#will look for this mystery thing on thursday when i’m home

[livvyofthelake]

jamie campbell bower is lowkey a subpar actor in here but like. that is literally fucking jace. he’s like exactly (exaggeration) how i’ve always pictured jace, and like certainly dominic sherwood doesn’t look nearly as much like jace as jamie does. like that’s JACE… 🫶 my friend from my books from seventh grade…

[slashbitch2]

The Proposal AU! (part one)

Summary: when your boss Agatha faces the threat of deportation, she convinces you to marry her in return for a promotion- and things only get more complicated with a trip to Salem, an eccentric tarot-card-reading aunt, and a homophobic mother to convince.

Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

TW: deportation (which I admit I know very little about I'm not American lol) suggestive themes, sort of arranged marriage

W.C: 1.3k words

PARTS: TWO, THREE

Agatha Harkness was a terrible boss. In the five years you had been working as her assistant, you had her schedule memorised, you constantly tried to anticipate her needs, and yet, she could barely remember your name. And that wasn’t the only flaw, oh no. There was the erratic behaviour, her quickness to anger, the fact that she always teetering the line between serious and sarcastic, so you could never quite tell whether she meant what she had said. Which would be your excuse if she attempted to criticise your response time to her latest question.

It's just… there was no way she was being serious… Right?

“I’m sorry. Could you repeat that last part, please?” You asked slowly, steadily lowering the file in your hands to pay full attention to Agatha. She was sat at her desk, looking up at you as though you were an idiot. So, like usual.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to get down on one knee.” Agatha scoffed, and when you didn’t respond, quirked an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“I’m just having a hard time comprehending what you’re asking of me.” You spluttered out.

She exhaled, clearly irritated. Then leant forwards over the desk and demanded, “Marry me,” punctuating each word with the intensity of her glare.

Under her scrutiny, you could feel your cheeks flushing. She never usually paid this much attention to you unless she needed something, which was rare. But this was too far. It had to be some kind of test surely. Of what, you weren’t sure. Loyalty? Dedication? Insanity?

After a beat of silence, you finally remembered to respond. “You’re insane.”  You folded your arms across your chest, still in disbelief that she would ever ask such a thing. You knew Agatha was unpredictable, dramatic, terrifying even, but never could you have imagined her saying such a thing on this unassuming Thursday afternoon. She never brought her personal life into work, and so why she would want to bring her work (aka you) into her home, her bed, well- it was a mystery.

Your cheeks grew redder at the image your mind conjured up. You and the boss, in bed, together.

The silence continued, and you summoned the resolve to look back at Agatha. She was staring up at you expectantly, and you realised that, despite your aghast reaction, she was still awaiting a response.

“No!” You exclaimed, mouth agape.

At this, her red lips stretched back into a malicious grin. “I wasn’t asking, dear.”

Something about her teasing smile and her mildly threatening words flustered you. “Well… you can’t make me.” You responded futilely. You knew she could. This was Agatha Harkness, after all. She could make anyone do anything.

And yet… “No, I can’t.” Agatha conceded with a simple shrug.

This caught you off guard. You frowned down at her, wondering if this was some form of reverse psychology.

“But what I can do is offer something in return.” Agatha winked, and if you weren’t flustered enough before, you certainly were now.

You took a moment to breathe. To calm the way your heart raced in your chest. You recognised the innuendo to her words, but knew the connotations likely lay in more entrepreneurial benefits. A promotion. A raise perhaps. The possibilities were endless, and all of them would help you to pay the rent. Now that, you couldn’t pass up on so easily.

“But why?” You asked, quieter, reluctant to admit to yourself that you were settling into the idea. “Why do you need to marry me?”

“Oh pfft,” Agatha waved a hand dismissively. “Not specifically you. This is nothing personal.”

“Oh great. That makes me feel so much better, thank you.” You snarked.

“Come on, you’re a clever girl.” Agatha narrowed her gaze, that teasing edge so easily returning to her tone. “You can figure it out.”

You paused to think, running through everything you knew about your boss. She lived alone, quite happily so, which ruled out any kind of breakdown. She was about ten years older than you, which meant this probably wasn’t a midlife crisis. But in terms of personal information, that was about all you knew. Agatha was a married to the job kind of woman, constantly in and out of meetings, often the last to leave the office. You had tried to outlast her one evening, but upon seeing the delivery guy arrive with enough food to survive the night, you had given up and headed home.

You pursed your lips thoughtfully, eyes briefly flickering about the office when an idea struck you.

“Earlier today…” You began, speaking cautiously slow. “You had a meeting scheduled with your immigration lawyer.”

“Atta girl.” Agatha leant back in her chair, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

“You’ve been putting off that meeting for weeks,” you continued.

“It didn’t seem important!”

“Well, I’m guessing your visa expired. And you panicked, because being deported would suck, so you lied and said you were engaged.”

“Bingo!” Agatha clapped her hands, as though this were some fun guessing game and not a huge life issue that would turn both your lives upside down. “Being deported would suck, as you so eloquently put it. I would lose my job, so god knows what would happen to you.” She pulled a face of mock concern, pointing a sharp finger in your direction. “And now all I need is some all-American idiot to get me that green card. Simple. Beneficial for us both, really.”

“No. Not simple. Not beneficial for us both.” You shook your head, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. “For one, with you gone I might actually get a normal boss.”

“And where’s the fun in that?” She quipped. “Plus, me being gone would certainly halt your progression up the ranks- and where would you ever find a better recommendation than from your boss turned wife, huh toots?”

Agatha was talking with such rationality that it was giving you a migraine. You pinched the bridge of your nose in an attempt to soothe it. “Please take a moment to think about this. I mean is it even allowed? The whole employer, employee relationship?”

“Oh, stop with your worrying. I wasn’t the one who hired you.”

“And you really can’t think of anyone else to do this?” You implored, though you were afraid you already knew the answer.

“I admit I didn’t give it much thought, but what’s the problem? You’re not dating anyone, your family are abroad so they won’t get involved in any of it-”

“How do you know all this?” You interrupted, frowning. Clearly your prior assumption that she didn’t give you the time of day was incorrect.

“I’m observant.” She deadpanned. “So, it’s settled, we’ll get married, live apart for a year, then when the immigration office determines I’m not a threat to the country, we’ll get an uncontested divorce with two of the finest lawyers’ money can buy. Breeze it through the law courts and never speak of it again. You get your promotion; I don’t have my whole life uprooted.”

You hummed noncommittally, finding yourself at a loss for words.

“Great, I’m taking that as a yes!” Agatha stood up abruptly, striding past you to grab her coat. “Let’s hit the road!”

“What? Both of us?”

“Of course. You’re my besotted fiancée and we’ve got a immigration officer to chat with!” Agatha nudged open the office door, storming through the building without another word. You simply stood and watched her go, her long navy coat flapping behind her, swishing back and forth with every step. You momentarily entertained the thought that it was a cloak- that she was secretly an evil witch in disguise as your boss.

It was the only reasonable conclusion from what you had just been roped into.

Groaning, you reluctantly followed your soon-to-be wife, trying desperately to ignore the churning anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

NEXT PART

Notes: ok I need to fess up I don't have much of a plan for this fic and uni work is kicking my ass so my time is v limited. But I've always wanted to write something following the vague plot of The Proposal- the film this is based off in case you can't tell.... so, hope you enjoyed :)

[roseharpermaxwell]

RWRB FirstPrince Roommates & Neighbors Recs - Part Two

Nothing like being Henry's roommate to send Alex on a bisexual awakening speedrun. Enjoy this selection below!

cross your thoughtless heart by kjbee81. G, 1k. It’s a normal, ordinary Tuesday when Alex finally has the realization. He isn’t really sure how it began or when it started, but one random Tuesday, when he’s at work, he finally notices. Henry has been packing him lunches.

each time we touch / i wanna take too much by @firenati0n. M, 1.3k. Alex puts his fingers in Henry's mouth.

did the light hit my blush (when i told you you could be enough?) by matherine. T, 1.4k. Henry wasn’t eavesdropping. Really, he wasn’t — he had just come home from work at the shelter early, toed off his shoes at the door, and began to settle in when he heard it.

“No, Nora,” Alex’s voice groans, floating out into the hall from where his bedroom door must be cracked open. “I can’t tell if he’s just not interested or oblivious. I’ve used my whole arsenal of flirting and Henry’s completely unresponsive.”

Or: Alex has been flirting for months. It’s not that Henry didn’t notice — it’s that he thought he couldn’t possibly mean it.

something new, something true by rizcriz. T, 1.7k. It’s Cassie in the library, Raul at the coffee shop, Emilio at the movie theater. It’s Nora and June at dinner on Thursday. It’s Ellen and Leo at brunch on Sunday. It’s knowing glances and furtive comments from bloody well everyone they know or come in contact with.

Everywhere Henry turns, it’s people looking between him and Alex like they know something they don’t. Like they’re seeing something that isn’t there. And he knows what it is. Knows what they’re thinking.

He didn’t, but he does now.

Everyone thinks Alex and Henry are dating.

It's hard to lie with water in my lungs by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf. M, 1.7k. Best friends Alex and Henry get caught in a storm on their way home, and once there, find themselves in an unexpected situation.

high expectations by rizcriz. T, 1.9k. Alex is lying in a bed, hooked up to a heart monitor, tubes sticking out of his arms. He looks like he’s gone through an entire ordeal, only, as soon as Henry walks through the door, his eyes go wide, and he’s grinning, a big, toothy smile, bits of cotton sticking out from the corners of his mouth, and sleepily slurring out something that sounds suspiciously like Henry’s name.

His gaze darts to the doctor.

Just as he’s about to ask, there’s a flutter of a movement, the racing sound of the heart monitor going crazy. He snaps his eyes over to look at the monitor—doesn’t understand anything other than the fact that Alex’s heart is going crazy enough to set off several alarms, the beeping quick and scary, and all the information Henry just forced upon himself comes racing to the forefront of his mind as he scurries further into the room, wide eyed and panicked. He looks between the doctor and the nurse, but they’re holding back smiles as they look at each other, barely paying any mind to the monitor.

I kissed a boy and I liked it by @gallifrey1sburning. T, 2k. Henry has no idea what the context would have even been to have spurred such a comment. He only heard it due to one of those mysterious moments that happen every so often in crowded rooms at the most inopportune times where the volume on all conversations inexplicably lowers simultaneously, allowing one statement that was most likely not intended for mass audiences to ring throughout a space. In this case, the somewhat offended sounding announcement of one Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry’s tragically heterosexual roommate and long unrequited crush:

“Of course I’ve kissed a guy before; I’m not homophobic. Jesus.”

Alex is a bit confused about the concept of allyship. Henry is possibly going to die.

kiss me once 'cause you know by @ninzied. T, 2.1k. Of all the things they’ve been to one another—sometimes-rivals, reluctant allies, tediously cordial seatmates at international events—Henry never thought that he and Alex would end up being something like friends.

(In which Alex sort of moves in and they don't talk about what it means.)

love don't by @smc-27. E, 2.4k. Alex calls the stupid advice podcast because he’s bored and out of ideas and he’s been trying his best, but Henry doesn’t seem to be feeling any better.

“My friend was seeing this guy for four months, and then just got straight up ghosted. What can I do to support him?”

The podcast host - a comedian most of the time - answers, “Oh, you’re gonna have to fuck him.”

you pull me in tight by @miss-minnelli. T, 2.5k. Tonight, they’re watching A New Hope, a compromise, since they spent half an hour bickering about episodes V and VI. Alex has his bare legs in Henry’s lap and Henry is gently rubbing his hand up and down Alex’s right shin.

It’s very possible Alex has died and gone to heaven, but he fucking hopes not, because this is actual bliss. Henry’s eyes are focused on the screen, smiling at something Luke is saying, but Alex hasn’t been watching the movie at all. He’s transfixed by Henry’s hand on his leg, ruffling his leg hair and stroking his ankle with each pass.

__

Or, Henry and Alex find each other after a bit of a detour.

until you're sick of me by rizcriz. T, 2.8k. Henry hasn't seen his roommate in nearly two months. Alex left for Austin shortly before Thanksgiving for two weeks, and Henry left for London the day before he was set to return. They’ve had the odd facetime call, and several hundred text messages to help them tide their time apart—but that didn’t take away from the fact that Henry fucking missed him.

And after three delayed flights, he’s finally standing outside their apartment door, and he’s resigned himself to the fact that it’ll still be several hours before he can finally see Alex again. He sighs and sets down his bag to dig out his keys, carefully tucks the key into the lock, and quietly opens the door, turning his back to it to pick up his carryon and grab his roller bag. As quietly as he can, he scoots backwards into the apartment, flinching as the roller bag bounces off the door frame.

bandage up your body and your bones and your bad days by @spiritsontheroof G, 2.9k. It’s been years, really, since he got that tell-tale pressure behind his eyes and ball of tension at the top of his spine. He pinches the bridge of his nose and when that doesn’t work, he reaches around to the back of his neck and presses right at his hairline, desperate for some kind of relief.

forehead kisses. by dreakawa. M, 3.2. Movie nights had become a weekly tradition for Alex and Henry.

As per usual, the movie Henry had chosen had Alex slowly dozing off next to him, his body relaxing onto the couch. He feels Henry grab the blanket and place it over him, and then-

Well, then, Henry’s fingers begin carding through his hair, and Alex doesn’t know what the fuck to do. It’s evident Henry doesn’t know he’s awake, but the touch feels… nice. Safe. Comforting in a way he didn’t realize he needed.

And then… well. And then.

Henry leans down and kisses his forehead, and his entire fucking world tips on its axis.

There’ll be time enough for countin’ when the dealin’s done by earth_to_alex16. T, 3.3k. Henry has a bad date.

Alex makes him a bet he can't refuse.

three seconds until the world ends by rizcriz. T, 3.3k. When Henry agreed to come with Alex to June and Nora’s for a party, he’d considered a million possibilities. Alex wandering off with someone and leaving Henry to fend for himself; June bringing out vodka jello shots (again) to try and get Henry to open up. Karaoke. A house full of strangers celebrating the New Year. Basically, the norm.

What he did not expect, however, was for June and Nora to decide that it was far too late, and Alex and Henry were far too drunk to go home when everyone else left at 3am.

Henry did not account for the singular guest room.

all i know since yesterday (is everything has changed) by saintsnames. G, 3.3k. henry and alex have been roommates for three and a half years when alex's girlfriend washes his sweatshirt in tide detergent and a realization unravels.

Red-Bull Lattes FTW by ItsMayBiTheWay. T, 3.4k. It was inadvisable. Alex knew it was inadvisable the first time he did it, and he knew it the second time he did it. By the third time he was so high on caffeine, his hands were shaking, but one might argue attending law school was inadvisable as well. So Red-Bull lattes it is.

After mainlining three Red-Bull lattes to survive the last of his law school final of the semester, Alex finds himself in the hospital, his asshole of a roommate by his side. Why the fuck is Henry there? And why things he’s hearing throwing his world off its axis.

It leads you here, despite your destination by @dreamsinthewitchouse. M, 3.5k. “So.” Alex unwinds his scarf and drapes it over the back of the couch, turning to Henry. “Welcome home.”

Home.

The word coils in Henry’s gut, a sugar-sweet spiral. “Thank you,” he says, not trusting his voice for more.

i need that charles dickens by @whimsymanaged. E, 3.6k. Henry’s flatmate (and crush) Alex is suddenly obsessed with Charles Dickens. But when Henry asks to borrow Alex’s Dickens, he quickly learns that Alex hasn’t, in fact, been talking about a book.

Every Time I Fold A Paper Crane by earth_to_alex16. T, 3.6k. The story of Alex and Henry's relationship as roommates, and the birthday card that changes it all.

love drunk, waiting on a miracle by gallifreyandglowclouds. E, 3.6k. Henry wears grey sweatpants. Alex reacts (in)appropriately.

there's one prize i'd cheat to win by @coffeecatsme. T, 3.6k. They’ve been roommates for eight years now, through Georgetown to New York, law school and grad school and ultimately their jobs, and Alex can’t imagine his life without Henry. Can’t imagine a world where he’s not in love with his best-friend-slash-roommate.

Too bad Henry has a boyfriend already.

Or, 5 times Alex is jealous over Henry's "boyfriend" and 1 time he realizes he doesn't have to be.

ocean blue eyes looking in mine (i feel like i might sink and drown and die) by coffeecatsme. T, 3.9k. It feels good. Henry’s touch feels good against his skin, and it’s not like when June hugs him so tight after not seeing him for days, not like when Nora bumps his shoulder or ruffles his hair and he wants her to get the fuck away. Not like when Henry has touched him a million times before, hands brushing as they walked, platonic cuddles during movie nights, hands on his elbow and his wrist and his chin whenever there’s a bit of chocolate on the corner of his lips or he needs someone to steady him. It’s too warm, too solid, peeling off layers of his skin until Alex kind of wants to check if somehow his internal organs are exposed, except he doesn’t because he’s worried Henry will stop if he moves and he…

Fucking hell, he doesn’t want Henry to stop, does he?

Alex finds himself in Henry's arms after a night of drinking and realizes some things.

In the teeth of strong opposition by @clottedcreamfudge. E, 4k. "You know what?" Henry says loudly, annoyed beyond belief that he has to hear for the millionth time how fucking cool Alex is with Henry's sexuality. "If you're such a good ally, why don't you suck me off? Since you're so insistent, why not get on your knees, Alex?"

He regrets the words as soon as he says them, but it's not like he can shove them back into his mouth; he can't take them back. He closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see the shocked expression on Alex's face and takes a few deep breaths.

"Sorry," he says tightly a moment later, eyes still closed. "That was uncalled for."

"Do you want me to?"

in the dip of your collarbone (baby that's called home) by rizcriz. T, 4.2k. Alex has had too much to drink.

Alex has had too much to drink and he’s practically horizontal, held up only by the strength of his roommates singular arm while said roommate is dribbling fucking Patron into the dip between his clavicle so he can lap it up with his tongue.

or two idiots are in love.

it hits different 'cause it's you by coffeecatsme. E, 4.3k. “Fuck, I need someone to like, rail me to next week so I stop worrying about this class.”

Henry chokes on his tea in an attempt not to spurt it all over his computer. He turns to his roommate. “Alex?” he says carefully. “Could you…repeat that, please?”

Or, Alex needs to get railed. Henry provides.

you taste like home by whitescarves. T, 4.4k. “I lied to you,” he says.

He doesn’t clarify. He doesn’t have to.

Alex toys with his fingers. Quiet settles over them, offset by the pattering rain.

“I know.”

Or, the rizcriz prompt where Alex and Henry are roommates and Henry lies when Alex confesses his feelings in order to protect their dynamic.

Riding slow 'cause you know the world's moving too fast by earth_to_alex16. T, 4.9k. Maybe he should be reaching for the stars, like his parents told him. Moving mountains. Changing the world.

But all he wants to do is tackle one small hurdle at a time, Henry right by his side.

Forever.

So what does that say about him?

Four times Alex and Henry face collisions, and the one time a collision yields stars.

all this bitching and moaning. by @chaa-kiao. M, 5k. His door creaks. “Alex.”

Henry. Fresh tears splash over his cheeks. “Since when do you ignore my boundaries?”

“Since you—” Henry sputters. “For Christ’s sake, I haven’t allowed myself a single shred of hope in four years, can you blame me for not being able to stand it?”

Alex’s sexuality—straight—is the punchline of most Super Six jokes. He starts figuring out why that bothers him so much.

be with you day and night (all i need is time) by chanmosphere. T, 5.2k. Five times Henry is about to confess and one time Alex does it first.

None of my love will go to waste by @kiwiana-writes. E, 5.3k. Henry has made peace with the fact that he's in love with his straight roommate. When he walks in on said "straight" roommate with a man, though, he may need to re-evaluate.

coming clean by ninzied. E, 5.8k. Objectively, Henry knows it’s not so big a deal. They’ve seen each other naked before, in a strictly gym locker sort of way. Here should be no different, really. Either way, it's no place for deeply guarded fantasies about his housemate—his best mate—to go. Either way, Alex is straight. Either way, Alex is not even looking.

Or, 3 times Alex wants to talk about his day while Henry's in the shower + 1 time he wants other things.

it's all fun and games (til somebody loses their mind) by @theprinceandagcd. T, 6k. He’s left standing there, listening to the thudding of his pulse in his ears, trying to swallow the sudden nausea twisting in his belly. Alex is long gone, like he flipped Henry’s world upside down without a single care and walked away from him similarly, with no concern for the destruction left behind in the wake.

Alex had kissed him.

He’d done so for several moments, a full stretch of countable time, like he’d meant it, and then disappeared in a split second once he’d achieved his victory, the apparent purpose of his kiss.

As if it had meant nothing.

---

Alex kisses Henry during a game of laser tag, and then pretends it was just a distraction, only he can't stop thinking about it, either.

Let Me inside (I Want to Get to Know You) by affectionatelyrs, @happiness-of-the-pursuit. T, 6.1k.

A sticky note, placed between the knobs on the kitchen sink:

Tap not working. Called plumber 5th Oct.

A new sticky note, placed between the knobs on the kitchen sink:

fixed. told plumber not to bother.

A new sticky note, placed to the right of the sink:

Did you wear the uniform and everything?

A new sticky note, placed below the previous sticky note:

wouldn’t you like to know?

Or, Alex and Henry fall in love one note at a time

Run the Risk by etherealdimini. NR, 6.1k. Henry smiles at him. Then, he shakes his head, like he’s trying to shake out a thought. “Well, thank you for having David. I should, um, get going. I wouldn’t want to bother you even further on a Sunday morning. I suppose I’ll see you—”

“I could have you, too,” Alex blurts out. Henry’s mouth drops open slightly.

OR

Henry moves in beside Alex. Alex is enamoured. He does something about it.

Uncut not Uncultured by @inexplicablymine. E, 6.4k. “Excuse me? Have I dealt with Uncircumcised Dick? Are you at a hookup or something right now and a little lost?”

“Yes, have you dealt with uncircumcised dick, no I’m not at a hookup, I am having an existential crisis and I need support okay Liam!” Alex’s voice pitches up at the end showing that he really is worried about something to do with foreskin.

__________________

One Trader Joe’s Pride themed phallic treat, one existential crisis with your ex and his current lover, one hot and steamy night to work it all out.

YourMusicSucksAndYouLookLikeADickhead by cloudymilk. E, 6.7k. In which Alex gets a new neighbour who immediately pisses him off, and they begin blaring their music to communicate with each other.

oh shit...are we in love? by sunnysideprince. T, 6.8k. They are practically polar opposites. Henry is quiet and introverted where Alex is definitely not, but it works for them just fine. It’s just like what Ms. Benson taught them about magnets. Opposites attract, and Henry wouldn’t have it any other way.

down the hall, through the door by kwrites. E, 7k. Alex had found his door opening at least once a week, Henry’s tall frame filling the space looking for something or other. The thing is, Henry seemed so well put together all of the time, that him constantly running out of common household supplies or food is so outside the walls of what Alex expects from him.

or, Henry and Alex are neighbors and Henry has a habit of stopping by unannounced.

peekaboo, baby by celeritas2997. E, 7k. Henry might die.

“You good?”

“I—er—fine,” Henry stammers. His blasted, traitorous eyes lock onto where Alex is hanging out.

Alex follows Henry’s gaze. His surprise is short-lived before he cocks an eyebrow and smirks. “Like what you see, sweetheart?”

Henry is definitely going to die.

Can You See Me? (I'm Waiting for the Right Time) by @affectionatelyrs. T, 7.2k. “Whose turn was it?” Henry asks while Alex is busy pondering the merits of throwing himself out their fifth-story window and hoping his boner doesn’t take anyone’s eye out on his way down. “Forgive me, but I am a bit tired. Do you think you could take it?”

There’s no way that Henry’s not doing this on purpose. He makes words mean things when put in a certain order for a living, for fucks sake. Alex almost quips back depends on how big it is just to see how—or if—Henry would react.

“Yeah, um, no problem.” There. Much more normal. He could steal Henry’s job at this rate. “Truth or dare?”

Or, Alex’s world gets flipped on its axis during a game of truth or dare

deep in the dreaming of you by ninzied. E, 7.4k. Alex isn’t sleeping after a recent breakup. Henry tries to be the supportive best friend, because he knows all too well what it’s like to lose sleep over pining for someone.

Or, Alex is pining. Henry is just very wrong about whom.

(looked to the sky and said) please, I've been on my knees by theprinceandagcd. M, 7.5k. But Henry is not Alex’s.

He won’t ever be Alex’s to hold and cherish and love.

Because Henry chose someone else.

That searing pain is why Alex has folded his limbs into a patio bench on their balcony, feeling petulant and hating himself for it. It’s the reason that he’s a quarter of the way into the bottle he’s holding and pouting up at the sky, looking for stars that he knows are there but aren’t showing themselves to him, like maybe they’ve abandoned him, too.

He feels like he’s staring up at an endless expanse of darkness and wishing on fucking nothing, his prayers falling on deaf ears and getting forever lost in that infinite abyss.

----

or, Alex gets drunk because Henry is on a date & drunken confessions ensue

in your arms (the happiest place on earth) by rizcriz. T, 7.6k. Alex stares at the text, his heartbeat thrumming wild and free in his veins, because what the fuck. Not because of the content of the text, as mundane and normal as it is; not Henry thinking about him when he’s several states away without him; not the fact he’s even texted while Alex is in the middle of the busiest damn park at Disney World.

It’s the words that pop into his head as soon as he reads the text:

Fuck, I love him.

What. The. Fuck.

Or, the happiest place on earth isn't where you'd expect it to be.

Sprinkler Splashes To Fireplace Ashes by @iboatedhere. T, 7.7k. "So, tell me everything."

"There's not much to tell, really," Henry says, smiling into the phone when Pez sighs dramatically.

"Henry. You are young, beautiful, living in an exciting city half a world away, and you say there's nothing to tell?"

"I'm over thirty," Henry counters as he strains his tea into his mug. "I found a gray hair three days ago, and I'm in Georgetown—the most exciting thing I've seen is the neighbor from three houses down trying to fight a ticket for double parking."

"Was he successful?"

"No."

Pez hums. "You should get out more."

coming on fast like good dreams do by @cricketnationrise. E, 7.5k. When Henry recovers from his unexpected factory reset, he still can’t really breathe properly and somehow Alex is still standing in front of him with a hopeful and excited expression on his face.

“Run that by me again?” he asks faintly.

“I need your help.”

“Right…”

“I need you to edge me. Like a lot,” Alex says with a shrug.

Nope, it’s not any clearer a second time around.

One More Weekend by @underthefigtree777. E, 7.7k. “Are you going to miss me?” Henry’s arms wrap around Alex’s waist from behind. His chin rests gently on Alex’s shoulder.

Alex doesn’t know how to answer the question. He already misses Henry.

The unspoken rules they made for whatever they’ve been doing over the past year have slowly started to deteriorate. Now that there is an end in sight, there isn’t much point in minimizing the small talk. There’s no need to sneak back to their respective apartments in the middle of the night to avoid waking up next to each other in the morning.

Or, Alex and Henry have been neighbors and fuck buddies for the past year. Alex realizes his feelings for Henry might be more than casual when he learns that Henry is moving back to London.

(how's one to know?) I'd live and die for moments that we stole. by untoward. G, 8k. He kissed Henry.

But it wasn’t a long or deep kiss, it was a peck. He did that to a lot of people; Nora, his old friends from back home, hell, even strangers at parties. He knows he’s an affectionate person and this is just an extension of that. Plus, he’s really comfortable in his sexuality to know it doesn’t actually mean anything.

Right?

or

5+1 Things where Alex keeps giving Henry kisses and claiming he's just being his affectionate, straight self.

we broke all the pieces (still wanna play the game) by theprinceandagcd. E, 8.5k. “Henry.” Alex crawls over and braces his hands on Henry's thighs, sitting up on his knees so that he can meet Henry's gaze. His own lips curl automatically when he sees that Henry is already smiling, but he schools his features into a more serious expression. “Do you want to play?”

“Do you?” Henry reaches out to push a curl away from Alex's forehead, trailing a finger down the side of his face and making Alex shiver. He leans down until his mouth is beside Alex's ear, and Alex feels lightheaded all of a sudden, his breath held hostage in his lungs. “Because you're going to lose.”

Alex shoves him away, shaking his head as that challenge reverberates in his brain and sparks fire in his veins, accelerating his heart rate as he grins. “You're fucking on, Fox.”

----

or, Alex and Henry are best friends who are *definitely* not into each other, so they get a little tipsy and play gay chicken that neither of them are willing to lose.

Number Neighbour by aforgottennymph. E, 9.2k. Henry likes his new neighbours well enough - There’s Mrs Bennett in 6D, who always pinches his cheek when she passes him in the hall. Mr Ewing in 3B, that Henry always helps carry his groceries up the stairs as he doesn’t trust the lifts. There’s Emily from 4A, who always stops Henry in the halls to show him photos of her baby, who has recently learned how to put square shaped blocks into square shaped holes.

And then there's Alexander Claremont Diaz in 2E that he has been steadily falling in love with via text message, despite never meeting the man.

He's bloody screwed.

I Get On My Knees by quill_and_ink. E, 9.5k. What the fuck is Henry Fox doing in his bed? His best friend, his roommate, the person who knows him better than anyone else in the world - why in the everloving fuck is Henry in his bed?

Better question - why the fuck is Henry naked in his bed?

bacterial? fungal? nah, baby, we're going viral by @benwvatt. T, 10k. It’s okay, Henry thinks. This is who he is on Eureka Boys, magnanimous, gracious, intelligent. Perhaps it’s a role he embodies. Perhaps it’s his actual personality.

It takes time to figure out.

Alex gulps just then, and Henry follows the languid dip of his Adam’s apple down, down the exquisite column of his throat; Henry follows the hand that scratches at his starchy collar. Henry stares into the middle distance and wants him.

In which Alex and Henry run a science comedy podcast while in college, and Henry spends every episode pining madly after his (seemingly) straight best friend. Yes, they do flirt while talking about animal sex.

Through His Stomach by KiwianaPods (kiwiana), lovecommahannah. E, 13k. “Do you think we can save the pot?” Henry asks, moving to run it under water in the sink.

“Not a chance,” Alex says with a laugh. “But here. Go sit down. I know my way around a kitchen pretty well, so you don’t have to worry. I’ve got this."

Or: How to get your roommate to fall in love with you, in 5+1 beginner friendly(ish) recipes.

It's a Strange Way of Saying that I Know, I'm Supposed to Love You by sunflowerjpg. T, 13k. “So… Alex is bi.”

“Y-yes, I heard,” he responds through a gulp.

“When do you plan on making your move?” June asks, straight forward as always.

“June! I can’t! He just came out, how can I take advantage of that? I can’t just say, “Hey Alex! Now that you’re into men, do you fancy sucking my cock?” He would have me committed! Jailed! Deported! And what if he came to his sexuality because he met someone? Oh, god.”

“Okay, ew, I’d expect more romance.” June protests just as Bea scoffs.

---

Moving 3,399 miles across the ocean with just his dog and whatever clothing he could fit in his travel bag to attend NYU behind his grandmother’s back was not one of Henry’s most sane ideas. Thankfully he meets his roommate on move-in day—one charming, inevitable, Alex Claremont-Diaz—and they slowly fall in love during their first year living together. Henry thinks it's completely unrequited, Alex thinks they’re dating the whole time.

Lovefool by aforgottennymph. E, 18k. Henry has been in love with his roommate and best friend since the moment they met, caught in the rain outside their college apartment. Over the next four years he learns everything there is to know about Alex Claremont Diaz, what makes him tick.

He knows his coffee order, the meaning behind how he narrows his eyes one way versus a slightly different way. He knows how to make him finish in under thirty seconds (“That was one fucking time, sweetheart!”).

If only he could have him, wholeheartedly, not just the friends with benefits arrangement they have stumbled into.

The Flatshare, or Two Boys One Bed by momsgoldteeth. G, 18k. The Craigslist ad reads, 'I work nights and only require the apartment between the hours of 9am to 4:30pm Monday through Friday. The flat would be yours 4:30pm to 9am Monday through Friday as well as all day and night on Saturday and Sunday.' Henry and Alex share a bed. Henry and Alex have never met. (Based on Beth O'Leary's 'The Flatshare'.)

Room For Rent (Sex Dungeon Not Included) by @everwitch-magiks. E, 19k. When Alex comes, he only knows two things: that he’s good, and that he’s Henry’s. And that’s all he needs to know.

Alex’s housemate has a sex dungeon. It’s pretty much exactly what you’d expect; whips and bondage gear and a chair that looks like something a gynecologist would have use for. Alex, being the chill, sex-positive guy he is, is of course extremely cool with this. Totally normal about it. Enthusiastically supportive, even.

But as Alex watches Henry invite a steady stream of men into his dungeon, he develops one tiny little issue with the arrangement: he desperately wants to take their place.

Murphy’s Law (aka, A series of most (un)fortunate events) by Djokodal_Fan. M, 22k. If something can go wrong, it will.

The somewhat cynical statement of the Murphy's law has never really appealed to Henry - but he can't help start believing in it more and more, after the magnificently gorgeous, witty and compassionate Alex Claremont-Diaz moves in to the house next door to his. Basically, the man of Henry's most fervent dreams and deepest desires. They quickly become good friends, but somehow, every so often, Murphy's Law strikes when he's in Alex's company and leaves Henry feeling either flustered and tongue-tied, or completely mortified, or utterly distressed. It's not long before he starts disconsolately wondering if the very Universe is conspiring to keep him away from the man of his dreams. If he is Thisbe to Alex's Pyramus, and Henry's destiny is to always keep pining from across the picket fence separating their homes.

Alex, of course, has radically different ideas. ☺️

Newton's Fourth Law by dilfpickles. E, 26k. In which Alex meets his new very attractive roommate through Reddit, downloads Grindr, and discovers some things about himself and his roommate in the process.

You Make my Head Spin by starry_pisces. E, 26k. Henry and Alex become roommates while both attending classes at NYU. Alex learns what it's like to live with (and love) someone with an invisible disability. Feelings abound.

thinking out loud by later2dae. T, 27k. Alex has a new neighbor. The walls are quite thin. One night, he hears a voice, but it's not what he expects.

OR the one where Henry berates himself and Alex thinks that it's Henry's horrible boyfriend.

wrung out by arcticmaggie. M, 35k. So excuse him if he passes by Henry one night, both in pajamas and on their way to their respective rooms, both about to end their day at the same time, and his pinky slightly grazes against Henry’s right hip, immediately making him stop, whip around and stutter out, “H-Hey.”

It startles Henry—it startles Alex as well, Jesus—as he stumbles with his steps and turns around, eyebrows raised in surprise at the sudden break in peaceful silence in their apartment.

“Hey?” he replies.

or

Law student Alex is incredibly touch-starved and his English Lit PhD roommate Henry is right there.

If you know a firstprince author handle I may have missed tagging or find a broken link, please give me a heads up! Happy reading.

RWRB FirstPrince Roommates & Neighbors Part One

Master List of RWRB FirstPrince Recs

Master List of Recommendations

[steddiealltheway]

Part Three of The Danger of Romanticizing. Part One. Part Two. Ao3 Link.

Over the next few days, Steve asks Robin to tell Eddie he says hi, adding it to his morning routine. And every day without fail, he gets a responding hi back. Sometimes, he even gets a question about what the polo of the day is. Robin starts shoving Steve sticky notes to write down whatever he wants to say which she hands off to Chrissy. 

He finds himself looking forward to the notes whenever he gets home, fingers tracing over Eddie’s slightly sloppy handwriting before sticking them to his wall. 

On Thursday, Steve comes home to find Chrissy sitting on the couch with Robin, fingers intertwined as they appear to do their separate class readings. “Hey,” Steve says, hoping that they’re not too deep into the studying zone. 

Chrissy gives him a bright smile and says, “Hi, Steve.” 

Steve can’t help but glance around, trying to find some trace of Eddie in the place. For some reason, he thinks that he would know if he was there. 

“He’s out with his... friend,” Chrissy explains, giving Steve an apologetic smile. 

Steve nods. “Right, the sort of boyfriend.” 

“I wouldn’t call him that,” Chrissy says with a slight frown. She shakes her head and turns back to her work. 

Robin stares at her girlfriend for a moment before asking, “How come you never talk about him?”

Chrissy glances at her and her expression immediately softens. Steve feels like he finally understood the phrase “heart eyes” when he first saw the way Chrissy and Robin look at each other. 

“I haven’t met him yet. But Eddie doesn’t have the best track record with guys. I mean, he deserves the world, but he doesn’t understand why. I used to make him recite these affirmations to try to make him understand his worth, but he’s Eddie, you know? A lot of those deep emotions he deflects with jokes.” Chrissy sighs and holds up a packet of paper. “Sorry, I’m currently learning about coping mechanisms.” 

“No apologizing, remember? You’re allowed to talk about the things you’re passionate about,” Robin gently reminds her. 

Chrissy leans over and plants a soft kiss on her cheek. “Thank you,” she says softly. 

Steve turns away as he watches Robin blush and duck her head. He resists the urge to make a comment that will ruin their moment and instead goes to the pantry and pulls out a box of pasta. He silently starts on dinner contemplating if he can pry about this mystery man in Eddie’s life through the sticky notes. 

“Oh, Steve!” Chrissy says over her shoulder. 

“Yes?” 

“Eddie said that he’s sad to miss you and he hopes he can see you again soon.” 

Steve smiles. “Tell him I hope I can see him soon.” 

“Will do,” Chrissy replies with a bright smile. 

And god, Steve really hopes he can. 

-:-:-:-:-:-

The next morning is rough. 

Steve sleeps through his alarm and in the process of rushing out the door he forgets to write Eddie a note and spills a cup of coffee on himself on the drive to work. 

He walks in pressing napkins against his shirt, trying to soak up some of the liquid. Of course, this is the day he decides to wear a light pink polo. 

“Nice look, Harrington,” Collin says loudly, causing everyone else to look up from their desk at him. 

He already gets enough shit for being the boss’s son, so he’s sure that today will be worse than usual. 

And it is. 

It’s like everyone teams up on him to make jokes pretending to trip while holding coffee mugs in their hands. It gets old pretty fast, especially when his co-worker Aidan actually ends up pouring more coffee on him while he’s talking to a customer. And while he’s cleaning up again, Collin is able to swoop in and swindle his customer. 

It’s all bullshit. 

When the workday ends, he tries to grab his stuff and stalk off to his car quickly, but Collin manages to get in a quick, “Better luck next time, champ.” 

Steve ignores him but he can’t help but feel like the final straw was broken for him. 

He gets stuck in traffic and wants more than anything to just get home, shower, change, and put on a shitty movie. When he finally gets to his apartment, he manages to drop the keys while unlocking the door twice before pushing it open only to find Robin standing on the other side. 

“How was work?” she asks overly bubbly. 

“How do you think it was?” Steve asks gesturing to his shirt. 

Robin cringes and teases, “Clumsy day?” 

“Not now, Robin,” Steve sighs, trying to take his shoes off quickly. He finally gets them undone and finds that he’s wearing one navy and one black sock. 

Robin points down to them and laughs. 

“Seriously, Robin, I’m not in the mood,” he says and crosses his arms. 

Robin grabs onto his arms with a bright smile and says, “But I have a surprise for you.” 

Steve sighs and ducks his head, trying to make his way past her. 

“Hold on!” Robin says, blocking his way. “God, you reek of coffee.” 

For some reason, the comment really gets to Steve, and he snaps, “Can you just fucking give me some space?” He storms past her and rounds the corner to his room only to find that they’re not alone. 

He looks up and takes in Chrissy and Eddie standing in the living room looking extremely uncomfortable. 

“I...” Steve starts then turns around mumbling, “Fuck,” under his breath as he practically runs out the front door, grabbing his shoes on the way out. He jogs toward his car and pulls on the handle, realizing it’s locked. He digs into his pocket and mumbles, “No.” He checks his other pocket and comes up with nothing. 

Of course, he left them on the hook by the front door. 

He quickly puts on his shoes, wincing when he feels a rock in his right shoe. He sighs and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. He knows he shouldn’t run. He always runs. 

He hears footsteps thudding on the sidewalk behind him. “Hey,” a voice softly says. 

Steve squeezes his eyes shut a little harder before running his hands over his face and slowly turning around. “Hey,” he mumbles, making fleeting eye contact with Eddie before staring at the pavement. 

“Going somewhere?” 

Steve crosses his arms and leans back against the hood of his car. “I was, but I left my keys inside.” 

Eddie digs into his pocket and pulls out a set of keys, dangling them in front of him. “I have mine. Come on,” he says, already stepping back on the sidewalk and walking away from Steve. 

Steve pauses but follows him around the corner of the building where he’s parked. He wonders if he purposefully parked there in order to surprise him. God, it just makes him feel worse. 

He climbs into the passenger seat and stares ahead. 

“Where to?” Eddie asks. 

Steve sighs, “Whatever store carries pints of coffee chocolate chip ice cream.” 

Eddie starts his van and asks, “Your favorite?” 

“Robin’s favorite.” 

“Ah,” Eddie says as he backs out of the side parking lot. “I have an extra shirt in the back if you want to change.” 

Steve almost passes it up, but he doesn’t think he can stand the smell of coffee any longer. He twists in his seat and glances at the back, finding a random shirt thrown on the seat along with a lot of random shit that Steve wants to ask about. Instead, he tugs his polo off and quickly shrugs on Eddie’s shirt. 

In any other situation, he would’ve been ecstatic about the softness of the shirt and embarrassingly tried to smell the collar or something to commit the scent to memory. But the heaviness of how he treated Robin weighs too heavily on his mind. 

They sit in silence for a few moments, and Steve grows increasingly sorrowful. 

“Want to talk about it?” Eddie asks. 

Steve glances at him, noticing the lack of judgment in his expression which puts him at ease. “I just had a really bad day at work, and I was an asshole and took it out on Robin.” 

“Chrissy always tells me that we take out our stress on the ones we love the most.” 

“There’s definitely a reason she’s a psychology major.” 

Eddie snorts and shrugs, eyes not leaving the road as he talks. “She’s going to be an amazing therapist. But what I meant by that is that I’ve had my fair share of frustrating exchanges with Chrissy as well.” 

Steve sighs and leans back in his seat. “Yeah, but usually I save the part where I reveal that I’m an asshole at least a few months after meeting someone.” 

“Romanticizing yourself,” Eddie says with a small smile. He approaches a red light and turns to Steve to state, “You’re not an asshole. You’re just human.” 

“A little too human,” Steve argues. 

“The best people are.” 

“Sounds like you’re romanticizing me,” Steve says, trying to brush off the sincerity of what Eddie said. 

Eddie rolls his eyes and turns back to the now green light. 

They sit in comfortable silence as they make their way to the parking lot of a grocery store. 

With the words still weighing heavy on his mind, Steve finally says, “Thank you.” 

Eddie pulls into a parking space and replies, “No need for all that.” He gets out of the car before Steve can argue with him. 

As they make their way inside, Steve changes the subject, “Ever since you brought up how empty my room is, I can’t stop noticing it.” 

Eddie winces. “Sorry, I have a tendency to chronically put my foot in my mouth.” 

Steve shakes his head. “No, I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I just suddenly want to do something about it.” 

Eddie suddenly stops in the middle of the store, causing the person behind them to nearly hit him with their cart. Eddie turns and says, “Sorry,” before placing a gentle hand on Steve’s back and guiding him away from the frozen aisle they were walking toward. 

“Where-” 

Eddie puts his finger to his lips and says, “No questions.” 

Steve’s eyebrows furrow but he keeps his lips shut as Eddie guides him to some random place in the store. He lets the warmth of Eddie's fingertips through the thin layer of the shirt distract him for a few moments until he notices that they’ve stopped. 

Steve glances around and asks, “Clocks?” 

Eddie sighs and tugs him past the section to the picture frames. “Stay here and pick a few you like. I’ll be right back.” 

Steve can’t even give him a confused look before he takes off. He turns back to the frames, scanning them before he grabs a white frame with a gold stripe that he thinks looks nice. For some reason he also finds a small silver circular frame that he thinks is kind of cute and funny, so he grabs it. He holds the two side by side and smiles. They look horrible together, but he likes them. 

Eddie suddenly appears at his side, winded as if he just ran across the store. He holds up a small disposable camera and smiles proudly. “And this should be good for now. Time for ice cream.” He turns and heads toward the frozen aisle before stopping in place suddenly again. 

Steve runs right into him and stumbles back. “Do you do this often?” 

“Absolutely,” Eddie answers. He glances down at the frames and says, “I just realized I didn’t look at what you chose. The small one is funny.” 

“Right?” Steve says, relieved that he understands. 

Eddie looks him in the eye and his smile grows. “Good choices.” 

Steve finds himself flushing a bit red after the direct affirmation from Eddie. Luckily, Eddie doesn’t notice as he leads the way to the ice cream. 

It takes a few moments to find the ice cream, but Eddie suddenly excitedly says, “Yes!” and grabs a pint out of the freezer. Steve can’t help but think that he might be his good luck charm. 

They check out quickly. Eddie asks Steve to grab him a candy bar, taking the moment of distraction to hand the cashier money, paying for everything. When Steve realizes, he tries to protest but Eddie shuts him down saying, “I’m the one who told you to get those things. It would be a dick move to make you pay for them too.” 

“I could’ve at least covered the ice cream.” 

“And risked it melting while we wasted time with a second checkout?” Eddie asks, acting flabbergasted at the idea. 

Steve just laughs and at least takes the bags from him. 

“My hero,” Eddie jokes, fluttering his eyelashes. As they get to the car he asks, “By the way, what candy bar did you get? I forgot to check.” 

“A Three Musketeer. I hope that’s okay.” 

Eddie smiles and hits the center console excitedly. “That was the inspiration behind naming Dart! You know? D'Artagnan.” 

Steve shakes his head coming up with nothing. Eddie digs into the bags and grabs the candy, pointing it out to Steve. 

“Oh. Dustin’s going to be so excited to hear that. Three Musketeers are his favorite.” 

“You really love that kid,” Eddie comments with a smile as he starts the car. 

“He can be an annoying little shit sometimes, but I love him like a brother.” 

Eddie laughs. “I’m excited to meet him.” 

“Me too,” Steve replies and suddenly remembers what Dustin told him. “Hey, I didn’t know you also illustrated the book. I don’t know how I skimmed over that, but that’s incredible.” 

A light blush covers Eddie’s cheeks. “It’s alright. I used to design stuff for Hellfire in high school, but I’m absolutely shit at faces. That’s why you never see The Boy’s face.” 

“I somehow never noticed that. But I think it’s a good choice. It lets the reader kind of imagine themself in the role, you know?” 

Eddie pauses for a moment before asking, “Yeah? You can relate?” 

Steve shrugs and leans back. “I can relate to the found family, and I mean...” Steve trails off and looks down at his hands. “Sometimes I feel like an outcast. And yeah, that sounds ridiculous since I was a pretty popular jock in high school. But I had this kind of reality check and suddenly I didn’t see the appeal of being ‘King Steve.’ I spent the last semester of my senior year sitting next to my ex and her new boyfriend during lunch. It was a miracle that I put in my resume at this ice cream shop because that’s how I met Robin. But even at work now, I just don’t fit in.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.” 

“Maybe we’re the same,” Eddie cheesily quotes the title of his book. Before Steve can ask what he means, Eddie presses on. “I have one question.” 

“Mhm?” 

“Did they really call you King Steve?” 

Steve groans, “Yes. God, I hate that nickname.” 

Eddie laughs. “Alright, I promise not to call you that.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Your Highness.” 

Steve sighs but he fails to hide the slight humor in his expression. 

“Okay, I promise to never bring it up... After this car ride, my lord,” Eddie says with a wicked smile. 

Steve buries his face in his hands for the rest of the ride home, trying not to laugh too hard at the ridiculous nicknames Eddie pulls out of his ass. But as they get closer to his apartment, his happiness dies down as he faces the reality of what he’s returning to. 

Eddie quiets down during the last minute, sensing the shift in emotions from Steve. He parks outside and quietly asks, “Are you ready?” 

“No,” Steve says, unbuckling his seatbelt and grabbing his bags before getting out of the car. 

He slowly steps up to the front door but pauses to turn around to Eddie. “Thank you for all of this. Really.” 

Eddie just puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “I had a good time. I hope your day has gotten a little better.” 

“It has,” Steve admits with no hesitation. “As long as I can apologize to Robin after this and hope she forgives me.” 

“Something tells me that she will.” 

Steve glances up at Eddie, wondering if he can express how much that fills him with relief. He steps forward, intent on wrapping his arms around the man and holding him for as long as he’ll let him. 

The door swings open before Steve’s arms can come up. 

“Hey, I thought I heard the van doors shut,” Chrissy says with a small smile. 

“How is she?” Steve asks immediately. 

Chrissy puts a hand on his arm. “She’s alright. I think she’ll be happy to talk to you.” She squeezes him before turning to Eddie and asking, “You ready to go?” 

Eddie’s eyes flicker to Steve before settling on Chrissy. He gives her a conflicted look, but Chrissy raises her eyebrows at him causing Eddie to sigh and turn to Steve saying, “Maybe I’ll see you soon? We’ll plan it this time.” 

Steve feels his face suddenly get very warm with embarrassment. “That would be great.” 

Eddie nods at him and turns away to make his way back to the van. Steve waves goodbye to the pair before going inside. He drops the bag with the frames and camera on their table in the small dining area before grabbing two spoons and the bag with the ice cream.  

He purposefully makes his footsteps a little heavier as he makes his way to Robin’s room to prepare her for his presence. He lightly knocks on the door and waits. 

“It’s open,” she says. 

Steve slowly pushes the door open and finds Robin lying in her bed staring at the ceiling. “Hey.” 

Robin turns and gives him a small smile. “Hey.” 

“I brought the goods,” Steve jokes as he walks toward her bed. 

Robin sits up and makes grabby hands at him, taking the pint and a spoon as soon as she can. Steve can’t help but think that’s a good sign, but he’s not going to pretend everything is normal. “I’m sorry I was an asshole to you. I shouldn’t have taken out my bad day on you.” 

Robin glances at him with a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth. She takes a moment to eat before she sighs, “It wasn’t just you though. I shouldn’t have been so pushy and glossed over your bad day. And I definitely shouldn’t have surprised you like that.” 

“Are you kidding? Any other day, I would’ve been ecstatic.” 

“Just not today,” Robin says, staring down at the ice cream before taking another spoonful. She glances over at him and asks, “Want to talk about your day?” 

Steve shakes his head. “Just Collin being an asshole and the other guys joining in.” 

“Charles and Ryan?” 

“Aidan this time.” 

Robin sighs, “I wish I could go in there and give them a piece of my mind.” 

“I think I deserved it today.” 

Robin raises an eyebrow at him. “No matter how much of a dick you can be, I’m not leaving you, dingus. And you definitely don’t deserve that shit.” 

Steve shrugs and takes a stab at the ice cream. “Eddie made things better.” 

“Yeah?” 

Steve nods and avoids eye contact as the coffee flavor melts in his mouth. 

“Speak of Eddie, is he the reason you’re wearing a Metallica shirt?” 

Steve glances down at the shirt and smiles. He had forgotten he was wearing it. “Yeah. He had an extra shirt in the back and let me change out of the coffee-stained one. I think I left that polo in his van though.” He shrugs and gets another spoonful of ice cream. “He’s really great.” 

There’s a longer pause before Robin rests her hand on Steve’s and asks, “Steve, do you... like him?” 

Steve’s eyes snap up to Robin quickly, swallowing a mouthful of cold ice cream in the process. His heart beats a little faster, and he hopes Robin can’t feel his pulse. “No, it’s not like that. Besides, I barely know him.” 

“Yeah, but you’ve liked people with a lot less information about them.” 

Steve sighs and puts his spoon down to lay his other hand on top of Robin’s and look her in the eye. “Even if I do like him, he has a sort of boyfriend. Plus, I’m not going to do anything reckless that will risk the happiness of your and Chrissy’s relationship, okay?” 

Robin stares at him for a few seconds too long before she nods. “Okay. But... you can talk to me if those feelings ever change.” 

“And they won’t,” Steve reassures her. 

Robin looks conflicted before she gives him a small smile and goes back to the ice cream. 

Steve is able to easily change the subject and things finally feel normal again once they’re both laughing so hard they have to wipe at the tears running down their faces. 

But when Steve lays in bed that night, his thoughts drift to Eddie. He can’t fall for him. Really, he can’t. He can’t do that to Chrissy and Robin. 

So, for once, he tries to turn off all the thoughts romanticizing the man. But he doesn’t know how to humanize the man when he’s been nothing but... perfect. 

He’s so screwed.

Part Four

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[darthannie]

thursday night out

2.1k / neil lewis x f!reader

Pairing: Neil Lewis x f!reader Summary: Neil can't sleep and neither can you. A late night conversation leads to revelations. Warnings: 18+, minors dni. fluff, no use of y/n, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort if you squint really hard, Neil cries because of course a/n: I'm a lil rusty y'all but I had to take matters into my own hands.

You were absolutely restless in bed. You had come home from the bar your friend Jonathan worked at, Balanza, after needing some liquid comfort and a close friend. He was one of four. Your little group was all you needed, but more recently it was feeling like three. You, Neil, Lucien, and Jonathan were basically inseparable as you all emerged into adulthood together.

Now, you all found a little bit of community at Gumshoe Video, your and Neil’s video store. It wasn’t much but it was what you and Neil cared about the most. It was your baby, so to speak. Yet another thing that kept you and Neil stuck to each other’s sides. 

Neil was special. He had gone through it all with you. When you were in high school together you both skipped school dances and watched movies all night long while getting drunk on whatever was close by. You had comforted each other through numerous breakups, spent many long nights taking care of each other when the other was sick, and now ran a video store together. Growing up, your parents would make jokes about how you would end up together. Neil thought that was the funniest thing ever. “What a cliche.”, Neil would say. You would always laugh and agree but deep down, there was a piece of you that resented his indifference. It was only natural that you both felt something for each other, right? Neil was your rock and you were his. 

But nevertheless, Neil was seeing someone. At least you thought he was. It wasn’t totally clear what was going on, but you knew when he wasn’t at the video store he was running around with her. That left you, Lucien, and Jonathan to hold down the fort. This always happened when Neil got involved with a girl and it always left you feeling… odd. You never wanted to admit it but you had been in love with him for years. Brushing off that feeling was the only way you could disconnect. 

This constant yearning was exhausting but you just wanted to see Neil happy. Only now, you couldn’t tell if he was happy. He had been a bit secretive about the girl he was seeing. If you knew Neil, he was in over his head. Whenever you saw him at the shop he seemed drained and a bit stressed, but he never stayed long. He’d say, “I’m gonna go in about an hour. We’re getting dinner tonight, I think?” I think, was the key phrase. His remarks were rooted in confusion. Maybe his status with this mystery girl wasn’t so solid. You had hoped, for his sake, something good would come out of this. You couldn’t bear to see him hurt again.

After some overthinking, you were finally getting a bit drowsy. Right as you were about to drift off your ringtone shocked you awake. You answered it before you could check the name and heard a familiar voice on the other line. “Hey”, Neil said. “Can I come over? I can’t sleep” The clock on your nightstand read 1:34 AM. “Yeah sure what’s u-“ 

He hung top on you and within a couple of seconds, there was a knock at the door.

You scurried out of bed and headed towards the door. You weren’t prepared for what met you on the other side of the door. It was Neil, of course, but he looked sad. His eyes were puffy and red. He looked like he had been crying for hours. He looked exhausted. It took you a second before you realized you had been staring. You moved to the side and silently gestured for him to come in. 

He went right past you and towards the couch, face-planting into the cushions. He groaned and you stood over him for a moment before squatting down to his level. “Neil?” You heard a sniffle come from him and he turned to face you. Even now, he was just as gorgeous as every other time you saw him. Handsome in a classic sense. You fought every urge not to brush the hair away from his eyes but eventually, you gave in. You reached out and he closed his eyes after feeling your touch. “Neil, what’s going on?” 

“Jonathan and I got into a fight. Well, not like a fight fight. We just argued a bit and I got pissed and left.”

You removed your hand from his face. That was the last thing you expected to hear. There was never any conflict in your friend group that went beyond friendly film debates, but you were waiting for the shoe to drop. You had spent your time at Balanza tonight blabbing to Jonathan about how annoying It was that Neil was never around whenever he started seeing someone. He pushed you about it you admitted it was because you had liked him for years. Jonathan laughed “Well no duh! I could smell that shit from a mile away. You guys already treat each other like you’re married.” And he was right. There were things you and Neil did that felt like you were married. Apart from movie nights, you had spent time cooking dinner for each other, taken a couple of trips together, and confided in each other about everything. Your bond was unbreakable. 

You were thinking about what to say when Neil interrupted your fractured thought process. 

“I was at Balanza tonight, thought I’d go in for a quick drink, you know? And I got to talkin’ with Jonathan and he mentioned how you had been there a bit before me and how I’d just missed you. I thought was weird because you always told me if you were going so we could go together. Plus you’d told me you were going straight home after closing up the store. But anyway, he started joking about you and me. I mean, what the fuck right?”

You briefly paused before responding, “What did he say about us exactly?”  

Neil sat up before he began his story, gesturing as he began, “He made a quip asking where my ball and chain was and I said “What ball and chain?” and he said you. It kinda took me aback. And really annoyed me because you would never be a ball and chain, you know. And somehow he started going on about how I should maybe be a better friend.” Your heart sank. He continued, “He said I should be more “mindful” about our relationship and I thought what the fuck, you know. I know he doesn’t really have a way with words but, god, how cryptic. Who says that? Especially about us. We’re close, right? Super close! No one really gets it!” Subconsciously or not he now had your hand in his.

“Our friendship is special you know. It means the world to me and to have that questioned made me a bit upset. Then it really got me thinking. Have I not been paying attention to you lately? Then, I started thinking about all the things I’ve been doing recently. Spending time with you know who, which by the way isn’t happening anymore.”

In all honestly, you didn’t really know who. You’d only seen her a couple of times. You interrupted him, asking what he meant.

“I broke things off with her. She was, frankly, insane, and as fun as it was it was just that. Fun. Unsustainable. Unstable. Plus, I was barely meeting up with the group. Fewer movie nights. Less time at the store. Less time together. And I thought, fuck maybe I have been a shit friend. And now that I don’t have her in my life I feel like I can actually see clearly.”

He finally took a pause and looked you in the eyes. You were stunned. Neil was always a talker but it was rare he got this candid about his relationships. When you were younger, he’d tell you almost everything, but now he rarely ever spoke about his escapades and you were grateful for it. Just when you thought it was over, he continued. 

“So, I was so fed up with Jonathan I didn’t even finish my beer. I just left. I got home and tried everything to shake the guilty feeling off of me but nothing worked. I did a- a cold shower and even made some tea. I tried to watch City Lights, but I couldn’t.”

That was your and Neil’s favorite film. You had watched it the first time when you stayed home from junior prom. You both started off by doing voices for the characters and by the end you were both touched by the film. Ever since then, that was the film you both watched when you couldn’t think of anything better for movie night. It became a ritual that wordlessly brought you closer. 

“I got really restless and upset. So, I thought I would just call you.” He broke eye contact for a moment, and you could’ve sworn he looked at your lips before making eye contact again. 

Your voice was light, “But you got here before you called.”

He shrugged, “I just got in the car and started driving.”

You chuckled at his response. “Well you know you’re always welcome.” He smiled at you before he let it falter. He seemed to hesitate before he continued talking. The shoe was about to drop.

“ I, ah. There was something I left out of the story.”

You swallowed before asking, “What?” 

“Jonathan told me about… you and… Probably not everything but he told me.” It dropped.

There was a moment of silence as the tension between the two of you grew. Your world was crashing down. You’d have a word with Jonathan soon, call him a jackass for betraying your trust. You wanted to speak and deny everything, but nothing came out. 

He spoke first. “How long?”

Without hesitation, you replied “Years.” 

He sat back and ran his fingers through his hair. He muttered what you thought was fuck under his breath, but you preferred not to listen. All you could feel was the pain in your chest as you prepared to have your heart broken. Tears started to fall before you could stop them and a small whimper left you. He wiped your tears away and leaned forward again. You were now sitting on the ground as he sat over you on the couch. Neil felt a couple tears of his own begin to fall. You both sat for a moment. His silence made it hurt even more. You were ready for his rejection to slap you in the face. The sting would last long after, you thought. You heard him speak up softly, “So you… you feel it too?” 

You hesitated, “Feel what exactly?”

He laughed at himself and clarified, “You know this, um, tugging feeling in your heart when it feels like it’s trying to tell you something.” 

You avoided his gaze, “Yeah.”

You looked down at your hands. Your fingers were now interlaced with his. Space had closed between the two of you and it was getting hard to breathe. Your heart raced and you swore his did too. He brought his free hand to your face, resting it on your cheek. You looked down at it, foreign on your skin. You looked back at him and searched his face for any sign that this was some sick joke. All you found was sincerity. He was willing and ready to risk years of friendship on the off chance that you felt the same as he did. He unraveled his hand from yours and placed it softly on your neck as he pulled you in, careful not to make any sudden movements. 

The kiss was soft, at first. As it deepened you placed your hand on his chest, not to push him away, but to feel if his heart was beating as fast as yours. It soon became breathless, both of you refusing to break for air. Your fingers ended up in his hair. You felt his tongue on your bottom lip. He was testing you and you gave in. It was feverish. You both moved in sync until, finally, you both pulled away to get some air. The room was spinning. You were kneeling after he had pulled you up. He pulled you up further and sat you down on the couch. He pulled you close to him and just held you, hoping to feel as close as possible to you. You both felt like you’d just won the lottery. He traced your arm with his fingers. You looked up at him and he was already looking at you. You slowly broke out into a smile and he did too. Soon enough you were both giggling and chuckling. It was pure bliss. He leaned in to give you another kiss. There was no testing the waters this time. He pulled away and looked into your eyes.

“What took us so long?”, he sighed. 

You whispered back, ”I don’t know.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lost 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of loss, grieving, death, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: nomad!Steve Rogers

Summary: You move into a shared flat and encounter a mysterious man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your shift ends and you’re ready to just be alone. It isn’t your first choice of work. In Sokovia, you had your own office and you worked from home on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Here, your resume can’t get you much else than the convenience store gig. Money is money. After all you’ve lost, it’s the only thing left in this world with any meaning.

You come up to the house. It’s a dour building with chipped brick and dark windows. One is covered on the inside with newspaper. The stairs to the second level creak with your steps and your keys jingle as you twist them in the lock. Everything is so loud.

Inside, the hallway is grim with shadows. You kick off your shoes before you enter and clutch the strap of your bag. You have a package of ramen left. You’ll choke that down and close your eyes.

As you come further down the hall, you slow down, odd shapes littered across the floor just outside your door. You get nearer and notice your door is open. How can that be? You always lock it. You double and even triple check.

You stop short of the mess of your meagre belongings across the floor. Three cans, carrots, beans, and pees are dented on their sides; your package of ramen is crushed, the seam split and spilling out broken noodles; your only other sweater is slashed down the front, the stitching unraveling all around the gash; and your bedding dragged off your bed and into the hallway. All that you have, not much at all, right there before you.

You look at the blackened doorway. You can see from there that the top hinge is broken, you can assume the lock is too. You don’t dare go any further as you fear someone lurking inside. You turn back to the door, contemplating whether to retreat or brave the unknown.

The lock flips back, grinding as the deadbolt slides back, and the door opens. You brace yourself as S enters. He looks perturbed even before he sees you. You press your lips together, staring at him dumbly. His eyes meet yours and his brows arch. Then his gaze falls behind you.

He reaches to flip on the light switch beside the door frame. He exhales, disappointment, and closes the door, locking it. He beckons you closer with two fingers. You’re too addled to refuse. You move towards him and sidle against the wall as he signals past you.

Almost militarily, he marches past you. He takes out his cellphone and shines the light ahead of him. His other fist balls as he nears your bedroom. He flashes the light inside as he comes to fill the doorway. You see the room glow before him as his eyes search.

“Dirty coward’s not here,” he snarls as he lowers his phone, thumbing off the light. “... find him.”

He pivots and slides his phone into his back pocket. He seems even bigger as he strides away. You gulp and follow him. 

“Um, sir, it’s–”

“Not okay,” he passes by the kitchen and through the shared front room, “that creep–”

“Really, it’s not– I don’t want to–”

“Thinks he can mess with you. I don’t like bullies,” he growls as he continues on briskly.

“Please, er, I don’t like confrontation. Or violence.”

“I’m not going to get violent,” he stops at the next hall and turns halfway, “just gonna scare him like he did you.”

“You don’t have to–”

“I do. You don’t get it but I do,” he turns back to his mission and stomps into the hall. 

You’re a few steps behind him as he gets to the furthest door. He hammers on it with his large fist. You cower and wring your hands. Your legs shake as the loud pounding rolls in your head like thunder; like buildings collapsing all around you as plumes of dust and smoke choke your lungs.

“What do you think you’re doing, you little worm?” S’s sneer fades as the sight of him grabbing the greasy man by the collar blurs to coloured orbs.

You don’t hear the man’s response or what comes next. You cover your ears and stagger back until your back meets the wall. The memories of your home falling down around you, of the streets littered with bodies, screams erupting from every corner, as horror rains from the sky.

A slam brings you back. You quiver and gasp as you look over. Your hands are clutched in tight fists against your chest, nails digging into your palms. S steps back on his heel as he glares at the closed door.

“Don’t think he’ll bother you ag…” his voice trails as he looks around, stopping short as he sees you towards the other end of the hall, “I… are you alright?”

You can’t speak or move. You just stand, blinking, trembling, as you stare back at him. He nears and you flinch out of his reach as he stretches a hand out. You force your arms down.

“I don’t like violence,” you whisper.

“I didn’t hurt him. Just scared him.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“I’m sorry, I thought…” he pauses, recalculating as you turn your chin away. “I didn’t think. I’m really sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You shrug. You shake your head and drag your feet out of the hall. You cross the front room and go back down the next. You get down and start to gather up what you can salvage. The rest you’ll sweep into the dustpan.

“What are you going to do? Door’s broken.”

You stand up with the dented cans and your pillow. “Landlord.”

“She’ll have to call someone. She won’t answer her phone either. Too late.”

“What else can I do?” You mumble and go into your room.

You wade around the darkness cautiously but the lamp isn’t where it should be. You kick it with your foot. The overhead light doesn’t work. The space is illuminated by something else. You look at the star of light in the doorway, S’s silhouette behind it as he shines his phone inward.

You peer around. The smell of piss roils off the mattress. You can’t believe it. Why would he do that? To scare you? Why? You were nice. Except you didn’t let him in last night. The memory makes you shudder.

“Real piece of work. Hopefully Muriel finally evicts him,” S says, “I’ll vouch that it was him too.”

You don’t say anything. It seems like fate is against you. You can’t even have this shitty room.

“Tell you what, you can have my room for the night. I’ll sleep on the couch. The others don’t bother me.”

You hang your head, “I can’t…”

“Well, I can’t let you stay in here. Or out on the couch. If you won’t take it, I’ll just have to sleep outside your door.”

You roll your eyes, “why?”

He sniffs and lets out a long breath, “that’s what decent people do. They help each other.”

You’re exhausted and mortified and the smell of urine is making you sick. You don’t have the energy to argue. Not with this man. Just like the shake, you won’t win.

“Just the night,” you agree, “I’ll pay you for it–”

“I won’t take the money.”

“Please,” you beg.

“Keep your money,” he insists, “I have extra sheets. I’ll get those changed.”

You nod and stay in the darkness. You hug your possessions glumly, push your lip in and out as you wallow. You just need one good thing. Just one.

“How was it? The strawberry?” He lingers just outside the door as he shuts the light off, “I never tried it.”

You swallow, “a bit too sweet.”

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 16

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Warning: Brief mention of S.A.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

Five-thirty in the morning. Monday. It had been the day I had been dreading since I’d been whisked away to Dr. Miller’s castle of mystery on Thursday evening. The crushing weight of my feelings overpowered the unanswered questions and the part I tried to ignore - the red flags. I was completely seduced by everything my professor had to offer, from his body to his perplexing home, to the way he looked at me and all of the secrecy involved. Magnetic was the only adjective I had in my mind that could accurately describe how things felt.

When my alarm sounded off, waking both of us, Dr. Miller turned it off and cuddled me close for another extra second or two, holding me from behind.

“I’m going to make you breakfast,” he explained, kissing the top of my shoulder. “Go take a shower.”

I turned to face him and our noses touched as I spoke. “Okay.”

Dr. Miller kissed me and my hand naturally moved to his face. Why did this day have to come? Would I ever get the chance to come back here? Were his words in the heat of our passionate weekend truthful, or just said in the moment?

“I’ll drop you off at work.”

It suddenly dawned on me that I had left my car on campus all weekend. Before I could say anything about it, Dr. Miller spoke, again, like he could read my thoughts.

“I had your car towed to your house,” he informed me. “It’s paid for. I just didn’t want anything to happen to it all weekend unattended.”

I opened my mouth to speak but then stopped.

“I hope that’s okay,” he added. “If there’s anything wrong with your car I’ll personally-”

“No,” I shook my head to let him know I wasn’t displeased. “Thank you.” I couldn't believe I hadn't even given a single thought to my car. And I couldn't even wrap my head around Dr. Miller having it towed to my house.

“I’ll pick you up from work, too,” Dr. Miller offered, and then added, “If you’d like.”

I smiled at him now, beginning to truly feel that the obsessive, little thoughts that had creeped into my brain were mutual. Dr. Miller wanted to be around me as much as I wanted to be around him. He was doting on me and making sure I was happy and content. I loved how he took care of my every need.

He pecked my lips and I took his face in both hands now and kissed him hard. Dr. Miller reciprocated, kissing me back with just as much intensity as he moved partially on top of me. After a whirlwind romance from Thursday night through Saturday, Sunday had been far more low key after the odd all-nighter that still left me uneasy during any downtime where I had too much time to think. I was ready to get back to the whirlwind.

Dr. Miller parted his lips from mine with a deep breath. “Save it for later.” He dove back in for another kiss, “You’ll be late for work.”

“So what.” I giggled and he kissed me hard again. “We have ten minutes to spare.”

“Mmm..” he grunted the word and I could tell there was a hint of playful frustration that lingered in his response. Dr. Miller’s hands locked mine down onto the bed and he moved fully on top of me. “You don't play fair.”

“Neither do you.”

I made it to work on time that morning - barely. When he dropped me off near the main entrance of the building I was thankful no one I was close with was around to ask questions.

Dr. Miller left me with a steamy kiss behind the tinted windows of his Mercedes and tapped beneath my chin with his first two fingers.

“I'll be back at three-thirty,” he assured me.

“Okay.” Our lips touched again and he waited until I was inside before driving off.

Things almost felt foreign when I walked in through the doors of the building I had been working in for so long. It wasn't the surroundings. I felt different.

“Feeling better?” One of my coworkers greeted me with a smile as I entered the office.

“A lot better.” I smiled back., “Thanks.”

All day behind my desk I went through the motions, but my mind was elsewhere. Thankfully everything on my plate that day was routine and I didn't have to think too hard about what I was doing.

My mind flashed back to all the highlights of the weekend. If I was being completely honest with myself, it was the best weekend of my life.

But where did he go Saturday night?

I knew, in time, I had to ask. I had to know.

The hours ticked by like molasses in winter. Each time I paid attention to the clock it had only ticked by in small increments.

Am I being toxic? I wondered. Is my current obsession truly unhealthy, or is it normal to feel this way about someone early in the relationship? Am I Dr. Miller’s girlfriend? Am I just some random girl to him? I didn't think the last one was true. I wasn't the most intuitive person out there, but I knew I couldn't be reading this wrong. The man dropped me off at work and offered to pick me up. He could've politely suggested I go home at any point in our long weekend together but he didn't.

I breathed and looked at the clock again, suddenly wondering where I would be sleeping that night. Another wave of excitement and anxiety washed over me at the thought. I truly felt like my brain chemistry was being altered from all the dopamine releases as of late. I wasn't complaining, but I hadn't exactly relaxed or turned my brain off for an extended period of time for well over a week - possibly a little longer.

“Hey (Y/N).” My coworker, Olivia, wheeled her chair across the low, blue carpet.

“Hey.” I smiled. “What's up?”

“You're taking classes down at Woodbridge, right?”

There was the adrenaline shot again. Anything that had to do with Woodbridge or Dr. Miller instantly put me into that hyper alert mode.

“Yeah.” I nodded nonchalantly, masking it all rather easily.

“How crazy is it about those girls who were killed?”

“I know.” I shook my head. “I was in class nearby when they found the first body. There was a whole crowd gathered around and reporters and stuff.”

“Wild.”

“I know.”

“At least they have a suspect in mind.”

“What? They do.” Olivia had my attention now.

“Yeah, it was on the news this morning. The police even raided his house this morning but he wasn't there.”

“Who is he?”

“Some guy named Alec Pryor. Registered sex offender, confessed to some seriously messed up shit in the past.”

I shuddered. “That's so scary.” I cringed. “And he was just lurking on campus.. waiting.. ugh.”

“Yeah apparently he got released back in, like, April.”

“They should never let those guys out.”

“Right!” Olivia nodded. “Sexual assault is the lowest kind of crime you can commit. The absolute worst. They should just kill those guys. Get rid of ‘em.”

“I know.” I scrunched my nose and shook my head. “So, where is he then? Did they pick him up somewhere else?”

My work friend whipped out her cell phone and began typing furiously with her thumbs before staring at the screen. She scrolled for a moment and adjusted her circular glasses before pausing as she read up on something.

“This article says..” Olivia angled her body toward mine. “They have yet to find him.” She made a face that broke the tension and made me crack a faint smile. “But they're on the hunt for him, currently.”

“Yikes.”

“Don't go anywhere alone when you're near that campus,” she advised.

“They'll catch him,” I said, only slightly confident that that was true.

“I hope so.”

“So crazy.” I repeated the name to myself. “Alec Pryor.”

“Looks like a creep.” Olivia turned her phone around and showed me a picture of the scowling, middle-aged man in a former mug shot.

“They should post his face all over the place so people are aware,” I said.

“I think they are.” She scrolled some more, “Oo, this one is calling it a ‘manhunt’.”

“That means he's on the run,” I said and added, mostly to make myself feel more secure. “He's probably hours away by now.”

Olivia shuddered and rolled back to her desk. “Be careful. That's all I'm sayin’. This is exactly why I have two German Shepherds.”

“I don't blame you.” I sighed, welcoming the interaction. It was a perfect distraction. I needed it to get my overdriven hormones somewhat back to neutral.

A little female bonding did just that, helping the work day move along a little faster.

When the day finally neared its end, I caught a glance of the Mercedes out one of the many windows in the office. I smiled to myself and hurried to finish up the last of my work and respond to the last few emails.

The time between three-fifteen and three-thirty felt like hours. As soon as the minute hand aligned vertically with the number six, I grabbed my coat and headed out the doors with a quick farewell to everybody.

I didn’t know if anyone was looking when I hopped into the passenger side of Dr. Miller’s car. I didn’t care. All I cared about was the man sitting behind the wheel.

“Hey, baby.” He flashed a cool smile in my direction as I climbed in and I slammed the door behind me.

“I love it when you call me that.” I leaned over and we shared a smoldering kiss. Again, I was thankful for the tints. I was breathless when our lips parted and settled beside him in the vehicle. Dr. Miller rested a hand on my knee as he put the car in drive and cruised out of the parking lot.

“Why don’t you let me drive you home,” he said.

I swallowed hard when he didn’t say anything more. Home? I had to go home and sit there and think of him and what he might be doing? I had to sleep without him? I had to-

“I’ll help you pack some things and then you can..” Dr. Miller shrugged, “Decide how long you want to stay at my place.”

Fuck. I calmed down immediately from the insanely frantic thoughts he caused by the dramatic pause. There was the push and pull of emotions again.

“How long am I welcome for?”

“For as long as you decide.” Dr. Miller glanced over at me as we drove and we both smirked.

“Well, then I better pack heavy.”

Dr. Miller’s grin widened as he stared out at the road. “Suit yourself.’

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17

[mybiasisexo]

holdddddsupppp you got a drabble game open HOW DID I MISS THIS. if you’re still accepting may i kindly request 33 & 36 with chanyeol please and thank you!

Fantasy 🎀

Genre: smut | nonidol!au Pairing: Chanyeol x f.Reader Length: 1.8k Warnings: language | phone sex | explicit sexual scenes

a/n: this is lowkey nassssty 👅 but why do i find it wholesome??? lol. anywhooo writing stuff like this is not good for my thirst yall see what i do for you???? lmao

DRABBLE GAME | MASTERLIST

“Who shall I be for you tonight, Mr. Park?” You ask into the phone. You lean back into the pile of pink pillows on your king-sized bed.

“I want to switch it up tonight, if you don’t mind.” The sexily deep voice on the other end of the line had your stomach doing backflips. It’s easy to do your job whenever you have to deal with this client, especially with a voice like that.

“I never mind when it comes to you, Mr. Park.”

The sound of his sensual laugh makes you bite your lip. “You’ll need to bear with me. It’s not my normal request.” “I’m all ears.”

Mr. Park is your most loyal customer. He calls every Thursday night. You don’t know much about him. You don’t know what he looks like or what he does for work, but you know he’s a busy man–too busy for a physical lover. That’s where you come in. You fill that empty role for him, allowing him to seek the intimacy he lacks in his real life. Unlike most of your customers, who only call for a quick nut, Mr. Park is into roleplay. You never know what scenario he’ll create for you to bring to life and you find it exciting. You find the mysterious man very exciting. It helps that he pays handsomely for your service. 

He’s somber when he speaks again. “I’m currently away on a business trip, and as I take in this stunning view out the window of my hotel I can’t help but feel….” he pauses as he searches for the right words. “Lonely.”

You remain quiet. He’s setting the scene, but you can’t help but think he’s being vulnerable with you.

“I’d like for you to help with that. Can you make me forget my loneliness? Just for tonight? Could we pretend that we’re in love?”

You gasp at his request. You’re sure it goes against sex work code to blur the lines like this, but on the other hand, it’s your job to cater to his whims. If his sexual desire is to be romantic, to be loved, then that’s what you’ll provide. Honestly, you could use a bit of intimacy as well.

Curling onto your side, you cup your phone against your ear. “How’s the view?”

You must have startled him, because it takes him a second to answer. You hear the shuffling of sheets as he also adjusts in his bed and hear a smile through the line. “It’s gorgeous. The sun is setting now, and the ocean is sparkling…. You’d love it.”

“Send me a picture.”

You imagine him shaking his head. “I did take a few. Doesn’t do it justice though.” He sighs wistfully. “I wish you were here to see it for yourself.”

You smile softly. “I wish I was there too.” It’s your turn to sigh. “I just wish I was with you.”

He lets out a husky chuckle. “Does my baby miss me that much?”

Your heart lurches at the pet name. It takes you aback and you can hear him laugh at your shocked silence.

“More than you know,” you choke out. “When will you be back?”

“Soon, Baby.”

“You’re supposed to say that you’re getting on a plane right now because you can’t bear another second without me.”

He barks a laugh, it’s loud and genuine, causing you to giggle from its sincerity. “I’ll get right on that then.”

“And what are you going to do when you return?” You ask, pushing the conversation in the direction you get paid for it to go.

“First thing I’m going to do is take you out on a very expensive date.”

“Ooh,” you purr. “Ilike where this is going.”

“I thought you would. After that, we’ll go back home and take a hot shower. Clean the day off.”

“Okay,” you encourage.

He hesitates for dramatic effect. “And then I'm going to make love to you.”

“You will, huh?”

“Uh-huh. Gonna fuck you so good, you’ll forget I ever left to begin with.”

“That’s quite the plan you got there,” you say. It’s meant to be teasing, but you’re too breathless. It’s a dead giveaway to your growing desire.

“Aw,” he coos. “Got you a little worked up?”

“A little,” you admit.

“Let me help with that.” His voice drops a few octaves, vibrating against your ear. You can’t help but moan at the sound, having grown a bit obsessed with his voice. It’s the only physical bit of information you have of his real identity, and it drives you crazy.

“Please,” you beg.

He then proceeds to direct you to touch yourself. He always makes you build your pleasure, makes you tease yourself until you’re begging him to let you finger your throbbing, soaking core. He teases himself as well. It’s not until he hears your wonton moaning and the squelching of your wetness that he even bothers releasing himself from the painful confines of his pants. The sound of him unbuckling his pants is another thing about him that drives you crazy, and he’s fully aware of it.

You aren’t sure how much time passes as you both chase your highs. The only things that can be heard are heavy breathing, moans, and encouraging words.

“Let me see you,” he suddenly asks. “Please. I have to see your face when you cum.”

That has you freezing. Your anonymity is a part of the fantasy. You can be anything Mr. Park wants when he has no image to compare you to. It works both ways. It’s a form of confidentiality, of protection for you. That being said, you’ve always been curious about what Mr. Park looks like.

Blame it on the lustful haze, but you succumb to his request. “O–okay.”

Your phone instantly vibrates, the screen revealing a facetime request. Your heart is hammering so hard in your chest you can feel it in your ears. With a shaky hand, you answer the call and close your eyes, terrified of his initial reaction of finally seeing you.

It’s silent for an unbearably long time. Just as you’re about to hang up, he lets out a whistle. “You’re more beautiful than anything I could’ve conjured.”

Shocked, your eyes spring open. And then your jaw drops at what greets you.

Mr. Park is dangerously handsome. Not to stereotype, but you always feel only unattractive incels pay for phone sex. But with a voice like that, you knew Mr. Park couldn’t possibly be ugly. You’ve wondered numerous times what was wrong with him to have him resort to phone sex, but then remember it’s his job. 

The first thing to captivate you is his large dark eyes that currently are hooded over with desire. His olive skin is tinted pink and gleaming with sweat. His dark silky hair is pushed back, revealing the lovely shape of his face as well as endearingly large ears. He has a strong nose that your lust-filled mind wants to immediately ride, as well as full devastating lips you crave to taste and feel all over your body.

“So are you,” you let out without thought, too engrossed in his image.

He chuckles, and the sound has your empty core aching. “Well, thank you. I’m glad you find me attractive.”

“I always knew you would be.”

He hums and leans back against the headboard, staring.

“What?” You whisper, feeling self-conscious.

“Nothing.” He grins and it’s so boyish and playful, you fight back a shiver. “I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“I–er, sorry.” You slide down your bed so that you’re lying flat on the mattress, instead of propped up on the pillows, and hold your phone high over yourself. This allows him to see your body cladded in sexy lingerie. You pan the phone lower, to where your other hand has disappeared into your panties. Mr. Park doesn’t even blink as he watches the show, taking everything in as he starts to slowly pump himself.

“Can’t believe you were hiding all this from me,” he grunts. “Don’t get me wrong, your voice definitely does the job, but fuck, Baby. You’re perfection.”

His words have you blushing. “I wish you were here to touch me.” You lift the phone up so that your face is back in the frame. “To taste me. I want to show you just how perfect I can be.”

He groans and it sounds so devastated you can’t help but giggle.

The two of you start back where you left off. It’s intensely intimate with the way you both lose yourselves in each other’s eyes. You’ve never done this before and can’t deny the little thrill you feel at being able to see the man on the other side. Trust Mr. Park to keep things adventurous.

You come first. With a sharp gasp, you start convulsing, nearly dropping the phone with how powerful your orgasm is.

“That’s right,” Mr. Park praises. “Come on those fingers for me. So damn beautiful.”

He’s right behind you. A growl is ripped from his throat as he’s hit with his own release. His hips buck as he paints his exposed abdomen.

You’re both panting heavily in the aftermath. With some effort, you rearrange your pillows so that you can lean your phone against them instead of holding it. Laying on your side, you watch as Mr. Park dips his finger into his mess, lifting it up to watch it stretch out.

“Lemme taste,” you say, opening your mouth like you’re accepting food.

He laughs that sincere loud laugh from earlier and shakes his head, dropping his hand lifelessly at his side. “Freak.”

“That’s what you pay me for,” you say with a wink.

He shakes his head again. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

“Get off to my face?”

“Yeah,” he nearly moans. “There’s a reason why I keep coming back, you know?”

You purse your lips. “I thought it was my way with words?”

“That too. But, I just… I’ve always felt drawn to you.”

You smile and he tilts his head, the action feels affectionate.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “I really needed that today.”

“It’s my pleasure,” you say as seductively as you can post-nut. Growing just as serious you admit, “I needed it too.”

His expression softens with understanding .

“Our time is up,” you tell him, trying to brush off this new affection growing between you both. “Good night, Mr. Park.”

“It’s Chanyeol,” he says right as you’re about to end the call.

“I’m sorry?”

“My name.” he clears his throat nervously. “It’s Chanyeol.”

You blink at the revelation. The name suits him, you decide. It’s better than anything you could’ve guessed it to be. Feeling you have to return the favor, and leave him with a thankful parting gift, you reveal your real name as well.

His smile is blinding as he repeats it. “Gorgeous. Just like you.”

“Always laying it on thick, Chanyeol.”

He smirks. “I just wanted to hear you say my name.” You narrow your eyes at him and he’s laughing again. “See you next week.”

You hang up, stomach fluttering from what you just did. You know it’s wrong, but you’re way too eager for your next appointment with Chanyeol.

[frodo-with-glasses]

More Reading Thoughts: A Long-Expected Party

There’s something so incredibly endearing about the slow, meandering beginning of LotR.

Even today—in a day and age when every author tries to grab you by the eyeballs in the first five words—Tolkien’s writing still has that gentle, irresistible draw that takes you by the hand and leads you slowly but surely into adventure. Something about a “birthday party of special magnificence” just appeals to all our inner children, I think; and the tiny mysteries, and the joy of a world of fantastical creatures living in peace and comfort, just adds to that. You want to go to Middle Earth, and you want to get lost in it. It’s like a lazy river at a water park; you wade in, get settled, and relax, and the next thing you know you’re far away from where you started.

All of that to say, Tolkien’s writing is goals and I aspire to be even a fraction of what this man was someday.

Anyway. To the bullet points!

Isn’t it hilarious how quick people are to begrudge one another their good fortune?? If Bilbo had been poor and died in a timely manner his neighbors would probably have liked him just fine, but he gets a lot of wealth and lives a long time and all the hobbits go >:-(

They’re not wrong to be suspicious, of course, but it’s still a biting social commentary. And very funny!

“As Mr. Baggins was generous with his money, most people were willing to forgive him his oddities and his good fortune.” ���

“You should come live with me so we can celebrate our birthday parties more comfortably together” belongs in the same category as C. S. Lewis’ “and they got so used to arguing that they married each other to keep doing it more conveniently”

“And suddenly, all the old people found that everyone actually WANTED to hear their rambling stories!”

GAFFER GAMGEE MY BELOVED

Hobbits are all so terribly prejudiced. What endearing morons.

Ooh, confirmation that Bilbo and Frodo look similar!

“There never was much to tell of him! … Till he was drownded.” “DROWNDED??”

I love that the only things we know about Drogo Baggins are that he was unremarkable and fat and married a strange woman

The Gaffer: “Thank goodness Mr. Bilbo saved young Mr. Frodo from those strange, dastardly Bucklanders…”

Meanwhile, Merry feels his eye Twitch and doesn’t know why 🤣

The spelling of jewels as “jools” is adorable for reasons I can’t describe

Tiny Gaffer Gamgee saw Bilbo come home from his Adventure!!

The Gaffer’s words are strangely prophetic. Sam did indeed land in trouble that was bigger than him—and thank goodness he did.

The Gaffer basically says here “if generosity is being strange, we could do with a lot more strangeness!” and honestly that’s a motto I want to live by

I love that Sam is most likely the one who started the rumor about the fireworks X-D

I wish we’d gotten to see the Dwarves visiting Bag End in the movies. It’s a shame they were cut. Imagine what cool costumes they could have had!

“G for grand!” and Gandalf’s smile. Ugh, my heart 🥹

Pity that September 22nd fell on a Friday this year. We were so close to it being a Thursday, like in the book! Oh well. Try again another year, I guess X-D

Are small business owners grumbling about your purchases from foreign parts?? Here’s an easy solution! Just BUY OUT THE STOCK OF EVERYONE FOR MILES AROUND IMMEDIATELY AFTERWARDS

Also the fact that the post offices are absolutely flooded 🤣 Bilbo, you madlad

“Old Gaffer Gamgee stopped even pretending to work on his garden” LOL

The brief paragraph of NOOO BAD WEATHER THE DAY BEFORE THE PARTY is honestly spectacular. It’s so nerve-wracking for just a second there—which is hilarious in light of the war and death and GIANT SPIDERS we’re going to read about. I think it has a flavor of Tolkien’s beliefs on eucatastrophe hidden in there—it’s not out of Bilbo’s own effort that the weather cleared up just in time for his party, it was just happy providence—but I’m too tired to write an essay about it right now.

“Half the Shire’s been invited…and the rest of them are turning up anyway!”

The hobbits who came through the gate again to get a second present 🤣🤣🤣

“The hobbit-children were so excited that for a while they almost forgot about eating.” That’s impressive!!

I love that some of the toys are dwarven-made. That’s such a cool detail that makes the world seem both fantastical (because dwarves!) and real (because you can Amazon order toys from them!) at the same time.

The names of the fireworks!! Especially the ones that are onomatopoeia, like “backarappers”! It just makes brain go ✨✨✨

Pfffft, yellow rain

There’s the express train reference!

Notable difference here: in the movies, the big dragon firework was set off ahead of schedule by Merry and Pippin, and all the hobbits freak out. In the book, the big dragon firework is set off right on time to signal supper, and all the hobbits freak out (but are immediately pacified by food).

Small detail I’d like to see in more fanfics: “Bilbo had been specializing in food for many years, and his table had a high reputation.” Yes, the idea of Bilbo and Frodo eating like the bachelors they are is hilarious, BUT! We have textual evidence to the contrary! I don’t know if this line means that Bilbo was a magnificent cook himself or simply hired magnificent cooks, but either way, it’s canon that the Bag End bachelors ate like kings!

“The feast was so incredible that everyone was incredibly full and took home leftovers and no one bought any new groceries for weeks. The good news is that Bilbo had bought out all the grocery stores anyway, so it was fine.”

Why is the detail about the golden buttons on Bilbo’s waistcoat so enchanting to me?? I really think this chapter just activates the Inner Child Mode in my brain, and suddenly even something as simple as shiny buttons becomes beautiful and magical. Also it’s just a lovely way to paint a vivid picture in my mind.

I’m so glad they kept so many of the jokes in Bilbo’s speech for the movies 🤣 “PROUDFEET!!”

And now here we see Tolkien, author of the fantasy epic that has defined the genre for a century and counting, unironically using caps lock. Folks, you can’t make this crap up.

The sneaky way Tolkien says Bilbo vanished before he mentions the flash of light is Very Good and hints at the fact that there’s something else at work here

Rory Brandybuck is the G.O.A.T.

“But at the same time he felt deeply troubled: he realized suddenly that he loved the old hobbit dearly.” Aww, Frodo…

Incredible that the debate between Bilbo and Gandalf over the Ring takes up almost four pages, but it doesn’t feel like it. Excellent suspense.

I wonder where Gandalf is going “to bed”. It doesn’t look like he’s staying in Bag End, so did he get a room at an inn somewhere? Is he sleeping in his cart??

Also it’s implied later in the book that Gandalf the White doesn’t sleep. Inconsistency?? A slight untruth?? Secret powerup to Gandalf the White that we’ve overlooked??

“The sun rose. The hobbits rose rather later.” Pffft

The SHADE in all the presents oh my WORD

Except for the ones for the poorer hobbits. Bilbo’s gift for the Gaffer is so simple in its contents, and yet so generous and thoughtful 🥹

MERRY MY LAD

MY FAVORITE HOBBIT (don’t tell the others)

How old would Merry have been here?? Like nineteen?? Incredible that he was already such a logistics guy that Frodo trusted him to keep an eye on the house while all the chaos is happening.

“Do you hear that, Merry? That was an insult, if you like.” “It was a compliment, and so, of course, not true.” HAHAHAHA DRAG HIM MERRY

“IF YOU DON’T LET ME IN, FRODO, I SHALL BLOW YOUR DOOR RIGHT DOWN YOUR HOLE AND OUT THROUGH THE HILL” 🤣🤣🤣

Frodo: “I’m so sorry, I thought you were Lobelia!” Gandalf: “Understandable, have a nice day”

“I would give them Bag End and everything else, if I could get Bilbo back and go off tramping in the country with him.” N’aww, Frodoooo 😭

“Look out for me, especially at unlikely times!” Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.…

“Frodo did not see him again for a long time.” Ooh, ominous.

[mariacallous]

When Katie Santry picks up the call, the police have just finished their investigation. It’s 10 pm on Thursday, and, she says, cops are staying outside her Columbus, Ohio, home all night. She’s candid and friendly for someone going through what she is. Local news and curious neighbors have been outside much of the day. Online, hundreds of thousands of people have become voyeurs in her saga. Police are standing guard around the clock.

This is what happens when you ask TikTok if your house is haunted.

A few days ago, Santry and her boyfriend were putting in a fence in their yard and noticed a strange object while digging: something that appeared to be a rolled-up rug buried in the ground. A few days later, the 34-year-old opened her laptop to find the screen cracked and items on her desk misplaced. Her boyfriend and their kids said they didn’t have anything to do with it. She posted a TikTok talking about the rug and wondering aloud if her home was haunted: “I’m literally shaking.”

Santry went viral. The video currently has more than 3.1 million views.

Online sleuths—“motherfuckers,” Santry calls them—began pestering her for updates, telling her to dig up the rug, call the police. Eventually she did call, but the cops opted not to investigate further after seeing the rug.

On Thursday morning, however, Santry posted that she and some friends were going to dig up the rug later that day. Before she could, homicide investigators from the Columbus Police Department called and said they were coming. They brought cadaver dogs.

As the police searched, Santry went Live on TikTok. Investigators brought two dogs. The first one sat, indicating it smelled human remains. The second one did the same. Santry “started crying on the Live” and stopped the feed. (WIRED tried calling the public information office for the Columbus Police Department to seek comment, and the voicemail box was full. A spokesperson told The Columbus Dispatch on Friday that what was buried in Santry’s yard “could be anything” and that police were still investigating.)

“If I don’t get on a murder podcast after this, I’m going to be pissed,” Santry said in a post later Thursday night. “I’m not trying to, like, make a joke out of it … I’m absolutely freaked out, and this is how I handle things: dark humor.”

WIRED spoke to Santry late on Thursday night about that feed, being hounded online, and what it’s like when a true-crime admirer finds themselves at the center of their own episode.

Angela Watercutter: Hi, how are you?

Katie Santry: I am …

Sorry, I realized that was the wrong question as soon as I started saying it.

Yeah. I naturally almost went, “I'm good! How are you?” But it's been a day.

I guess I'll just go right into it. What is happening at your house right now? I think you said on TikTok that the police were staying overnight.

So there's two or three police officers outside the house right now. They're staying overnight, and then they are planning on having crime scene investigators here tomorrow morning.

How is that affecting your life? Obviously it's upside down, I would imagine.

I'm technically trying to protect our address as much as possible. Actually, there was a Live going on TikTok with thousands of people in it and a few people hosting it, and one of them apparently lives in my neighborhood, and I actually popped on and asked them to stop talking about where we live because they were describing my house and they were saying that we left and that the police made us leave. I came on and I basically said, “Hey, we're still here, and I would really like it if you'd stop explaining exactly what our house looks like and where we live.”

They actually ended the Live, which I appreciated. But I know there's a few others going on right now too.

A few other Lives in your neighborhood?

Not in my neighborhood. There's just a lot of Lives going on currently on TikTok of people talking about it and trying to figure out where I live, who I am.

Right. Everyone’s an investigator now. When you replied to my email earlier, you said you were locking down your Facebook. I imagine that was also part of this, right?

I was trying to make my Facebook private. I was trying to edit my name on Facebook just to help protect myself. Where I work and all that stuff was public on my Facebook. So yeah, I was just trying to edit that down to help myself.

It’s so wild to me when somebody goes viral, people will find out so many things so quickly.

My sister went into a Live and said that people are trying to figure out where I work. My sister's freaking out. So luckily we have two large dogs. We have an alarm system, and we have three police officers outside. So I feel safe.

But it's definitely bringing anxiety, everything that happened tonight, because I honestly expected the [police cadaver] dogs to find nothing and to put a bow on this and wrap it up and say, “OK, this has been fun, but it's done now.”

Have the police said anything more? I imagine they're done for this evening now.

The detectives that were here today are going to come back, and the police that are here tonight are just maintaining the crime scene and keeping our house safe.

Did you imagine any of this happening when you posted that first TikTok about your computer being broken?

Not in a million years. Basically when I came downstairs and I saw my laptop was shattered, and everyone is saying that they didn't do it, it was like, “It was the ghost from the dead body in the rug.” It was a joke. Then I posted that and everyone's like, “No, but really what's in the rug?” I had no intent of digging it out.

After it blew up, I did call the police. They came out, they looked at it, they called somebody and whoever they called was not interested in it at all. So they left and they said we could dig it out ourselves, and if we found anything, we could call them back.

Do you wonder, because you had said this morning on TikTok that you were going to dig it up yourselves, that that’s what perhaps got the police to come back?

I'm sure that's why they ended up here, because the virality of what was happening, if we had found something and the world already knew that they were here and gone and they didn't care, I think the Columbus Police Department would've been under an immense amount of fire.

How have they been communicating with you about this?

They were so nice. They were telling me how the dogs are trained. That these dogs can go to a cemetery and mark on a body that was buried a hundred years ago, and that's just wild to me. TMI, not to gross you out, but humans smell very different as they decompose than animals. So that's how they're able to decipher the difference between a dead dog and a dead person.

But they did say that there's a potential that someone had a bloody nose or cut themselves, and there's just blood [on the rug]. So there's not necessarily … I'm banking on the fact that hopefully there's not actually a body, and it maybe is just they caught wind of something else.

How does it feel at the center of all of this? I think you called folks on TikTok “impatient little bitches” for constantly asking you for updates.

They're impatient motherfuckers, that's for sure.

Tell me about that. In some ways, maybe this will help you find some resolution, but people can also be intense about these things.

If it wasn't for TikTok, I never would've called the police. I felt so silly calling them that very first time and saying, “Hey, there's a rug in the ground. I don't know if you care, but come on by if you do.” I felt so dumb making that call.

But honestly, and I told the police right after the dog hit, I looked at the detectives and I was like, if it wasn't for TikTok, this would've never happened. Obviously we don't know what's going to unfold in the coming days, but if something does, I don't know, get solved, it wouldn't have happened without TikTok. So I appreciate their impatient motherfucker bitchy attitudes.

Yes, I bet.

But there were times where it was overwhelming because I was out of town and a lot of people were getting really frustrated that I wasn't digging and I wasn't moving it faster, but I was not home. So that was kind of overwhelming to have thousands of people basically yelling at you over the internet. I was responding to some of them, and I was like, “I'm not there. I am literally working. TikTok isn't my job.” I didn't anticipate it to do what it has done.

This all started like four or five days ago. How many followers have you gathered in that amount of time?

I went from, let's see, I haven't honestly been on TikTok in hours. I went from 6,000 to 576,000, so I've gained 570,000 followers.

[Editor's note: As of this writing, she now has 1.6 million followers.]

Geez.

This is insane. That's the first time I've looked and seen it. This morning, I was at 200 something, so just today I've gone from 200,000 something to half a million people. That's the first time I've looked.

I'm sorry I made you look, to be honest.

No, it's so insane.

I'm interested in the sleuth aspect. I know because you've said in a couple of your TikToks that you are a true-crime aficionado.

Absolutely.

I'm sure you understand the sort of impulse of why people do this, but it seems like a reversal to now be potentially the center.

I feel like I’m in an episode of Crime Junkie. I usually just listen to it as I drive to work, and now I feel like I'm in an episode, so I'm like, where's Ashley Flowers? Where is she at? We need to talk. Yeah.

I was alone for the first time, just now, for a minute without my phone blowing up. I just took a deep breath and I'm like, I've watched this happen to other people in movies, and the fact that it's happening to me is blowing my mind.

Maybe this sounds like an obvious question, but does it feel different? There are a lot of conversations about the impact of people’s fascination with true crime. Has there been a moment where it got more real, in a way?

So when I was on the Live, I was singing Jeopardy! songs, because between the detectives getting here and the dogs getting here was 45 minutes. So I kept saying, “This is the commercial break,” and I full-on thought not a chance in hell was this going to happen. This was a fun ending to a crazy story, and what a cool way to end this whole thing. The dogs see nothing. They leave, case closed. That's what I was expecting.

Then the dogs smelled something.

Yeah, that first dog sat, and I audibly in the video, you hear me go and I start shaking, and that's when it became real to me. The second that white dog sat, I was like, “This just got so different.”

I bet.

You see things like this on social media and you're like, “Oh, that's so insane. One in a million.” To be that one in a million, I can't even put it into words how out-of-body … I keep feeling like I am just going to wake up, and this was all just a crazy dream.

A couple days ago you were making T-shirts.

Well, back when we, I think we had just hit 10,000 followers, we made T-shirts that said, “Just keep digging.” Again, it was a joke. Then other T-shirts that said, “I'm just here for the update.” Pretty much what every comment on my videos would say.

So yeah, my sister works in graphic design, so she made the designs and yeah, This was a funny, haha, let's ride the wave and then move it into something different once this is all done.

Was there a moment in this where it went from “Is this a haunting?” to “This might actually be something”?

The second the dog sat. Until then, I was like, this is so crazy, and I'm glad that the police are crossing their T's and dotting their I's, but this is going to be nothing, and this is just going to be funny. OK, well, we're done now. This has been fun. Thanks for watching. When that dog sat, I can't even express the shock that head to toe went through my body of no fucking way.

Also, you have a family and kids.

Yeah, and that's really when I started to panic when the dogs sat and the kids were in the house. Honestly, the panic set when the cameras got here, because my boyfriend's daughter was—she cried, she was getting upset, she was getting kind of freaked out, and that's when I was like, oh, Mylanta, this is a real thing now that's going to start happening to our family. Before this, it was just my TikTok, me making these videos and the kids weren't involved.

So the news cameras got there when the police arrived?

The news cameras got there when the dogs got there, I think, and it's probably because of my Live, so I very much brought it on myself, not even unintentionally, I guess, because I knew it was going to get some attention, but I didn't anticipate what happened.

Well, news stations often listen to police scanners, so that’s not all on you.

Yeah, it could have happened before or without my TikTok, but I definitely started panicking at that moment.

So often with TikToks, they’re one-off. There’s a resolution in the video. Watching this unfold on TikTok in real time has gotten a lot of people involved.

Without TikTok, I never would've called the police. So as much as these, like I said, impatient little bitches were driving me crazy, I told the police while we were standing here, that if it wasn't for these people pushing me to do this, we would've just put in our fence post and called it a day.

Updated 10-04-2024, 5:45pm ET: Shortly after this interview published, Katie Santry made a new post on TikTok claiming that there were no human remains discovered during the dig on her property.

[sunnyrealist]

Chapter 60: Take Care

The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars

Summary and Details…

Previous Chapter Recap/Context: Sebastian is in a great mood after hearing back from his friend Ruby, who wrote that she wanted to meet to catch up and share some information with him about Anne. Kate, never having connected the dots previously, finally realized that Ruby was the "Hero of Hogwarts" - the girl who had mysteriously arrived at Hogwarts as a fifth year in 1890. Later, Kate reveals some exciting news - when she met with Matilda Weasley, she posed the idea of having Sebastian help her with library work over a summer weekend, and the deputy headmistress had agreed. Sebastian and Kate both get a little hot and bothered, imagining all of the things they could do in the unoccupied castle, but before things get too heavy, Seb realizes that Kate is supposed to be on her monthly cycle. She admits rather worriedly that she hasn't bled, and the two of them panic, wondering if she is pregnant. This chapter picks up on the evening of the following day.

Pairing: 25-year-old, post-Azkaban Sebastian Sallow x 24-year-old Kate Mayflower (my OC), the assistant librarian at Hogwarts

Content warnings: In general, this is rated 18+, so minors should not read or interact with this story. In this chapter, there's a big focus on a woman's monthly cycle. Also featured is panic over parental disapproval and worrying about a dangerous job.

The full chapter is available below the cut; it can also be found on AO3 (link is posted below). Please leave some feedback if possible, especially if you like what you read! 🥰

Chapter 60: Take Care

“Seb, Seb!” Kate cries, sprinting outside the moment she sees him apparate near the gate.

He looks her way in both confusion and adoration, unsure if her tone is one of romance or one of concern. He closes the gate behind him and his girlfriend barrels into his arms. He wraps his arms around her, picking her up.

“Hello, sunshine,” he murmurs, embracing her tightly. He kisses her, and then puts her back down on solid ground.

“I got it!” Kate tells him breathlessly. 

“Got what?” he asks, and a beat later, it dawns upon him. His eyebrows raise in hope.

“My monthly courses,” she replies. “I bled. I’m not pregnant!” 

Sebastian lifts her back up and twirls her around, pressing his lips to hers enthusiastically. “Oh, thank the gods. Thank bloody Merlin!”

She chuckles, poking his chest. “I guess I was just a bit late. We didn’t have to worry after all.”

Kate takes his hand, leading him inside. He drops his satchel by the door, then unlaces and removes his shoes with a sigh. Next, he loosens his tie and unfastens the top buttons of his collared shirt, untucking it from his pants. “It’s been a hell of a long day. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” she answers with an amused smile. “You’re home. You get to be comfortable here.”

Dinner is simple but delicious - aged cheddar cheese toasties with a roasted tomato soup. Sebastian wolfs down two helpings with cider and gratefully accepts her dessert - a warm cinnamon apple cake with vanilla ice cream. He regales Kate with stories about his long day, finally asking about hers.

“Oh, nothing all that exciting happened,” she murmurs. “Just did some chores around the cottage. I worked in the garden most of the afternoon, then did some cleaning and laundry. I also wrote some letters.”

“Sounds like you were busy,” he replies, taking the last sip of his cider. “To whom did you write?”

She inhales deeply and hesitates for a moment. “After all the worrying with my lack of… well, bleeding… and knowing you’re going to be miserable for a couple of days working with the Kelpies, I figured I might as well get something tough out of the way for myself. I wrote to my family, requesting a luncheon together next week on Thursday. I don’t think I can avoid my mum much longer now that she knows I’m dating someone.” She sighs. “It’s… time for me to tell them about you.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows raise. “I didn’t realize you felt ready. I thought that might take a while.”

“Yeah, but with what could have happened, I’d rather they at least know who you are in case anything serious really does happen,” Kate explains. “It’s for the best, my love.”

He nods in response, but his eyes betray his obvious internal anxiety. He’s quiet for a moment, but then once he starts talking, it devolves quickly into blabbering. “And… What if they forbid you to see me? What if they say they’ll never approve of our relationship? What if they hate me? What if they think I’m just… a thug? Or see me as someone trying to take advantage of you? What if they try to separate us?”

Kate listens, then silences him with a kiss. When she pulls away, she murmurs, “Seb, I obviously want this to all go well, but if it doesn’t… I don’t care. I’m an adult. We’re adults. We make our own choices. I love you. You’re my soulmate. They can’t separate us. And I won’t ever abandon you.”

Sebastian studies her face for any sign of doubt, even though she’s previously reassured him of these same fears many times now. She stares back confidently at him, and he relaxes a bit.

“You’re the only man I’ll love for the rest of my life,” she whispers while intertwining her fingers with his. “We were born to be together. You’re the moon to my sun.” She kisses his cheek. “If they don’t understand at first, it isn’t the end of the world. Someday, they’ll see the strength of our love, our connection… and imagining me with anyone else will be impossible.” She presses her lips to his, tasting sweet apples. “I love you, Seb. I’ll love you forever.”

He takes a shaky breath. “I love you, too, Kate. I just get nervous… and I know - I bloody well know - it’s my mind playing tricks on me, but I can’t help it. I still feel like everything that has happened with you is… too good to be true, and the rug is about to be swept out from under me… by your family, no less. It terrifies me because I love you so much. I love you so much it hurts.”

Almost as if on cue, Kate suddenly doubles over. “Ooooof…”

Sebastian’s eyes widen, concerned, and he reaches out a hand. “Whoa - sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Ooooh,” she moans, her eyes shut tight. She attempts to sit up. “Just… cramping.”

His eyes flicker with understanding. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” He places his hand delicately on her abdomen and gently rubs in a circle. “Before Anne was cursed, she would complain a lot about her monthly cycle, so I know how uncomfortable it can be.”

Kate nods, trying to put on a smile even with her voice strained. “It’s alright. I manage.”

“Let me help you tonight,” he offers sincerely. “You deserve to be taken care of after all you’ve done for me. Come on, now…”

Sebastian walks her to the bedroom, where he helps her to undress and put on a soft nightgown. He lays her on the bed and minutes later returns with a book, warm green tea, and a particularly warm pillow, which he places over her abdomen. She accepts it all gratefully, amazed at the lengths to which he is willing to go. He disappears again, and soon, she can hear the bathtub running. When he comes back once more, he returns with peppermint oil, which he massages into her feet. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, sighing in relief. “That feels so good.”

Later, he scoops her into his arms, carrying her towards the bathroom. She smiles as she takes in the sight - a steamy bubble bath - and then her smile grows even bigger when she detects the calming scent of lavender and chamomile. 

“Just for you,” he murmurs. “It might help you fall asleep.”

Sebastian gives Kate some privacy, and when she is finished in the bathroom, she feels like she could melt into a puddle of relaxation. Back in the bedroom, he sets a warming charm on her side of the bed, lights a candle, and offers her a piece of sweet chocolate. She settles under the blankets and he follows, coming close to her. 

A kiss is pressed to her forehead. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you, Seb,” she murmurs sleepily.

He softly rubs her abdomen. Her eyes close, and soon, her rhythmic breathing becomes a soft snore. He chuckles to himself, blows out the candle, and spoons her. Taking care of her has allowed Sebastian to completely ignore the dread of what he might experience with the Kelpies over the next two days, and he falls into a deep sleep.

The hormones from Kate’s monthly cycle certainly don’t make Wednesday morning any easier.

Tears stream down her face. “Please don’t go. Convince the Ministry to take you out of the field. Please.”

He closes his eyes, pained by her plea. “I can’t do that, Kate. You know I can’t.” He pulls her close, wrapping his arms around her. “I love you. You know I would do anything to come home to you safely. And you know that if there’s something I’m good at, it’s surviving.” He pauses, tilting her chin up. “I will think of you every moment, think of what you might do in any situation I find myself in. You’re my motivation. My inspiration. My reason for living.”

“I love you, Seb,” she replies softly, wiping away a fresh fallen tear, “but I’m afraid. What if you don’t come back?”

He’s quiet for a moment, trying to determine the best way to soothe her. “Then… I probably am delayed… or fighting my way back to you. And even if things are going well, I still may not come home around dinner time. It’s unpredictable in the field. I hope I will return home before you go to bed tomorrow night. But don’t wait up all night for me just in case I get stuck. That happens sometimes. I don’t want you to worry. I’ll be alright.”

“But what if you aren’t?” she whispers, afraid to say it louder - to make it more real.

He gazes into her eyes. “Listen to me. I am going to be fine. But if something ever happens to me, I want you to know that I love you more than I love my own life. In just over a month, you gave me hope and purpose… and I’m happier than I’ve ever been. If I don’t come back, it’s not because I didn’t try. It means that there was no way to. And if I… if I die, it was in an attempt to make the world a better place - to make the world safer for you. I think I would feel… redeemed for all I’ve done if I passed in service to the good people of the wizarding community.” He takes her hand, kissing it. “But that isn’t going to happen. I need you to be strong, sweetheart. I need you to be strong for me.”

She swallows, trying like hell to toughen up. Falling apart will only make this worse. “Be safe, Sebastian. Come back to me.”

“I will. I promise I will,” he assures her. 

“I trust you. I love you. Please take care of yourself”

Sebastian kisses Kate tenderly, lingering, memorizing the feel of her lips against his. “I love you, sunshine.”

And within moments, he is gone.

[starbuck09256]

Popcorn and horror

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023

Season 2 Mulder has missed Scully.

Mulder POV

I knocked on her door, bouncing slightly on my heels. I have popcorn and one of those horror films she loves. She’s here, back from a place she still has no memory of. While I beg in my mind to find out more about what happened to her, her distant looks and the way she touches her much longer hair have caused me to take a step back from my normal interrogation style of curiosity. In truth, while I am desperate to know where she has been, I have missed her immensely in these last few months. I still wake to her voice on my voicemail, screaming for my help while I imagine the horrific truths of abduction stories I have heard. Even though it is Saturday night and she could of course be out, living the life that was taken from her for days on end, I’m hoping almost praying that she is home. That she is wrapped in those big fluffy robes she likes. I wait with my next breath stuck in my throat in anticipation. 

Her soft footfalls are barely discernable from the TV in the background. She opens the door and I am greeted by my brilliant partner, shorter than normal without her heels, in the big fluffy robe just like I imagined. I can’t help the large grin as it spreads across my face in sheer delight. I peek through her door, and she gives me a warm smile and a soft “hi”. “I didn’t know you were coming by? Is there a case?” her voice is curious. I don’t usually just show up at her door. No, I've been romancing her mind for over a year because nothing gets Dana Scully more interested than clues, muddled with theories and the small sliver of details I always withhold from her. She thinks I do it because then she could easily dismiss me at the beginning, but it’s not why I leave out certain things. I know she, like me, loves the challenge, she loves the mystery, and that is why I’m here on a Saturday night with a microwaveable bag of popcorn and a horror movie. I want to know more about the mystery that is Dana Scully. In fact, I want to know everything about her now that she is here to stay. 

She welcomes me into the apartment, its always tidy and smells of lemon pine sol. I look over to the TV and sure enough my lovely companion this evening is watching “Superstars of the Superbowl.” I can’t help my wicked grin. “I knew you would like it.” Even my voice is smug. She turns and clicks off the tv with the remote. “You know I’m only watching because of the defensive pick 6 with the 96 yard return.” I grin. Scully loves football. When we have a stakeout on Thursdays or Mondays sports radio is on, and to see her animated while the plays are read in the seat next to me is more than a turn on than I’m willing to admit. Scully even bets on the games. Several of the other agents in the bureau have learned of her prediction skills and are somewhat fearful of her growing accuracy. 

I hold up the horror movie, I know she had mentioned wanting to see it before she was taken. She gives me a smile that I’m somewhat convinced could light up all of space as she takes the case in her hand. “Put the popcorn in and grab the 2 beers out of the fridge,” she says already popping out the Superbowl highlights and sliding in our horror movie night. I dutifully pop the popcorn putting it in a large bowl for us to share and grabbing the beers. I kill the lights and sit next to her. She clinks my beer bottle with hers and settles in a little closer to me. My arm stretches out around her shoulders as I snuggle in for the night of terror. 

In the morning, when my eyes barely register the light shining through her sheer curtains, I feel her breath against my neck, her leg tucked in between mine as he body covers most of me. My hands have slipped under her shirt as I hug her slightly closer than I would have dared before. I’ll have nightmares for the next week from the film. But at least last night the women of my dreams kept the distant forces at bay. 

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Dream - Chapter Two.

Alright, my lovelies, since this chapter is very short, and in an effort to get the ball rolling on this story a little more, I thought I would treat you to the seldom seen double update today! Yes, you get chapter two AND chapter three! Also, I’m going to do a combined note count for the unlock, so when both chapters add up to 40 notes, chapter four comes on Monday. I hope this makes you happy! Thanks so much to those of you who are engaging in it, too :) 

Previous chapters - Prologue  One

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed (note: those not engaging will be automatically removed from the tag list, FYI)

Words - 2,108

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

For seven consecutive days, Angel had experienced a dream featuring the mystery girl, and in each and every one he tried his hardest to harness some kind of power to be able to control it, to speak words of his own decision, anything that didn't feel like it had been pre-programmed by his imagination.  

It was confusing to him, for she felt like no mere figment, something about her seemed too real for her to have been fabricated by his own mind. He couldn't explain it, but it almost felt like he was leaving his own body each night and ending up in a different scenario with her on some other plane of existence, insane as that was.

On Monday, he dreamed he was strolling along a beach and saw her walking across the ocean itself, reaching him and as usual falling into a passionate kiss. He’d stared down at her, trying to ask why she kept invading his dreams, who she was, searching for answers. No words came, though, feeling the tug of waking beginning to yank at him. As he'd felt himself being pulled from the dream, he'd held her arms tight as if he was trying to pull her out of it with him, but she'd slipped from his grasp, and he'd awoken with a start, his heart thundering in his chest.

On Tuesday, he dreamed of being back at the house with the party going on inside it again, waiting outside for her to exit the glass door and approach, just as she had before. Once again, he tried to control the dream to his advantage but failed, with them kissing again and him waking up, becoming very frustrated and a little freaked out by it all. Why did he keep dreaming of someone he didn't know? Why was his mind making her up and parading her in front of him in different scenarios each night? Why did she feel so familiar to him? And why – apart from the fact she was very pretty – did he feel so drawn to her?

By the early hours of Thursday morning, he was fed up. Fed up with continually waking through the night, annoyed at not being able to decipher why she kept appearing, and frustrated that he had no clue over who the hell she was either. He never thought something as simple as a dream would ever throw him through loops so badly, but they really were beginning to bother him.

“You have Uncle Fester sized bags under your eyes. Good night, was it, with whoever you took home?” EZ asked him as they took a break from hauling metal around the yard.  

Angel muttered, picking up an old bumper and throwing it cleanly into the tangle of old automobile parts to his right. “Yeah, I wish it was from getting laid.” He chewed the inside of his cheek, noticing his brother looking expectant. “I keep having these reoccurring dreams, well, kinda like that. Dreams of this girl, and...”

“Waking up with damp boxers?” EZ’s interjection earned him a glare.

“You’ll shut your goddamned mouth.”

He laughed hard, wiping sweat from his brow on the back of his arm. “So, who’s the girl? Someone you wanna bang but ain’t letting you near?”

“That’s the thing,” Angel began as they began to walk back over to the clubhouse, in search of coffee and a quick break. “I don’t have a damned clue who she is. I ain’t ever seen the chick before, but night after night, boom. There she is. And it isn't like a normal dream in the sense where everything's a bit fuzzy and shit, it's crystal clear, except I have no conscious control over it. It's bugging me. I even lay there last night reading about reoccurring dreams, trying to make sense of why my brain is fucking with me.”

“You been taking mushrooms?”

“Hell no, I hate that shit.”

“Smoking Coco’s crazy weed?”

Angel snorted. “Not after last time. I swear, it’s soaked in something nasty.”

Reaching the doors, they walked through, EZ walking to where a coffee pot sat bubbling behind the bar, pouring out two cups. “Well, I have no idea why this is happening if you’re not actually causing it by tripping your balls off, but maybe I can help you with being able to control it, when you’re actually dreaming.” Handing over the mug, he walked back around the bar, sipping the strong brew as he took a seat beside his brother. “Have you ever heard of, or did your internet search bring up anything about lucid dreaming?”

Angel half shrugged. “Nah, I don’t think so. What is it?”

“It's a technique that if you manage to master it, it lets you have some kind of power over your actions when you're dreaming. But I gotta say, it's pretty bizarre, having a dream about the same person over and over without actually knowing who they are. Is the dream itself the same?”

“Sometimes it has been, but mostly, I see her in different settings. It’s fucking bugging the shit out of me,” he frowned, EZ nodding.

“That’s twice you’ve said that.”

“Yeah, well I don’t dream of shit like this!” Angel’s eyes were wide, his tone exasperated. “Fuckin’ weird shit I have no idea over, or bikini models usually. It’s pretty standard with me.”

EZ was entertained. “A simple man of simple dreams.”  

Angel began muttering into his coffee, his brow furrowing. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“So, what you're saying is that you wanna find out why you keep dreaming about her? And in finding out how to control your dreams you think you might achieve this? Or is it just because you wanna control the power of a boner and bang the shit out of her unconsciously?” EZ asked, making Angel scowl slightly.

“All I wanna do is find out why the same little brunette chick keeps visiting me in my sleep. End of. If I want sex, I can go out there and easily get the real fucking thing. bro.” He made a good point. If his brother was anything at all, it was most definitely popular with women.

“Well, I guess you have some reading to do. Either that or I need to book you in to visit a shrink.” Just then, the door opened to reveal a welcome distraction.  

“Will you take your husband the fuck away from me?” Angel cried, pointing at his brother as Sharise approached, shaking her head full of soft, beaded braids.

“Are you being a beast?” she cooed, arriving to kiss him, opening her arms to hug Angel as well.

EZ raised an eyebrow, stroking her arm. “When am I not?” He looked thoroughly pleased with himself before continuing. “Anyway, what do you want?”

“Oh, oh that’s nice!” Sharise snorted. “No hello honey, nice to see you, just what do you want? Hmph.” Her face was full of tease as she tilted her head back, slowly raising her middle finger at him. “I accidentally locked myself out, so I need your keys, baby.”

He reached into his kutte, taking them out. “Fucking useless.”

“I’ll remember that later, when you want your dick sucked.” While they fell into their usual banter, Angel pulled out his phone and began searching websites about the lucid dreaming thing EZ had mentioned, beginning to read about the technique.  

The page detailed that it varied from person to person, how it worked, but began by stating awareness had to be harnessed, something called reality testing, to make the unconscious mind consciously process whether it was awake or asleep. He then read methods to do that, like checking a clock, which in a dream state would change considerably, but in reality, would barely move at all. He snorted softly, thinking to himself that he knew when he was dreaming, because the girl was there when he did. It wasn’t a problem deciphering between awake and asleep, it was the lack of control he experienced while in the dream that he needed to get to grips with.

“Lucid dreaming, huh?” Sharise’s voice roused him from his state of concentration, peering around to see what he was reading so avidly. “We watched a movie about that a while back. Oh, fuck. What was it called? It had that British guy in it, the one in The Hobbit films, oh...” She clicked her fingers, circling her hand rapidly as she attempted to recall his name. “Martin Freeman, and it was called...”  

“You seriously need to cut down your weed consumption,” EZ couldn’t help but tease. “It was called The Good Night.”

“Yes!” she cried, frowning slightly. “Don’t you weed shame me, either. It’s my culture, and I’m an insomniac.”

EZ snorted. “Sharise, your dad is Rastafarian. You’re an atheist.”  

“And you’re sleeping on the couch tonight!” She turned, tossing her braids over her shoulder as she walked towards the door. “Still love you, though.”

“Love you more.” Angel thought it was sweet, the way they bickered back and forth at one another constantly, always bantering, but the love they had for each other was huge. She was the best thing that had ever happened to EZ. Going back to his phone, he continued to read while EZ took a call, heading outside of the clubhouse.  

The page before him advised that once the dreamer knew they were in fact within a dream state, everything done to try and exert control should be gentle, picturing, or even speaking what they wanted to change, but not to be too forceful with those demands, or they would risk waking themselves up. The author of the piece said that simply focusing on that, and saying, for example, ‘I want to be able to fly’ usually did the trick, but it took a lot of practice, to be able to control the self.  

One page in and already, Angel felt a headache coming on. That night, though, when he finally reached his bed at 2am, he put what he’d read into practice.

The coldness of the open mountain range was so realistic to him, Angel had to wonder if he really was dreaming for a few seconds, and after remembering something he had read about deterring dreams from reality on the page he’d studied, he pinched his nose and closed his mouth, finding he was still able to breathe. It was an old test, apparently, to deter whether you were really asleep or awake.  

Once he had deterred it was a dream, he began to walk forwards, hoping the black clad figure in the distance was the girl again, willing himself to practice saying something to her, yet it was just barely understandable jargon that came from his mouth when he did.

“Focus... focus,” he thought to himself. “I want to control what I say to her.” He tried again, but still, nothing resembling words came out, his vision going a little foggy. “Keep calm, or you’ll wake yourself up.” That part worked, Angel continuing to walk through the snow, trying out another technique he’d read. “There’s a bottle cap in my hand. It’s blue.”  

Opening his hand, he looked down to see the small, blue bottle cap, the serrated edge rough against his palm as he closed it again, putting it into the pocket of the long, black wool coat he had on.  

“Speak to her, speak to her. Ask her what her name is, ask her who she is.” he thought over and over, trying not to overdo it and wake himself up. As they reached each other, he noticed she was shivering uncontrollably, taking his coat and wrapping it around her, her trembles subsiding as she was warmed against his body heat.  

“I’m glad you’re here, I was starting to freeze.” she spoke, reaching for him, pulling him down to her level. Once again, they fell into a kiss that he had no control over, one he let happen for a few seconds before pulling away, repeating the little mantra in his head until he felt in control, opening his mouth to speak.

“Who are you?” Finally! He had a success in asking her something of his own volition. He felt such triumph at being able to ask her something coherently, though, that it excited him to the point of distraction. Instantly, he woke up.

“Damnit!” he fumed, turning over and muttering as he closed his eyes and hoped that he'd be able to get back to sleep and pick up where the dream left off. No such luck. If Angel Reyes was anything, though, it was persistent.  

[nerdieforpedro]

WIP Wednesday/Thursday

I was tagged by @pedroshotwifey and @theywhowriteandknowthings ❤️ ❤️

It was hard to decide which two WIPs I was going to do snippets of because I have so many. 👀 If I mention starting any more series and not just one shots, smack me. I should not have 11, I kid you not, 11 ongoing series. I went through my masterlist thinking it was like 5-6. 🤨 I was very wrong. Like Geez.... I gotta finish something. 🫣

Anyway, snippet one - from chapter 2 of Roc & Doc not finished yet:

Your face hardens at your friend’s joke and you start nervously pressing your hands together. At least it wasn’t the trenchcoat one she likes to make, thank goodness. Tim looked back at the door and stood up, shaking his head. “Hey Kim. Just knew Doc would want to hear how the case turned out. I’m going to head out Doc. I’m going to go make sure Stevenson isn’t still working on the homicide from last week. He makes fun of my chicken scratch, but he types slow as hell for someone fifteen years younger than me. Good night Doc, don’t steal anymore pens. I know she’ll be your accomplice.” Rockford nods, gives you a smile and once at the doorway, cuts his eyes at Kira before leaving.  

Kim plops down across from you and snickers. “Did the famed detective get a bit pissed at me because I came between him and his dear Doc? For shame and I guess I did know you were taking his pens. To be fair, I did tell you to stop several times.” She playfully tapped her own hand as if she was being reprimanded. You sat back in your chair and shook your head. She’s been teasing you about this for as long as you had stolen that man’s pens well after. Tim didn’t tease you as much anymore, well sometimes when you got in the car and he asked to see your hands to make sure you didn’t remove anything from his glove box or console.

Snippet two is from a series I plan to start in March. It's for a Pedro character I only recently started writing for. 🥸 (Is included in the 11 series - that number still freaks me out. like that many unfinished ideas. 😭)

A moonbeam. It’s the first thing he thought of when he saw her. She was wearing a white nightgown - if he had to guess cotton with a thin robe about her shoulders that she decided to slip off. That’s a good choice, it’s a bit warm out tonight. Her hair is under a purple bonnet which she removes as well and sets it on top of the robe, both are on the back of her rocking chair. Black voluminous hair fell around her shoulders, it looked pillowy to the touch like the rest of its owner.  Her substantial legs carried her to a small table beside her where she lit a candle. The minimal light makes her face glow. He can make out full lips, round cheeks and bright eyes behind her glasses. She eases down into her rocking chair and pours herself a brown liquid that looks similar to his and orange juice maybe? Well she could be one for mixed drinks. He wonders why she would be up at this ungodly hour drinking? She couldn’t have similar demons to him could she? Maybe some unknown fears or known fears? Could she be separating herself from someone inside the home? 

I wonder which character it is? ☺️

Honorable mentions: Dave/Santi, Pero/Jack, Weddings 101 with Dieter, Jake Lockley fic, Santiago angst/fluff, Disco Dieter.

These aren't any less important, my motivation waxes and wanes, very often. 🤔

NPT: @maggiemayhemnj @megamindsecretlair @perotovar @daddy-dins-girl @trulybetty @joels-shitty-puns @magpiepills @gemmahale @tinytinymenace @movievillainess721 @alltheglitterandtheroar @grogusmum @soft-girl-musings @ilovepedro @beefrobeefcal @agentjackdaniels @javierpena-inatacvest @rhoorl @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @reallyrallyauthor @saturn-rings-writes

Sorry if you've done it already. ☺️

(Nerdie trying to think of how she's actually going to finish all the series she started - an entire mess of her own making) 😂

[the-broken-pen]

Hey!! How is your Thursday treating you? Very well I hope. I saw your writing advise and I was wondering if you could give me some pointers. I know your probably busy so answer this on your time. My story’s setting is a very high end posh all girls boarding school. My main character’s family has major and integral ties to the school unknown to her since she was basically raised by her mothers parents (her father is the son of the headmaster) and the school is funded by the “government”. All the parents say that there child had loved the school and curriculum, only every girl that walked out of the school changed. Their behavior, their thoughts, their morals…all changed. They became more isolated and more withdrawn. I say this because the school actually trains the young girls to be assassins. They believe cultivating young minds is crucial. The facade of the school is well done so much so that admission is a long and tedious process. They start recruiting slow. They have a group of young girls who have been through the process scout out for young girls they think would make a good fit. It’s the setting and overall feeling I’m having trouble writing. The school at first should seem like a dream. The school is set in this wonderful eighteen century like building with beautiful grounds and various rooms and various chambers. The new students board in a different wing than the young girls who are in training. It’s all very hush hush. I want it to be scary, riveting, keep you on your toes. What are some techniques you use to write unsettling atmospheres?? I want it to be unsettling. Like you know somethings wrong but you can’t put your finger on it. It’s dark and mysterious and fearful. The teachers are in on it as well. So i it gives “lamb to the slaughter vibes”. The girls who are part of the training and are the leaders are mean and cruel, they like to scare the recruits, make life hell for them. They’ve gone through a lot of trauma and are emotionally broken. Do you have any advice for writing the girls? I want them to come of menacing, but also have a odd sense of sympathy and pity for the girls. Because they know first hand how it will be. This project is proving harder to write 😂😂 I was about to give up on the whole thing but I figured I would ask my favorite author for help first. ❤️

Thank you for the ask, you’re very sweet!

For writing unsettling atmospheres, I normally rely a lot on subtlety, especially when the main character is in the dark.

For example, one of the short stories I wrote ended with the main character getting her identity stolen by a fae. I hinted at it all throughout, but I put it into the characters own thoughts—how the other girl’s laugh sounded like hers, how the other girls hair was the same color as hers but it was better somehow. Going through it, it gives childish envy, but on a second read, it becomes more clear that the fae was slowly transforming to look more and more like the MC.

Along with that, don’t draw attention to unnecessary things to make it seem more unsettling, because that doesn’t feel natural. State something that’s slightly off or unsettling, and leave it. People will think about the implications naturally. Why is that door locked? Why don’t we go on the second floor? Where did the girl from the first week of classes go too, since we can’t go home?

When thinking about the setting you described, with an older house you can make a lot of assumptions about what’s happening. People’s first reaction is never “bloodstain” it’s normally mud, or tea, or paint. So have your character notice some strange staining on the wall outside one of her rooms, and bring it up to a teacher/supervisor, completely innocently, like mentioning they think there’s a water leak. Have the supervisor draw the silence out, make it feel uncomfortable, like she thinks she did something wrong, and then have them dismiss it with a “I’ll have to fix that.”

Leaky roof? Sure. Is it under the training rooms and one of the baseboards leaked blood down the inner wall? We’ll find out, won’t we?

Silence freaks people out, but so does the abrupt change from sound to silence. Make information change on a whim. The character thought this is what the supervisor said, but everyone says she’s wrong—when the information did change, just in order to keep the peace. I think a lot of the unsettling atmosphere will come from subtle environment factors—blood stains and locked doors and a wall around the school to keep the horses in, but the protagonist hasn’t actually seen any horses yet….

Now, for the girls. They can be BIG contributors to the unsettling factor. But you have to decide how you want them involved. Are they mean to the new girls because they’re jealous of their innocence? Are they mean because they’re trying to provoke them into leaving the school before it’s too late? To have them have that kind of “menacing” aura, then any subsequent sympathy or pity will also be a bit gruffer. It sounds like they’re mean partly because that’s one of their only pieces of freedom they have, but also because they’re jealous. I hope I’m making sense, but if I’m not, here’s kind of a snippet my brain spat at me regarding your questions.

She had watched as they demonstrated knife throwing aptly, because scared as she was, she wanted to do it right.

She had listened to all of their advice, sharp tongued as it was, and studied the way the older girls fingers danced along the blades.

She had always been good at learning this kind of stuff by sight, so she had double checked her hand position, and threw.

And promptly sliced the palm of her hand clean open.

She didn’t even have the thought to gasp at the pain as she watched the blood begin to well. Her cheeks went red as one of the older girls snapped her gaze over, fixating on her bleeding palm.

She wasn’t supposed to screw up, she was supposed to be proving herself—

The older girls hands closed around her wrist with a startlingly efficiency, stretching her fingers out to view the wound. When she winced, the girl shushed her, half harsh and half distracted as she eyed the wound.

She just barely kept up as the older girl dragged her into the bathroom, rummaging in a cupboard for a box of bandages.

“Be quiet,” the older girl snapped as she opened her mouth, eyes dark. “I’m fixing your hand right now because you messed up. This is the only time you get to do this.”

She could only watch as the older girl wrapped a bandage through her fingers and around her wrist, leaving her capable of movement and still covered fully. She wondered how many times you had to get an injury like that to learn how to bandage it so well.

“Listen to me,” the older girl hissed. “I helped you this once, and it won’t happen again. You don’t get to make mistakes; we don’t get to make mistakes. So either you don’t make them, or you learn to hide them, do you understand me?”

She nodded, just once.

“This school has a 100% graduation rate.” The older girl’s eyes bore into hers. “And they will never let that change, so don’t try.”

The older girl left her in the bathroom, clutching her aching and bandaged hand, wondering just how many of the stains on the sink were blood.

I hope this helps!

[jodilin65]

THURSDAY, MARCH 31, 1994 Tom’s finishing up dinner. He made us pork chops and tater tots.

Had a great talk with Dad today.

That’s about all that’s happening.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 30, 1994 Oh, this is just lovely. Next door, there’s a car in their driveway as well as a van on their front lawn. There’s a ball game going on now that includes other kids who don’t live there. They’re all dressed up, so hopefully they’re going somewhere. Maybe Lenore had her 5th kid or it’s cuz Easter’s coming, but I’m sure it’ll be a zoo till it gets really hot.

Why me? There are tons of elderly couples on this street, so why couldn’t they live next to me what with these houses so close? Why did God have to put Mormons next to me? What’s he trying to tell me? It’ll be years before we move, so how many kids will be there then? 10?

Well, for now I have the radio really loud, cuz if they aren’t going, it’ll be crazy there all day. Also, if they’re going to have company for a while, they’ll keep their dog outside 24/7.

I’m going to go out back and see if I hear anything out there.

Later…

I think I’ve finally figured out why I haven’t gotten any letters from Bob. He probably never had it written down and with him and can’t remember it. I called Kim today who said he made remarks about possibly sending it to the wrong place. While she was on the line, I called and got the PO Box number. Tomorrow I’ll mail out a letter to him. I enclosed an address label which I stuck on the letter as well as the envelope and also my phone number. Hope to hell he gets it and I get a reply.

Kim says there’s still some snow and they’re due for more. Ha, ha!!! Tammy says it’s 40° there and they’re firing up the woodstove. Ha, ha!!! Today it’s 85° and I’ve had the EC on all day.

Luckily, they shut up next door as quickly as they started. I have a good feeling that the hotter it gets, the less I’ll hear of them. They really are quiet 98% of the time. It’s just the old memories of the NHA that the ruckus triggers. If I began with the NHA all the way on up to this place and did a chart of the noise percentage, it’d look like this: NHA - 100% noisy, Vista Ventana - 80% noisy, Crystal Creek - 60% noisy, here - 15% noisy. If it weren’t for this fan, though, I’d be woken up 7 out of 10 times. This fan’s great, although it’d be hopeless in the NHA. Even hopeless in the Vista Ventana cuz the whole building shakes. The kids shook the building in the NHA and in the Vista Ventana, the butch rocked the place. Andy’s thunderous footsteps too.

Kim says she’ll be sending a letter soon. Cool, Book of Letters #7 needs it. Of course, I love getting letters, anyway.

Tom will be home very soon and soon, I’ll be hitting the sack.

Gotta go set the VCR.

Later…

OK, I set it for Unsolved Mysteries, Law & Order, and Now. It looks like for once Law & Order could be a new one. Unsolved is a repeat as usual, but they sometimes have updates on old cases. Now will always be new.

I left Tom a note asking him to please tape a movie for me on my old shitty VCR in his bedroom. The nice thing about it is, though, that if you record something on it, it’ll play fine on the living room VCR. If you play it back on the other one, it looks and sounds like it’s under water.

God, it’s warm in here. I’ve had the EC blaring up high all day and it reads 82° in the living room. It’s cooler in my room, though. That’s where there’s a lower, longer awning outside one of my windows where the sun faces west.

Damn. I forgot to call the Civic Plaza for more information about seeing the Judds, or whichever one’s going to be there. Tomorrow I will, as this won’t be happening till April 9th and 10th. It’s not a Phil Donoghue talk show, I guess, but a women’s expo.

TUESDAY, MARCH 29, 1994 Not much happened yesterday. I fell asleep at 5 PM, therefore, I couldn’t see the look on Tom’s face when he walked into his room. I straightened it all up.

I forgot to mention that I tried to call Jessie in W. Springfield. Both numbers I tried were wrong. I called information and there’s no Jessie or JS in the whole Springfield area. She either moved or has a phone in someone else’s name now.

I tried to call Cassandra, my old therapist in Deerfield. I got her machine and I left a message as well as my number.

Tom and I went out for almost two hours. I got my meds and 3 journals for $20.75. Now I have a total of 65!

Tom and I are out back now. Boy, is it hot!

No mail from Bob. Maybe he doesn’t have my address written down with him in jail and he can’t remember it correctly.

Andy told me that Michael Jackson joke yesterday and it was pretty funny. What do Michael Jackson and J.C. Penny have in common?

They both have little boy’s pants half off.

Another one goes: What do you call a lesbian dinosaur?

A Lickolotopus.

MONDAY, MARCH 28, 1994 Yesterday was lots of fun and I broke another “bed record.” For the first time yesterday, Tom and I were able to have full-scale penetration. It felt really nice, even though I could never cum by that alone with no stimulation. It really makes me feel more of a woman and less different, although, we’d both be fine if I never could’ve done it. Oral sex is my favorite and it always will be.

He’ll be getting up any time now and Andy’s off today. We may get together.

That’s all that’s been going on. Tom and I also have great talks and enjoy spending time together. It’s so amazing how this just keeps on getting better and better.

I have to call for my meds refill and that’s about the only thing I absolutely need to do today.

I basically give up, as far as getting any mail from Bob. I guess he’s a closed chapter in my life. For now, it feels that way.

Later…

Tom’s up now and he’s making us Hamburger Helper now. He’s quickly going to run to the store to pick me up cigarettes.

Doesn’t feel like it’s going to be cool out today. Earlier when I went to put the garbage out back it wasn’t too bad. Maybe I can get some color today. Then again, I’ll probably wait till I can swim. It’s too boring sunning and just sitting out there without being able to swim.

I have to go check the Hamburger Helper now, so I’ll write more later.

Later…

The Hamburger Helper was so good. Tom’s in the shower now and I’ll probably do some typing.

SUNDAY, MARCH 27, 1994 For the first time in my life, I’m letting someone read a whole entire journal. Yup, I’m letting Tom read the story in #61 (lesbian romance). He’ll die laughing, I’m sure.

Andy tried telling me I oughta publish some of my writing. Maybe do a short story for Echo magazine which is a gay magazine. Nope. Don’t think so. See, when I sit back and read whatever I wrote, I like it and understand it. However, I’m afraid others will just laugh. They haven’t yet, but I guess I’m just paranoid.

I went to bed at 3:30 PM and while I slept, Tom read it. Well, I guess he did. He said he was going to, but I can’t ask him now cuz he’s asleep.

If they’ve played their music across the street, I never heard anything. It’s been quiet since they played outdoors in the garage behind their house last Sun. That was probably a birthday party.

Evie and David sent an Easter card to “Jody” and Tom. How sweet, although no one ever spells my name right. Either way it’s spelled, I hate the fucking name, so who cares?

Andy left a message to call him cuz he has a great Michael Jackson joke. When I did try to call it was too late.

Got a postcard from my dad today which I copied into #57. Still nothing from Bob or Kim.

The weather was pretty shitty yesterday with rain. It was damp and yucky, but it cleared off. By Monday it’ll be back to the 80s.

SATURDAY, MARCH 26, 1994 So, what’s been going on here in Arizona? Oh, not much. In April I may meet Naomi Judd. She’s to be at the Civic Plaza with Phil Donoghue and some other actress whose name I can’t remember. It’ll probably be a long line, but I guess you get to talk to her briefly and get a picture taken with her and an autograph. I may check it out if she’s not here while I’m in Disneyland.

Still no mail from Bob or anyone else.

I spoke to Tammy who tried calling last night. It figures I’d miss her call. They’re expecting 2” of snow. Ha, Ha!

THURSDAY, MARCH 24, 1994 I just left a message on Andy’s machine. He called me last night at 1 AM, but I had the ringer off figuring no one was going to call so late. When the hell are they going to stop fucking up his schedule and put him on 2nd shift?

Anyway, I’m going to go now to watch more of the shows I taped, so bye for now.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 23, 1994 I’m still up and Tom’s in the shower now getting ready for work.

I just finished helping him with the bills. He writes out the checks, then copies the check number and the check amount onto a piece of paper. I put the bill and check in their envelopes, then stamp it, and stick his address label on it.

What else is going on right now? Oh, not much. Just bumming around till I fall asleep. I’m going to soon have coffee and have a cigarette. Just what I need, huh? When it comes to trying to quit smoking, I never fail to fail. I quit trying to quit. Whatever will be will be and I’ll be a smoker forever, regardless of wanting to or not.

Later…

Got up at 5:00 today. When Tom came home I surprised him with a spaghetti dinner. He loved it. I even surprised myself. For someone who can’t cook, it sure came out yummy. See, I am sort of old-fashioned and there is a little tradition in me, as modern as I am.

I still haven’t gotten any letters from Bob. If I don’t in a month, then I give up. To hell with ever hoping my parents will ever write me, either. It seems they only write once a year.

I taped my shows, but Unsolved Mysteries wasn’t on due to some special, and Law & Order was a repeat.

TUESDAY, MARCH 22, 1994 I typed a letter to my parents, and still no letter from Bob. Kim got hers, so is there that one in a million chance that someone’s working there that doesn’t like me and has intercepted his mail to me? I doubt it. I mean, Bob would write to me, and he even told Kim he sent a second letter to me right after they had their visit. Maybe he wrote it right after their last bi-weekly mail run. Tom says that’s how it is in the military. Someone will get mail only every other week, but when they do, they get 4 or 5 letters. I hope this is the case.

I typed Kim a letter and played some card games. What do I want to do now? I have no idea. I would like to write more, but I’ve run out of things to write about. Guess I’ll have to think of another writing project for times like this, huh?

Later…

Had enough TV for a while, so I think I’ll go listen to music. After, I’ll try conking out. Before I do, though, let me just say that I’m so proud of myself. I made the best chicken wings ever. This time I not only put margarine on it but also garlic salt. It made the meat part cook better and more tender. Also, the skin was nice and crispy.

Well, till later or tomorrow!

Later…

I think it’ll be a while before I conk out.

Been meaning to mention the weirdest, yet pretty cool thing. I swear I hear birds chirping during the middle of the night. It’s the strangest thing. I’ll have to ask Tom about it, as I wonder what kinds of birds could be doing this and why. They certainly don’t do this in Massachusetts or Connecticut, unless there’s sunlight.

I just upped and threw on the EC to bring fresh air in. I love how it brings in the smell of the orange blossoms. They don’t really smell of orange, though, otherwise I’d hate it, cuz I hate both the smell and the taste of orange. Now it’s great in here after only a few seconds. It freshens the air quicker and better than opening up the place on a very windy day. It also filters out pollen. I’ve been tight lately and this really helps cuz if I didn’t know better, I’d swear I was outside in the fresh air right now.

I just heard Tom cough. I wonder if he’s up. He’ll probably stay in bed till 6:00 or 7:00 anyway.

It’s getting chilly in here so I’ll shut off the EC soon. My breathing’s much better now.

So, am I going to get a letter from Bob today, or what? I sure hope so.

I hope Fran decides to try calling me back when I’m awake and not busy. Maybe I’ll hear about Bob’s picture. He’s getting a very nice picture of a Mexican girl. When Andy was here, he brought the picture to send to him. Someone left it behind at Denny’s. Just to keep track, here are my “notes” on her. I wouldn’t want to get her confused with Sabrina. Andy named her Connie Wells. She’s 28, lives alone across the street from me, is a secretary at a lawyer’s office, has no kids, is from Texas, has 3 sisters and 2 brothers, and moved here when she was 18. If I mentioned anything else in my letter about her to Fran, then I forgot. I just said that I told Connie all about him and she liked what she heard. With my luck, he’ll say he wants to write to her and really mean it this time. As stupid as he is, he’ll never buy it if I give a million reasons why she needs to get her mail here. I could try saying, if it comes up, that she just got involved with someone very very jealous of her even having a long-distance pen pal, but I doubt it’ll work. Maybe I oughta bring it up before he does in my next letter to him. This way it’ll sound less of a cover-up excuse if he asks for an address.

Damn, in 7 hours I’ve written 14 pages! I’ve been in my writing mood, so I remembered the little stuff to write about for now.

The lettuce is growing, but the carrots are taking their sweet time.

Later…

Tom and I went to Petsmart earlier. I got more pellets and the same plastic ball I had when I had the two mice. So far, he doesn’t like it like the mice did. He just sits there. I guess it’s a little too small for him.

I also got two journals.

When Tom went to the grocery store while I was asleep, he got some sticks of different colored clay. I’ll have to come up with some clever idea for them.

I also got a birthday card for Dad.

Fran left a message and I called him back. He wants to move out here. What else is new? I told him about Connie and he never did mention Bob’s picture.

MONDAY, MARCH 21, 1994 I awoke at 4:00 once again. Late last night, till 7:00 this morning, I sort of felt lousy. Due to the rain, which I’m not as used to anymore since that’s a rare occasion here, I felt shitty. I was very very tight.

Last night, though, I went to print out address labels for my parents and Kim, but the printer fouled up on me. Therefore, I handwrote 12 envelopes with 12 different labels they haven’t seen yet. I do believe I mentioned this, come to think and remember it.

Fran called today before I woke up. Tom answered his call, then he left a message. I tried calling him twice but he was busy, so he’s going to have to call me. Also, if he gets me, he does. If he doesn’t, he doesn’t.

At about 5:00 this afternoon Tom and I went to JB’s for dinner. It was good.

Just as we were leaving, they were playing, or so I thought, across the street. Very loud. It was still going on at 7:30 when we got in, so I called. His mother answered and the weird thing was that where she was was quiet. I guess the house behind her was playing in their garage, as there was a party. That was cool, and she sounded nice. When I hung up I put my music on and turned it off at 8:45 and it was quiet. That was easy enough to deal with.

So afterward, I watched TV, typed letters, played my computer card game, and ate more. I tried to do some scanning, but I couldn’t get it to work to save my life.

I hope I get Bob’s letter today. Kim called yesterday and she had just gotten a letter from him. We both never got that first one he wrote us both a few weeks ago. Guess we never will get it. Kim said he wrote and sent me a letter the same day he sent hers.

Later…

Between April 17th and 22nd, we’ll be going to Disneyland for 1-2 nights. However, somewhere in July or August, we’ve decided that Vegas would be a great place to be married.

It’s weird, yet fine with me, that I don’t look as white as these pages. Why? Who knows. I haven’t exactly been out in the sun these days.

I also forgot to mention something else for about a week now. According to the DES book, yes we possess higher chances of fertility and miscarriages, but they also made it sound like it’s very far from impossible. Still don’t know if I’ll want to try in ‘96, but we’ll see, as it’s still quite a while from now. Also, Tom and I are less convinced that my ear has anything to do with the DES and surer that I do ovulate. The book, along with the doctor, mentioned thinner, runnier discharges mid-cycle. Well, I most certainly have that.

I’ve got a few things I want to mend and hem on my new sewing machine. Let’s see, what do I want to do? A pair of panties, my white shorts, and I know there’s more. Oh yes, the pockets of my cut-off jeans.

Later…

Fell asleep at 5:30 this morning. Got up at noon, then fell back asleep an hour later till 5:00.

When Tom got home he tried to scan my journals and even he’s having trouble with it, so something’s wrong.

I may have mentioned a while back that they’re eliminating Tom’s job at AMEX, so he put in for another job at another department. If he gets it, he’ll work 8-hour shifts for 5 days a week.

Anyway, our trip to Disneyland may have to be pushed ahead or back a little, but we are going.

Tomorrow at 10:00 he has an appointment with the mortgage company about that $65,000 loan.

I’m recording the Oscar Awards now, but for the most part, it’ll be boring.

SUNDAY, MARCH 20, 1994 Earlier Tom and I were talking about possible dates to be married. I said that in a way I wish it were now 1995, then we could go for April 9th, the day we met. So, eventually, he came up with an idea. He asked me, “When was the first time we went in the middle?”

I thought at first he meant when he got in there, finally. Well, he meant orally, as sex is sex, and sex comes in all ways and forms of variety. I looked back and he “got it in there” on January 12th, but the oral part was either July 28th, 29th or 30th. I think it was the 30th.

What type of wedding we’ll have and where is still a mystery. We both agree on one thing, though. Neither of us wants a huge wedding. Andy said he’s definitely going to be there, which is great. He went on and on about how great Tom and I are together and jokingly asked to be the bridesmaid and dress up as either Stevie or Madonna.

I finally got my last order of address labels and I really like them a lot. I already filled out the order form for labels for Tammy and Bill for their anniversary, even though that’s not until May 25th. I’m ordering them cat labels. I should’ve gotten those, rather than the gold-trimmed ones for myself. Anyway, I went ahead and ordered a set of these cat labels for myself. In August for my parent’s anniversary, I’ll order them a set of who knows what style and design.

My dad’s birthday is only about 15 days away. What shall I send him? Just a card as usual? How old is he going to be? I think he’ll be 63.

Tom’s mom gave me a bag of magazines. He was at his parent’s house while I was asleep. They really were of no use to me, but it was nice of her. There were two animal posters that I put up on the bulletin board. Also, two subscription forms I used for Nervous and Scott. There was a poster of a tarantula and that’ll go to Nervous.

The neatest thing she gave Tom to give to me were pastel chalk-like things. I did a fairly decent picture of a table with a bowl of fruit and a vase of flowers. Behind the table is a chair. Behind the table and chair is a big huge window with curtains. Outside the window, I drew mountains and the sky.

Later…

I just tried to print out address labels for Kim and my parents, but I fucked up somehow. So, I addressed them by hand which I also don’t mind doing. I used all different colors. There are about 12 address labels that Kim and my parents haven’t seen yet, so I gave them each one. Their next 12 letters will have different address labels.

I watched part of a movie I taped last night. So far, so good. Now I think I’ll listen to music for a while.

SATURDAY, MARCH 19, 1994 Boy, was I tired. I slept nearly 11 hours and didn’t get up until 4 PM today.

Last night was fun. Andy came over and did his laundry at 7:30. Tom didn’t get in till 9:00 and I was worried. He worked overtime. We were all laughing and joking and telling old and funny stories.

Still no letter from Bob. This makes me feel like someone’s intercepting his mail.

Tom’s working on the back room right now, and I’m kind of bored.

THURSDAY, MARCH 17, 1994 I just called Gina who remembered my voice and name after a couple of months. I asked if she could play One for One. I don’t know who does it, but I know Linda did it in the early 70s. I love the guitar in this guy’s version.

So anyway, here’s the news about Bob. Kim called me to tell me she saw Bob. He’s been transferred yet a third time. From Franklin County to Walpole, and now to MCI Concord in the Boston area. Who knows what MCI stands for? Must be Massachusetts Corrections Institute or something.

As she saw, and to no surprise, Bob looks terrible. Who wouldn’t in jail? He does have an appeal going through, but if it works, it’ll take quite some time. Hey, what else is new? But he said that even his lawyer swore up and down that he’d get off. He can’t get calls, but he can make them as long as they’re collect. He can also write and get letters. If I write to him, they don’t read the letter, but they do open the envelope, naturally, to be sure nothing’s in the envelope that’s not supposed to be. Kim said she sent us both letters a couple of weeks ago, but it’s going to take time. They only pick up mail from there every other week. Hopefully, I’ll get his letter within a few days, but he’ll get my letters faster than I’ll get his. Kim said that he’ll still get the letter I just sent to Walpole. Also, in his letter, there’ll be more information as well as his booking number.

If there’s any news that’s good that eases our fears, it’s that his one cellmate’s his age. Also, there’s been no abuse from the guards or any other inmate. True to what Tom said, he’s bored with tons of free time.

Is Gina going to fucking play my request, or what? She’s done this before and so far she’s played 3 other requests and they didn’t seem to come before mine. Fuck her then, if she doesn’t play it. I’ll request it from another DJ if I have to.

I’m going to go watch TV now and soon hit the sack.

Later…

Well, Gina did play my request, but I sure did not expect to hear me singing first. No wonder she asked me to sing a little of it. I thought it a little strange that she wouldn’t know the song, therefore, I had to sing some of it.

Tom got home a little while ago. Now he’s eating.

They’re playing now across the street and I can very barely hear it! I’m leaving him a thank you note tomorrow.

Later…

I just finished typing up the last letter of the day. Got a few letters going out. To my parents, Kim, Fran and Andy’s nasty customer.

Tom and I talked more about getting married. We’re still not sure of a month, date, or where. We discussed the pros and cons of getting married here, as well as in Vegas.

I’m surer that I want to marry Tom more than he’s sure I’m sure. I think he’s just jumping the gun, though, worrying about too many what-ifs, even though that’s perfectly understandable. I went through all my what-ifs too. Like, what if we get divorced like almost everyone else does? But, life’s about taking chances. His basic concern is that he’s positive about two things that he swears will happen and how I’ll feel about them and deal with them. He swears I’ll fall in love with a woman and it’ll be mutual. He’s not so much afraid I’ll leave him, but will it make me wish I weren’t married to him? I said I’d tell them it’s too late and that I’m taken. He says these words may be hard to stick by, but this can happen to him as well as anyone else. If this happens I’ll deal with it as best I can. Yes, I know I swore I’d never have a relationship or move here, but no woman’s going to love me. Not one I’d love back. As gay as I always have been and always will be, this isn’t meant to be. If it were in my cards to be with a woman, then I would’ve been. The relationship was, after all, meant to be, but not with a woman. Otherwise, Tom would be a woman. Anyway, it’s human nature to be attracted to multiple people, although Tom’s 100% sure I’m going to fall in love. Tom said this happened to him with his first wife and he had to go through the “Hey, I’m already committed” stage. I guess it was the type of love where he didn’t want to leave his wife, nor did he want to sleep with this other woman. I guess it’s just Murphy’s Law.

The other thing he swears will happen is that I’ll no longer get SS checks eventually and will make the same, if not more than he does, and that’s all wonderful with him, but what he fears is me wanting to venture back out on my own with the dough.

I’d only leave him if he turned out to be a no-good jerk. However, if I made not a penny or a million bucks, what’s that got to do with us? That won’t change my love for him. I want to share any victories I have or money I make with him. Not alone. I just want us to do our best, take one day at a time and hope it is forever.

Now, what the hell was that? I just heard some knocking sound, but I can’t tell where it’s coming from. Oh well, I’m going to go and watch TV.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 16, 1994 Wow! Have I been having a fan-fucking-tastic day or what?! I may be interrupted by a call from Andy, but for now, I’ll get as far as I can. First of all, when I got up today at 11:00, I finished something I began last night. On 20 pieces of computer paper, I’ve done different abstract designs with the watercolor paints. Yup, it’s getting easier and I’m getting used to it little by little. I did do a cactus and a palm tree, but I mainly did designs like rainbows and similar stuff like that. Where did I put it when I finished? In the boarded-up window in the living room. Before the garage was built, you could look out at the window to W. Weldon. It looks so good there along with my collector’s plates.

Andy was going to come over here and do his laundry, but instead, he fell asleep with a headache, so maybe Friday. They’re remodeling the laundry room where he lives.

Tom sprayed out the room that’s part of the garage where the dryer is and gave me a spare key.

Got yet another set of address labels today and two more to go. They all should be here by Saturday.

The city came, free of charge, to paint the block wall that someone painted on. I haven’t seen it yet, though.

I have yet to get to the great news and the funny news, but I will soon.

Later…

Well, Andy’s been on the phone now for a while, so I’ll just wait till I hear from him. He wants me to read him the weird letter he wanted me to type to a very snotty customer.

I called and talked to Dad today. He sounded great and Ma was out playing bingo.

I also called Tammy who was really pissed and is having more problems with Lisa’s ex-friend Stacey. I guess Stacey beat up Lisa at school or tried to. Lisa’s afraid and has to be escorted to classes. Bill called telling the principal that he’d better guarantee her safety…or else! Tammy said she wishes she could get her hands on this 11-year-old and that she wished I could call her. I did and said what she told me to say - that Stacey better keep her hands to herself or else she won’t have any hands or mouth. I told Tammy, too, that if trouble persists, she can give me their address and I’ll send catalogs and whatever to them in NPN envelopes. I can also send them weird letters and when they see the Phoenix postmark, they’ll be thoroughly confused trying to figure out who hates them all the way from Phoenix.

It hit 87º here and that wonderful news is still yet to come!

Later…

Andy’s got company, I just remembered, so I read him the letter on his VM.

Tom should be home soon, but first I think he’s stopping off for some groceries.

OK, here’s my good news. Just as I was finishing up painting, I had the doors open, when there was a big boom for the second time. Luckily it wasn’t nearly as loud this time around. Then, fire trucks and cruisers went heading down towards that same alley from Claredon St. People came out to see what was up. Same with the heavy metalling teen across the street and 3 of his buddies. He asked if I knew anything, then we got to talking. Once we hit the music subject, I told him my honest feelings about it. He then said they practice every Thursday and gave me his number, saying that if it ever got too loud to call.

Great! And he did sound sincere enough, although I will still just wait and see.

I also had a nice chat with Lenore next door. Yup, they’re Mormons. She’s going to drop kid #5 anytime now, and they home-teach their kids. That explains why they’re always home. These people must have bucks to support so many kids, and how they all fit into a 3-bedroom house, beats me. She says she hates the heat here and plans to spend the whole summer in Idaho where she’s from. Dean will fly to her every so often. I asked her if she ever heard my music and she said no and asked if I could hear their piano. Nope, but even if I did, that wouldn’t bother me.

How do they fit a piano in such a small house?

TUESDAY, MARCH 15, 1994 Oh no, here I go again thinking of a kid. Where are these goddamn urges coming from? Especially when I know damn good and well it’d be the worst thing for me. For several reasons. Oh well, all I can do is fight it and ignore it. A baby isn’t in my cards. Not even if I weren’t sterile.

I didn’t get up today till 11:15, so I’ll probably be up till 3:00 or 4:00 just vegging.

Later…

There was a catfight outside a little while ago, but in the meantime, Tom and I had the best talk ever about us getting married and having a kid. Now I feel like I can easily deal with daily thoughts to have one, even though they’re not daily. They’re about 5-10 days out of the month. We’re going to discuss a date tomorrow, but we’re both so sure. I never thought I could want it to be forever and have that person want that, too. I never think about or worry if it’ll end in a year, or 5 or 10. All I know is one day at a time and how I feel right now. We’re also both trying to keep an open mind to any possibilities such as having a kid or whatever. We won’t say I won’t and we won’t say I will have a kid, but 1996 is the year we’ll think about it seriously. We’re not against those who have kids before, during or after marriage, but whether I do or don’t, 1996 is a good year to decide, although I still have mixed emotions about it and probably always will. Plus, there’s still a 90-something percent chance that I may be sterile.

Well, it’s off to bed now.

Later…

Got up at 11:00 today, then Tom and I went to the library. We didn’t look for the article, cuz the more we thought about it, the more we figure they won’t have it. Greenfield’s not a huge enough paper.

We did get a DES book. I only scanned through it quickly, but it looks like DES-related cancers aren’t as bad as I thought. However, sterility is most certain. If not, a miscarriage is. In a way, even though I’m sure a kid’s not in my cards, this is a bummer, cuz it’s taking away my options and freedom of choice for 1996.

After the library, he got a haircut which looks very nice. I went into Ross’s clothing store while he was getting his hair cut. For a total of $23, I got a melon-colored denim vest and a short sleeve sundress. At the hair salon, I got a bottle of that detangler.

From there Tom and I went to a buffet. The food would’ve been good if it weren’t cold. After eating we came home.

Later…

Tom called the mortgage company and he set up an appointment for Tuesday.

Right now he’s watching a video of Wendy’s vacation back in New Jersey and New York.

I took Piggy out back for a while and we sat in the swing. Now I think I’ll go sit out back for a while.

MONDAY, MARCH 14, 1994 I was just talking with Andy and we were discussing ways to keep out of trouble, yet still have some fun.

We just left Ellie a message whom we’ll want to see some night. Also, I wouldn’t be too surprised if Rosemarie was still there and I’d like to leave a note on her car. I wonder if Mark and Robert are still there, but this I highly doubt. I’m sure Scott moved a long time ago, too. People who make so many enemies so fast tend to move a lot.

I just had an idea. A good one, too. It’s been about the summer of ‘92 since I’ve copied conversations from tapes in here in script form. I can take Tom’s microcassette recorder, record some stuff, then put it in here. This thing can also rewind and fast forward while the play button is down. The old little portable cassette player I used to use for this is in the computer room and it’d be a pain to bring it in here.

Later…

Before I do some script form convos, and before Tom comes home, let me update the day’s events. Actually, it begins shortly after I last wrote.

I must’ve had massive gas, cuz my stomach was throbbing. It was pretty weird and a bit scary too. It all began when I sat down to watch TV. First I could feel it, then I looked down and my lower right side of my stomach was literally throbbing and pulsing. I was very nauseous too, and at one point almost certain I was going to puke, but luckily I didn’t have to. Is it something I ate? My meds? PMS? Tension cuz of the assholes across the street? Plus, I know it isn’t going to let up for another two months. Once these people start, they don’t stop. Next Thursday - Sunday afternoon they’ll be up to the usual shit.

Am I going to drop to my knees again and beg God to stop it? Nah, he isn’t done letting me listen to other people’s noise. Every weekend, I’ll just have to feel like and be reminded of apartment living. It’s almost like something up there’s taunting me with it. The more I want peace and quiet the more noise it throws at me. Not a peep, though, from next door. There’s no way they could’ve been home last weekend. No way at all.

Kim called with Bob’s address. Guess it is Cedar Junction prison in Walpole, bordering Boston. She’s going to try to see him at the end of the week. Tomorrow I’ll be sending off a letter and she’ll be doing the same. I sure hope he gets it.

Andy had a weird encounter with a customer at work, but I’ll write about it after I have a cigarette.

Later…

OK, so about Andy’s customer. He overheard a man and a woman talking. The woman said, “So, how was your visit with Jodi?”

The man said, “This is the second time and this time we talked a lot more. She really opened up and seemed so much happier.”

Andy said he had no gray hair. Also, we only saw each other once, but it sure was weird. He said he almost asked the man if his name was Larry.

SUNDAY, MARCH 13, 1994 Last night I fell asleep at 1:30 and awoke with upper stomach pains at 5:00. I’ve never really had upper stomach pains before and Tom said it could’ve been heartburn. I don’t know, but at least I’m better now. I fell back asleep at around 7:00 and got up just after 11:00.

Yesterday I began to be aware of my period on its way, so I’ll be dealing with that really soon.

Later Tom and I will be going grocery shopping. I’m not really looking forward to that, and today it’ll be mobbed.

It’s nice out today, but very breezy. I like that, though.

Even though I have an Abba CD on now, it’s quiet outside. I don’t think they’re home next door.

Last night I made Tom a tape of Sting and Meat Loaf with the new tapes. One of them, anyway.

Later…

I’ve got some very good news. Andy’s going to be starting 2nd shift real soon! He’s going to be calling back real soon. He’s packing now, as he’s going to Vegas for two days, the lucky fem.

Earlier Tom went grocery shopping and he got some watercolors. They’re a far cry different than a pencil or a marker, but I’m practicing. I touched up a so-so Gloria drawing and made it pretty nice. Nicer than I’d expected. I also typed letters to my parents and Kim.

That’s all for now.

SATURDAY, MARCH 12, 1994 Well, I’m still up, despite the fact that I don’t think I will be for too much longer. I turned down the idea of typing letters. I’ve got lots to tell everyone, too.

Come to think of it, I’ve gotten no calls from Fran or messages left by him.

Deep down, for curiosity’s sake, I wonder what is really going on in Nervous’s life. Is he still with Crystal? If so, how’s it going? I wonder who else he knows and what else he’s doing. That is, aside from working at the leather shop. I’ll never really ever know, now will I?

More so, I wonder how Bob’s coping with being in prison. Thank God he didn’t get in trouble while I was there. I sure needed him when Kim wasn’t around.

Tuesday we’re going to the library to look for Bob’s article in the Greenfield newspaper and perhaps pick up a book on DES.

Later…

I got up a couple of hours ago and I watched last Wednesday night’s show I forgot I had to finish.

It’s beautiful out now and so far it’s been very shockingly quiet. I don’t even know if they’re home next door.

Tom’s working now on the back room and I’m bored.

Later…

Tom and I finally planted our carrots and lettuce. In the back of this book, I wrote up a chart. This way we have the dates of when we plant things and what’s in each row.

It looks as if it might storm out there.

Next door’s been quiet, and if they’re doing their shit across the street, I don’t know about it. I have the radio on in my room and the living room, which also has speakers in the back room.

Oh, how could I forget! I’m 99 pounds and I don’t think I’ve been there for a few months.

Also, when I woke up I thought I was pre-cramping, but it was really gas. My tits don’t hurt, my stomach doesn’t hurt, and lastly, I’m not too bloated. I wish it could be like this every month.

Later…

Tom’s now watching the end of a movie I already saw on HBO. When he’s done, we’re going to fool around.

Yuck! I think I now feel some pre-cramps.

It rained a little out, so the garden oughta love that.

Later…

Tom and I just did a lot of work on the back room and it looks so much better.

I just cranked the music up as I’m sure that any time now they’re going to blast off. I’m not in the mood to be reminded of apartment living.

Got a message from Tammy. Going to go copy it in now.

FRIDAY, MARCH 11, 1994 I know it’s been a few days since I last wrote. Well, I’m sorry to have to say this but this journal’s going to be ending on a sour note. I do have some good news, and the bad news is nothing compared to my bad days back East, but it’s still bad enough. I have a few major subjects, then some little stuff to write. I’ll save the better stuff for last.

Did I, or did I not say my luck would run out with the assholes across the street? Well, it did. They played last night for nearly an hour and a half. I had been in a great mood too, and my mood was totally shot to hell. Tom says it’s too soon to worry, but I know it’s the same old cycle. They’ll do this 1-3 times a week now for months. Like 5-6 months before they back off for another 2 months if they ever do again. I refuse to deal with it all over again. I must think and act fast. Andy’s got to know someone who can do something. I can’t and I won’t deal with this shit all over again. Now the tension’s on once again. Only several months of peace can cure that, but I won’t get that peace unless I take serious action.

Now, I have one more, not-too-cool piece of news. Well, as for the cigarettes, well, we’re together till death do us part. I’ll just have to go young, but there’s no way I can ever get off them. Tom still says I will quit, and he’s been right about everything, so far, but I don’t see it.

Speaking of seeing things - I’m pretty good at picking winning horses. I’ll have to continue trying to develop it.

Cigarette break now.

Later…

OK, now on with the better news, among news in general. The kitchen’s more than half done. We tore down the paneling and Tom’s now repainting it off-white. Boy, does it look a lot better! Brighter and so much more cheerful.

I miscounted the days till my next period, thinking I was due on the 13th. I’m due on the 16th, but the great news is that I still feel no signs of it. I’m bloated, but my boobs aren’t sore and I have no pre-cramping.

Tom introduced me to another super neat thing on the computer. This thing that’ll either repeat back what you type or that’ll have a conversation with you. I taped one of our talks on a microcassette recorder of Tom’s. The bummer of it is, is that it doesn’t say what I type. Only its response.

Tom got out some of his musical instruments as he was rearranging the back room. A trombone, a trumpet, and a flute. I played a little trumpet for the first time in my life. You kind of have to spit into it to sound off the notes. It was hard, but I managed to sound off a few notes. The flute was easier and miraculously I was able to remember where certain notes are after so many years for one who didn’t play for long. Also, now that I have good pitch, I could tell what the notes were that I randomly keyed and played.

Last night, Tom and I sang some songs of Linda’s. He played the chords on the keyboard while I sang.

He also got a programming language thing that will save so much time on the business so we don’t have to stall in another 3 months.

Later…

There’s not much more to do with the kitchen and soon we’re going to work on the back room. Tom’s making himself something to eat, then we’re going to work on it.

Later…

Tom’s now hosing off a low/wide table that was here when he moved in. He’s going to put some of his books and equipment on it till we build wall shelves in the cubby hole at the far end of the back room. I’m going to be using a taller bookshelf that’s also of solid wood. The little wooden bookcase will replace the plastic ones my CDs and CD player are now on. I hate the plastic ones cuz they sag.

I called Kim last night and asked her if she’d found any information on Bob and where he is. Sure enough, just as I told Kim, Minnie never sent Kim the article about Bob in the Greenfield paper. Kim says she has the weekend off and will then try to find stuff out. Tom says it’s a matter of public record, which is true. Kim can find out at the courthouse where he is. Also, we may be able to see the article from our library here. That’d be nice. I’ll let Kim know of all this the next time I write her, but she probably will figure it out on her own.

Well, now I’m going to go see what Tom’s up to and if I’m needed.

Later…

Tom and I sure got lots and lots of work done in the back room. We’re on break now. He’s watching basketball and I’m lying on my bed.

We ordered dinner from My Mother’s. He got a pizza and I ordered a prime rib dinner, but it will probably be a while before it gets here.

Right now I want to change my sheets before it gets much later.

Later…

Boy, that was yummy! Plus, they screwed up in our favor. His pizza and my prime rib totaled about $19, but they charged us only $11. I’m so full now and I’m trying to burp it up as best I can. Perfect timing, though, cuz at 9 PM I need to take my meds.

After I finish this journal and begin the next one, I’ll probably listen to music.

Later…

OK, well, here I am on the last page! I just went back and put the color changer through all the pages I did today. Counting this page I’ve done 16 pages. Now it’s time for the one with all the cool stamps from all over the world. Journal #60! I really thought it’d be the year 2000 and something when I’d hit journal #60. Especially when I first began in 1987. I hate #50 just 4 months ago.

Later…

Tom’s going to bed in a few minutes and I am too, in a little while.

Tomorrow it’ll be another 80º day and Sunday it’ll be somewhere in the neighborhood of 85º.

Earlier I saw Marlee Matlin in Hear No Evil. I missed the first half-hour, but what I did see was good. It was also the first time I saw her topless.

Just when I thought my hair might quit growing for a while, it’s even longer. Just about touching the crack of my ass.

No concerts from across the street, thank God, but I still won’t hold my breath. Tomorrow and Sunday will be next door’s turn, although I’m not shocked I didn’t hear more of them last weekend.

I’ve got lots of new pens that won’t be drying up anytime soon, so I’m going to do each day a different color.

I asked Tom when he thought Bob would be able to write letters. He said maybe in a couple of weeks. I sure hope so.

TUESDAY, MARCH 8, 1994 Cool! I’m only 5 days away from my period and feel no signs of it. No pre-cramping, no sore tits, but I am a little bloated. Aren’t I always? Actually, though, I’m not as bloated as I normally am only 5 days away.

I wish it were almost time for me to go to the ACS class. I’m really looking forward to it and I want it to work sooo badly.

I think I’ll go watch the 2½-hour shows I taped.

Later…

I’m watching Geraldo now and next is Charlie’s Angels.

Tom’s leaving soon to go get paint for the kitchen. He’s also getting a sander.

Everyone has their hang-ups. I just hate to watch TV with someone else. I like to watch TV alone. That’s when I want my space like when I listen to music. But Tom won’t let me watch TV alone. He could be in the computer room, then only intend to come into the kitchen, but instead, he stops and watches whatever I have on. If I want to keep him in the living room forever, all I’d have to do is keep the TV on. Well, I did want him to see how I could do all of program 2 on one of my workout videos. So, I put it in the VCR and did it knowing he’d sit right there through the entire thing.

He said he hates talk shows. Well, he loves them now, cuz that’s what he’s watching.

Later…

Tom came back an hour ago with all kinds of things to do the kitchen with. He even got new kitchen faucets.

He’s about to make us bacon and eggs, then we’re going to go plant the lettuce and carrot seeds.

I wish it were time for me to go to my class now.

Still no mail from Kim today. I don’t know what’s taking her so long to send the article and find more info. I’ll send her a letter soon.

I got another collector’s plate under the name of Ann W. Had to be from Andy or Fran. It’s black Labradors and it’s nice. Now I have a total of 6.

Later…

Well, in 2 hours and 15 minutes, we’ll be leaving for the class. I hope for the best.

In the meantime, we dug up patches of dirt, shook the dirt out, and took the grass out of the area where we’ll be planting seeds.

I really miss Andy. I hope to hell he gets a night job somewhere soon. Second shift would be perfect for him and I know he’d want that much more than third.

He’s now on the phone talking to his friend Eileen. Me? I’m just bored as hell till I leave. Think I’ll go make myself some coffee now.

MONDAY, MARCH 7, 1994 I meant to write yesterday, and yes, I do have lots to update on. Today’s surely different from those hot days we’ve been having. It’s raining and thundering. I like the change, though, whereas back east, that’s all it ever does and you pray for a day without rain, let alone cold and snow.

This weekend was fairly quiet. No music and no steady hour-after-hour ball bouncing, although I did hear it a little. When I went to put my mail out, I saw their ball laying in their driveway. Part of me wanted to take it and ditch it somewhere, but I didn’t want to be seen. Plus, I’m sure they’d just turn around and get a new ball. Still, it’d be nice if some kid came by and took it.

I hope it rains this weekend and then I’ll have had enough of it for a while. I do look forward to the monsoon season, though. It’s awesome. Also, as it gets hotter and hotter, fewer people will be out.

Tom’s working now, but tomorrow he’s on vacation till next Monday. We expect to be very busy, but I’ll tell you what we do as we do whatever we do. Last Saturday we finally began to take down that ugly old paneling. Soon we’ll paint the whole kitchen an off-white.

I can’t remember all the things we did Saturday, but things have been OK. All except for the fact that my camera’s broken. I was so bummed out, too, as I took some really cool pictures.

Yesterday I skated for nearly 3 hours and I loved it. I skated around the pool and on the patio. It was so much fun and I felt very relaxed and confident. I really am an OK skater. I certainly wouldn’t dare do a triple axle with no coach, but I can spin and jump enough to have fun with it. Tom and I want to get rollerblades so we can go on the streets. This way I can do more and I can go fast. The two pairs of skates I have aren’t good for the streets. One little pebble can send me flying all the way to the Grand Canyon.

Well, Tom and I talked about my little consultation tomorrow and I canceled it. I hate going to the doctor and if I ever have surgery again, it’ll be to hear out of two ears or if it’s something necessary to save my life. Tom really thinks it would depress me and he’s probably right cuz then we’d never know for sure what’s in store for the future, even though we think we already have a pretty good idea. I never thought I could or would have a great relationship and be able to handle it, so who knows? I even mentioned it to my mom and even she said it was a big deal and gave me the impression that I should forget about it.

I feel like I’m forgetting something, but if I remember it, I’ll write it in.

No mail from Kim today, so I wonder what the delay is.

I hosed down the pig’s cage yesterday. It sure was nice just to take it a few feet outside the back door, rather than 4 flights up and down or in the bathtub.

The sun’s out now.

SATURDAY, MARCH 5, 1994 For the third night in a row, I got up at 1:00. The next couple of days I’d better sleep later. Tuesday I have a very long and very busy day. Tom will probably be up by 8:00 and then we’ll begin working on the kitchen. It’ll be a major task, but hopefully fun.

Well, I must first go and get myself a bite to eat as I am hungry.

Later…

I definitely have to cut down on being in the sun for a while. Yesterday I noticed small traces of the beginnings of sun poisoning on my stomach. How am I ever going to get a serious tan without getting sun poisoning? If I were to spend another day or two outside I’d definitely have it over my whole body, and it itches like hell.

Since I ran out of my shampoo I’ve been using Tom’s Head & Shoulders, and yuck! It reeks like shit. When he lays with me in bed, he leaves that stench behind on my pillow. Masculinity stinks, as much as I love this guy. He’s the only guy I’ve ever met, though, that doesn’t have BO. Thank God for that much.

I’ll have to ask him if he heard the heavy metallers playing last night since I was asleep. I’ve got the radio all set to go today as I’m sure they’ll be out front playing ball all fucking day today.

Today, we’re going to take down that old-fashioned, ugly, disgusting wall paneling. Tom’s going to fix part of the ceiling, too, and soon enough we’ll repaint the kitchen. The counter, sink and cabinets will be redone one of these days, too.

Later…

I’m bored now. I wish I were just waking up. There’s nothing I can really do till Tom gets up. I also have to really push myself to stay up as long as I can. The birds just woke up. I hear them chirping away now.

Andy left a message laughing over the same thing I was laughing about on his machine. It’s sooo gorgeous here, while they have 3’ of snow back east!

Well, I’m off to go brush my teeth now and put on a little makeup.

Wonderful. Here goes that beast next door.

Later…

It must’ve been someone else’s dog I heard, cuz after I last wrote, I didn’t hear anything.

Tom got up around 7:00 and we went grocery shopping. There, I got 3 pens. Pink, purple and blue.

After we got home, we started pulling off the paneling. While he went to get my meds, I yanked the nails out of the wall behind the pieces we already got out. He’s doing the ceiling repair now. I’ve got the fan on exhaust blowing out dust and crap like that as well as a Fleetwood Mac CD, so when the kids next door go out to do their thing, it should muffle it.

I hope I get mail today.

It’s going to be another hot one out there and I’m not going to hang out much today. If the pool was warmer, that’d be different, but without going out and opening the doors, I got my fresh air. The bedroom and bathroom don’t get much fresh air, so I can’t wait till the EC is set up. This way I can air it out daily for a little while, at least, till the EC is on all the time.

Later…

Tom’s taking a break and eating hot dogs I just made for him. Soon, he’s going to a friend’s house to fix their computer.

FRIDAY, MARCH 4, 1994 Got a letter from Alex yesterday. He’s back in Deadfield at the same address. Then, why’d he move to Illinois? Must’ve taken a long vacation there. Maybe today I’ll get another letter from Kim. Maybe this time it’ll have more information. Like an address and that article. Alex typed the letter he sent this time around, which was great. I had asked him to type if he could and if he had a typewriter cuz his handwriting is incredibly sloppy. Most deaf people type well cuz they’ve plenty of practice due to using the TTY system so much.

Later…

I really hate that when I’m very much in the mood to write but have nothing to say. I need a fun everyday project to keep me busy. I’m getting bored with just the stuff I already do. I’m just not in the mood to type letters right now. Besides, I’m going to wait till my new order of envelopes arrives. They’ll get here in a day or two. I’m not in the mood to veg in front of the TV now. Plus, nothing’s on. I don’t feel like editing, but I am hungry. I’ll go zap another piece of pizza.

Later I’ll work out and hang out outside as it’ll be 83º.

Later…

Today’s just as gorgeous as I said it’d be. I got even more color. The only thing not too peaceful was the dog next door. At least it didn’t keep going and going, though. The kids next door are out front. Why do they always go to the front? I’ve only heard them out back once or twice. This is good for when I’m out back, but when I’m in the house I’m at the front of the house most of the time.

I just checked and they’re gone now, thankfully. I think they got company. Some blue truck is now parked in front. This weekend, I’m sure I’ll have to listen to them play ball. The guy (Dean) just left in their red van. I just thank God the dog doesn’t go on and on like when they first got here. That our place isn’t attached to theirs. That the music people across the street have shut up and that the dog across the street is gone. I pray to God constantly not to let my luck run out. This is my time now for peace and quiet after so many years of being so affected by other people’s noise. I live in a house now. It’s my right just as well as anyone else’s right.

I just checked again. Those kids apparently were only out a second.

The scars from the NHA, Vista Ventana and Crystal Creek will be with me for years to come, if not always. At least it’s getting better. The longer I see this place fairly quiet most of the time, the more my tensions and memories will fade.

No one’s ever going to wake me up again. And if they do, I’ll be sure to give them a wake-up call in the middle of the night. I can promise this for sure.

I hope the mailman brings me a letter from Kim today. That is because my parents won’t write until next year, Fran and Bob never will, and Alex will write again in May or June.

Boy, do I ever need something to eat now. I think I’ll heat up the last piece of pizza. Tom got a few things from the store early this morning before work.

We’ve got huge plans for tomorrow, but I’ll get into that later.

Later…

I’m going to do a little bit of writing, so as to keep myself awake a little longer.

About an hour ago - boy did I have a big scare. I was watching TV when all of a sudden – boom! I asked myself…was that a gun? A firecracker? It even popped the mailbox open. I called 911, then eventually I looked out front. I saw nothing and the dispatcher said a transformer could’ve blown.

After we hung up, people outside were talking about it and two guys driving by in a car asked me if I knew anything. Then a female cop that looked like a lesbian came to the door. She was a better-looking version of Linda the cab driver back in Springfield. She wasn’t the ugliest, but no one I’d ever sleep with. She was nice, though. She at first asked if I knew any drug dealers around cuz maybe a drug lab blew up, but it turns out that someone blew up the dumpster in the alley behind the houses across the street. Boy, if we lived over there, or they blew up ours in our alley while I was out back there, I’d most certainly be deaf.

No mail for today.

Tomorrow we’re going to start working on the kitchen, but I’ll put off writing about that one till tomorrow.

THURSDAY, MARCH 3, 1994 I got up at 1 AM and Andy left a message saying he wants his messages taped. He got the same message I got. US West says that this Sunday from midnight - 9 AM, the VM will be shut down so we can’t get our messages and no one can leave us messages, either. I wonder what the hell they are doing this time? They better not fuck up the system, though, or bump off the stutter dial tone that tells us we have messages.

Now, I’m going to go and continue watching my shows. I’m so fucking hungry too, but there’s hardly any food.

Later…

Well, I managed to scrounge up a hamburger and I had a bowl of cereal. Later I’ll make pork chops.

I taped Andy’s messages, called in my refills and scheduled an appointment for a consultation on a hysterectomy.

Boy, do I feel mixed emotions. When I hung up I felt a sense of depression and fear, but I know I’m doing the right thing. The thought of being held up in the hospital is scary, though, and I don’t want to burden Tom. I hope those scary stories of depression aren’t true, but everyone’s different. It won’t hurt to at least get information. I think it’ll be a worthy investment for the years to come. I can’t keep dealing with PMS and periods. Well, I could, but I sure don’t want to. Also, I can be able to go from 100% sure I can’t and won’t have kids to 200% sure. I hope it’ll curb my sexual appetite, too.

Later…

I almost chickened out several times and called to cancel my appointment, so I’m just trying not to think about it for now.

I am absolutely looking forward to checking out those quit-smoking sessions next week. I can’t wait.

I’m also looking forward to hanging in the sun out back in about an hour. It’s boring, though.

Tom warned me that I should stop blasting my music, but that’s the only way I really enjoy it and can get into it. Turning it down seems as impossible as my growing another foot taller. He says my hearing sucks. Nah, I don’t think so. It’s just so-so, but yes, it does suck when there’s background noise, like in a restaurant.

Oh! I’ve been meaning to write this in but I keep forgetting. God answered another prayer for me. For a couple of months now, the dog across the street has been gone. Yeah! I love it! It’s so much quieter and more peaceful when I’m in the living room with no TV or music on and especially when I’ve got the door open. The dog next door is so much quieter, the kids aren’t out very often, gone is the dog across the street and gone is the heavy metal band! Thank you, God! You did hear my prayers, after all. Now, please help me quit smoking for good.

I’m out back by the side of the pool now and yes, it’s going to be a warm one. It already feels warm and it’s still early. Where’s the cloudiness they predicted, though? I like it when it’s cloudy so the sun doesn’t kill my eyes.

Later…

Well, I did get some color and this is the warmest day so far this year that I remember of. If I stayed out much longer I’d definitely fry. Tom’s right. I have to do it little by little.

Damn! I just noticed my $300 check here that Tom forgot. He was to cash it at lunch.

So, anyway, I have the door open and the fans on to circulate the air. It’s sooooooooo beautiful. And Tammy’s freezing with 3’ of snow. Ha, ha, ha!!

What other little tidbits of news can I tell? Let’s see… I showered and did my hair. I need more shampoo. My legs are a little hairy, but I don’t feel like solving that problem now.

I watched parts of some talk shows and Charlie’s Angels.

The sink’s clogged up once again.

I hope the mailman isn’t too long in coming and that I get a letter from Kim with more information. Getting one from Bob is just wishful thinking and dreaming, I suppose.

Just took an Ibuprofen for a slight headache. Luckily that stuff is cheap and doesn’t cause any side effects to have to deal with.

I worked out a little and I should do more.

I’m 10 days away from my next period, so now is when I’m going to start to bloat out.

I haven’t done any wall art lately, but I will sooner or later. All the things I do have their phases. I have to think of new ideas and add more variety to the flowers. Being just your average artist, though, that’s not always such an easy thing.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 2, 1994 Tom’s in the shower now and soon he’ll be gone for work.

Yesterday was a beautiful day and I laid out and got some color.

When I got up at 10:00 last night I watched the Grammy Awards I taped. Gloria won for her album Mi Tierra and she looked good. Her hair’s growing back, but when I saw her on Larry King she looked great. I loved how she had her hair straighter and it made her look younger, too.

When I woke up my stomach was fine, thankfully. It sure is weird though, how I get that for a few days every now and then.

I typed up 5 letters, too. To my parents, Tammy and the girls.

Almost an hour ago, Tom and I went to Circle K. We got something to eat and drink and I got cigarettes.

Speaking of cigarettes, well, it’s hard to keep a positive outlook when you’ve tried several methods of quitting and they all failed. However, I’m going to call the American Cancer Society and see what they say.

I’m also going to call my doctor’s office to see if there’s any way I can get a hysterectomy. I want to at least get information. I know it’s not elective surgery, as Tom said, but I’ve seen several news documents on women who had it done when they never needed it. Doctors will do anything to make a buck. I know this firsthand. I know some women have claimed to have horrible side effects, and Tom’s sister does too, but every woman’s different. I just don’t think it’s fair for me to have periods when I’ll never have a kid, even if I weren’t sterile.

It’s going to be another gorgeous day, so, I can’t wait to go out.

Later…

I have excellent news. First of all, it looks like I can probably get a hysterectomy done and paid for. I called my doctor’s office and they said I could either go there or to my GYN (guess that would be Dr. Kolnick) for a consultation. I guess the state would cover it cuz it’s considered sterilization. I’ll talk to Tom and perhaps we can check it out. Maybe after April, cuz this is when he thinks we can go to Disneyland.

Now here’s the best news of the day. I called the American Cancer Society and every other month they have 4 quit-smoking classes free of charge! They begin at 6:30 and run for 1-1½ hours. The next 4 classes are on the 8th, 10th, 15th and 17th and I’m really looking forward to giving it a shot.

Hey, it’s noon Eastern time now, so I want to go try calling that girl Minnie. Hope she and everyone else is thrilled at the fact that they’re in for yet another killer snowstorm! Hee hee!

Later…

It sure is beautiful out and I did lay out some, but it’s just so boring. Especially with not being able to swim. The only thing I miss about apartments is that their pools and Jacuzzis are heated year-round. I did get a little more color, so I won’t bitch about that.

I tried calling Minnie, but there was no answer. I’ll go try again.

Just got another letter from Kim. There was no article in it and this letter also sounds as if she had yet to find out about Bob.

I finally got in touch with Minnie, but she didn’t tell me anything I don’t already know. She couldn’t give me his address.

Later…

I just watched this talk show all about teenage girls in gangs. How sad, sick and disgusting.

I set the VCR to record A Current Affair, Unsolved Mysteries, Law & Order and Now. I really paid close attention as I was programming it, so if it doesn’t come out, I won’t be to blame.

Andy’s off tomorrow, so we’ll probably gab on the phone with one another at some point.

I’m pretty bushed now, so I’m going to hit the sack.

TUESDAY, MARCH 1, 1994 Tom’s address labels did come yesterday and he really likes them.

I got up at 8 PM and he’d been home for an hour. He made us Hamburger Helper. Then he watched Star Trek and I took a bath. Then he licked my pussy and we did laundry. At 11 PM he went to bed.

I idiotically taped the wrong fucking channel. I went to record a movie on channel 12 but got fucking Murphy Brown and some other bullshit on channel 10 instead.

I took some graph paper Tom gave me and made two envelopes. One to Kim and one to Fran. I colored in the squares. I typed Kim a letter and tomorrow I’ll probably get a letter from her.

I updated my checkbook. This month I’ll be getting $446 with SSI and SS combined. I got Tom’s $300 check ready. Also, I wrote a check for $10.79 for my monthly sewing machine payment, $34 for 100 stamped envelopes, and $22.80 for 3 new styles of labels. They’re very hard to describe, so when I do get them, I’ll stick them in here. Or the next book, more likely. Cuz they won’t arrive till the middle of this month and by then I very well oughta be in journal #60!

Now I need some coffee.

Later…

I just spent the last hour or so making up 5 more envelopes with really cool patterns. I did one for my parents, Tammy, Lisa, Becky and Sarah.

My stomach’s driving me absolutely nuts now.

Anyway, Tom got up at 8:00 and then he did the bills. He wrote out the checks and I stuck them in their envelopes, stuck the stamps on and his address labels.

He made us some bacon and he had French toast.

Well, I’ve figured out in my mind the 4 different fonts I’ll use for Tammy and the girls. I’ll use Bodacious for Tammy, Harquil for Lisa, postscript for Becky, and Rounders for Sarah.