mandalorian.

“You do realize the New Republic Library doesn’t store any military or intelligence records. This is not…what could you possibly need that isn’t already publicly available?”

Mando thrust his blaster in the man’s face. “Ask me about my business again and see what happens to you.”

“The security code?” Nito drolled.

Mando grabbed the communicator from Carr and handed it to the Ardennian.

“I’m just…we have a records request system online…”

“For redacted documents!” Nito howled. “If you guys just uploaded everything onto the Net, you could enjoy your tickle party and we wouldn’t be here.”

Ronan Carr’s face turned scarlet. “It’s our responsibility to make sure sensitive information doesn’t fall into the hands of…criminals.”

What a fucking hypocrite. “Can we hurry this up?” Mando barked. The fact that the bodyguards in the foyer hadn’t burst into the penthouse meant that Mistress Anassa had done her part. But their luck wouldn’t last long.

“Well, it’s not my fault the file structure isn’t intuitive,” Nito looked at Ronan Carr with disgust. “And you call yourself an Archivist?”

“I–I don’t oversee information architecture.”

“Ah! Okay…security question for the download. What is the name of your first pet?”

When Nito had the files he needed, Mando thrust a disc into Carr’s hands.

“What—?”

“I lied when I said this didn’t involve your wife. That’s for her. From a former Rebel fighter, Ubaa Dir. Remember the name. The next time you hear it, give the Senator that disc. You’ll know when.”

“How will I explain—”

“You’d rather explain the sex workers and money laundering? Figure–it—out,” Mando snapped, and Ronan Carr jumped.

This time, the Mandalorian did lock him inside the bedroom.

He found Mistress Anassa in the living room, offering the Child sugar cubes from an abandoned tea service tray.

"I'm done here," Mando said, watching as the kid delightedly crunched the crystals between his teeth. "He's unharmed, as per the terms of our deal. Are you satisfied?"

"Very," she smiled serenely at him. "I thought I'd be spending the night cleaning brain matter off the walls. Instead, I got to play with an adorable baby."

Anassa lifted the Child from her hip and handed him back to the Mandalorian.

"You still want me to bind and gag you?" Mando asked. "I could just lock you inside, like I did with Carr? It might take him a while to break out, by the way."

"No," she shook her head. "I've got to sell this if there's a chance I can retain his trust. And he'll need a witness to help explain what happened to the guards." Mistress Anassa looked thoughtfully at the Mandalorian. "When life hands you an opportunity, it's best to seize it with both hands."

"Very well." Mando reached for the plush, decorative rope tying back the curtains—he could at least ensure that she was comfortable.

"Speaking of which," the Mistress grinned. "I do hope you'll reconsider my offer. There are a number of ways we could leverage your particular talents at the Dark Garden."

The Mandalorian offered her a chair.

"After listening to the ruthlessness in your voice saying, You're going to give me what I want..." she shivered rather theatrically. "Fear is a very potent form of arousal. I'm confident we could find clients looking for nothing more than degradation."

The audacity of her proposal impressed him, and his mouth quirked into a begrudging smile beneath the Beskar helmet.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said.

"And what knots do you plan to use?"

Mando huffed—not quite a laugh. This was beginning to feel like an audition. "A bowline. But I can use a hitch knot if you prefer?"

"Merely professional curiosity," Mistress Anassa grinned, sitting in the armchair as though it were a throne. "Do you have a suggestion for the gag?"

The Mandalorian cocked his head, "Give me your necktie."

He wasn't entirely comfortable with how much keen interest lit up her face. A businesswoman through and through.

She hurriedly fished something out of her suit pocket. "Take my card. You're a working father, after all. It pays to be flexible when there are mouths to feed."

****************

Continue reading: Volume 4-Post #5: Wish You Were Here!

Back to Volume 4 - all posts

#mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mando smut #sexy mando #sexymando #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #star wars smut

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luvhaos · 2 years ago

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skate and slip | kmg

pairing: kim mingyu x gn! reader genre: non-idol! au, established relationship, fluff, humor word count: 683 summary: in hindsight, maybe you and mingyu, the two clumsiest people in existence, shouldn’t have accepted the invitation to an ice skating outing.

You swear that you weren’t this clumsy before you started dating Mingyu. You’re pretty sure it just rubbed off on you. You also swear that you never used to be this bad at ice skating but you guess it has been over a decade since your parents last took you to a rink.

Mingyu has your hand in a death grip as you two shuffle awkwardly along the edge of the rink, Mingyu shouting, “Show offs!” as Minghao and Joshua whiz by the two of you. It makes you personally feel a little better when you see Seungkwan trip and fall at the other end of the ice rink, earning laughs from you and Mingyu, but that satisfaction doesn’t last long.

Mingyu stumbles himself and, because of his vice hold on your hand, drags you down with him. “Ouch!” you yelp as you land on him and you huff playfully, “Jeez, Gyu, take us all down, why don’t you?”

Mingyu scoffs, “Oh, please, you would have fallen eventually.”

“Would not.”

“Would so.”

“Would not.”

“Would so!”

“You’re both equally bad,” Wonwoo says, skating over to you.

Mingyu glares at his best friend as you grip the wall of the rink, pulling yourself up. Wonwoo, despite his taunting, helps you haul Mingyu up as well. You hold onto the wall and Mingyu leans against it. You watch as Wonwoo skates away, studying the motion of his legs and his stance. You push yourself off the wall and tentatively move away, gliding at a snail’s pace but at least you’re not actively falling down.

As you move farther away, Mingyu whines, “Where are you going? Don’t leave me here!”

“I think I’m getting the hang of it, babe,” you say and you move a few more inches forward.

“Woohoo!” Seokmin cheers as he slides past you, just a tad faster than you. “Go, Y/n!”

“I thought we were a team!” Mingyu calls from behind you.

You sigh in faux sadness and glance over your shoulder. “Sometimes, we need to leave people behind to move forward.”

You laugh at your boyfriend’s overdramatic cry and Vernon shouts, “Cold, Y/n, cold!”

You nearly tumble down again but you catch the wall in time, keeping yourself upright as you watch Mingyu gradually move himself off it. “Watch out,” he warns you, “I’m coming to get you!”

Wonwoo, who had taken two laps around the rink, settles beside you and mutters, “I highly doubt that.”

Mingyu skates a mere four inches before falling again. You and Wonwoo exchange glances and you say, “I don’t know if I’ll make it back to him without falling and I kind of like my high ground right now.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes good-naturedly and makes his way over to Mingyu on his own, once again helping him up. Mingyu pouts at you and you hold your arms out. “Come on, babe! You’ve got it!”

Mingyu clings to the wall as he shuffles towards you, one painstaking foot in front of the other. You’re barely managing to balance yourself waiting for him and as he draws closer to you, he makes a final push and flies towards you, crashing into you and sending you both down.

When the initial ache fades, you two stare at each before bursting into loud laughs. Mingyu leans down and kisses you, earning whoops and retching from your friends and you swear that Jihoon yells, “Get a room!”

The two of you struggle to your feet and you say, “I, sadly, don’t think we have careers in figure skating, Gyu.”

Mingyu hums in agreement, wrapping an arm around your waist and resting his head on top of yours. “I like where we’re at right now.”

“Wow,” Seungcheol says as he passes you two. “Way to make the rest of us feel single.”

“That’s right,” Mingyu says, puffing his chest out. “Be jealous of our love.” He pecks your temple and then your cheek and soon, he’s pressing sweet kisses all over your face, earning another round of cheering and gagging.

“I second Jihoon.” Chan says, “Get a room!”

#kim mingyu x reader #mingyu x reader #mingyu #kim mingyu #seventeen x reader #seventeen #seventeen mingyu #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #mingyu scenarios #mingyu imagines #seventeen fluff #mingyu fluff

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severusloveslily · 2 years ago

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potions & parchment || snamione AU

Severus stalked back into Hogwarts, a scowl on his face. He had just made the always lovely trek to the Ministry and had, yet again, been thwarted by the dunderheads that make up their government.

Since the Dark Lord’s downfall, he had spent a year or so recovering from his injuries. He was still trying to work out the odds of how the hell he’d managed to survive. Despite his best efforts, he was still alive, so he decided he ought to at least try and enjoy his freedom. Following his recovery, he dusted off many of his stalled research projects and had gone to work. Nearly a decade later, he was ready to present them to the Ministry.

However, he was hitting roadblocks at every bloody turn. Though he’d been awarded an Order of Merlin, First Class, they still didn’t particularly like ex-Death Eaters. He couldn’t say he blamed them, but it was frustrating. He didn’t want to be stuck teaching for the rest of his life. It was a means to an end at this point.

“Severus?”

The man stopped and turned to see his boss, Minerva McGonagall, approaching him. He waited for her to catch up, before he continued walking. “I’m not in the mood right now, Minerva.”

“How did the meeting go?” she asked. “Not well?”

“You astound me with your deduction skills,” he muttered. “I want to be alone.”

“Why did they turn you down?” she pressed, struggling to keep up with his long stride.

“You know why, Minerva,” Severus drawled. “In any case, I suppose I’ll just have to fund my projects personally. It will take much longer, but... one day, perhaps I’ll get there. Unless someone else beats me to it,” he muttered. He was trying to develop a serum to numb the effects of the Cruciatus curse. Though the Dark Lord was gone, his followers remained, and there were still people recovering from the war. It would also help Aurors on their mission.

He had also tweaked his Wolfsbane recipe and he found it was more effective than the one before. Though he wasn’t fond of Remus Lupin, it opened his eyes to the horribly lonely world of people stricken with lycanthropy. He was trying to help.

“You know,” McGonagall started, “Hermione will be here for her semi-annual visit next week. Why don’t you speak to her about it? That could be your way in. If you get the Minister for Magic on your side, they can’t say no. Right?”

Severus stopped walking and pondered that. He’d rather rip his hair out than ask a third of the Golden Trio for help, but he had his back against the wall at this point. “Perhaps,” he murmured. It wasn’t a bad idea, but she never really came to speak to him anyway. She hardly even observed him when she was here. He was glad she was taking such a proactive approach to the school, no other minister in his memory had done that. She was doing the world of good for their society, and fit the job to a tee. The country was better off with her at the helm.

#adultpara #potionsparchmentchapter1 #snamione

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fictionkinfessions · 4 months ago

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I miss Annabeth so much it physically pains me. She was one of my best friends, even after we broke up (we were not a good pair, easier to admit that now than it was in the past); I relied so much on her for… gods, nearly everything that sometimes I have to sit down and ask myself “what would she do? What advice would she give me?” and sometimes that… doesn’t make it better. I’ve been here for over a decade at this point and haven’t been able to find her, which has got to be some sick prank played on me by the gods. I’ll keep trying, of course, I’ll never stop looking for here, but it gets so unbearably hard sometimes.

Same with Grover, I miss that goat so much. I try to be more eco-friendly and conscious on what I give and take from nature for him. I know it’s small, but some part of me thinks he’d be happy to know I took all his rants and raves to heart, that I listened and really took in what he was saying; not a lot of people wanted to do that, but he was usually right. He was my other bestfriend, carried me and had my back through so much that it’s baffling to think I haven’t spoken to him once in this life. I reread our source and have to shake off tears because of how much I miss him at times, as embarrassing as it is to admit that.

It’s been harder with the live action and all the news surrounding that, especially because of how much Leah and Aryan look like them, sound like them, act like them— I mean, they’ve got their mannerisms down almost perfectly. Wherever they both are, I hope they’re okay. I hope life is treating them kindly and they’re able to do things they wanted to before but either never got around to or were unable to. I hope they’re happy. I hope they know I miss them, that still love them with every inch of my watery being, and that I’ll never stop waiting for them to come home. — Percy Jackson (fictive) (#🔱☀️)

#fictionkinfessions #fictionkin #🔱☀️#fictive #percyjacksonfictive #pjofictive #chara love #mod party cat

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rosie-b · 10 months ago

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Centuries Overdue

Chapter 8

Marinette sighed in relief.

There, a little black cat was floating in the air near Adrien, who was still alive and okay! Beside the cat, there was a ladybug of equal size with sparkling blue eyes. As it hovered near the other kwami, it looked over at Marinette and smiled.

“Hello, Marinette! It’s good to see one of my own Mages,” the kwami gushed, flying over to her. “That hasn’t happened in a while. I’m Tikki. Nice to meet you!”

Marinette was lost for words. “Where’s Gimmi?”

Tikki looked confused at first, but then understanding flooded her face. “You met them, didn’t you? I’m so glad you’re all right! What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Marinette swallowed. “It’s a long story.”

“Then it’s all the more important to tell, don’t you think?” Tikki asked. She gazed up at Marinette with innocent blue eyes.

Marinette looked at Adrien, who sighed.

“Tell her the abridged version, Marinette. She and Plagg deserve to know.”

Marinette looked back at Tikki. “It started when I decided to visit the catacombs and Alya told me there were zombies,” she began. She spent the next few minutes quickly recapping what had happened next, and noticed how sad and remorseful Tikki looked when she heard about the Mages and Talents who’d been trapped by Gimmi’s magic.

“I am so sorry you had to go through that, Marinette! Thank you for telling us about it, though. It’s good that we know.”

The other kwami, who must be Plagg, looked horrified. “I wish I didn’t,” he said.

Adrien reached out to cup him in his hands. “I know how you feel. But it will be okay, right?”

Plagg nodded uneasily. “They would have had to be released,” he told Adrien. “All the Talents. They’re all gone now, Adrien.”

“I think they already were,” Adrien said sadly. “I’m glad they can rest now, at least. They had to wait for release too long.”

Plagg nodded, curling up in his Chosen’s palm. “It’s a good thing you’re safe, Adrien.”

“Well,” Marinette said, “I hate to bring it up, but I have a huge question that’s still unanswered. How do we get out of the catacombs? We’re still in a locked-off, uncharted section of them. No one can find us here, which means either we rescue ourselves, we get lucky and some cataphiles find us, or we die. And I’d rather not die!”

“You can use your powers to escape!” Tikki said excitedly. “Create a map of the catacombs, and Plagg and I will help you get out, even if the entrance is blocked.”

Oh, man, things had changed since just a few hours ago. Back then, Marinette had accepted that she just wouldn’t be able to escape, but now, she had gained a— a partner? Magic sort-of soulmate? Friend?

She had Adrien with her now, and her own magic to boot. Plus two helpful kwamis who’d recently been part of one big, scary kwami who’d almost killed her.

“Okay,” Marinette said dubiously. “I guess that could work, even if I’m still new to magic. But what spell do I use, Tikki?”

“Since I’m with you right now, it doesn’t have to be complicated. Just say, ‘Tikki, spots on!’ and I’ll give you a map instead of a yo-yo this time.”

“Is that how that works,” Marinette muttered. “Okay, Tikki, spots on!”

Sure enough, a map fell into her hands.

“Better than a teapot, right, Marinette?” Adrien asked.

She snorted. “Very. Okay,” she said, twisting the map around. “It looks like we should go that way!”

“We’ll need some light,” Adrien said. “And you may be powerful, but you’re still new to magic, so you can only do one spell at a time.”

“Let me do it!” Tikki offered. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to help one of my Mages. Without the Talents, it’s been nearly a decade since the last one made it to my castle.”

“Your castle?”

“Mm-hm, in Italy. Adrien’s visited it before; you can ask him to tell you all about it if you want!” Tikki studied the map and darted ahead, creating a series of little lanterns to show the way. The rest of the group followed after her.

“Oh, right! He wrote about it in the third and ninth journals. I remember now,” Marinette said.

Adrien looked amused. “Wait, did you read the rest of my journals, too? Not just the one you found me with?”

“Uh—” Marinette gulped as her face heated up. “Maybe? They were in a library I was working at for my summer job. They were kind of falling apart, but they were intriguing, so I read them anyway. They’re how I found out about magic.”

“Yeah, that would be why Gimmi was targeting my kitten,” Plagg grumbled. “He’s too good at his job. Gimmi didn’t want him to keep writing and risk the Ungifted finding out about magic again, or the Mages figuring out who was behind the Darkness.”

“I didn’t even know about Wishes while I was writing,” Adrien groaned. “Honestly, Gimmi needs to talk to other people before murdering them! And you should talk to other people more often, too, Plagg. And not just about cheese.”

“You spent how many centuries maturing in the catacombs, and you still can’t appreciate my gooey cheeses? Adrien, I’m offended!” Plagg let out a loud, indignant sniff.

Although, Marinette noticed that he didn’t move from Adrien’s shoulder, where he had moved to rest.

“Well, at least you feel comfortable telling me when you feel bad,” Adrien said. “Now, do it more often; tell someone when something is hurting you. Maybe if you and Tikki don’t store up negative emotions, that will help Gimmi be less angry all the time, since you two are what they’re made of.”

“Sure thing, kid,” Plagg said. “I’ll talk your ear off if you want me to.”

“We should probably talk, too, Marinette,” Tikki said, coming back from lighting the rest of the lanterns. Behind them, the ones they’d already passed winked out of existence. “I bet you have a lot of questions for me!”

Marinette smiled, feeling very weary and no small amount overwhelmed. “Maybe once we get out of the catacombs,” she promised. “We still have a long way to go. And hey, it’s pretty cool that we’re here, now that I think about it,” she mused. “No one else has been where we are since probably before you died, Adrien! A positive outlook—and knowing we’re not about to die—makes this trip a lot better.”

He winced. “Yeah. It’s pretty cool,” he repeated cautiously. “However, you’re going to have to teach me everything I missed in the last two centuries, or I fear I’ll never blend in once we’re out of here. I’m still surprised I was able to come back at all.”

“Yeah, thank you for that, Ponytail,” Plagg said.

On realizing who he was speaking to, Marinette reached back for her hair, feeling offended. “Hey! I needed to keep it out of my eyes, that’s all.”

“Plagg, be nice! Besides, milady, I think you look beautiful like this,” Adrien said.

Plagg peeked one eye open to stare at him. “Oh boy, here we go,” he groaned.

Marinette’s face felt like someone had turned into a furnace. “O-oh, hanks, Madrien! I mean, thanks, Adrien! It isn’t my usual style, though.”

“Oh! Well, I’m sure you’re beautiful no matter how you wear it.” Adrien smiled at her, but when she kept staring at him, he coughed and schooled his face. “Okay, I have a joke to share while we’re all still trying to keep distracted. Here it goes— what do libraries and catacombs have in common?”

Marinette blinked. Libraries and catacombs? “I don’t know. What?”

Adrien grinned and leaned closer to her. “They both have a lot of spines! Get it?”

Marinette looked sideways at Adrien, whose smile began to slip.

“Book spines, human spines? No?”

Marinette closed her eyes. “Adrien, I just almost died and you just came back from being dead. How can you joke about bones already? I think if I look at the walls we’re walking past for too long, I’ll throw up.”

Adrien winced. “Sorry! I’m so sorry. I forgot, it’s rude to speak that way in front of—"

“Girls aren’t the issue, Adrien,” Plagg interrupted. “The Un-Gifted moved past that, mostly.”

Adrien relaxed. “Oh. That’s good. I mean, the Mages were always a bit different, but it’s good to know the rest of the world has changed, too.”

“It definitely has,” Marinette agreed. “It was refreshing, to read your journals and know that at least for some women, the 1800s weren’t as bad as they were for most. You know, thinking back to the joke, I think the issue is that you grew up basically surrounded by war and death, but I didn’t. France is mostly at peace in the modern world; democracy is back, and so it was really hard to suddenly be thrust into a battle and confronted with so much death. I’m sure we’ll both need therapy when we get back.”

“Therapy?” Adrien questioned, raising one eyebrow. “You’re sure we can get that? What we went through is pretty specific, you know.”

“Modern therapy, yes. Alya told me the Mages have their own therapists, so you don’t need to worry about revealing magic’s existence in order to get some closure.

“I’ll talk you through the basics later, because we’re getting close to the exit. We need to figure out some other things first, before we get back on the main path and the guards hopefully find us. Like, how do we explain your sudden presence? We can tell Alya and the Mages, of course, but what about the guards and the rest of the world?”

“You should work together with Alya,” Tikki said, excitedly zooming in front of Marinette so she could face her. “I can go see her now and ask her to cast a spell! It will be hard for her to do, but very much worth the effort. With the help of her illusions, Adrien will be ‘recognized’ as another missing visitor to the catacombs, and once you’re both out, you can go to Alya and create a fake ID and whatever else you need to fit in.”

“An ID,” Adrien repeated. He looked adorable when he was confused, Marinette thought.

“It’s basically a card that tells the government who you are. It’s not that bad, I promise!”

Adrien scrunched his eyebrows together. “If you say that it isn’t, milady, then I trust you.”

Tikki smiled. “Great! I’ll go tell Alya, then.” She phased through the catacomb walls and vanished.

“Aww, why can’t we do that?” Marinette asked.

“You could, if you were less mortal and more awesome,” Plagg said with a smirk.

Adrien shot him a glare. “So, I need to pretend to have an ID. What else do I need to know right now?”

Marinette thought for a moment. “Cars! Okay, we’ve made these vehicles that run on gas or electricity and they’re basically mini rooms with seats on wheels, and they move really fast. There are also airplanes, faster ships, and subways and trains. Um, and lightbulbs? Did you have those?”

Adrien shook his head. Marinette sighed.

“They’re like lanterns, but they run on electricity. No big deal.”

“No big deal,” Adrien repeated in disbelief. “Really? It sounds like the Un-Gifted found a way to make their own magic! That’s incredible!”

Marinette blushed. “I guess it is. Um, other things run on electricity, too; a lot, actually. I showed you my phone; basically everybody has one now and they do a lot of cool stuff I’ll need more than ten minutes to explain, haha. There are bigger versions called tablets, and then there are laptops and computers, which are even bigger but still similar to phones, and TVs, which are even bigger and mostly show the weather or recorded, uh, plays and musicals. Oh, when we get to the entrance, there will probably be a ton of cameras, which are these devices that basically flash a light at you and take a picture of you, exactly as you are. Like an instant painting!”

“That sounds terrifying,” Adrien said, grabbing her hand. “I didn’t think things would change that much, even if it’s been a couple centuries! Next you’ll tell me they found a way to go into outer space,” he chuckled.

Marinette looked at him with a smirk growing on her face.

“Oh, you have to be joking,” he breathed.

She giggled. “Nope, I’m not! Aaand we’re at the entrance to the main paths, now. Are you ready?”

Adrien squeezed her hand tight. “If you are, milady.”

“Hey, lover-boy,” Plagg said, still not moving from his spot on Adrien’s shoulders, “If you want to get through that nice metal gate facing you, you’re gonna have to let go of her hand.”

“Oh! Right. Plagg, claws out!” Adrien said, dropping her hand with a bashful smile. “Cataclysm.” He touched the gate and it rusted, falling open and letting them pass through it.

“Is that how you got in, the first time?” Marinette asked. “I know you didn’t wait to go in like a normal person.”

Adrien flushed. “Oh, right, the journals. Um. Yes. Why did I ever write that down?” He muttered the last bit to himself, just barely audible.

“Well, it helped you out in the end,” Marinette said. “If it weren’t for your journals, I never would have been able to rescue you.”

“Which I am so grateful for,” Adrien said assuringly. “Have I said that enough times? I don’t think I have. Should I write you a song to say thank you?”

Marinette blushed and tried to distract herself from the romantic implications of writing songs. He’s from the past, it was different back then! “Ooh, you can write songs, too, not just write?”

“I’m a man of many talents,” Adrien smiled. “You could call it a gift.”

Marinette smacked his arm.

He grinned at her and kept walking forward through the tunnels.

A few meters later, a guard finally spotted them, and they were rushed up to the main building.

Predictably, the press was there waiting, and Alya was right beside them. Once they got some initial footage, she waved a hand, muttering something under her breath, and the reporters busied themselves with her illusions of interviewing the two rescuees. Adrien watched in awe as Alya stepped out to lead them away from the scene.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it all handled. They’ll think you just fell behind, got lost for a while, but turned around and came back without any real issues,” she told them. “Now. Are you both okay? You’re not hurt?”

Marinette nodded. Now that they were finally out, she felt completely exhausted. “I think we’re fine; no injuries here. Alya, that was so scary,” she cried, throwing her arms around her friend in a tight hug.

“I told you it was dangerous,” Alya said sadly. “I am so glad you’re okay. Tikki told me you found your magic, and defeated the zombies? You found Adrien, too, and resurrected him? Like, that’s insane! Girl, you are something else entirely!” she exclaimed excitedly.

“She is quite amazing,” Adrien agreed, wide-eyed. “If that’s what that means.”

Alya’s lips twitched. “Oh, it’s a good thing Tikki told me to start that illusion,” she said, barely restraining a laugh. “Your clothes would have given you away instantly if I hadn’t been there!”

Adrien frowned and pulled at his suit’s collar. “Yes, after seeing those other men, I can see why. What is the modern fashion these days?”

“It’s a lot comfier, for one thing,” Alya said. “I think you’ll like it.”

Relaxing, Adrien smiled at her. “That’s good to hear. By the way, it seems you both know my name, but I don’t think I know yours,” he said, gesturing at her.

Marinette smiled. “This is Alya, my best friend and head Mage of Trixx. She taught me about the modern Mage community and the finer details of how magic works.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Adrien,” Alya said, offering her hand. “Now, let’s get you up to speed!”

Written for @mlbigbang

#only one more chapter left to go!#ao3 links at the top #ml fanfic #ml au #centuries overdue #rosie-b writing #miraculous ladybug #adrinettte #lovesquare #oof I ran out of colors for the title #how did i not see that coming T_T

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neonblessing · 1 year ago

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⚠️ SPOILER ALERT! ⚠️ Click here to read Neon Blessing from the beginning!

Shiv pocketed the phone, then reached out and took Ornarch’s withered hand. “I’ll do it.”

Her god smiled. “I knew I could count on you.” With a twist of his long, thin fingers, a sleek black card appeared and found its way between her fingers. “Twenty thousand credits.”

Shiv nearly dropped the card in surprise. “Twenty thousand?!” The payout for picking a pocket was three digits at the highest: cards would be canceled long before they could be used, and there was always the risk that the mark might have augments or trackers. B&E paid better, but you needed to find a fence who could break into stolen electronics, and they were almost universally scum. The shit she and Raz had looted on the botched job could have been worth a hundred grand, even after a steep cut from both Ornarch and a middleman, but that had taken weeks of planning and cost her an arm. Twenty thousand up front was unthinkable.

Ornarch waved a hand dismissively, rings glinting in the industrial glare. “Grease some palms, hire some muscle, buy a gun. Whatever makes the job easier.”

“Thank you, lord.” She hesitated a moment, realizing she had no idea where to start looking. “Do you have any leads?”

“How were Raz’s finances?”

“About as broke as me, I think. Those implants cost a lot.”

“So they’d need to sell off some of the haul to get away from here. They aren’t safe in the Diluvian, and fare out of here is pricey.”

“I’ll ask around.”

“Wonderful.”

“Any idea as to why they did it?”

“No. No clue.” She almost choked on the words. That was the worst part, the bit that kept her up at night. What could have been so important that they’d just leave her?

“Ah well. Good luck, Shiv.” The dismissal, unspoken, was irrefutable. She would do what he wanted, he would give her what she wanted. The conversation was over. For all his immortality, Ornarch was not a patient god.

Shiv turned to leave, the roar of water rushing up to meet her as she approached the exit of the pipe. Could she even kill them? In a fistfight, even down an arm, definitely. Guns were a toss-up given that neither of them knew how to shoot. But of course, Raz was a skulljack, and a good one at that.

Skulljack. It was a dirty word, the worst kind of mage. Raz’s brilliant blue undercut hid dozens of neurocranial implants–translators and antennae and arcane batteries–all bent towards one terrible purpose: the subjugation of the will. In that dingy waiting room before their first operation, she’d told them not to do it, but she’d come to rely on their skills in the years since: skulljacking took too long to be useful in a fight, but it was priceless in an interrogation.

Of course, skulljacking was easier the better you knew someone, and they’d grown up together. Over a decade and a half, she and Raz had bared every last rotten secret–had aired out every scrap of encryption around their souls. They promised they’d never fuck with her, but would she know if they had? Even if they hadn’t, how long could she hold out against someone who knew her first crush, all her fears, and everything she’d ever dreamt of?

As she climbed the stairs back to street level, her nervous thoughts sublimated into a mantra, repeated with every step.

I’m not who I was a month ago. That woman could never imagine killing them. I can.

First Page – Previous Page – Next Page

#6 #neon blessing #shiv #ornarch

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spaceorphan18 · 2 years ago

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5 Times Kurt Talks About Sex and 1 Time He Doesn't (Part Two)

A/N: So, this was inspired the other day by a Nonny who was asking about how Kurt interacts with others on the topic of sex and this little idea popped in my head.

It’s a little mini-series, and I’ll post one part a day, then I’ll get it up on Ao3 after it’s complete.

It’s set in a post-canon-ish world when they’re all living in New York. The whole thing takes place over the course of a day.

Btw - for this one, I reference one of my other fics - With Every Broken Bone. You don't need to have read it or anything - but if you're wondering where I pulled the idea that Kurt had a one-night stand, that's where.

****

Conversation Two: Elliott

Kurt finishes the rest of his bagel and throws the paper wrapper into a nearby trash can. He still has a full cup of coffee to enjoy, and even though the stand’s regular roast is a bit bland, he’ll still take all the cheap coffee he can get in a day.

“You’re late,” Kurt says as he sips from the styrofoam cup. It’s nearly eleven and he does have lunch plans, but he and Elliott have been taking a Saturday morning walk in Central Park for half a decade now, and Kurt isn’t one to change his routine so easily.

“Yeah, I know, I know…” Elliott looks a little haggard. Despite the spring sun shining around them, Elliott’s lacking his usual energetic demeanor. “This guy I hooked up with didn’t want to leave the apartment. He kept wanting to snuggle.”

“Oh, the horror,” Kurt deadpans. He motions to the stand but Elliott brushes it off, not seeming interested despite having the knowledge that this little food cart has the best cream cheese in the park. Instead, they start down their usual path.

“Yeah, and then he spent an hour telling me about his antique birdhouse collection,” Elliott says. “I mean, you do you and everything, but I’ve got places to be.”

“Why did you even pick this guy?”

“Kurt, seriously…” Elliott stops them in their tracks a moment, and waits until an older woman walking her dog passes by. “He had the most beautiful cock that I have ever seen. I thought, when he sent me a pic, that he had doctored it somehow. But nope - good god, it was a work of art. Okay, why the look?”

“C’mon,” Kurt shrugs a little as they pick up walking again. “Let’s not kid ourselves. I may be fond of them, but the penis, by design, is hardly a work of art.”

“This guy’s was.”

“Fine, let’s say it was. Did you really think the most artistically designed dick was really going to be attached to the world’s most perfect human specimen?” Kurt asks.

“You know, you can judge me all you want - and, sure we only had, like, a sixty-seven percent match on the app,” Elliott continues. “But I got to play with the most beautiful cock, possibly, in North America.”

Kurt rolls his eyes a little, as he shakes his head. All these stories seem to run the same after awhile, and it’s times like these, he’s glad he’s married and settled. “Well, maybe next time you should downgrade a little and try a dick attached to a personality that better suits you.”

Elliott eyes him sharply. “It’s not like I’m expecting you to understand.”

“Understand what?”

Elliott plays it coy a little, which is unlike him. “The allure of just wanting to enjoy a beautiful cock for what it is.”

Kurt snaps his head abruptly. “I’ll have you know that Blaine has a--”

Elliott holds up his hand to stop him. “I have no doubt that whatever Blaine has is lovely. But Kurt, how many actual pensises have you seen in real life?”

Kurt scrunches his nose. “More than I’ve ever asked for. I’ve seen yours.”

Elliott grumbles. “Yeah, cause you don’t know how to knock before entering a room. No, I mean, how many have you seen actually up close? Two?”

“It’s been more than two,” Kurt says defensively.

“Has it?”

Kurt grumbles into his coffee, wondering why numbers are even important. “Fine, if we’re really going to go there… I mean, Blaine, obviously. Myself.”

“You can’t count yourself.”

“Ug, alright, well when Blaine and I broke up the first time I dated this British guy named Adam.”

“Oh god, you would date a British guy,” Elliott chuckled. “Did he also have a tattoo of the queen on his thing?”

“No,” Kurt shot back. “He was really pale though.” He slowed his walk to think about it further. “There was that one-night stand I had the summer after I called off the engagement. But, you know, I can’t even remember it all that well.”

“What about that dude who was older than your dad?” Elliott asks, wiggling his eyebrows as if it was a scandalous secret Kurt had kept all these years.

“Oh my god - I had forgotten about Walter…” Kurt replies. That had barely been a thing. “Yeah, we may have messed around a little. You know, his dick was much nicer than you’d expect. But my god, he did not know what to do with it. I honestly felt really bad for his ex-wife.”

“And…if my calculations are right, that’d bring us back to Blaine, so unless there’s a threesome in there that I don’t know about that brings your total to five.”

Kurt continues to sip his coffee, still mulling it over. “I mean…there was the one time I had to do a sex scene in a play, and I caught more than my fair share of my scene partner’s junk. But he had some weird stuff going on under the hood, so probably not even worth mentioning. I mean, like, weird piercings weird.”

“Ew.”

“I know.”

“So, there we have it,” Elliott says. He holds his hands out wide, as if some great conclusion had been stumbled upon. “My point stands.”

“There was a point to this?”

“What I’m saying is this,” Elliot says. “You’ve tried, like, five flavors of ice cream and decided you were done when there’s a vast array of ice cream flavors just waiting to be tasted. And, sure, some may leave you bloated and gross and won’t shut up about endangered birds of North America but my god it was worth it while you were eating it.”

“Why do people always use ice cream when making their sex metaphors?”

“Who doesn’t love ice cream?”

“Lesbians, probably.”

“It’s a multipurpose metaphor, Kurt, and you’re intentionally getting off topic.”

“I just think it’s a ridiculous point,” Kurt says, a layer of irritation in his voice. How is this a conversation they even ended up having? “Have you ever stopped to think about quality over quantity? How many guys, on average, do you think you pick up a week?”

Elliott thinks it over. “I don’t know, maybe one or two on a good week.”

“Wow - I didn’t realize it was that many.”

“You’re being judgy again, Kurt…”

“Anyway…” Kurt says, with a long gulp of his coffee - lamenting that he’s almost done with the cup. “On average, I’d say Blaine and I mess around three or four times a week. So, comparatively, I’m having my expensive, always satisfying sweet treat twice as often and always at my disposal while you scrounge around trying to engorge yourself on any freezer burned dessert in a decently wrapped package, trying to trick yourself into thinking that the ice cream sandwich stuck at the bottom is marginally better because it has that chocolate cookie included, but once you try it, it’s not nearly as edible as it initially looked. Well, you can keep your most likely chemically encrusted, cheap ice cream. I want my gourmet vanilla with caramel sauce every time. ”

Elliott remains quiet for a long beat. “I think you killed the metaphor.”

“Well, it was your metaphor,” Kurt shoots back. “Besides, would you have preferred me to say that my husband might not be breaking the art world with his cock but his is the most beautiful to me and I would rather be fucked by that than by anything else?”

Elliott lets out a hearty laugh. “Kurt, I love it when you're poetically crude."

Kurt grumbles again as he tosses the empty coffee cup into a trash can on the side of the path. “And for the record, there’s nothing wrong with liking birds.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing - Don’t worry about it.”

#s.o. writes things #5 times #kurt hummel #elliott gilbert #kurt hummel fic

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flowersarefreetherapy · 2 years ago

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You Are My Sunshine: pt. 12

CW: Fluff, some light angst (but not a lot)

“Catan or Ticket to Ride?”

Robin shrugs as they force the Tupperware lid down on the last bit of leftovers. “Ticket to Ride. As long as I’m not reading the names upside down.”

“My intelligent lawyer can’t read upside down?” Thad laughs.

“I know few who can.”

Thad laughs again and they savor the sound. Lately the house has been full of joy and laughter. Ezra is here nearly every evening, crashing on the couch with Star and watching movies or telling stories or joining them in playing board games. Slowly, in fits and starts, Star is learning how to read, often wanting to read the rules of a game for himself. They’ve learned to keep painkillers on hand for those games.

“I’ll get it out,” Robin volunteers. “Want to get out the chocolate?”

“And the wine,” Thad adds, blowing them a kiss. Robin smiles back and goes to the game cabinet. They swear under their breath when they open the cabinet and several decks of cards fall out.

“We need to organize this better.”

“You’ve been saying that for a decade.”

It’s been that long? Robin smiles as they pull out the board game. This time, they make sure to put everything back in a way that won’t collapse. Rather like putting together a family, they think and smile ruefully. It is, in some ways, like that. Taking all the odd shapes and different styles and making them fit together in something that resembles togetherness.

Thad already has the bag of chocolate out and waiting on the table, along with two glasses of wine. He shifts them, giving Robin room to put the box on the table. They set it up with practiced ease, claiming their playing colors without a second of debate. Robin shuffles the small cards while Thad checks the pieces are all there.

“I hope they’re having a good night,” Thad says, starting to line up his green trains in a row next to the board.

“I’m sure it’s going just fine.” Robin sits across from him. The board is between them so both of them can read the names. “Want to text and ask?”

“No, not at all,” Thad laughs, shaking his head. “No, I don’t want to become that parent.”

“Like Maria did when we were dating?”

A rich blush crawls up Thad’s neck. He sets up the train cards and says, “Remember that one time she wouldn’t stop calling?”

Robin blinks at him, fighting their hardest to keep a blush from coloring their own face. With a shake of their head, they look at the table and poke at one of their trains. “I do not recall that specific moment or the circumstances surrounding it.”

“Course you don’t,” Thad says with a smirk. “I suppose I'll just have to remind you how it went later.”

“Are you flirting with me, Mr. Castillo?”

“Perhaps.” Thad takes their hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “And what if I am, Mx. Castillo? Intelligent and attractive lawyers such as yourself don’t fall out of the sky every day. I would be a fool to let such an opportunity pass.”

They lose the fight to hide their blush. Robin leans forwards and pecks Thad’s lips. “I’m starting.”

“You also start,” Thad says with an exaggerated pout. “You’re going to win again.”

“And what will my reward be?”

Thad’s smirk is all the answer they need. Robin picks up a card and opens their mouth to continue teasing their husband when the door slams open. They whip around to see a familiar person stagger in, blood running from a gash on his cheek.

“Daniel?”

Tagging: @pigeonwhumps @blood-is-compulsory (let me know if you want to be added/removed!)

#fluff #light angst #flirting #bbu universe #thad #robin #daniel the protector #sunshine house #daniel’s back and we aren’t going to talk what that means

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nehswritesstuffs · 2 years ago

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Father Like Son, Mother Like Daughter, Parent Like Child - Part 4 of 4

This one ended up being even longer than the last, wtf... at least we’re done now lol

First chapter on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3]

Second chapter on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3]

Prior chapter on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3]

With the Straw Hats dispersed due to Bartholomew Kuma, it’s time for more than just them to brace for the incoming Age. [11,422 words; AU where Cora-san and Bell-mère raised their six kids in the East Blue and everyone is better-adjusted ]

Nojiko gasped as she saw the newspaper, headlines cementing some of her worst fears in quick succession.

STRAW HAT PIRATES ELIMINATED IN DRAMATIC SHOWDOWN

BACK FROM THE DEAD? “STRAW HAT” LUFFY LEADS PRISON REVOLT, DESTROYS IMPEL DOWN

WHITEBEARD, PORTGAS D. ACE DEAD IN EPIC WAR AT MARINEFORD

SIBLINGS? PIRATICAL CONNECTIONS BAFFLE NAVAL INTELLIGENCE

It appeared as though the past few days had been extremely eventful for family members not-her. She went through the articles and tried to figure out if her idiot seafaring siblings were all okay. There was nothing saying that the Heart Pirates weren’t alright, and if her sister’s idiot captain could survive being attacked by Kuma…

“I might just murder the lot of them,” she decided to no one in particular. “No note, no word, no nothing! Not even anything out of Mom and Dad! I’ll kill them!”

“Uhh… Miss Nojiko…?” She looked and saw her tweenaged hired help standing there, confusion on his face and a bushel of mikans in his hands. Oh yeah, that’s right: she had been working in the grove when the newspaper arrived. “Is everything okay…?”

“Maybe? Possibly? I don’t know…” She rolled up the paper and stuffed it in her apron pocket. “You got any siblings, Chabo?”

“No ma’am.”

“Good—they’re only reliable for causing trouble and running up your blood pressure.”

“Uhh… yes, ma’am… if you say so…”

He really hoped he was going to survive this shift.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The doors to Sengoku’s office were violently kicked open, causing the old man to jump in surprise at his desk. To his even bigger surprise, a woman he hadn’t seen in-person for nearly twenty years came barging in, pure fury on her face.

“What the fuck are you up to, Sengoku?!” she snapped. She completely ignored the goat bleating in confusion at her and stormed up to the desk, slamming her hands on the surface. “I’m waiting.”

“It’s been a long time, Captain Cocoyasi,” he stated. “Please clarify: what brings you from your hometown, into a secure government facility, past my guards, and into my office?”

“You put a child on the chopping block for something he could never control and tried to escape,” she hissed. “Your subordinates almost murdered my children. When is this going to end?!”

“You came all the way from the East to remind me of how terrible my job is? That’s what I have Garp for.”

“Both of you are fucking idiots and honestly deserve whatever this New Age deals you.” Bell-mère folded her arms across her chest and scowled at the man in front of her. The goat kept gently butting its head against her thigh—it wanted treats and pets and she wasn’t giving either.

“Was that really your daughter…?” Sengoku asked quietly. “The Straw Hat navigator?”

“Don’t play dumb with me; I know you meddled with her bounty.”

“He can’t do much for his grandchildren, Belle, but he can at least do that.”

Sengoku silently stood as he looked towards the office door, the new voice slightly deeper and rougher than he remembered. Cora stepped through into the room and he lingered by the door with his hands in his pockets.

“Ro… Rosinante…?”

“Yeah,” the younger man affirmed. “It’s me.”

Shakily, Sengoku rushed to Cora and enveloped him in a hug. Tears choked his words as he held the boy he raised, cursing their near-multiple decades apart, only to realize something…

…his boy wasn’t hugging back.

“How much blood is on your hands?”

The question cut through Sengoku swift and precise. He let go of Cora and allowed the man to step further into the office, enough to look out the window upon the training grounds below. Everything was a fucking mess—rebuilding could have become cost-prohibitive.

“All I’ve done is what I’ve had to,” Sengoku stated, making sure the door was closed. “I’ve never run from it.”

“My daughter declared war on you,” Cora said darkly. A chill overcame Sengoku and the older man suddenly felt very exposed. “She declared war as she went to raid Enies Lobby, to rescue her friend, who you have been hunting for twenty years. That woman is not old enough to have committed a crime punishable by bounty… not if it was committed two decades ago.”

“I did what I had to do,” Sengoku repeated. Something sinister bubbled just below the surface of his words; he knew what this was about. His tone set something ablaze in Cora, there was no more time for excuses.

“Children died because of you! Nations erased because of you!”

“Don’t you think you know the choices I had to make!” the older man snapped. “Unlike you, I never ran away!”

“Then what else didn’t you run away from?!” Cora spat. “If you didn’t run away from Ohara and making that poor girl’s life a living hell, then what else did you approve?! Did you give the orders to murder my daughters’ families in Oykot and eliminate those who protested?!”

“Rosinante!”

“Do I only have my sons because you pulled the trigger on Flevance?!”

“You are out of line! There was nothing else I could have done!”

“Stop lying to me! You killed them! You might not have been there, but it was your orders behind it! Admit it! Flevance is dead in part because of you!”

“Their own hubris was what did them in!”

“Hubris?! You want to blame this on hubris?! If anyone’s hubris is to blame it’s the Government’s! The nobility who fled with only a trace of Amber Lead in their blood and their pockets lined in money! My son’s parents were slaughtered while trying to cure what you ran away from! He would look at his sisters and cry, because all he could do was remember the one who died in his arms! Do you think those three possessed enough hubris to deserve to die from it?!”

“You were not there, Rosinante! You do not know the depths of these decisions!”

“Cora.” The fleet admiral looked at him, eyebrow raised. “My name is Cora.”

“Rosinante…”

“The man said his name is Cora,” Bell-mère said idly. She was half-leaning, half sitting on the desk, looking at the things that covered it. “One of our middle kids gave him that name, you know… though I doubt it was the one responsible for this.” She picked up a picture frame and examined the contents: her and her husband on their wedding day. “This looks like our other middle brat’s work. She’s a clever one—safest for the world she stays farmer.”

Silence settled over the office and the two men glared at one another.

“You want to throw everything away for some misguided kids?” Sengoku asked. “Kids that have been exposed to who knows how many lies since they left your home?”

“Compared to the lies I was fed?” Cora walked back to Sengoku, standing close enough to smell the man’s cologne. “Stay away from my children, do you hear me?”

“I’m the only thing keeping those kids from being hunted down like animals.”

“Wouldn’t that get in the way of Justice? You always did wear your guilt a little differently.” Neither man broke eye contact, the stare-down tense. “Belle, we’re leaving.”

“You sure? It’s kind of fun watching you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He waited for Bell-mère to open the office door before taking a step back. “You know, I always felt sorry for Garp growing up. I guess it’s his son and surviving grandson I should pity.”

“You’re an adult, Rosinante. You should know that sometimes good choices don’t exist.”

“That’s why we change the game, to make the good choices anyhow.” Cora turned on his heel and left the office, Bell-mère flashing Sengoku her middle fingers before backing out into the corridor and following him.

“Yeah, you’re not getting an inheritance,” Bell-mère snarked as she and Cora navigated the base’s corridors, dodging people who were looking at them in all manner of confusion. A few even dropped the papers they were carrying in surprise, having been around long enough to remember them both.

Those days were gone now, and they were the only survivors.

“I should have done this earlier,” Cora admitted. They turned a corner and went down a flight of stairs, heading towards the entrance. He tripped over himself and began to fall, with Bell-mère catching him by the collar before he could take a proper tumble.

“Telling him off now compared to ten years ago wouldn’t’ve made a damn bit of difference,” she scoffed. Once they were off the staircase they immediately went outside, where the sun was so bright they nearly had to shield their eyes. “Take it for what it’s worth; he didn’t kick us out or try to arrest us.”

“Almost wish he had.”

“So that what? We can get high on the shit list too? This is all such a fucking mess.” They made their way over to the docks, only to find that there was a stranger sitting in their boat. It was a young woman, barely older than their eldest daughter, with large, round eyes and a casual air about her.

“We’re not a hire service—fuck off,” Cora said. The young woman did not move.

“Never thought you were, Corazón,” she said. “Apologies; do you prefer Donquixote Rosinante? Maybe Commander Donquixote?”

“Is this something meant to scare me? Because it’s not working.”

“Trying to scare either of you is counter-productive,” the stranger stated. “Cora, Bell-mère, my boss would like to have a word with you. He doesn’t want your pity—it’s something more valuable he wants to discuss.” She took a red envelope from her pocket and held it out, a casual smile on her lips.

An envelope with a dragon printed on it.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Luffy woke up with a gasp. His whole body felt weak and shook terribly. The air smelled funny and he felt like he wanted to vomit. He did do just that, in fact, rolling over and deciding that the contents of his stomach needed to be on the floor instead. Shifting to lay on his back again, he groaned in discomfort, though snapped to full awareness as something hit the pillow next to his head…

Correction: a sword stabbed the bit of pillow next to his head.

“Strawhat-ya,” Law growled. Luffy’s eyes went wide as he saw his fellow Supernova lording above him, murderous conviction oozing from his very being. He was straddling him, knees on either side of his waist as his hands held shakily onto the sword’s hilt, his own eyes glinting in something feral… something powerful… something vengeful. Somewhere nearby, he could hear Hancock being restrained by some others… huh… he was back on the girl island…?

“Oh, hi Torao,” the younger man smiled warily. “Were you the one who patched me up?”

“Where. Is. My. Sister?”

Luffy blinked, unsure how to respond.

“WHERE IS MY SISTER?!” Spit flew from his mouth and tears welled in his eyes. “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU LET HAPPEN TO HER?!”

“Torao, I…”

“WHERE DID KUMA SEND HER?!”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

“Law, come on, he just woke up…”

“I don’t care, Penguin,” Law snarled. “All I want is our sister, safe.”

“Don’t you think that’s something I want too?!” Luffy snapped back. “Nami’s my navigator! I don’t want any other! I don’t want any other crew! I want them! I want… I want…!” It was Luffy’s turn to cry, as everything hit him at once. “I want my big brother back! I want Ace!” He curled into a ball underneath Law, who straightened in order to look at this boy—he was just a boy, wasn’t he—sob pathetically as he mourned not only his crew, but his family as well.

Fuck… maybe it was meant to shake out this way after all.

Standing up, Law pulled his sword from the bedding and sheathed it, stepping back from the distraught teen. He could feel his own older brothers’ hands on his shoulders and his breath hitched—it was something that Luffy was never going to feel again with Portgas and the rest of the crew gone, wasn’t it?

“He just lost everyone,” Shachi said lowly. “Give the kid some space.”

“Every speck of time helps, and he’s the only one with any answers,” Law replied. He watched as Hancock went to Luffy’s side and began fussing over him, pillowing his head in her lap and smoothing his hair. Jinbe and Granny Nyon both looked at one another awkwardly, not knowing how much of what was going on was necessarily… appropriate.

“Then maybe you need to make the answers for yourselves,” said a voice. The brothers looked over to see that Rayleigh had returned to the room, observing the scene meticulously. “Luffy didn’t mean for any of this to happen just as much as you did—in a lot of ways to him, Nami’s as much his sister as she is to you.”

“Ray-ya, I don’t know if you understand how much we need to see our sister again… how much I need to see her and know she’s safe.”

“Then I suggest you get going on training,” the old man said. “Two years is a long time, but once it’s over, then it won’t seem like any time at all. You’ll need to take care while the Age is shifting or you will get left behind. You don’t want that sassy ginger girl to be stronger than you when she gets back, do you?”

“That would defeat the purpose of being the protective older brothers,” Penguin said. His brothers all nodded quietly. It was then that Bepo returned with a few more of the Kuja, the only one of them seemingly allowed to go wherever he wished sans a guard with exception of Rayleigh. “Everyone ready to go?”

“Yeah—Ikkaku says it’s best we leave soon as possible, so that none of the Kuja get too curious about the Tang,” he said. Bepo noticed Luffy was now awake and shifted awkwardly. “Is everything alright?”

“We have work to do,” Law stated. He handed Bepo his nodachi and approached Luffy again, ignoring the glares he was getting from the Empress. Crouching down, he stared at his sister’s captain until he stopped crying long enough to look at him. “Monkey D. Luffy.”

“Yeah, Torao?”

“Now you also know what it’s like to lose a sibling too soon. Do not disappoint me.”

At that, Law stood and began walking towards the door. His brothers followed, only for them to stop at the sound of Luffy’s voice.

“I’m going to become stronger! And stronger! And stronger! And stronger!” the young captain claimed. “I’m never going to lose anyone ever again!” Law turned around and saw Luffy standing, hands clenched in anger.

“It stings, doesn’t it? Losing someone like that?”

“You don’t know what I’ve lost,” Luffy snapped. “Don’t pretend like you do.”

“Now we’re on the same page.” Law snapped up a Room and twitched his wrist, a pile of goop appearing in Hancock’s lap. “That should stave off the sinus headache that comes from that amount of crying; I’m holding you to it, Strawhat-ya.”

“TRAFALGAR!” Hancock raged, having realized what the goop was soaking into her skirt.

“Oh shit gotta go!” Shachi grimaced, pulling his middle brother along. The four scrambled to make their way out of the castle, with Law shambling them halfway to the docks once they were outside.

“You’re an idiot!” Penguin snapped. “I want to come back here! We want to come back here!”

“We’re literally some of the only men to have ever seen this place and lived!” Shachi added. “Doesn’t that honor mean anything to you?!”

“You two are just horny,” Law deadpanned. Both his older brothers stumbled mid-stride—what a low blow.

“Get them!” someone yelled over the square. “They dishonored the Empress! Don’t let them get away!”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!” Shachi cursed, all of them sprinting fast as they could now. Law caught sight of the Tang and threw up a Room, dropping him and his brothers on the deck.

“Prepare to dive!” he ordered. His crew all stared at him for half a second before hurriedly rushing below deck. Only when they were safely underwater could they breathe, with Bepo gently elbowing Shachi.

“I think you meant to say ‘snot, snot, snot, snot, snot’ back there.”

Okay… maybe it was a little funny.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Two years passed in uncomfortable ease.

The rains came, the sun shone, the mikan harvest needed picking.

Power shifted.

A fractured crew trained on their own, refusing to let distance drive a wedge in their hearts.

Others prepared in their own way, yearning for the day they could put plans into action.

Alive Only, the entire time.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Nami honestly felt great. It was better than she’d felt in a long time—two whole years, in fact—and she was beyond glad to be back with her crew.

“Look! It’s the Sunny!” Chopper gasped. He and Usopp hopped off the Bon Chari and ran the rest of the way to their ship, immediately getting drawn into something ridiculous by… oh, seas, was that Franky…?

“Nami! You look well!” The young woman looked at the sound of her name and saw Robin standing on the deck. A warm smile brightened her face, which quickly spread to Nami as well.

“Robin! It’s so good to see you!” She attempted to ignore the boys as she brought her shopping bags aboard. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed having someone sane around~!”

“This sounds like you’ve got plenty to share involving your time away,” Robin chuckled. She took a quick glance and saw that Usopp and Chopper were still occupied with Franky’s new modifications. “Why don’t we put our things away before the crew’s get even more hectic?”

“Ugh, you’re right.” See? This was why Nami liked Robin; despite the creepy predictions and weird sense of humor, she was absolutely the only other person on the ship with a brain. Most of the time.

Trudging up the stairs, Nami and Robin both brought their bags into their room. Nami put hers on her bed and began to go through them, putting her new things away. She got through a couple bags before she turned around and saw Robin, the other woman sitting calmly at the table, watching her.

“Is… anything the matter…?” she asked.

“I’m just glad to be back,” Robin said. “You’re my family—there’s been plenty to process over these past two years.”

“Yeah…?”

“Yeah.”

After letting out a long sigh, Robin stood and walked over to Nami, bringing the younger woman into a hug. They stayed like that for a while, both taking strength from the other after so long apart.

“Just remember: after all we’ve been through, I don’t doubt you for a moment,” Robin said. “You are better than what came before you.”

“Robin…? What is this about…?”

“I was in a position to do a bit of digging while we were separated,” the archaeologist admitted. “Nothing much, but it’s enough to where I know a bit more than everyone lets on.”

“Considering how you are normally, that’s a lot,” Nami replied. “I trust you; don’t play your hand unless it’s necessary. I think you’re the best at that out of all of us.”

“Then I shall,” Robin agreed. “Now, let’s see what the boys have going on before something disfiguring happens, hmm?”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Setting up shop on Punk Hazard really did seem like a good idea at the time, Law thought as he wandered the corridors, though with each passing moment, it felt as though something was closing in on him. He had so far been unable to access the experiments that Cesar was working on, not to mention the combination of Monet and Pugio keeping an extremely tight grip on him for people who otherwise couldn’t care less. The Marine seemed almost nonchalant about it, in fact; there was something about him that put the young Warlord on-edge, and he wasn’t entirely certain what. It nagged at the back of his brain, making him more jittery than usual, especially now that he was staring down even more Marines on the front doorstep.

“You’re not supposed to be here, Shichibukai,” Vice Admiral Smoker stated. He and Captain Tashigi had nearly a hesitant air about them, while the G-5 mooks behind them were very clearly itching for a fight.

The dichotomy was… odd.

“What can I say? This is my home now.”

“I have it under good authority that it isn’t,” Smoker replied. “Now stop the act and let us in—we’ve got to talk.”

“I don’t know what I could possibly have to talk to you about,” Law said. “Leave me alone; consider this my Kuraigana.”

“Don’t think you’re able to play tough guy with us,” Smoker spat. Tashigi was readying to prevent the conversation from coming to blows when noises began to filter out from inside. “What’s that?”

“Nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“Then you might need to get your ears checked, or does Marine insurance even cover that?”

Just then, the door on the other side of Law burst open, dozens of people piling out into the cold. Most of them were children of varying sizes—giant infants and toddlers alongside normal ones—as well as… shit… some Straw Hats… was she…?

The sight of his sister made his blood run cold.

“Law-nii…?!”

“Nami, you shouldn’t be here,” he scolded. Despite the warning, he nearly ran to her, bringing her into a tight hug as tears streamed down his face. Suddenly remembering their audience, he opened a Room and popped a coat off a Marine and onto her shoulders before stepping between her and the G-5 contingent.

“I thought you said no one was here,” Smoker deadpanned.

“This is a new development.”

“Anyhow; this makes things less troublesome.” Smoker looked at the others, narrowing his eyes critically. “Let’s get these kids inside! They shouldn’t be out in this weather!”

“…but we’re escaping!” one of the larger children insisted.

“We don’t know what you’re escaping from,” Tashigi said, “but we’re the good guys! We’re here to help, but we have to stay inside a little while longer so we can figure out what to do with you!” She then turned her attention back to her subordinates, who were all rightly very confused. “Come on—you heard the Vice Admiral! Get the kids back inside!”

Grumbling, the Marines all did as they were told, herding the children back inside. Law and the Straw Hats stood off to the side, the Surgeon of Death refusing to let go of his sister.

“Where in the hell did you all come from?” Law asked.

“We could ask the same, to be fair,” Franky mentioned. “Why are you here, Tra-bro?”

“Oi! Don’t lock us out!”

Just as the Marines were about to close the door, a large… alligator-centuar…? Yes, an alligator-centuar came skittering inside, with the remainder of the Straw Hats on his back.

“Hey guys! Look what we found!” Luffy cackled, holding up a pair of legs. Sanji held up a severed head, which seemed to sob in relief. “Oh, hey, you found the head! And Torao!”

“Strawhat-ya,” Law regarded flatly.

“Good; we’re missing no one,” Smoker said, coming over to the group. He stared at the torso-less body and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Was this your doing, Shichibukai?”

“Shichibukai?!” Nami gasped in horror. She began hitting Law on the shoulder, the too-long sleeves of her coat beating against him floppily. “Are?! You?! In?! Sane?!”

“Hey!” he grunted. “A lot has happened!”

“It still doesn’t change the fact you apparently cut a guy into three and spread the pieces,” Smoker said.

“He shouldn’t’ve been irritating,” Law shrugged. He watched as Luffy perched himself on Smoker’s shoulders—honest to goodness his sandals were on the man’s shoulders—and he raised an eyebrow. “You two sure are chummy.”

“It’s not mutual, I assure you,” Smoker grumbled. Tashigi saw what was going on and attempted to disengage Luffy, which only caused him to drape himself over Zoro’s shoulders instead, who barely seemed to register the extra weight.

“Smoker and Tashigi know Mom and Dad,” Nami said, keeping her eyes on the Marine officers. Law considered that, then nodded.

“So, then I trust that I can discuss freely with everyone here?”

“If you have a way to muffle sound, then that would help immensely,” Robin said, her attention more on the other Marines. Law put up a pair of Rooms, one just slightly bigger than the other. Smoker then added some of his smoke between them and it began to woosh around, creating a makeshift sound barrier. “Now then, what is it that you have to say?”

“I’m going to take down an Emperor,” Law said frankly, “and I’m going to do it in one of the most effective ways possible.” The others were quiet at the admission, waiting for him to elaborate.

“How do you propose that?” Usopp cringed. “We’re not talking small-fry here.”

“There’s a very specific pressure point that, if hit, can help take down at least Kaidou, maybe even destabilize enough to get Big Mom as well.”

“That sounds insane, Law-nii,” Nami frowned. “What ‘pressure point’ do you honestly think will be that effective at sabotaging a veteran pirate and pirating lord?”

Law stared directly into Nami’s eyes and took a deep breath. “Uncle Doffy.”

Nami’s jaw dropped as she realized what her brother was saying. Their uncle?! Was he insane?! Her crewmates noticed her shock and all glared at Law.

“We’ve never heard anything about you two having an uncle until now,” Luffy said. He was now on Franky’s shoulder, picking his own nose. “What’s all that about?”

“It’s a long story, but essentially,” Nami cringed, “we have the weirdest family and every even mildly weird family has a rich and eccentric uncle no one likes to talk about.”

“Ha!” Usopp couldn’t help but laugh awkwardly at that. “What, is he, like, a renegade Warlord or something?” Law and Nami both stared at him, which made the sniper shudder. “Oh no…”

“This is an issue,” Smoker stated. “We don’t have the authority to go after your uncle; from a Government standpoint, he is untouchable.”

“Well, then the rest of us can help take him down!” Luffy grinned. He draped one arm over Nami’s shoulders and the other over Law’s. “You can’t help who you’re related to sometimes, but that does mean it can be your business to stop them from doing bad stuff. Who is it?”

“Yeah!” Brook piped up. “We’ve all been so busy and bone-tired these past two years, we’ve rarely read the paper!”

“Whoever it is, Nami-swan, I’m sure we can help!”

“Really, Luffy, maybe I should go with my brothers once this is all done—wait, where are Bepo-nii and the goons?”

“Bepo is doing recon right now—I’m here to hit the flint and get sparks going.”

“Naaamiii, Toooraaaooo, who’s your uncle…?!”

“I just remembered,” Nami said briskly, “that I don’t think I ever told any of you my family name.”

“Isn’t it Trafalgar?” Chopper wondered. The rest of the Straw Hats were a mixture of curiosity, like Brook; confusion, like Zoro; intrigue, like Robin; and something close to fear out of Sanji.

“I’m not getting rid of my original family name,” Law explained. “My siblings—however—none of them had a family name before, so they technically have Dad’s.”

“Both of you are stalling,” Zoro scowled. Nami took a deep breath and exhaled… she could do this.

“My name is Donquixote Nami,” she grimaced, “and my uncle is the Shichibukai and current King of Dressrosa Donquixote Doflamingo, otherwise known to the black market and criminal underworld as Joker. He is my dad’s brother by blood as well as name.”

The Room went deathly quiet, everyone staring at Nami and Law until Luffy burst into laughter.

“Oh, is that all?” he chuckled. “I don’t like the sound of that guy anyhow. Let’s kick his ass!”

“He’s dumber than we thought, sir,” Tashigi marveled. Smoker simply facepalmed.

“It’s nice to hear you speak truthfully, Nami,” Robin smiled. She then glanced over her shoulder to see the children and the G-5 Marines getting on disturbingly well. “We still have some more pressing things to take care of, it seems.”

“The children being here is a big one,” Chopper noted. “They’re being experimented on! I don’t think that’s something that the World Government knows about.”

“Despite this being one of Vegapunk’s old facilities? I doubt,” Tashigi said. “This general area is known for child disappearances and deaths, though something tells me that by asking some of these kids question, we’re going to find plenty of answers.”

“We saw ships on our way in bearing the initials C.C.,” Smoker added. He looked at Law. “Is Cesar Clown here?”

“Along with a lab assistant named Monet possessing a Devil Fruit and a Marine vice admiral—”

“Pugio…?” Smoker and Tashigi both asked at once.

“Sounds like you weren’t here just to see me; I’m hurt,” Law joked flatly.

“Well, let’s get going,” Luffy grinned. “I’m hungry, and all our food is aboard the Sunny!”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was late that night as the Thousand Sunny sailed peacefully towards Dressrosa. Although there had been no sight of Vice Admiral Pugio despite his earlier presence, Monet had been quickly dispatched and Cesar Clown was unconscious and tied to the mast. Everyone had long finished dinner and had dispersed into their evening routines. Nami found her brother sulking by himself in the aquarium bar, his arm slung over the back of the bench as he rested his chin against it, staring into the tank.

“Hey.” He didn’t move. “So… there’s a lot to catch up on, isn’t there?”

“Not really.”

“We just spent two years without contact—before, it was only a few months at most.”

She sat down next to him and waited; there was only one true way to break through Law’s moody spells and that was patience. Eventually, he looked at her, bringing his arm down so that his head rested directly on the bench.

“I might have stolen Luffy from the Summit War and treated his injuries just so I could threaten him over your safety when he woke up,” he admitted.

“Okay… on-brand for you,” she chuckled. “I was on an artificial sky island called Weatheria learning about weather from these weird old men.”

“I stole the hearts of a hundred pirates to buy my way into the Shichibukai.”

“I was literally in possession of the only vagina on the island.” Law closed his eyes and smiled, trying poorly to not laugh. “What? You doubt me?”

“Exactly the opposite,” he smirked. He straightened in his seat and nodded as he looked at his sister in the wan aquarium light. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, dumbass.” She pulled her legs up, hugging them so she could rest her chin on her knees. “Bepo-nii’s really waiting for us in Dressrosa?”

“Yeah—he’s got the safehouse and an escape route all planned, on top of looking for the factory.”

“What about Peng-nii and Sach-nii?”

“They…” He trailed off, not knowing how to continue. “We… we fought… about a year ago now. I don’t know where they are.”

“What…?! What in the hell did you fight about?”

“They wanted to funnel information to Sengoku’s other son, saying it would be better to put military pressure on Uncle Doffy. I refused.”

“It was enough to break up over?”

“Yeah.” Law avoided eye contact, hoping it would help him keep his composure. “Our family is falling apart, Nami. Our older brothers are nowhere to be found, you were presumed dead for two years, no one’s heard hell or high water from Mom and Dad since they told off Dad’s dad—not even Nojiko’s gotten a letter from them…”

“Mom and Dad are missing?!”

“Yeah. I’ve been looking, but…” He shivered. “I don’t know if you, Nojiko, Bepo, and me are the only ones left. Up until today, I thought I only had one brother and one sister remaining.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I know from experience.”

“Law-nii, that was different. You are different.”

“I can’t remember my first family’s faces, you know.” It was quiet between them, only the aquarium making noise. “Every time I try to remember them, I think of our family instead. Mom and Dad… Nojiko… our brothers… it’s them I see… I try to think of my kid sister, but for some reason her hair is orange instead of brown…”

“Law-nii…”

“That’s why I have to do this,” he continued. “Uncle Doffy has fucked us up so irreparably that there’s nothing I can do except take him down. I can’t let him take the rest of you away… not when I’m so close.”

“If anyone should take him down, it’s Dad.”

“Yeah, except I was there when Dad had the chance—he almost died, Nami. Dad had him right there and couldn’t pull the trigger. He’s…” His voice grew quiet as he remembered that day. “…he’s not like him.”

“One’s a farmer and the other’s a criminal mastermind… it’s kind of obvious.” She leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. “I wonder what kind of a man Grandpapa Homing was like, if he turned out both Dad and Uncle Doffy.”

“Dad said he was kind and loving; very open-hearted. Uncle Doffy said he was weak, pathetic, and foolish.” He paused, unsure of how to continue. “Hey… uh… Nami…?”

“…yeah…?”

“Can you… do that thing Mom used to do?”

“Yeah.”

She took her weight off him and allowed her brother to shift so that his head was in her lap. Her one hand gently carded through his hair while the other rested on his neck, her thumb rubbing soft circles against the nape. She hummed a soft tune—a bawdy sailor’s shanty that was more lullaby than anything when slow and wordless, and let him melt into her touch. His whole body seemed to relax as she continued, going through the entire song before stopping.

“What are we going to do now?” she asked, voice quiet.

“Use Cesar Clown as bait and get our uncle in a position where I can strike him down.”

“You don’t have to do it alone.”

Silence.

“Remember Law-nii… you’re not alone.”

He didn’t answer her, for he was already lost in thought. The ship wasn’t far out from Dressrosa anymore and he was ready to put his plan into action… even if it killed him.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Sitting in the Royal Palace, surrounded by a lavish display of opulence and might, Doflamingo read over a report given to him by a sentry toy, rushed in as he finished up breakfast. From the looks of things, it appeared that he was going to get a visitor soon… fufufu… how fortuitous…

“Mank, Fahkon,” he said, a grin upon his lips. Two of the guards stepped forward—one bald and the other peroxide-blond, both with their employer’s signature sunglasses as the rest of their unit—and saluted. “It appears as though my favorite nephew is finally coming home to take his rightful spot at my side whether he realizes it or not. I want you to initiate Protocol Corazón. Now.”

“Yes, sir!” the men replied before leaving. Doflamingo looked back at the report, examining the photograph that had been included. It was Law on Punk Hazard, a security camera having caught him with a protective arm around a woman… hmm… not just any woman, but the Straw Hat’s navigator…

Oh, he was going to have fun with this.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Everything was going relatively smoothly, considering all the working parts of the plan. Doflamingo had gone and resigned his spot from the Shichibukai, publicly giving up his position as a Warlord. He called Law’s bluff and agreed to meet him on Green Bit, where there would be a trade-off involving handing Cesar directly over to Doflamingo while—unbeknownst to Joker—some of the others destroyed the SMILE factory.

Well, it would be if some other people would stick to the plan.

“I’m going to need you three to hang back while I make the exchange,” Law said. He and the rest of the Cesar Hand-Over Team were walking through the streets, nearly at Primula. Nami quickly appeared at his side, an unamused expression on her face.

“I did not give up being in the relative safety of the Sunny just to watch you go in alone,” she frowned.

“Nose-ya, I trust that you can control my sister should something come up?”

“If you think I can control Nami, then you’re even more insane than I thought,” Usopp shuddered. Robin chuckled quietly from her spot next to Cesar.

“Our Nami is fiercely protective of her own—no doubt a trait she picked up from her elder siblings.”

“I can’t believe you lot are the ones I have to suffer through,” Cesar grumbled. “Of all the upstart little shits, it had to be these upstart little shits.”

“Don’t get too fussy now, or Doflamingo’s going to get his favorite science bitch back in a bit rougher of shape than intended,” Law warned.

“That’s not nice,” Nami mentioned.

“It’s accurate.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s still not nice.”

“Isn’t this the fountain?” Robin asked. The group stopped and looked at the center of the neighborhood square—there was indeed a fountain, topped with what looked like a dancing woman. They checked the map just to confirm—without a doubt.

“So this is where Bepo-nii was going to meet up with us?” Nami frowned. “It looks more like a place for someone to meet a date.”

“Doesn’t matter; he should be here by now,” Law scowled. He checked the clock on a nearby building, with Robin and Usopp silently noting how similar the siblings’ facial expressions were. “He had explicit instructions.”

“You know the fuzzball than I do, and even I know that’s a pretty hard sell,” Nami deadpanned. Law sighed—his sister was right. “He was to establish our routes and meet us here—it was supposed to be a no-brainer. Leave it to the most neurotic of our brothers to screw up a no-brainer.”

“I’m sure he does his best,” Robin chuckled. She then saw a nervous-looking bear looking around the square and smiled. “I think he might be more on-time than we think.”

Just then, the bear caught sight of the group and tried not to rush towards them. While the bear’s fur was brown, there was no mistaking the tears in his eyes.

“I can’t believe it’s you, Gingersnap!” the bear sobbed, picking up Nami in a tight hug.

“You look… different…” Usopp said.

“It’s a disguise—nothing permanent,” Bepo explained. “Everything’s clear to the Green Bit bridge. It’s dangerous, but I think we can handle it. When I realized who you were bringing along, I instantly felt better!”

“Where is the rest of your crew?” Robin wondered.

“Safe; Bepo dropped them off at a secure location before coming here,” Law said. “Now… let’s get to Green Bit so we can get this over with.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Once recovered from the shock, ugly tears and snot ran down Luffy’s face as he hugged Sabo for the first time in a long time. He hugged so tightly that it was clear he didn’t want to let go, which made his brother chuckle.

“Ay! Wudduh yuh think yer doin’?!” Bartolomeo snarled. “Mistah Luffy needs t’concentrate before goin’ back out!”

“I’m going to handle that,” Sabo said. Luffy looked at him in bewilderment.

“…but…!”

“You just concentrate on helping out your crew take down Doflamingo—some of my associates are already en route.” Luffy blinked and Sabo chuckled. “They’re headed to King’s Plateau as we speak.”

“Where have you been?!”

“I hit my head so hard that I forgot everything we’d been through until very recently,” he admitted. “Now get those things off so you can go and Lucy can keep Ace’s legacy alive.”

Nodding deeply, Luffy took off his Lucy disguise and handed it to Sabo, who hugged him once more, leaving a kiss on top his head as though they were still kids.

“Your punches still like pistols?”

“You know it!”

“Then you won’t have any problem kicking Doflamingo’s ass—get going!”

“Alright! Help my brother, okay Chicken Guy?!” Luffy ran off, laughing through his tears as Sabo and Bartolomeo stared at one another, one amused and the other completely flabbergasted.

Doflamingo was going to be in for it.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

In her defense, Nami had done everything according to plan. She stayed back along with Usopp and Robin before they disappeared. After that, she even stayed hidden while Law had a pissing match with Doflamingo and Fujitora. She had completely followed along in her brother’s harebrained scheme, which he had promised was going to go off without a hitch.

So why, pray tell, was she locked up in a dungeon?!

“I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to this,” she muttered as she paced the cell. It was a simple design—stone walls, seastone bars, bed, sink, bucket—and yet there was a very complicated feel to the entire situation. Much of the crew was still in Dressrosa, that much was true, and there was the fact that Law was still alive. Doflamingo was truly a sadist; there was no way he’d let Law do something as simple as die without torturing him first. Bepo was also wandering around, but he just watched her get kidnapped, Law get shot, and a Marine Admiral summon a meteor from the sky—he was certain to need time to compose himself.

An explosion went off outside the palace that made Nami jump. Was she going to be trapped while the others fought on? What if she tried to escape? Waited for the others to get to her? Ugh… she really should have stayed on the Sunny when she had the chance…

Just then, she noticed a string slinking along the floor, coming into her cell. It began to swirl around and form a shape, which eventually solidified into the very image of Doflamingo, who smirked at her.

“Well, this is something,” the string-copy stated. It seemed to regard her carefully, as though she represented part of a puzzle he was interested in solving. “I don’t exactly understand: why is the Straw Hat brat part of this? He doesn’t seem smart enough to go through Law’s plans.”

“That’s the thing about Luffy,” Nami said coolly. “He keeps people on their toes.”

“Allies included?”

“Especially allies.”

“Then maybe this might be to my advantage after all,” the string copy mused. It had only a moment to ponder before the door to the cell block creaked open, at which it unraveled and reformed in the corridor. “Ah, Mank, Fahkon, I take it Protocol Corazón is functioning as planned?”

“Well as it’s going to go, sir,” the bald man said. “Mank and I have everything under control.”

The string copy gave pause. “If that’s the case, then why are you here?”

“We have a bit of unfinished business with the woman,” the blond replied. “I hope that’s alright by you.”

“Fufufu, but of course.” The string copy turned its pointer finger into a key and opened Nami’s cell door. She swallowed hard—this was not looking good.

“Much obliged.” The bald man drew the sword at his hip and looked at Nami, smirking casually. “Good to see you too, Gingersnap.”

Nami gasped as she watched the bald man swing his sword and slice Doflamingo’s copy in half, the entire thing falling limp into a pile of shredded string. She was taken aback as the pair took off their sunglasses and tossed them to the floor, revealing their faces in earnest.

It was honestly enough to make her cry. Mostly in frustration, but she couldn’t help the joy that went along with it.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Bepo was, admittedly, absolutely terrified.

He had only just barely slipped away from Uncle Doffy’s grasp when the exchange went sour. There was no sight of his brother or sister, and the Straw Hats had taken Cesar back into their custody at Law’s bequest and got the hell out of there. Nothing was going true to the plan and now he was running around the palace, attempting to find what was, at this point, Plan Q or R or something like that.

The royal palace was strangely quiet, as much of the fighting was going on outside. He poked his head inside a bunch of different rooms as he wandered the corridors, seeing the opulence and grandeur that his adoptive uncle surrounded himself in. It was such a far cry from the mikan farm that it was honestly jarring, though it also underscored the differences between the man who raised him and the one whom they were fighting. He could not imagine his parents wanting to raise him and his siblings there… to him, the fact there were never any visits was proof enough.

Finally, Bepo came across the Hall of Suits, noting how hollow and dark it was. He nearly passed it right up, but saw someone slumped down in one of the chairs… oh, shit… the chair with a heart for a back.

“Law-nii!” Bepo gasped. He ran to his brother and immediately began panicking at the sight of all his injuries. “Is that a gunshot wound?!”

“Bep, I need you to find the keys to these seastone cuffs,” Law grimaced. “He shot me like he shot Dad on Minion Island—if I don’t get access to my Devil Fruit soon, I’ll bleed out.”

That tidbit sent the Mink into full sobs. “Damn it! I’m so sorry, Law-nii! There’s nothing on the walls here and I don’t know where to look!”

“Just, look in the other rooms!”

“I already did!”

“Well, look again!”

“I’m not leaving my remaining brother’s side!”

“What the fuck do you mean by that?!”

Bepo looked over to see Nami running into the Hall of Suits along with two men he didn’t readily recognize. As they got closer, he caught a whiff of them, his expression turning hopeful.

“Peng-nii?! Sach-nii?!”

“The ones and only,” Penguin said. He reached into his blond coif and pulled out a hairpin, which he began to use to pick at the cuff’s locks.

“Where the fuck did you two come from?” Law groaned. “You look fucking ridiculous.”

“We look like the guys who are currently saving your ass,” Shachi fired back. “As if we were going to let you just get Fuzzball and Gingersnap in mortal peril without some backup! It’s completely irresponsible!”

“This was supposed to be little more than a suicide mission for me, that I was to complete alone,” Law said. The locks sprang open and the cuffs fell away. “If I succeeded, then great; if not, then only my life is on the line.” As he felt the Ope-Ope’s abilities come flooding back to him, nausea overcame him, leading to him leaning over the chair and vomiting sourly. He wiped his mouth with his coat sleeve and surrounded himself in a Room, attempting to patch himself up the best he could with the potential time allotted.

“Uh-huh, and you completely forgot that he’s our uncle too,” Nami scolded, tempted to use her Climatact to beat his thick skull until he got it. “We’re siblings—we can clean up our family mess together. We even have friends to help where we’d otherwise be stretched thin.”

“…but…!”

“No buts!” Nami leaned down and got in her brother’s face, poking him in the bit of chest not marred by a gunshot wound. “Don’t give me that shit! You might have been the only one of us to have lived with Uncle Doffy, but that doesn’t make you the only one responsible!”

“Yeah—we’re doing this together!” Penguin insisted. “What good are dumbass siblings if you can’t ask them for help?!”

“Or rope them into crazy-ass adventures?!” Shachi added.

“Fufufu… I can think of plenty.”

A chill settled over the siblings as someone new entered the hall. Doflamingo casually strolled in, his Haki oppressive as it beat down on the others.

“Stay away from him!” Penguin hissed. He brandished his staff while Shachi held a sword behind him. Nami and Bepo helped Law to his feet, his injuries thankfully subdued for the time being.

“Fufufu… look at my little nephews and niece,” Doflamingo chuckled. They all tensed at that. “I didn’t think nearly all of you would show up… Rosi certainly was… busy while away.”

“Don’t you dare talk about Dad that way, as if you didn’t try to kill him!” Law snapped. “If I hadn’t gotten there in time…! I…!”

“Yes, you certainly did change the course of events,” Doflamingo admitted. “Fahkon, Mank… the both of you? All this time? I’m impressed you were able to keep it together for this long. Did you plan on all of this before or after you joined my guard?”

“Fuck you,” Shachi spat. Doflamingo shrugged.

“No matter—Law, this is your last chance: you are the strongest of my brother’s brood, and I want you to do the smart thing and succeed him as the Corazón. You can do what he never could.”

“Why would I work for a piece of shit like you?”

“…because, I was hoping you were as sharp as I remember. Not a worry though—I have ways to make you see reason.” He lifted his hand and Law blanched.

“You guys need to get out of here,” he growled.

“We can’t leave you,” Penguin said. “We’ll take care of this jackass together.”

“No… I don’t think you understand,” Law replied, voice rising in panic. “All of you need to leave.”

“Which one, which one…” Doflamingo purred. He locked his sights on Nami and twitched his wrist so that his palm faced up, fingers still crooked. “You will do.”

In an instant, Nami’s shoulders jerked back, making her eyes go wide in panic. She tried to drop the Climatact, and couldn’t.

“Parasaito,” Doflamingo smirked. He watched as Nami’s body moved jaggedly before it settled into smoother motions, which made all his brother’s children panic.

“Try to hold still, Gingersnap,” Shachi said. “I might be able to cut the strings.”

“You can’t,” Law snapped. “There’s nothing to cut!”

“This has seastone in the steel—of course it can cut it!”

“Less bickering, more action!” Nami warned. She was beginning to spar with Penguin, who was just barely able to parry her blows without moving in to hurt her. “I don’t care how you do it as long as you don’t hurt me!”

Without a word, Bepo took the situation into his own claws and laid down atop Nami, putting just enough weight on her so that it was difficult for her to move or be moved. Doflamingo scowled as he attempted to pull on his niece’s strings, not getting anywhere.

“Well, that’s boring,” he hummed. “Maybe if I…”

Just then, glass shattered as someone burst through the window, Conqueror’s Haki at full-blast. Luffy took a swing at Doflamingo, raging at the Shichibukai. The siblings braced for an onslaught of broken glass, yet…

“Miss Nami! Youse guys! Ovah here!” They looked to see a barrier between them and the fighting, with Bartolomeo half in a door with his fingers crossed. “Let Mistah Luffy take care of it fer a while! Youse needs t’get yer strength back!” Not taking the opportunity for granted, they ran out of the Hall of Suits, Bepo carrying both Law and Nami.

“Who the hell are you?!” Law asked, attempting to completely ignore the fact he was hefted over his kid brother’s shoulder.

“Oh, I’m Bartolomeo, of the Barto Club! Mistah Luffy and the Straw Hats are mah heroes! There ain’t nevuh been a crew from the East good an’ bold as them! Not recently!”

“I told you we should have stopped back home for a bit,” Shachi snarked. Law pretended he didn’t hear him.

“I have’tuh admit, I didn’t think youse guys would be related to Miss Nami, bein’ Northern an’ all, but I’ve seen woise.”

“How could this be worse?” Penguin grimaced.

“Youse should see who dis oddah guy’s related to,” Bartolomeo chuckled. They rounded a bend and headed towards another corridor. “I mean, he an’ this dame show up with Mistah Luffy’s bruddah, and he says theys here to stop his brudduh from killings their kids! ‘Whose yer brudduh?’ I ask. Apparently, its the creep we’s just ran from! Uhhh… youse guys…?”

Bartolomeo watched as Penguin, Shachi, and Bepo all began to run faster, bursting into the hall ahead of him. They all froze as they saw the two people he had mentioned, casually standing over some freshly-defeated opponents.

“Mom…?” Shachi croaked.

“Dad…?” Penguin marveled. Bepo simply put down his other siblings, completely flabbergasted.

“Took you punks long enough,” Bell-mère smirked. She and Cora allowed their kids to run to them, giving them all tight hugs. “Been a bit—fuck, you’re all tall.”

“We hadn’t heard from you for so long!” Bepo sobbed. “What happened?! Did Uncle Doffy lock you up?!”

“I kind of told your grandfather off two years ago and since then we’re been Revolutionaries,” Cora explained. His kids all stared at him and he chuckled awkwardly.

“I, for one, want to know how you specifically haven’t died,” Nami snarked. “I don’t think you fixed being clumsy overnight.”

“Grauntie Tsuru really worked with me back in the day, okay?” Cora admitted.

“Now, how about we put off talking about Exploits Past for a bit so we can take care of this dry assfuck we call your uncle, eh kids?” Bell-mère asked, jabbing her thumb in the direction of the Hall of Suits. She looked at Bartolomeo, who was staring in slackjawed awe. “Oi, Barty.”

“Yes, Miss Bell-mère?”

“Time to earn your keep, kid. Go distract Mingo for us.”

“Anything fer you, ma’am!” Bartolomeo scuttled off, with Law and Nami groaning in unison soon as he was out of earshot.

“Where’d you pick this lunatic up?” she asked.

“That doesn’t matter,” Bell-mère said. “What does is that we have a plan to get the bastard right where we want him. He doesn’t know we’re here, which is a distinct advantage.”

Her kids all listened intently—with any luck, after this was done, Doflamingo’s existence was never going to hang over their heads ever again.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

When Law finally found where the fight had moved to, it was outside, under the harsh and blinding sun. As it was, it took a while for Bartolomeo to get Doflamingo away from Luffy long enough for Law to utilize the short window to cut in. Some razor strings had just bounced off a barrier the green-haired man put up when Law jumped into the fray, a large Room already up.

“Gamma Knife!” He was able to get a quick stab in Doflamingo’s side, causing the older man to cough up blood. Law quickly moved himself away from his uncle.

“Fuck…” Doflamingo hissed, clutching at his side. He glared at Law, teeth bared and temper wildly spinning out of control. “I took you in.”

“…to groom me into sacrificing my life for you,” Law replied. “You never cared about me past that. Cora-san is the one who cared.”

“Rosi was always soft, like Father,” the Warlord sneered. “I guess he would have been your grandfather, in a different world. Living with Rosi has turned you soft as him… all that time and energy I put into you… wasted.”

“Luffy… I need you to help Nami and our brothers fend off the lieutenants,” Law firmly requested.

“…but I want to help you kick this guy’s ass…”

“If he’s not done in fifteen minutes, then come back here, alright?”

“Not one second more, you hear?” Luffy insisted. He then followed the sound of a nearby explosion; Law and Doflamingo were now alone.

“Foolish move, boy,” Doflamingo stated flatly. “He’s got energy for days—you’re barely upright.”

“All I need is to get in one more shot,” Law chuckled. He watched as his uncle’s expression turn into a frown. “What…? Don’t like your odds?”

“I don’t like any of this,” he said. “You’re forcing my hand, making me kill my favorite nephew, for what? Guilt? Vengeance? Some twisted sense that you’ve decided to call morality? I should have killed you when I had the chance. Now be a good boy and die.”

At that, Doflamingo began to swipe at Law with strings, all near-misses as the younger man popped around the courtyard thanks to the Room. Each time he tried to get close, it was another attack of deadly string. Finally, Law landed another hit, twisting the Gamma Knife in Doflamingo’s side, only to collapse afterwards in exhaustion. He watched in horror as his uncle remained standing—it was impossible…

“My strings can stitch me up inside as well as out, you arrogant brat,” Doflamingo snarled. He stepped towards Law, who was visibly trembling. “Now I can stomp you out for good.” He lifted his foot and aimed…

…only to be stopped by his own brother’s foot getting in the way.

“Rosi…”

“Name’s Cora; the son you were about to hit gave me that name,” he replied. “Then again, I don’t really think you’d understand things done out of love, would you?”

“Fufufu… aren’t we a little bold for our britches?” Doflamingo chuckled. The two men jumped apart, moving away from Law. “Nice try surprising me; I have to admit that when I heard rumors of you being alive, I thought it was too good to be true. Then your boys went to sea and it was easy to piece everything together.”

“What gave it away?”

“The Heart Pirates, Alive Only—that windbag Sengoku’s the only one able to manage that as a favor to such an obedient little pet who gave us away to Tsuru all that time. Though I do have to admit, the girl’s a surprise. Have her by that Belle you were always pining over?” He clucked his tongue at that. “You became a father so young… and to potentially abandon your daughter at such a fragile age…”

“Like you think Father abandoned us?”

“To the wretched, common wolves, despite the fact we were born in the heavens. They denied us our birthright, so it’s now my right to watch the world suffer and burn.”

“…which makes it my right to stop you.” Just then, Bepo came silently lumbering into the courtyard, crouching down by Law in order to pick him up. Doflamingo drew the gun from his waistband and pointed it at the Mink, only for Cora to point one at him.

“Let them go; your beef’s with me.”

“Oh… nostalgic,” Doflamingo replied, turning his gun towards Cora. The other man’s hand trembled, aim shaky as he took the sound dampening off his youngest son.

“Go,” he said, not looking away from his brother. When he didn’t hear Bepo move, he cocked the barrel of the pistol. “Go, now; that is an order!” Bepo squeaked and scooped Law up in his arms, running away fast as he could. They were soon gone, though there was another explosion and a shishishi to be heard off in the distance. Without aplomb, Doflamingo fired a shot that his brother took in the chest, sending him to his knees.

That was when Cora grinned.

“We need to stop finding ourselves in situations like this, brother,” Doflamingo chuckled. “I thought I demonstrated the first time: you can’t shoot me. You can’t kill me. You are too much like Father.” He frowned as his brother’s smile did not fade away. “Are you that willing to die? Are you that willing to follow in his footsteps?”

“You are right about one thing, Brother,” Cora laughed weakly. “I am too much like Father—I can’t kill you.”

Doflamingo allowed the corners of his mouth to twitch up. Cora was not done, however, despite his labored breathing.

“You didn’t take into consideration one thing though,” he continued. His brother raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? What’s that?”

“My wife is nothing like Mother.”

Inhaling sharply, Doflamingo spun around on his heel, only to be met by Bell-mère pointing a gun directly between his eyes. She pulled the trigger before he could react, killing him point-blank with a spray of blood and brains. His body crumpled on the ground, lifeless and limp, broken and grotesque.

That was when everything changed.

The Birdcage overhead instantly vanished, the citizens sobbing as they dropped their weapons. What was left of the Donquixote Family began to panic and flee, heading directly into traps set by the Marines still there. Dressrosa erupted into joy once again, as they knew that they were finally free to live again as they once had.

“Mom! Dad!” The five siblings, having won their own fights, ran over to their parents, where Bell-mère was helping Cora stand. Law immediately ran a Scan on both of them, finding that there was nothing immediately life-threatening. He then collapsed in Cora’s arms, his energy completely spent.

“We did it,” he breathed. Tears began to stream down his face. “Fuck… we did it…”

“We did,” Bell-mère smiled. She and Cora shared a quick kiss, which made their kids all groan. “Oi; you’re all adults, for fuck’s sake.”

Parents were gross.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Tsuru had a giant headache and it was suspiciously Sengoku-shaped. Because, really, what the fuck was he anymore? Friend? Colleague? Comrade? The guy who keeps showing up? The not-Garp? Nika help her if she knew…

“What does the Inspector General do anyhow?” she asked as they readied to make port. “All you seem to do is wander around and cause trouble for the rest of us.” He munched casually on a cracker, thoughtful.

“I inspect things… generally…”

“You weren’t even assigned to inspect the corpse I have to transport, were you?”

“Nope!”

Then again, how was Tsuru to know what Sengoku’s plan was? He slipped away while her unit was all enamored with the Tontatta princess, making his way through the ruins of Dressrosa until, finally, he found the small house in a field of flowers, where they were…

…where his family was.

Suppressing his Haki, he sat out of sight as he felt the raucous environment just out of his reach. There was presumably the owner of the house, as well as some of the Straw Hats, and… his son, daughter-in-law, and five of his grandchildren. He knew that if he had any chance of meeting them, now would be it… and yet… he knew it was not his place to intrude.

“Are you going to come in or are you just going to lurk there like some sort of weirdo?”

Sengoku looked and saw the Straw Hat’s swordsman leaning against the door frame. He regraded him critically, as though he was unsure of the old man’s true intentions.

“Do I have any right? After it all?”

“That’s not for me to decide,” the swordsman said. He watched as Sengoku stood and, after the man hesitated, turned his attention back inside. “Oi, Kyros, got another chair?”

The whole house went quiet as Sengoku lingered by the doorway. He saw Cora towards the end of the table, mid-reach for his fork, with Bell-mère sitting next to him. Aside from the Straw Hats (the Straw Hat himself, of course, being the only one to keep eating as though nothing was happening), the young people he had only seen in bounty posters were sat all around the couple, looking as though they had paused some sort of petty squabble for him to enter.

“Cora…” he choked, voice suddenly gone. “You… you did it…”

There was no response, with instead tears welling in Sengoku’s eyes.

“You were a better man than I ever could have hoped to be… Cora…”

“Gramps, who are you?”

Everyone looked at Luffy, slackjawed as he simply ate away. Nami and Shachi both hit him on the head, causing lumps to comically form.

“That’s the Marine Fleet Admiral, you idiot!” Nami snapped.

“Former Marine Fleet Admiral,” Sengoku gently corrected. “I’ve been out of that game for a while now.”

“Then why are you here?” Cora asked. The tension was palpable as they waited for Sengoku to make a move…

…though they did not expect him to go to his knees.

“I am here to apologize,” he said, showing every bit his age. “Your lives were all much worse due to my actions, whether I thought I was acting for the good of the world or not, and…” He leaned forward and pressed his hands and forehead to the floor, prostrating completely. “…there is nothing I can do, nothing I can sacrifice, to undo what I did… to fully atone for what I did…”

“Ooohhh… this is really weird…” Usopp shuddered. He looked at his crewmates and friends to see that they were all zeroed in on Sengoku. Well, shit.

“…and I want to thank you especially, Nico Robin, for not only living, but accepting my family despite my connection towards them. You are all so much better than this old, worn-out husk.”

They all stayed like that for a while, no one moving as Sengoku knelt on the floor, putting himself at their mercy. Eventually, Robin got up from her seat and went to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I accepted Nami because she accepted me,” she explained. “She knew nothing of me and yet I was her friend. She knew everything of me and remained my friend. She knew very little of the extent of her grandfather’s actions and never let what she learned take away from what she built on her own. It’s easy to love someone like that, and just as difficult to hate.”

“R-Robin…” Nami wavered. The other woman pressed a finger to her lips with a smile.

“The sins of the father are not automatically the sins of the child, and despite this,” Robin told Sengoku, “your son has already bowed to me.”

Sengoku shuddered as he sucked in a breath, shame beating down upon him more than he ever thought imaginable. His tears fell directly onto the floor and the insides of his eyeglasses, only for a different pair of hands to touch his shoulder.

There was his boy, knelt next to him once again.

“Oi! Youse guys gotta get goin’!” Bartolomeo shouted as he burst in through the door. “Vice Admiral Tsuru’s been spotted talking to Issho! It could get bad!” He then noticed Sengoku, going completely pale. “Oh.. I… uh…”

“Shishishi—don’t worry, Chicken Guy,” Luffy smirked. “It’s just a family visit. Isn’t it nice that Nami is related to so many neat people? We’ve got so many extra-bonus-ally-friends that we even have them in the Marines!”

“…and to think that Sengoku isn’t the first one, either,” Kyros mused from his position in the corner. “You Straw Hats and Hearts certainly are an interesting group.”

Yeah… they’d take “interesting” any day.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

To stare down the world at sixteen and seventeen, it means you’re staring into a great abyss, unsure of what lies in store for you and yours. There is a certain form of both near-and-far-sightedness that plagues you, tricking the mind into finding substance amongst the wisps and whispers, far from what is actually lurking just out of reach. It’s an uneasy and frustrated feeling, yet one that needs weathering all the same.

To steel yourselves at sixteen and seventeen, it means making promises not meant to be kept and holding them to heart anyhow. It’s quiet letters and silent conversations; lying to others while staying open and honest in private, despite how much it hurts; counting down the days until you can see one another again, with each hour feeling like an eternity.

To be fully-vested soldiers at sixteen and seventeen, it means feeling a small part of you die every time you follow an order, knowing full-well that it could be worse. You could still be a cadet; you could still be a recruit; you could be demoted to chores; so little is justifiable, and yet, you keep going. Yes, sir. Right away, ma’am. You enable the machine that is slowly killing you, as it killed all your classmates’ souls… all your classmates but one…

To love someone else is dangerous, and you don’t know for whom until it’s too late.

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jodilin65 · 25 years ago

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MONDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 1999 I forgot to say that the day they were finishing up the carpet, we spied on the back, and it looked like people may now be in the house furthest from us (originally, I thought it might be the other way around). These houses and their immediate surroundings look like total dumps. There was a beat-up car outside with two adults sitting out front of the furthest house. I couldn’t get a make on their color/race being at a distance, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they were Mexicans. They may’ve been workers too, and not residents, but it’s still too soon for these renters to be problem enough to know better (till I torch their places). Still, I accept losing the bet, which I had misunderstood the terms of. The bet means I can’t get any dolls till May, not that I can’t get anything at all till June like I thought was the case.

Anyway, it was pretty funny how I insisted I could hear the neighbor’s music the day we pulled in while the carpet layers were there when it turned out it was coming from our own house! Funny, huh? Tom sure thought so. Yeah, the carpet people had a portable radio going.

Here’s something even funnier: I spend over a decade wishing I could keep a schedule, and now I can’t wait to get off of one! It’ll probably be another couple of weeks before I can.

Tom just went a little nuts in his sleep talking again and saying “I’ll check it out for you. I’m a skeptic. I can’t believe what you say.”

Later…

I really hope I don’t need to buy a third journal, but I doubt it. We should definitely be in by the time this one’s done, but boy let me tell ya - if we ain’t, we’re gonna be in court suing these people!

He talked with the well driller today, who says the well will be done this week. Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it. And what about APS and Gravity finishing his job?

He called the mail carrier and was told there are no mail services on our street, so we can either apply for a delivery extension, put our mailbox on Bitter Root, which is too far to walk to, or just keep our PO Box. We’ll probably just do a PO Box, and remember, now that I’m there, the area will build up quickly enough so our application for a delivery extension will be accepted. As it is now, though, there are not enough houses between us and the two rentals, but once there’s us, four rentals, plus houses across the street and to our right, an extension will be no problem.

I definitely want to check out the land to our right and in front. I want to find out who owns it and what the story with it is. It’s not for sale now that I know of, but give it 6-12 months and I’ll bet it will be.

At the trailer Sunday morning, we were locked in. I couldn’t get the damn door open. Tom loosened some screws and fixed the knob, though. While we were still trapped, he jokingly said, “It’s kind of scary being trapped in here with me, huh?”

I joked back saying, “Yeah, I’m afraid you might rape me.”

The night before this I nearly blinded myself in one eye with a clip that broke and flew into my eye. Miraculously, I had no bruising on the skin, but it did bruise a corner of my eyeball.

Since now’s the time to mail something and hope that Tom doesn’t find out about it, by having the front desk mail it, I’m gonna send the H’s a wacky letter. He still may find out about it if they suspect us, then contact Hilda to contact us about it, but I doubt it. If they do, they do, though. I’d still rather not hand an envelope addressed to them to Tom to mail, cuz he’ll only try to talk me out of it. Meanwhile, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, but if he does find out, then I’ll listen to him lecture me for an hour about it and I’ll deal with him being paranoid over it till 2005.

Later…

Last night I called the front desk about the room next door, but not to complain, since they weren’t that noisy and since it wouldn’t have done me any good if they were. I did it to see if I could find out when they’d be leaving. It sounded like the same guy who I complained to about that old crone on the 1st floor (we’re now on the end of the 2nd floor directly above our usual room) and I was surprised he gave me any info. He let me know they were leaving today, which eased my nerves. I didn’t think they’d leave after just one night. Someone’s door woke me up at 7:15, but I’m almost sure it wasn’t theirs, cuz fortunately, their door’s not right smack next to ours. It was probably the door across the hall or the outside stairway door. Unless they arrived late, no one was above us last night, cuz as is my habit lately, I call the surrounding rooms to see what’s empty and what’s not. So far, as far as I know, no one’s above or next door to us now (who cares about below), but someone’s across from us.

The maid called today wanting to know if we wanted our room cleaned. That was a stupid question. Why would we have our DO NOT DISTURB sign out if we did?

Later…

I’ve become sort of friendly with one of the girls at the front desk. She’s the one who helped me get my popcorn that got stuck in the vending machine. She smiled when she saw me earlier making popcorn and asked how long I was staying. I told her about our situation. I stopped by the front desk to chat some more with her just now when I went to get coffee when a man came in saying he needed four rooms. Four rooms! That’s a lot of fucking kids! Next door’s still empty but I’m sure some of them will be unloaded in there any sec.

Last night, for reasons I can only guess, a suite door was left with its door guard in place so anyone could walk right in just like I did. Their suites are identical to the one we were in at the La Quinta, only it was laid out differently. We’re in a regular room with two doubles, a dresser, and a table. This had a king with a table, dresser, couch, and micro/fridge. Since it was on this floor, I used its microwave. I also helped myself to some toiletries. I could’ve made free long-distance calls. However, there’s no one I care to call that’s long-distance.

Tom may be coming down with a cold. I hope not. It could just be exhaustion, though.

My trip to Melanie’s was a waste of time and gas, but at least I don’t have to go back for 8 weeks! The doctor didn’t even tighten the retainers. All he did was look at them and ask if they fit OK.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 1999 Back at the Fairfield till Wednesday. God’s up to one of his favorite obsessions concerning me - sticking kids next to me. I was in between CDs when I heard a kid scream and felt the vibration of its footsteps. I peeked out into the hall (this was just after he left for work) and saw a guy with a ton of luggage heading next door. I never actually saw any kids, so I couldn’t say how many are over there. He smiled at me and we went into our rooms. Thank God these walls are thicker than the apartment walls at the Vista, Crystal Creek, and the dive in Snottsdale! Although I’ve heard a few bumps and bangs, they haven’t been as noisy as I thought they’d be. The question is - will I be able to get up in the morning when I say so, or will I have to when they say so? No kid is gonna sleep till 8:30, and you know the parents won’t give a shit if they run around like crazy.

I’d like to say that they’ll be settling down for bed soon and gone for good in the morning, but I know better. One look at the amount of luggage they had told me they’d be here for more than one night. They’re not in the middle of their trip. Here is their final destination. If they were coming/going from some other state, they wouldn’t have that much luggage cuz you wouldn’t need so much for one night. They’ve come to visit someone in the area for at least a few days which is why they had so much crap. Besides, I know what God would have in store for me.

This is also not a very good sign of the “end times,” so to speak, signaling our final hotel stay. I still don’t see how the well could be done, along with APS’s job, and Gravity’s job of connecting the well/septic by Wednesday so we can be in by the 1st. Tom promises to hire new people, though, if they don’t stick to the contract.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1999 If Tom’s right, and if he’s not getting his hopes up for nothing, this will be the last night we sleep in the trailer. If gunshots don’t wake me up sooner than I’d like, then he will, but it’s OK.

The fucking idiots sent the well permit to our old address so that’s part of the reason for the delay. According to the way Tom’s figured things out between the well driller and APS, we should be in the house Wednesday.

The skirting is now on and it really makes the house look better.

Also, the carpet’s down. It’s darker than I thought; sort of like faded denim, but it’s better than brown. I like it.

I found yet more problems, and I’m telling you - there’s no fucking excuse for this! Those fucking goddamn lazy, half-assed Mexicans!

They installed the things for the outdoor lights crookedly, and the utility door handle does not fit right. There’s a large gap in the door.

We went over to the house after the girl and guy who did the carpet left, and we discussed clean-up and preparation jobs, as well as did a little work over there. When we can, I’m gonna sweep the floors and vacuum and he’s gonna wipe down the walls and counters of all their dust.

Today we set up the fridge, oven, and dishwasher, and peeled stickers off of things in the bathrooms. I also took down the curtains I plan to replace.

Anyway, I hope Tom’s not jumping the gun, cuz he’s got a room reserved for us for three nights at the Fairfield. Being there on a Friday night/Saturday morning was just as bad as I figured it’d be. I should’ve known too, that just because it started off quiet, it wouldn’t stay that way. Not once it got well past check-in time. They ended up pretty packed and the early morning door-slamming was pretty wild. I’m amazed they let me sleep till 8:30 like I did. Shortly afterward, we screwed.

There was nothing to say he wouldn’t or couldn’t cum, based on his actions, but then like usual, he had an excuse. A cramp in his back was the excuse of choice this time. Fine, but why make excuses, Tom? Just be yourself.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 1999 We decided to check into the Fairfield so we could take showers. It’ll also give me a break from being shaken awake. First he shook me awake, then I woke up just because, and then a fly landed on me and buzzed me awake just before 8:00. I couldn’t have slept much later anyway since the carpet people started their work.

We got here at 11:00 and we were supposed to be on the 2nd floor, the one with the lazy Mexican who doesn’t change sheets (this place has three floors), but the room wasn’t ready, so now we’re back on the 1st. This time, though, instead of being at the end of the hall by the exit door, we’re up in the middle by the lobby. The little laundry room is just across the hall. The laundry room where they wash sheets is across the hall, too. I thought it might be very noisy here. Especially with it being a Friday night, but it hasn’t been too bangy so far. Since it’s the Thanksgiving weekend and not a regular weekend, they may not be as booked up.

The room was really musty when we first came in, but Tom opened the window and we aired it out. I didn’t even know these windows opened.

He went to see his mom since he hasn’t seen her in a couple of weeks.

There was no alarm clock in here. Tom can get me up by 8:30 tomorrow if nothing beats him to it, but I thought it’d be nice to tell time, so I got one at the front desk. Oddly enough, there were no outlets behind the nightstand, so I plugged it in by this table I’m writing on.

I also had to hunt down the maid for a DO NOT DISTURB sign again, but I still like this place the best.

Later…

Tom’s still not back yet. I napped for about an hour, after a shower and doing a little load of laundry.

That musty smell returned, and I noticed the floor by the sink was damp, so I think there’s a leak somewhere. Yeah, I’m a magnet for leaks. We both are. I’m also good at sending out those infertility vibes too, cuz as it turns out, none of these mice were ever pregnant. How amazing too, seeing that they were in a cage with males.

Tom won our bet about it being quiet behind us, although he won by default. No one’s been over there as far as I can tell. Still, I won’t get anything till June. The bet was that I go without any more dolls and stuff like that for six months. I’ll keep my end of the bet, but I wish he’d quit lying and learn to keep his end of things when it came to sex! As you know, I no longer want a kid, but when the guy comes out and says he’s gonna cum regularly, this really burns me up. Not just cuz he’s lied about this before a zillion times, but cuz we don’t even screw regularly to begin with. How can he cum regularly when we don’t screw regularly? Again, part-time, cumless sex is fine 90% of the time, but why bullshit me about it? He is how he is, and like I said before, any guy supposedly unafraid to go to a doctor about it but doesn’t wants to be the way he is.

Later…

Tom got in shortly after I last wrote. With him were a birthday card and a check from Mom. It was a very pretty card, too. Bright and colorful.

The people next door are getting on my nerves and believe it or not, these aren’t kids either. They’re just as rude and immature, though. Totally childish, and fucking males! The filthy pigs always have to go about things in such a forceful, macho way. Maybe I shouldn’t talk, for I’m just as aggressive, but I guess that except for my husband (or else I’d be alone forever or having little flings with women), I’ll always be a die-hard sexist.

I was reading and Tom was napping when a cock, accompanied by his woman, knocked so fucking hard and loud on next door’s door. Poor Tom nearly fell out of bed and I myself nearly jumped through the ceiling. I thought for sure someone was knocking on our door, but it was next door. If he’d done it again I’d have really let him have it. Meanwhile, it appears to be an older couple staying in the room. I guess they recently checked in. I saw the old lady go across to the washer, and she’d gone back and forth slamming the door several times when I decided to take the matter up with the front desk. Unless he just said he talked to them, which very well could be the case, it’s had its usual effect - nothing. However, I don’t chew out or beat up old people in the way that I would with a younger person. Because it’s still early and because we don’t live here and because she’s old, I’ll let her annoy me by rudely slamming her door. If she isn’t finished with the laundry and the door-slamming by 10:00, then I’ll go directly to her, old or not. I could kick myself for going to the front desk, though. Why do I even bother? Why do I waste my time? Again, you got a problem with someone, you want results, you gotta go to them. Also, I still can’t figure out for the life of me why people can’t handle such simple, reasonable complaints without getting so damn hot and bothered. It’s just a door-slamming complaint. I’m not saying their family has to die nor am I requesting their execution. Everyone’s so damn sensitive. So you close your door a little quieter next time you go in and out - big fucking deal. What’s wrong with a little common courtesy?

Instead of complaining, I should’ve yanked all her clothes out of the washer when she went back into her room, but that probably would’ve led to more commotion from over there.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 1999 Signing in on a very boring Thanksgiving. There’s just nothing to do. Nothing to do, no place to go.

Tom got up a little before 11:00 last night and stayed in the car till morning so I could sleep without him shaking the trailer. Remember, we’ve got a total of four nights here. I slept in till 10:30. I know it may fuck up my schedule, but I really needed a day in my life to get up on my own. It’s been over four months now of waking up sooner than I planned to get up, or to the alarm. I can’t wait to take a break from early wake-up calls and alarms! Last night’s reason for waking up was that I was absolutely freezing! It sure does get colder out here, if not by much. Trying to heat a little flimsy trailer’s hard. It heats up quickly and well, but two minutes after the heat stops, it’s fucking freezing in here again!

I expected to hear a lot of gunfire this morning, but I didn’t. That’s the only other thing I don’t like for while we’re still in the trailer (we shouldn’t hear it in the house); the goddamn weekend gunshots. They hunt quails and shit like that in the mornings and late afternoons.

I’m not sure if anyone’s behind us or not. I heard a dog, which may’ve been a Doberman, barking from that direction, for a few minutes, but I was pretty sure the Doberman belonged to one of the workers. Unless it’s one of the workers moving in there, or the barks were coming from Dan’s or somewhere else.

The only thing I’ve heard so far, and it’s so soft that I can’t hear it inside the trailer with the windows open, so I sure as hell couldn’t hear it in the house. The house toward the front of us, actually, in front of next door, is playing a radio. Like I said, it’s so soft I can’t even make out what kind of music it is. It’s an old, baseless radio. All I hear is the faint beat of the drums and I can tell when the DJ is talking, too. Although this surprises me, since people aren’t supposed to want to draw attention to themselves out here, I’m not worried. It is a holiday, after all, and who knows? Maybe they’re renters.

I wish it would rain for a change. It hasn’t rained in months. I want to see what it’s like with water running down our washes. That oughta be so cool having a little river run by our house when it rains.

The house’s 6” thick walls and thermo-treated windows really insulate well. It finds a temperature average to maintain. It doesn’t get as warm as it is in the daytime or as cold as it is at night. It’s 55º in there lately. Our highs lately are 70º and our lows are 40º.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 1999 We stopped at the grocery store in Sun Lakes before coming to the land, which was pretty crowded being the day before Thanksgiving. If there’s anything I hate about old people, it’s that they drive too slow and rudely block isles in stores when they stop to gab with one another.

During the daylight, it was as quiet as usual, but with the onset of night, the dogs are beginning to stir up.

Tom and I made a bet. Since we know at least one of those trailers in back is now occupied, the holiday changes when the noise starts. If it weren’t for tomorrow being Thanksgiving, I’d say we were a week or two away from their antics/noise, but I guarantee it’ll be noisy over there tomorrow. I’m sure we’ll hear from next door and maybe Dan too, but in back, I bet Tom nothing for me for six months on their barking, screaming and music. Nothing for me, meaning no dolls or anything like that.

Nothing anyone around here can do can compare to how that Mexican household in Phoenix will be and I thank God I am not there to have to hear it. Man is it gonna be a circus over there! I hope the H’s are planning on trying to have a nice, quiet relaxing Thanksgiving cuz they ain’t getting it. I know everyone will go to the freeloaders’ and that they won’t go to someone else’s, and I know there’ll be music from the house and car stereos. Thank you, God, that I don’t have to be forced to be a part of it and listen to it for 12 hours.

The factory still hasn’t called us about outside steps, the globe, cleaning, or a final walk-through, and APS hasn’t been out. What else is new, huh? But the heat pump and carpet are finally being installed. The guy “says” he was putting it in today, but I don’t think he and his partner can do it today. I think they’ll have to come back Friday along with the carpet layers. They took our unwanted furnace out, by the way, too. As for the carpet, the padding’s down, but the carpet won’t be laid till Friday.

Actually, come to think of it, the dogs have been quieter lately. Maybe the colder weather has to do with it.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 1999 I’m doing a mini-load of laundry now.

About four days ago, the weather here turned rather wintry. It’s only making it up to the mid-60s, and even in the afternoon it’s nippy. Especially when it’s windy.

Tom called Hilda today and the idiot still doesn’t know where our well permit is. Tom reminded her that our first payment is due on the first, and he said her response to that was, “Then we have a week to get it done.”

Yeah, right! I’ll believe it when I see it. She also says Gravity’s gonna come out and connect the well to the septic once we ever get the damn thing, but this is even harder to believe.

In other areas of the house set up - Brian’s supposed to take care of the skirting, and someone’s supposed to lay the carpet this week.

Our storage bin’s coming out next Monday and the furniture will be delivered on the 30th.

Tom got a plug to fill in the drop-out in the electrical box and he called APS to tell them it’s ready for a meter, as well as an inspection.

We still have to get the washer, dryer, trash compactor, computer desk (for my office), entertainment center, and the project and animal tables. We discussed the possibility of building our own entertainment center since we like being creative and making things.

The kitchen sink has a spot where you can add either a hose spray or an instant hot water spigot. I think I’ll take the hot water. We also have to get a water softener, but we may not need a filter. That’ll depend on how it tastes.

As with most hotels and other businesses, they have fake plants around the lobby, which is usually deserted. I could easily swipe a couple of little ones, and I thought about it, but they’re not that great. Just green leaves. No colorful flowers.

Besides going to a drive-through and to Circle K, we made two stops.

We went to the trailer and house first, spying on the back houses first. What dumpy trailers these are. They’re double-wide, but according to George, only 40’ long.

There’s definitely still no one living in the furthest one yet, but there was a Doberman chained by it. It was there when the workers that are usually there were there, so maybe it’s one of theirs. What is it with people taking their dogs to work, anyway? Amazingly, though, not once did I hear it bark. Dogs do tend to be quieter out there during the daytime, though.

I took care of the animals while he took care of the plug, and even brought Scuttles to run around in the house. He didn’t explore that much, just made a few corner duties. I wish rats could be trained like cats to use little boxes. It’d be so cool to have them run around loose, but they’d chew everything up, of course.

At Walgreens, we got my meds and some toys. They replaced the Flovent with my old stuff - Vanceril. Well good, cuz the Flovent’s not very good. Got my Albuterol as usual too, and that’s it. I only have two things I take.

He got a yo-yo, and just like he said, he’s super good at it.

I got a pocket Simon game where you match color sequences. Also, a Barbie I’ve wanted for my collection for a while with a pink, satiny, glittery dress with a jagged hem. She has a pull-string with a pink plastic star on the end that you pull so she spins at the waist and makes bubbles with wands you clip to her wrists. I didn’t get it for this purpose, though. I just liked the dress. Besides, my fan can make bubbles a lot better than she can.

Later…

Gave Andy another hotel call. I’m not calling him too often cuz I don’t want to drive the poor guy crazy and possibly even into spending money he needs on getting his number changed. I doubt if he’d go to those extremes, though. Andy can certainly handle prank calls better than anyone I know. You’re talking about a phone addict here who loves to do the same thing.

I picked up and he was quiet for the first minute. Then, after a sigh of frustration, he did what I thought he’d have done by now - chewed disgustingly in my ear. I had the fan on, so I couldn’t tell if he was alone or not. All he said was “Don’t hang up. I know you want to hear me eat. This chocolate pudding is so good. I have chocolate swirl, too. Everyone loves chocolate. Everyone loves Raymond, too.” Then he hung up. No, I don’t know who Raymond is or if he even knows a Raymond. Bruce, though, might be the gay guy from Circle K. I’m not sure.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 1999 Saturday, when I was in the house, I saw a US West truck, plus some other worker’s truck in back. One was driving up as I approached the window, and I watched someone get out of the truck and shut the door and I never heard the door shut. It would have to be slammed hard while it was dead quiet to be heard in the house, but unfortunately, music doesn’t have to be all that loud to be heard just fine in the house.

Later that day, we noticed a small U-Haul back there, and from what we saw, someone had to have stayed there overnight Saturday night, but they were quiet. This is the house closest to us, I’m talking about. The one I’m pretty sure is where the single guy’s going. I wasn’t surprised they were quiet for two reasons. One - their dog’s not here yet. Two - I noticed that people usually wait till they get settled first, then a week or two after moving is when they draw attention to themselves and rub their presence in on the neighborhood.

A gray van I’d never seen before went by our house but I couldn’t see where they came from. I waved and they waved back. There were at least two people, and the passenger may’ve been a fat adult female. Couldn’t tell too well with the sun’s glare.

Saturday we checked out a road that we thought would take off a good 30 miles or so when going to Melanie, but it was in really shitty condition. However, the scenery was breathtakingly beautiful and made our land look dull. It had an awesome mountain view with tons of saguaros one way, then in the other direction, you could see a town far off in the distance. I’ll bet the distant lights at night are gorgeous. You can see that and beautiful mountains from our place too, but nothing like this. And we’re too low for saguaros to grow naturally, although they’ll be fine once we plant them. Saguaros occur in the higher desert. This area, though, wasn’t for sale, had treacherous roads, and no electricity around for miles.

We’re supposedly screwing sometime today, but I’m sure there’ll be some excuse to get out of it, or some problem with it if we do get around to it.

Later…

So, was I right about him having a mid-cycle excuse? Yup. He was too tired. Figures, huh? Well, I know I can’t conceive, but he obviously doesn’t, so from now on I’m gonna try to hide from him just where I am in my cycle so he doesn’t have to get all wound up for nothing. It’ll be easier to do once we get in the house, cuz he’ll seldom be in the bathroom I’ll be using, so I can hide pads and tampon wrappers easier. My cycle isn’t always predictable, but it’s close enough, even if I have erratic spotting at odd times.

I tested him earlier. He passed just like I knew he would, but even so, I still like testing people from time to time, even if I know what their reaction’s gonna be. I just like to see it periodically.

I said that maybe we could bring women into our sex life, and he seemed to truly be disinterested and he said he didn’t want that. He wanted me (just part-time, not that that’s not good enough for me). When I told him I was testing him, he said he thought I was testing to see what I could do. Hope, not at all. Women are fun to fantasize about, but ever since I met Tom, I’ve never had the desire to act on any fantasies. This sort of surprises me, despite how much I love Tom, but then again, love and lust are two different things, so I guess I really should be surprised. As I’ve said, sex is a tiny part of this relationship, as far as I’m concerned, and I love Tom way more than I lust for him. I’m glad this is how I feel, though, and wouldn’t be happy with someone I lusted for but did not love. That would’ve been fine in the past, but not now.

I have a lot to be grateful for. Not just that Tom doesn’t think with his dick, not just that I quit wanting a kid and don’t have the sexual drive I used to have, but that I am finally healthy and happy. I may still get tight at times, but look how long it’s been since I’ve had to go to the ER! God’s blessed us with a great house, nice stuff, and he’s finally allowed me to quit smoking and get on a schedule. If only he’d let me lose weight now! Well, he may choose not to help me with the hunger part of it, but I have to at least not eat. I have to face reality. I’m not in my 20s anymore and I never will be again, so I can only have a bite a day if I want my weight to be somewhat reasonable, and this is the way it’s always gonna be.

Tom got to the hotel right before 9:00 this morning and had me get him up at 1:00. We went to the trailer, and oh my God! Even in the middle of the afternoon, it was chilly as all hell and we had to run the heat for a while. It felt like late August-early September in New England.

The plug he got for the electrical box was the wrong size, so he’ll have to get another one. At least it didn’t cost even a buck.

He measured walls and windows for drapes and murals, and we worked on Jade some more. It wasn’t very easy. The legs set great, but stuffing the body was harder than it sounded, cuz we had to get things evened out and proportioned. I wonder if the cloth body, which is what you fill, is too big for this doll. There’s a lot of bunched material, so it looks like she’s got skinny legs with a fat ass. It doesn’t have to be perfect, though, cuz clothes cover the non-porcelain parts of dolls. We just have to get it close enough so her dress doesn’t appear to have a funny-shaped body underneath.

Hey, I didn’t write about my new cactus clock and paper. We went to a touristy Walgreen and I got a cactus clock, but they didn’t have the cactus plate I wanted as well. I got paper for letters to Paula with pretty watercolor splashes throughout it. I’ll keep a few sheets for myself too, and maybe use some for those lying control freaks in Florida. I still intend to mail them pictures once the house is set up, but I’ll have to use the back.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 1999 I thought I’d write and keep from getting overly behind, cuz I can’t focus on reading right now. Writing requires me to focus too, but in a different way.

It appears Gravity’s skipped out on us. I hope he knows this means he won’t be getting paid. Since Gravity won’t haul his blubber out and finish his job, Tom’s gonna get the plug for the electric box so we can have heat Wednesday night and sleep in the house for the first night ever (we’re now at the Fairfield for three days. Same room as last time)! We’ll be able to heat the place, but we’ll have to go to the trailer to the bathroom since the damn well’s still not drilled.

Brian strapped the house down with metal straps that attach to a 3’ pole that he slowly drills into the ground with some really cool tool.

Tom and I discussed plans for outside the house - where the pool will go, the deck, stuff we want to plant, and we even discussed getting a couple of horses. They stink and are more work to take care of than rats, mice and guinea pigs, but if it’s what we want, we can handle it. Tom’s quite an expert on horses, so I can learn from him just like he’s learned from me about things I know.

As I probably mentioned, I had begun growing my bangs out. However, it looked so geeky, so I cut my bangs back again earlier this evening.

I got another sitting music doll on the 19th (Stephanie) at the same store I got Melanie at. So far, I’m shocked to say it still works. We got it in an awesome grocery store in Sun Lakes. Sun Lakes and its stores are great, cuz just like with Sun City, it’s a retirement area, where everyone’s old, white and quiet. They just really annoy you with their 10 MPH driving speed.

Stephanie’s got auburn hair, blue eyes, and wears a blue and white dress with a touch of glitter. She has a white dove on her arm, too.

We began putting Jade together on Saturday. Saturday we wrapped the armature with plastic bags at the legs, then poured Durham’s rock hard inside the leg molds, then squeezed them on. We let it set overnight, but this morning, one leg was loose, so we reset it. Hopefully, we can stuff her up to her waist or so tomorrow, then set her arms.

Tom read a whole Dean Koontz book yesterday. One I bought and haven’t read yet.

He went down on me the day before and says we’ll screw tomorrow. And let me guess - he’ll be too scared to cum being where I’m at in my cycle, right? Good. There’s no sense in taking stupid risks.

I called Andy from the Southgate Hotel, and he said “Hello” in a calm, quiet voice. Then, in a more exasperated way, he said, “Bruce?” He let out a sigh of frustration at that point, then I hung up. This was the only call I gave him from that place, which turned out to be dead quiet. It wasn’t comfortable or convenient, though.

I called Andy three times tonight. He didn’t answer the first time, so I hung up on his machine. He answered the second time while I happened to be fiddling with the clock radio. “Your music sucks,” he said and hung up. I got his machine on the last call and it was perfect! What a funny, ironic coincidence that this God-obsessed guy got the message he got. I was just flipping to a religious station as the machine came on where a guy’s ending words of some speech were, “May God bless you.” He’ll love it! He’ll totally get a kick out of it, as well as a bit curious, I’d think.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1999 Gosh, it’s almost Friday already. We still have biweekly sex, although sometimes 3-4 weeks pass in between sex. I’m glad I’ve gotten used to this and I wish to hell I could know I’ll get used to the hunger once I begin dieting, but it never goes away. Not for me, it doesn’t. Anyway, whatever we do sex-wise, he won’t be squirting this time. Not with me close to mid-cycle and with his cumming just two weeks ago. It still strikes me as odd how God sees to it he doesn’t cum during mid-cycle, although he has a few times. That was quite some time ago, though. I know part of it is Tom himself, but if God can do anything, why put such effort into it and work at the timing and all that? I still say - why not just see to it that I need a hysterectomy? Why work at it needlessly?

Again, not a sound since we returned around 5:00. I let the housekeeper do her thing today, but she didn’t change our sheets. That’s OK. The stuck-on booger is way up by where the bed meets the headboard. We noticed this yesterday if this is really what it is.

APS finally came out today to do their thing, but once again, we’re waiting on fucking Gravity. He needs to get his ass out there and get the meter box up. I’m so damn sick of stupid incompetent little shits! One person says one thing while someone else says another, then Hilda says she doesn’t know who’s doing what. She doesn’t know? Then what the fuck is she in this business for? If she doesn’t know who’s doing what by now, she’s got a real problem. How many years has she been in this business? Well, I think it’s about time people start figuring out who’s doing what and do it! If Gravity wants his money and if people don’t want to get sued, they better get their asses in gear and us in that house by the 1st as the contract states.

One of the guys from APS, who has the same model we do, is in the process of suing Palm Harbor for similar problems we’ve got like with all the staples showing, the botched island trim job, the half-assed baseboard job in the entryway, and the crooked bar. Even Brian, who’s the only one who’s been dedicated so far, noticed the island trim, and he suggested I mention it during the final walk-through. Oh, I will. I’m not gonna necessarily have them fix things, cuz that’d just delay us from getting in there (we’ll fix their fuck-ups ourselves even though we shouldn’t have to. We paid them to do it) However, I am gonna point out these flaws to them. I understand no one and nothing is perfect, but this is a little overkill.

Also, why do people have to die that are associated with those working for us? First Gravity’s mother-in-law dies and now the carpet layer’s friend dies. The carpet would’ve been done today if the guy’s friend hadn’t been killed on a motorcycle. Hilda says it’d be no problem getting another carpet layer if she has to. Let’s hope not, although I still can’t understand why so many different people have to be involved. APS has to be APS, but why can’t Palm Harbor take care of their house’s setup as well? And the septic? We shouldn’t have bothered with separate contractors, but I guess it’s cuz we went through Steven and not Palm Harbor directly.

So we still need the septic filled in after it’s inspected. The electric box needs inspecting. We need carpet. And we need a fucking well, too. Where the hell is the well permit we should’ve gotten two weeks ago?

Again, I can’t wait to get into that house and away from people and their stupidity!!!

Our first stop of the day, after Tom got off work, of course, was to Home Bass. He couldn’t find the tool he needs for the rammed earth wall he wants to make. This is the one to keep loose dogs, coyotes, etc. out, and cut down sound, but we’ll still put up the barbed wire perimeter fence.

We looked at outdoor plants/trees, sheds, decorative light switches, and indoor/outdoor mats. Their indoor mats were a bore, but I got a nice flowery outdoor mat cut around the shape of the flowers.

We also went to Game Works and accumulated about 1400 tickets. Not enough for a 3000-ticket lightning lamp. So I got three 75-ticket velour bears and now I have a yellow one, an orange one, a red one, and a green one (they were out of purple ones) and I have a voucher for 1185 tickets. So, two more trips and we’ll have the lamp. It’s not nearly as cool as the lamp I saw at Home Bass, though, which was amazingly only $50. It’s a stick lamp that’s about 4’ high with water bubbling in it and it changes colors, too.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 1999 Just made my hotel call to Andy. I forgot to even bother the last time around. Actually, I gave him two hang-ups on his machine cuz he didn’t answer.

We’re at the Southgate Motel now rather than a hotel as they all seem to be booked. The Fairfield is booked and the Hampton is booked. Something’s obviously going on nearby.

This place, which is the most old-fashioned of all, with real keys/has its doors outdoors like at that dive in Scottsdale. There are stairs you go up and a little walkway that goes down by the rooms so you have an outside hallway. I expected it to be the noisiest, but so far, it’s actually the quietest. With the fan on, anyway. Maybe it’s cuz there’s no hall for door slamming to echo in.

The place doesn’t even have wall lamps. Their lamps sit right on the nightstands. We got a king-size bed on the 2nd floor (it only has two floors) and the bed is awful. The worst thing about the place (I’d rather that than noise). I’ll have to sleep on the pillows and make sure I get my exercise mat to sleep on when we go to the trailer tomorrow (we’re booked for two nights). The carpet is old, worn, and stained, but softer than usual. It also has a little refrigerator and microwave.

There were a couple of not-so-impressive postcards in here. I wrote one up for Paula, then decided it wasn’t worth the stamp just to jot her a few lines. I’ll send her a real letter with more than just five sentences. I made up the other one with gibberish for “Deb Fanny.” Tom agreed it was funny, but said it’d stir things up. I know he’s just being paranoid, but that’s OK. I won’t mail it. They’re not worth it.

Target was the first store we went to, and I got four awesome pails! They’re small-medium sized and are for both baths, the retreat, and my office. I got two that are like soap dispensers with floating objects in oil and water at the bottom. One’s frogs and pink water lilies in green oil. One’s fish in blue oil. One’s just clear plastic with flowers. One’s cartoonish with lots of bright colors.

Got another clothes hamper and a pretty aqua-colored washcloth, so now we’ve got three.

I looked at pictures, and although I did find some nice ones, no big desert ones yet.

Because I’m a woman of variety, the house won’t have any specific theme decoration-wise. I’ve got everything from a picture of a sexy Indian lady, a disco light, dolls, and another broken music box. Yeah, I just had to get the broken one today at Walgreens, and I swear - it was not broken when I bought it, and I did not handle it rough enough to break it. It’s a swan figurine of spun glass with a little pink flower and pink bow that sits on a rotating mirrored bass. Fortunately, though, it can be glued back in place and still look nice, even though a piece is missing (the swans broke free of the base). It’s not like I wanted to play its music, anyway. I just thought it’d make a nice decoration and I always liked these since the first time we saw them nearly a year ago.

Originally, I had planned on getting a cactus clock and cactus plate, but this Walgreens didn’t have them, so I got the musical swans and a four-pack of body mists. I should’ve gotten this $8 4-pack, rather than the one big $8 bottle. The scents are water lilies, sparkling strawberries, Hawaiian ginger, and turquoise seas.

We also stopped in Radio Shack where I found the perfect pair of headphones for my stereo for $50, rather than $100 like at Best Buy.

Later…

This is definitely the quietest place we’ve stayed at. Not one slam or bang.

Our third and final trip to Marie Callender’s was a disaster, and this time I mean it when I say I’ll never go to a restaurant again. Ever! Only drive-through places. It wasn’t only due to screaming, unruly kids, who had to run around the place like wild animals, either. The service was absolutely horrid. I feel guilty for the way I handled it too, but I just couldn’t imagine sitting there without uttering a word and keeping it bottled up. I had to speak out, be blunt, get to the point, and defend both my husband and myself. Mark my words, though - that waitress is extremely lucky I didn’t go in there in a foul mood to begin with or else I’d have kicked her ass to hell and back.

First the bitch claims they were having some sort of problem, so she asked for our credit card and has us pay before eating. Then, we ordered. I asked her to hold the extra sauce from my ribs and chicken, but then when she served me, I had the extra sauce. Also, she served me first. That was rude. Everyone should be served at the same time. So I reminded her that I asked that the extra sauce be held, and she kept insisting I couldn’t do that. When I told her I did it the other night, she said I didn’t have to get mad and that she’d fix it. I wasn’t “mad,” although I was reasonably frustrated at this point. She did fix it. But when she brought my fixed food, apologizing like hell, she also brought Tom’s burgers and fries. Well, the fuck of a cook apparently couldn’t handle my complaint and sabotaged his fries with way too much spice. It was loaded with chili pepper. This was obviously in response to my having my food sent back, but why the little shit botched his food and not mine, and why there was no problem returning a too-raw steak at Denny’s one time, beats me, cuz this fuck’s reaction was your classic reaction. So damn typical! Why is it so hard for someone to just redo something, and move on? Everyone’s gotta be so fucking sensitive and take everything so personally.

So the waitress returns to ask us how things are, we mention the fries, then she asks him to sign the credit card thing without even offering a discount like Denny’s did, and I’m like - whoa, whoa! How about one after all this shit? Then she said something about taking care of it, and I asked to speak to the manager. So the manager comes, we tell her the scoop, she says it’s an insult to accuse her cooks of sabotage, she says her cooks wouldn’t do that (yeah, they’re perfect little angels), and on and on and on. When I realized she’d just sit there and make excuses all night, I took the credit card and receipt to sign and said, “Look. Let me tell you bluntly how it’s gonna be. We’re not paying for this. Period.”

Meanwhile, Tom had momentarily pushed his plate away from him and I was under the impression he wasn’t gonna eat his burger. The manager claims she refunded us, it was over, and so we left. Well, we sure hope it’s over. Amazingly, the Siesta Suites didn’t rip us off, according to the statement we just got, but will they? This is why I hate these damn credit cards, as I told Tom. You may as well hand out blank checks to people so they can just help themselves to whatever they want.

Anyway, to wrap this story up, Tom was upset I bluntly refused to pay and that he didn’t get to eat his burger. He wanted to at least eat that, then argue over the bill. He said not to feel bad about it, but I do and from now on, whenever we have a problem with someone, I’ll just sit there with my mouth shut and let him handle it no matter how much my blood’s boiling. I’m so sick of people and their incompetence and the problems they cause. I can’t wait to hibernate in that house, away from people. People are such stupid assholes.

Oh, and the manager also tried to tell us they season all their fries. Uh-huh. Sure they do. Just like the first two times we were there, right?

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 1999 We’re back at the trailer now, and since being here, I’ve heard a vehicle drive by at least twice that I know of (yeah, they’ll be passing by more and more as they get closer to moving in). The last time I could’ve sworn I heard music. I know I heard music. I am gonna be made to be so miserable once these people get here till I put a stop to it. Why, God? Huh? Why do you insist I listen to others? You really will never let me live in peace, will you? It really is an impossible dream for me.

Anyway, Gravity’s fucked up on putting in our electric pole again. How many years of experience is this cock supposed to have? Naturally, I feel Tom’s being too nice about it. This man just can’t speak out and put his foot down to save his life, and whenever I’m upset with someone, he defends them.

These fucking “professionals” have a contract saying they have to be done by the 1st, but at the rate they’re going, we don’t stand a chance of getting in by then.

No one’s living behind us yet. I can tell this due to the lack of screaming and house music and I don’t hear any new barks yet, either. They won’t play their car stereo really, really loud, though, till they do move in.

Anyway, it’s obvious God wants me to survive, in the sense of the word, and I knew he wouldn’t ruin our lives by having us sell our house only to have the loan fall through and end up indefinitely homeless (or in apartments). But why oh why won’t he leave me the fuck alone with neighbor noise? Why is it so important to him that they be a part of my life? Is it compensation for not having to listen to a kid inside my own home for 18 years? What is it? Just what the fuck is it?

George said his supplies were stolen. He’s some type of engineer, I guess, who works on houses, and he says someone stole his carpet and tiles, but we think it was someone working for or with him that did it cuz he seems like he could be a read bold, arrogant little shit that someone would do that to.

How do I know the vehicles, especially the one with music, were in fact connected to behind us when I never saw them? I just do. Like I said, I know what God has in store for me. He wouldn’t let me live in peace in the middle of the fucking Arctic.

Tom says I’m a “skinny little thing.” Not at 122 pounds (we weighed ourselves on a scale in the store). Not according to the mirror. Yeah, I undid over a year’s worth of work in just a couple of weeks. I still can’t believe it shows in my face, neck and hips now too, and not just my stomach and thighs. My tits are 36-B. I’m no Dolly Parton, but I sure miss the little mosquito bites I used to have for boobs!

Well, if we can just get into the fucking house, I can start losing weight and toning up with a new home gym, but for now, I can cut down on the shit I’ve been having.

I also can’t wait to take a break from being on a schedule (can’t believe I’ve been on one for three months now!). I want to take a break from alarms and just get up whenever I wake up for a change. At least for a couple of weeks.

I’m gonna tear these pages out after I’ve typed them, then rebind the typed version in here. Meanwhile, rather than dump all this writing, I’ll send this to Paula.

There goes another vehicle. It’s true that they may not have turned down Meadow Green, much less been connected to in back, but it’s no shock to me we’ve got all these people moving in and I’m hearing more vehicles. Most of them have to be connected. Getting closer.

Tom reminded me that people out here don’t want to draw attention to themselves as they do in Phoenix, it’s a different lifestyle, the roads are too bad for a lot of company, and they’re too far out for a lot of company. He can say this all he wants, but these will be anything but rural folks. Maybe the family won’t do music (just barking and screaming, but the guy and his gal pal will certainly do it all. I’ll take care of them, though, trust me. This ain’t Phoenix no more. Here, there are no laws. You got a problem with someone - you shoot them. Unless Tom wants to sell off our property in chunks like George did so he never has to work again, I’m not moving. I’ll fight for my peace and home this time, even if I have to literally kill for it.

Later…

Now I’ll cover where we went today.

Poor Tom wasted time standing in line forever at the PO for that thing that was too big, which turned out to be a computer CD that was to the guy who had our box before us.

We went to K-Mart and Wal-Mart and got many of the household items we need, but we still need to get doormats, an extra hamper, and new pails for the offices and baths. Of course, his mom will be in the guest suite on weekends.

I still want to get a cushion for the car too, to boost me up to shield me from the sun better, and some for the blue chairs I’ll use in the retreat.

I’ve decided to wait on the murals and the big Angel Barbie. Yeah, they have this really cool huge Barbie I want to get someday.

I got those glass jar lamps I mentioned. A big one for the living room and two little ones for the retreat and office. One of the lampshades I picked out is a pink floral shade and the others are white. One has gold trim. I’ll put flowers in them.

I got a couple of bras and a beautiful velvet purple dress for only $10 that’s like a T-shirt dress. Freesia floral body mist, a couple of pairs of batteries, and more earplugs, I also got.

Got air and fabric fresheners and a new, bigger salt and pepper shaker set that’s nothing fancy. Just plain glass ones like in a restaurant.

I also got a dish/cup/glass/bowl/silverware set with a beautiful pansy design. Summer Blush, the theme’s called. I liked it better than the garden one. Got pink floral dish towels, too.

For the baths - can I ever get 20 things in a row without a problem? Every time I buy stuff, something’s got to be broken. I can’t get past buying 15-20 things without a problem. I got two cute soap dispensers for each bath with floating swans and ducks (the soap goes in a chamber below it) and one of them has a broken pump. Got a couple of toilet brushes, and since we rarely use washcloths, I got two new ones and four bath towels. We don’t bother with hand towels, so I didn’t get any. I got a purple and a pink washcloth. For towels, I got purple, pink, light pink and light blue.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 1999 I hope our house is being carpeted right now!

Anyway, things here continue to be quiet. Just a few door slams and hardly any people. Tonight might be different, though. There may be more people and more banging.

OK, here’s what I feel is a nasty vibe and what he feels is pure paranoia on my part. Yesterday morning, a little white pickup that I’ve seen drive by before pulled up between the house and trailer, which by the way, could fit our old house, the freeloaders’, and the collies between it. He introduced himself as George P., the guy who owns the 10 acres behind us. He said that he’s retired and bought several lots that he split up and rented. Yeah, you heard right - he’s renting the four lots in back. I move out in the middle of nowhere and I still have renters next to me to deal with! They may not be subsidized blacks or Mexicans that are three feet away, but tell me they’re not going to be noisy and I’ll tell you you’re full of shit! Tom says the worst thing they’ll do is trash their place, but I know better. If no car stereos are blasting in and out, which Tom says its electrical connectors couldn’t hold up to over these bumpy roads, then there’ll be loud music coming from their houses. And remember, they make even the dumpiest stereos so bassy nowadays, that it doesn’t even have to be “loud” to be heard in our house. Tom says we’re too far away for them to blast music loud enough for us to hear cuz it’d blow their eardrums out. No, it wouldn’t. Dogs bark loud enough for us to hear without blowing their owner’s eardrums out. Granted, they are outdoors, but that’s just the thing - I think they’ll have windows open and music playing from outside.

We know there’ll be dogs to listen to, cuz George told us one of the guys moving in is planning on getting a Retriever. Yeah, I’m sure he is.

He says he only has two of the four lots rented so far, and that he was gonna buy our lot too, to split and rent, but I guess something was on next door’s side. OK, great. God looks out for them, but who looks out for me? And I let George know just how I feel, too. He claims he’s gonna sell, but so what? It’s still too many damn people over there. That’s all the more dogs and people I have to listen to till we get a wall up, and even then, nothing blocks out the sound perfectly.

He says they’re moving in next week, and that one more house is to be brought in. So the house we thought was on the closest lot to us isn’t really the closest to us. There’s gonna be three houses running non-parallel to our land in the back, then one property behind the three properties. The front house, which I guess isn’t rented yet, may sort of buffer sounds from the two behind it, but still, I know they’re gonna be a problem. And I’m not gonna call George (he gave us his card) when the parties get out of hand. I’m not gonna be stupid enough to complain to him just so he can tell them to quiet down so they can get even noisier. I simply have to take care of this one myself, and I will. No more neighbors’ noise! I mean it! They’re not gonna force their noise and their lifestyles on me. I’ll be damned if I’ll put up with their shit, and I don’t care what color they are! I won’t stand for it out there in our new home! And I was a fool to think God was finally releasing me from his near-decade-long obsession with pummeling me with neighbor’s noise! Yeah well, this is it. It’s over! I’ll fight for my right to peace within the walls of my own home even if it means getting a gun and killing them all.

Tom says he’s 97% sure that all we’ll hear from them are dogs. Yeah, right! And pigs can fly. Well, I’ll shut them up ASAP. I’m not taking another 8 years of this fucking shit everywhere I go.

I reminded Tom that before we even bought the land I vibed it building up and getting noisy once we moved in. Well, these renters moving in are quite a coincidence so far, wouldn’t you say? Especially when I have an 80% accuracy rate.

I also reminded him that Dan was upset about all this too, and that had to be a reason. He said Dan would be worried about them not maintaining their place, not about them being noisy. If it were a case of them simply trashing the place - fine. Any trash that made it to our property would be barely noticeable what with how big it is, unlike with the filthy Mexicans in Phoenix.

George said that in the farthest house were three people. Two kids and one adult, I thought, cuz I saw two little boys head over there twice, but Tom thinks it’ll be one kid and two parents. In the middle will be a single guy with a girlfriend and this is the one I’m more worried about as far as music, parties, and vehicles coming and going, but Tom says he thinks it’ll be a guy like Dan.

Later…

I have more bitching I want to do about the problem coming behind us, but first, we went to Game Works again and I had fun playing skeeball again. Then I found the best ticket-spitting game I wish I had known about all along. It’s this needle that spins till you stop it, and you win the number of tickets it lands on. Of course, I missed the jackpot several times by one spot. I think most of these games are rigged like most slot machines are in casinos. Anyway, it was a lot of fun playing both games, although next time I’m just gonna play this spin thing and rake in the tickets so I can get more little velour teddy bears. This time, though, we set out to win 1000 tickets, and according to the guy at the prize counter, I had 1040 tickets, after we counted something like 850. Tom says they usually say you have more. I guess so. So, I got what I wanted most - a disco light. It’s really cool. Nice and colorful. I have it going now in our hotel room.

Later…

Changed my mind. For 600 tickets, I think I’ll get a lava lamp or one of those lights with purple streaks of light that look like lightning bolts.

I was pissed to find no one came to the house at all. No carpet layers, no APS, no well drillers - no one. Tom still believes we’ll be in the house by Thanksgiving. I wish, but that ain’t what I think! I think we have another 2-2½ weeks to go and that we won’t get in there till just after my b-day.

Now for the latest Andy news - I did get mail from him after all. I was wondering when he, or someone, was gonna forward mail to me. Someone other than Paula, Kim, or Bob.

It took me a few minutes to remember and unravel the mystery. When Tom came in he gave me an envelope with no return on it and I immediately recognized my own handwriting. I knew I didn’t send myself anything, though, and wondered if Tom was playing a joke on me, even though this didn’t seem to be his style. Then I remembered. When Andy went through all that bullshit talk about moving back east, I sent him font samples to pick out for letters and enclosed a SASE for him to mail me his selections back in. He never used that envelope, though. I never knew why he didn’t, and I never questioned it, but he used this envelope and enclosed one of my little sheets of paper with mumbo-jumbo on it. But what surprised me was - that was it? No writing or decorations on the envelope? No enclosing anything else, like a fuck you letter? He really does hate to write.

Tom said that it gets even weirder, cuz we’ve got mail waiting for us that’s too big for our box. At first I thought it was a CD from one of his computer clubs or something like that since I couldn’t imagine anyone I knew sending me something that big, but then Tom said he knew what it was - our house payment coupons.

I called Jamie at the doll store who said the dress wouldn’t be ready for another couple of weeks. That’s OK. She won’t be together for a few weeks yet, anyway.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 1999 We’re at my favorite hotel now - the Fairfield Inn. He just left for work and I’m finishing up the laundry here which sure beats Laundromats! We’re on the first floor for the first time, at the end of the hall. The washer/dryer is at the other end of the hall by the front desk, so I don’t have to lug the clothes up and down the elevator.

I decided that “mysterylin” has to go. If I’m gonna change cites and addresses, I may as well change screen names, too. This way I can unlock my mail controls when I want to without having to worry about hearing from anyone I don’t want to hear from. I thought of names like doll99, rodent99, but I think I’ll try for desertwinds99.

Later…

Laundry’s all done. So now I’ll cover what we did today, things about the house, then the bad news last.

After leaving the land, we stopped at Circle K in Maricopa for cookies for both of us, coffee for me, and soda for him. Then we went through a drive-through near the here, then came here. We came at 1:00 and were told no rooms would be available till 3:00, so we sat out front for a while browsing through truck ads. Only a few looked like they had any potential. We got machines or no answer on most of them, but there’s this one we may check out.

We went to K-Mart to look at household things we want for the house, but all I got, since the car and trailer are pretty packed and since I don’t want to put anything in the house till it’s carpeted, was a picture I didn’t expect to get. It’s a pretty good size for just $6, too. I was looking for desert cactus pictures, but instead, I came across a picture of a beautiful Indian woman (a copy of an oil painting).

For window treatments, we have flowers and crisscross lines in the master suite (bedroom, bath, and retreat). The den and living room have this very boring yellow and dark blue pattern, the kitchen has crisscross lines, and the other three bedrooms have stripes. The stripes are fairly colorful, and they can stay cuz I really don’t have to worry about them clashing with anything. The retreat’s flowers and crisscross designs can stay too, but the bedroom has to go. I want to get solid-colored drapes in there, so they won’t clash with the comforter. I want a white or cream-colored lace for the kitchen, and I’m not sure about the den and living room. The bathroom windows are frosted and they don’t open. Maybe I’ll take the flowers and crisscrosses that are in the master bath and put them in the den since all they really need is the lace valance under it. And maybe I’ll wrap my silk flower vine around the living room rod.

The lowest part of the ceiling is 7’ and the highest is 9’. I’ve got three walls picked out where there’s no slant above it where the wall/ceiling meets for mini-murals. I still may get borders too, but definitely not door murals.

I don’t exactly have a place to hang wind chimes yet so I sort of wish one of our ugly minute trees, which have a lot of bare branches, were near the house. I could hang them on that.

Perhaps it’s only normal, and perhaps it’s lazy stupid Mexicans and their sloppy workmanship, but we’ve been finding some imperfections with the house. The breakfast bar is tilted. Maybe it won’t show as much with stuff on it, though. Also, they put the dining room light switch in an odd place; on the back wall by the door. The fucking cocks did a sloppy, half-assed job with the trim on the bottom of the kitchen island, and only half a trim job in the entry area. The fourth bedroom’s door doesn’t close all the way and needs sanding. We have a lot of wall panel staples showing too, that we have to caulk.

Hopefully, the carpet will be down tomorrow. Then he can call Hilda to see if a cleaning crew is gonna go through there or what. I’d hope so cuz it’ll be a lot of cleaning to be done, but at the same time, I may as well do it myself to get in faster. We just want in!!! Even if that means tying up loose ends ourselves.

I’m getting a bit tired, so if I don’t get to the shitty news today, I will tomorrow. Tom says I have nothing to worry about other than typical dog-barking. God, I hope he’s right!!!!!

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 1999 Starting off on a sad note - Vanilla Belly died today. Tom told me he didn’t think he was acting right ever since moving here. All he seemed to me was a bit lazier, but I guess something was wrong all along and I just didn’t see it. Tom buried him in front of the trailer. I’m gonna really miss him. He was a bit shy but very loving. He was so big and I liked how he looked like your traditional brown rat, yet also had a touch of color. He had a sprinkle of white hairs besides a patch of what on his belly and chest.

He never appeared to have any tumors, and neither did/does Mocha, who seems to be dying, too. It’s the weirdest thing I ever saw. When I got her, she looked like a normal mouse who was pregnant, but now she doesn’t look pregnant at all, and her back legs look odd. Like they’ve been disjointed and are too long for her. It’s like they’re suddenly deformed and are sticking out at the hips too, making her look anorexic. Tom said he thought she looked like she was having trouble breathing. Yeah, I thought so too, but she is getting around. I’ve even seen her wheeling.

Today was a pretty leisurely day. I didn’t go anywhere for the first time in ages (it was dead quiet all day, and I heard very little after-dark barking), but he did. He went to get us some lunch and to get more gas. He also dug a hole behind the trailer to dump the shit tank in. It stunk, too!

Baby Scuttles is really growing. I want him to stay my cute little Scuttles, but I also want him to get fat enough for the other cage so he can’t squeeze through the bars.

Last night I slept with an earplug in. The foam kind that was pretty useless for me in the NHA, and it did great for blocking out his snoring, but he did wake me up a few times when he shook me awake by shaking the trailer when he’d toss and turn, then when he got up.

I never finished with all we did on Friday.

We went to a Chinese/American buffet, then to a close-out store next door. I bought an OK-fitting skirt for $5 and a shitty-fitting dress for $5. As Tom agreed, it wasn’t cut right, and that’s why it ended up at that store.

I got a bundle of purple flowers with a touch of yellow. I know the name of these flowers but forgot them. I’ve got to get some vases, though.

Tom picked up a cheap set of utensils and a small frying pan for making hot dogs.

Oh, I also got a couple of silver pin barrettes to hold my bangs to the side.

Later on, at the grocery store, I got a cute little musical doll which I named Melanie. It plays the Barbara Streisand song The Way We Were. It’s a sitting doll with a nice face for just $13. She has brown hair, green eyes, and wears a dress whose color is a cross between maroon and brown. She has white patterned stockings with cream-colored shoes. Her hair has two braids on each side of her head. As figures, though, her music box broke shortly after I got it. Such shit doll luck.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 1999 The dogs have settled in for another night of barking. Last night was the worst dog-barking night since we’ve been here. It began as the sun was setting, as usual, and continued on till around midnight. Some of the dogs sounded close enough to be loose and on our property, but we didn’t find any tracks. Maybe some were coming from next door. Having them live two football fields away isn’t always helpful when you’ve got nothing in between to buffer sounds, but we’ll get a wall up of some kind. At least it’s only for a few hours a day, and it sure beats noisy blacks and Mexicans with their fucking ball games and music blaring a few feet away.

No more Friday night stress! Normally, I’d be so stressed out at this time, knowing their company had to be mine too, but no more!

I hope these Mexicans are really dumping their shit on those greedy fucks that bought our house. They did send Hilda a bill, after all. The moochers wanted more than $250, but Hilda let them know that’s all they’re getting. I made Tom promise not to give them one more dime if they try to weasel more money out of us in a few months from now and to drive me to that house to deal with them in person. He agreed. He said he’s only giving them the money to avoid the hassle of having to go to court even though we know damn well we’d win cuz they never set up a final walk-through.

Well, they’ll hear from me one last time and that’s my promise. It just may not be for a while.

We think one of the reasons so many dogs suddenly start going off at sundown is cuz of the coyotes. Coyotes get more active and start howling when it gets dark. We were outside earlier and heard about three of them howling and it sounded so cool.

I’ve seen some wild horses in some of the really deserted pieces of land.

Tom says that the land in front of us isn’t part of this subdivision. It’s not part of an Indian reservation, but it could be some kind of government land. We’ll have to see if we can find out who owns the land in front and to our right and what their plans are.

It’ll be a shame when they tear down “psycho soldier’s” house. This is an abandoned single-wide trailer a few miles from here with military camouflage on it.

It’s a surprise just how many deserted houses there are out here. Also, there’s such a huge mix of nice houses and rundown ones. Mostly rundown ones, though, that are pretty old.

Tom said Maricopa must be a bit of a depressing town filled with broken dreams. This subdivision was somebody’s failed dream. The four or so acres of dead trees in the center of town are obviously someone’s dead dream. We’re not sure what the trees were and what they were supposed to do with them, though.

Speaking of my dream, which is to get moved into that house for once and for all, I’m finding little things I’m not too thrilled with, but I understand that nothing and no one’s perfect. The stupid Mexican left a globe off one of the lights. Also, Tom says he thinks Brian’s done a good job, but I feel like he’s been cutting corners and weaseling out of jobs like putting door handles on all the doors. We agreed we’d do these little things ourselves so we can get in there faster, like cover some of the wall board’s staples that are showing, but we shouldn’t have to. This should’ve been done already.

At least Brian’s leaving us some goodies. Wall strips, caulking, and odds and ends like that.

I marked my vibes on the calendar with Tom yesterday and some of them aren’t great. I vibe the carpet layer coming Monday and the electricity being taken care of by next Wednesday, but that fucking well, among other things, like inspections, could take longer than we’d like. Tom still thinks we can get in the house between the 20th-24th, before Thanksgiving, but I don’t think we’ll be in there till the 29th or 30th. Maybe even not till the first week of December, even though we have papers guaranteeing us that we’ll be in by December 1st.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 1999 Back at the trailer now till Sunday. I ended up enjoying my stay at the Fairfield Inn, even though last night was bangier than the first night. There were more people. Just for the hell of it, I called the room next door and told them to shut up. “You have the wrong number,” the cock was saying as I was hanging up.

Thank God housekeeping at the Harley in Enfield, CT wasn’t as it is out here. Out here, housekeeping’s nothing but Mexicans. No white people at all do hotel housekeeping.

Like an idiot, I slept till he came in at 10:00 and brought me a letter from Paula. It was a nice letter I was happy to get and I did write back, explaining all the events from when we left Phoenix till now. She enclosed two pictures. One of her son and one of her car. Like I really care? I mean, I’m glad she’s got a car and her son’s nice, but what about her? I’m just not meant to ever get a picture of her. She did, however, request my email address saying she wanted to send me pictures, so who knows? I let her know, though, that I won’t have access to the computer for a while yet.

She basically asked why she hadn’t heard from me. She enclosed a phone number, but I’m not gonna call. Nor am I gonna give her our cell phone number. I explained that we have to pay for incoming calls we get and that we ain’t that rich (although I’m sure we’re just about the richest people in Maricopa. One look at our house will tell you that much. Also, we made over $32,000 this year). I told her we probably won’t get regular phone service, even though in truth, I’m sure we will. I just don’t want to go back to the constant calls from her, even if she pays for them. I gave her our PO Box address.

Here we go again with the barking. Yeah, it’s been a bad dog night. There must’ve been a loose dog nearby cuz its barking sounded too close to have been coming from the nearest houses. I’ve heard barking coming from all different directions.

After leaving the hotel we went to Game Works again where we played that skeeball game again that I like and a couple of slot machine games, too. We won nearly 400 tickets and I got a yellow teddy bear, and a purple and a blue picture frame to go with my pink one.

We bought most of our furniture too, and I think I may’ve forgotten to write about the living room set we bought a few weeks ago. Both stores we got furniture from are gonna deliver to us, but before we knew this, Dennis, who’s so incredibly nice, offered to haul it here in this truck for us. He’s also gonna hunt really hard to find us a truck. Well, we certainly haven’t had any luck ourselves.

Anyway, the living room set I chose isn’t what I expected. It’s better. It’s a soft crushed velvet-like type of material. It’s solid black with gold trim. We got a couch, a loveseat, and a chair. Got three glass tables too, with gold and black. The tables we can fit in the car. The tables are tempered glass. Not the wood and light-colored floral fabric I planned on originally, but man is it gorgeous!

Got a beautiful gold spider lamp to go with it, and I almost bought this other really gorgeous lamp, but I decided to make my own instead. It had a mauve-colored shade with mauve-colored flowers in a glass bass, but I decided to get K-Mart’s glass jar lamps and put some of my own silk flowers in it.

We got two black stools for the breakfast bar and a black kitchen table with four black velvet chairs with gold and blue streaks throughout the sets and backs.

Instead of getting a tall dresser, a headboard, and two nightstands for the bedroom, I got one nightstand and a long dresser. These are whitewashed with gold trim. The nightstand has two drawers, and the dresser has a mirror.

Now all we need to get is a washer, dryer, entertainment center, computer desk, and a brown wooden nightstand to match the brown wooden dresser in the guest room, and a double bed for that room, too.

We’ve spent a total of $2,406.31 on furniture so far. Tom thinks we’re right on track, but I think we’re ahead of what we budgeted by $400-$600.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1999 This hotel is turning out to be the best. The only thing it lacks is a coffeemaker, but I don’t mind going downstairs for coffee. They have both decaf and regular to choose from, and they have French vanilla.

It’s been quiet overall. Just a few scattered door slams. Tom said the walls are wicked soundproof cuz as he was leaving for work last night he could hear next door’s TV blaring into the hall which we never heard in here.

Tom called at 8:00 and got me up, then he called again after he ate a half-hour later. He went to see his ma and do Mary’s threshold, then I headed down to the continental breakfast where there was only one person. There haven’t been many people here.

As I was heading out, I saw the younger Mexican girl who changed our sheets standing by her cart. I asked her in English for a Do Not Disturb sign since we never had one. I should’ve known better than to have asked in English, so I asked in Spanish and then she called out in Spanish to Mario, the maintenance guy as the old Mexican lady (the boss) that was with the younger one yesterday came up to me and said, “Yes?” I asked again for a sign and they gave me one. The older one then moved further down the hall and in Spanish I told the younger one we didn’t need service today as Mario and I were heading for the elevator. The older one called, “Senora? No servicio hoy?”

I replied, “No servicio, gracias,” then hopped into the elevator.

“Beautiful Spanish,” complimented Mario.

When I returned, the young one smiled at me with mixed emotions. It was cool that the white girl knew Spanish, but she had to have gotten a verbal warning, if not a written one, for not changing our sheets.

Although Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, and the like are notoriously lazy, I understand how easy it is for anyone to want to laze out of a bed or two. I know. I was once a housekeeper too, and here and there I didn’t bother changing sheets, but I was smart enough to at least pluck the hairs off first.

I dozed off for about an hour this morning, then when Tom came in at 10:00 and extended us for another night, we were given a bag of treats cuz of the sheets. This was a really nice gesture. It contained two small bottles of water, two bags of cookies, two Ritz crackers, two rice crispy bars, figs, and cheese crackers.

We headed for the house to take care of the animals and check the house’s progress. At least Brian’s making good time cuz Gravity’s not, and who knows when we’ll have a well.

My view from my “office” is really neat. I can see a row of about half a dozen palm trees off in the distance that’s a few miles away. Right now, there’s nothing but a little bit of natural desert and a lot of farmland in front of the house.

Here goes Tom talking in his sleep again. I couldn’t make out what he said this time.

We spent about a half-hour on the land where I ruined my sunglasses. They just weren’t dark enough, so I painted them purple, using the paint I used on the plastic suncatcher, hoping to darken them. Instead, all I did was make it too rippely so I couldn’t see well through them.

After we left, we went through a drive-through, came up here, and now he’s in bed. I’ll be listening to music and latch-hooking for the remainder of the day.

Later…

I guess it’s not gonna be very full tonight, either. I just went downstairs for coffee and I never passed a soul along the way.

Later…

Again I didn’t pass a soul.

I finished the second out of a 4-book series of V.C. Andrew’s. It’s a little series compared to the other two I read that had 5 books with 400 pages each. This 4-book series only has 150 pages each. Actually, there is a fifth book in this series (I don’t know how many pages), but it’s not due out till next month.

Tom finally received his yearly planner and pen from Ashton-Drake.

I forgot to describe the games we played yesterday. He played a basketball one, but it didn’t give tickets. Another game we played against each other, which also didn’t give tickets, was a mini bowling game thing. We played a slot machine-type game, and a Jet Ski race that you sit on and that shakes while you see an image of a jet water skier on a big screen in front of you. My favorite game was this thing where you throw balls down a narrow strip and up into these bins. Your points depend on which bins you get balls in.

Later…

Went downstairs and got an apple along with my coffee. They had the usual for breakfast - muffins and cereal. I think they had bagels and yogurt, too. This morning I grabbed a couple of mini chocolate chip muffins. I better enjoy all this eating now, cuz as soon as we get into that house, all this eating has to stop, and it will stop.

I’ve decided to place one call to Andy each time we’re in a hotel. I’ll leave hang-up messages when he doesn’t answer. He answered when I called him just now, but I hung up as soon as he did. I wasn’t in the mood tonight to hear anything he may’ve said. Having Tom right here kind of dampens my curiosity, too.

I wonder if Andy ever got the numbers I called from. I wonder if he’d have been confused getting numbers from the La Quinta, the Hampton, and here. Or maybe he figured we were in the house already (I never mentioned the layover) and that I wouldn’t be dumb enough to allow him to get my number. It’s quite amusing to think about, but I’m certainly not gonna be doing this in the house, even if I can block our number from there and even if it’s not long distance. This is strictly a hotel game.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 1999 Got my period today (a crampless one). Must be why he came yesterday. I doubt he’ll do that again till April. At least I can never get pregnant and have to lose my life! This is how much I know God is on my side too - he’ll make sure something comes up so we can’t even get together at “prime time,” rather than get together without cumming. My hormones are what I believe God used to ensure me a life of freedom. I really think my hormone levels are wacky somehow.

We’re now at the Fairfield Inn, which is quiet so far, and gives you candy, but is otherwise not very good. Those damn Mexicans. They just can’t do anything right. It was obvious our sheets hadn’t been changed. I could tell by all the hairs on the sheets. So I had them change it. We got a king-size bed just like last time at the Hampton.

Later…

It’s still been pretty quiet here; just a few door slams. I can’t believe hotel doors weren’t created to close quietly. You’d think they’d consider that.

OK, let me cover the day’s events before I get backed up again and end up having more than just one day to update.

We left right after Brian arrived to work on the house. We were inside it right before he came. It’s now joined enough that you can walk throughout the inside, but you have to step around screws and over rolls of carpet and other supplies.

After leaving, we ate at a drive-through, then Tom took us to Game Works. He still had about $15 left in games that he got through the bank. It was fun and we ended up getting nearly 180 tickets from games which we traded in for stuff. I got a few beaded necklaces, a picture frame with stringy, pink shiny crinkled paper around it, and a finger puzzle. I didn’t even know what that was, but he insisted I get it, then showed me how it worked. It’s a little tube of woven straw that you put a finger in, then pull on and get your finger stuck in. You have to sort of scrunch the tube together in order to get your finger out.

Tom slept for a few hours after we checked in here, then we went to Marie Calendar’s, and now he’s asleep again till I get him up at 11:00. Marie Callender’s is a huge restaurant. He got a burger and I got the baby-backed ribs/jumbo shrimp combo. It was pretty good.

Out of all the places we stayed, each has its pros and cons. I like how this place has coffee available in the lobby 24 hours a day. They even have laundry available. Although there was only one washer and one dryer, I was surprised to see them unused and without a ton of people waiting to use them. I’m sure that if I had wanted to use them, there’d be a ton of people trying to use them, too. Although the tub is shitty, cuz its back is straight up and down so you can’t comfortably lay back, this place has the best shower. Most places are too wimpy, but this one’s got a massager on it, so you can make it pretty hard.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 1999 Brian and a guy named Brandon came to level and join the house today. They were working everywhere; on the roof, underneath, inside.

When we were in the living room yesterday, we could see several other things besides rolls of carpet. There were extra roofing shingles, the air duct, etc.

It’s just so cool having a house custom-built like this! It’s such a neat feeling to be able to look at the house’s color and know that it’s that color cuz I chose it. There’s tulip wallpaper in the kitchen and baths cuz I chose it. The cabinets are whitewashed cuz I chose it.

The shower stalls are pretty neat. They have seats in them. But who wants to sit down while they’re showering? Maybe an old person.

We left the Hampton, which was noisier than it ever was before, at 10:30. We were right by the stairs which were where a lot of the noise came from. I was shocked at how many people used the stairs.

It’s amazing the contrast in Andy since I left Phoenix. People sure are different when they pissed at you. He told me so many times - I’m such a loser, Jodi. I have no life. Yet now he suddenly has a life. How convenient.

I wasn’t fat the last time he saw me, but now I’m fat and ugly.

Well, hopefully he can remember the good times, but if he doesn’t - he doesn’t and that’s just too bad for him.

I asked Tom what he thinks next door thinks about us moving in (they probably took a look at the size of the house and assumed we’re Mormons). He says they’re probably anxious and uncertain, now knowing what to expect. Good. Let some neighbor feel that way about us for a change. It’s about time the tables turned. It’ll be my turn to have those feelings again, though, the more things build up. Wait till all these little boys grow up to get loud car stereos and to have loud, wild parties while their parents are off vacationing somewhere.

He didn’t get to Mary’s today so we did the laundry in Tempe in a quiet place.

Tom had to pee so bad that we stopped at the AK-Chin casino cuz he didn’t think he could make it to the trailer. We gambled $10 each. He doubled his money and I lost mine, so it ended up costing nothing.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 1999 Gosh, I’m getting more and more backed up! We’re at the Hampton now (his pick), but actually, I’m here by myself cuz he’s at work.

Last Thursday night we stayed at the Holiday Inn, which was $20 more than the average hotel rate around here. It was the best-decorated hotel, with lots of cactus decorations, and it had laundry rooms but wasn’t worth the $20 extra in our opinion.

Friday we went to Casa Grande to get home insurance, then to a really nice buffet.

Sounds like it’s finally quieted down around here. This time around is not as quiet as the other times we were here.

We had our first visitor on our land that wasn’t a neighbor. A woman was doing a neighborhood census. She came knocking on the trailer door since it was more than obvious no one would be living in a house with two separate halves side by side with their inside sides covered with plastic.

Anyway, after Dan, the cowboy, and his Mexican assistant had been around a while, I finally got to meet Gravity. As Dan said - he’s a big boy. Maybe his mother knew somehow that he’d grow up to be so big and heavy and that’s why she named him Gravity. It suits him so well. He brought a Mexican assistant too, the other Mexican’s cousin.

Gravity had his tractor in tow, which he used to dig a trench and hole for our septic/pipes.

Unfortunately, we had to miss seeing the house be hauled in. They were just finishing up as we were pulling in, and I wasn’t too thrilled to see one of the drivers was letting his German Shepherd run around our property. I would’ve ordered it into the truck had they not left when they did. How rude. Not just because some of us are afraid of dogs, but because it’s rude to let your dog out to shit and piss on someone else’s property.

The cowboy had to return the next day to add the grounding rod to the utility pole they put by one corner of the house whose halves were within inches of each other. That’s to prevent people from having an easier way of stealing your appliances, even if that’d be so very unlikely to happen. The chances of that happening where we are are next to nil. Dan did say things weren’t very good a few years ago, though, and that bad people moved out of the area. I don’t know what he meant by “bad” people. I don’t know if he meant burglars or just plain old snobs. The people that are there now sure seem to be the direct opposite of Phoenix folks. So many people wave to us on certain dirt roads out there. Nobody waves in Phoenix. They’re too busy blasting music and slamming doors for people.

Tomorrow morning he’s gonna do our laundry at Mary’s while he visits his ma, then we’re gonna check out a truck for sale in Maricopa I had a hot vibe on.

I can’t wait to type this up on the computer, and as always, my typed versions may slightly differ from my written ones, as I change/add/delete things. I don’t usually delete, though.

I’m on my third V.C. Andrews series, and never before have I ever heard of such a repetitious writer! Everything that happens in one series happens in another, and talk about being loaded with childbirth! Yeah, babies, childbirth, and the like still seem to be everywhere, in everything I do, see, and hear. And I thought I was once obsessed with the subject! The shit’s invading my new home. Tom found an easy way into the back half through the utility door, and so I walk through the den, into the kitchen, and what do I see? A woman feeding a baby in a picture on an ad on the dishwasher! I’m like - Jesus Christ, here we go again! It’s everywhere, and I still get the feeling that God’s got some message behind it, but what hidden meaning could I be missing that’d make any sense?

I called Andy again, curious to hear what he may say. As always, I kept silent. I have nothing more to ever say. My final words were already mailed to him, and as he said, “You got what you wanted, I read it all.”

He was so mean to Michelle tonight. I don’t know if that was really Michelle I heard in the background or not, but either way, what a mean thing to say regarding her.

The first time I called, he picked up, said hello twice, then called out, “It’s Mystery. Wanna torture her?” (pause) “No, we don’t want to talk to you. We have a life.”

Yeah, a life of smoking pot.

The second time I called, no one answered.

The third time, he again asked whoever the girl was if she wanted to talk to Mystery, then he said, “Well, start chewing. You’re gonna be as fat as Michelle. You’re gonna have to share clothes with her.”

I don’t care if someone ranked on me for how I look, but most people do, so that’s why I was like - how mean to Michelle! Michelle, you got a damn good friend in Andy!

Sadly, I’m sure she thinks so, although I can’t forget or deny that Andy and I did have some fun times in the past.

Anyway, Gravity plowed the ground under where the house would be and made it read powdery. Then he put stakes marking the house’s corners.

When I was walking around the house with tears of joy and disbelief a couple of evenings ago, words from a decade ago popped into my head. Back in ‘89, shortly after I’d returned to Woodside Terrace, I cleaned houses for a guy a few different times. I think his name was Jim. He drove me to a house in…Chicopee? Wilbraham? Either way, it was a gorgeous house I’d only end up cleaning once since I couldn’t really hold jobs and handle responsibility in those days. I remember being very sad, and telling the woman who owned it how depressing it was to know I’d never have a nice house, too. Her response - “Someday you’ll have a house that’ll make this one look sick.

She was right. So very right. I never would’ve believed it in a million years. A house like what we got just seemed too impossible of a dream to even dare to dream.

How lucky I am to have all my dreams come true, and those that haven’t, aren’t dreams of mine anymore.

No blessing is free of flaws, though. The fucking Mexicans put dual faucets in the baths, rather than a single lever one, but Tom says it’s more likely that Steven fucked up the order, or we didn’t get that package in the end. Well, at least I got more counter space than I thought we’d get in the master bath. Also, you know how I opted for dual linen cabinets in there rather than dual sinks? Well, one of the cabinets is huge! And just like with the kitchen cabinets, they’ve got adjustable shelves.

Also, not only are the cabinets the whitewash I chose over the oak but so are the doors! They’re even brighter than the cabinets (white) and are so bright and cheery compared to dark wood.

I got more than I thought I would as far as the Catalina window treatments go. I got like five different designs instead of three, and they’re just too “clashy.” The den and living room ones are ugly with shades of yellow and dark blue, and I think they’ll clash with my other decorations, so I’ll probably remove most of them. I didn’t know they were gonna mix so much together. I didn’t know there’d be lines with flowers, and I didn’t know I’d have a wooden floral border in the bathroom above the windows. This may go too, but I love the white lace under it. Both baths have frosted windows, too. They don’t open, either. This is OK, though, cuz we have fans to vent moisture.

Yesterday, a guy whose name we forgot came to level one side of the house, which took all day. Tomorrow, he’s gonna do the other half and join them together, too.

It was pretty neat watching him move the back half away from the front a foot or two. He had hydraulic jacks and as he was cranking this cable, the house slowly moved. It was so funny too, cuz it looked like this bionic man was moving a 22,000-pound house half (I think the front half’s 20,000). Our 2100-square-foot house is about as big as they come. At 76’ long, it took forever to walk alongside it!

Anyway, the guy leveled the front half with a level and water level (a hose). He put metal, cone-shaped stands on top of square cement slabs. Two rows of 15. He left his trailer there, as he asked to, and we nosed about it after he quit work for the day. He had all different size stands, among other things. We’re gonna put skirting around the house since we chose to keep it elevated, but it doesn’t look that ugly without it.

We got here at around 11:00 this morning, but they didn’t have a room ready yet, so we checked out a nearby arts and crafts store where I got a latch hook kit with a piano and rose design, a “stain glass” floral sun catcher, and he got a rock tumbler. I might have fun playing with that myself. We have a lot of quartz rock on our land.

The stained glass thing is a sheet of clear plastic with raised lines outlining the flowers that you apply acrylic paints to, and glitter too, if you want, then hang it in a window. It’s pretty cool looking.

I thought Tom was gonna punish me by avoiding having sex this weekend, cuz I lost my appetite for it last weekend, thanks to the little animals at the La Quinta, but I was wrong. We not only screwed, but he got off. And I had laughed at him, saying I’d heard that before when he told me yesterday that our sex would be fine for making babies once we got into the house. I’m sure it would be for a man who came regularly and a woman who could conceive, and who was meant to conceive. But, not that I’m complaining, he probably won’t cum again this century, and I can’t and aren’t supposed to conceive. Not in this life, anyway.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 1999 I wasn’t really in the mood to write yesterday, but I am now, even if it doesn’t last long.

As I was saying about Dan - he says he knows most people around here and he too, isn’t happy that the lot behind us was split into four properties. He says there’s an older woman next door, her daughter, her daughter’s husband, and their 5-year-old son. The couple works in Casa Grande while the older woman watches the boy. The daughter had a fiancée die nearby in a car accident years ago.

Tom, who talked with Dan more than I did, said he was nosy and talkative, but at least he found out the phone prefix out here. The stupid phone company had the nerve to suggest we ask someone out here about prefixes after swearing they have our address in their records and telling us we’re in Stanfield, a little town nearby.

Anyway, Dan, who’s from Indiana, and who goes there during the summers, says next door watches his place while he’s gone, and that they’re nice people.

Where did all this friendliness come from? You mean, there really is such a thing as quiet and friendly neighbors in Arizona? Wow! Although I don’t know how quiet behind us will be once they get settled in. We’ve seen and heard two of the little boys that’ll be living there (why are there only little boys surrounding me?). Although we were too far away to tell for sure, I think they’re white, and I also heard a guy call out to a Matthew. Not a very Hispanic name.

Once they get settled in, though, as well as the rest of the people who are gonna be on that lot, I thank God they won’t be three feet away, cuz there’s gonna be a ton of screaming and barking coming from there. I know it.

We’ve seen quails, roadrunners, lizards, and about half a dozen coyotes. Tom’s seen a couple of jackrabbits, and earlier, when we were returning from Denny’s, our headlights picked up some furry rodent. Maybe a gopher? Fortunately, we have yet to see a snake here, but we did cross paths with what we’re pretty sure was a baby tarantula out on the road towards the back of the property. Tom stepped on it and killed it.

Dan says the high-pitched yipping we sometimes hear isn’t dogs - it’s coyotes. He says he has three dogs that are penned, cuz people here shoot loose dogs. Not fast enough, considering how many loose dogs we’ve seen. Since no one will take their dogs indoors out here, I wish they’d shoot any dog that was outdoors. I mentioned my not liking dogs cuz of their barking, and he said all you had to do was just get a good dog that doesn’t bark. I’m like, how? That’s what dogs do. Babies cry, cows moo, cats meow, and dogs bark. Some dogs may bark less than others, but there is no “good dog.” Not unless it was dead.

I’ve heard cows off in the distance towards the front. Cows make pleasant sounds, but they sure do stink! I hope this place doesn’t end up smelling like one big horse stall. Driving by these huge stockyards in Stanfield is miserable. Totally gross smelling.

God, I wish I had the computer to do all the writing I want to do! I miss it! At least I got to listen to my stereo today for a while.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 1999 It’s here! The house is here! But it came today, not yesterday. Yesterday was both a great day and a disappointing one. Tom was called at work by Hilda, who said the house was on its way. He woke me when he got in at 8:00, but no one showed up till around 9:00, and it wasn’t the house. It was Gravity’s assistants, who never did introduce themselves. They were nice, though. The driver, a middle-aged white guy, was accompanied by a young Mexican guy. He spoke virtually no English, so while the “cowboy,” as we call him, talked with Tom, Mr. Mexico and I gabbed in Spanish. He complimented my Spanish, which I was surprised at myself, considering how long it’s been since I used it regularly. Or at least a lot more than I do now. I taught him some English words. Maybe it was my imagination or maybe I’m just crazy, but I think the guy liked me. Don’t get me wrong. He was very polite and never once stepped out of line in any way, but I was like - I’m 33 years old, dude. Not to mention a good 20-25 pounds overweight. Couldn’t he see this? Although there are no laws saying you can’t be attracted to a middle-aged overweight person (even if no one else agrees with the overweight part). After the cowboy and his pal arrived, a middle-aged, skinny white guy pulled up alongside our property in a small white pickup, walked over to us with his hand extended, and introduced himself as our neighbor Dan. He lives alone in a single-wide modular diagonally to us. Behind next door (it figures that the childless guy has to be diagonal and not next to or behind us and I know damn well that whoever ends up next to us on the other side and in front will be anything but childless).

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 1999 It’s the eve of the house! It’s so hard to believe it’ll be here tomorrow. I just hope nothing goes wrong. We don’t need any incompetent fuck-ups working for us. As it is, we’re wondering things. Things like - why didn’t Palm Harbor check out what roads they’d be driving the house on? When are they gonna get trees and shit like that out of the way? They have to widen the road. The house is way too wide for it. Remember, most of these dirt roads out here only get a few cars a day on them. We’re so remote that we make Tammy seem like she’s in a little city. She can get to a store sooner than 20 minutes, and she doesn’t have 7 miles of dirt roads to drive on before she hits paved roads. Her nearest neighbors aren’t two football fields away, either. Aside from the few main 2-lane dirt roads, most of the dirt roads are single-lane roads that look more like large paths. Some of these roads are actually driveways leading to people’s houses.

Anyway, all I can do for now is hope everyone knows what they’re doing; the people driving the two house halves, Gravity and his crew, APS, the well driller, etc. It’s the damn well permit we’re waiting on. We may be able to get the house set up quickly with electricity and septic but be delayed from moving in cuz of the well, which will hold up the inspection.

They still have some standard procedures to go through too, before the house can be set up. They’ve got to level the land, clear away brush, and do a termite treatment.

I did some ant treatments today. God, I hate those ants! At least you can spot them from a distance, cuz they surround their holes with those weeds that have those stickers I hate. They peel off the little stickers and use those. I don’t know why they do this, but they haul pieces of it that are barely a quarter of an inch long and place them around their holes. I’ve seen them at work carrying the things. They have big black ants as well as little red ants.

I made myself a nice little walking trail that I not only get good exercise on but good color as well. I walk when it’s not too hot or too dark. I’d love to expand my little trail, but I can’t get by these washes too easily where the brush is too dense, and you just never know what creatures could be lurking in there. It’s still a good long trail, though. Way bigger than the perimeter of our Phoenix lot (these lots are numbered and we’re number 40).

At sundown, but while we still had enough light, I took him for a walk on the trail with me. He said he didn’t realize how far around we were going at such a bad time for snakes, and I was like, bad time for snakes?! He says snakes are out in the early mornings and early evenings and that they’re cold-blooded and cannot take heat or cold. Oh. I thought they were mostly out all through the night and were pretty much nocturnal like rats, but nope. Thank God one of us is a native and knows how this stuff works.

While we were out walking Tom said he saw them working on the houses behind us. I’m not looking forward to people moving in there! Not the people, but their dogs. A dogless household is so rare in Arizona and a dog that lives indoors is even rarer. Poor Gloria. She’s got to be going crazy with the two collies and the three dogs the people who bought our place have.

It’s still so weird that I don’t hear dogs here every night. That group of dogs that’s about a mile away were going off yesterday at dusk as we were leaving for our last night at the La Quinta, but not tonight. Tom mentioned the possibility of someone breeding greyhounds when we first heard it, and we saw one running around loose on our way into town earlier, but who knows for sure if what we heard really are greyhounds? No matter what they are, it’s nice not to hear them every evening, but I still wonder why we don’t. Just my inquisitive nature, I guess. Tom suggested it may have to do with the direction of the wind, but I doubt it. Those dogs were still loud enough and close enough to be heard even if the wind was blowing their barks away from us.

Tom refilled the trailer’s two propane tanks today and says we won’t have to empty the duty tank till we’re done with the trailer cuz it’s barely half full. That’s nice to know we don’t have to dig a hole every week to dump it. At first I was like - all this shit and we’re only half full? But we are only here a few days a week, after all.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 1999 The house should have a roof now! As Tom said, though, it would’ve been nice to see it moved from one spot to another.

The house is due on Thursday, but when are they gonna drill the well and septic?

Yesterday I finished a book and forgot to get another one from the trailer, so I bought one at K-Mart. I read 255 of its 290 pages.

After work today Tom will be at Mary’s playing car again. Just how much of our time and money will this cursed car eat up this time? It’s the water pump this time.

I got up at 8:00 when the alarm went off, made coffee in the microwave, then went to the lobby for a muffin. I returned to the room and ate it, then I let the front desk know that now would be a good time to send up housekeeping.

A woman and the supervisor, the same one that knocked yesterday, came up and were very friendly. I let them know that all I really wanted was the garbage emptied and the bed changed.

The housekeeper and I chatted a bit, and she too, left Phoenix cuz she was just as sick of everyone wanting to be on stage and in the spotlight. She too, got sick of always having to know what her neighbors were up to, like it or not.

I asked if they had lotion and the supervisor generously gave me three bottles and apologized for disturbing us yesterday. She said new people were just hired and they screwed up and had the room listed as a check-out, so she thought the room was empty. No problem, I told her.

I’ll write about my “free” breakfast later.

Later…

I expect it’ll be hours before he gets back, knowing how car jobs always turn out to be a bigger deal than expected before we go out to the land.

Yesterday was acceptable here - just a few scattered door slams. Hopefully, God will let our last day and night here be peaceful and will let me be the childless woman that I am. But with kids being made to be part of my life anyhow, you just never know.

This place is in Phoenix right on the Phoenix/Chandler border. No wonder the tightness and congestion are back. And we’re by a major freeway too, with lots of traffic to pollute the air.

I had $12 and change and went to the Cracker Barrel restaurant after the housekeepers left, and ordered breakfast. I ate that to the tune of babies crying (usual restaurant sound), then walked out without paying. I left $1.50 for the waitress’s tip, and I would’ve paid if someone had been available to take my check and money, but I was ignored long enough and decided to split. Naturally, Tom would be anything but thrilled to hear this, so I’ll just tell him I got a buck’s worth of junk from the vending machine. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. It’s nice of me to lie to him, in a sense, what with how paranoid he can get. I mean, why stress the guy out unnecessarily? I just hope he doesn’t suggest we go there later and have me end up accused in front of him, but I doubt I would. I’m sure there’d be different people later, and even if there weren’t, I wouldn’t be remembered. Most people don’t have as good of a memory as I do and that place is pretty packed, so I’m sure one walk-out every now and then wouldn’t even be noticed. Not unless the person left the check on the table.

I have news regarding Andy, but first I want to shower. I’m a grub.

Later…

I called Tom at Mary’s. Mary answered, sounding pleasant enough (I was surprised there wasn’t some hostility cuz of my getting upset with Evie). Tom was just finishing up with the car. Another surprise. I thought it’d take till 6:00. This time it ate about $50 of ours.

He’s on his way here. He suggested going through a drive-through which I happily agreed to, conveniently commenting on how sick of noisy restaurants I am. After we eat, we’ll head out to the land so I can feed the animals, and this time, remember to bring a book back with me.

Later…

Tom’s still not back. For now, I’m listening to next door slam its door, and I thought I heard a little kid over there, too. Figures, huh? Can I ever have just adults next to me?

I was surprised to learn that pets are allowed here. An old couple and their dog passed by me in the hall earlier, and I saw someone out walking dogs, too. Even Tom had said he saw people walking dogs.

Later…

That vicious, no-good rat Polar Bear decided to go for bite number two and got me on the knuckle. It bled and I put a Band-Aid on it. I swear, though, if it weren’t for Tom, I’d fucking kill that rat! Or better yet, I’d turn him loose in the desert for the coyotes and snakes. That rat just will not allow himself to be picked up unless it’s for moving/cage cleaning. And only after the others have been moved first. I bopped him a few times and yelled at him, and like I said, it’s only cuz of Tom’s pleading that I didn’t go any further. That and the fact that Vanilla Belly and Scuttles felt he deserved a little protection and jumped on him. Ratsy kind of acted like nothing was going on and he stayed on his wheel. Tom was going on and on about how he’s just an animal, he’s blind in one eye, it’s his nature to be aggressive, etc.

Then on our way back, we got held up in traffic for at least a half-hour (must’ve been something big going on). At least I remembered to bring something to read, and at least Gravity will be out to put the septic on Thursday when the house comes.

I wondered if the rat attack and the traffic jam were my punishment for the breakfast I stole this morning, but I don’t think so. It doesn’t seem harsh enough.

Anyway, APS was out at the land while we weren’t there, cuz we discovered stakes for poles they put in. So APS is on a roll, and the house and septic are on their way but will the well driller hold us up in any significant way? I kind of think so. I still feel we won’t be in that house till November 20th-29th. I hope I’m wrong for the better, though.

I had a hunch they’d mail guest’s mail and was right. I brought Bob’s letter to the front desk on my way to get a soda.

The stupid shits screwed up again today and had us down for checking-out today, and just like yesterday, our key cards expired at noon and we had to get them reprogrammed. I’m sure this had to do with us changing rooms, but either way, the service is “horrid” as Tom says. They’re totally incompetent here.

I decided that I may’ve been too forgiving in the past, but that I was being too non-forgiving with Evie. I left her a message and let her know that I was sorry I didn’t handle things well and that I understood I was being a bit immature. Also, I loved her too much to be in any hassles with her, and shouldn’t have been so selfish with my conditions. I could simply move stuff if any kids were visiting. Yes, she should’ve come to me first, and no, I won’t be so forgiving if she does something again that I don’t like, but she does have a right to discuss whatever she wants to with whomever she wants to whether or not I agree with it. Nonetheless, I hope we can get along from here on out without offending each other. I explained that we’ll be without computers for a while longer and why, then I gave her our PO box address and cell phone number.

When I told Tom about my message to Evie, he had an amused smile on his face, but what was so funny about it - I don’t know and I didn’t ask.

Wow! He’s actually snoring! A good 90% of the time he sleeps in hotels, though, he doesn’t snore for some strange reason. I wish he’d be this quiet in the trailer. And in the house, too. Then only his talking and his movements could wake me up, but he doesn’t talk that much. Not as much as he moves.

I’d have loved to have called the black bitch to see if I could get a reaction, and therefore a confirmation, that she did receive my mail. However, I couldn’t remember her damn number, and she probably would’ve been out at the time, anyway.

As for Andy - he read it all. At least that’s what he said, so maybe God did answer my prayers about that. I express myself best on paper, and I really wanted Andy, the blacks, and the Mexicans to “hear me out,” so to speak. That goes for the losers back east, too. When I’ve got something to say, I want people to listen to me in my writing. I think that the reason I prefer getting my point across in writing is that I can then edit a sentence easier if I decide I don’t quite like the way I worded it the first time around, and so I don’t get interrupted. Out of all the people I’ve had a heart-to-heart with upon moving, Doe, Art, and Larry would be the least likely to be such captivated readers. This is why I bluffed them. Hope the curiosity got to them!

Anyway, I knew Andy would be home, and wanted to see if he’d mention my mail or not. As it figured, he was on the phone for ages, so I left several hang-up messages on his machine. Sometimes I’d breathe heavily for the hell of it.

When he finally answered, I was surprised, not surprised, and baffled by what he had to say. I wasn’t surprised that he was angry and bitter and “counter-attacking” me, so to speak. He and Tom are similar in that they either accuse you of exactly what you accuse them of, or they accuse you of something, whether or not you’re guilty of it, for accusing them of something.

I was surprised that there wasn’t any trace of sadness in his voice, but hey, I dumped him. I didn’t die.

I was sort of surprised he was willing to stay on the phone as long as he did like he would with Quinn when they were having problems. I used to tell Andy he should just hang up right away on people he has trouble with and not bother giving them a second of his time, no matter how bored he is. As Andy always said, he doesn’t give up on people easily. He’s too forgiving, not that he’d forgive me any more than I’d want to resume our friendship. I just hope I haven’t upset any of his other friendships. Meaning, I hope he’s not afraid to continue his friendship with Michelle out of the paranoia that she’ll dump him.

There were two different phone calls, but of course, I never said a word. Not surprisingly, he knew it was me and said “Mystery, Mystery. You’re so bored. Such a schizophrenic, crazy loser, so bored, so bored.”

Why does he think a prank phone caller has to be bored in order to make prank phone calls? That may’ve been his case, but not mine, although I can sure get bored waiting for this house to be ready.

Then he said “You’re a phony, a fake, pretending to be my friend, and I believed it. Surprised I’m not eating? Should I get a Twinkie and continue this discussion? Everything you detest, you are. Just look in the mirror at that fat ugly face and you’ll see.” Then he hung up.

Everything I detest, I am? I don’t get that one.

When I called right back after he hung up, I wasn’t the least bit surprised to find him not answering the phone. He no doubt was seeing if he could get the number. Well, if he could, wait till he gets a hotel number, I thought. That ought to confuse him. He might now have had time to call here, though, in between my calls to him. He may not have found out where the calls came from till after our last chat.

In our last chat, he said, “If you have something to say, just say it. You wouldn’t be calling if you didn’t want to talk.”

Wrong. Very wrong, Andy. I wanted to hear you talk.

I grunted at one point, and he said, “Yeah, Jodi, I know it’s you, and you know I know it’s you, so let’s not play stupid games.”

He was getting frustrated on top of being angry by this time, then the confession came he said, “Well I obviously can’t be prank calling you now. I don’t even know your number. So if someone’s calling you now, don’t take it out on me.”

The ‘I obviously can’t be prank calling you now’ part totally confirmed my gut feeling that yes, it was him pranking us from time to time. Any innocent person would not have used that choice of words.

By this time I really was getting bored with him and hung up on him as he was saying, “What the fuck are you calling me for? You got what you want, you have no neighbors, you live alone, have no life…”

Live alone? I don’t think so! Have no life? He wishes! I have more of a life than ever before!

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 1999 We’re now on our way to see our new house!

I slept really well and got caught up on my sleep last night. We extended for another couple of nights. Hopefully, God won’t let any rowdy kids be placed next to me, but I won’t count on it.

Later…

I really oughta write before I get too backed up. I’ll finish with yesterday first.

When we checked in on the 4th floor yesterday, I had us moved to the 2nd floor shortly afterward due to kids running around screaming in the halls, knocking on doors, and slamming doors.

You don’t know how much I hate kids! I am so sick of them interfering with my day-to-day living. I can’t dine in a restaurant in peace, I can’t shop in peace, and I can’t even get a room in peace some of the time. There’s just no end to my being forced to deal with kids! I try to tell myself - at least they’re not inside your house, but still, I’m sick and tired of kids. Not that I’d have gotten very far, but I backed out of having in vitro for a reason. That reason was that I didn’t want kids to be a part of my life. I’m sick of living with blacks, Mexicans, and kids and I resent God’s forcing them on me. A person who doesn’t want kids should have the right to live without them and I wish to hell they’d have their own areas for them. They separate smokers from non-smokers in restaurants, so why can’t they have a section for kids? People want smoke-free areas, but what about scream-free areas?

Anyway, the room we were moved to is tolerable, but that doesn’t mean I won’t get stuck with the same shit next to me today or tomorrow.

My only other complaint about this place is, well, I thought DO NOT DISTURB meant exactly that. Why did a woman have to knock on the door and wake poor Tom up to ask if we wanted our room done when I put the fucking sign out? Well, now I’ll know it doesn’t do me any good to put it out if they’re just gonna knock anyway.

Anyway, this room is different than most hotel rooms, and even has a microwave and a mini-refrigerator!

The main part of the room is square, rather than a rectangle, and rather than two double beds, we’ve got a king-size bed. We can deal with that since he’s at work while I’m asleep. It not only has a big bed but it’s also got a love seat with a bed in it that folds out. Instead of the usual round table and two chairs most hotels have, we have a desk-like, rectangular table with a nice office chair.

All the pictures in here are right-side up. One of the pictures upstairs was upside down. Was the person who put it up actually that stupid? Or was it done as a joke?

We stopped at a drive-through before coming here yesterday and I got a kid’s meal cuz the adult portions tend to be too much. An interesting toy came with it. A toy car with wheels you rev up, then you set the car down and watch it take off. Tom says he loved playing with those as a kid, but I don’t remember anything like it.

Later…

Still not done with yesterday. Yesterday we walked to a nearby restaurant that was not what I expected. It had a gift shop with lots of dolls. They had nice faces and clothes and weren’t ridiculously priced. JBS Dolls are better, though.

I got shrimp, catfish, and steak fries which were excellent.

We left just before 9:00 today and although we arrived at Palm Harbor’s factory 20 minutes early, we only had to wait 5 minutes for the manager to give us a tour.

The tour was great. There was only one thing Tom wasn’t too happy with and one thing I wasn’t too happy with.

Tom wasn’t thrilled that they were putting in a furnace when all we wanted was a heat pump. He said he didn’t mention it cuz he didn’t want to risk the house being delayed and cuz it wouldn’t add to our costs.

I wasn’t too thrilled with having a Mexican-made house. There wasn’t one white person in there but the manager, but if they do the job right, other than installing a furnace we didn’t ask for, I guess it’s all right. I certainly can’t call these Mexicans welfare bums. They were rude as usual, though, staring us down.

It was nice to see they had some women there, too.

The house was further along than we expected, and Tom felt better seeing its guts. It’s one thing to be told something and another to see it. The house has 6” thick walls instead of 4” and will be packed well with insulation. I can see how well it’d cut down sound, compared to the brick house we used to have. It’ll also help with cooling/heating.

The house had its floors, walls, and some of its electrical work and plumbing. No windows or roof yet, but the roof, which was suspended nearby, was about to be placed on it after its paint dried.

It sure made me feel filthy rich and spoiled rotten to see our custom-made house being built by a total of 180 people within its assembly lines! A house I chose and designed, that nobody else has ever lived in.

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