#a month old sitting on my desktop... i give up. i give up

[caiabresebun]

i like him a normal amount

[nervoussagittarius]

20191009 I Like Her

matt sturniolo x reader

summary: y/n shows matt a song that explains the way he's been feeling

warnings: none just fluff

"matt, have you ever listened to mac demarco? " you ask as you lay on his bed. there's been a comfortable silence between the two of you as you search for new music and matt sits at his desk playing around with his computer settings.

somehow you had come across one of your old playlists that focused primarily on the album "2" by mac demarco.

while he was one of your favorite artists growing up, you never got the chance to listen to his newer music. matt looked at you for a second and held up a finger signaling that he'd answer you shortly, after he finished changing his desktop files around.

matt was trying to play it cool. he had been having these weird feelings towards you for the past couple days. he didn't know how they developed or what they meant. what he did know is that he didn't want to come off strong or seem overly interested in you even though his mind was screaming at him to say how he's been feeling.

truth be told, he didn't really know how he felt. he had only known you for a couple of months and you started coming around the house more because you were close with nick. though, as time went on you formed a bond with matt that was comfortable and safe. matt was always able to tell when he started liking a girl, but it was harder to find the words to explain how he felt about you.

matt felt the need to keep any relationship between you two strictly platonic. you were nick's friend first, and while he didn't think nick would care he didn't want to lose the trust that he had built with his brother. he vowed to himself that nothing romantic could happen between you two, but as days went on that thought flew further to the back of his head.

"mac demarco," matt asks, he looked at you again. "is he the one who sings salad days'"

"yeah and he has a lot of other good music, but i just found his newest album and there's one hundred and ninety nine songs on it"

you pressed shuffle on the album. it was intriguing that a majority of the songs just had numbers for titles,and no vocals to them, just melodys.

"this song is '20200821 cowboy shit' its different" you said as you both laughed listening to the lyrics.

"it's definitely something" matt replied still not taking his eyes off of you. he admired the way your eyes sparkled as you flicked through the songs. he noticed how your lips turned up in a twinge of a smile when you heard a lyric you liked. he loved moments with you like this. he could sit here with you forever.

"y/n" matt said as the next song started playing. he was nervous to ask the next question. he wanted to know if you could put a name to the emotions he was feeling. you had always been better with this kind of stuff. you knew how to communicate how you felt, and you were always an open book with him. "do you think it's possible for us to like each other as more than friends? i don't really know how to explain it but i've been having these thoughts recently and i cant tell if they're just plationic"

you stared at him in shock of what he was saying. you've had feelings for matt for a few weeks now, but you didn't want to make things weird by saying something.

the words to '20191009 i like her' played in the background as you two just looked at each other. you kept replaying matts question in your head to think of the best way to answer, while matt was focused intently on the lyrics to the song to try to distract himself from the tension that had begun to rise in his room.

i'd give the world to her

as long as my heart's still beating

as long as she's next to me

as long as this love still fleeting

because i like her

matt thought you looked beautiful even though it felt like he could see the wheels turning in your head as you tried to answer his question.

listening to the lyrics, he felt this thought clear, and he knew in this moment that he couldn't say his feeling were just friendly anymore. sensing this, you made your way over to him. he looked at you warily, almost expecting you to yell at him and tell him that that he was crazy.

there was another beat of silence. "i like you y/n, a lot. i would do anything for you. will you please give me a chance?"

without second thought, you cupped his face in your hands and kissed the boy that you had quickly come to like.

could it be make believe?

am i just walking through a dream?

haven't felt this way in

such a long time, i do believe

that i like her

an: i've never written anything like this before so please tell me if you liked it or if you think i should change something. i'm always open to receiving feedback. i really appreciate you guys being here and if i could give each of you a forehead kiss i would

[evol-astraea]

Desperate PC Tenno calling for help!

Calling all the tech-savvy players here on Tumblr who may hopefully lend me and tech support a hand. Yes, the situation is that bad. More under the cut to spare a lengthy wall of text!

I've been experiencing totally random and sudden crashes with WF since a month and half, by now.

The game first freezes for less than a minute, then crashes to desktop bringing up the window to report crashes. This happens literally anywhere and anytime in the game. During mission, at the end of the mission, while idling in the Orbiter/base of operations, sitting in the pause menu, checking the settings menu. All kind of possible scenarios. Ah, and DX11 or DX12 make no difference either.

It's driving me - and tech support - insane. Because it is so HARD to pinpoint the root cause! Every log file so far has reported some kind of General Protection Failure (GPF) error followed by different numbers.

I'm running the game on a brand new, pre-built computer from Megaport. Which I moved to from my old potato of a PC back in late November. Specs are the following: Windows 11 Home (build 24H2) Intel Core I7-12700KF, 8x 3.60 Ghz + 4x 2.70 Ghz ASUS Prime Z790-A Wifi DDR5 NVidia GeForce RTX 4070 Dual Palit 12GB 2x 32GB Corsair Vengeance RGB DDR5-6000 1 TB SSD 1000 Watt PSU

I have done everything tech support has suggested me to do and: - Uninstalled and re-installed the game, - Update drivers. Being a new computer, everything is pretty much up to date. I had to do a clean install for the GPU drivers only using DDU, though, - Verified game files, - Emptied the shader cache on the drive game is saved to, - Repaired Steam library, - Lowered graphic settings, - Attempted to launch and run Warframe in Clean Boot mode to exclude background programs/services <- unsuccessfully; Steam didn't work at all (which I kind of figured would happen) and trying to launch the game straight from the launcher...triggered a download of the game files in the App Data folder on main (C) drive. O_o The random crashes don't even appear in the Windows Event Viewer. Nowhere to be found. And believe me, I have looked into every single category. I've been keeping track of the time(s) of the crashes but, alas, found nothing that could possibly be related to those. (also, I'm not a computer expert so perhaps I'm doing things wrong)

So far, the only weird thing I've noticed is...Most of the times there seemingly is a "break" in between each series of crashes. A few days at worst, 10-12 days at best. Yes, I checked even the Task Scheduler utility on Windows. Found no program/app that runs automatically that matches with the timing/days when the crashes have occurred so far.

Really losing my mind to this. It's frustrating, it's unnerving, it's making me genuinely terrified of playing the game. And the reason I got this PC in the first place was being finally able to play my favorite game without worrying about being unable to because of my old (and obsolete) machine! Because I don't know when the next crash shall decide to happen and oh boy it's gonna be so fun losing progress. Or having a couple of players reasonably angry at me for suddenly poofing as host. I'm really sorry about that, folks.

I'm already considering the option of total formatting this computer, should there be no other way. But not before entirely giving up. And maybe make things a little less complicated for tech support team.

I can't thank these guys enough for their help and most importantly patience over the past month and half. This mess has been handed to three different people already and a solution hasn't been found yet.

So, if there are fellow Tenno on Tumblr who have either experienced something like this before and found a fix or are just more knowledgeable about computers and whatnot, your help would be GREATLY appreciated. ;.;

EDIT: I forgot to mention a few important things! - Hardware temperatures are within optimal range while in game (CPU never above 65°C, GPU has been running ice cold and has rarely exceeded 50°C so far, RAM is chilling at 45°C average). - GPU memory usage averages around at max (peak) 77% on HWInfo. - CPU usage I honestly need to check! D: - Ran disk cleanup, scans with sfc, chkdsk and DISM (all through command prompts ran as admin) and no issues were found. - Checked RAM health as well with Windows' memory diagnostic tool. However, it seems to give many false positives even on perfectly functional RAM banks. Looking for a more reliable alternative. - Warframe is the only game that keeps crashing on this PC. I haven't been getting any with other games/programs (Hades II; need to test how Ultrakill performs) or any warning signs (BSODs, freezes, sluggish PC, etc) that could suggest hardware failure.

[honorarysimp]

Epilogue: Ex Nihilo Nihil Fit

series masterlist

*Click*

“It’s currently sometime around 10AM this lovely Saturday, my final day in Woodsboro, as I conclude this investigation.”

A small, soft smile tugs at your lips as you sip a cup of coffee you’d gotten from the hotel lobby just earlier.

You have no questions for your coffee anymore.

Your other hand fidgets with your tape recorder, dials spinning within at that familiar slow and methodical pace.

“It’s been three months since the face off on the lakeshore, I find relief in stating on record we’ve finally found bodies, after a bit of patience and reassurance on knowing the lake is currently safe, multiple remains were found in ravines underneath the town, all connected by water channels that span for miles.”

You take a deep breath, wetting your lips as you sit the tape recorder down on the desktop, taking another sip of your lukewarm coffee before quietly continuing.

“Dental records as well as DNA analysis has brought many families peace. Including one Mrs. Becker who will no longer be calling the station every other month. I’ve come to a private conclusion that the entity isn’t invincible, after the face off against it, without a water source it’s required to take a physical form. Which explains how I was able to fight back at the abandon house, without its water and fog, it is vulnerable. If it can be hit, it can be killed.”

Your gaze wanders over your shoulder, heart fluttering at the bare back and mess of brown hair splayed across the pillow.

“And with me, I will be signing off giving all credit to my partner in crime, my beautiful plus one-“

“Watch it. Confirmed girlfriend” you hear Tara’s drowsy voice correct you, making you laugh softly as you sling your arm over the back of the chair and give your spine a little twist, satisfying pops following.

“-unconfirmed if Sam asks” you mutter jokingly before promptly cutting the tape recorded off, that audible click following as you peer back to Tara. She hums, stretches as she sits up, the muscles in her back flexing as she runs her fingers through her hair in an attempt to somewhat tame her bed head.

God, she’s beautiful, you can’t help but just look at her.

The last three months have been blissful, heavenly compared to the shitshow you’ve been through those three months prior. It’s still mind boggling to you just how long you’ve been here, on the excuse of “finishing your job” you came here for in the first place.

Not for sitting in that diner on certain late nights, meeting with a certain first responder as she’s getting off shift, to which you either end up at hers or your shitty hotel room.

Tara says it’s endearing, you hate the uncomfortable mattress, but it’s grown on you too. You’ll never admit it.

When you aren’t worshiping the ground Tara walks on, you’re at the Station with Sam, working with her and the rest of the officers on the searches.

Sam knows, you’re ninety percent sure Tara told her, but she never asks and you’re okay with that.

A hand on your arm snaps you out of your thoughts, it’s then you realize Tara had shifted to the edge of the bed closest to you, that smile paired with those hooded brown eyes do something sinful to your insides.

“Come on, it’s cold without you, finish later” Tara murmurs, biting her bottom lip as she reaches further to give your shirt the smallest tug, the sheet that once elegantly covered her now dipping “I know by now that mouth is good for more than talking to that stupid thing.”

God, the things this woman does to you, how could you ever deny her?

____________________________________________

It’s surreal, packing, tidying up the hotel room that’s become almost like a second home. Even with all things considered, or maybe it just started to feel like that in a fucked up way once the nightmares stopped.

You scoop an old pack of cigarettes off your desk, eyeing them for a moment. You don’t even know the last time you smoked one, and to be frank, you aren’t even sure why you haven’t tossed them yet. So, you do, walking over to trash where remains of your investigation board can be seen.

“Good riddance” you mutter as you drop it into the bin, taking a deep breath as you do a once over of the room, then you grab your single duffle and backpack.

As you head out, you offer a nod Bianca behind the front desk, the older woman smiling and giving you a departing wave goodbye.

As you head out of the hotel, a small smile tugs at your lips at the view.

Leaning back against the hood of your car is Tara, palms flat to the metal as she laughs warmly at something Mindy says to her, the other woman sat next to her while Chad stands off to the side with a smile of his own.

It makes you sad, to know this is all Tara has left of her friends she’s grown up with, she’s told you plenty of stories of the others to make you feel like you knew them to a certain extent.

You feel bad you’re taking her from them, even temporarily.

“You know, you still owe me a ride around in that ambulance of yours” you comment as you approach, Mindy scoffs and rolls her eyes at you.

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that making a bet drunk on a game of pool doesn’t count?” Mindy retorts, the same reply as always, “and I don’t owe you shit considering you’re taking my second in command.”

“You’ll be fine for two weeks without me” Tara says with a smile, which prompts Mindy to hug her, making Tara promise to call every day.

Chad follows you around to the backside of your car as you drop your bags into the trunk, next to Tara’s suitcase, your insides churning with a mixture of emotions.

“You know you don’t have to” he says to you, arm coming up to grab the opened trunk as you busy around adjusting things within.

“No, you were right. He should know” you reply, casting him a side glance, “besides I think it’s long overdue, just… be easy on him when he does yeah?”

Chad scoffs and looks off to the side, shaking his head, you see a retort on the tip of his tongue. Pulling back, you both tug the trunk down, lock clicking into place.

“Hey” you stop him before he continues, your head tilting slightly, “you don’t need to forgive him, but it wouldn’t be fair not to give him the opportunity.”

He doesn’t comment, seemingly shaking it off and offering you a half smile “just take care of Tara and bring her back in one piece, alright Detective? Don’t let her get lost in that big ass city of yours.”

You laugh and nod in agreement, extending your hand to which he firmly shakes, pulling each other in for a friendly hug.

“Congrats on the promotion by the way, the High School football team will be lost without their coach” you say as you bump your shoulder to his, he laughs and waves it off as you two round the car once more.

“I’m looking forward to seeing how he’s going to keep those kids in line as a Principal when they barely respected him as a coach” Mindy butts in, causing the twins to break out into a light hearted disagreement.

You smile, turning your head when you feel a finger hook into your pant pocket and tug, your eyes finding Tara’s as she mirrors your smile up at you.

“Sam’s going to meet us at Town Hall, said she had some last minute things to go over with the Mayor. Figured we could make it a two birds with one stone scenario for us” Tara says as you move toward her, standing between her legs as she sits back on the car.

“We can’t just avoid Sam all together?” you mutter jokingly, reaching up to curl a strand of her dark hair around your finger, she scoffs and gives you a look.

“She’ll hunt us down if we don’t, bury you alive, and drag my ass back home.”

You feign a gasp, mortified as you begin to lean away from her “I was buried alive thank you very much, how dare you bring that up-“

She cuts you off with a kiss, laughing softly against your lips. You can help but sink into it, hand coming up to gently cup her jaw.

When she pulls back you groan in protest, making her laugh and swat your chest playfully. You catch her hand, kissing the soft pink scar on her palm, making her breath hitch just the slightest.

Physical therapy hadn’t been easy for either of you, considering the small bit of nerve damage from your injuries. Tara had pushed through in strides far better than you, constantly reminding you that “what happened to us shouldn’t define the rest of our life”.

You couldn’t agree more.

Not to mention the “us” and the “our” she so easily refers to now when it comes to the two of you.

God, you don’t deserve her, but you’ll spend every day doing everything you can for her.

As you bid the twins tearful exchanges goodbye, the two of you slip into your car and head towards Town Hall.

Upon entering, you both make your way up to the Mayor’s office, where you find Sidney in the midst of a conversation with Sam. The two turn as you enter, you tip your imaginary hat towards them both.

“Mayor. Sheriff.”

Tara steps to the side with Sam, briefly hugging before running through a checklist of things Tara may need for her trip. Of course Tara plays it off like she’s annoyed by her older sister’s overprotective nature and concern, but you’ve learned to spot that smile she tries so hard to hide.

“Dinner still on for tonight?” You ask Sidney with a smile, approaching her desk as she rounds it to the other side, digging through one of her drawers.

She casts you a glance, a small smile of her own growing on her lips, it’s good to see her doing better as the days go. “That they are, it’ll be the first time in a few years that Jill and Kirby come back to town.”

“And Gale?”

“She’ll be there of course, still keeping herself as busy as possible” Sidney says as she pulls out a large envelope from her desk, straightening up and forcing her smile a bit more.

You pick up on it immediately, “she’s still talking about moving to the city?”

Sidney sighs, coming around the desk to stand in front of you, tapping the envelope against her free hand apprehensively.

“It’s just… we’re all we’ve got now, it’s going to be hard to see her leave” Sidney admits quietly, looking off to the side as she chews on the subside of her cheek, “but… I understand, needing to go. This town only reminds her of the man she lost.”

Your head tilts slightly, tucking your hands into the pockets of your pants “and you, Mayor?”

She gives you a tight lipped smile, steeling herself as she extends the envelope to you “your final paycheck, Detective. Thank you, for everything. I owe you a debt I’ll never be able to repay.”

With that, you smile again, tugging your backpack off your shoulder and pulling from it your box of tapes. “For you, Mayor” you say, trading her the content within for the envelope.

Her brow is furrowed, looking from the box in her hand up to you, “they’re mine, they have everything you might need to know on them with what all I know, you can repay me by not calling me if and when it ever returns.”

That makes her laugh, nodding once, extending one hand to which you shake, “it’s been a pleasure, Detective, we’ll be seeing you.”

You turn and head towards the Carpenter sisters, both now smiling and talking with less tension.

“Danny has family in New York, so if you keep her for too long, just know I’ll be coming to find you” Sam says the moment you approach, her hard gaze locking on to you.

It’s still as intimidating as the day you met her, but only now you can’t help but smile when Tara slips her hand into yours and laces your fingers together.

“You have all the information on where I live, and you’re both more than welcome to come stay if-“

“Okay! So great, bye Sam! Love you!” Tara interjects, pulling at your hand as she heads for the door.

“Bye Sam! Love you!” You echo, making Sam flip you off as you and Tara move through the threshold, you catch her smiling before she disappears from your view.

As you both get back into the vehicle, you start up the engine just as Tara buckles herself in, and for a moment you pause.

“Don’t. Get out of your head. I’m with you.”

You exhale, looking to her at the sound of her soft tone “but are you sure you want to use all your PTO for this? Just-“

Tara leans across the center console, fingers curling around the back of your neck to pull you forward for a sweet, passionate kiss as a symbol of reassurance.

And when you break apart, albeit just resting your foreheads together as your eyes meet, Tara murmurs “you’ve been in my world for a minute now, it’s my turn to see yours.”

The muscle in your jaw flexes as your teeth clench and unclench, your heart fluttering in your chest “okay, whatever you want.”

“I want you to get me the fuck out of this hellhole, hot shot” Tara says with a full smile that sends a sharp hot jab to your gut, giving you one last chaste kiss before sinking back into the passenger seat.

You mentally add that to the list of things you can’t tell her no to, which seems to grow exponentially the longer you two are together.

You pass by the diner on your way out, and your chest aches, you’ll miss it. Tara seems to read your thoughts, as she rests her hand atop yours on the gear shift. Your eyes meet for a moment and you share a silent look of understanding.

You don’t tell her about your last minute pitstop until you’re pulling down a familiar street, the side glance she gives you tells you all you need to know.

“What-“

“Chad asked me not to say anything, since you’re not really a fan of him” you answer before she can finish, parking the car and looking to her “at least until we got here.”

Her eyes narrow, jaw set as she leans back into her seat “unbelievable, what else are you keeping from me?”

“I’m pregnant and you’re the father” you say without missing a beat.

Instantly she’s fighting back a smile, scoffing and punching your arm as you unbuckle your seat “you’ve got fifteen minutes or I’m breaking up with you.”

“I’ll do it in ten” you say with a wink, quickly slipping from the car and briskly making your way inside.

When you knock, it’s in a far more calmly manner than the last time you were here, your hear the locks click before Randy peaks past the door.

“You’re alive.”

“We did it.”

He opens the door fully, one hand on the doorframe while the other loosely gripped the knob. A dry laugh comes from him, followed by “bullshit, how?”

“It’s not permanent, but we were able to find something temporary” you begin to quickly summarize “I came to tell you that you can go home, Billy and Stu are dead. So is Dewey.”

Randy winces at that, face twisting as he looks away, you continue by softly adding “your family needs you, Sidney needs you.”

For a moment he’s quiet, and then he turns to head back into his apartment, leaving the door open. Unsurely, you enter and follow after him.

You catch a glimpse of him popping free the same floorboard from last time, and from it he pulls a few pieces of paper. But upon standing and approaching you, your stomach sinks as you take in that familiar yellow stained parchment.

Your eyes move between them and Randy’s face a few times, the air sucked from your lungs.

“You tore them out? You had them the whole-“

“Take them” he says, holding them out to you, “I ripped them out when I’d learned just how powerful they were, what the contain, do with them what you please.”

Curiosity gnaws at your mind, but as always, the same singular factor holds you back. The thought of her does that to you now, considering just how much you now have to lose.

“I need to know… did you steal the book from Billy?” You ask him, the way his body stiffens answers your question.

Randy hesitates, but answers after a moment “long story short? I found out Billy had a daughter with a random we went to school with. Billy offered the book to me as a trade, saying it could save Sidney’s life, so long as I never spoke a word about what I knew. If only I’d known Billy had fucked me over the moment he gave me the book.”

You process this new information, your brain feeling like a needle skipping on a record “what- how did you find out? How were you certain?”

“Back then I had my hand in everything. If I didn’t know you to know what you knew, I knew someone you trusted that knew what you knew” is all Randy gives you, looking down to the pages in his hand then back up to you “do you want them or not?”

Still curious and hesitant, you ignore his question “do you know the identity of the child? Does she know who her father is?”

Randy shakes his head firmly, “it’s in the child’s interest that she never knows. So I’m taking this one to the grave, not for Billy, but for that poor kid.”

In a way you understand, Billy wasn’t the best, and if Randy found out about this kid back when they were in high school then she probably would be a little older than you. If you dug, you could very well find out who.

But Randy is right, why do that to someone, and get stamped as a bastard child of a psycho?

You take the pages from him and tuck them in your pocket without reading them, “go home Randy, you’re now unburdened and have run out of excuses to avoid it any longer.”

Neither waiting for confirmation or a verbal response, you turn on your heel and exit the apartment swiftly, heading back to your car.

“Nine minutes, you cut it close” Tara says the moment the car door closes behind you, already smiling when you look to her.

“Early is on time, on time is late” you laugh as you shift the car into drive and exit the parking lot, back on the road, no more stops. At least, not until you get to the first hotel for some sleep on your roadtrip to New York.

“You ready for your VIP front row seat to seeing the span of the whole country?” You say with a half smile, every nerve in your body lighting up as her arm drapes across the space between you and rests on the back of your seat, her fingers gently massaging the back of your neck.

“I didn’t know a view could get better than this” Tara whispers softly, tone vulnerable as her head tilts back on to her headrest, gazing over at you with that becomingly familiar gleam of adoration in her eyes.

This is where you decide you’ll burn the pages first chance you get, the promise of answers and knowledge isn’t worth losing Tara.

Tara fidgets with the radio, converse propped up on the dash, the small crack in the window making a subtle mess of her hair.

She’s beautiful. She’s everything to you.

Your eyes linger on Tara for a moment before you return your eyes to the road, content in your belly and a sense of home in your heart. As the radio crackles and a song begins to play, your eyes catch a street sign off to the right of the road.

Now Leaving California

Come Back Soon!

previous, next

AN: thank you all for following along and reading this story! It’s been a pleasure, an honor, and a privilege.

[bun3333s]

Heyyy I'm taking you up on the care package idea.

I'm gonna ask for a soft yandere, a little delusional if you can work that in. I love stuffed animals, sweets, witchy stuff, earrings, arts and crafts, and gardening. Thank you so much 🥺

this was so much fun !! thank you again <33 i wrote a little blurb for it + how you got it, images of what i had in mind at the end

it's dark out by the time you get home; maybe class ran late, the bus broke down, or just any manner of life deciding to make you a tad bit miserable leaves you arriving back later than you would've liked.

but guess what? you're home now, and that's all that matters - life be damned. a faint sigh escapes you as you step in, too busy with putting your things down to notice it at first. you're going through the motions - coat, bag, keys on the table so you don't forget them again - and that's when you see it.

maybe 'it' isn't the best way to describe what lays neatly arranged on your table. the edible arrangement strikes you first, chocolate covered and skewered up to form an aesthetically pleasing treat. beside it is a bouquet, white petals fanning out in intricate spirals from the center. it's sweet. almost too sweet, the fragrance on the edge of giving you a headache after a long day.

your eyes travel down from the most imposing artifacts to what appears to be a small collection of crystals: a freestanding blue one, and two others affixed onto jewelry. the blue crystal looks like an oversized marble, swirls of white throughout the sphere. there's red crystals hanging from a pair of teardrop earrings, and the pink one is chained into a dainty necklace.

it takes you a second.

your brain seems to hum with activity, the kind of noise an old desktop well past it's prime might make when you try to start it up.

"what the fuck."

why is there all this random stuff on your table? who put it there? in fact, how did they put it there?

slowly but surely you feel the pricks of adrenaline start. you're confused, you're scared, and you're still in the entryway holding your keys when you take the first step in what feels like an eternity.

your eyes dart around the familiar room, seeing nothing else out of place. they land back on the table, and you notice the neat envelope the gems sit on.

you grab it. maybe with a bit too much force, because it sends the jewelry to the floor, but you couldn't really be asked to care right now. the envelope is torn open just as unceremoniously as you scramble to unfold the paper within.

Dearest, Happy 6-month anniversary! These past months have been the best of my life. You are my sunshine, my breath of air in the raging sea, the soft tenderness in my heart. Thank you. For everything. I hope you know just how much you mean to me. I love you. P.S. I wanted to get you those crystal pillars, but I was worried you'd get hurt somehow with them. Make sure you don't accidentally stab yourself with the skewers! Sincerely, You know who <3

it's a sweet letter. a sweet gift, one you would've been ecstatic to receive under any other circumstance.

one problem:

you, in fact, do not know who.

here's some photos of what i imagined !!

a cute little edible arrangement filled with sweets and all the cheesy romance related food you can think of

a bouquet of gardenias :))

a little blue calcite decoration !

a heart shaped rose quartz necklace

red beryl earrings !

hope you like it :DD

[blucassiopeia]

Contrast

"A prelude spin-off for an upcoming fic"

warnings: afab!reader, reader being 5 years older, 8.6k LONG

A Sakusa Kiyoomi x reader oneshot

a/n: solid clue on this; sorry for the delayyy, a lengthy one to compromiseee

"What do you want? I still haveー"

"C'mon, Kiyo. You just got back here from Osaka."

"Then, speak. Stop hitting around the bush. You know I don't like hospitals."

"She's gonna be here any moment. Just be patient, son."

Kiyoomi grunted as he sat back on his dad's office couch. The office was rather modern, his dad desperately riding Kiyoomi's generation. Though, it has their big family portrait just right off his humungous desk that he remembered was from Barcelona. His desktop was coated with orange fluffy cloth siders, probably a gift of Sara's, Kiyoomi's 4-yr-old nieceーand it was paired with a keyboard and mouse of the same shade. It practically throws off the white and classy vibe of the place. He smiled at the thought.. but this is all till in a hospital's vicinity. Kiyoomi's stomach started stirring.

"So, how's your team? Are you fitting nicely?" His father asked as Kiyoomi fiddled with his phone, huffing through his black mask, very anxious to leave.

"Sort of. We have the leagues next three months."

"Oh fuck off. The chief resident asked you, not me."

"Please."

The door flung open and revealed you in your scrub suit and gown, tongue mockingly out to someone behind the door. You, then, slid inside the office and closing the door, your eyes fell on Kiyoomi first, and then to his father. Kiyoomi has to inch the distance more from the smell his nose registered. Where would she had been? Germs. Germs. Germs.

"You called for me, Sirーah, Doc?"

Kiyoomi didn't spare you a glance, still fiddling at his phone, maybe trying to give his volleyball team captain a text or two of any nonsense to keep him visually busy. He just wants to get out of that place. His system is screaming already. He might want an alcohol bath, uh, that's too much. How does his family doing it likeー

"That's my youngest right there, Kiyoomi." The chairman of the hospital gestured to the curly black-haired man sitting dejectively on the couch, trying his hardest to ignore your presence. You perked a brow.

You leaned to the chairman, in the attempt to whisper. "And? I don't babysit teenagers, Doc. Too busy in becoming the medical director that I promised you."

Kiyoomi happened to glance at your direction when his father laughed lightly at whatever you whispered to him. He noticed your pout as you straightened your back, your gown's fabric crinkling at the movement. What were you even whispering to an old, married man? His nose scrunched up behind his mask, returning his attention to his phone.

"Take him to dinner, Y/n."

Both of your heads snapped at Sakusa Takashi that's already beaming at you, clearly pleased at what he said.

"Whー" Kiyoomi started to retort but you raced him to it first.

"I'm still comfortable in third-wheeling with Dai or with Katana-nee, Doc. Are they whining over me already?" Your feet stomp at your every word, whining like a child.

Kiyoomi wondered how did you even know his brother, or his cousin. Are you acquainted with the rest of his family? He doesn't recognize you from the numerous family occasions, or in any business functions where you could possibly be but remained unnoticed to him. Ugh. He knows where this is going. This also happened to his sister, that she somehow liked after years. He shivered at the thought.

He can't take the atmosphere of the office anymore so he stood up and said, "I'm going home."

"And he's this rude, Doc?" You smirked at Kiyoomi's direction, the ChairmanーKiyoomi's fatherーmirroring you, teasing his youngest son.

Huh. Is this a challenge?, Kiyoomi thought as he stared straight at his dad, black eyes hardly pass your figure. He scoffed at his father that mouthed 'Just once.' And he bored his eyes on yours and sighed.

You clasped your hands together, easing the tension Kiyoomi was giving you. "So, gimme an hour or two and I'd be ready, Kiyo. Orrrー" You faced the chairman and winked at him, knowing fully well that he knew what you're going to do with his beloved son. "ーbe with me in my rounds."

When you turned back to face Kiyoomi, you were greeted by his twitching eyes behind those round and delicate thin rimmed glasses. You returned them with a sly grin.

Kiyoomi found himself trudging after you to wherever. He actively convinces himself that this is better than waiting on that area where various people flocksーthe germ and virus infested waiting area at the lobby. This is better than staying on his dad's office where he'll just not hear the end of a discussion he doesn't want to associate with. Being with you is better. Yes, being with you is better.

You rounded to a hallway and he lifted his eyes from your back when he heard a familiar voice in the nearby nurse stationーto which you're heading to.

"The patient in 302 has to have his rehabilitations in 3 hours. Is the facility ready?"

"Yes, Doc."

"Dai, are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

You heard Kiyoomi groaned at your back as Daisuke and Katana spotted you approaching with their Kiyoomi. Their eyes are on him, round with bewilderment and surprise. You snorted. They are the culprits, the nerve of them. But eitherway, it's turning out well. Hopefully.

"Kiyoomi?"

"Is that their volleyball player?"

"Doc Takashi's youngest! Sakusa Kiyoomi!"

"He's so tall!"

"So hot lookーI mean, good looking!"

"He looks like a rougher version of Doc Dai."

Daisuke was the first one to approach his brother. Kiyoomi took a few steps back from him to which he chuckled. He glared at his brother through his glasses, daring him to approach further. Daisuke's tied black curls swayed as he moves his head to face you, hands in either sides of his waist, his gown pushed back revealing his branded slacks and dress shirt. Yeah, Kiyoomi's a rougher version alright.

"Ah, thanks Y/n, but how did you do this?"

His soft and genuinely amused laughs filled the hallways, followed by Katana's. The other fellows, nurses and residents nearby turned to the sound. You mentally noted that if Kiyoomi hasn't been wearing his mask, you'll see how red his cheeks were. Daisuke and Katana are sure to know how to tease him. You pursed your lips, not knowing whether to laugh with them or sympathize with his agony.

"Rounds." It was dangerously low that it had stuttered Daisuke's laughs. Kiyoomi's head was facing you, dark eyes demanding.

"Rounds, Y/n? With Kiyo?" Katana asked with pure curiosity as she motioned herself closer to you, her eyes on Kiyoomi.

"Who's with Sara right now?"

"Toya."

"Yeah, we have to have dinner by 6:30pm so he can go home early." Both of your fellow doctors turned wide-eyed to you from what you have just said. You rolled your eyes at them. "You whined at Sir Kashi about me third-wheeling on your respective dates. Can't believe you."

The two are still dumbstruck when you turned to Kiyoomi who's getting grumpier by the second. "Let's go?" You, next, called out to the interns at the back of the nurse station. "Those who wants to come with me for reports, let's go."

Katana rushed to the nurse station and opened a drawer hastily and went back in a matter of seconds, handing something to Kiyoomi. You peered at her extended hand and found two cute plastic vials of sanitizers, to which he gladly accepted. You heard stories of Kiyoomi from his siblings and cousins and how he hates crowds so much, anti-social.. and a germaphobe. You were even surprised he followed you to your rounds.

"Take care of my brother, Y/n." You didn't miss the dazed and stuttering tone of Daisuke as he patted your shoulder. He also placed a hand on Kiyoomi's shoulder as the latter carefully lather some of the sanitizer in his hands and sniffed it. Daisuke gave a squeeze at his shoulder before patting it twice. "Kiyo."

The interns and a nurse came filing up behind you, ready for the rounds. You took the walk to the ward when Katana called out, "Kiyo, be kind, okay?" Kiyoomi grumbled at your side to which you giggled. He shot a glance at you and furrowed his brows. You playfully turned your eyes away from him and stuffed your hands on your gown's pockets.

"Dai? Dinner? Seriously?"

"Dad. It's Dad."

Kiyoomi felt like running when he first stepped into the first ward you picked to do your rounds. He overheard your conversation with the one girl intern that you have two patients here. He took a deep breath and followed you inside.

"Mommyy~ how's the stitches? Is it still painful and itchy? How are you feeling?"

"Jii-saaaan~ how is the therapy? Are your movements doing fine? No reactions?"

"Baby~" He heard you cooed at that one kid on the second ward you lot went in. You sat in his bed and carefully patted his head. "Why are you crying? Does it still hurt?"

Kiyoomi has to turn his eyes away from your figure and unintentionally coughed. He mumbled a low sorry, thankfully of which you didn't hear.

"Tall curly man." His eyes turned back to the crying kid. The kid's eyes were on Kiyoomi as you looked with him with soft eyes. Kiyoomi thought he might be 6 or 7 years old. So young to be in a hospital. His eyes steeled and cold as he remembered something of which he shouldn't.

"I'm gonna wait outside."

You looked at Kiyoomi with concern and nodded. "One more room upstairs and we're off." Kiyoomi nodded as he took the exit of the ward. He can still hear the kid's cries from here so he distanced himself more, enough that he can see you walk out of the room anytime.

The ride was silent. Very uncharacteristic of you. Kiyoomi was silent, well he always is. You wanna ask about that cough and walking out a while ago but you thought that he maybe just be too grossed out at the patients. You suddenly felt guilty of making him accompany you in your rounds. You bit your lip as your hand knuckled up on the stirring wheel.

You badly want to break silence so, "Where should we eat?"

"Wherever you wish."

You glanced at him and found him staring at the view of bustling nightlife of Tokyo. You sighed and drove to your med friends' go-to fine dining. Well, you're assuming Kiyoomi would like it considering he's from a well-off family.

He waited for you to round up to him from the driver's side, you fixing your blouse as you approach him. Kiyoomi never got a good look of you in the hospital but now, amidst the glowing dim light of the restaurant and the parking lot's lamp post nearby, he sees you clearly and radiantly. It took him over a minute to stop his intrusive thoughts while you were still fixing your blouse and hair, unaware of his eyes, and so he motioned to the entrance of the restaurant.

"You're not allergic to anything?" He shook his head in response as he opened the door for you, to which your brows perked for a millisecond.

You ordered directly after being seated. The modern Japanese style fine-dining restaurant that you're in has a romantic ambience. Candles are lit and it's a bit dark, with just a low and very dimly-lit chandelier on each section of the space. Your friends would often take you here when they have to have a relaxing dinner after a toxic shift. And it is relaxing. You wonder if Kiyoomi's feeling the same.

He's exuding a laid back expression with a glint of disapproval to the whole situation you're both in. You're not dumb as to not know what the Chairman wants to happen with the both of you. You sighed. Just try, huh. Okay.

"So, Kiyo" You started, and his eyes darted to you from his phone, the candle giving it an unfathomable impression. You gulped. "When's the start of the season?"

He sighed and his gaze fell back to his phone. "In three months."

"MSBY, right? Of Osaka?" He nodded, eyes still on his phone. You chewed your cheek as your lashes kept fluttering on his direction, brows visibly furrowed at his loss of interest.

"How's Inunaki?"

Kiyoomi's brows were the first to react. It shot up, dragging his eyes with it, and then his head till you have his full attention, phone already discarded at the table.

He obscurely coughed, "You know him?"

You nodded, remembering the days when you dated the sweet libero. He was cute, but then you broke up with him to focus on your profession. It was a clean break though. No more strings attached. You were just reminded by him because the gentleman right in front of you is on the same team as your ex-boyfriend.

Kiyoomi was running his tongue on the backs of his teeth as he studied your face. You knew their team's libero. And your facial expression now was just like when he saw you talking with Daisuke earlier.

"He's fine. He's staying with our captain in their house just off Kita District. He might be off to Osaka next week with him." You hummed softly and it sent shivers on him, it made his thighs pop anxiously underneath the table.

He knows what's happening. Fuck, he knows what's happening. Can't believe it's actually happening at this certain point in his life. He remembered those incessant talks with his friends on his volleyball batch, especially talks with Atsumu and Kenji. He tilted his head as he stares at the spot on the table directly in front of you, not daring to look you in the eye.

"Howー" He was cutted off when the food arrived at your table. Thankfully. He didn't know what's gotten into him that he was about to ask something he shouldn't. He bit his lip behind his mask as he watched the food getting arranged in the table.

You're still dazed at how Kiyoomi suddenly poured you a bit of his attention by just mentioning Shion when suddenly, he got rid of his mask so casually you didn't have time to brace yourself. You found yourself staring at his features as a whole. His nose perfectly fitted his handsome face, thin-lipped, smooth cheeks and sharp jawline. You found your eyes trailing to every nook of his face and found his eyes in the process, staring back at you.

"Wow. You're handsomer without the mask, Kiyo."

Kiyoomi raised a brow as he placed a plate full of sushi and sashimi in front of you. "And you're saying that so casually, thanks." You didn't miss the little quiver of his bottom lip as he spoke, red ears still evident within the orange light from the candles.

You smiled while prepping your chopsticks. "Well, we're already grown-ups so no need to shy away about saying those kind of things." You trailed your eyes at his face, now focused on what dish to try first. But no, Kiyoomi's attention is on your voice. He's desperately trying to act normal, and yes, controlling himself and his tongue.

"Try the sashimi first, they taste good. Or do the Gyoza." You suggested and he picked the sashimi first, nodding as the dish reached his tongue. You have to distract yourself with eating your own food served in front of you.

The dinner was fine, casual queries and talks were exchanged but you concluded that someone not daring enough can't get any info out of Kiyoomi. And you're not daring enough. All queries were just public info, you-can-know stuffs.

You stared at the mirror of the restroom after you briefly excused yourself after taking two glasses of wine just to get out of that situation. You're questioning yourself, and can't believe you're feeling insecure with how you look. You fixed your hair, your lip tint. Are you that old for Kiyoomi? Are you not pretty for him?

You groaned as you repeatedly muttered, "Just try. If it doesn't work, then okay. It's okay." You exited that restroom with a newfound determination.

"Shall we go? Dai-nii said you both have to prepare for a surgery 6 hours prior." You stuttered as it was the first sentence Kiyoomi gave you after you sat back from the restroom. You whisked your wrist for your watch and rolled your eyes. It's still 7:30pm, the surgery is 5am. Seriously, Daisuke?

Grumpiness sat in you as you drove back to the hospital, still basking on Kiyoomi's silence. Or which you thought.

"Can we go to your favorite alley of yakitori?" Your wide-eyed gaze found his popping thighs and you didn't dare to look further to his face. But he noticed your surprised expression to which he turned away with a steeled expression and a click out of his tongue.

Why is he frustrated? He can't be that frustrated. He doesn't care about you. He closed his eyes for the rest of the ride.

"Kiyo, what are we doing here?"

He just hummed as he collect himself out of your car and out to the alley, clearly looking for a certain stall, his mask already back on his face, sanitized hands on his pockets. You scampered after him to which he sighed and turned back to you. He saw you still taking a few steps closer to him as you fixed your hair and glistening eyes locking to a stall farther back. He can't miss the brief parting of your lips and a bob on your throat. He followed your gaze and briskly walked to that direction.

"Hey! Wait!"

Where are you dining? She likes the yakitori on her favorite streetfood alley.

Kiyoomi, she has to prepare for our surgery 6 hours prior. Take her back to the hospital right after dinner.

Where are you now? Are you on your way back? Don't reply if you're driving. Be careful.

Daisuke's texts kept ringing on his ears as he heaves two trays full of yakitori, with you following him in bewilderment. You both were walking to the previous nurse station Kiyoomi saw his brother. And he's really there now and waiting. Kiyoomi furrowed his brows as he saw his brother perked up on your sight.

Kiyoomi was silent as he placed the trays on the station and informing them that it's on the house. He quickly took the paperbag with some yakitoris too and handed it to you, ignoring the stares of Daisuke on his side.

"Kiー"

"You shouldn't be considerate with others when we say Wherever you want. It was supposed to be your choice." You were startled when he said that to your face, the others hearing it. "Anyways, thanks for driving and for the dinner."

Your jaw dropped, cheeks burning, as your eyes followed his hovering figure walking away from you. Kiyoomi was clearly annoyed with whatever and you had no idea why that is. You turned to face Daisuke who was already staring at you, and he huffed, big strides following Kiyoomi.

"Doc Dai was already frustrated with something, Doc Y/n."

You turned to the nurse who spoke, gesturing her to go on with what's she's saying. "Maybe something about his dad?"

Hm. Maybe because of the run-down of the department's allowance., you thought as you ran your fingers through the paperbag with five yakitoris. You smiled at the thought of Kiyoomi. Well, he can be sweet while being grumpy and mean.

"Kiyo!"

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes as he detestfully punched in the buttons of the elevator. He quickly pulled out the sanitizer Katana gave her and lather some on his hands. Daisuke found his space on his brother's side, huffing whileーKiyoomi doesn't knowーlooking so annoyed with something? He smirked.

"You didn't go eat at her favorite stall?" Daisuke asked as the elevator dinged and opened for the both of the men. Thankfully, it's empty so they piled in.

"We're already eating when you texted." Kiyoomi deadpanned, just staring at the elevator door while his brother's body is on his direction, eyes somewhat blazing with whatever. Kiyoomi's not dumb, and he's mad at it.

"And you bought her yakitori after the dinner? What's with the trays?"

"For you, guys. Trying to be friendly, considering Katana-nee-san asked me to be kind."

He walked out of the elevator as soon as it reached the basement parking lot of the hospital building, Daisuke following behind with more questions he's not gonna answer due to an impending blow on his part that he's afraid to burst.

"It just took a few hours for you huh."

Kiyoomi faced his brother, full height and pride seeping through his veins, face scrunched up with his now discarded mask tucked on his chin.

"Dai. Nii. Chan. Why are you dating someone else when you're clearly in love with her?" There goes the blow.

When Daisuke didn't answer because of utter shock, Kiyoomi dragged his feet to his car far out left of the parking lot leaving his brother behind and frozen.

But he didn't know why he found himself on the same hospital again a week after that fateful one-time dinner. His fingers are tapping on his steering wheel as he was parking. His niece mused as how she's going to see Daisuke and Katana, Motoya cradling her in the passenger seat. No one knew of the conversation he had with Daisuke, and Daisuke hadn't been talking to him the past week, clearly left unguarded with Kiyoomi's blow. Irritating. As irritating as how you got stuck in his mind since that dinner night.

"Yoomi!" Sara leaned to Kiyoomi as they got out of the car. Kiyoomi carried her in one arm and eyed Motoya for her orange mask.

"Matchy." Motoya snickered as he hooked Sara's mask on her ears and quickly got his phone to take a picture of his grumpy cousin and Sara, both wearing orange kiddie masks. Motoya was surprised when Kiyoomi kissed Sara's head through his mask, completely ready for the shot. And he might've sent it to their GC, or maybe even posted online that you'll be seeing a few hours later and keel about.

Sara is loved by many nurses and doctors in the hospital for her talkativeness and cuteness, their future cutie doctor. But you gravely prayed she'll never be like her uncle Kiyoomi that yes, a kind gentleman but also and absolutely yes to being rude and grumpy.

Your irises immediately dilated when you saw her in Kiyoomi's arm, and how cute of Sara to make Kiyoomi wear her signature orange stuffs. You chuckled at the thought as you approached them.

"Ah, Y/n-san!" You ruffled Motoya's hair as you saw him bounding past Kiyoomi with Sara's orange bag.

"Y/n-chaan~" Sara mused as she leaned for you to carry her. But Kiyoomi held her away from you.

"She still has germs, Sara." Eventhough it was a mumble, you can't help but to hear it considering the distance between you. "Later, okay?" Kiyoomi kissed Sara's cheek still with mask on.

Sara lovingly put her hand on Kiyoomi's cheek, nudging the bottom of his glasses up, "But I like her, Yoomi. Won't care if she has germs or none. You shouldn't too. You like her, right?"

Motoya snorted at your back, while you and Kiyoomi unmistakenly blushed at Sara's words.

"Baby, Iー" Kiyoomi glanced at you, your hand on your mouth and face still burning, eyes still wide on him from shock. "I don't.. like.. her."

Kiyoomi's words rang in your ears and it has been an hour since then. You're in the middle of your rounds, clearly distracted that she had to let the interns take notes of what she said and had to read them afterwards for double checking. You tilted your head to let the thought die, and ran your fingers through your hair.

You jumped at a low cough on your side, and your head turned to face Kiyoomi, head low and fiddling fingers together, eyes unfocused. "Yes, Kiyoomi?"

His eyes shot at you on his name, uncomfortable without the nickname you once gave him. And you didn't know why, searching on your depths why didn't you used that. He'll probably worry about that, but very unlikely. He doesn't like you.

"Sara wants you to be with us out for dinner."

"Okay." You nodded in a heartbeat still wondering why doesn't he like you.

And Kiyoomi is uncomfortable with the looks you're giving him as you walk with him, Sara still in his arms refusing to walk because of her uncle's big paces. She is still talking with you and you converse with her, your eyes still burning on Kiyoomi from time to time. And Kiyoomi doesn't like how out-of-place is he with the little girl talk.

You rode passenger in his car, Sara on your lap after Kiyoomi told you it's now okay. But on what grounds are you okay? You can't understand that side of him, and you want to ask him to understand. You want to understand him. You want to understand whyー

You shifted on your seat, arms wrapping on Sara's little waist as she sings songs from Kiyoomi's nursery rhymes, and you sang with her too through the familiar lyrics. And it was proper music for Kiyoomi and he scoffed inaudibly, so amused with the scene he wished he can record it.

His mind was unintentionally wandering far off the future, where you could be with your own little girl in your lap, still with him in the driver's seat, both of you all dressed up according to the little girl's wishes. And it will be blissful and peaceful and no Daiー

He felt himself knuckled up at his steering wheel and you took notice, stammering mid-singing, thinking he doesn't want you singing, thinking how bad your voice is. You gulped hard, eyes straight to the dash and onto the highway he's cruising through.

"Don't you want me here, Kiyoomi?" You tilted your head, chin resting on your palms as Kiyoomi's eyes were on his niece playing on the makeshift playground of the kiddie fastfood chain. Kids on her age are there too. Ugh germs. He might want Sara to take a bath when they get home later.

It's Kiyo for you, Y/n. It's Kiyo. He wanted to say that he caught himself. He doesn't want to be misunderstood, though he himself doesn't understand himself either.

"Motoya's with Dad on a business meeting about his share. And I'm sorry if I can't stop Sara from whining for you to go with us." You hummed and his thigh started popping anxiously at instinct to the sound.

"Kiyoomi. Look at me for a second." Why do you want him to look at you? Why are you even asking him to look at you? His thoughts were battling inside his head and he willfully silenced it just for a moment, and without a thought, looked at you straight to your dilated orbs. He never found such beautiful eyes like yours, beautiful orbs beyond those long lashes. He blinked.

"Why?"

"Oh, nothing." You smiled and you found what you were looking for. A deductive confirmation, an incomplete assessment to whatever situation you have with him. You suddenly wanna go back to the hospital, or just anywhere away from his scalding gaze also searching.

The food was already served when Sara got back from the indoor playground, already holding her mask out of her face like Kiyoomi now. Kiyoomi turned her little figure around and got her scrunchie to tie her long big-curled black hair. And you reveled at the sight.

"D'you want me to feed you or you wanna be a big girl for today?"

"With Y/n-chan, Yoomi."

You felt like your heart skipped a beat when Sara lipped on your direction. Oh how cute is she, a bead of sweat still trickles down her temple and forehead. You reached for her hand and sat her on your lap to which she happily obliged, swaying her legs against yours as she smiles to her uncle across the table.

"Her towel, Yoomi." You deadpanned at Kiyoomi, trying hard not to smile when you imitated Sara's nickname for him, trying hard not to smile when you saw him blush upon hearing it slip out of your lips. And he tried too hard not to dwell on it. Try harder, Kiyoomi.

"Baby, you have to feed yourself because she also has to eat, okay?"

"But I want to be fed by Y/n-chan, Yoomi." Sara's pouts were Kiyoomi's weakness. He closed his eyes in exasperation, keeping in mind that he is the adult here and with the authority.

"Yeah, Yoomi, I can feed her while eating just fine. Let's eat."

And you tried your hardest too, to make it sound so natural and not veiled with awkwardness. And Kiyoomi regretted finding that Kiyo on you earlier that day. This is way worst than it, this will drive him to his grave. He bit his lip in annoyance to his giddiness.

The dinner with Sara went fine with you feeding her. Kiyoomi helped through the process, feeding her alternately while you eat, too. And maybe a bit too awkward, because some eyes inside the food chain were on you three, murmuring about how good-looking of a family you are with Kiyoomi and Sara. You should put some blush-on next time when you're with him, just to hide the natural blush you had been wearing throughout the time.

"Thank you for your time, Y/n."

"Anytime." You winked at him and debated with yourself between saying more, or just go straight to anywhere away from him. That was enough indulgence for today for Kiyoomi doesn't like you. You have to remind yourself.

But you softly patted the head of the sleeping figure in Kiyoomi's arms, and Kiyoomi stiffened on the closeness. He can smell your fragrance and something else. He nibbled his cheek and turned his eyes straight, to where he found Daisuke staring at them, smiling. Kiyoomi was confused for a moment.

"Take her home now. Drive safely, Yoomi." You patted his wide and bulky shoulder softly, trying not to wake Sara up. Kiyoomi hummed as he stared back on his brother, clearly pertrubed over something in his mind he dare not say. And you were oblivious of the tension. He's so glad you were.

You waved Kiyoomi bye and went to Daisuke, slithering your body towards him before grasping both his cheeks with one hand. All the while, Daisuke was still smiling to Kiyoomi before he dropped his eyes on you and messed your hair. Kiyoomi had to quickly turn away and go straight home, also oblivious that the following morning will change the course of the situation.

You were pacing back and forth outside the halls for the doctors' offices, a hard flush on your cheeks visible. Kiyoomi had asked you out of nowhere for a lunch date of sorts.

These past two months was too confusing for you. Because the Kiyoomi that doesn't like you keep poking out of nowhere, taking a portion of your time of day. May it be another dinner with Sara, or just with him, or being with you on your rounds, recently and suprisingly mask down and talking with your patients. He may have even memorized your sched like the back of his hand for the untimely timing of his visits.

These past two months was like a typhoon for you. Kiyoomi was the typhoon. And you can't brace yourself enough. Maybe because you were used to him being rude and grumpy, well, he still is, but something changed in him.

"Good luck, Y/n. HAHAHA!"

Motoya replied once when you asked him about why Kiyoomi was doing things he usually won't do. What's the good luck for? The toothpaste in the tube had bursted out and grimed on your fingers in annoyance to Motoya's reply.

"No comment LOL!"

And Daisuke, too. He's becoming normal for youーin a sense that he won't joke about his feelings for you anymore, or he isn't as clingy as before, and less time with you. You remembered pouting when you read his reply after you asked him too about Kiyoomi's actions, and that you threw your phone across your bed in frustration.

But now, you were smiling calmly in the back of your mind, reminding yourself that Kiyoomi doesn't like you. Yeah, he doesn't like you.

"Okay. Pick me up? Text me if you're here already."

"Can we take pictures Y/n?"

Like hell. You tried not to notice him taking stolen pictures of you when you're not looking. But never with him. You nodded and took his phone and snapped a pic with himーor maybe four with wacky poses. A nurse also took one with you on your scrub suit and gown, his hand surprisingly ghosting on your waist to which you nearly flinched.

"What's with the pictures?" You asked him during your lunch with him in your favorite yakitori stall.

"I'm going back to Osaka this weekend. Leagues are in a month and we still have to condition ourselves." You poked on your katsudon as you pouted on his answer.

"Had to show how you are doing to Inunaki-san. You're friends, right?"

He placed a slice of meat on your bowl that you acknowledged by placing a yakitori on his plate. You hummed at his statement, to which his thighs popped and you placed a hand on it to relax him and grinned, a habit you have when you hummed and he'll grow anxious by it. You tapped his thigh once before continuing on your meal.

"You're going back to Osaka. Can I come see your games some time if I'm free?" You're pushing your luck, no way he'll agree toー

"Sure. Any vacant time. Just be sure it'll not disrupt your shifts. I'll text you the time and venues of every game we'll have 3 days prior."

You smiled through kneading with your food with your chopsticks. "Glad to hear." And maybe you should know sometime soon, that even if moments like these are to be captured, it won't do any justice to Kiyoomi.

"Can I go see you off this weekend then?"

Both of you are already back from the lunch date when you asked him. He's still sipping from his milktea, one hand on the plastic with 2 large trays of yakitori, biceps flexing against his fitted black shirt, his jacket discarded on his car. You're also carrying two batch containers of milktea, all for the residents and nurses in the station.

"No. I might not be present in the games if you do see me off."

It is still the Kiyoomi that doesn't like you.

"See you soon." And your heart skipped a beatーokay, maybe twoー when he leaned in to kiss your forehead swiftly as he can to put his mask back on to conceal his reddening cheeks.

You tried to stay calm as you smiled at him. "Take care, Yoomi."

He hummed and patted your head. "I'll come see you soon."

And before you even realized it, he's walking away from you, and it might hurt just one bit of this figure of him being away. You pursed your lips as your mind registered what had happened. But you rolled your eyes as you were not the first one to reactーmore like, squeal.

"Stop it, Katana-nee!" You can't help but giggle as more of the nurses joined Katana's teasing and squealing. "Yoomi doesn't like me."

Katana scoffed mid-giggling. "What nonsense is that? He clearly likes you, Y/n!"

"He said so himself." You shrugged, still smiling as you took a sip of the milktea you and Kiyoomi bought.

"And you?" Your eyes darted to her, Katana's scrutinizing gaze boring at you. "How are you feeling about this?"

You stared at her, fumbling with your thoughts in your mind on how to answer that that it won't be misunderstood. Though, one phrase stood out. You bit your lip and hang your head low, fiddled with the straw of your milktea.

"I don't want to fall in love alone, Nee-san."

"Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium. Nov 24, 5:30pm. Let me know if you could come so I can reserve you a seat near the court."

You smiled, staring at his text from 3 days ago. You have replied then, even videocalled him after that, and the day after, like the ones you had a few weeks ago whenever he was free, or when you are free. It has been barely two months and the leagues has already started last month. You had watched his matches that you can't see live on your phone, or on Youtube. And you call each other at the end of each game, just talking about anything like how was the day going for both of you, or how was the game,or how did you enjoy watching him play. You smiled at how he wants you to be involved in his field of interest. But Y/n, he doesn't like you.

"Y/n, Chairman called for you in his office."

You turned to face Doc Akaashi and his hoarse voice. Your brows furrowed at it. "You okay, Doc?"

"I'm okay. Just stressed with my son."

"Oooh, Keiji?"

He nodded, running a hand on the back of his neck. "Yeah, but he's okay now, thanks to his friendsーyour Yoomi included." He snorted at his tease. You pouted as he patted your shoulder and walked away after gesturing you to the Chairman's office.

You checked the timeーstill 9:30amーwhile walking through the long hallway to the Chairman's office. You still have to pick up Sara by 3pm because she has literally begged you yesterday to take her to her Jii-chan Yoomi's games. And it will be a secret, she said. You chuckled at the thought of her. That kid really adores Kiyoomi.

You knocked before going into the office. You were entranced by a golden haired young man with glasses and a dark-grayish green haired young man on the couch, sitting and looking at you walking in the room.

"ーCoz Doc, I can't."

You turned to the Chairman's direction and you saw a golden-haired young lady sitting in front of the Chairman and rambling about something. Is she a patient?

"Sit first, Y/n." You heard the chairman as he paused to look at you, with the golden-haired lady's eyes on you too. She smiled at you briefly and turned again to the Chairman. You sat down across the men, well as you look closely they might still be in highschool. They're just tall-lookingーor really maybe tall.

"I am okay, really."

The golden haired boy snorted. "Doc, she slapped someone real hard hardly two hours ago. Twice."

The girl turned to the direction of the boy who spoke. "Shut up, Kei! She needs it! Who would wake her up other than her bestest girl-friend she'll ever have, huh?"

"You hate her." It was the other boy now that had spoken, and you were out of place already, trying to understand the situation.

She pouted, "I don't, and she knows it."

"Okay. Okay, Ran. Just do the oximeter for now. Will that calm you three?"

The Chairman took the pulse oximeter and latched it on Ran(?)'s pointer finger. And you had no idea why you're here. You leaned back on the couch while waiting for anything.

"I told you to just stay at Fukurodani while we send them off! Now Aki-nii knew about this!"

"And who texted him huh? Was itー"

And the unspeakable happen. The door of the office bursted open and you might've been excited for this for months now, but no. He stormed to Ran and pulled her up to stand.

"I told you not to go here to see my dad!"

It was Kiyoomi, already in his jersey under his MSBY track jacket, his black eyes furious and mask disregarded somewhere in his pockets. It stirred something in you, of which you thought you won't feel towards him. It scared you.

"Omi-san!" Ran yelped at Kiyoomi's grip. And you felt concerned for her as you jumped up from the couch. You can see his grip digging on her flesh.

"Kiyoomi!" The Chairman had also risen up from his seat, trying to get in between the two.

"I told you, Ran, did I? I told you to go find another doctor to take you! I told you why!"

"Kiyoomi-san!"

"Ran!"

"Omi-san, it hurts!"

"Kiyoomi!"

And you saw it in his eyes that's not leaving Ran's, a flicker of concern as he saw tears trickling down from hers. "Leave. Now."

The amber-eyed boy collected Ran that's now glaring at Kiyoomi, still with tears in her eyes. "Hope you fall in your butt, Kiyoomi!" And she was dragged by her waist out of the office.

Kiyoomi snapped a look at the dazed face of the Chairman, and he groaned. "How could you do that to her?" The chairman whispered in his strangled breaths.

"This is exactly why!"

"She did nothing to us! To you! To me!"

"SHE DID! She has her mother's face that you can't even forget after all these years!"

"It's..not her fault Kiyoomi.."

"Assign her to another doctor Dad, or I'll take the matters to my own hands."

"You know I can't."

Kiyoomi dialed in his phone and took a look at you, he sighed, just registering that you had witnessed something you shouldn't and he mouthed Sorry, to which you nodded, hesitant and still wide-eyed at the course of events happened in a matter of minutes.

"Daisuke. Where are you?ーCan you come up here at Dad's?ーYes, right now. ASAP."

It was achingly quiet for a few minutes when Daisuke barged in, breathless, still in his gown and a steth dangling around his neck. "Saw Ran-chan outside as I'm running up here. What happened?"

But Kiyoomi ignored him and turned to you. "Come with me, Y/n?" His voice is hoarse from yelling, but calmer now.

You followed his hurried paces and he was searching the halls of the hospital and you know who's he searching for. And you are, too. If Ran's a patient, then she should be in aー

Kiyoomi suddenly rushed to a nearby bench just off the indoor café of the hospital. There you saw three figures seating, the same people that are just in the office moments ago. Kiyoomi squatted in front of Ran and peeked on her face. She was doubled over on her knees, the two not daring to touch her. You decide to observe at a distance on earshot, but Kiyoomi looked back at you, wanting you near him, and you stood closer, a few steps away from the golden haired boy who bowed to acknowledge your presence.

"I'm sorry." Kiyoomi was about to touch Ran's head when the amber eyed boy on the other side of the bench cleared his throat.

"Don't touch her yet, Kiyoomi-san."

You saw Kiyoomi sheepishly smile at Ran when there's a slight movement of her head, and you heard Ran groan.

"Don't peekーDon't peek on me like that." A few struggled breaths from her and you hear an exasperated sigh from the golden haired boy beside you. "Up, Omi-san."

The golden-haired boy looked up at you. "Is she the one you're talking about Kiyoomi-san?" Kiyoomi hummed, now on his feet looking down at Ran's position. Are they talking about you? No way.

"Do you have a pulse oximeter? Chairman's was dropped in the office." The question disrupted your impending thoughts of how these boys knew about you. You have to ask Kiyoomi later.

You patted your pockets and thankfully, you have one. It was the hospital's protocol though, for doctors and nurses to bring an oximeter everywhere within the vicinity.

"She's still in high-sensitivity. Hold it first, Kei."

There was silence after, except for Ran's groans and whimpers from time to time. You stared at Kiyoomi that was statue-like, staring at Ran's figure on the bench. A few wild assumptions came to mind at his actions, and how this day showed you another side, well two, of Kiyoomi. You tilted your head as he huffed and looked at you, a silent apology on his eyes. You smiled at him, reassuring him anything you can offer to him eventhough you're unsure of yourself too.

"Told you I can't pick another doctor other than your Dad, Omi-san. I warned you." Ran's eyes were full of fury you can't help but to turn away and flash a grin on the wall.

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes upon hearing her words. "Told you you have to do plastic surgery or something. I hate your face."

"I know I'm pretty." And Ran happened to glance at you and almost immediately, wide-eyed and rounded her lips in surprise, much to your confusion. "And she's prettier up close, Omi-san!"

"Thank you?" You raised a brow at Kiyoomi while you feel your cheeks burn on the compliment, to which he groaned, pulling his phone from his pocket. "Umー"

"I'm Tadashi. This is Ran and Kei. Nice to finally meet you, Y/n-san." Your eyes flew from Kiyoomi to the amber eyed boy that's now standing and bowing briefly to you, flickering a teasing gaze on Kiyoomi. Your confusion grew more, it's achingly pressed to your bones.

"Stop it, Tadashi." Kiyoomi snapped at Tadashi who just grinned and took back his seat.

Ran groaned. "Please don't make me laugh." And to which Tadashi and Kei laughed.

You saw Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, cheeks were also beet red as he turned to you, and you giddily smiled back at him. "Are you still watching the game later?"

"I still can't move. Please, Omi-san, go flirt with her somewhere else, far enough that I can't hear."

"I really want to throw you off the grid, Ran." Kiyoomi deadpanned and you wanna laugh hard at it. Kiyoomi's gonna flirt with who now?

"Thankful that you love me." Ran paused and winked at you. "As a friend, Y/n-san. This irritating guy is all yours."

"You shouldn't tease Kiyoomi-san like that, Ran."

"Whyyy? That's called revenge!"

"But Kiyoomi-san's less grumpy around her, don't you think Kei?"

"Stop it. Don't make me laugh."

All your senses came back when you heard Kiyoomi unintelligently mumbled in his breaths, still in the moment where he's dragging you away from the teasing trio. You finally became aware that every pair of eyes across the lobby, and that those eyes were staring at both of you. You nibbled at your lip as you also became aware of his strong hands gentle but tugging at your wrist to somewhere. You can't help but smile as you fixed your eyes on his curly black hair, swaying as he bounds to the direction of the ER, not surprised that Kiyoomi knows where you have your shift in this time of this specific day of the week.

"You'll flirt with me in the ER, Yoomーah!" You bumped into his shoulder as he halted suddenly, a hall away from the doors of the ER. He turned to you, surprisingly still blushing. "Geez, Yoomi." You half-heartedly took back your tease as you brushed your hand on the spot where his shoulder made contact on your head.

"Yーyou're still coming to the game later, right?" His eyes were unfocused, darting anywhere but in your direction and you find it too cute and amusing.

You hummed, placed both your hands on his shoulders as you tiptoed to kiss his red cheek. "Won't miss it this time. See you later okay?"

You slid a hand on his chest to tap it twice against his MSBY jersey and went off to the ER, grinning at your action and to Kiyoomi's reaction. Flirting with a Kiyoomi that doesn't like you feels like you were shot to as far as Jupiter, far past the clouds.

But you thought you knew what you did to Kiyoomi. You have no idea. As he watches your gown getting winded up as you walked to the doors of the ER after you kissed his burning cheek, he stopped breathing for a moment, replaying the moment in his mind numerous times for a short while. He leaned back on the wall as he catch his breath, licking his dry lips.

"Want a check-up, lovestruck man?" He turned to his smug brother smirking in front of him.

"You already diagnosed me two months ago. Don't need a check-up." Daisuke laughed as he remembered what he said to Kiyoomi months ago.

"Kiyo, okay, listen."

"No."

"Listen, please."

Kiyoomi paused halfway the stairs to their rooms. He sighed and waited for Daisuke to speak up.

"I loved her. Before. Yes. But it doesn't matter now, is it?"

"I don't wanna date someone you loved, Daisuke."

"But you're already falling for her." That surprised Kiyo to the bone. How could Daisuke say things like that so casually? And no, he's not in love with you.

"Don't deny it. I hereby diagnose you as that. And please, don't be considerate of me. Go move on her if you want to. I will support you."

"Y/n-chaan~ Yoomi?" You looked down at Sara that's tightly gripping your hand, afraid to get lost in the crowd of Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium. She's wearing Kiyoomi's merch jersey as you were wearing his jersey too, but not from the merch store. You blushed again behind your orange mask at the thought.

"Want me to carry you, Sara-chan?" She nodded, her curls bobbing with her head as she goes. You picked her up and realized she's not that heavy as you gripped her up around her orange shorts. "Yoomi's somewhere inside. Let's go find him."

But you didn't find him, instead you found someone else.

"Oh. So it's true." You turned to face Inunaki Shion and you smiled at him. "Sakusa Kiyoomi, huh?" You felt Sara squirmed in your arms to face the stranger in front of you.

"I'm Sakusa Sara, nice to meet you sir."

"You already have a kid with him?" Huh?

"What business do you have with my mommy, sir?"

"IーHuh?"

Shion was also as wide eyed and stuttering as you, him, clearly assuming something, and you, clearly confused and surprised with Sara's words. You were about to clear things with him when Shion's eyes fell somewhere far on your back.

You turned to that direction and there, you saw Kiyoomi taking big paces towards you. Sara squealed but your attention was on Kiyoomi and his intense gaze on you.

"Yoomi."

"Sara, close your eyes."

"Haiii~"

You didn't notice the way Sara grinned while closing her eyes, to the way the crowd turned their attention on the three of you, and to how the voices muffled, making it seem like it was buried away deep below.

One thing that you were sure was happening was this: Kiyoomi's hands cupping your cheeks and leaning his face towards yours, staring at your dilated orbs and smiled before tilting his head and closing the gap of his lips and yours.

You had to close your eyes because of the intense feeling he's giving you, kissing him back with equal fervor, too frustrated you can't wrap your arms around his neck so you tightly cradled Sara's waist instead, and still too dumbstruck of why Kiyoomi is kissing you right now.

He leaned his forehead on yours, giving you both chances to catch your breaths. You smiled at him, about to ask him the question when, "Can you be my girlfriend, Y/n?"

And you chuckled at the question that confirmed your past deduction.

"But, Yoomi, Dai said you have to ask first before kissing." And you can't help but laugh at how Sara responded for you, you kissed her cheek in adoration.

"What she said, Yoomi."

"Is it always like that?" He pouted as you turned around to Shion, giving Sara to him to which the little girl understood and even gave you a thumbs-up.

Kiyoomi was baffled at how Shion carried Sara and was about to retort when you pulled him into you and kissed him again, this time wrapping your arms in his neck, him hugging you close by your waist and kissing you back.

And yeah, maybe it's true that Kiyoomi doesn't like you.

Because he was already truly, madly, and deeply in love with you.

"You don't have a girlfriend, sir."

"I will have soon, you know. Behave before I put you down and leave you."

"Should we stop them? The warm-ups will start at 5 minutes."

"Oh, don't be an ass, Meian."

"Someone take a picture of them."

"I feel so single."

Semi Eita | Sugawara Koushi | Kuroo Tetsurou | Akaashi Keiji | Kageyama Tobio | Oikawa Tooru | Miya Osamu

@rudecopper on twt for the icon

Reblogs and interactions are appreciated. Theories will be entertained. Cassie 2023.

[andmaybegayer]

After I deleted a bunch of projects (thankfully non-critical, though representing a great deal of work in total) during a recent fresh OS install, I realized that my backup practices are practically non-existent. Any tips or sources on getting started making, and eventually automating, effective backups?

I am stealing the concept here from jwz's backup guide, but I am recommending different tools, focusing on personal files only, and also addressing Windows. jwz's guide is a good reference:

Doing a way, way better job than most people of backing up one single system is very easy. Let us begin.

The most basic step of having decent backups is getting your hands on two external hard drives at least big enough to hold your entire system, and putting a label on them that says "BACKUP ONLY DO NOT USE FOR ANYTHING ELSE I AM BEING FOR REAL HERE"

Once you've got those, plug one into your system wherever it spends the most time. If you have a desktop then that's solved, if it's a laptop hopefully you already have a USB hub you plug it into when you sit down to work or whatever and you can just leave it there.

Now set up regular scheduled backups to that device. On Windows and Mac, there's a built in tool for backing up your system to an external drive. We'll assume that you just want to back up your user files on Windows and Linux, since doing full system backups isn't tricky but is kind of unnecessary.

(Ugh. Windows seems to be trying to phase out Windows Backup and Restore in favour of their File History thing. That's annoying, let me log in to windows and check how this actually works. Mac in the meantime)

Mac has Time Machine. Time Machine is extremely good, and you can tell Time Machine to save its backups to a disk. Point Time Machine at your external hard drive and tell it to schedule a backup however frequently you want. If anything goes wrong in the future, you can ask Time Machine to look at that backup disk and it'll show you a few versions of whatever you backed up there. I'm not a Mac user but I think you can even use Time Machine to transfer between an old computer and a new one.

Windows now has File History which I have never used in my life, they added it after I stopped using Windows. Same idea though, pick some folders and back them up to an external storage device. If anything goes wrong, use File History to go back through that device and find the version of the file you wanted. I don't know if there's still a way to access the older Backup and Restore system.

On Linux, my favoured way to manage simple desktop backups is Deja Dup, a GUI for Duplicity. Duplicity can do a lot more than just backup to a disk, but we'll start there. Install Deja Dup, open it up, and follow the prompts to back up your user files to the external drive. Deja Dup can also do backups to remote storage servers, Google Drive/Onedrive, and commercial storage providers like Amazon and Backblaze. It will even encrypt your backups if you are worried about Amazon spying on your files or whatever. If something goes wrong, point Deja Dup at your backup drive and it will offer you a suite of restore options covering a few versions.

Now, you have a permanently plugged in hard drive that will always get rolling backups you can restore from. These aren't safe from, say, ransomware, or your house burning down, but at least you won't lose anything when you update a computer or accidentally delete something and have an ohshit moment.

Now you take that other drive you bought, and do the same backup you're already doing to that. Now you go put it somewhere else where it's readily accessible and won't be accidentally used for anything, keep it at the office, give it to your dad, whatever. Set a reminder on your phone for once a month. Once a month, go get that drive, run another backup, and put it back. You now have better backups than many medium sized businesses.

This is impractical to scale beyond one PC, but if we're being honest even when I had like half a dozen laptops, only one contained much of value. Back up the system you care about.

Don't worry too much about making sure your backups are space efficient, like, yeah it would be a good idea to exclude game installs and stuff from your backups to save space but if that sounds daunting or time consuming literally do not do it. Decision paralysis is brain poison, just back it up and sort it out later. 2TB external hard drives are cheap.

FURTHER STEPS YOU CAN TAKE:

Easy Cloud backup: Backblaze personal backup on Windows and Mac is $6/month and pretty easy to use. If you are struggling to keep track of a monthly remote backup, or you want an easy remote backup. Backblaze is a reasonably reliable company and one of the Go To Companies in the world of data reliability. Yes, it's a cloud subscription. If you don't want that don't use it.

Network backup: If you have access to a storage server, that can be a good way to make a remote backup without having to shuttle disks around. That could be a physical server if you maintain some kind of lab, or it could be a cloud storage provider like Backblaze B2 or Onedrive or whatever. Deja Dup specifically supports backing up to a lot of different network storage providers, and even if you only have a fifty or sixty gigabytes of network storage on hand, your most essential personal files can probably fit in there.

Drive failures: Eventually one of your drives will fail, either your storage drive or your backup drive. If the storage drive fails, well, that's what the backup is for, go get a replacement and restore from the backup. If your backup drive fails, well, that's why you have two of them. As soon as humanly possible go get a replacement drive, and substitute it in for the dead one.

[maksplaygroundsims2]

Next Year

I don't generally post a lot about myself on a personal level here on this blog...but if you've watched any of my youtube videos in the past or watched a livestream or two, you know I do talk about stuff often enough with what's sorta going on in my life at the time. I made a video three years ago about my health situation where I shared that I went into kidney failure due to my type 1 diabetes and I started dialysis which was leading me to get onto the transplant list for a kidney and pancreas. Well, as I said that video was made 3 years ago... I know I should probably sit down and make a new one updating people with what's going on but I haven't gotten around to doing so. I got some news last Friday that I have been officially listed on the transplant list. I'm a serious mix of emotions when it comes to this huge life altering surgery. One of the hardest things that I've struggled with regarding this whole situation is having to swallow the fact that my life will NEVER be the same after this. I will always be on anti-rejection meds which come with a HOST of horrible side affects that I will have to get used to for the rest of my life (i'm only 32.), my immune system will be severely compromised because of said medication, and I may have to accept that I can never have biological children. The thing is, this surgery can happen at RANDOM, I can get this call any time of day or night and I will have to pack up and get in the car for a 6-8hr drive to the hospital that I am receiving this surgery, and then for the next three months I will be there in that city because of the weekly blood work and med adjustments they will have to do. Because I have been on dialysis for three years and because it's two organs, it bumps me up on the list a lot, which means I just don't know when the call is going to happen, and that by itself is setting my anxiety off whenever I think about it too much. I'm not entirely sure what the point of this post is for, however I just want people to know that I do have plans to start making content on youtube once I get Linux on my desktop gaming pc, as it sims to be one of the only ways I'll be able to play my game without ridiculous crashing or pink soup and my bestfriend is coming in the next week to help me with it because he's a linux expert and I'm going to do a test run on an old laptop. But once that is cleared up I plan to get back to content and streaming.

I also landed myself a job in my field of study(social work), It's only 1-2 shifts a week and it's a work from home job and I officially start in January, but, this whole being listed sorta throws a wrench in both the job plans and the content plans because I know it will be some time till I'm back on my feet.. apparently it takes about a year for everything to get to some sort of normalcy. I wanted to post that here because I do have quite a few followers here that do interact with a lot of my sims posts, so I did want to give a heads up, that if I just randomly stop posting, it's not because I've forgotten this blog. I love this blog, it means a lot to me and the people who interact with my posts and reblog my reblogs, like my posts, and interact with me, mean a lot. I hope you all have a SAFE and great Holiday and New year if you celebrate! Take care of yourselves, and your loved ones!! 💚💚💚💚💚

[kalianos]

It is a little past midnight. Have brainworms.

god I remember when windows 8 came out, immediately bought and installed it to troubleshoot Intuit Pro-Series. I was a chaotic force for good in some weird ways back then. Also Ironically working for Intuit was the first time I stopped hanging out in online spaces. ANYWAY!

Higher level techs were spreading the word that neither program would work on it. ProSeries and Lacerte (Corpo Tax Software) weren't built to handle Mobile Tablets. Day 1 of tax season that year and I had to walk a tax preparer installing pro-series on a windows tablet.

The Higher tech was confused as hell how I did it....apparently they couldn't understand how windows would just interpret the finger touch press as a mouse click. Now to right click, that was moon magic to me back then. Though I think they just wanted a mobile way to make tax sheets and input data then just slam it over to their desktop in the office/at home. You would be amazed how many people had this tax preparer software on their home computers. Hell I remember someone who had this expensive stuff and bought it every year just to do their own taxes and some of their friends.

Also obligatory, fuck Intuit. Never use Turbotax or H&R block to file what can be done for free. I gave away so much free stuff when I was in Turbotax even though I knew they were doing it on purpose to bait people to stay in their ecosystem before they "shut down" our ability to give out stuff for free. You can only word things in so many ways to avoid getting nabbed by the monitor police.

:V Call centers man, we had a department in one corner of this open office floor plan dedicated to monitoring us, recording our calls, and making notes on anything we did.

Randomly remembered this when someone was bringing up how Windows 11 wasn't the worst Windows OS and people were jumping on how Windows 8 was terrible and windows vista doesn't work on low powered systems. (Hey! Let's ship an OS that works best at minimum 2gb of ram! On systems that barely had 512mb! Because that was listed minimum spec. What Could Go Wrong?)

Double fun irony. That call center job was how I ended up making friends, learning more social skills, accidentally stealing someone else's girlfriend by being more outgoing and out there. Discovering the joy of dating someone who used to be a runway model and artist in new york who was more than a little obsessed with sucking dick. Older women man...definitely confirmed.

The downsides of having said person be your girlfriend when you are an immature little shit of a man and there was a good....seven year gap I think in our ages? Then again she was on Instagram constantly after me with a new guy on her shoulder every month after that...so minor gold star for being the longest relationship?

AAaaaaaaaaand figuring out the age old problem of "YOU SHOULD NEVER ROOM WITH SOMEONE YOU WERE FRIENDS WITH IN HIGH SCHOOL" due to the whole....situation that made my last year of freedom a descent into hell and depression that took almost a year and a half to escape. You know like, you friend is leaving the military...that he asked you to join up with him in....and you get dumped out leading to two year depression spiral where you took a call center job out of desperation to do SOMETHING with your life before you wasted away into a worthless pile of shit.

ONLY for him to show back up, joining the National Guard, and after apartment hunting for less than a week shooting down all your suggestions and saying we need to get this luxury 2 bedroom apartment that just opened up in this brand new apartment complex which..pricey, and doesn't include utilities. :D WHAT COULD GO WRONG!? Hey turns out....food costs money.

Walking in from work one day planning on changing to go out with friends to a bar only to walk into a big fat shirtless old guy sitting on your couch. Having to shoo said friends away from the door from the master bedroom. Only to find out hours later that it was your roomate/bestfriends dad who was now...crashing on your couch for a while?

Also not paying the bills. Getting a GI Bill to go to a mildly scammy tech school to learn HVAC and then...not...doing that....and basically flat out not getting a job. I can not stress how pissed off and stressed out I was for an entire year straight. My natural light brown/blonde streak in my hair got a few white hairs in it from that experience.

Though I am not going to lie it was a wonderful experience. KNOWING that yet again...as I was paying for half the rent, the electric, the internet, I THINK there was a gas bill as well? $100 easy a month on electric in 2012 was kinda hell for my area but oh well. KNOWING that he came to me saying he couldn't pay the water bill. So I needed to cover it. And me pulling a Luane from King of the Hill moment. I paid my fair share, I can live without water for a bit. (I was already having to drive to my parents house every week to do laundry sooooo....yeah we didn't have a washer and dryer for most of the year.)

THE HILARIOUS THRILL OF JOY I FELT WHEN I LEARNED ON MY DAY OFF AS MY ROOMMATE COMES IN HALF COVERED IN SOAP FROM HIS SHOWER TO TELL ME THE WATER WAS SHUT OFF! AHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Schadenfreude. Justified.

The amount of times I had to cover all the bills and the Rent...sometimes completely in a 12 month lease was hellish.

So hellish I somehow managed my money to not go into debt back then. Instead I almost to the Penny Zero'd out myself. Including renting the Uhaul to transport my stuff back into my parents house.

OH and him running to the office to grab the deposit money and just leaving with it to buy an engagement ring. That also sucked. Not like I didn't know where a lot of the money was dissapearing to. When you hear stories from friends about him going to a certain fake Australian restaurant and tipping the waitress personally over $100....in 2012. And constantly making us go back to that restaurant to specifically get her and tip her more money.

.....ah memories. Oh yeah and I got invited to a threesome around that time. Probably should have said yes since I knew them but oh well.

And to think I wondered when I was half my age if I would even survive up today. All the things I would have missed out on experiencing. Never was suicidal. Just genuine curiosity in some morbid fashion if I would someone how just be able to live as my crazy stunted self.

....We own a mower now. We have to fix a few more things on it and the tires definitely need to be replaced but it mows better. And now my girlfriend doesn't need to drive her parent's mower down the highway just so we can cut the lawn. It was worth it for piece of mind.

A handful of people I went to school with have apparently tried to reach out to me a few times. At least one of them died a month after doing so. Never opened that message to find out what they said and that was about a decade ago now. We didn't interact much but I am pretty sure he just thought I was annoying dumbass. Wonder if I should completely erase that.

Think I'll title this brainworms or something. I kinda just let my fingers typed whatever came to mind. This was fun.

:V May you not be bored to death if for some reason you read this. I should add a cut not to take up space. Yis yis.

[redgoldblue]

hellooo. for the fic asks: 8, 16 (to be mean back, affectionately), 20, 38!

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Well, okay, I was originally thinking of a bit in I Would Break Into Your House (the dialogue immediately around the kiss in v. including "This is an intervention for your brain, not my dick.", or possibly the bit after Danny finds the grenade in iv.), but I reread the first part of the almost-finished Muncle wip today. and as stated on a previous reblog i miss Napoleon and Illya. and the major reason I like this part is that I do think it really sounds like both of them, and despite having written so much of them for last year's advent calendar, I'm still having to work to make sure I capture their voices exactly right. But I think I got them here, including Illya's understated yet campy dry snark and Napoleon's equally campy chronic unbotheredness.

(Jeanne is another agent Napoleon slept with the night before)

“Not up to your standards, my friend?” Illya asks, dropping his bag onto the nearest of the single beds. “Oh, my standards aren’t that high. Just thinking it wouldn’t be up to Jeanne’s.” “Ah, no. I can imagine many things wouldn’t be.” The look Napoleon gives him is definitely amused, a wry dart from under his eyelashes. “Didn’t take a liking to our Agent Voix?” “Am I not allowed my little foibles?” “You’re allowed as large a foible as you’d like,” Napoleon tells him, patting him on the shoulder as he passes. Sitting on his own bed, he adds, “I certainly have enough.” “We are discussing one of them,” Illya agrees.

16. If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

I mean... I think I have the same answer as you actually. it is mean bc I write for so goddamn many pairings, and I love writing for all of them both separately and for the internal variety. But in the end I think I'd have to pick Steve/Danny, on historical evidence alone (the 22 in brackets after Hawaii Five-0 on my AO3 dashboard, 7 more than the next fandom down, which is one I've been writing in for... four years longer. only four years longer? god H50's been with me for a long time.)

20. Describe your perfect writing conditions.

Ooh. there's a few elements - music, moving vehicles, rain, liminal spaces/times, a certain state of tiredness where I've just gotten the perfect ability to like, zone into hyperfocus without actively getting sleepy, which is usually associated with having woken up early but not having had to do anything particularly mentally strenuous. They all came to a head in my ideal writing condition one (1) time in my life, which was getting the train from Melbourne to Sydney (a 12-hr ride) by myself, which meant leaving at 7-something am, after a brief vacation and a friend's wedding. Unfortunately I actually had to also be studying for an exam at the time, but I did get some writing in. I'm contemplating whether I can work things so I can repeat it in the opposite direction next month when this term ends (post-exams this time).

38. Talk about a review that made your day.

There is one I still have screenshotted on my desktop from two years ago, so I have to mention it. It's Starsky & Hutch fandom, which is relevant a) bc of course it is, it's the nicest most supportive most receptive fandom on earth and b) bc it's such an old fandom that comments from people you know have been in it for decades always have that extra sheen to them, y'know? And I'm sure I probably actually know who she is but I haven't managed to match username to real person but it's such a nice comment. Self-confessedly gushing about how much she loved it, which is the best type of comment. Also it was on Come Take The Wheel, one of those >10k fics I wrote entirely without deadlines, a fact that always seems vaguely miraculous to me.

fic writer asks!

[cotecoyotegrrrl]

Once Upon A Time - Still Kind of Beautiful - part 2

Not exactly a holiday story

There's a letter on the desktop that I dug out of a drawer  The last truce we ever came to from our adolescent war  And I start to feel the fever from the warm air through the screen You come regular like seasons shadowing my dreams 

Indigo Girls

You can find of this story in its entirety on A03 and FF

Summary:

Holly has come home for the holidays to visit family, and maybe, just maybe, find some holiday magic.

Part 2

Holly is home for the holidays. Home. What a strange and wonderful thing, even though she hasn't lived in this city in a decade, Toronto still feels like home. She comes home about once or twice a year to spend a few weeks to a month visiting friends and relatives, living in the guestroom of what is now her sister's townhouse, although she still owns it. On longer visits, like this one, she combines pleasure with business, hanging out in the morgue, getting caught up with old colleagues, and now that she let her boss talk her into being on that stupid show, giving lectures and making a few official public appearances, God or somebody help her.

It used to be easier avoiding Gail. When Sophie and Leo were young, all that Traci needed to do was to get Gail to babysit the kids for an evening and they would meet up for drinks at The Black Penny. Now that the kids are both old enough to be in collage, it's harder, even though Holly knows Gail doesn't really go out much anymore. She knows she's taken the coward's way out. As Traci says, it's been ten years for Christ's sake, what is she still afraid of? They did part as friends. Right? And now, Traci tells her, laughing at her the whole time, Sophie is a big fan of the show and wants to meet her. It's like she's become the butt of some bad, sad cosmic joke. She sighs and drops her forehead into her arms that are resting on the bar. Seamus, the regular bartender at the Penny, pushes a Jack and Coke in front of her without being asked.

"It's good to see you Doc!" He says as he goes back to polishing the glassware, "This one's on me."

"Thanks Seamus!" She smiles, sitting back up to lift the glass to her mouth. The barely tainted liquor burns all the way down.

Just the way Gail likes it, or did, in any case.

It's been ten years, three months, and sixteen days since she kissed the blonde officer goodbye at the airport on her way to her new life, not that she would know. Ten years, three months, sixteen days, and nine and a half hours since she boarded that plane to be exact, if she kept track of those kinds of things. Ten years, three months, sixteen days, and four hours since she left a message on Gail's voicemail letting her know that her flight had landed in San Francisco, and began to wait for a reply that never came. She thought about reaching out to Gail when Traci told her that Sophie's adoption didn't go through, and then again a year and a half later, when it did. She had wanted to fly home and rush to Gail's side when she heard about the internal corruption investigation, and then the trial where Gail and Steve had been forced to testify against their parents, pitting them against each other as well. But the wall of silence had stopped her. She had seen Gail from a distance on several of her visits home, always managing to slip away before she was noticed, not wanting her presence to intrude on Gail's life. She had heard from several of their mutual friends about how retched Gail had been after she left, and how Gail finally managed to pull herself together when it became clear that Children's Services were considering her once again as a parental candidate for Sophie, after Sophie's placement with a more traditional family fell apart. Who is she kidding? It isn't just Gail that she is trying to protect.

"Hey Girl! You are looking good!" She can hear the smile in Traci's voice even before she spins around on her bar stool to be grabbed into a warm hug.

"Traci!" She grins into the shoulder of the wool coat that is pressing into her cheek.

Traci pulls back, holding her at arms length for a moment and then lets go. She waives at Seamus and holds up two fingers. He nods and places two shots of bourbon and two pints of beer on the bar in front of them.

They settle into a booth in the back, talking about Holly's reluctant celebrity, and Traci's recent promotion to Regional Special Operations Team Leader and her move from Division 15 to the Ontario Police Headquarters, and about how she and Steve reconnected about a year ago and are giving dating another try.

"So you and Steve…?" Holly tilts her head, raising her eyebrows at Traci, "How is that working?"

"It's good." Traci smiles back, "I think we are really going to make a go of it this time. He has done a lot of work on himself around communication, and control, and trust."

"That's great Traci, I am really happy for you." Holly replies.

"Thanks!" Traci says, "And even better, Leo loves Steve, so he couldn't be more thrilled!"

"I can't believe he is in his second year at the University of Toronto! All grown up, and a starting Left Wing on the hockey team!" Holly smiles and shakes her head.

"You want me to get us tickets for a game while you're here?" Traci glows with pride.

"Of course!" Holly grins and finishes her drink. "Here let me get us another round."

The Penny has filled up quickly in the time they have been sitting wrapped in conversation, with the usual crowd of cops getting off the day shift, people from the neighborhood, and the occasional college student or two. Holly has to push her way to the bar and squeeze in between a couple or large guys to place their drink order. She fidgets as she waits for the new bartender she doesn't know to stop flirting a couple of girls sitting at the end of the bar. Sooner or later people she knows will be filing in after work, and then she will be here all night. She sighs and looks up to find Seamus placing their drinks before her.

"Sorry about that." He shrugs, "Jimmy doesn't know you, and he thought you were just some hot cougar out hunting cops." He smirks.

"So I'm no longer a badge bunny." She laughs, "Well at least he thinks I'm still hot."

"Darlin', you were never a badge bunny!" The voice says behind her, "And Seamus, put that on my tab."

She whirls around to be caught in a great hug that warms her down to her very soul.

"It's so good to see you." She murmurs into Oliver's ear.

"Yup. Yup, I could say the same." Oliver releases her, "Celery told me you were in town. So I figured it was only a matter of time before I caught you sneaking around down here."

"I am not sneaking around!" She replies indignantly.

"Sure you're not…" He laughs at her

"I'm not! I'm here with Traci, if you must know…" She gives him a playful shove.

"Yeah, yeah, sittin' in the back, ignoring all of us little people…" He teases. "Well look Darlin', I gotta go but maybe I'll see you when I get home on Monday?"

"Celery and I are just going to hang around the house after lunch, so you know you will." She smiles as he kisses her cheek and walks off in the direction of the dartboard.

Holly smiles to herself. It is good to be home. She has picked up the drinks and is carefully turning to return to her seat when she literally bumps into someone that stops her cold. The black leather jacket is shockingly familiar, from the tiny scull charm dangling from the zipper on the breast pocket to the knot she put in the waist belt so long ago. Looking up into eyes, framed by gold wire rimmed glasses, as dark and brown as her own, in a face she has only seen in pictures, makes Holly gasp.

"Hey! Watch it lady!" The dark curls that tumble out from underneath a watch cap, and the flawless milk-chocolate brown skin are unfamiliar, but the tone and the accompanying gesture are all Gail.

"Sophie?" Holly asks in a hushed tone.

"Oh my God!" Is all Sophie can manage as she gapes wide eyed at her hero, a blush rising in her cheeks. "Doc..Dr. Stewart? You… you know who I am?" She finally sputters.

Holly regains her composure as she watches the girl struggle.

"Wha... what are you doing here?" Sophie stutters, still obviously in shock.

Holly laughs, "I'm having a drink with your Aunt Traci."

"Oh." Sophie says, still frozen to the spot.

"Why don't you come over and say hello." Holly continues, leading the way back to the booth.

"Oh. Ok." Sophie follows like a puppy, all awkward and shy.

"Look who I found." Holly says while sliding back into the booth.

"Oh good! You've met." Traci looks up with a smile. "Hey Sophie! How's school?"

Sophie is still standing somewhat dumbstruck in front of them.

"Uh… good Aunt Traci, really good…" She finally manages.

"Sophie wants to be a Forensic Pathologist too." Traci smiles at Holly.

"Really?" Holly tilts her head with a smile, "So you want to be an uber-science nerd like me?

"Oh I don't think you're a nerd, Dr. Stewart! Well not in a bad way, anyway. I think you're amazing! And all of the cases you help solve…" Sophie gushes.

"Please. Call me Holly." She interrupts, her smile growing wider. So this is Sophie. This amazing young woman is the reason Gail couldn't come with her to San Francisco. Sitting here listening to Sophie ramble on, bubbling about forensic science, in much the same way she does herself, is like a gift she didn't know she needed. Until now. Holly finds the weight of ten years of disappointment and resentment for a life without Gail lifting as she sees the young woman before her begin to glow with excitement as she answers each question about their chosen profession. Traci is grinning ear to ear with pride across the table at her too.

"I have to say, I'm impressed." Holly grins as Sophie finishes telling them about the molecular biology project on the breakdown of DNA and methods of its reconstruction for analysis in the field she has been working on all semester. "That's quite advanced stuff you are working on!"

She watches Sophie blush, lick her lips and scuff her boot on the wooden floor and then look back up at her with wide, trusting eyes in a way that is just so Gail. It catches Holly completely off guard; it makes her want to cry all of a sudden. She can feel Traci's eyes, soft and motherly, watching her. It's all starting to be too much.

"Hey! There you are. I thought we were meeting at the bar…" Gail's annoyed voice cuts in behind Sophie.

Holly closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and leans her head against the wooden back of the booth.

"Hey Mom! I was just talking to Aunt Traci and Dr. Stewart… erm… I mean Holly!" Sophie exclaims, excitement sparkling in her eyes as she turns to face Gail.

"Oh." Gail says as all of the blood drains from her body. She licks her lips, feeling as if she has been plunged into ice water.

Traci is frozen too, looking from Holly to Gail to Sophie with frantic, worried eyes. She finally snaps out of it, springing from her seat to take Sophie gently by the arm. "Why don't we go get another round at the bar." She says, leading a thoroughly confused Sophie away from the booth.

Brown eyes open to meet blue and nothing else matters. The Penny, the noise, and everyone else all seem to disappear.

"Hello Gail." Holly says softly.

That's all it takes. Suddenly Holly is on her feet. Gail takes two quick strides forward to catch her and hold on tight.

"I've missed you." Holly finally manages to gasp in a strangled whisper.

"Me too, Holly, me too." Gail sobs quietly into her ear. "More than I can ever say."

[olderjodijournals]

Sunday, June 2, 2002

I decided that little by little, I would go ahead and print these journals out once they’re fine-tuned. That way, I don’t have to worry about lost information. I know that even with multiple backups, stuff can still be lost. I also don’t give a shit anymore who reads these. If you don’t like something I might have to say, that’s your problem.

Still haven’t heard from Paula, so I’ve basically given up on her till I do.

They did send another Chris doll. This time by UPS. That’s who they usually use, but UPS doesn’t deliver to PO boxes. Tom’s going to call them and have them send it back. I definitely want that other fiber optic fairy, though. Fairy of Cork, I think she’s called (some Irish fairy). This one’s a plug-in rather than a battery-operated one. I like how I can turn these things on when I’m going to bed in the daylight, knowing it’ll be dark when I get up. That way, I’m not fumbling around in the dark when I do get up.

Tom says we’re gonna up the ordering of the Arab and Brazilian dolls a month in advance to two weeks from now, cuz we deserve it, as he says. That’ll be my anniversary present, and mine to him will be new glasses.

Which will it be - out of stock or left to sit on a shelf at the post office for a month? It’s gotta be one or the other. God knows I could never get a doll in just 10 business days after ordering it unless it’s one I already got like with this second Chris fairy. That one was right on time, as was the second Giselle doll back in Phoenix, but was the first one, and the Maria doll on time? No, of course not. The only ones to come on time were the Ashton-Drake dolls, but that’s only cuz they take such a long time anyway.

I slept an amazing 13½ hours last night. Now why in the world did I need so much sleep? Was I really that tired? I guess so. I certainly have been busy. Been busy online and worrying, God’s favorite pastime for me. And like most things in my life, it always comes down to the freeloaders and what trouble they may cause me. The only difference is that any havoc they may wreak upon me since we moved is done indirectly rather than directly. Sometimes I don’t feel like probation is probation, but rather an extension of jail. How many more weeks am I gonna have to sit and wonder what they’re gonna do about this class bullshit? I just want to know and get it over with! Then I can get hit with the next problem or at least potential problem that these freeloaders are gonna cause.

I’m so sick of having to pay for other people’s stupidity (referring to whoever felt my reading comprehension skills were low unless they just threw that in as an excuse to have one more thing to control me with)! It seems like most of Tom’s and my suffering are due to the consequences of others misunderstanding us. We spend way too much time correcting other people’s mistakes or getting ripped off.

I hope Joy will be in this next coming week, cuz my schedule would be perfect for it. Then we can get information on the classes and hopefully get on with that without the state interfering with any more of our time or money.

I accidentally came across a wallpaper site that has something like 22 million pictures, so that’s what I’ve been busy with. They have a huge variety of awesome pictures, most of which are high res. They’re calling the prairie dogs here desert gophers.

Monday, June 3, 2002

I can’t believe that in 6 days I’ll have been here a decade!

Meanwhile, Tom downloaded me a really cool screensaver and wallpaper changer program. This wallpaper changer, unlike my old one, allows me to put as many pictures into a folder for display as I want. It also changes my desktop icon colors to go with whatever colors are in the pictures. Some of the colors are ugly, but I like the surprise of it. It lets me either display pictures in order (usually alphabetically by title names) or random display. I’ve got it on random display.

The screen saver thing works the same as the wallpaper program. It displays as many pictures as I want it to, changing every 15 seconds in random order, but the way cool thing about this one is that I can have it play MP3s too, also in random order.

Tuesday, June 4, 2002

The fucking rats woke me up for the last time last night. No more wheels for them while I’m asleep! Its squeaking was what woke me. I had to take a Benadryl to fall back asleep, so naturally, when the alarm went off at 8:00, I was dog-tired.

I want to maintain a day schedule until Friday the 21st. I’d maintain it just till the 15th if it weren’t for the freeloaders, but the freeloaders say I have to report just one week later, and that might not be enough time to flip my schedule. I should be used to the fact that most of my life comes down to the freeloaders by now. After all, I’m an expert at it. It’s nothing new. It’s been this way since 1996. However, it’s something I just can’t get used to. Maybe in another year.

If only we’d both done our homework up front and known all the facts! If we’d only known what we came to know too late! I’d never have been in jail and I’d never have met Teddy Bear, which would be a good thing, in light of her abandoning me the way she has.

Mary, I could take her or leave her. I wonder why I haven’t heard back from her, though. Hasn’t she had enough time to ask around about the bear’s whereabouts, not that I care anymore, cuz all I know is that Teddy Bear couldn’t have cared the way she led me to believe she did? Whether or not she got my letter, she’d have called if she cared and she didn’t.

Mary never even let me know if she got the stuff I sent her, and again I wonder if someone’s playing games and could be interfering with our mail.

I always believed that public pretenders just didn’t care all that much since they weren’t being paid by their clients, not that they were out to convict along with the DA. Then again, I’ve never been charged with a felony before this, so how was I to know that since public pretenders work for the state and since it was the state that was against me, failing their clients means “winning” for them? Conviction is a victory for them just like it is for the DA. They’re all on the same side.

And if it wasn’t for Tom, I would still believe to this day I went down for the journals and not this letter. Nor would I know about the information Paul withheld from us.

How much longer am I going to let this state victimize me? When am I going to just turn my back and walk away? Oh, how I want to so bad! How I want to show them - see? You can’t always get your way and you can’t push just anyone around. Certainly not me! - But I know that I’d be treated no different than if I’d been a convicted mass murderer who escaped from prison. They’d pursue me as if I were a heavily armed and dangerous person. That means they’d either bust through the door, or they’d throw teargas in here. They wouldn’t consider me a lower priority. They’d put just as much energy and effort into getting at me as they did with Ted Bundy. Then once they got me, I’d probably be looking at close to a decade in prison, then a good 5 years to life on probation once released. Like I said, I’m forced to take this abuse that I wouldn’t deserve even if I wrote them a million threatening letters. It’s just like being strapped to a chair while someone beats on you. There’s just no breaking free!

When Tom was out burning a few days ago, I went out and called to him from about 30 feet away, asking if he wanted a baked potato as I was about to make one for myself. This was in the early evening.

He told me to keep my voice down since voices carry at that hour, so no one would look out to see who was talking, then report us for burning trash.

In the past, I’d have been like, “Oh, you and your silly fears and paranoias! You worry too much about what others may do.”

But now I know better. I know that we must see each and every individual out there as being the potential threat and enemy that they are. Just like animals have to be wary of other animals, we have to watch out for other people. People like Doe and Art would say our attitude sucks, but if our attitude keeps us safer, out of jail and from losing money, we’ll keep our sucky attitude.

There appears to be a new house visible about two properties in front. I can only see part of the top of the house. It looks to be a tan-colored house. I heard what sounded like loud engines around here the other day, but when I looked outside, I didn’t see anything. Well, maybe this was what I heard.

Wednesday, June 5, 2002

Tom’s coming up on his 7-year anniversary at the bank. Of course, that’s nothing when you consider the fact that he was at his last two jobs for 16-17 years, as he said.

And we’re coming up on our 8th anniversary. Wow! My present to him will be new glasses, and his to me will be those Arab and Brazilian dolls. The fight will be on to get them in 10 days. Which will they be, out of stock, or left to sit on a shelf at the PO for a month? It’ll be one or the other, no doubt. They should get here by the same day as Joy’s deadline - Tom’s b-day, the 28th, but we know they won’t get here till mid-July or maybe even August. The tentative plan is to have this be the last of the mail-order dolls for now, cuz I’m sick of having to fight to get them. Besides, if God could spare me from being a state volunteer, I really want to learn to make my own dolls. I’ll probably still have to fight with the PO, though, ordering parts. Then again, maybe not. Maybe we’ll pick things up from a supplier in Phoenix or maybe even Casa Grande.

I kind of hope the dolls are out of stock so that the PO doesn’t just toss them on a shelf and leave them there till we ask for them. What lazy people they are! It’s so much easier to just toss a box on a shelf and say they tried to deliver it than to just give it to the damn person.

Tom said he’d put this class bullshit out of my mind until and if something happens with it, but that is so much easier said than done! the cheeks told me not to worry about it, too. Yeah, that’s what Paul said - don’t worry. I’m sick of these blacks affecting half the things I do, and when they’re not, I’m worrying that they will! It never fucking ends! When we lived together, they’d be pissing me off with their music, and when they weren’t, I’d be stressing over knowing they could start up again any sec. Now, they turn my life upside down by costing me my freedom and thousands of dollars, and when they’re not, I worry that they will. They’re either directly/indirectly wreaking havoc on my life, or I’m worrying that they’re going to do something more, knowing it’s just a matter of time. I feel like I’m never going to be free of these sick fucks!

Always with me, always with them.

Also, this state’s not gonna give without taking. Meaning, if they decide to give me a break with the classes, they’ll just do something else, like push the work issue, demand more money, or that I go to Casa Grande to piss in front of someone since I haven’t in a year.

I’d like to think that Scot’s word would have a lot of leverage in my favor (by his saying he doesn’t think classes are necessary and showing them my diplomas), being that he’s one of their own, in a sense. After all, they’d never second-guess him if he said he found drugs or guns in here or made up some other bullshit story to get at me if he wanted to be that corrupt, but I think it’s more important to them to control me than to listen to him. Well, I sure as hell hope I find out, either way, this Friday. I want this done and over with, so I can move on to worry about some other freeloader-related bullshit. Either that or so I can be free to deal with whatever appliance decides to break next if it isn’t the car.

Although Scot hasn’t stepped out of line yet and I doubt that he will, I’m still on guard. I’ll forever be paranoid and wary of those in law enforcement, after all, I’ve been through, and I could kick myself for even thinking of getting together with Teddy Bear. How stupid could I have been, despite how good-looking she was?! In more ways than one, for a variety of potential reasons, I’m glad she blew me off. I mean, all Scot has to do is say I slugged him, say he heard me plotting to kill the freeloaders - anything - and there wouldn’t be a damn thing I could do to prove otherwise. Not a damn thing. He’d pay for it eventually, but not without taking me down with him first.

Thursday, June 6, 2002

Mary’s being a pest again. No, not with requests to print her journal excerpts out, but with another postage-due letter. It’s only 12 cents, but it puts Tom out. Besides, how many more times do I have to tell her this?! I mean, are we dumb here, or do we just not get it?

She also wants Tom, since I bullshitted her by saying I tried to visit and was turned away for being on probation, to come down and withdraw $80 from her account to send to her boyfriend Todd in Utah for his birthday. I’m simply going to tell her that I don’t want anyone with my last name at that jail. I can’t take any chances at stirring things up and we don’t know of anyone else willing and trustworthy of doing this. Unless the probation department’s going to come out and demand I do something I can’t/won’t do like stand on my pinky finger all day or divorce Tom, I don’t ever intend to return to Estrella Jail to freeze my ass off while I live on hotdogs and cold showers! And I know damn good and well that God would never allow me the blessing of being able to reside with the same compatible celly month after month after month. I’ll be damned if I’ll go back there and play musical cellies; some of them ok, some crazy, and some rude, loud and obnoxious.

Damn, even at home I gotta put up with inmates’ requests! If she keeps this up, I’m gonna feel used and I’m gonna ignore her just like the bear ignored me.

I also told her that Tom needs to sleep during the daytime whenever possible, but that I could make him a birthday card with my card-making program if she wants.

She feels really helpless being locked up and all, and as I told her, I understand and I do empathize and sympathize with her! I wasn’t locked up during Tom’s birthday, but I was during Christmas.

She’s really got me worried once again that someone may be interfering with my mail to her. Maybe some of my unanswered questions are in the letter that he plans on picking up tomorrow, but she never told me if she got her book excerpts or the pictures I sent. Didn’t she get that stuff? And what about the letter where I mentioned getting paints and a kiln and getting into doll-making? And how about the jail story that I’ve begun sending bit by bit with changed names? It really shocked me when she said she hoped my Teddy Bear story was going along well. The “story” was simply a quick clip that was barely a page long, and that I sent her. Didn’t she get it?

Well, I decided to start saving and numbering my letters to her, letting her know to tell me if she’s ever missing a number. This will hopefully tell me, cuz I really need to know if someone is meddling with my mail so I can then figure out who it is and take the proper means to stop them. Mail tampering is a hell of a felony for real!

As for Teddy Bear, yes, it’s always possible that she didn’t get the letter and assumed I’d forgotten about her as Mary suggested, but I still believe that if she truly cared enough, she’d have called to find out what was going on for sure. If I were her and I didn’t get the letter and I truly cared, I’d say to myself, I changed workplaces, so maybe that’s why the letter didn’t make it to me. Rather than assume she’s blowing me off, I’ll at least call like she told me to in the first place if her letter didn’t make it to me. The worst that could happen is that we don’t see each other. And if I were her and I did get the letter but changed my mind for whatever reason, I’d at least have the decency to call and say something like, “Thanks for the letter and thanks for taking the time to breed the mice, but no thanks. I just wanted to tell you so you wouldn’t be left hanging and wondering what happened. Good luck in life and take care of yourself.”

Like it or not, she’s a phony. I was just a game to her. Just something to pass the time with. She lied to me by saying one thing and doing another. I know we’re not meant to ever see each other again and there’s no use in kidding myself about that. I have to move on and “bumping into her” at work like she suggested would be a bad idea. First of all, I wouldn’t want to see someone who no doubt doesn’t want to see me, and secondly, that would be stalking, and I don’t care to live up to the label I’ve got on me. Her suggestions and support are appreciated, though. Also, she said she hasn’t been able to find out anything on her cuz there are so many new DOs.

I used to complain about criminals/inmates having all the rights. Well, not here in Arizona they don’t! The rights all go to the victims, some of which are real and some of which aren’t, of course. Actually, the rights go to the “minorities.”

I’m totally stressing over tomorrow. I try to tell myself, to relax. It’s just God wanting you to worry. You know he loves to hang you with these freeloaders, so just chill out. Also, he loves to see you worry about one thing after another for no reason at all.

But what if there is a reason to worry this time around? I still can’t know for sure that they’re not gonna make any more unreasonable or impossible requests as I vibed in jail, but like I said a long time ago, I can’t do what I can’t do, and I won’t allow myself to be abused by the system any more than I already have. If he comes out and says these classes are going to be frequent and or costly, I’m gone. I don’t know where I’ll go, but I’ll figure it out. They may not leave me much of a choice. Just like with the freeloaders, one can only be pushed so far. If they push me to put my foot down, then maybe they’ll think next time if they want to make a buck off of someone that bad. They won’t just be losing control over me if they force me to run, they’ll be losing my $40 a month, too.

I’ll bet if one studied the stats, they’d find that the number of criminals, real or imagined, doesn’t fluctuate much out here. Gotta keep things steady to keep business moving. The state uses whatever sources it can to make money. They depend on criminals just as much as the taxpayers. As Gina said at the recycling center, as soon as one leaves, another one comes in.

It’ll be interesting to see how the doll company handles us sending the second doll back. I wonder if they’ll give us back our money, thinking the doll we sent back was the only one we ever got, but I doubt it.

It’s been 20 days since we ordered Joy. I hope she comes in soon! The sooner I get her, the sooner we can find out about the classes if God will let me work for me for a change and not for the state. If they won’t drop this class thing, then I’ll really take that as a sign reminding me that my life doesn’t belong to me! At that point, I won’t bother with classes, if my purpose in life must be to serve others. If God wants me to be a state servant that bad, then that’s just what he may get! I mean, wouldn’t he just love me if I volunteered at the recycling center, which I’d hate, of course.

I was surprised when I saw that I awoke at 124 pounds. I may’ve quit trying to lose weight, but I haven’t gone crazy, either. Then, I turned around and shit 3 times over the next few hours, losing two pounds. So, I guess I was just bogged down in shit.

Friday, June 7, 2002

Well, today’s the day. I should find out today what’s going on with the class shit. Tom says taking adult education classes is no big deal, and that the most it could be - and this is extreme - would be a few times a week since they know people have to work, but it’s a big deal to me. He can play this down all he wants, but it’s a big deal to me, ok? Even if it was a free 5-minute class, it’s a big deal as long as it’s connected to the freeloaders. freeloader-induced activities are a big deal, and it’ll also be a big deal if I have to be put out yet again all cuz of someone’s spite and misconception.

How is it that so many people have had such control over my life? Meanwhile, I couldn’t control another human being like this even if I wanted to, though I don’t want to. I just want to be left alone. But if I misunderstand someone, I just misunderstand them. No harm done to anyone. But with me, it could turn my life upside down if someone misunderstands me.

Why must I be the one to have to pay for people’s stupidity?! I always used to think it best to play down all I knew so I could surprise someone if I needed to use what I knew against them, but now I realize just how important it is to appear alert, receptive and like you know what’s going on, even if you really don’t.

I’m also sick of Tom making me feel worse when I bitch about this shit, too. He’s done nothing but play the situation down and make me feel, in a sense, like I’m a fool to get upset over it or to worry about what else these freeloaders may do.

When I told him I wanted to get rid of the baby males, he got all upset over the money spent on the new cage cuz we had plans to breed. He always gives me a hard time when I want to get rid of animals, but anyway, I told him I would’ve wanted that cage anyway. It’s a much better cage. Besides, we did try to breed Little Buddy and it didn’t work, not that I can complain since Lady was so spastic. The point is, he bitches about money spent on a cage that I love and wanted either way, but the black bitch fee? Hell, that’s just another bill. No big deal. As soon as I bitch about the freeloaders or the state, he’s quick to either defend them or play the situation down and I’m fed up with it. I really am. So, if I get told what I don’t want to hear today, I’m just going to grin and bear it till I can get home and unleash my anger and frustration in this journal.

I wish to hell I could brainwash myself into believing this is all my fault and that I deserve the sentence I got! But even if I were guilty as hell, no one deserves to be thrown in jail for something they wrote, nor should they be left on probation afterward for this long and lose so much money over it. There’s no way, guilty or not, I could ever consider myself a criminal, let alone a stalker. I never “stalked” these sick fucks, nor did I do anything else other than express myself. The only thing I did wrong was that I did resort to words and not actions. And those words were sent to a hateful, prejudiced, emotional wimp who couldn’t handle what I had to say, and she used/abused her connections against me. No one out here deals with people head-on. They cower behind the corrupt law.

God definitely decided I should be born a follower and not a leader. But I don’t want to be either! I just want to be myself. I don’t tell others what to do with their lives and I’m sick of people telling me what to do with mine! It’s not right. It’s just not right and it’s not fair.

It’s still utterly appalling to think that a perfect stranger (Judge H) could sit in judgment of me as he did, and have such a huge impact on me, my life, and Tom’s life as well.

You know what else? I thought about it and said, fuck it! I’m decrypting all my journals. If any pig were to steal them, though I’ll be damned if I’ll submit to “search and seizure” if I can help it, they should read all I have to say about them as well as other shit I’ve written. Let them read it all! I want them to. If they want to take the time and go to all the trouble, they should at least get their reading pleasure out of all this now, shouldn’t they?

It almost makes me laugh when I think of all the legwork the pig and the state have gone through to get at me. And all for a letter. When you think of all the paperwork, the time, etc., it’s just so asinine that it’s almost comical. The state’s probably spent more on paper and ink than we have in the last 8 years just to give the media and whoever else copies of the journals. When I found out on sentencing day that the pre-sentencing guy had written down everything I had said over the phone word for word, I was like, “Oh, my God! All that work? All that time and energy into copying down every single little thing I said when all he had to do was write down the highlights which would’ve been plenty enough to get my point across (not that anyone gave a damn).”

Of course, I’m sure he had to throw in a few words of his own along the way and twist some of mine, too.

“Justice.” Why was the word ever invented? There’s no such thing. Not by people, not by God. The only things there are are competition, spite, control, power, vindictiveness, greed and revenge. It’s all a game in the eyes of all the players but the real victims.

Paula’s so lucky and she doesn’t even know it. Yeah, she called last night. For slugging a pig, she gets a 1-year suspended sentence. All she has to do is report once a month and stay out of trouble so she doesn’t go to jail for 90 days. No one will be coming to her house and she doesn’t have to pay a dime. The $270 fine was waived cuz she’s poor. If she’d have slugged a pig out here, she’d be looking at a huge sentence. She’d probably do 3-10 in prison, then years and years of probation afterward. Having Section 8 and Justin may help her a bit, but not too much.

She gave me her email address. I’ll email her later.

The bulk of the conversation was about what most of our chats are about - her being furious with the Puerto Rican she’s seeing that she thinks is cheating on her.

When she told me she sent two letters over the last couple of months (and I believe her), this really raised a red flag as far as my suspicions about the mail tampering go. My mounting suspicions really worry me. You’ve got Mary, who seems to be missing letters from me. Pérez, who seems not to have gotten my letter, and Paula, who can’t seem to get mail to me to save her life. Some of it is probably made up just to get me to keep on writing her, but she wouldn’t have not written for this long. Something’s going on. But who is it and why are they doing this? I know the PO’s incompetent, but this is a little overkill, and I really wonder yet again if Teddy Bear ever got my letter, though she still could’ve called.

Once again I must ask myself, am I being paranoid, or is someone out to get me? The only one that could be doing this is the pigs and maybe even Scot, too. Maybe they’re looking to see who I correspond with so they can hope to get me thrown back in jail. But if that’s the case, what’s taking so long? How many more letters to and from Mary and Paula do they need? Are they just taking a letter here and a letter there while hoping to find something going to the freeloaders? Is that it? Or could the PO really be that fucked up while Paula tells me nothing but bullshit lies?

Then there’s another possibility. One worse than any meddling pigs. Could Tom be withholding any mail from me? And if so, why? I certainly can’t imagine why he’d do that and it seems highly unlikely, but I know that anything’s possible. I mean, why would he not give me mail from Paula? And if Teddy Bear or Pérez did write, why would he not give me their mail? Would he be that jealous? I doubt it. If it isn’t a case of lies and incompetence, then someone’s looking to get my ass.

Later…

Un-fucking-believable! Scot never even mentioned the class thing. Not a word either way. I was really surprised. Of course he had to comment on how much time I had left. I asked Tom, “Is he really that forgetful, or is he just looking to see if I am?”

“He’s just making small talk. There’s only so much to talk about,” he said.

How about how hot it’s been? Anything else for a change.

Yeah, I know. I sound just like Dureen.

Anyway, I’d rather hear nothing than hear I have to take classes, but it would’ve been even better if I could’ve been told I don’t have to take them so I could be done with it. Instead, I still have it hanging over my head. I think these freeloaders and the shit they cause will always be hanging over my head!

He seemed like he was in a bad mood. Not by anything he said, but it was just something I sensed, aside from his usual cold, impersonal self. This guy needs to loosen up! Then again, as long as he doesn’t fuck me over, he can be Mr. Serious of the Year for all I care.

I told him about the doll-making plans we have. At first he said absolutely nothing. Then he asked how much dolls usually cost and when I plan to get into it.

The letter with the postage due from Mary shed a lot of light on this mail mystery. There is no mystery after all. She did get my letters and the bear probably did, too. That leaves only Paula. Paula, who happens to call right after I said I wouldn’t write till I heard from her. How convenient.

Yeah, I’m now convinced she isn’t writing. If someone was meddling with the mail, why would hers be the only letters they took?

Mary did put extra postage on after all, but the cheap bastards at the PO still wanted their 12 precious cents.

Another favor too, she wanted. She sent pages she tore out from an astrology book and asked me to type them for her. Instead, I just scanned them.

She really likes the idea of my getting into doll-making. She wants a doll with fuchsia hair and purple eyes someday. Yeah, I know she likes those colors.

The few DOs who knew Teddy Bear say they haven’t heard anything about her since she left. Mary still thinks she didn’t deliberately hurt me. I’d like to think that too, but it seems rather obvious that I was blown off by her, whether or not she got my letter and I think she did. The more I think about it, the more I’m pretty sure that the only one playing games with the mail is Paula. I don’t need to number my letters to Mary.

Mary agrees that writing is very therapeutic, and she too, is good at writing sex scenes. I included one for her that I always had when I was alone in 3. One where the bear would lick my pussy or we’d kiss while I’d massage her achy shoulders when she’d stop by on walks.

Saturday, June 8, 2002

It makes keeping a schedule really hard when you need so much damn sleep! I couldn’t drag my ass out of bed till 9:30, an hour later than I’d have liked. Watch, I’ll be tired all day. Then come early evening, I’ll wake right up. Maybe I’ll take Benadryl at 9:30, so I can have my damn 12 hours of sleep. I believe I only got 10 this time around.

I ask myself, what if I could choose between staying right here with the freeloaders very much a part of our lives, or going back to Massachusetts and living in the same nice house, also on 10 acres, with no freeloaders involved? Would I return to Massachusetts? You know, I think I would. After all, the only real thing I hated about New England, besides its weather, was the fact that things tended to be a little too old and a little too expensive. Things are different now, too. I wouldn’t have to be out playing bus in the cold, snow and humidity. It would be very hard for us to afford a house there, though. Very few houses there are under $100,000.

Later…

At 1:00, our power went out. We figured it’d be back on in a few, but by 3:00, it was near 90 in here. Tom put batteries in his old radio and learned that the power was out in Maricopa and Stanfield, which they were calling Stanford.

So we went to Walgreens in Casa Grande and I picked up a few neat things. Glittery hair ties in various colors, very berry lip gloss, two sports bras, Sunflowers cologne, and some nail polish I shouldn’t have bothered with. It’s supposed to be light pink in warmth, blue in cold, and green/gold in UV rays, but it’s not that impressive. It feels rubbery, too. It has no shine and is barely visible even with 3 coats cuz it’s so light. That chrome nail polish is definitely the best.

Anyway, I put some of the glitter ties in a few of the doll’s hair, but on Jade, they’re bracelets. She has 3 on each wrist. With Mei Lin, I put 6 different colored ties down the length of each of her two ponytails. It totally goes with her outfit. I used a white one to tie Chris’s ponytail with, a pink/gold one as Falling Star’s headband, a gold one around Emerald’s ankle to go with the gold accents in her green dress, a pink one around Bailey’s ankle, a silver one around the skating Barbie’s waist, one as a tube top for another Barbie, and to tie off two of the Indian doll’s two braids with, I used pink, purple, blue and black. I’m sure I’ll decorate future dolls with them as well as my own hair.

Sunday, June 9, 2002

I have thought of Teddy Bear every day for nearly a year and a half now, and I have to wonder, will there ever come a day when I don’t think of her? I doubt it. I just wish I knew what happened! I’m only 95% sure she got the letter and blew me off for either someone else or cuz I’m married, not 100%.

Damn you girl, get back to Estrella so Mary can at least question you!

But I know this will never happen, and if it does, Mary will be gone by then.

In less than an hour, I’ll have been here a decade. That’s something I have mixed emotions about. I still like Arizona, but over the years I’ve found more and more things not to like about it.

Despite its hardships, how different my life is now than when I stepped off that plane 10 years ago! I was 25 pounds lighter with barely a gray hair or two. My only friend was a pothead, and I had no furniture or place to live. Then God nearly starved me to death!

How dumb and naïve I was to have gotten involved with anyone I met at the pool or anywhere else around there. I can’t be held responsible for people’s actions like Andi’s, Rosemarie’s, Donna’s, Robert’s, Mark’s or Ellie’s, but you know what? If I had ignored them, none of my problems with them would’ve happened.

Well, sort of. I have to take that back when referring to Andi. With just a thin little wall between us, it was rather impossible to ignore her shit, just like with the freeloaders. Sometimes we’re just too close to our enemies to be allowed the privilege of ignoring them.

Tuesday, June 11, 2002

I couldn’t get up at 8:00 like I wanted to. I had to sleep till 10:00 instead. Since I had 10 hours of sleep today, maybe I can get by with just 8 tomorrow. If I could only fall asleep earlier! And if I only didn’t need so much fucking sleep! I thought we were supposed to need less sleep when we got older. I guess that really means old kind of older.

After calling two places yesterday that wouldn’t take the rats, we dumped the male babies before leaving for the new mall in Chandler.

At the mall, we looked for a place that sold that hair-streaking stuff, but never found a place that did. We went into the As Seen on TV store and got this shower massager with a rotating brush that I’ve been wanting. It really scrapes away dead, flaky skin.

We ate in their food court, before heading to a strip mall where they had the hair stuff.

Tom did my hair for me, since it’s so long, and it was a bust. I should’ve known better, too. Especially since it said it was better on lighter hair. My hair was too dark for it, so you can’t even tell anything was done to it. I’ll have to get a color, especially for darker hair, or I’ll just dye it all dark brown. I’m still not sure when I’ll cut it.

One thing’s for sure and that’s that Scot couldn’t have come to the house yesterday. Not with God knowing I wasn’t home to have to deal with him.

As unfair as it is, it’s good that I’m home and answer the door as quickly as I can when he does come around. I wouldn’t want too many absences to get him all paranoid and think we’ve got something to hide in here when we don’t, thus making trouble for us, then ultimately for himself and anyone else dumb enough to get involved. I will file the biggest harassment lawsuit, plus whatever else I can think of along the way if he even thinks of tossing this house. Then they can say I hate whites too, and act like these poor, poor victims.

As I said before, this isn’t a county jail cell. This is my home. And the state and its drones aren’t about to play mommy and daddy with me on the home front if they know what’s good for them!

I have to back down a good 5 pounds or so. I’m not looking to get skinny, but 125 pounds is a bit uncomfortable for me. It gets a bit hard to get around. I’ve been slacking off on any kind of aerobic activity, and it goes to prove once again that it really does help. It won’t make you skinny like dieting can, but it’ll help keep your weight from going up. So, I’ll row or walk and put myself on a low-cal diet for a few days. It’s no big deal. Not like it would be if I tried to tell myself I was going to get down to 100-110. Even getting down to 115 would be quite a battle. I know I’d look better and that my clothes would fit better, but it’s not worth the slavery it’d take to get down there. Also, the lower my weight is, the harder it is to maintain it.

We saw an exercise bike in Sears, which was amazingly comfortable and quiet! The seats sure have changed. They’re not like the seats of regular bikes anymore. They have seats wide enough for even the fattest of asses, and a nice comfortable back, too. The one we saw, which was one of their smallest, was for $180. We both agree we want to get it at some point and put it in the den (I already made room for it). That way, I can row to at least one half-hour show a day and it won’t be so boring.

Meanwhile, the walker is a bit too strenuous and the rower makes these clanky sounds, making it hard to hear a TV or anything like that, so I just row to music.

Also, I had stopped doing ab crunches to see if the zapper alone would be sufficient enough, but it’s not. The two of them combined work best, so I’ll start crunching again.

Later…

It’s possible that someone may’ve bought the land across the street cuz I saw some cock in a red pickup get out and look for property markers the other day, and today, a county car was sitting in the road for a while. This could mean that they’re going to grade the road for bringing a house in and to deter people from driving on the property.

Whenever a house gets over there, I’ll have mixed emotions about it. It’ll do us good money-wise, but we’ll lose even more privacy. Knowing they’ll just have to sit at the front of their house, and I’m sure the house will be closer to the road, we’ll have to see them and their dogs, which may be a bit audible, depending on just how close to the road they settle. We’re 150’ from the road, so if they end up 150’ from the road too, which seems logical, that’s 300’ which would be closer than next door is at about 400’. Not a thrilling idea, but anything’s better than having blacks and Hispanics 3’ away.

Wednesday, June 12, 2002

I’m hungry but down a pound.

Got a letter from Mary today. This time around her request was to print and send her any articles about Monster’s being crazy. Despite the nature of the crime, all I could find was one little paragraph outlining the highlights of the case. I sent it to her.

She said something about making hair locks out of her shedded hair and asked if I wanted her to send me one. I’m not sure I know what she means by making hairlocks, but sure, send me what you want, I told her.

Teddy Bear’s a hopeless, lost cause in my life that’s now a closed chapter, but I thanked her for asking around.

Oh, and I wouldn’t necessarily believe everything you read in the Bible, I told her, pertaining to how she quoted the Bible’s saying “The truth will set you free.”

The truth will set you free? Yeah, right! I suppose that’s why I was there. It just doesn’t always work that way. At least, not for me it hasn’t.

She says now the captain says she can’t release any of her money. What happened to their release of property thing? As I agreed with her, it is unfair that she can’t release her own money. Just one more stupid, arbitrary rule to control people with, huh? I guess it works out for the better, though, since Tom couldn’t get the money anyway.

Then what she had to say next got me pissed. It’s about Hope, who’s been a regular little user and has turned against Mary for finally putting her foot down. I told her I didn’t care if she showed Hope what I had to say about her.

She said she’s been taking care of Hope financially all these months and that she worries about telling Todd and her uncle, who’s dying of cancer, cuz she doesn’t want them all pissed off and worried.

I was shocked that she could let someone use her like that, but more so I was downright pissed. Damn that little greedy, rude, selfish, spoiled, immature, vindictive wimpy bitch! And her family too, for telling Hope over the phone that Mary should share her stuff with her. And just why should she? Since when is Hope K her daughter and her responsibility? To what does she owe her the honor of being her slave? It’s a good thing I’m not there! And I don’t care if the little fuck reads my opinion of her, but God help her if she gets my address and writes me cuz that’ll be an immediate page 2 for her if she does. Yes, I’ll be running to the piggies myself and I’ll be filing charges quicker than my electric nail filer can file my nails if I hear from her.

I told her she doesn’t have to worry about telling Todd or her uncle. All she has to do is stop giving to her. If she can’t handle it, tough shit! That’s her problem.

Yeah, I figured she was either a pervert or a child beater. She broke her kid’s ribs, she told me. Lovely, huh? I could kick myself for feeling bad for her when the emotional wimp cried hysterically on the phone that day in April, then passed out (probably faked it), then was maxed and sent to A Tower. (yeah, I could kick myself for a lot of things)

She really pissed me off that time I was fighting with Teresa and Laticia, who were just as rude, childish and as selfish as she is. It was none of her business, the beef was between me and them, yet she just had to go and stick her nose in it anyway. She needs to learn to mind her own fucking business! She’s never gonna survive in prison. I’d bet my favorite doll that she doesn’t get out alive. She’s gonna fuck with the wrong person there. I know it. I just know it, and I told her so.

Oh, and to run and call Mommy over it is so incredibly childish. That’s like some little kid running and crying out, “Mommy, mommy, she won’t let me play with her dolly!” Oh, boo-hoo. Poor, poor thing! That was just as childish as when she ripped up the note I had for Teresa. The mature, adult thing to do would’ve been to just ignore me. Then she had the nerve to write, “You wouldn’t be saying these things if there weren’t doors and walls between us.”

Oh, yes I would, I thought to myself. Who does she think she’s kidding if she’s implying I’d be afraid to speak my mind to her and her little friends to their faces?

Believe me, back then, I wished there weren’t doors and walls between us, and I’d love to be back there for just two minutes, but I couldn’t write all about the things I’d like to do to her in my letter. As we learned, there’s no such thing as “freedom of speech.”

Hope’s a hypocrite, too. She also wrote in that kite to me that I was bossing the pod around, which as Mary knows from being there, was pure bullshit. Meanwhile, she’s sitting there telling people to do this and do that.

People like her really make my blood boil! Who the hell is she to think she’s owed anything from anyone after all she’s done and the way she treats people? She has no conscience or empathy for others. All she cares about is herself. Just wait till she gets to prison. They’ll set her straight there. She won’t be a little beggar there. Or a big-mouthed, back-stabbing hypocrite.

I feel so bad for that kid of hers. Imagine being that kid, and one day you’re asked where your mother is and all you can say is, “Oh, my mommy broke my ribs so she’s in prison till she gets a taste of her own medicine.”

I have no sympathy for this sick twist simply because she admitted to what she did, according to Mary. Doesn’t make her any less guilty. She’s still a subhuman piece of shit I’d spit on then step on as if she were merely a cockroach or yesterday’s trash.

Well, she can just remind her that she came to Estrella as a witness, not to be her servant. She doesn’t owe her shit, so whether she’s being a spiteful little greedy, spoiled bitch or a major sweetheart, she shouldn’t let herself be used. She’ll never get a dime of that money back.

Hopefully, she’ll either shut up, mind her own damn business, fend for herself and leave Mary alone, or one of them can be moved. Hope should be the one to move if it comes to it cuz she’s the one causing trouble.

Why can’t I run into people like Nancy K, Teresa B and Hope K on the streets where I have nothing to lose? Then again, you know God never lets me get away with anything. As soon as they got out of the hospital, they’d either come torch our house, or I’d go to jail. Even worse, they might do something to Tom.

Thursday, June 13, 2002

Just got done changing both the mice and rat cages.

I’m down two more pounds, so I’m 122.

Got up an hour and a half later than planned, at 9:30. So I got 9½ hours of sleep, although I could’ve used the usual 10-11.

I’m beginning to wonder if JBS fouled up our order. After all, it’s a doll for me, so why not? If we were ordering anything else, like a mural, then there’d be no problem. They were pretty speedy with Jade’s kit, though, so we’ll see. The deadline is Tom’s birthday.

I had a series of weird dreams, but the only one I remember is a bad one pertaining to Paula. I was at her apartment when two cops came to arrest her. The male pig told her she was in the biggest amount of trouble she’d ever been in as he cuffed her, then led her to a cruiser with a scrawny blond female cop following with her gun drawn. I asked the male pig if he needed me to stick around and he told me he didn’t.

So where are you, Scot? You like to visit me on the 13th (3 X’s on the 13th). Maybe he’ll skip June altogether or come next week right before I see him. He also likes to see me before I see him.

Of course, I still have this class bullshit hanging over my head, since he didn’t say they were omitting it. Even if they did, they’d just pick on me with something else. Watch, with my shit luck, they’ll try to extend my probation, saying I didn’t do it so it still needs to be done. Well, I can guarantee them one thing for sure and that’s that that’ll never happen. Come October 30th of 2003, if I ever hear from any law enforcement person(s) ever again pertaining to this sick black bitch, I’ll sue the shit out of this state so damn fast, Maricopa County will be left in a daze for decades.

Why the fuck do they even have such a thing as “freedom of speech” if we can’t exercise this so-called right in the first place? Well, I’m sorry, Arizona, but I have a right to say what I want to and to dislike any person or group of persons I want to, goddamnit! When I lay a hand on someone and it isn’t in self-defense, then they can bitch about it.

Friday, June 14, 2002

Another pound down. I’m taking a break today, which should cause me to gain two pounds back, but I’ll be dieting again over the weekend. Then Monday we’ll be going out to eat, so I won’t resume dieting yet again, if I decide to continue with it, that is, till Tuesday.

I was browsing through the more humorous wallpapers last night when I came across one that would’ve been perfect for the freeloaders. It showed a hand holding a gun and said: Warning! I don’t dial 911. When I commented to Tom about it, instead of having any kind of a sense of humor about it, he said, “Yeah, that’s how all this trouble got started.”

When I asked what he meant, he said, “If you hadn’t thought that way in the first place, all this trouble wouldn’t have happened.”

Yeah, I know. It’s all my fault. Everything’s always my fault. Of course, it’s just as easy for me to say that if he had let me handle the bitch my way to begin with, we wouldn’t be in this mess. Nor would we if he’d listened to me when I told him something was very wrong with Paul, paid off Sharon, and stayed away from the courthouse.

I know Tom blames me way more than he blames them, besides the fact that it’s in Tom’s nature to blame me when I’m mad at or having a problem with someone. I don’t think it’s right and I believe he should stand by his wife, but this is just the way he’s always been. If I start bitching about Jane Doe or Joe Shmoe, he’ll start bitching at me for bitching at them, implying either directly or indirectly that I have no grounds to be pissed at them, and perhaps I asked for trouble somehow.

Believe me, I know it’s my fault even though it isn’t. Meaning, I’m not responsible for the freeloader’s actions. I didn’t make them harass us the way they did, nor did I do anything to them to deserve it, other than to ask them to lower their music. If that’s provocation in the freeloader’s eyes, then that just goes to prove how warped they truly are, though they picked on us before we asked them to quiet down and would’ve done so if we never said a word to them as well. They were in their own little world, oblivious to those around them unless they were putting thought into badgering me, like by chaining the dog to the jeep in the carport, so it could be as close as possible to our house.

I kick and blame myself all the time for how I handled the freeloaders, the pigs, Paul - the whole damn thing. However, nothing I did/said/wrote warrants being locked up and placed on probation. I didn’t ask for the shit these freeloaders gave me. I never deserved the shit they gave me directly in Phoenix, and I never deserved the shit they’ve given me through the Jew-hating pig and our minority-pampering system after leaving Phoenix, either. Regardless of guilt or innocence, anyone can say/write that they’re gonna kill someone. Anyone can. 95% of the time it’s just talk. Meanwhile, if we were to lock up everybody who made a threat at one point or another during their lives, 95% of the population would be locked up.

Although I wanted to rip the shit out of Nancy, and although I knew I couldn’t stand to be her celly one moment longer, I knew she was full of it when she threatened me. She knew I’d have Chavez pull me and that’s exactly what she wanted at first so she could be alone till she got bored being all by herself.

I’m not saying no one acts on their threats, but 9 out of 10 times, those who are serious act if they’re going to act, they don’t make threats. Most threats are either said in moments of anger or simply meant to intimidate people or to get them off their backs.

Nothing bothers me more than when Tom said, “I just want to see that she gets help” at the sentencing. I mean, what kind of a defense is that? Doesn’t he realize how guilty that made me seem? He even had Paula believing I picked on the cunt for no good reason at all and told her I’d probably do it again.

Yes, he’s stuck by me through all this shit, but just how much is he really on my side?

The wallpaper site I’ve been into lately, lets you send their pictures as e-cards, the equivalent of postcards. I’ve sent pink flowers to Tom for our anniversary tomorrow, and then a couple of rabbits on a skateboard for his birthday.

It’s been 28 days since we ordered Joy. Something’s wrong. How the fuck am I gonna be a dollmaker if I’m always going to have to chase down the dolls?! I’m sure God will have me fighting for greenware just as much as he does assembled dolls. Still, we’re ordering those dolls from Paradise Galleries tomorrow. I’ll make sure he hangs onto the order number so that we can have them put a trace on whatever dolls I don’t get in 30 days from tomorrow.

In other news, I made the comment to Tom that I’d probably never have sex again in my life, meaning that no one seems to be serious when they claim to be attracted to me and want me.

Then he said, “I know, you told me.”

I was like, “No I didn’t. What do you mean, I told you?”

Then he goes on to say that I told him I wouldn’t do it with him, and I’m like - what I crock! I never said that. What I said was that I could live without it, since it was nothing new and exciting. Besides, he’s a bore in bed. I didn’t need to tell him this, though. But it’s nothing personal against him. These days nothing could turn me on but a woman I was attracted to going down on me and that’s never going to happen.

It’s all bullshit, though. Just bullshit. Why can’t he admit that we both have no interest in getting it on together? Like I said, if it isn’t gonna be the bear going down on me here and there, I’d rather be celibate. I can’t get it on with just any woman, so I guess this means God wants me to be faithful, even though he cursed the sex life we used to have, even if it was a joke of one. Despite the fact that I no longer desire sex or a kid, I still feel just as picked on by getting a man who only gets hard as I do blessed by him sending me someone with Tom’s personality.

I just don’t get God. It’s like he has a weak moment where he’s suddenly in this wonderful mood and he blesses me with something good, but most of the time he just wants to hurt me. He lives for seeing me hurt. How totally cruel of him, after allowing me to be thrown in jail when I never should’ve been there in the first place, to finally, after all these years, meet and fall in love with a woman I’m attracted to, who was attracted to me back, or so she said, only to put the joke on me in the end. I’m sure he was up there laughing his ass off every time I’d sit and think in excited anticipation of seeing her again on the outs.

Is he up there laughing down at me right now? Is he saying to himself, so, she thinks she’s gonna be a dollmaker, huh? Well, I guess I’ll just have to remind her who’s in charge of her life, and it ain’t her!

Later…

Earlier I had said to myself and to Tom, “It’s only dolls, so why would God stop me from making them?”

Just because he can. Foolish or not, I’m not giving up, though it doesn’t matter that it’s only dolls. It doesn’t matter if it’s something as farfetched as jumping to the moon, or as natural as having a baby. If it’s what I want, it’s probably out of the question. He can stop me by having people fuck up on me like they do when I try to get assembled dolls. He can stop me from selling any by simply making sure no one buys any. With God as my enemy and a force that’s a million times more powerful than anyone in this world, I don’t stand a chance if he stands against me.

I know God views, judges and treats us all differently. Some of us he hates, some of us he likes, some of us he loves. I think the only way he’d truly love me would be if I did everything I didn’t want to do. If I ate things I didn’t like, wore clothes I didn’t like, and did things I didn’t like. But whenever I can help it and get some say in the matter, it’s not going to happen.

I don’t have to sit and guess or wonder if he’d have the courts punish anyone who beat, raped or killed me. I know the answer to that. He wouldn’t just let them get away with it, he’d reward them with all kinds of wonderful things in life. If a person with an average life harmed me like that, all of a sudden they’d be winning the lottery, getting the job promotions, getting lucky in love and they’d have virtually no health problems. They would have the willpower to quit smoking or lose weight if they wanted to.

Saturday, June 15, 2002

Now that’s a writer who learned her lesson the hard way. The woman who founded American Atheists had a magazine in which she used to slander someone she fired. It got her shot and killed, so maybe this will make some people think first.

I know I could never be a writer. Not the kind that writes about people in papers and magazines. Too many sensitives out there. Besides, slandering people would be required of me. That’s what the media is all about - bashing people they don’t even know to entice the public. Well, to me, it wouldn’t be worth the risk of pissing off the wrong person and getting killed.

I’ve got to wonder, didn’t the person who decided they knew me well enough to write a whole big article on me consider this possibility? Do they ever consider it?

Tom will be home in an hour or two and then we’ll order the dolls and get the chase on. As for Joy - fuck it. I’m either there to get her or I’m not cuz I’m letting my schedule go in a day or two. If I’d known she was going to be this late, I wouldn’t have held my schedule back in the first place.

We may switch to AOL cuz they’re having a deal that could save us $100 over the next year. I also want a new screen name. From now on, I’m only Dawn to Mary, who’s Moon to me. That’s her nickname. I think I’ll be ratlady1204.

Tom explained to me what he meant when he said he just wanted to see that I got help at the sentencing hearing, but it makes no sense to me. He said that as a last-minute thing, he thought his reminding the judge about Helen and my willingness to see Helen might save me from jail time, but as soon as it was our turn to talk, I knew that the judge decided long before we even stepped in that courtroom to throw the book at me, so to speak. I don’t know how Tom thought that kissing up to the judge would suddenly change his mind. Even if the black bitch herself had come out and said, “You know, this really isn’t fair. After all, me and my associates are the ones that started this shit, and in a sense, we asked for anything we got from her. We harassed her and her husband, we lied, we exaggerated the truth, and besides, she doesn’t deserve punishment for anything she’s done anyway,” the judge still would’ve had it in for me. Once the people on the opposing side have made up their minds about you, that’s the way it stays, no matter what new evidence may be brought forth later on.

As I learned…No, honesty is not always the best policy. No, the truth does not always set us free. No, being cooperative (seeking Helen’s help) does not always help us. It all comes down to who has the power and the control, and what they want done.

I hope by now Mary’s learned a few lessons of her own; that sometimes you have to put your foot down, and to hell with it if people call you a bitch or stingy or confrontational.

Other than that, we’re just going to relax for our 8th anniversary and go out to a buffet on Monday.

I’m sure the cheeks will wake me up next week.

It’s only been an hour since I ate and I’m already starving. I want to wait two more hours, though. I’m spacing the 5 times I eat with 3-hour intervals. I had nearly 3000 calories yesterday, so I gained back one of the 4 pounds I lost. The plan is to diet over the weekend, then on Tuesday, I’ll decide whether or not I want to keep going with it. I doubt I will, though. I’ll probably just eat my way up to 125, then cut my calories till I get back down to 120. Then repeat the whole process.

Later…

Tom got in around noon, ate his lunch, then we ordered the dolls. We went to do it online but weren’t sure about ordering the dolls at the same time we ordered the membership. We felt it best to talk to someone so we could specify what coupons we wanted to use on what dolls. So, because Tom has a hard time understanding Chinese accents, I called and placed the order. Both Carmencita and Murganah will be $30 instead of $40 since we bought the $20 membership package which is good for a year. The Fairy of Cork will be the full price of $25. I don’t need to use the two free shipping coupons cuz I automatically get free shipping as it is for ordering over $99 worth of stuff. It totals $105 altogether. As Tom said, though, we can use the coupons on cheaper dolls.

I was surprised when she told me Murganah and the Fairy of Cork were out of stock. I really thought that if anyone was out of stock, it’d be Carmencita. So we’ll have to have them put a trace on Carmencita in a month, and Murganah and the Fairy of Cork will arrive late, but without any problems.

So, overall my life is good, even though the freeloaders are in it and Teddy Bear’s not.

Sunday, June 16, 2002

So, Scot, you gonna come wake me up this week? Well, you’re not coming tomorrow afternoon. That much I do know. That’s when we’ll be out. We decided to go to Red Lobster, then to a new bookstore to see what dollmaking books or magazines they may have.

I dreamt of Teddy Bear last night. I still hurt over her blowing me off. Not to the point where I’m shedding tears, but I wish I didn’t have to think of her every day. I’d ask God for help, but I know better. He wants me to think about her and hurt over her. My pain is his pleasure.

I ask myself “what if” questions a lot. Like, would I want to continue living if Tom died if I had all the money in the world? Definitely not, but if I did, would I seek out women? Definitely not. I would know better. Women were never meant to be unless they were settlements, or short-term if they weren’t. I was meant to be a man’s woman, but this doesn’t mean I’d go seeking out men, either. I would stay by myself.

Some people believe we meet the spirits of those we knew in life after we die, which is something I always dreaded since I don’t care to reunite with 99% of those I’ve known. However, the idea’s a bit more appealing if it’d reunite me with Teddy Bear so I could ask her what happened.

Maybe this is more my fault than hers. Maybe if I hadn’t been dumb enough to believe she was really attracted to me and wanted to get together with me, I wouldn’t be hurt like this.

I’m gonna be checking out a new series based on the 1984 movie The Dead Zone about a guy who wakes up from a 6-year coma with second sight.

I finally learned who made Bailey. The name Laura Palt was painted on the back of her neck, but that’s just the person who fired, painted and assembled her for sale such as I want to do. I was looking at a picture of a Donna Rupert doll named Bailey that was done up in an Indian slip. Although she had dark hair and eyes, I studied the picture and noted that the pouty expression was the same and so were the hands and the facial shape and features. She was also a 24”. I asked Tom his opinion and he agreed it was Bailey, too. I couldn’t tell if it was a sitting or standing doll, but that wouldn’t matter. Any legs could be assembled. Anyway, it’s nice to learn that your favorite doll was created by your favorite artist. I just may get her molds too, and give her a dark versioned twin sister.

Monday, June 17, 2002

Right on with the breakage bullshit. The AC crapped out on us today, though sometimes it was kind of working. Better that than our water or power.

Red Lobster was out of lobster so I settled on a broiled combo platter of shrimp scampi, scrod, scallops and crab cakes. It was rather overpriced for such skimpy portions, but filling enough when combined with the baked potato, the salad and the biscuits.

Tom got a cheeseburger with fries.

Some little kid screamed its lungs out for a while there, too. I don’t know why in the world parents bring their kids to restaurants before they’re at least 5 years old.

We looked online some more at kilns. We may be able to get a decent one for about $300, rather than $600-$800.

I still want that bike too, but I don’t know. He’d never use it and I know it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference in my looks. I could exercise 8 hours a day, but as long as I’m not willing to continually cut my calories day after day after day, I’ll never be thin. It takes constant starvation, during and after you’ve arrived at your goal weight. Why lose weight I’ll only gain back? Even if I could snap my fingers and be 100-110, I’d only be back in the 120s in a few weeks.

I’ll never allow myself to eat just anytime I want to, though. I’d never stop gaining if I did.

After Red Lobster, we went to a bookstore in search of dollmaking stuff. We found a magazine called Doll Crafter and may subscribe to that and others. It also lists places that sell supplies in each state. Both Dolls, Bears & Surprises and JBS Dolls were listed.

I’m seriously beginning to think something’s wrong with Joy. Tom says he hopes there is so we can get a discount.

But how am I gonna make dolls if I’m so cursed with them?

Anyway, Tom got himself a computer book, then we hit Walgreens for hair dye. I was going to go dark brown but decided on ruby twilight once Tom pointed out how cool-looking the color was which I totally agreed upon. I didn’t do so good a job, though. Amazingly enough, one box was enough for all this hair, but I didn’t cover it too evenly. It still looks cool this way and more natural. The red is brighter and more vivid on my scalp than on the other parts, but it’s still a nice change. A nice dark, yet intense red. Nothing like Teddy Bear’s was.

Guess you wouldn’t find me so attractive now, would you, Teddy Bear?

Maybe she never really did in the first place.

Anyway, it was $4 and there was a 50¢ coupon enclosed for if I want to get more sometime. I printed out some pictures I took of it for Mary and Paula. Believe it or not, my face doesn’t look as big as I thought it would, but I’m no skinny-mini. You can see those hips of mine just fine. I’m pearing out and losing my hourglass shape. Where did these hips and tits come from, I wonder? They took nearly 30 years to show up.

So, Tom and I grabbed some drinks, and before we sweated on back home, Tom shocked the shit out of me by suggesting we both bleach our hair blond and then surprise Mom, Mary and Dave with it! Now that would be a sight to see. I never thought Tom would ever dye his hair. He looks good with the gray. You know how it is - gray hair makes a man distinguished-looking while it makes a woman look older. But I never thought he’d care to dye his hair. I always figured I’d look just as shitty as a blond as I did with it black, but we’ll see. If we end up hating it that much, we can always dye over it, but if I go blond, then I could streak colors in my hair. I’d probably use the violet in contrast to the blond in that case.

If Scot comes this week - let me guess - it’ll be Thursday. Yeah, that’s another popular day for him. It’s like he wants to get an idea if he’ll be seeing me the next day or not.

I’m only holding my schedule till Friday, whether or not Joy comes. If I can’t be there to get her, then I can’t. Meanwhile, Tom can ask the questions and Jade’s shoes can wait.

Tuesday, June 18, 2002

No Scot, no Joy. Tom thinks she’ll be in next week and I think something’s wrong. If she is, I won’t be able to get her with Tom cuz I’ll be on nights.

the cheeks will probably see me Thursday, if not, then who knows when? Maybe he’ll start coming around less now that I’m over the halfway marker. I wonder if he’ll come twice next January like he did last January, though common sense ought to tell him that if I’ve been dumb enough to be suckered into sticking this shit out this long, then there’s a damn good chance I’ll stick with it to the finish line. The finish line that I hope exists, I should say.

Something woke me up at 6:45 this morning, though I went back to sleep. I don’t know what it was. It was a thump of some kind. Actually, it sounded like a door closing somewhere, but Tom didn’t even get in till noon. I was too tired to get up and check it out.

I tell you, I’ve been woken up here more than in the Phoenix house. Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn’t go back to sleeping with the fan on high. As Tom said, though, here it’s easier to go back to sleep. Yeah, but still, why do I feel like I’m being punished for living in a house I’m not supposed to be living in?

And is it really a wise idea for me to delve into this dollmaking thing? If I really am cursed in that department, I’d have an awfully hard time trying to work in a business that already seems quite complicated enough. I don’t know, I still think it’s easier not to bother, as much as I want to. If I don’t bother to try, then I can’t be disappointed over failing, can I? And I still can’t imagine being able to suddenly do what I want with my time in that sort of way.

I should’ve applied the same rule to Teddy Bear, followed my head and not my heart, told myself she wasn’t meant to be and that I’d never see her on the outs anyway, so just forget it and don’t even bother with her.

I can’t believe how many dreams I’ve had pertaining to this woman! When that thump woke me up I had been dreaming of her. This time around we had a kid together somehow, and she was on a phone somewhere, telling someone I had the baby.

Wednesday, June 19, 2002

Yesterday, Jamie called from JBS while I was online, telling me to call her. I didn’t get the message until after the store closed. I called her when I got up at 10:00 today and she said she wanted to know whether or not to ship her to our PO Box or if we were going to come get her. I told her we’d come and get her. She’ll be in on Monday, she said, so we’ll either pick her up in the morning when they first open or the late afternoon.

Judging by what she said, we’re beginning to think Chari’s molds aren’t available and that she was mass-produced. Our timing really sucks, though, cuz Chari’s on sale now for $120. Then, as soon as she changes the tags, Chari will go back to the usual $209 and they’re gonna have a buy-one-get-one-free deal as long as the doll is of equal or lesser value. Damn! If we’d only waited a little while longer to order Joy.

Later…

I did some homework of my own and managed to find a site that sells Chari’s SFGW (soft-fired greenware) which is what we want to start with. But how would I find her black dress? If I can find her dress, then maybe I won’t get her from JBS, after all. Besides, we can’t come up with $120-$209 by Monday.

Thursday, June 20, 2002

No pre-reporting visit from the cheeks. I asked Tom if he thinks he’ll mention the classes tomorrow. He says no. Let’s hope he doesn’t! Like I said, one of these days I’m gonna surprise myself and do what I want in life. Not what others or fate tell me to do.

Got two letters from Mary. She wrote one last Saturday, then another on Sunday. Both were postmarked Monday the 17th, the day we were out (ain’t it funny how only Paula can’t seem to get mail to me?).

She agreed to take me up on my card-making offer, so as she requested, I chose a floral design (a bushel of roses on the front) and then printed what she wanted to say on the front cover, then on both the inside covers.

An address label company sent me several labels of various designs, so she’ll be seeing those. Paula will get a couple of them at some point, too.

You know, she really is by far the best pen pal I ever had. I thanked her so very much for writing as often as she does. She’s also making sure to answer my questions so I don’t go thinking she didn’t get the letter. I’m glad I have her for a friend and that I didn’t walk away like I considered doing.

She says she’s getting along better with Dope, as we call her, saying that at times she gets on Mary’s nerves for ignoring her, as she puts it. She’s standing firm against spending any more money on her. She didn’t show her what I wrote about her, so she doesn’t have to deal with her reaction. Yes, I know good and well that’s not something Dope could handle well. It’s ok, I told her, I was just venting on her behalf. Maybe she’ll want to give it to her in the future, like right before she leaves if she leaves first.

I’ll bet she must really wish we were cellies again now! No thanks, though. I’d rather be Tom’s celly here.

She said she was crushed to read that she abused her kids in the article I sent her from the net. I told her that I know she didn’t abuse her kids and so does she, and not to let the ways of the media get to her. It’s their job to make up lies and make people look bad. It should be illegal to slander people the way they do, but unfortunately, if you’re part of the media, you can say anything you want about anybody. They could’ve said I killed a dozen people and there wouldn’t have been anything I could’ve done about it. As Misery said, “The media’s never your friend.”

Nonetheless, I’m sorry the bullshit article upset her. I considered not sending it but then decided that since she did ask for whatever I could find, I’d send it, cuz she and I both know the truth. As an abused child myself, it’s all the easier for me to sense an abuser. They should’ve printed that she “pled guilty to neglect,” and not that she “pled guilty to abuse,” but see? That’s the media; always twisting things around.

As for this parole thing, I’m not sure what she’s talking about. She said something about being bummed out about them taking away 85% of the parole. I don’t understand that part of the law too well, nor can I even begin to guess how many years she’ll do, as I told her. I asked Tom if like me, and like most cases, if her plea bargaining was a mistake. He agrees with her, though, and says that if it’ll help put Monster in his place, then no it wasn’t. I told her that although I can’t say how many years she’ll get, be prepared and don’t be surprised if she gets many years of probation at some point. I reminded her that the system’s not about “justice” 99% of the time. It’s about power, control and money. The more people they can get and keep on probation, and for as long as possible, the more money they make. I asked Tom if he thought they’d have her on probation for life, and he says he doubts it cuz that’s usually for those convicted of sex crimes. It also depends on the state you’re in, too. I’m sure I don’t have to remind her of how different Arizona is compared to Massachusetts, though I did fill her in on Paula’s latest case.

Another thing I’ve learned, and which I told her about, is that no, honesty is not always the best policy, and no, cooperation doesn’t always help us. In other words, she can hope her good behavior helps, but I wouldn’t count on it. It’s going to depend on who’s got the leverage, what they think of her, etc. There are a lot of factors involved, and of course, life isn’t fair most of the time. Some may feel my way of thinking is negative, but to me, after all I’ve seen, heard and been through, I think it’s realistic, depressing or not. I just don’t think we should kid ourselves, is all. It’s best to hope for the best but to expect the worst. That way, one won’t get so disappointed in the end if things don’t go well.

I sent her the pictures of my hair dyed ruby red and told her that Tom suggested we bleach our hair in a month or two.

I asked her why she was on the bottom bunk this time. I know she always used to be up top whenever she could so she wouldn’t have to worry as much about getting moved. Maybe Dope was on top first. I hated the lower bunk in that cell cuz of the light right outside the door, but I also didn’t want my head by the desk right where the person above me would be climbing up and down.

She says the only DOs there that I knew are Misery and Pérez, and of course, she hasn’t seen Pérez. She says Misery’s the same old Misery, making her take shit off the walls. Then, just like with me, she shocked Mary by being nice and not bothering her with shit like that.

Boy, they really move those DOs around just like the inmates! Tom says they do it so they can’t have time to set up drug deals and other illegal activities.

I asked her if she’s ever had a crush on a DO, and if she had to do it with one of them, who would it be? Make it someone I knew too, I told her, so I can know who she was talking about. It’ll be interesting to see if it’s who I think it is (Teddy Bear). I also asked her if she’s ever been attracted to another inmate.

She liked the dolls, agreeing that Bailey’s the best. She liked Chris’s wings and Ciara’s gown.

She said she’d tell me more about James’s case sometime. That’d be nice. Also, knowing more of the details pertaining to both James and Gretchen might help us guess a little better as to what the outcome may be.

I wish Pérez would get back there so she can see if she got my letter or not.

Even more so, I wish Teddy Bear would get back there. She’s my only hope of finding out why she blew me off, but with my shit luck, she won’t return till after she’s gone. Also, there’s a chance Teddy Bear may not discuss it with her. Or maybe she’ll lie about it. If the real reason was cuz she’s seeing someone, she may just tell her that she simply decided it’d be best not to see each other.

If only she knew just how much I loved her and just how much she hurt me! I wonder how she’d feel about it. Probably not much. After all, I’m sure I’ve been the farthest thing from her mind since I left. I’m sure she rarely thinks of me.

I get by okay most of the time, but sometimes I still hurt pretty bad over her dumping me the way she did. Not just that, of course, but the not even calling to say thanks, but no thanks. Not even a simple little explanation. Nothing. It’s like she never existed and I never existed for her.

For a while there, I considered writing Helen a letter, explaining that I know I’m not her patient anymore, but could she give me advice on how to deal with this better and maybe get over her faster? I was going to tell her that it’s not like I’m not functioning or like I’m sitting around bawling my eyes out for hours at a time, it’s just that she’s always on my mind. I go to read and I’m suddenly distracted by a memory of her, then I refocus and begin to read more, till the thought of us getting it on distracts me once again.

After all, Helen has helped me in the past, like with understanding other possibilities concerning Tom’s dry dick, and in dealing with my anger over the freeloaders, not that they still don’t infuriate me cuz they do. I’m sure anyone else would feel this way too, if they were in my shoes. I’ll never be “okay” with what they’ve done to me.

Anyway, when I asked Tom’s opinion about it, he said it’d be rude to ask for free advice from her just because she’s a nice person, and after thinking about it, I see that he’s right. He said if I wanted to make an appointment, that’d be ok, but no thanks. I’m not that hard up for help. Besides, hasn’t enough money been spent on the freeloaders? I don’t need to start losing money over Teddy Bear, too.

I guess this is just one of those cases where time heals all wounds, but when? When??? In a few months? A few years? Never? When is she going to just go away? Just fade away and become an old memory that doesn’t surface much more often than Norah M from the Harley Hotel (the bitchy English supervisor I had a crush on)? She too, played with my head, saying she’d come visit me. Then, after I asked her about it, she was like, “No, I’m your supervisor and I’m scared of Springfield.”

She really couldn’t have told me this up front?

Anyway, I’m never going to get the closure that’d help me deal with this, which would be a phone call or a letter from Teddy Bear explaining why she did what she did, so I’ll just have to deal with it. Just have to wait it out and hope for the best.

Later…

Although I highly doubt Teddy Bear will return to Estrella while Mary’s still there, anything’s possible, so I decided that rather than have Mary tell her how I feel, I’ll do it myself. I’m going to type her a letter, then send it to Mary to give to her if God forbid she ever does see her.

Friday, June 21, 2002

Sure enough, the birds and the prairie dogs are happily sifting through the rat’s bedding that I just dumped out in the wash.

Tom was right. No mention of the classes. Mr. Serious himself was a bit looser today. A bit more talkative. Last time, it was like he was either in a bad mood, not feeling well, or tired. First we were held up by some mouthy dude who might as well have been coming to chat with an old buddy rather than his PO. This guy swore more than I do, too. When it was finally my turn to give him my form, he asked what was up and we told him about the car AC that crapped out on us.

See? Right on schedule. Can’t go more than 3-4 months without something expensive breaking. It’s a good thing Tom had that $500 from the stock money away to cover it. He better replace it too, as soon as he can so that we’re covered for the next thing that’ll break around September.

I mentioned looking forward to picking up Joy on Monday and getting class info.

When he asked if there were any changes, I said, “No. Well, actually, there is a change. You just haven’t noticed.”

Tom giggled at that point, then he noticed my hair and I said, “Yeah, I did a half-assed job, but I tried.”

Wait till he sees us both as bleached blondes!

Anyway, I was fucking sweating my ass off on the drive in and I thought the mister I brought along with me was broken. As Tom discovered right when we got there, the rubber ring had slipped to the side and just needed to be straightened out. That mister’s a real lifesaver, though. My heart was pounding just like it always does when I get overheated.

Anyway, he’s talking about either renting an air pump or borrowing one from work to convert the fucking thing so he can recharge it himself.

The weekend, which always seems to go too fast as long as the freeloaders are still in our lives, is going to go awfully slow this time around. That’s cuz we’ll be getting Joy Monday and I can’t wait! I think Tom’s gonna have to get her himself what with the way my schedule is now. Tomorrow, for the first time in over a month, I’m not setting the alarm!

The freeloaders wouldn’t let poor Tom sleep today. He didn’t get to bed till 10:00, then I woke him up at 1:00. If I’d known he didn’t get to sleep till that late, I wouldn’t have gotten him up till 3:00.

Anyway, at first I thought Tom couldn’t pick shoes out for Jade by himself, but it really wouldn’t be so hard for him. All he has to do is choose either a pair of plain white sneakers or sandals of some kind. If the shoes aren’t suitable for her, I’ll just use them on someone else.

Speaking of Jade, now that I’m getting to learn more about dolls, I made a discovery that both Tom and I laughed at. That 25” green-eyed Jade doll I like is my exact same Jade doll. They make her molds in either 25” or 32” like mine is, just like you can get Joy at either 19” or 26” like I’m getting.

They also have series depicting the same doll at different ages. There are a few dolls, Bailey being one of them, that have 3 different versions. There’s baby Bailey at 20”, then there’s my toddler Bailey at 24”, and sweet sixteen Bailey at 29”. I like the “Shay” series and I hope to have it someday.

Sometimes I can’t even decipher my own notes. A couple of lines down from where I’m actually typing, I like to list notes of the topics I wish to write about. Well, I’ve got the word slow written and I can’t figure out what the hell I meant by that. I’m like, what’s slow?

We both totally, totally mean it this time - we will never ever, ever go into another Dairy Queen as long as we live! Aaarrrggghhh! Those stupid, stupid Mexicans! I’m so sick of them and their stupidity and living in Little Mexico like this. Naturally, Tom insists it has nothing to do with people’s nationality, but I’m sorry, the bulk of them are either evil or downright dumb and illiterate.

We go in there and one of the two gigantic young and dumb Mexicans gives me the burger and fries I ask for in a reasonable amount of time. Shortly afterward comes my blizzard which is filled so full that ice cream’s slopping over its edges. The Mexie was too stupid to understand when I asked her to put the cup in its cover instead of trying to cover the top of the fucking thing and make even more of a mess. I don’t know if she had a problem with English or if she was just stupid, but I’m sure it was a combination of both. Meanwhile, Tom’s waiting and waiting for his own blizzard till he finally gets fed up and says, “Hey, look. He’s getting the same thing I ordered and you’ve served 5 others after I ordered.”

So the Mexie runs and makes him his blizzard, then he goes, “And then they don’t even fill it up.” And they didn’t. He got a large and I got a small, but between them not filling his and them overfilling mine, we ended up with the same amount.

I’m so sick of these stupid Mexicans, though. Sick of them! If they’d just get at least a high school diploma, instead of dropping out in 8th grade to join gangs, get high and spit out kids as fast as popcorn popping, maybe they wouldn’t be so fucking dumb. And goddamnit! This is America. We speak English here. I’m all for learning other languages, but if we’re gonna be dumb enough ourselves to let them keep pouring into this country, shouldn’t they at least have the decency to learn our fucking language if we’re gonna be forced to live together?!

I tacked a flag up to cover the skylight. It looks kind of cool with the light shining through the iris flag I chose, but we really could use a shade for it. It doesn’t cover it all, either. The skylight’s a few inches longer. Not as wide, though, so I folded it a bit.

I can’t pull any jokes on Tom to save my life, though as he admitted, it was a good try. It’s mostly because he knows I’m a little prankster and a joker. I tried to tell him that Lizzie Borden, who was accused and acquitted of axing her father and stepmother in Fall River, MA in 1892, was my great, great grandmother.

In truth, I don’t know when any of my grandparents were born, let alone when their parents were born. I don’t even know their names.

Tom knew that Lizzie Borden never had kids, and told me that if I had said she was a great, great aunt, then he may’ve bought the story.

Saturday, June 22, 2002

I was up 20 hours yesterday and slept for 10. Not without waking up several times in between for no reason. Once, I did have to pee, though.

Those freeloaders ran poor Tom ragged yesterday. He came home early from work yesterday, cuz he just couldn’t cut it on a few measly hours of sleep.

After having a dream that Teddy Bear was reconsidering calling me, there was a private hang-up a little while ago. I know it wasn’t her, though. She’d have left a message. It was just God teasing me with a few seconds’ worth of hope.

He’s so, so cruel to have let me fall for this woman on top of being thrown in jail. You know, we rarely get sales calls at this number, but during the two days after I sent the letter, there were a few of them. No doubt something up there wanting to tease me.

I can see, though, how seeing Teddy Bear may’ve only made things harder had we gotten together. I could’ve really ended up being torn between her and Tom, and if I had been dumb enough to choose her, it could’ve ended up ruining my life in all kinds of ways if things didn’t work out in the end.

Why oh why, then, did we ever have to meet? And if we did, why did she have to mean anything more to me than Palma or Pérez ever did?

I guess it’s a gender thing, too. More often than not, guys get too clingy while women blow people off.

I didn’t think to save a copy of my letter to Teddy Bear, so I’ve been trying to remember everything I wrote, asking myself if it could’ve gotten her in trouble. I don’t see how or why it would, but anything’s possible. It’s got to be either someone she met or something I said. What else could it be? Maybe it’s both. If it is something I wrote, then she’s more than likely going to always resent me for it. It’s not like she’d ever get over it, forgive me, then call me up to see how I’ve been, saying she had to deal with some personal problems or that she was just too busy to call right away.

She wouldn’t call if it was someone else either after they broke up or something. I mean, what’s she gonna say? That she couldn’t call right away cuz she had a girlfriend and now that they broke up she’d just love to see me?

Oh, Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, how do I ever get over you??? How would she feel if she suddenly could know how much I loved her and how much I’m hurting over her? If this is still going on in a few months from now, maybe I’ll have to see Helen, though I don’t want to. We already spent a fortune on the freeloaders and we’re still doing so, so I don’t want to spend a fortune, even if it’s a much smaller one, on Teddy Bear.

I turned to Tom earlier and said, “You said this would happen, my falling in love with a woman. Well, please, please tell me it’ll never happen again!!! Loving you is enough. I don’t need to ever go through this shit again!”

Especially since I know nothing would ever come of it. She’d either play with my head or circumstances would prevent us from ever getting together.

Again, I have no regrets about meeting and marrying Tom, but why was it so important that I be fated to be a man’s woman, never to have the woman of my dreams? I mean, Kacey and Anne Marie came close, though Kacey was much closer. But if I compare Kacey to Teddy Bear, there’s no comparison. Kacey was an all-out settlement compared to her.

I’d have done things differently if I’d known Teddy Bear was going to blow me off. I’d either have not bothered to write, or I’d have written a totally different letter, in case that was it. I’d just be brief and to the point, telling her I was fine, I hoped she was too, and that I had some pet mice for her if she was interested.

Or maybe I’d tell her why I was there and let her know that the only reason we met was that I was Jewish and I complained on the wrong person with the wrong connections, as I said in the letter I’m sending to Mary. Then, while I could never know why she dumped me, she could at least know why I was really there.

Later…

The sun’s about halfway up now. Not a cloud in the sky out there. It feels like it hasn’t rained in ages. It’s been months, and June is the driest month in Arizona. It’s been an unusually dry winter, though. I wonder if the monsoons will be as wimpy as they were last summer, or as fierce as they were the summer before that. That would’ve been the summer of 2000, our first summer here.

I think I’ll look into getting a coffee bean grinder. Fresh-ground coffee is supposed to taste much better.

Tom said he might streak his hair after he bleaches it, then shave it off. He changed his mind, though, saying he has too many ugly moles to shave his hair. This was nice to hear cuz bald is ugly if you ask me. I hate that bald look.

I had Tom take off my shower brush and put my old shower massager back on. There’s just not enough water pressure out here to make the brush spin fast enough. In order to put enough pressure on the brush with my hand to scrub myself better, I’d have to stop the brush’s rotation. I also missed the small sharp, steady stream my old one puts out, leaving me room to step back out of the water in order to lather my hair. The other one sprayed too wide and I didn’t have any room to lather up in.

Tom and I were talking about different things, things we both agreed on, believe it or not. Here’s a classic example of how God lets some people get away with murder. Literally. From 1968-1970, a serial killer was on the loose in the southwest. He was known as the zodiac killer. Well, serial killers can’t stop, but this one did. He wrote tons of letters to the press and police, too. We think that the reason a serial killer suddenly “stops” is cuz he dies or is incarcerated for something else. He could’ve gotten caught, tried and convicted of arson or robbery or something.

We also agree that the end of the world, which probably won’t be in our time, won’t be caused by natural disasters or diseases. It’ll be either war or technology that’ll kill all the people. Right now we have bombs that can only kill thousands. Well, as soon as we get bombs that can kill millions, the world will be doomed if everybody doesn’t go bombing and shooting everybody up at once. People are crazy like that. There are tons of people who’d gladly kill themselves and take as much of the world along with them as possible.

Monday, June 24, 2002

Tom left a memo saying he’d be home by 10:00 PM, but now it’s coming up on 1:00. It seems I spend more time waiting for this man to come home than anything else. I don’t see much of him lately. He’s either at work or asleep. He was going to stop at his mother’s, then head on to work from there.

No, I don’t think he’s having an affair, not that I’d care as long as they used protection. You know Tom, though - nothing turns him on and everything turns him off. He’s just not big on sex any more than some of us are big on spicy foods, so no, I don’t think he’s getting it on with anyone.

The reason I wish he’d hurry up and get home is so he can go to sleep. That way, since I’ve been up since 9:30 (I missed my new show), we could go get Joy when the store first opens, and he could be well-rested.

Later…

Tom came in right as I was finishing my last sentence. He went to bed after telling me a funny story about Dave, and we’re still going to get Joy together tomorrow. We’ll leave at 7:45, stop at Circle K for a snack and some coffee, then get to the store when they open at 9:00.

Anyway, Dave received an email from a relative in New York and a picture of his sister Tammy. Dave was like, “You mean my cousin Tammy?” But as it would turn out, his father was whoring around on the side and so he’s got 4 siblings he never knew about.

I guess they thought it was me playing a joke on them at first cuz the sister supposedly sounds just like me. They’ve talked on the phone and sent an email back and forth.

Then Tom had to go and piss me off after I said I’d sic my sister Tammy’s local pigs on her if she called ma’s to get to me. He didn’t actually piss me off, but his attitude really irks me. He was like, “Why would you want to start trouble? You gotta disassociate yourself from people.”

But sometimes people won’t let us disassociate ourselves from them, and he of all people should know this. Not even moving can disassociate us from our enemies at times! I tried yet again to tell him that sometimes you just gotta fight back. We’re in the mess we’re in today because we didn’t. Instead, he just wants to bury his head in the sand, defend the perpetrators right after agreeing that what happened to me wasn’t fair, not fight back, and basically just kid himself about the whole thing. I’ll bet he did the same thing with his family as he did with Paula and made me out to be the villain.

What I wonder about Tom is when is it ever appropriate to fight back? We got taken by contractors for thousands and he let it go, I got thrown in jail and he’s gonna let that go, too. I know he is. He’s not gonna seek future revenge on anyone responsible for what happened to me. He just says that to try and make me feel better, then he says he won’t tell me what he has in mind cuz the less I know, the better off we’ll be. He isn’t gonna do shit to them. He simply isn’t the type. One of us could be paralyzed in a car accident that wasn’t our fault and he still wouldn’t fight back. Probably not even if I were killed. Wouldn’t do him any good anyway. God would only protect my murderer.

On the other hand, what good would it do me to call Tammy’s local pigs? It’s New England, remember? They’ll just tell me what they did when I tried that on Larry out of spite; that they’re so far away, so I shouldn’t worry. Then they might tell me they’ll call them just to get me off their backs, but I know they won’t. That’s just not Arizona where you can call up a pig, tell them so-and-so gave you a dirty look, and watch them go flying after them like a bat out of a hell.

It’s a family thing, I guess, as far as others fucking them over. They hope it doesn’t happen, but when it does they just live with it.

I can sort of understand, though. Meaning that if the freeloaders suddenly decided to call and threaten me, I wouldn’t “fight back.” I wouldn’t bother telling Scot and I certainly wouldn’t run to the pigs about it. What good would it do me and who would believe me anyway? I’m white.

We put the grille back up in the skylight to avoid some of the direct sun/heat.

Tuesday, June 25, 2002

So it took 38 days to get Joy, and she is beautiful! Very realistic looking. More so than Bailey and Jade. Especially the hands. I’ve never ever seen such realistic and detailed-looking hands! With the exception of her eyes, which are kind of squinted and half-shut cuz of her huge smile, she’s better than Bailey and Jade. They fibbed when they said she was 26”, though. She’s more like 24½. I didn’t need to get her a stand. She’s using a stand I had.

Right now she’s on the TV, cuz of her pose. I didn’t realize she was looking downward as well as to the side, so in order to see her face better, it’s best that she be up a little higher. I’ll eventually put her on a shelf by the bed. Then she can look down at me while I read. Or maybe I’ll put her in the office.

Amazingly, I put together an outfit for her in under 20 minutes. I took some old material consisting of large pink and blue splotches, wrapped the material under her arms and around in back, then pinned it. The only sewing I did was the hem. Then I rolled some material and put it across her upper arms where her arms move and you can see down to the armature, wrapping it around the backs of her arms and pinning it. Not bad at all for a fast, sloppy put-together. The colors go great with her coloring and she looks great in an off-the-shoulder outfit. Especially since her chin nearly rests on her shoulder.

She has a different mouth mold. As I read, you can do the mouth differently after you’ve cut out the space for the mouth. In the pictures I saw of her, she had both upper and lower teeth showing, but my Joy only has upper teeth showing. It looks great either way.

I also got shoes and socks for Jade. White, closed-toed sandals and white socks with pink trim. If it weren’t for Jamie I’d have gotten shoes too small. I was gonna get 95 mm shoes, but she really needed 105 mm shoes. They’re a little big on her, but it’s easier to get the shoes on over the socks this way and it makes her feet look bigger and more proportioned. I always thought her feet were too small for her body. Hers and Bailey’s are the same size, yet Bailey is 8” shorter.

The classes are going to cost more than we thought they would, and Tom won’t be able to sit in and watch. Jamie said that’s mainly cuz there’s no room. After adding up the cost of the doll (not a cheap piece of shit) and all the other stuff, like the supplies, it’ll run us around $250, and according to her, I may need to do 3 or 4 dolls with them before I really get the hang of it. She said it takes hours just to clean the greenware. They have about 10 classes, each one 2.5 hours long, and it takes a couple of classes just to clean the greenware. I was surprised to learn this.

She said they recommend starting with Sugar Britches, a sleeping baby, but I don’t know. I need to learn to cut/set eyes.

She also told me that if I wanted to avoid the expense of a kiln, they charge $5 for soft firing and $10 for a long firing. Kilns aren’t as easy to use as a regular oven either. You don’t just stick the stuff in it. It has to be set on special props. That’s this stuff that looks like batting, only it can withstand extreme temperatures.

I’ll have to call Dolls, Bears & Surprises and compare prices. Maybe they start with cheapies like those $40 Seymour Mann dolls. JBS’s classes are only $8.50. It’s the doll and supplies that are costly, but it’s still worth it to me. At least I’m pretty sure it is, though it still seems rather overwhelming to me. It seems there’s so much to learn, but if I can enjoy this and make a little money at it, it’ll be worth the struggle. It’s too bad Tom can’t sit in. I had hoped he could so he could help me with anything I may forget or not understand. But I’m a quick learner with a great memory, so I’ll get by.

Not that I’m having any thoughts about reuniting with Andy, but I wonder - am I a horrible person for abandoning him like I did despite our growing differences? I suppose most people would say that I am and that I wasn’t a true friend any more than Jenny C was when she decided she could be my friend through the thick, but not the thin.

Another thing I wonder is whether or not Teddy Bear’s ignoring me is my punishment for dumping Andy. I don’t know, somehow I think it would’ve happened anyway under that not-meant-to-be rule.

Tom says he doesn’t think I’m a horrible person for doing what I did, and that I simply moved on like most people do.

Yes, I agree with him. When you think about it, how many people are in our lives for 10 or more years? Everybody moves on at some point and no one’s in our lives forever. At least, 99% of the people we meet aren’t. The only one that’ll be in my life forever is Tom. I’m sure I won’t always know Paula or Mary. I’m sure we’ll move on sooner or later.

Later…

I’ve been sleeping really weird lately. Due to the excitement of getting the doll, I slept for 8 hours but had been up 20 hours, so I was tired. Too tired to write, too tired to clean, too tired to work out. I was even too tired to shower, so I crashed for another 8 hours and ended up with 16 hours of sleep in an 18-hour period. This was after my schedule had shifted 14 hours in just 4 days.

Almost 2 hours after we got back with Joy, not that God would have him miss me, the cheeks popped in. Tom had just gone to bed and was too beat himself to hear him knock, which was good. Scot was in and out in a flash.

Good. That gets him out of my hair at home for a month or two. Still, the more I’m home and up when he comes by, the better. Answering the door as quickly as I can is a good thing, too. I wouldn’t want him getting paranoid and getting the wrong idea. I’ve suffered enough on account of others’ paranoia and misunderstanding of me. He’d suffer too, and I’d make sure of it, but I don’t need the hassle. I’ve had enough shit to deal with in my life. I still don’t see why I need to see him 3 times a month over a letter, but there are worse things in life, I suppose.

I’m still pretty sure Teddy Bear decided long before she got my letter that she was going to blow me off. Just the fact that she didn’t call by Christmas made me wonder about that, then when she didn’t call right before the letter, that made me wonder even more. No matter how professional I was, if I really liked someone that much, I’d have found an excuse to call her by Christmas, and if I switched jails, I’d want to let her know just in case the letter didn’t make it to me.

She never could’ve felt an eighth of what I felt for her. Even so, I wish to hell she’d return to Estrella before Mary leaves! I’m so, so curious to hear what she might have to say to Mary as far as why she did what she did, not that we could trust that she’s telling the truth. I could never trust her now. Not with the way she’s stood me up. I’d have to be a real fool to associate with her if she did one day call me.

But I am a fool. And I’m sure I’d jump right to any opportunity to see her, get to know her, get it on with her, etc.

Thursday, June 27, 2002

Two mice died, so now I’m down to just 3.

I was thinking about it, and you know, I really wish the guinea pig had lived after all. Now that I’ve got all the rats living together in the new cage, the old one would be ideal for a GP. I miss the sounds they make. The cage wouldn’t need shelves or even a roof, as long as I elevate the base by putting it on its stand. I’m sure I could get Tom to go for getting another one. Just one, though. Preferably a male, so we’ll know it can’t be pregnant.

I called DBS (Dolls, Bears & Surprises) yesterday, and so far, it looks like we may go with them. They’re closer and cheaper than JBS. Like JBS, they have the same amount of classes per doll - 10 classes, usually completed in 5 weeks. However, their classes are a buck cheaper at $7.50, and it’ll take about $150 to get started, $100 less than JBS. If I need to take a second set of classes and assemble another doll, it won’t cost me as much cuz I’ll already have the supplies. All I’ll need is to pick out another doll, and as I was told, I can choose any doll in the store I want. He says he has something like 480 dolls to choose from.

Tom and I discussed him taking classes too, since they’re cheaper here, and we’ll make totally different dolls so we can learn more at once.

Friday, June 28, 2002

Today’s Tom’s 45th birthday. I wish he were closer to my age since women are supposed to live longer than men. Maybe the years I smoked will make up for that, but I don’t know. He doesn’t work out. I do. I also eat healthier stuff.

By today the PO will have thrown Carmencita on a shelf and considered her an attempted delivery. That is if they haven’t given her to someone else.

Why can’t I order a doll and get it?!

Saturday, June 29, 2002

A group of about 4 of Tom’s employees got him some soda, a colorful birthday balloon, a card, and a credit card for up to $40 of food at the Olive Garden restaurant. That’s a lot of pasta!

He didn’t stop at the PO on his way to work tonight (last night), but that’s okay. I know my doll isn’t there, even though it is there. It’s just gonna have to sit there till we email PG on July 10th.

They have us rather confused right now. They were supposed to deduct 25% off of Carmencita and Murganah when I ordered them and bought a 1-year membership, but then they sent me certificates for 25% off of two dolls.

I am so done with this doll company after I fight for the 3 we ordered on our anniversary! So done with them! They may be cheap, but no thanks. Not if the fun’s gonna be spoiled with shit like this and with having to trace and fight for dolls. I’ll learn to make my own.

Got a makeshift letter from Mary yesterday. She was out of paper and envelopes. I decided to send her a sheet or two of blank paper whenever I write. I know how outrageous paper is in there - $1.50 for 50 sheets. Out in the real world, you can get so much paper for so little, so I don’t mind doing this at all.

I’m surprised she ran out of paper. She always has a ton of money in her account, and they don’t have a limit on how much paper per week you can order like they do with envelopes.

She also said something I didn’t quite get. Something about Justin’s trying to get into a funny farm, which means they’ll take her to prison in Florida.

But I thought she’d have to go to prison no matter where he ended up.

Anyway, she says she’s glad something will finally be happening and that she should know on July 22nd.

And I wish she’d stay there! Just long enough to give Teddy Bear my letter. God won’t have it, though, I know it. He’d never have her return while Mary was there. He wants us as done with each other as we have been since April 27th, 2001. Then why’d you have me fall in love with her, God??? Why’d I have to come to love her in the first place? To spice up my time there?

The sun, which is just now popping up from behind the mountain way off in the distance, looks so cool with clouds that make it seem red. It’s like this bright red fiery ball. Due to the clouds we’ve been having, I wonder if the monsoons aren’t making their way in. It’s a bit early, though most of June was typical - hot and dry without a cloud in the sky. I can tell just by the lack of static in my hair that there’s a higher level of humidity than normal.

[enigmaincrimson]

Just as a small reminder... Just because I seem to be inactive, doesn't mean I'm not lurking. I don't think too highly of myself and just feel reluctant approaching people. That and I tend to lose track if I don't hear back from anyone in awhile... I'm also easily distracted and terrible with name.

So um... Don't be afraid to send stuff whenever you guys and gals feel like it.

Right now, the desktop is down for thermal issues, I'm trying to get a ten year old laptop to run Linux, and the phone is losing support in a few months... It might not sound like much, but well... I depend on those things and replacing anything is kind of a luxury right now.

Okay, so I went off topic.

Still though, I am always worried that I might mess something up and everyone is going to get angry with me again, so I tend to be reluctant with making the first approach.

That and some of the verses need polish or a revamp... As they have some holes and glitches that aren't up to my standards as I kind of shot the first draft out there and things stalled out.

Still not sure if I'm happy with the verse layout either.

Sleeping patterns are a mess, I've forgotten what sleep feels like more times than I could count.

I really want to do something, but little niggly things that I'm still trying to fix tend to become big problems very easily around here.

Like... I've put off coming up with a proper peerage for the Highschool DxD verse for some time now... But it has the same issue with all the verse notes...

There's this pesky dance, where things have to be close enough to canon interactions that they have a reason to be involved with the main cast, but not so close so they interfere with events...

Like the RWBY verse has this problem. Sure, she'd have a reason to be at Beacon because of Pyrrha, but with both the school gone and her sibling no longer living, she's not going to stick around and follow Ruby and co everywhere.

She just kind of drifts off... Kind of like the Fairy Tail verse with the first time skip. Sure, she comes back when Erza does, but that's how she kind of is...

If also love to deal with the faceclaim issues, but... I don't feel comfortable trying until I am exactly sure what I want... Since it's going to be a complicated mess... With various strings attached. Others just come with complicated procedures that I just don't have the time for, so even if I did get things figured out, it just feels like I'm putting out more effort than they are willing to give back.

Besides, I already know that I'm considered the bad guy in multiple circles for reasons I don't understand and things that just don't make sense... And I'm worried I'll lose more people I know because of them.

So I usually sit here all day wondering how long I'll get to do anything without ending up being cut off... Usually over something that just doesn't make sense.

I'm sorry, okay?

[whoretan]

ARK 45 | 01

Summary: Actions have consequences and when your boss Jimin lets you know you'll be working undercover at ARK 45 for no other than Jeon Jungkook, you feel as though you've gotten yourself into something that will eventually get you killed.

WC: 4.4k

Play me while you read.

Pairing: Club Owner/Mafia!Jungkook, Hitman!Reader

Genre: Dark Romance, Angst and Smut (Eventual)

Chapters: 1 (ur here) | 2

Warning: undercover working as stripper, reader has done some fucked up things and will witness much worse, graphic and explicit themes, trauma is ur new best friend, people will die and there is a lot of betrayal, but at least it'll have some good porn, right?, reader is badass tho

“Do you work here?”

Your eyes lul over from the desktop to a redhead with a face full of freckles. Pretty? Sure. Dumb as hell? Apparently. 

Your eyebrows knit at the question, unsure if she really asked you that, given the fact that you’re sitting at the receptionist's desk. You can’t help the amused tug of your lips when you say, “What does it look like, cupcake?” 

Redhead apparently does not appreciate your question because her nose immediately scrunches as she scowls. With a huff and a roll of her dark brown eyes, she points to the ‘Employee’s Only’ door to your right. Your brows lift and you look behind at the black doors then back to her. 

“Is Jimin in today?” 

Now, you’re intrigued. You plant your chin on your palm, which rests on the surface of the glass desk, and grin, “And how do you know Jimin works here?” 

Her face flashes and the red hue of her cheek instantly pale. Looks like Jimin didn’t give Little Miss Sunshine the notice that she shouldn’t be here without an appointment, asking stupid questions that could get her killed. 

“I-“ 

You cut Redhead off because it looks like she’s about to cry and you’re not in the mood to listen to her whining. Besides, it’s ten in the morning and you clocked in an hour ago for fucks sake. 

Lifting your pointer finger toward Redhead, you grab the receiver to your right and press number one— Jimin’s office. 

It rings once, before a familiar deep voice answers, “I’m listening.” 

“There’s a pretty Redhead standing right in front of me asking to see you, isn’t that interesting?” 

Jimin sighs, mumbles a few explicit words, and finally says, “Bring her to my office.” 

Looks like Redhead does know Jimin.

Your grin grows wider, and when you meet Redhead's gaze she suddenly spins around. You hang up on your Boss with a murmur and by the time you place the phone back into its original spot, Redhead’s gripping the handle to the exit. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

 Your words hold no malice, but the message is there. She will regret walking out now that she’s made her presence known. Now that you’ve seen her face. 

Redhead halts, body unmoving for a solid few seconds before retreating from the glass. When she turns back to face you, her cheeks burn a bright red which matches her hair delightfully. Her lip quirks inward as she sucks on it using her teeth, and you somewhat feel bad. 

Her fuck up will either result in her miraculously walking out of the office, or not. Simple. Once you walk her through the doors, she’s no longer your problem. 

Yet, you can’t help but feel intrigued. Why would a girl like her come here? What made her grow the balls to show up to a place like this alone and unannounced? She knows Jimin, but so do the hundreds of others that flock to his side like insects.

“What’s your name?” The question leaves your lips before you can stop the wandering thought. 

Her gaze lingers on yours, she releases her bottom lip and looks to the carpet. “Miranda Ricci.” 

Instinctively, your finger taps the glass, long nails clicking against the surface at the familiar name. She’s here about Richard Ricci, the man you killed four days ago. An old, sleazy fuck that’d been meddling with Jimin’s shipments in the Terrero Region. The shit-bag had it coming. 

Jimin even had the courtesy of sending you out a month prior as a warning. Senior Ricci had too much pride though, and it was exhilarating draining every ounce of it out of his body.

You wonder if she knows her best friend ratted Daddy out to Jimin. 

Not like she’d ever find about that. 

So, like any good secretary would, you stand from your desk, and motion toward the black door. As Miranda approaches you, you place your hand on the small of her back and lean in, “Don’t say anything that’ll get you killed, darling.” 

She tenses under your hold indicating your message was heard loud and clear. 

“So?” You ask as you push open one of the double doors leading to Jimin’s office. 

About two minutes ago, Redhead ran out of the black door with tears streaming down her freckled face. She didn’t even bother to spare you a glance on her way out. 

Jimin’s sat at his desk with his head bent over the top of his chair. 

He groans.

Someone’s unhappy. But then again, if the daughter of a crime boss you ordered to have murdered came into your office you’d be irritated too. 

“She’ll do it.” 

You plop onto one of the leather couches in the middle of his obnoxiously large office and scarf down the Dunkin Donut’s jelly-filled donut you Uber’d. 

“So what’s the problem?” 

Swallowing down the drier-than-expected donut, you peer over to Jimin who’s lifted his head to look at you. There’s a twinge of concern etched on his pretty face and your stomach flips because when Jimin’s concerned, there’s a fucking problem. 

Jimin’s eyes blaze and he crosses his feet in front of him. “She wants to know who killed her father.”

Well, that could be a potential problem.

You tilt your head and smile, pretending like the statement doesn’t phase you in the slightest. 

“You think she’ll try to have me killed?”

Jimin breaks his gaze, looking over toward his shelves of books. He’s deep in thought, most likely weighing out the options you two have. If it’s worth the potential risk of admitting that his secretary killed her father, or simply lying. Either way, Redhead will convince her brother to get rid of all of the shipments coming from Terrero. 

“I do.” 

You can’t help but glare at Jimin. Even though the answer is expected, hearing the words leave his mouth leaves you grinding your teeth. 

You’d kill the bitch before she even gets the chance to tell her brother who’d murdered their sweet little Daddy, hell— you’ll drop off a letter with every single fucking detail. 

“I need you to spy on them.” 

Your eyes turn to slits, and you bite at the inside of your cheek. Spy on one of the most influential Mob families in New York? They have undercover agents, security, and influence from every fucking corner to alley. It’s like Jimin wants you to die.

“More importantly, on Jungkook.” 

The sound of Jungkook’s name piques your interest. The stepson of Richard Ricci. Jungkook’s biological mother married Richard after immigrating from Korea, who’d given his stepson half of his businesses, letting him run drug transactions disguised in form of clubs. 

The corner of Jimin’s lip tugs upward and you chuckle because he’s challenging you. Pushing you past what could very well be your limits. What might just finally get you killed. 

You lick your lips, tasting the sweetness left over from the donut. You suck on your bottom lip between your teeth, unable to stop the smile from forming on your face. “And how exactly do you want me to do that?” 

Jimin’s mischievous eyes hold yours. You’re not going to like his answer and he knows it.

He runs a fingertip over his bottom lip as he assesses his words, their weight, and how you’ll react. 

“You’ll work at ARK 45.” 

You snort, then puff out a breath, completely baffled, “You want me to work at his strip club?” 

“I need you to,” he says flatly. 

“And if he recognizes my face?” 

He glares at you because the question is stupid and you almost turn away from embarrassment because you’re being irrational.

“No one knows your face, Viper.” 

Your eyes hold his, clenching your jaw, and the air crackles between you both. 

Jimin rarely uses the name, like it’s been forbidden from his tongue. But it reminds you of who you are. Not a receptionist, but a weapon which he yields at will. 

You blink and your Boss’s eyes flash with sympathy, as though you’d gotten yourself into something that will eventually kill you. 

You swallow, tear your gaze away, and walk from the couch without another look back. You don’t want to think about what will come out of this. 

ARK 45 pulses with slow-paced, sensual music. The walls drum with vibration and the street thuds beneath your stilettos with each passing beat. You inhale sharply, taking in the red hue illuminating from the grand windows fifty floors above you. 

“Name?” The bouncer asks, giving you one solid look from head to toe. 

You peer at the man who’s holding a clipboard with what you guess is a list of names. Jungkook doesn’t like strangers entering his territory. He thrives on keeping his enemies under his radar. 

The bouncer wears black-rimmed sunglasses regardless of the fact that it’s well past midnight and the dragon tattoo snaking its way up from his nail into the shadows beneath his shirt convinces you he does more than just play security. He’s attractive even with the grays in his beard and the wrinkles around his mouth that give his age away. 

“Joanna Webb,” you lie, providing him with the name Jimin fabricated for you.

He nods and quickly flips through the pages, skimming down the list of what feels like ten thousand names. He then grabs the pen that's lodged into his ear and presses it between his lips, leaving the cap between the folds. He writes something down and nods towards the two glass doors. 

With a quick thanks, you push past him and head toward the entrance. The two doors are completely transparent, except for the large black handles, the left with a number four and the right with a five. 

The first floor of ARK 45 serves as a receptionist area, and if it wasn’t for the three grand chandeliers that hang from the ceiling that conceal the painted ARK 45 in red bold letters, you’d mistake it for any other lobby of an overpriced hotel. 

The real action comes fifty floors above, where the core of ARK 45 sits. 

The bar turned Strip Club after ten is Jungkook’s main event. What draws people into the ARK 45 is its enticing women and mysterious owner. 

To everyday people, Jeon Jungkook is a young multi-millionaire who built his clubbing empire without using the aid of his Daddy. A single bachelor that has girls from all backgrounds coming to try out for a position at his club, for a single glimpse of him.  

To others— people like you and Jimin— Jungkook is a pest. A menace with a presence too large for the entirety of New York. Killing his father was a pinch in his ass, nothing more. Truthfully, he’s probably happy the fucker is dead. 

Jimin had you kill Richard as a warning to Jungkook. 

Because Jungkook runs the shipments from Terrero, not his father. 

Because Jungkook decided to keep them running even after Jimin warned him not to. 

Jungkook will kill you after he finds out you slaughtered his father. Not because he loved Daddy dearest, but because you ruptured his ego, his pride, and tested his territory. 

He’ll kill you as a warning to others to not fuck with the Jeon name. 

Luckily for you, no one bats an eye at Jimin’s secretary. Which makes your job eerily easier. 

You saunter toward the elevators and press the metal button to your left, it glows red as the elevator hauls down to you. The elevator doors slide open, revealing an empty box with mirrors on all sides. 

Momentarily, you take a good look at the red cocktail dress Jimin had delivered to your apartment. The way it clings to all your curves, hugs your body in the right corners without making it feel like you’re suffocating beneath the cotton. He knows what kind of man Jungkook is, what he likes on women, and what he doesn’t. The attached note of, “Wear this, and nothing else. Love, Jimin” confirmed your assumption. 

The doors begin to slide inward before you’d stepped in and with a quickened step you squeeze past the closing doors and heave a sigh. You glance at the columns of numbers and linger on the ‘P.O’ at the very top, the button to Jungkook’s office. 

Which is most definitely guarded by security. 

Huffing, you press the number fifty and watch it erupt with light. The elevator thuds and then proceeds up. You watch the numbers increase, from one to ten, twenty, thirty, forty, till the elevator dings and the wave of music hits you like a tsunami. 

It’s louder— way louder— than outside and your ears pop as you step out of the elevator. ARK 45 is well known for its exclusivity. The walls are painted a dark brown, and the booths are designed into the walls, making the space feel intimate. The stage is in the center of the room, with a single spotlight shining down on it and an array of diamonds and jewels hanging from threads. Every booth has a girl assigned to it, and VIP has two girls with a separate area on a loft to the corner of the club. Attached to the loft are booths that hang from different areas in the upper walls, giving its special guests a view unlike any other.

It’s packed to the brim with men hungrily eyeing the workers, their exposed breasts, and petite frames. The sensual rhythm pumps through your ears and as you make way through the floor your heels vibrate. It smells like vanilla with a hinge of musk which is predominantly radiating from the men. 

You scope the area, and your eyes fall onto a dip in the wall where the mirror in the walls deflects the booming lights ever so slightly. There are two-way mirrors on the upstairs floor. 

Men like Jungkook need control— crave it, and you can bet your life that his office is located at the very top, overlooking the guests as if he were God. 

Below one of the panels lights pulses a red ‘LADIES ONLY’ sign. 

You make your way through the main floor, avoiding the lingering gazes from the men sitting at the tables which are scattered throughout the floor. The last thing you need right now is to draw attention to yourself, unwanted attention specifically.

Without much thought, you push the door open and are met with girls sitting at vanities fixing their makeup, hair, or outfits. Some are half naked, or entirely, while others wear burlesque type of outfits, big feathers and all. 

Blinking, your eyes adjust to the white light that contrasts the dark red in the main area of the club. You stand there like an idiot, but they pay you no mind, too enticed in the music and the atmosphere of the club to worry about someone entering the dressing room. 

“You’re late.”

You spin and an older woman with brown hair and red lipstick scowls in your direction. 

Here goes nothing.

“I need to speak to Jungkook,” you say.

Her lips purse and she eyes your silhouette before sighing, “You have fifteen before you need to be on the stage.” 

You nod and she points in a direction to the right. With another turn, you walk away and head toward another door. After pushing through, there’s a staircase and two more doors with white letters that read “Showers” and “Lockers”. 

Stairs it is. 

You look over your shoulder and peek through the circular hole before booking it up the stairs. 

Confused, and completely lost you feel a tinge of disgust in your sloppiness. 

You’re not thinking properly. You stormed into the dressing room, lied and now you’re standing at the edge of a door that you don’t even know leads to Jungkook’s office. 

Your hand hovers over the wood, and you’re unsure if you should knock or walk the fuck away.

Jimin sent you to the Lion’s Den and you’re lost for the first time in your life. 

You kill. That’s your job. To kill, mercilessly and selfishly.  Not to play dress-up and dance on a pole for the same men you torture daily. 

You turn away, ready to walk down the stairs and out of the club when you remember Miranda. She’s searching for you, so is Jungkook, and when they find you they’ll end you. They’ll do everything in their power to make sure the Viper hangs from a noose outside of ARK 45. 

Are you willing to risk everything you’ve worked so hard for because the Jeon’s need their ego fed? 

You wipe the perspiration from your forehead. When you look at your hand, you glimpse at the cut beneath your thumb, the one Richard managed before you slit his throat. Your temples pound in sync with your increasing heartbeat.

To hell with Miranda and Jungkook.

With a wicked turn, you gouge at the handles and force the doors open. Swinging in full force as a bull would, you’re prepared to meet the gaze of Jeon Jungkook but you’re met with nothing. 

It’s empty. 

You look around the over-the-top luxurious office. It’s ridiculous, with a 180-degree view of the dance floor, the fucker can see everything happening downstairs. It has a large lounge area with a fully stocked bar and leather stools that line up the front of the conference table area. You even notice a hallway with a private bathroom and an extra door. 

You step forward, nearing the desk by the wall. 

You’ll kill him. 

“What are you doing in my office?”

Your heart thumps against your chest with the speed of light and it almost hurts. Breathe, Jesus fucking Christ breathe. You’re the Viper. You’re used to situations where you’re caught off guard, where you risk your life for the “greater good” as Jimin jokes. 

So why the fuck are you paralyzed?

You turn and you see the Grim Reaper himself. 

The man—undoubtedly Jeon Jungkook is tall, well built, and dark. 

He’s wearing a black suit, perfectly tailored. It compliments the tan accompanying his throat and tattooed hands. His black hair, shorter in the front with longer ends frames the most beautiful face you’ve ever seen.

Jungkook’s dark eyes are narrowed to slits. His straight brows, the small bump to his nose, and the flawless curve of his lips are all enhanced by the metal ring pierced into its corners. 

His eyes roam over you, taking in every detail. But his features remain motionless, and in all your years you’d never seen such coldness in a human face. 

You’re staring at him open-mouthed, frozen in horror as if you hadn’t murdered his father a week ago and enjoyed every fucking second of it. His mere presence has reduced you to a shell of who you truly are. 

It feels like twenty minutes have passed. The silence ticks by, and he cocks an eyebrow up, amused by your reaction.

Finally your voice rasps out, “Job. I’m here for a job.” 

“You’re here for a job?” He questions as if it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever been asked. 

“Is that a problem?” Your voice rises, the edge of hysteria sharp as barded wire. 

He tucks his hands into his pockets and laughs, perfectly straight teeth on full display. His laugh echos tauntingly in your head and your patience hangs on a loose thread. 

“I don’t just hire anyone, sweetheart. My girls are top of the fucking top,” he muses. 

You blink.

“I am the top of the top.” The words are out of your mouth before you could stop them, instantly wishing you could reach out and take them back. 

The last time you danced publicly was ten years or so ago. At a Christmas Recital, your parents forced you to participate in. And the last time you stepped foot into a Strip Club was when you had to lodge a knife between the owner's eyes.

Jungkook takes a small step forward and as if you’re the same poles of a magnet, you take one step back. 

He removes one hand from his pocket and a glint of amusement stirs in his eyes as if you’d just performed a trick that entertained him. Your stomach churns and you can’t stomach the sinking feeling that you did not want to be Jeon Jungkook’s personal entertainment for the night. And an even stronger feeling that you already are. 

Jimin said this would be easy. Walk in, shake your ass a little here and there and you’d get the job. Yet here you are standing a mere foot away from the one man he said to stay away from completely engulfed by his presence. 

“What’s your name, darling?” 

You gulp, and the name Jimin gave you runs in mismatched pairs in your brain. Jocelyn? Jaclyn? Jacky? Think. 

An odd thumping begins in your chest as Jungkook’s gaze falls down onto your body once again. Joan, Joanelle, Joanna. 

Joanna. 

It’s Joanna. 

“Joanna.” The name is foreign on your tongue, but, Jungkook’s face remains emotionless. 

His eyes narrow on your stilettos. “And you think I’d hire you, Joanna?” He drawls the last syllable of the name and his heavy gaze travels upward eventually meeting yours. 

Your eyes burn from the intensity. How can the face of an angel have the eyes of a blackhole? 

 Too afraid to tear away from the darkness pulling you toward him. You nod, slowly.

“Dance for me.”

You stare at him, probably looking dumbfounded as hell. He nods his head toward the chairs beside you. 

“I-“

“You want the job, don’t you? How else would you get it besides impressing me?” A frightening smirk lifts his lips and he approaches you. 

His dress shoes are heavy against the wooden panels of the floor and you’re cemented to the floor. Unable to move an inch. 

You’ll have to dance for him. 

Your heart pounds so loudly you think it’ll rip from your ribcage. 

You don’t even know if you can dance. 

Something caresses your skin and when you stare at the finger, Jungkook’s seated in the chair directly beside you. During your daze, he must’ve turned on the speakers because a Weeknd song you recognize vibrates the room, consuming you. 

Imma care for you, you, you… 

Your eyes fix on Jungkook once more, on his cold, malicious and painfully beautiful face. 

Jungkook’s head cocks to the side and so does a strand of his hair, following the axis of his body with haunting motion. Every instinct in your body is keeping to run away from him, fuck Jimin’s plans and reap his rath as punishment later.

But Jungkook’s hand envelopes your wrist and you swallow the saliva that’s gathered in your mouth and step in front of him. 

You make it look like it’s magic. 

Jungkook’s hand slides from your wrist to the top of the armrest. His dark eyes remained locked with yours and in your life, you’ve never been as frozen as you are right now. It has everything to do with his cold touch, face, and demeanor. This must be what it feels like to have your soul ripped out by the Grim Reaper. 

He’s going to eat you alive. 

Cause I see nobody, nobody but you, you, you… 

Your heart soars with explosive fireworks when Jungkook opens his legs, giving you the access to his lap. 

He’s expecting a lap dance. 

As if noticing your hesitation, he says, “You can always suck my cock.“

Your finger twitches and the unnerving ease in his manner of speech sends your throat into anaphylaxis. 

You have to dance.

I’m never confused. 

You shake your head, and inch into the space between Jungkook’s legs. You’ll kill Jimin for this, rip his balls out and serve them on a platter. Right now though, you have to dance. 

Hey, hey. I’m so used to being used. 

You spin around, because if you have to look into those scorching eyes for another moment you’ll surely pass out. It’s easier facing his desk, facing a blank wall. 

So I love when you call unexpected, cause I hate when the moments expected. 

Using your heels as leverage, you sway your to the rhythm of The Weeknd’s voice. His soft words coursing your ears, guiding you through this torture. 

Your hands find their way to the back of your thighs, grazing the exposed skin ever so slightly before proceeding to your ass. You linger at the shell of your asscheeks, and you use your index fingers to carve out the shape of them. 

 So imma care for you, you, you… 

There’s warmth on your hip, and you try to steady your breath after realizing Jungkook’s using his hands to guide your hips lower and lower. You allow him because rationality is out of the window at this point, you lost it the second you stepped foot into this cell. 

Cause girl you’re perfect, always worth it, and you deserve it, the way you work it.

It’s like your ass collides with a wall. Jungkook’s hard muscles tense beneath you and you grind yourself into him. Into the darkness that’s consuming you from every possible angle.

 The warmth of Jungkook’s body sends shivers down your spine, and the way both of his hands are now gripping your hips, ushering you to glide back and forth on his erect cock. You’re grinding against him, feeling the thick swell of his cock pressed between your clothed ass. 

“Get off,” he growls into your ear.

The trance you’d put yourself in lifts and you blink repeatedly as Jungkook pulls you off his lap. 

When you’re back onto your feet, you spin and Jungkook’s eyes blaze darker than you’d ever seen them. 

He was— is hard. 

What’s the problem? 

The sweet melody of The Weeknd comes to a close and you finally take notice of the remote on the armrest. 

Jungkook stands and there’s no space between you now. His face is inches from yours, bodies so close that his heat and yours radiate in one continuous loop, feeding the tornado brewing. 

He wets his lips, his features dissolving the lust present seconds ago.

“I don’t hire whores.” 

And with those words, he pushes past you and walks the fuck away. 

Next Part.

[not-your-damsel]

Our Number 1 Hero

© not-your-damsel - Not to be read or posted anywhere else. Rb’s are MUCH appreciated though to help a fellow writer out ♥️🪶

Who :: Hawks/Keigo Takami x Fem!Reader

AN :: While I’m recovering, have a queued up/scheduled cute & smutty moment I finished a few days ago with you in an established marriage/already mated with papa Keigs ♥️ Was inspired after seeing an adorable bit of fanart of Keigo with his baby chirping up at him 🥺🥹🫠

⚠️ :: Oral (Fem!receiving), sq¡irt¡ng, some feather play. MDN¡, ageless, porn & blank blogs will be sniped on sight. Pew pew!

Word Count :: 4,179

Photo :: A Pinterest find. If anyone knows the artist, please let me know so I can give proper credit.

⚠️Note :: There’s an issue going on with the mobile version of the app with the display of this oneshot, especially when adding more ppl to tag. Just a heads up, I’ll remove this when it gets fixed on their end as I’ve done all I can on mine. On desktop it looks absolutely normal. Go figure 🙄

There’s a feeling you can’t quite describe whenever you watch as Keigo plays and bonds with your 10 month old baby boy and girl. Never in your life did you think twins would be in the cards for you, yet, here you were with two fuzzy, crimson winged beauties who were currently laughing that undeniably happy laughter that only babies can manage as he holds them just under their bellies to float them around like planes. In fact, their laughter is so hearty that you find both Keigo and yourself having a good chuckle along with them as you listen from where you are.

As you’re sitting in the living room, working on altering and hemming your babies’ clothing to accommodate their wings, you hear your husband gasp out and it has you dropping everything to make sure nothing’s wrong. You reach the doorway to the babies’ room where they were playing with Keigo, expecting to see some sort of accident, only to see each baby gathered in either of his capable arms as they chirp up at him eagerly.

Hinadori, your chubby cheeked daughter, was clinging to Keigo’s shirt as her large eyes -your eyes- looked up at her dad, almost as though she revered him. Her little mouth would open and a flurry of chirps and peeps would come rushing out to his ears, making him crack a smile.

“Is that so, Hina-chan? Well then, -chirps and peeps- hm? Can you promise not to do that to Tobu-chan’s wings? It isn’t nice. -chirps lowly-”

Hinadori looked over at Tobu in Keigo’s other arm thoughtfully, her eye markings making her look angelic, almost cherub-like. Her chubby little arm slowly reached over to Tobu’s plush little wing, occasionally looking up to Keigo as though asking permission. He’d nod, chirp and watch on.

“Gentle, Hina-chan, yasashi…”

She slowed for a moment as he spoke before a chirp met her ears, telling her to continue. Her little dimpled hand met Tobu’s little wing where she gently pet it, looking back to Keigo for approval. He nodded, a kind and loving smile graced his lips as she let out a gleeful chirp. Keigo whistled out from somewhere deep in his throat and she laughed.

“That’s my good girl, that’s daddy’s good girl!”

You grinned from the doorway, arms crossing over your chest as you watched them together. Tobu now looked up at Keigo, his eyes a startling shade of gold and despite the hue being slightly different from Keigo’s, when you looked at him with those avian markings, he looked just like his daddy. Tobu had your hair but, like Keigo’s, it stuck every which way. Even more so after horsing around. His cheeks were tinged pink from all the laughter no doubt.

“Your big sister did well, right my little feather?”

Keigo asked as Tobu chirped up at him. His little arms began to work as he tugged Keigo’s shirt, his legs working together in a crawling motion as though he were trying to climb up to Keigo’s shoulder.

“Hey now -chirps and whistles- where are you going, little fea-”

Tobu’s little wings began to flutter, some deep instinct triggering a knowing need to flap. Keigo’s eyes nearly turned to saucers as he watched on, measuring how hard the little wing beats were.

“Keigs, watch hi-”

“He’s trying, baby, he’s trying!”

Keigo was far too excited about this, assuring you as he held Tobu fast as he worked his way to Keigo’s neck with his wings working all the while. Once he reached Keigo’s neck, he realized he had nowhere else to go so he settled for making a fuss with impatient chirps and tiny whistles leaving his throat.

“Ok, ok. One second, Tobu-chan. Baby? Can you take Hina-chan for a moment, please?”

You nodded, walking over to them and scooping Hinadori in your arms, kissing the top of her straw colored locks as you cradled her head close to your chest.

“Look, Hina-chan! Look at daddy and Tobu-chan…”

Keigo was now holding Tobu high above his head, chuckling as he watched his little legs and arms splay out instinctively. Suddenly and without warning, Keigo let go of Tobu, dropping his arms lower in a position ready to catch him on his inevitable way down.

“Kei!!”

You felt your heart drop along with your son who landed safely in your husband’s hands. A squeal met your ears as Tobu felt the drop in his little body, his wings fluttering wildly on the way down.

“Again, Tobu-chan, slower. -peeps-”

Whatever Keigo had said to Tobu, it was clearly important as he gently patted your son’s wings. Taking position once more, Keigo raised Tobu above his head and dropped him again. This time you watched as Tobu’s little wings fluttered a little slower than the first time… and he was floating for about two seconds before once again falling into Keigo’s hands.

“Now, that’s what I’m talkin’ about, sweetheart!!!!”

Keigo yelled into the room startling both you and Hinadori, the both of you jolting in unison before hearing a commotion of chirps, peeps, whistles and squeaks fill the kid’s room. Keigo was so happy, his own wings spread wide as they shook with excitement and pride before looking at you with determination.

“Tobu’s ready! We can go out tomorrow morning and we ca-”

“Wait, wait, wait! Kei, I know you’re happy and I know you’re excited, I am too! But…”

You trailed off, absentmindedly bouncing Hinadori on your hip. Keigo could sense your apprehension, could smell the cortisol coming off you as you silently stressed.

“Baby bird… you know I’d never let anything happen to our brood, right?”

You swore you’d never get used to the whole “familial bird” talk. You nodded, you knew he’d lay his life down without hesitation or question for you and the babies. Keigo put Tobu on the hip opposite yours with Hinadori and leaned into you, his nose trailing from your own to your jaw and then gliding down to a faded bite mark on the smooth skin of your neck. He inhaled deeply before planting a kiss against the silvered mark, followed by a soft nip and a final kiss once more. Standing upright to meet your gaze again, Keigo noted you were calm once more and he grinned, lopsided and beautiful all the same. You grinned back, free hand coming up to stroke his scarred cheek as you looked lovingly at him.

“I know you’d never let anything happen to them, but, how do you know it’s time?”

Keigo nodded, he figured it was fair you’d ask how he knew. But, he didn’t know either.

“Truth is, kid, I don’t even know how it is I know. I just do. And I know that’s not what you want to hear but, it’s the truth and it’s all I can give you right now. I just… I feel it in my bones. It’s time for Tobu to practice taking flight.”

He said, holding your gaze lovingly. You nodded, Keigo could tell it was a reluctant one, but you nodded with a sigh. You looked at Hinadori and felt your eyes brim with tears.

“Talk to me, baby bird. What’re you thinking?”

Keigo grabbed hold of your chin to look at him again, seeing your eyes reddened and glossier than a moment ago.

“Oh no, baby I-”

“I just… I’m so proud of you, Keigo,”

You nuzzled into his palm against your cheek.

“You went from not wanting us to have kids because you were terrified you’d be the worst father to grace this planet, to us having not one but two, to being the best father I’ve ever seen. Not that I never had faith in you, you just blew all my expectations away.”

Keigo’s neck was starting to pink to his ears at your words.

“And I get so touched when I see you with them, see you playing and bonding and becoming the mochi of their eyes. Part of me is a little jealous of you three, to be honest.”

“Wait, what?! Us?! I don’t understand, love…”

You shook your head,

“Not in a malicious way, I just wish I knew what you guys say to one another when you start chirping and whistling at each other and now, Tobu-chan’s ready to start flying practice and I can’t be there for that. I can’t be in the sky with you to see him experience this life changing moment and I want to be there for all of it. Our line of work doesn’t guarantee us seeing tomorrow and I want to see everything they get to experience and I-”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until Hinadori reached to touch your wet cheek. You looked down at her where she chirped to you and you had no idea how to even answer her. It made you feel a little worse, like you couldn’t provide vocal comfort or feedback to your own babies.

“Whistle.”

Keigo said, wiping your eyes and then your nose.

“K-Keigs, gross!”

“Our brood has pissed on me, puked on me, I even been shat on by them, your snot is nothing by now, dove. Now, whistle. Nothing major, just a single, double note sound.”

You shook your head but gave it a try anyway, letting a single little high-low whistle escape your lips as you looked at Hinadori. Her features lit up as she released more of her own chirps and peeps at you. You giggled, more tears forming in your eyes at her response to you.

“B-but, I don’t know what I’ve said to her or what she’s saying to me.”

Keigo grinned.

“It doesn’t rightly matter at this point, they’re not saying much of anything right now. I only understand bits and pieces of what they mean. It’ll get better over time as they form their avian speech more. And you, baby bird, don’t have to worry one bit. I’m here, aren’t I? I can always translate.”

You smiled at him, pulling him in for a deep, heated kiss.

“What was that for?”

“For being our number 1 hero. Come now, let’s get these little chicks to bed.”

Keigo beamed before frowning.

“I need to see if my Hina-chan is ready, too!”

“You can check tomorrow, I promise.”

Giggling at his pout, you handed Hinadori to him so he could get them ready for bed as you tidied up the living room of all the little clothing and sewing items you had scattered around along with whatever toys were left on the floor of their play mats.

It had taken almost an hour to get the chicks down and off to sleep. Little twitching wings remained active while they were fast asleep as you and Keigo kissed their heads before leaving a feather of his own wrapped around their ankles. You closed their door, leaving a crack open before you went to your shared bedroom to change into your pajamas.

Walking in, you see Keigo already in his boxers while laying in bed, golden eyes scanning his tablet screen most likely adjusting your patrolling schedules for the coming week. You made your way to the walk-in closet to put your pajamas on, throwing your clothes for the day in the hamper in the process. As you bent to pull your silk sleep shorts up, you felt a feather skimming up your back before making quick work of your bra, feeling it slip off your shoulders, falling to the hardwood floor.

Keigo could feel the vibration of your slight giggles, making him smirk in turn. He then felt you wave the feather off as you moved to slip your silk tank on and as you threw your arms up to help it slide over your head, large, warm, calloused hands reached around to cup and grope your soft breasts. You yelped, always getting thrown off by how stealthy Keigo was when he really wanted to be.

Warm lips met the nape of your neck accompanied by the sharp scrape of his stubble as he kissed you, his chest meeting your back as he pressed into you. It was then you felt a hard bulge firmly against your lower back, a slight grind into you as Keigo’s thumbs slid down to your nipples to roll between them and his forefingers. Your back was instinctively arching against him, your ass pushing into his hard cock as your chest pushed out into his rough hands.

“Fffuck, baby, that get your pretty pussy twitching for me?”

He panted behind your ear, his nose inhaling the scent of your hair as you rocked your ass up and down his clothed length. With your nipples now hard and pebbled for him, he pulled, a hiss escaping your lips at the feeling as your arms reached behind you to sink your fingers into silky straw colored strands, tugging enticingly as he sucked along your shoulder with a groan.

“Kei, t-the bed…”

You felt another feather make its way to your shorts, tugging them down along with your panties to pool at your feet.

“Here’s just fine, baby bird.”

With one swift movement, Keigo had you bent over your vanity, some of your makeup items clattering to the floor with the act.

“The babies, Keigs!”

“They’re still asleep, hero’s promise.”

Still bent in your position, you were already reaching behind you to tug down his boxers and boxer briefs, wanting to feel him inside you already.

“So needy aren’t we? I got you, kid.”

His feathers were already pulling his bottoms down and you heard his cock slap against his lower abdomen.

“Kei, I need it, I need you, please!”

You breathed. With his heightened senses, he could already smell you dripping for him, taste it in the air and it had his golden eyes rolling back. His hands found your hips and adjusted them so that it looked as though you were presenting yourself to him.

“Lemme see, baby, let me fuckin’ see what it is I do to you.”

You gave a pathetic whine as his hands spread your cheeks apart, watching as your cunt fluttered for him, your slick oozing from your tight little hole. Avian pupils dialated at the sight and before he could even register what he was doing, Keigo dropped to his knees and licked from your clit to your hole before delving in to penetrate it.

Squealing, you slammed your hands down on the table of your vanity as he ate you out like a starved man. Slurping, sucking your clit before flicking his tongue over it again and again had your eyes rolling back as well.

“Keigo, fuck, p-please, I-!”

His hands squeezed your ass cheeks roughly, grunting and moaning every time your slick gushed into his mouth.

“You better cum in my mouth. I don’t care how long it takes, I want you squirting in this mouth, d’you hear me?”

A harsh slap met one of your ass cheeks and you moaned out loud as his whole mouth covered your cunt, his tongue stroking you even closer to the edge of bliss. Keigo abruptly pulled away, and as you went to protest, you felt a feather start vibrating against your clit before two thick fingers slipped inside you pumping against your sweet spot over and over again. The feeling had your hips swiveling, bucking up and down as tears pricked your eyes.

“You know how beautiful you look, what you’re doing to me right now? You keep this up, you’ll end up making me knock you up with another addition to the brood,”

At that, your hips rocked harder into his pumping fingers.

“What a little slut, fuuuck!”

“R-right there, right there, Keigo don’t stop,”

This was arguably the second best part, the immediate climb to the jump off, the way the taut string inside your belly was fraying in preparation for the snap.

Keigo felt it, the way your cunt was sucking his thick fingers in, fluttering all around them. It was like he was in a trance, chasing that sweet moment you’d come undone and bless him with the sweetest nectar that was only ever for him.

“Keigo, it’s coming, I’m cumming, I-! G-gonna squ-“

Keigo removed his fingers but kept his feather working you, flipping you over again to latch his mouth against your cunt just in time as a gush of fluid came out of you and right into his mouth where he drank, golden eyes shifting between pinpoints and full blown as he let out the most porn worthy moan along with your own.

Pulling away, his chin was soaked and as he lifted his head up it began to drip and roll down his neck. But, he couldn’t be bothered to care. Your squirming told him to stop with his feather, already pawing at you to suddenly hoist over his shoulder to bring you to the bed.

“K-Keigo! There’s a mess on the floor!”

“Feathers’ll get it,”

Once in the bedroom, Keigo plopped you on the bed, climbing up over you and caging you in with his own body.

“C’mere, you pretty bird.”

He dipped down and kissed you passionately, and it wasn’t until he slipped his tongue in your mouth that you realized he never wiped your release off of his face. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck bringing him closer to you. As you both made out on the bed, his hand slipped between the both of you to give his cock a few pumps before swiping his tip along your slippery entrance to gather some slick.

He groaned deeply in your mouth.

“Fuck, kid, fuuuck,”

You slid your legs up some and opened them wider for him as he grinned down at you.

“Have I told you that I love you today?”

You’re grinning back now, shaking your head.

“No. I don’t think you have and I’m upset about it.”

You faux pouted. The two of you knew he’d already told both you and the chicks he loves you a couple times since he’d gotten home and it was reciprocated each time. With you both working the profession you do, it tends to do that. You’ve made it a constant habit since you two had gotten together. It was a little bit of work on his part since saying it outright when the mood strikes isn’t much within Japanese culture but, when a near death experience came late one morning you drove it home to him why it was so important to you to say it and have it said in return. Keigo’s never skipped saying it ever since that day. He was incredibly good like that.

“How could I? I made a promise, didn’t I?”

You nodded, pure love and contentment on your face. Gods, he adored the ever loving hell out of you.

“Then, let me make it up to you, baby bird.”

Guiding his length into your warmth with a flex of his jaw and ab muscles, Keigo stops to look up at you.

“Oh, I should prep you mo-oh!!”

Without warning, you dug your heels into each of his ass cheeks and pulled him into you the rest of the way.

“Fuck, fuck!”

He gasped while you took a sharp breath in as he lurched forward and caught himself just in time with hands on either side of your head. Giving you a moment to adjust, he lowered himself onto his elbows, leaning down to kiss you sweetly as he backed out, the tip of his cock remaining behind before thrusting back into you hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs. Your arms slipped under his to grip at his shoulders for stability as he began a slow but rough pace. Each drag out of your slick and gummy walls had you slowly clenching around him, the sounds of your arousal already sounding out in the room.

“M-more, Keigs, more,”

Keigo’s hand came to gently wipe your hair out of your face, his own so close to yours that you were both breathing the same air, sharing it intimately in and out through your mouths. His pace picked up some, the feeling making you hike tour legs up higher over his hips now as his gentle pace turned into the feverish hunger you knew he was fighting. Keigo roughly grasped a breast in his hand, squeezing to bring your nipple into his mouth as his hips continued to roll into you faster.

“Yeah, like that! Just like that, Kei!”

His mouth unlatched from you with a ‘pop!’, thinly rimmed golden eyes meeting yours as he took in your debauched state with a lick of his cherry kissed lips.

“Shhh, shhhh. I got you, baby,”

However, the second he felt your nails gently scrape against the patch of skin between his wings, they fluffed out from behind him and the torrent of want and need he’d held back this whole time snapped.

“But, fuck, I need more!”

Pushing off of his arms after giving you a quick kiss, he planted his large hands against the backs of your thighs, pushing them up to your chest as he snapped his hips brutally into you. The slapping of his balls against you, the sounds of your combined slick and his pre was all too much. The moment his fingers met your clit with a few perfectly pressured strokes, it had you careening towards your release as it snuck up on you and tore at the core of your lower stomach. Clenching around his length, it had Keigo looking down, a sheen of sweat all over his body as he watched with dilated pupils a creamy ring forming at the base of his cock.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, honey, goddamn it,”

You didn’t even think he caught what he’d said before his face twisted in pleasure, golden eyes rolling to the back of his head as you felt his cock throb a few times inside you.

“I’m gonna cum, ba-baby bird, I’m gonna fuckin’ cu-”

His voice choked off to let out a sinful moan as rope after rope of his cum shot into you with each throb of his cock. Keigo’s hands loosened their grip on either of your thighs, helping you put them back down gently as you both panted for breath. As he looked to you, your arms were already open to him and waiting for his inevitable collapse into you. And he did just that with a goofy smile to his lips.

“Oof! Keigs, my tits!”

He wasn’t listening, already nuzzling into your neck with kisses as his stubble scraped nicely at your skin there. Your fingers were already threading through his straw colored curls to stroke and tug just to hear him groan in delight at the feeling as you kissed the top of his head before taking a deep breath of his scent through them to ground you.

“I love you, Keigo.”

“I love you, too, my baby bird.”

You both lay there in silence, cockwarming him with your legs wrapped around him as you held one another. Keigo propped his head up, chin resting in the valley of your breasts.

“You know, about me taking the chicks with me up in the air, you can be there, y’know?”

You gave him a skeptical look, an eyebrow cocked at him.

“You can’t bring us all up there!! How’ll you do that?!”

“Feathers, silly.”

You thought about it for a moment, your attention being caught as you saw your clothes being brought back out from the walk-in closet before being rested gently back on the bed.

Well, he has saved many people with them and you knew from fighting alongside him that they were plenty strong. Hell, he’s saved even you a few times with them so you knew they were more than capable of carrying and holding you safely. Keigo would rather die than let anything bad happen to you, let alone with his own feathers. You really could be there for each occasion in the air with the chicks.

As Keigo studied you weighing your options, he decided to break the silence.

“You scared I’d drop yo-”

“Never.”

You said it with such finality and without hesitation, it had his cheeks pinking, feathers fluttering behind him with pride.

“Good. ‘Cause I’d never let you fall, kid.”

“I know. You’re my number one hero, too. Thank you, honey. It means so much to me that I’ll get to be there with you all during that. I want more glimpses into the little world you’ve built with them, too.”

He felt himself go all gooey and soft for you all over again at the shy and bashful face you made at the admission.

“You’re the center of our universe, baby. Of course we want you there.”

And just as you were gonna grin at him, showing your complete trust in him, Keigo’s lips were smothering your own with all the love he could muster. When you find yourselves pulling away for air, he says it for one last time that evening.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Keigs.”

Key ~

Hinadori :: Baby Bird 🐣

Tobu :: Fly 🦅

Yasashi :: Gentle 🫳🏽

🏷️ Tags :: @pervysenpaix @touyasdollmain @touyasdoll (more to come if this would fkn cooperate)

[boldlyvoid]

Breakable Heaven | Chapter Three: Emails

18+

Summary: Andy logs onto her dad's computer and steals the email of his resident genius.

Warnings: mature themes, flirting, Haley making assumptions, canon typical violence (plot points and script from season 1 episode 1)

Word count: 4.3k

Masterlist

The first thing she did when she got home that night was sneak into her dad's home office. Haley was in the master bedroom, on the other side of the second floor, so she wouldn’t hear the door creak as Andy pushed it open. 

Her dad wasn’t the best with technology, so his password to his computer was on a sticky note beside the screen. She types it in, waits for the desktop to load and then finds his email. 

“Search bar, search bar, ah,” she mumbles to herself while she works. “S-p-e-n there he is. spencerwreid@fbi.gov... w?” She wonders what his middle name could possibly be, but either way, she had his email now. 

She logs off, turns the monitor off and shuts the door behind herself, hoping it looked like she was never in there. She skips down the hall to Haley's room, knocking lightly before she pushes the door open, “I’m home.” 

“How was it?” She smiles, putting her book down and sitting up more. 

“Really good,” she can’t stop smiling. “The girls and I danced for hours, I’m exhausted.” 

“I’m glad, you deserve some fun with all the work you do,” she praises. “Did you need help with the zip again?” 

“Oh, yeah,” she walks over to the side of the bed and sits, letting Haley undo the clip and pull the zipper down. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” she pats her shoulder when she’s done. “Have a good sleep, honey. Oh, and your dads gone to Seattle for a case, so I don’t think he’ll be back tonight, can you lock up?” 

“I already did,” she admits with a smile, “I saw Morgan run out of Joe’s a while ago, so I figured they had something come up.” 

“Did Reid not go?” She looks disappointed for Andy. 

She shakes her head, looking as disappointed as possible, “no, I didn’t see him.” It’s not like she hasn’t lied to Haley before, it just felt weird every time she did. 

“I’m sure you’ll see him again soon,” Haley gives her a halfhearted smile. “Make sure you have some water and take a Tylenol, you’ll thank me tomorrow.”

She laughs, “thanks, goodnight,” she waves before closing the bedroom door. 

Her dads house was big, paid for mostly by the FBI to get him to move back to Virginia to take this job, it was more like a mansion than a house. They had a lot more money now than when she was a kid, it made her excited for her little brother. He’d never have to worry about asking for a new pair of shoes or have to reuse the same backpack 2 years in a row. He wouldn’t be the only kid on the field trip there for free because their dad talked the principal into letting her go… because it really wouldn’t be fair for her to see all the kids go on a 3 day trip without her all because her dad didn’t have an extra $160 that month cause he was freshly out of law school and drowning in debt. 

In her room, she slips out of her dress and hangs it back on a hanger, it still smells like Spencer and his apartment, like old books and gain laundry detergent… it was very him and she loved it. 

She gets into some fresh pj’s and she takes her laptop out,  it takes forever to load the internet, but she eventually gets to her email and she’s able to send one to Spencer. 

Andy: Do you ever check your emails? 

Dr. Reid: I’m contractually obligated to, yes. How’d you get my email address? 

—

His blackberry dings in his pocket just before take-off, he knows he shouldn’t have his phone out, but he reads her messages anyway.

Andy: I logged onto my dads computer and found it. Seeing as I don’t have your phone number, I can’t just go to Quantico every time I want to talk to you. 

He smiles, of course, she would break into her dads home office to talk to him. 

“Spencer, phone off,” Hotch’s voice rips him out of it. 

He hides his phone, “yes sir, sorry.” 

“I’ve never seen you answer emails…” Derek catches on. “What is it?” 

“Nothing serious, my mom has access to a computer now so I get emails from her sometimes.” 

“It’s the middle of the night?” 

“It’s only 10 pm in Vegas,” he corrects him. 

They drop it, preparing for take-off. He buckles up, sends a simple prayer to whatever's out there and he closes his eyes as the wheels leave the tarmac. He’ll never get used to flying, especially when he knew that a large portion of aviation accidents happened in private planes, like the one they used at work. It scared him more than he’d like to admit. 

It feels like forever before the seatbelt sign turns off and he can take his phone out again, just as he’s about to, files are handed out for briefing and starting their profile. 

“Reid, you’re up,” Gideon lets him take point. 

“His first victim was 26-year-old Melissa Kirsch, stab wounds, strangulation—

“Okay, wait, wait, back up, backup,” Derek stops him before he can dig too far in the file. “He stabbed her, then strangled her to finish her off?” 

“Other way around,” Gideon corrects him. “Why do you think he started using the belt with the second murder?” 

“Strangulation with your bare hands is not as easy as one would believe. He tried, probably found that it took too long and—

“So he stabbed her instead,” Derek understands now. Cutting Spencer off so he wouldn’t look like the only one in the room who didn’t get it. 

“And realized it would be hours cleaning up the blood,” Hotch adds. 

“So the next time, our boys got a method, the belt.”

Gideon nods and turns to him, proud, “he’s learning. Perfecting his scenario. Becoming a better killer.” 

The words make his spine shiver. Even if they did end up catching this monster, there were still 49 just like him roaming around the united states, just waiting for their next perfect kill. 

He used to wonder what would lead a man to pick his perfect target, was it just a perfect opportunity or were they all planned. He’s grown to know the answer was much more fucked up than he hoped. A lot of the time they looked like the subject of their rage, often a mother, ex-partner, their child… 

“The two victims don’t look very similar,” Spencer points out. Flipping between the photos. “Do you think they’re more victims of opportunity?” 

“Possibly,” Hotch takes a look at the victim's again too. “He went from a brunette to blondes then back to brunette, another blonde and now a red-head.”

“What would possibly convince all those different women into the same man’s car?��� Spencer asks. 

“They’re high-risk victims, he abducts them in broad daylight without a fight, he conceals them for 3 days and then he dumps them publicly,” Derek recounts, “he has to have a job where they trust him. A cab service maybe?” 

“Call Garcia, have her look into it,” Hotch directs him. “Till then, catch up on some rest.” 

Spencer takes that as his chance to email Andy back, he turns away from Hotch, he takes his phone back out and types back a quick message. 

Dr. Reid: Even if I gave you my number, I can’t text on my phone.

Every few minutes he refreshes his inbox, and the light from his phone illuminates his part of the cabin. No one else is asleep yet, they probably wouldn’t sleep, too busy thinking of possible scenarios for the case, but now they also wondered who he was talking to. 

They don’t ask again, but they keep looking at him every time he checks. Even though it was the middle of the night, and Andy had been busy all day and she had a few drinks… she probably went to bed when he didn’t answer her right away. 

So he gives in, he slides his phone into his bag and he closes his eyes with a deep sigh, and then a yawn. 

—

She’s only been up for a few minutes, but she’s already logged onto her computer to see if he messaged her back. Staring at the screen with only one eye open as she typed her response.

Andy: thats a shame, you should get one of those new blackberry’s then we can BBM

She moves her laptop to the side and throws the covers off, completely forgetting when she actually went to sleep last night, she woke up in the same position she laid down in originally… 

By the time she’s done her morning routine in the bathroom and back in her bed, Spencer’s sent her a pretty lengthy reply.

Dr. Reid: everyone’s wondering why I keep checking my email on my work blackberry every 20 minutes. Legally I’m not allowed to use BBM on this one, it’s in my contract. But I can see if I can get a new one when I’m done with this case. 

I had to go get Gideon from the college and they’re making him go back into the field today, I’m sure you know what happened… I’m not sure if he’s ready, he’s really on edge today, we have only a few hours left to find this girl, so if I don’t answer you, that’s why. 

I’ll email you when I’m on my way back if you’d like? Not sure how much contact is too much contact… so this email is probably already too much, but, it’s nice talking to you. 

It makes her smile uncontrollably, it was so incredibly nice to talk with him. Like having a best friend but better. 

Andy: you can email me as many times as you want. I genuinely really like talking to you too. I heard the president and the secret service use BBM cause it can’t be hacked, is that true? I feel like that’s a little fact you’d know. 

I really enjoyed our time yesterday, if we had more time I would’ve liked to talk a bit more but what happened instead was nice. I’d like to see you again sometime soon, but my exams start this week. I have 2 finals, a paper and 1 more lab to finish. Masters degrees are no joke… I can’t believe you have 3 Ph.D.’s… how did you not die of stress? Is your heart okay?

She hits send before she can go too far and embarrass herself. She really wanted to tell him that he could have hers. But she had to hold back. 

This was just a fun thing between two young adults, she wanted to help him experience the wonders of womanhood while also having a few pay-off moments for herself… If no one got murdered last night, she might have had one of them. 

But he’s a busy boy. He’s the BAU’s golden child, their new shiny toy, so he couldn’t always reply right away. After about 40 minutes of refreshing and googling him in the meantime, she makes her way down to the kitchen for breakfast. 

“Mornin’, hun,” Haley smiles, behind the counter mixing a bowl of ingredients. “I woke up needing waffles, do you want some?” 

“Sure,” she takes a seat at the counter. “Do you want me to do it, you shouldn’t be walking around?” 

She shrugs, “I don’t think I need to be… I’m not going to go into early labour, and if I did, it’s probably because he’s measuring a lot bigger than he should be. Who knows when I got pregnant, anyway… the last time we tried, Aaron was so horny all the time—”

“Ew,” she doesn’t want to hear more. 

“After the night you had, you’re going to say ew?” She teases, giving her a knowing smirk. 

“What do you mean?” Andy goes whiter than a sheet of paper, feeling like Spencer caved and the news had already traveled back home. 

“You smelled like sex and someones cologne, your lipstick was gone, I didn’t do the little clip up at the back of your dress when I sent you out and yet you came home with it clipped up…” Haley has clearly spent too much time with her dad, now she’s able to profile too. 

She stutters, trying to think of something to say, but there’s nothing. She slowly grows more embarrassed, the colour comes back to her cheeks, flushing a deep magenta. 

“So, who was he?” Haley gets back to cooking, pouring the batter onto the waffle iron. 

“I can’t tell you,” she whispers. “Because I know you tell my dad everything even if I asked you not to, and I really want to keep this to myself for a bit…” 

“Is it a girl?” Haley whispers. “Oh, I’m sorry. Aaron told me this might happen, it’s okay, you can come out when you’re ready and I’ll just pretend it’s new information.” 

She laughs, a little too hard, “what?” 

“Well, with you playing softball and curling… and after Peter, there weren’t any boys around but you were sneaking out, plus Jasmine smiles at you a lot when she’s here…” 

“I’ll be honest, I don’t know if I like girls like that yet… but no, it wasn’t a girl I went home with last night.” 

It’s a weird sentence to say, she never thought it would be something brought up in her house… it was a common misconception at school, being called Andy and wearing suits more than dresses to interviews and events. She’s been hit on by female agents at the bar, she’s debated it, but when it all came down to it, it was the agent part and not the female part that made her say no. 

“Oh,” Haley’s almost disappointed. “Well, I just hope he’s nice to you and that you’re safe.” 

“If you told him it was a girl I was seeing, do you think he’d be less insane this time?” 

Haley shrugs, a puzzled look on her face, “there’s really no telling… just wait for Jack to be born and then he might not have enough time to stress over your boyfriends.” 

“Jack?” She hasn’t heard them use a name for her new brother yet. 

She nods, “we’re still debating on if we want just Jack or Jackson, but that will be his name.” 

“I love it,” she doesn’t mind either way. Jack sounded like the name of her brother, it fit perfectly. “Speaking of little baby Jack, would you be okay with me making a mural in his room?” 

“As long as you run the idea by your father or me first, sure,” she doesn’t mind. “It’s less painting for me to do.” 

“Exactly, I want to do the whole room if you’d let me, as a gift from me to you,” she poses. “When I get back from school full time, I wanted to go to IKEA and get some things and see if Jas or even Spencer and Derek could come over and help me put it all together, it would be a group effort to make sure little Jack has the best room and you don’t strain yourself.” 

“As long as I can organize the closet.” 

“Of course,” Andy laughs. “I wouldn’t ruin your nesting phase for you.” 

“You really are the perfect step daughter,” Haley hands her the first plate of home made waffles, as well as a fork, knife and the syrup. 

“I’m really excited to be a sister too, genuinely,” she makes sure Haley see’s it in her face. “I’ve wanted this just as long as you have.” 

“I’m glad,” she tries not to cry, rubbing her tummy. “I’m really glad he’ll have you.” 

—

“Did you get an address on Linder?” Hotch comes barrelling through the office. 

“It’s coming through now,” he answers, monotoned, bored, tired. He hates the sound of the fax machine but it was his duty as the youngest on the team. Some might even call him their bitch… a lot of people did actually. 

His reason for joining the team was to give Gideon an excuse to come back, to entice him with files and build a trust that made him follow Spencer into the field. He knew he was important and yet no one else really saw it. 

Before hotch can walk too far from him, he grabs his attention. “Does senior management want a field assessment of Gideon?” He asks, wondering if he had to write a part of it or not. 

Hotch stops, turns around and walks stressfully close to Spencer. In his personal space bubble, he stands tall and looks down at him, “don’t worry about it.” 

Something in him makes him want to fight back, “are you nervous about him being in charge?” 

“Aren’t you on you’re way back to Slessman’s house to help Morgan?” He shoots back with anger in his tone. 

They turn away from each other quickly, but Spencer can’t let it go. He calls to Hotch, feeling like he deserves some semblance of respect with all the work he does on the team. “Do you know why he always introduces me as Doctor Reid?” 

The same name Hotch’s daughter called him last night. 

Aaron stops dead in his tracks and turns to Spencer, sighing because he knows he’s right. “Because he knows that people see you as a kid and he wants to make sure they respect you.” 

He takes a moment to stare into his eyes, asserting his own dominance, agreeing with what he said. He smiles slightly, it’s a silent thank you that Aaron understands. 

“What’s the address?” 

He glances at the page, reading it in its entirety in a matter of seconds, “I don’t think it matters anymore, he died in a car accident 2 months ago…” 

Aaron sighs, “I’ll call Elle, you get to Derek. Double time it.” 

“Yes sir,” Spencer nods, he immediately starts packing his bag and heads for the door. There’s a Seattle officer leaving at the same time as him, “excuse me,” he stops them.

“Yeah?” The man turns to him. 

“Any chance you can drive me to Slessman’s house?” 

He nods, “that’s on my patrol, hop in.” 

He’s used to being in cars with strangers now, it’s a big part of the job. He was chauffeured around between crime scenes and police stations, he has seen the same beige bricked walls in almost every state in America and the inside of every cruiser too. 

On the ride over, he takes his blackberry back out and he reads the last email from Andy. 

“I can’t believe you have 3 Ph.D.’s… how did you not die of stress? Is your heart okay?”

If he was being honest, he’d reply that his heart was defecting… it was in another place while he was in Seattle trying to save a woman he didn’t know. 

Dr. Reid: my heart is fine, thank you for the concern. It was a lot of work, but luckily I didn’t have these kinds of distractions back then… 

But you asked me a question. Yes, I do believe we’re allowed to speak with other government officials through the blackberry messenger app, but not with civilians. So, if you somehow can get a job with the president this summer, then we can talk. 

I also wanted to say I hope I’m not taking away from your study time? If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know, I actually know a fair bit about psychology. I know, that’s a big surprise to you (sarcasm if you can’t read that) but I mean it, I’d drop everything to help you study if you asked. 

Andy: correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you have a woman to save? My homework isn’t that important, focus on her and then me, I’d really like to hear about the case and how you figured it out later, maybe if you gave me your number we could talk on the phone instead… 

It doesn’t take much time for her to respond. It’s mere moments before he’s reading her words again. 

“Someone special you go there?” The officer asks, referring to his head buried in his phone. 

“You can say that,” he blushes. “It’s new, I really like her.” 

“I hope it all works out, kid,” he’s nice about it. He has an energy that makes Spencer feel like he can trust him. “Especially in this line of work, you need a nice lady you can go home to and fall back on… someone who doesn’t see you as weak when you’re affected by it, someone who just supports you through it.” 

He smiles at the thought, “thanks, I think I found that in her.” 

Dr. Reid: we apprehended a suspect, pretty sure he’s working with someone, we just need to find out who. The new girl on our team, Elle, actually caught him, it was really cool. 

It’s getting late here, we’re very close to figuring it all out. I’m on my way to help Derek crack the unsubs password to his computer, I think your dad was just tired of seeing me so now I’m being sent here. I’ll try and talk to you more later, hopefully, we get a hotel after the case so I can rest, and maybe call you? I miss your voice. 

702-555-0103 (in case you felt the same)��

—

She adds his number to her phone as soon as she reads his email. 

The smile on her face makes her feel like she’s 13 again and the backstreet boys were releasing a new single… she hasn’t been this giddy over a boy in years and it honestly felt so freeing. Spending time with Spencer was more rewarding than she ever imagined it would be. 

She thinks about him all day. Little things in her homework remind her of him and his list of degrees, there’s little facts she’s learning about the human brain that she’d love to pick his about. She see’s his face in her day dreams, the thought of his smile is enough to make her beam with joy. 

Even though there’s large gaps between contact and her heart yearns for him, she just can’t wait until they get to talk again. 

She goes to bed thinking about future dates with him, the things she’d like to do to him, both clean and dirty, her mind travelled through a million universes where they were happy and together and it worked out for them. 

He’s the first thought in her mind when she wakes up the next morning too, way too early, she checks her phone to see it’s 7 am on a Sunday and there’s no reason for her to be up. 

But she checks her email anyway. 

Dr. Reid: we caught the other unsub just a few hours after you sent that. We have a bunch of work left to do, but we should be flying home soon. I’m in my hotel room now, I get to sleep for 3 hours before the plane home, if you’re awake, give me a call.

He only sent that 24 minutes ago, there was a good chance he was still awake, so she dials his number and hits call. 

It rings twice and then he’s there. 

“Andy.” 

She can hear the smile on his face and her heart stops, he feels just the same way she did… which meant he might want her more than a friend too… more than a best friend even…  

Being Spencer Reid’s lover would be really nice. 

“Spence,” she uses his nickname too. “How are you?” 

“Tired,” he admits. “Exhausted, actually. I haven’t slept since Thursday night.” 

“Oh my god, Spence?” She worries for him, sitting straight up in her bed with a hand on her heart. “That’s not healthy at all, you need to get some sleep soon?” 

“But I missed you?” 

“That’s cute but after prohibiting your brain from sleeping for 36 hours, serious symptoms can arise, it’s not healthy,” the psychology student in her jumped out. 

“Talk to me until I fall asleep then?” He whispers. She can hear rustling like he’s shuffled down his bed and adjusted his head on the pillow. “Isn’t it early for you too? Shouldn’t you get more sleep?” 

“Okay, mister—

“Doctor,” he corrects her. “You know, I pissed your dad off today, well, yesterday actually, and reminded him I was a doctor…” 

“What did you do?” She can’t help but wonder. 

“He was treating me like a kid, thinking I didn’t know what was going on with Gideon and Strauss… It annoyed me so I snapped back and asked him why Gideon always introduces me as Doctor Reid.” 

“And why does he?” Andy ponders. 

“Because people see me as a kid and I deserve respect,” he states it very clearly, he’s stern and affirming, it’s worthy of respect. 

“You’re hot when you stand up for yourself,” she praises him. 

“Don’t turn me on, I need to sleep, remember?” 

It makes her laugh, “I know, I know… it’s too bad we can’t have a sleepover.”

“I know,” he agrees, “you’re very cuddly and soft. And you smell good.” 

“So do you,” she can’t stop smiling. Flirting with him like this, miles and miles away from one another, but still affecting the other's heart like they were beating side by side. 

He hums, “you’re right…” 

“About?” 

“36 hours…” he yawns, “‘m sleepy.” 

She sighs, relaxing into her bed with her phone pressed to her ear, “go to sleep, Spence, I’ll talk to you when you wake up.” 

“Okay, angel,” he whispers, and then he’s out. 

His breathing changes, it almost sounds like he’s snoring, but she can’t bring herself to hang up. She just listens, stuck in the moment… he really called her angel, as if being with him wasn’t heaven enough. 

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