#gonna ask about more hours on tuesday when i work and then go drop a resume at the other store thursday next week probably

[loverboybitch]

think i am finally going to quit the job that i hate.//.

[luveline]

Hi!!

Could a please request Peter Parker x reader where they’ve been together for a while and discuss family planning? Like they want to start a family together but both have anxieties for different reasons with Peter being Spider-Man and just general nerves at this being a big step and they comfort one another?

If you get round to this then thank you!!!

thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

“But you’re Spider-Man.” 

Peter doesn’t know how you ended up like this, his face at your feet, his feet past your head in his pillows. Your toes wiggle in your socks unthinkingly. 

“I’m Spider-Man.” 

“How are we s’posed to have a baby if you’re a superhero?” 

You ask it without malice; you aren’t telling him to do one thing or another, you’re just posing a simple question. Or, not so simple. Thinking about it provokes a hundred different questions, and he gets your point. How can he be a father if he’s a superhero, half the time? How can he expect you to sign on to motherhood while he risks his life? 

He has to prove that he can do it without getting hurt. Without getting anyone hurt. 

“I’ve been Spider-Man for a long time,” he says softly. 

You pretend to drop your foot on his face. He laughs and curls into you, an arm around your leg like a wonky cuddle. “And it gets more dangerous every year.” 

“I would… being Spider-Man is…” Peter noses at your leg. Your pyjama pants are hiked up near your knee, leaving a calf open for his mouth to brush against. “I’m Spider-Man,” he says again. That’s the simplest explanation. He just is Spider-Man. “But I would change things. I already have, I mean, I have you to think about now.” 

“I just don’t know if I’d be okay with having a baby, if you might die.” 

Peter sits up. He frowns. “I’m not going to die.” 

You just nibble your lip. 

“Is that something you worry about?” 

You sit up to meet him. “Of course I do.” 

He’s thankful you’re close. He takes your hand, turning your wedding ring to see the stone laid at the apex. You used to worry so much it would make you sick, and he changed to make that easier on you, because he loves you. What was the point in getting married if he was gonna leave you in agony every time he left the house? Newspapers scorned a more careful Spider-Man, and Peter has had to make some hard calls. He can’t be selfless anymore —he thinks about you every time he throws a new web. 

He didn’t realise you were still worried. “When was the last time I got hurt?” 

“Last night.” 

He winces. “Alright, when was the last time I got hurt enough to need medical attention?”

“Last Tuesday.” 

“Bub, that was one finger, it healed in two hours.” 

“But if you were a normal guy, it would’ve been weeks.” You aren’t out to torture him, or argue, your lips puckered for a quick kiss as he pulls you toward him. “I’m just saying,” you murmur, tapping his nose, your eyebrow pressed against his, “if you want a baby with me? You’re gonna have to give up even more. Okay?” 

“Okay,” he says immediately. 

Okay. Because he’s Spider-Man, and it means everything to him, but he’s your husband. This is your life together. 

“I want a baby with you,” he says, a murmur to match your own as his hands wrap around your waist. He drags you forward, your faces still smushed together. “I want kids, and you want them too, and I want you to have everything. So if you need me to change, I can change. I can’t stop, but I can make it work.” 

“You’d have to stop sometimes–”

He leans away and cups your shoulder. “I know. I’m not gonna get you pregnant and go out every night.” 

“Just every other.” 

“No, no,” he insists softly. “Bub, listen to me. If you’re ready, then I’m ready. No messing around. I’m your partner, right? I’m your husband before I’m Spider-Man.” 

“Are you sure?” you ask. 

Peter’s not mad, but he’s a little upset you’d think so. He’s not trying to make you feel this way. He wants you to have total confidence in him, and your potential future family.

“You need me to tell you that? I’ve never been more sure about anything.” 

He doesn’t need you to agree to a baby tonight or anything, he just wants you to be happy with him. So he tells you emphatically that you’re his world. You already know why he’s Spider-Man, the responsibility that drives him, but there’s responsibility in being with you and making you happy. At the end of the day, you come first. He wishes you knew that, but he doesn’t mind telling you. 

It’s a little later with his arms around you, right side up this time, that he confesses, “I don’t even know if I’d be a good dad.” 

You aren’t worried. “That’s silly. As long as you don’t get killed by a giant radioactive reptile, you’ll be amazing.”

“How do you know?” 

“Same way you know I’ll be a good mom.” 

“You will be.”

You kiss his neck. “I knew you’d say that. I don’t know if I’ll be a good mom, I just know you believe in me.” 

“I do.”

“You’ll be a good dad,” you further, pressed as far into his neck as you can be, lavished by his hands running up and down your back. “I know parenting is a lot of things, but I really think it’s the same as being a good boyfriend. You’re kind. You’re so patient. You’re funny. I can’t wait to have a little baby that looks like you n…” You sigh. He loves that touch of wistfulness behind it. “I can’t wait to be a family with you.” 

“Are you tired?” he asks. 

You mumble. “Mm. Just a bit.” 

He strokes your neck. “I can’t wait to be a family, either… maybe it can wait until tomorrow, though.” 

You smile into his jaw, dragging yourself up to kiss his cheek. “Love you, Peter Parker.” 

[avis-writeshq]

01 — better than revenge

summary: “she’s not a saint, no, she’s not what you think. she’s an actress.”  pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn warnings: fluff, angst with a happy ending, Lila is a real piece of work here, VERY CANON COMPLIANT, Spencer’s a bit of an ass :( wc: 10.4k a/n: special mention to @astrophileous for beta reading MWAH SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

“Hey kid, wheels up in thirty.” Derek nods towards you, dropping a case file on your desk. 

You raise an eyebrow, flicking open the case file to the first page. A small laugh of disbelief leaves your lips. “Ooh, Los Angeles, media capital of the world. What’s the occasion?”

“Three murders, all shot in the head executional style.” 

Your face falls into a grimace as you grab your go-bag and tuck the file under your arm, following the rest of the team to the jet. “Spence and Gideon are there already, right? Talk about timing.”

Elle can’t help but grin at your words, slinking an arm over your shoulder. “Looks like you’ll see loverboy a lot sooner than you think.”

A shriek of betrayal leaves your lips as you throw her arm off of you. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Sure you don’t,” JJ all but cackles as she boards the plane, grinning the entire way. 

“I’m gonna kill you,” you grumble, dropping your things on one of the seats in the jet. “Seriously, I mean it. I know how to get away with murder.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow at you, his gaze that of a disappointed yet amused father. “Not the brightest thing to say while you’re in a room full of FBI agents.”

Elle lets out a ‘hah!’ as she sits across from you, crossing one leg over the other as she grins. “Get comfortable, buttercup, six hour flight and you’re not going anywhere.”

“Assholes.” You roll your eyes teasingly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you turn to your case files. “And it’s not like that.”

“Oh, of course not,” Elle snickers, “you’re just friends.”

You throw a pen at her and it bounces off her leg harmlessly. “I can smell the sarcasm.”

“You’ll be smelling more of it,” Derek laughs, ruffling your hair. “Sit tight, kid, we’re in for a long flight.”

Once everyone was settled and the jet was high in the air, the team began to look through the files with Garcia on speaker as usual. 

“First two victims, Wally Melman and Chloe Harris,” You recite dutifully, glancing over the grotesque crime scene images. “Seems like they were both killed in public places.”

“Chloe was killed while walking her dog on the beach in Santa Monica which she did every morning, and Wally was killed outside of a massage parlour,” JJ reiterates, sitting down with a cup of tea in her hand. 

“In Culver City,” Derek adds. 

“Which he went to every Tuesday,” Elle continues.

Derek looks to the rest of the team, a thoughtful look on his face. “Well, if he knows their schedules, maybe that means he follows his victims for a while.”

“And not a single witness. So we know this UnSub can blend in,” Hotch mutters. “Regardless of the location, he has the ability to hide in plain sight.”

“So, he’s meticulous.” Elle nods, her eyes drifting from Hotch to the case file. 

“The media is calling Natalie Ryan’s murder the biggest celebrity homicide since Sharon Tate,” JJ adds, looking through the images of the newspaper clippings that were sent to her laptop.

“Great,” You muse, although frustration is clear in your voice. “What does that mean for us?”

Hotch lets out a sigh. “That everybody will be watching.”

***

“This guy is an assassin?” Detective Kim asks with disbelief as the rest of the team reiterates their thoughts once they were in the police department. 

“When you look at the victimology, there’s no obvious links,” Morgan points out. “All the kills were clean except in the instance of the last victim, Jeremy Collins.”

You nod, tucking a strand of hair as you reference the case files. “There’s absolutely no evidence left at the crime scene. Labs have found zero DNA, no manifestation of psychosexual release, and from what we can tell there’s no detectable signature of any kind. These kills are straight forward, almost like he’s on a mission.”

“Remember, our profiles are formulated not just by what’s present at the scene but also what’s absent,” Gideon says to Detective Kim.

“From all the evidence that we’ve gathered, we believe you’re looking for a Type Four Assassin,” Elle explains.

“Type Four?” 

Spencer immediately jumps in to explain, gesticulating throughout his explanation. “Type One’s are political assassins like John Wilkes Booth. Type Two’s are egocentrics looking for simple recognition.”

“Type Three’s are psychopaths,” Hotch continues, “cold-blooded killers who leave far messier scenes. Type Four, our UnSub, suffers from a major mental disorder and is frequently delusional.”

“The closer we come to figuring out that delusion, the closer we’ll get to finding the UnSub,” Reid points out. 

Everyone is left to their own thoughts and you look over to Spencer, a soft grin on your face. “How was your father-son bonding time?”

Spencer gives you a pointed look, but a soft laugh leaves his lips. “It was… fine.”

“Fine? Out of everyone on the team, Gideon chose you to present a talk about behavioural analysis and profiling to the LAPD. You love conferences. C’mon, give me something!” You nudge his shoulder gently. 

“We uh.. we went to an art gallery the other day. We met a movie star, so that was cool…” his cheeks are dusted with a soft pink as he talks and your curiosity only increases. 

“A movie star, huh? Look at you, mingling with the high and mighty.” You poke his cheek with a laugh. “Tell me about them.”

He flushes at the contact, clearing his throat. “Um… her name is Lila Archer. Have you heard of her? She’s–”

“Reid, (L/N), we’re meeting with someone,” Derek cuts in, nodding towards the both of you.

You blink in confusion as you follow him to another room. “Suspect?”

“Someone received a note,” Derek says quickly, glancing over at the note in Elle’s hands. “On a newspaper clipping of the latest murder.”

“Lila?”

A blonde woman was sitting in the next room over, her legs crossed over as she waits. Her eyes light up in recognition and she stands up. You can’t help but be impressed as you give her a quick once over. She’s gorgeous, exactly what you expect from a famous movie star. 

“I’m Agent (L/N),” You say gently, moving from your spot next to Spencer and holding your hand out. “This is Agent Morgan and I’m assuming you already know Doctor Reid. I understand that you received a note this morning?”

She wearily shakes your hand, her blue eyes flitting between you and Reid. “Yeah.”

“We just have a few questions to ask. We know that these things are sensitive, but we promise we’ll try to make the situation as easy as possible for you.” You shoot her a kind smile, excusing her weariness for fear or anxiety. “Is that alright?”

“Sure.” She respond curtly, shooting a smile towards Spencer before walking past you.

“Uh… okay?” You let out a little laugh in confusion and Derek raises an eyebrow at you.

“What was that about?” He asks, frowning.

You shrug your shoulders, watching as Spencer leads her to an empty desk. “Trust me, I have no idea. Maybe she’s just nervous and wants to talk to a familiar face.”

Derek hums in thought. “Maybe. But usually victims like this are more willing to speak to someone of the same gender. It’s strange that she was so direct to you.”

“She’s been through a traumatic experience. If I got a newspaper clipping with a message written in blood, I probably wouldn’t be too thrilled meeting new people either,” You defend, pursing your lips. “She’s probably just… scared, right?”

He doesn’t respond, moving to follow Spencer and Lila further into the police department. A few questions were asks about her relationship with the other victims, only to find that she was in fact the connection between the other victims. Wally Melman was a producer who Lila met with a few times to discuss a role, only for him to cast Natalie Ryan instead. Chloe Harris looked an awful lot like Lila, so it was likely that the UnSub got rid of her in order to ‘ice-out’ the competition. 

“(L/N), may I talk to you for a moment?” Hotch asks quickly, waving you over. 

You blink in confusion but nod, walking over to where he stands by the desk. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“I want you to try and get as much information from Lila as possible.” He gestures to where Lila sits in one of the victim waiting rooms. “This is your area of expertise. Try and find out if there’s any distinct information that she’s given to anyone so that we can track the UnSub.”

“Got it.” You offer a smile, fixing your shirt as you agree. “I’ll update you if I get any new information.”

You make your way over to where Lila was sitting, trying to look as friendly as possible. “Hey, Lila. Are you alright? Can I get you anything?”

She glances over you for a second, looking you up and down before shaking her head. “I’m fine. Where’s Spencer?”

Your brows furrow at his words. “Doctor Reid…? He’s currently going through the timeline of events with our colleagues. In the meantime, I was hoping to ask a few questions, maybe shed some light on the entire situation.”

She raises an eyebrow before nodding. “Okay.”

“Alright…” you clear your throat, taking a seat across from her. “You mentioned that you receive a bowl of red anemones on the seventh of every month. Do you mind… telling me why you like those flowers so much?”

She shrugs dismissively, running a hand through her blonde hair. “They’re pretty. I like the colour.”

You nod slowly, writing that down in your notes. “Well that’s understandable; they’re very beautiful flowers. But they’re a little uncommon as a favourite flower, don’t you think? If you like the colour, a more common favourite flower would be poppies or roses… are you sure there isn’t another reason? The meaning behind red anemones is forsaken love and death… does that intrigue you at all?”

She scoffs, “are you trying to accuse me of something?”

“Not at all,” you say quickly, “I apologise if it comes off that way. I’m just trying to find out as much as possible about the entire situation. For all we know, those flowers could have been sent by the UnSub.”

A short silence lulls in the room as well as an awkward tension. So, you try to take things from another angle. 

“I love hydrangeas,” you say gently, a small smile on your lips. “I like the way they’re always bunched together and the colours are beautiful. Only a few people know that I like them though. My close friend and colleagues, my family… do you remember telling anyone about your favourite flower?”

She’s quiet for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know.”

Your face falls and you press a little more. “Are you sure you don’t remember? Maybe… maybe your manager, or a friend of yours?”

“I said ‘I don’t know’, okay?” She snaps, her hands balling into fists as she glares at you. “God, it’s not that hard to understand.”

You lean back in your chair, your gaze hardening. “I understand that this is difficult for you, but any information–”

“I don’t have any information!” Lila huffs, her hands placed in her lap. “Are you stupid or something?”

“The likelihood of these people being murdered because of you is incredibly high,” You say sharply, shutting your notebook. “If you’re withholding information from us it could prove detrimental to the investigation. I’m only trying to do my job. Asking you questions is part of my job.”

Her lips twitch at your words and she scowls. “I already told you I don’t remember.”

“Not remembering and not knowing are two different things, Ms Archer.” You place your card on the table. “If you remember anything, please give me a call.”

You get up from your seat, heading to the door, only to see that it was wide open with Derek and Spencer standing at the doorway. In seconds, Lila’s gaze softens and she runs out of the room, sniffling as she does. Your gaze follows her as she runs out of the police station, a look of disbelief on your features.

“What the…”

“Seriously (Y/N)?” Spencer demands, a frown on his face. 

You gape at his words. “What are you–”

He cuts you off, running after Lila. Derek raises an eyebrow in their direction before turning to you. 

“You okay, pretty girl?” Derek asks gently, patting your shoulder. 

“Honestly? I have no idea,” You confess quietly, biting your lip. “I’ve never seen him get so…”

“Upset? Angry?” he finishes, a small laugh leaving his lips. “You and me both. Look, kid, it’s not your fault. She was clearly being dismissive of your questions and she needed a reality check.”

“It’s not like I’ve never spoken that way when interrogating someone before,” You point out, brows furrowed in frustration. “Even then, Spencer has never had an issue with it. I just– I don’t understand what’s got him so worked up.”

Derek can’t help but laugh. “You’re a profiler. Isn’t it obvious?”

You pause for a moment, thinking through their interaction. “He has a crush on her, doesn’t he? He likes her. Of course he does. Brilliant, now he’s involved.”

Derek pats you on the back sympathetically. “Come on, pretty girl. We’ve got a job to do.”

***

Despite your original hesitancy, Hotch asked you personally to go with the others, meaning that you had no right to refuse. Well, you could, but that would mean throwing Elle under the bus and she would be much more helpful at the precinct than on set. So, before you could fake being sick and bail the investigation, you,  Derek, and Spencer went to check out the set of Lila’s movie, hoping to better observe her interactions with her costars and the staff. 

The inside of Lila’s small trailer is hot. Incredibly hot but relatively empty. As you look around, you gather that she’s either a minimalist or just didn’t have to spend a lot time in the trailer at all. Lila sits in front of the little group, wearing a robe to cover her costume: a cyan sequinned bikini set that she looked absolutely criminal in. Her hair has been styled in a classic blowout and you wonder how much time it took to get it to look so effortless.

“I’m not stopping my life,” she says, her voice almost stern as she steps out of the trailer and back onto the set.

You purse your lips as you glance at the paper in the plastic pocket, now labelled as ‘evidence’. Apparently it was taped up to the door of her trailer. Your eyes shift to Spencer who’s gaze doesn’t leave the door that Lila just walked out of for much longer than necessary. Neither of you have spoken since yesterday’s incident.

You hum thoughtfully, as you pull out your notebook, glancing at the notes you’ve been making. “Well, I guess the only thing we can do is talk to the people on set. Maybe they saw something. I’ll see if I can find out who has access to Lila’s trailer.”

Spencer nods in your direction. “Yeah, that’s… that’s a good idea.”

One of your eyebrows quirk up. “Okay…? Why do you sound so surprised?”

He flushes under your scrutiny, clearing his throat as the three of you begin to walk out of the trailer and towards the set. “I’m not! I– I’m not surprised. You’re good at your job.”

“You didn’t seem to think that yesterday,” You respond lightly, your tone petty and passive aggressive, gaze flickering between the cameras and lights on set. 

Derek coughs awkwardly before excusing himself and entering further into the set leaving you and Spencer alone outside by a vending machine. Spencer falters at your words and he runs a hand through his hair. The harsh Los Angeles sun beats down against your skin and you fiddle with the notebook in your hands. In turn, he fixes up his sleeves, rolling them up to his elbow, giving you a clear view of his forearms and large hands. 

“I’m sorry,” He says softly, chewing on his bottom lip. “I didn’t– I was out of line.”

“You were,” You agree, your gaze shifting between the chilled bottled drinks in the vending machine and him. “Buy me a drink and we’ll call it even.”

A boyish grin grows on his face and he nods, pulling out his wallet. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, awesome. Iced coffee?”

“You know me so well,” you respond with an equally large smile, poking his cheek. “Thank you!”

He presses a few buttons, grabbing a Cola for himself. You can’t help but laugh, giving him a pointed look. He quickly moves to defend himself, “It’s a hot day, okay? An exception.”

“An exception,” You repeat, trying to hide your smile as you crack open the lid of your drink and take a sip. “What happened to ‘Cola has 50 grams of sugar in it. That’s the equivalent of eating two full bars of milk chocolate’?”

He pouts at your words, opening his drink and you watch as a few bubbles rise to the top of the bottle. He takes a swig of his drink, sighing in content. “Shut up.”

You laugh again once you officially enter the set, nudging Spencer with your arm teasingly. He nudges you back, rolling his eyes and poking your cheek. You retaliate by doing the same, swinging your drink as you walk. 

Before you could do or say anything else, Derek taps your shoulder. “Hey, I need to talk to you about something.”

Spencer’s brows furrow. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just wanted to cross reference answers,” Derek dismisses. 

“Let me pull up my list,” You respond helpfully, grabbing your notebook. “Hey, Spence, do you mind canvassing the rest of the crew? See if anyone pays any special attention on Lila?”

He nods at your words, moving towards Lila, sipping on his drink. In the meantime, you turn towards Derek, a curious look on your face. 

“Little Miss Madonna has been glaring at you since the moment you entered the set,” Morgan says quietly, his gaze flitting to where Lila was making coffee. 

You practically snap your neck as you look up in her direction, watching as she quickly fumbles to make herself a cup of something. You turn away and you could practically feel her gaze burning against your scalp. A frown makes its way onto your face and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. You glance over to where she and Spencer were talking, blanching when you watch as she takes a swig of his Cola.

“You don’t mind, do you?” You hear her ask as she drinks and Spencer hurriedly shakes his head.

A quiet scoff leaves your lips and Derek nudges you with a look that reads ‘behave.’ You lift your hands in surrender and follow him over to where Spencer now stands by himself, Lila gone to talk to some other staff member.

“An exception, huh?” You ask Spencer, referring to his aversion to germs and sharing food. Your tone is mostly teasing despite the underlying bitterness beneath it. 

“Shut up.” He mutters quietly, cheeks hot from embarrassment of being caught.

Derek snorts, clapping his shoulder before moving on.

***

The next day, you were going over the evidence that was provided by the LAPD. Considering that it was a relatively young case, there weren’t copious amounts of evidence, meaning that there were still untied strings to go through. The entire situation proved more difficult than necessary; no one seemed to notice anything  amiss when it came to Lila and her relationships, and considering that the actress wasn’t very forthcoming with the information she knew, you were hitting dead-end after dead-end. 

Although geographical profiling was more of Spencer’s expertise than yours, you figured it wouldn’t do anyone harm by triangulating the previous three murders. He was standing beside you, his presence not unwelcome as he guides you step by step on how to plot an understandable and accurate profile. Hotch had asked him to coach you through the entire situation and explain his point of view, as well as his thought process when it came to geographical profiling. With a comfort zone now clearly expressed, you were discussing probable suspects on the phone with Garcia.

“Will Hunter… currently the town hermit, previous criminal record of armed battery and robbery,” Garcia recites, and you pull up his file.

“Mm… maybe? No, I don’t think so. His crimes don’t match the UnSub’s profile. He seems to be messier, uh, tending to use bats and knives than a clean shot to the head. And the profile suggests that the UnSub is able to blend in with the crowd.” You hum in thought, turning to Spencer.

“Hermits like Will Hunter wouldn’t be able to do that,” He explains to Garcia, putting his file into the ‘unlikely’ folder.

Garcia sighs in frustration and you can hear her furiously type away on her computer. “How about–”

“Hold that thought,” Elle says quickly, cutting Penelope off apologetically. “(Y/N), did you know Lila’s here?”

You blink in confusion, slowly shaking your head no. “She’s here? I didn’t get any calls from her.”

Elle shrugs at your words. “She looks like she’s going to burn a hole through your head.”

Your brows furrow and your gaze shifts to the blonde woman through the office window. She has her arms folded over her chest, a scowl on her face, before her cheeks burn in embarrassment of being caught. Spencer follows your gaze, his face lighting up at the sight of the actress. It’s almost as if he has selective hearing when it comes to his celebrity crush, clearly not hearing the part where Elle points out that Lila has been glaring at you the entire time.

“Can we talk outside?” You ask Elle quickly, getting up from your seat, not taking no for an answer.

Spencer opens his mouth to say something before he shuts it, watching as you drag your other co-worker out of the room. Your attention shifts between Lila and Elle, your brows furrowing. 

“What is it?” You ask, your back turned towards the actress. “Why is she here?”

“She gave me a list of people who know what her favourite flower is,” Elle says quietly.

Your ears go red at her words, your eyes practically bulging out of your head. “Excuse me?”

“She called me yesterday,” she explains, handing you the list of people. “She said that she remembers who they were and came in today to give me a list of people.”

You scoff in disbelief, throwing your hands up in the air in frustration. “I gave her my card.”

“She called and asked for me.” 

You scoff again, rolling your eyes. “Oh, so suddenly she can remember everything when she talks to you, but nothing when she talks to me? She’s not very slick.”

The door behind you opens, revealing Spencer who has been listening in the entire time. His jaw is clenched and a frown is etched upon his features as he looks at you accusingly. 

“Maybe she just didn’t remember,” he points out harshly as you and Elle re-enter the room.

An incredulous look makes its way into your face. “Excuse me?”

“She didn’t remember, and now she does,” Spencer says, and from the corner of your eye you watch Elle slowly leave the room once more. The door closes with a soft click.

“That doesn’t change the fact that she went to Elle and not to me,” you respond, trying to keep your voice even and your words clear. You take a deep breath in an effort to calm yourself down.

Spencer scowls at you. “Maybe she has every right to go to Elle after you snapped at her the first time you tried to talk to her.”

“Are you– are you being serious right now?” A humourless laugh leaves your lips as you glare up at him. “Look, Reid, I’m sorry that I’m not her biggest fan and that I don’t kiss the ground she walks on, but I was doing my job. A job that I believe I am quite good at. It’s not like speaking harshly is unheard of when it comes to the retrieval of information.”

He flinches when you call him by his last name but he stands his ground. “If you were so good at your job, you wouldn’t have to speak to her that way,” he argues, and you can see the vein in his forehead begin to protrude.

His words sting and bite you and suddenly you feel your resolve snapping. “You know what?” The words are slow and deliberate as they leave your lips, and you jab a finger against his chest. “I get that you have a crush on her and that you’re finally going through puberty but that does not mean that you can ignore the job you are currently on.”

He swallows thickly and he opens his mouth to retaliate but you push your finger against his chest once more.

“I am not finished.” Your voice is low with frustration and annoyance as you scowl, glaring up at him. “I don’t care who you’re attracted to or who you want to sleep with. I don’t give a damn if that someone is victim in the investigation because it’s not my problem. I do, however, have a problem when you undermine my ability to do my job and do nothing to fix it.

The worst part is the fact that you’re my friend. You’re supposed to be supportive and helpful and– and– and understanding.” Your mouth is moving quicker than your brain can register and you’re stumbling over your words as you snap at him. “I’m supposed to be able to go to you if I’m going through something. I should be able to talk to you if someone or something is bothering me, but now I’m just afraid that you’ll call me crazy and then criticise me all over again.”

His face falls and he looks at you like a kicked puppy as the words slowly sink in. He reaches out to you, his hazel eyes searching your face but the only emotion that you’re showing is anger. You push his hand away, the frown set on your eyebrows. It’s only then when you realise that Garcia has been listening into the conversation the entire time, your heart lurching to a stop when you hear her cough on the other side of the line.

“Um… is now a bad time to say that I didn’t get any other hits for the profile?” She asks tentatively through the speaker, and you feel your face burning.

“I need air,” you announce to no one in particular, before grabbing your files and storming out of the room.

Elle catches your arm on the way out, her eyebrows knitted together in concern. “(Y/N)-“

“Hey. Sorry.” You bite your lip, loosening the grip you have on your papers. “Where’s Hotch?”

“With Derek and Gideon,” she says gently. “Lila got another note and we’re going to check on her manager. Do you want to come with?”

You exhale before nodding. “Yeah. That’d be good.”

“Okay.” She squeezes your arm gently, her eyes flitting between you and Spencer who was inside the conference room, pacing back and forth. “Is… everything alright?”

“Honestly? No.” You offer her a wry smile, shoving your files into your bag. “But it’s fine.”

She chuckles a little in disbelief, leading you to the black SUVs outside. Derek and Gideon were already there, waiting patiently for the two of you while Hotch has already left in another SUV. Apparently the ‘no profiling each other’ rule was thrown out the window as soon as they saw the state you were in, and Derek quickly makes his way over to you.

“(Y/N), are you–”

“I’m fine,” you snap, before closing your eyes tightly and letting out a deep breath. “Sorry, Morgan. I’m okay, just had an argument with Reid.”

At that, his eyebrows shoot upwards. “Since when did you call him ‘Reid’? And what do you mean you had a fight with him? He literally can’t say no to you.”

“Yeah, that was before a Miss Archer walked into the room,” you mutter bitterly. “Shot a literal arrow through his heart. She put her name to good use. I never stood a chance.”

“Hey now, don’t say that,” Elle says, climbing into the SUV. You follow closely behind and she continues. “He’s just confused right now.”

You can’t help but scoff. “I really doubt that.”

Gideon starts the car, looking at you through the rear view mirror. “You’re a profiler. What do you really think?”

The words die at your tongue and you deflate into the seat of the car. You hate to admit it, but Gideon is right. You should be able to figure out exactly what Spencer is thinking. After all, he’s your best friend– you shouldn’t have to be worrying about guessing games when it comes to him.

Hotch is the first to arrive at the manager’s office, watching as your group pull up in front of the building. Once everyone clambours out of the car, they enter the building, a sigh of relief leaving them as they enjoy the air conditioned lobby. With a flash of a badge, the receptionist is quick to tell you which floor and room number Michael was in.

“Floor 11, Room 03,” you mumble to yourself as you scribble it down in your notes.

The elevator ride is silent and you rock back and forth on your feet as the lift begins to rise. Your head is spinning with thoughts and regrets as you consider the harsh words that you spat at Spencer’s face less than an hour ago. You must not have been hiding your frustration well because Hotch finally says something. 

“Is everything alright?” He asks, much like a father would when their child is having a tantrum. It’s fitting.

You shrug. “I will be.”

“Is it to do with Reid?” 

You cough awkwardly, glancing back at the notes in your hand. “That obvious?”

Derek snorts from behind you. “Yeah, a little.”

“Everyone knows you’re in love with him,” Elle adds, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“I am– I am not in love with him!” You all but shriek, shooting her a half hearted glare and you stutter out a response. “I mean, I– uh– I like him but–“

“You are a horrible liar,” Derek cackles and you groan. 

Hotch and Gideon watch amused at the interaction, and the latter finally pipes in.

“Profiling isn’t something you can just turn off,” he explains to you, his tone gentle. He reminds you of a grandfather giving advice to their youngest grandchild, and a small smile makes its way onto your face. He continues to speak, “it’s subconscious and it becomes a habit. The only time it stops is when you either need it most, or when you don’t want to see anything.”

The elevator comes to a stop on the eleventh floor and Michael’s office wasn’t far away. The writing on the frosted glass reads ‘1103, Michael Ryer & associates, talent management’ and Elle raps on the door.

“Hello?” 

“Mr Ryer?” Gideon calls.

She knocks a few times again before opening the door entirely. “Michael–”

You’re met with Michael Ryer, dead in his arm chair and shot to the head, just like all the other victims. Despite having faced these circumstances before, you still feel sick to the stomach as you stare at Michael’s lifeless body and soulless eyes. It’s unnerving.

“Up until now every victim was a person who could be perceived as a threat to Miss Archer,” Hotch comments as they enter the room, pulling out his phone.

“Yeah, but Michael was a friend,” Elle says with a frown.

You look up from your notes. “He was a threat to the stalker.”

In less than twenty minutes, the LAPD dispatched forensics and evidence teams to the office. Lila and Spencer were on their way back to her house, deciding that it was best to deny the stalker access to her. You rifle through Michael’s belongings: his schedules, his files… everything until you come to one particular manila envelope. 

“Morgan, Elle, look at this,” you murmur, pulling the photos out of the envelope. “Pictures of Lila… nude.”

A flash of a grimace passes along Elle’s face, but it’s gone as quickly as it appears. “He was probably paying someone to keep them out of the press.”

“The name on the file says Joe Martinez,” Derek mutters, turning the envelope over.

The name must have struck a chord, because Detective Kim’s head immediately snaps around to look at you. “Paparazzo?”

You blink. “You know this guy?”

“Yeah, I deal with him a lot,” Kim responds, his face stoic. 

“We should follow that lead,” You comment, tucking the photos back in the envelope and looking over at Detective Kim and Derek. “I’m ready to go when you are?”

After an okay from Hotch, you, Derek, and Detective Kim make your way over to the Joe Martinez’s place. After knocking on the door to his place multiple times, Derek decides to open it in the way he knows best: by kicking it down. You grip your gun, holding it out in front of you as you travel through the hallways. 

“Clear!” You yell out upon pushing another door open, seeing nobody inside.

“(Y/N), you need to check this out,” comes Morgan’s call, and you follow the direction of his voice

Pinned above a small desk are picture upon pictures of Lila Archer. When she has lunch, when she’s out with her friends… it’s almost as if this person has completely documented her life. It’s a little nerve wracking, knowing that someone could follow you and take photos without anyone even realising.

“Hey is that–” you pause, pulling a piece of paper off the wall. “This is Lila’s schedule.”

Derek blinks in surprise. “I’m guessing he’s not supposed to have that?”

“No,” Detective Kim responds, and your gaze shifts to the table.

“Hey, isn’t that–” you feel your heart practically stop as you see who’s in the photos. 

“That’s Reid,” Derek mutters.

Kim shifts through the photos. “There’s a whole bunch of them,” he says, pulling out at least five or six print outs. “Is he a target now?”

Derek scoffs, throwing the photos on the table and pulling out his phone, making a beeline for the exit. “Not if I can help it.”

You and Detective Kim follow him out, making your way to the SUV. 

“Reid? Hey, it’s Morgan. Listen, you gotta watch your back over there, we just found a bunch of close-up photos of you at this guy Joseph Martinez’s studio. It looks like he could be the UnSub.”

As he speaks you feel your heart pound in your ears. Your head is dizzy with fear and you’re following after Morgan who’s walking unbelievably quickly. 

“He has a ton of photos of Lila and Nathalie plus a call sheet for Lila’s show,” Derek continues, the speed of his walk not wavering. “(Y/N) and I are on our way right now but I need you to be real careful until we get there, all right?”

You look down to shove your notes back into your bag when you hear it. The distinct vrooming of a motorcycle engine. You don’t think too much of it, only turning your head to look over your shoulder, your hand finding the handle of the car door. That’s all it takes for the motorcyclist to drive straight toward you and the others, pointing an arm out.

“Gun!” You manage to scream, just before the UnSub open fires, hitting Detective Kim. 

You dive behind the car, grimacing when your knee collided roughly against the pavement. By the time you manage to recover and grab your gun out of its holster, the UnSub is long gone. You stare as Morgan fires a couple shots before watching the motorcyclist ride off into the LA traffic,  and you turn to Detective Kim.

“You got hit. Where?” You ask, shoving your gun back into its holster.

He grunts in pain, his entire weight on the car as he groans out, “yeah, it’s fine. Just my shoulder.”

“Derek, call for help,” you order, pressing firmly at the wound with your hand to lessen the bleeding. He lets out a cry of pain and you wince. “Sorry, it’s bleeding a lot. Gunshot wound to the shoulder, no exit wound. Seeing as you’re not already dead, I don’t think it hit any major arteries, but it might have busted your collarbone. You’re lucky if that’s the extent of the damage. The shoulder contains a bunch of important and major bloodlines, as well as nerve endings.”

Derek turns to you with a wry smile. “You’re starting to sound like Reid.”

“You spend four years with him, you’ll start to learn a few things,” you respond with a humourless laugh. You continue to press against Detective Kim’s wound, murmuring an apology. 

“You should talk to him,” Derek prompts.

You scoff, “we have a detective bleeding in front of us and the thing you’re worried about is my love life?”

“Isn’t the first rule of relieving pain through distraction?” He asks. You shoot him an unimpressed look and he quickly nods his head. “Okay, sorry.”

Ten minutes later, Detective Kim is hoisted into the ambulance. You cringe as you wash his blood off your hands, once, twice, then a third time to make sure everything is gone. Your shirt has a couple of blood spots and you can’t help but frown; you liked that shirt. At least the stain isn’t too big– just a few splotches here and there. 

“It’s a good thing you held the wound,” an EMT praises, working quickly to secure Kim’s shoulder. “He shattered his collarbone, but you seemed to have managed to control the bleeding.”

If it weren’t for the circumstances, you would have shouted a clear ‘I told you so’ to both Derek and Detective Kim, but you keep your mouth shut.

Hotch, Gideon, and Elle arrive moments later, speaking to Derek about the detective’s injuries. 

“You okay?” Elle asks gently, squeezing your shoulder. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, wringing your hands together. “Just a little jumpy. I’ll be fine.”

“We need to get to her house,” Gideon mutters, glancing at the group. 

Without another moment to lose, you’re clambering into an SUV, gripping the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white. Elle climbs into the passenger seat beside you, her brows knitted together in concern. She opens her mouth to say something but shuts it, watching as you start the car and speed off into the direction of Lila’s house. 

After slamming the door shut and gripping the gun firmly in the palm of your hand, you follow Derek through the back entry of the house. You weren’t even sure if it could even be counted as a ‘house’; the place looked like it had at least five bedrooms on both floors. Derek glances at you, signalling to be quiet, then another to keep your eyes on him. A quiet splashing in the pool alerts your attention, and despite his attempts of getting you to not look, you do. And as soon as you do, you really wish you hadn’t. 

You are met with the sight of Lila Archer in her bikini-clad glory, in the pool with Doctor Spencer Walter Reid. Doctor ‘pools are incredibly unhygienic, harbouring more than 50 million different types of bacteria’ Reid. And as if it couldn’t get any worse, you watch as their lips touch again and again, his hands cupping her face and her hands arms around his neck. 

Spencer pulls away from the kiss, his breath heavy and his head spinning. This is wrong. He’s not supposed to being do this. His brain is short circuiting and it’s even worse when he considers all the germs that could be in this pool. His head spins with the names of viruses and bacteria that could be festering in the waters he was currently in, and then he remembers he has more pressing matters to attend to. Namely the girl who was literally pressing her lips to his. 

He pulls away, stammering over responses. “We can’t– we shouldn’t. I’m a federal agent and you’re–”

Lila stares at him, amused, with her hands cupping his neck. “There’s no one here.”

“I’m supposed to be protecting you,” Spencer tries again, anxiety gnawing at his stomach. This is wrong. Unprofessional. Then his mind wanders to you and the nagging voice in the back of his mind urges him to do something. 

“There are police out front,” Lila says, kissing him again before continuing, “there are coyotes out back.”

“This is completely inappropriate,” Spencer stutters out, his hands reaching for her shoulders. Her skin is cold from the summer night’s breeze, even more so considering how they’re submerged in disgusting chlorine-filled pool water. 

“This?” She presses her lips to his once more. “What’s this?”

“This isn’t–” he swallows thickly, his cheeks flared. “No, there’s this thing called transference–”

Lila pulls away, her stare drifting from his eyes to his lips as she asks, “you don’t like me?”

Spencer blanches at the question. “What?”

“You don’t like me,” Lila repeats, more sure of herself now. “It’s because of her, right?”

He frowns at the insinuation. “‘Her’? Who’s ‘her’?”

“The other person on your team,” Lila says, her words bitter. “You like her don’t you?”

His mouth goes dry and he opens and closes it like a fish out of water. “What?”

“Let me change your mind,” she whispers, bringing her lips to his for the nth time. 

Spencer barely has time to react, his hands moving to the side of her face and he imagines that she’s you. But she’s not you and you would never kiss him in the middle of the pool. You would never pull him in by his tie and cut him off when he’s speaking. He pulls away. 

“Stop. Stop, Lila, I’m sorry, I have to– I have to tell you something.” His mind is blanking. Why is it that when he needs it, his brain shuts off?

“What?” Lila asks, her lips moving to his cheek and then to his jaw. 

“I didn’t want to tell you this before because I was a bit worried.” He’s screaming at himself in his head, kicking himself because ‘why the hell did he just say that?!’ Regardless of the way he wishes he could shut his mouth and run out of the pool, he continues, “I don’t know how to say it but I can’t not tell you.”

“What is it?” She finally pulls away and Spencer lets out a breath of relief.

The relief is short lived because he starts to blab, “Your manager, Michael–”

“What?”

“Gideon went to check on him but he got there too late.” Spencer thinks he’s going to hurl, his mind running a million times an hour and screaming, ‘No you idiot! No, no, no! Out of all the things you could say–’

Lila scrambles out of the pool, clearly distraught, and he reaches out to touch her arm… only to be swatted away with her sobbing and telling him not to touch her. He figures he deserves that and follows out of the pool after her. 

“How could you– how could you not tell me?” Lila demands, her tears mixing with the pool water already on her face. 

“I was afraid you’d be upset,” Spencer says lamely, water dripping from his trousers and he just wants a towel. 

“You– you knew what you knew and… how could you not…?” She’s on the verge of hyperventilating and she looks at him before looking away. 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says quietly, not knowing what else to say.

Lila retreats into her house, shutting the glass sliding door behind her and Spencer can only watch as she throws a pillow at the wall before going up the stairs to her room. He stands there, in the cold, dripping wet from the pool water and he wipes his face with his hand. His gun sits on the table, damp, and he has the urge to scream. Before he could do something exceedingly stupid, the sound of footsteps alert him and he spins around. 

“Elle?”

“We found him in the bushes,” she says to Spencer, nodding to the guy being cuffed by Derek. 

“I told her she should cut those.” He says dismissively, wiping his gun with a towel. He looks at her and then at you. He swallows thickly, noticing the way your eyes look him up and down, the disapproval oozing in your stare. “I– uh– I fell in.”

“Yeah,” you respond, holding the camera up and a sarcastic smile blossoms on your face. “I’m sure there are plenty of photos of it.”

He sighs, “(Y/N)–”

“Hey, stop shoving me, man!” Joe snaps as Derek pushes him to walk forward.

“You’re a suspect in the murder of Wally Melman, Natalie Ryan, and Jeremy Collins.”

You watch as Joe’s face comically contorts from annoyance to confusion as he jumps to defend himself. “Murder? What? Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa–”

“Just shut up with the ‘whoa’. We know for a fact that you have hundreds of photographs of Lila Archer and Natalie Ryan on the walls of your studio. You have Miss Archer’s daily schedule on your desk. You’ve been stalking her.”

“Look, guy, hold up. Every paparazzi’s a celebrity stalker,” Joe says and the rest of the group turn to look at him incredulously. He continues to speak undeterred. “If you don’t stalk them, you don’t get the shot, and if you don’t get the shot, you don’t sell no pictures.”

“Yeah, well this one’s gonna cost you,” you hum, holding the camera in your hands and ripping the film out despite his yells of defiance.

Derek steps forward, pushing Joe to keep him walking. “Tell it to your lawyer.”

“Wh– I’m still being locked up?”

“That’s right, at the very least you’re trespassing.”

Elle and Derek walk Joe out of the premises, and you push the pulverised film against Spencer’s chest. He grips it in his hands, a soft ‘oof’ leaving his lips at the contact. 

“You’re welcome,” you mutter, albeit a little bitterly, as you turn to follow the rest of your team out.

“(Y/N), listen, it didn’t mean anything,” he says softly, squeezing the film in his fist tightly while the other hand reaches out to you. 

You roll your eyes, opening up the sliding door. “I told you, Reid, I don’t care who you sleep with.”

He splutters a little, pushing his hair away from his face. “We didn’t– I didn’t– we didn’t sleep together, you know that.”

“Even more reason why I shouldn’t care.”

His hand grips onto your shoulder, turning you around so that you’re facing him. “But you do. ‘Shouldn’t’? You care. You clearly obviously care, (Y/N).”

“I don’t,” you deny, pushing his hand away. “Reid–”

“Stop calling me that.”

“–it doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I’m leaving.”

He grabs onto your arm, stopping your retreat. “Why are you being like this?”

“I am not ‘being like’ anything!”

“(Y/N).”

“Doctor, this is highly unprofessional.”

He has to stop the frustrated groan that was moments away from leaving his lips as he stares at you. His eyes ghost over your frame, stopping directly at the dark red splotches on your shirt.

“What happened?” He demands, taking a step closer. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

“Who’s blood is that?”

“Detective Kim’s.”

“What– were you shot at?” 

His hands fly to your face, trembling and cold, and you would have thought it was romantic if he didn’t do the exact same thing less than twenty minutes ago with another girl. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you dismiss quietly. 

“Don’t say that.”

“God, you act as if we’re dating or something!” You snap, pulling away from him. 

He stops short, his cheeks and ears reddening at your words. His mind goes blank and suddenly he feels very warm at the idea. Dating you? Every moment he had with Lila in that pool is nothing compared to the idea of dating you.

He watches as you roll your eyes before tugging your arm out of his grip. He wants to cry out again, to say something, but his head just seems to repeat the words ‘we’re dating’ over and over again. 

“Just forget it, Reid.” You look to the house and your gaze grows steely once more. “Your girlfriend is calling.”

*** 

“I want to try and talk to some of Lila’s close friends,” you say to the others after getting off the phone with Garcia. “According to Penelope, there’s a girl named Maggie Lowe on the list that Lila gave us and they’ve known each other since college. Apparently, they spent a lot of time together and Lila helped her get a job.”

“I’ll go with you,” Elle says instantly, climbing into the car. “Why Maggie?”

You start the ignition, backing out of the driveway and onto the main road, following the GPS directions. “They spend almost all of their time together. I mean, she must have noticed something off, you know?”

Elle nods slowly in understanding. “She knows about the red anemones, right?”

“Yeah. And she was the one who found the note taped to the door.” You pause, thinking through the evidence again. “Her apartment is right in the middle of the comfort zone.”

“You think she could be the UnSub?”

“It all seems too convenient. But then again, we didn’t profile the stalker as a woman. There have got to be some inaccuracies or things we overlooked because of the gender,” you murmur, stopping at a red light. “Call Garcia for me.”

The phone rings once before Penelope’s unmistakable voice chimes through. “Speak my pretties, and you shall be heard!”

“Hey, Pen, can you check what vehicle is registered under Maggie Lowe’s name?” You ask into the speaker, parking in front of the apartment.

“Checking, checking… aha! It’s a Honda Motorcycle, she just got it serviced six and a half months ago.”

“That’s the vehicle that the UnSub was driving when they shot at us,” you mumble in realisation. “Call the others, the UnSub might be Maggie Lowe. We’re checking the apartment now.”

“Gideon and Derek are at the art gallery to talk to Parker Dunley,” Elle points out. “I’ll let them know we’re at her apartment.”

There’s a typing on the other side of the line and Penelope chimes in once more. “Bad news, my loves. The cameras report Lowe’s motorcycle leaving the apartment complex half an hour ago.”

“Garcia, call Reid and tell him what we know. Elle and I are going into the apartment. We might find evidence or clues on who the next victim might be.” 

With that, you hang up, getting out of the car and running up the stairs with Elle hot on your heels. 

“Maggie Lowe?” You call through the door, knocking once then twice. 

You’re met with silence and you grimace, deciding to do Derek’s favourite move: kicking the door down. With a crash, the door slams open and you grip your gun a little tighter in your hand. Bathroom, clear. Kitchen and pantry, clear. Lounge, clear. Bedroom, clear– you stop short. Pictures– framed pictures– of Lila hung around the wall. A cork board with newspaper clipping and magazine cut outs were pinned meticulously to the cork backing, each one with Lila’s face and name circled with bold red marker. 

“Holy shit…” Elle whispers, holstering her gun and staring at the wall. “This is… this is beyond obsession.”

“You’re telling me,” you respond, putting on a blue glove and flipping through the cork board. “Call the others, Maggie is definitely the UnSub. Someone this obsessed must have…” you pause, filing through the desk on the other side of the room, “… a diary. Each murder was described to detail in each entry, as well as her feelings towards Lila.”

Elle grimaces as she looks over your shoulder to read the diary entries. “Grim.”

You huff out a laugh. “Yeah.”

Above her desk are images of Lila. Every single show she’s been in since Julliard, every time she was mentioned in an article, posters, newspaper clippings of the murders… the entire ordeal makes you feel sick. 

Elle sucks in a breath, staring at the desk. “She’s got Lila’s entire life documented.”

“And she’s probably already at Lila’s house,” you mutter, grabbing your phone. “We need to get over there, now.”

*** 

“The city of angels everything you thought it would be?” Derek asks amusedly, leaning against the wall of the jet as he watches you pour your third cup of coffee in the past three hours. 

It’s a couple days after Maggie Lowe was apprehended and the team were on the jet home getting some much needed rest. The aircon was put on full blast and you couldn’t be more grateful for it, enjoying the coolness on your skin in contrast to the hot Los Angeles weather. 

“I’m never coming back here,” you quip, your gaze shifting to where Spencer sits. He’s reading a book but he hasn’t turned a page for the past thirty seconds. “If I were to overthrow America, Los Angeles is the first place to go.”

Derek snorts, his eyebrows raising. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” you huff, finally looking at him. “I’m serious!”

“Sure kid. Totally believe you.”

He’s teasing, a knowing smirk on his face as he watches you chug the coffee with a grimace. Your tongue burns and you fill the cup with water and chug that as well, ignoring the amused look Derek keeps sending you. From the corner of your eye you see Spencer reading his book. At least, it would appear that he was reading to someone who didn’t know him. But you know him. He’s been staring into the pages for the past minute now and that alone was enough to let you know that he was paying more attention to your and Derek’s conversation than to the words on the page. 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes as you sit beside Elle who is already fast asleep. You envy her for a moment as she leans against the plane window, blissfully unaware to your mental torment. Stupid Spencer and his stupidly pretty face. From where you’re sitting you can see the back of his head and you glare at that the ridiculous mop of brown on his head. 

The rest of the plane ride is uneventful and by the time you make it back to the office it’s already late. It’s nearing one in the morning and everyone begins to head home. Derek is yawning as he leaves the office and Elle has a look that screams ‘Don’t talk to me’. Gideon is long gone and Hotch was in his office, packing up the last of his papers and files. 

Spencer is sitting at his desk, combing through the paperwork and stashing a couple pages into his satchel. He bids farewell to Derek and the others before shoving his train pass into his pocket. 

“You’re taking the train?” You ask, finally speaking to him.

His eyebrows raise in surprise and he shifts on his feet, gripping the strap of his bag. “Um, yeah. I took the train here, so...”

“Oh.” You nod, glancing at the clock. “No you’re not.”

He huffs out a laugh. “What?”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you get onto a train at one in the morning,” you say, pointing with your chin to the elevator. “You might be a man and all, but it doesn’t change the statistics.”

You know his weakness. Statistics. Facts. Spencer hates the fact that you know him so well. 

He relents, getting into the elevator with you. “I thought you were mad at me.”

He hears you scoff, pressing B1 on the elevator. “Just because I’m mad at you, doesn’t mean that I’m going to let you do something potentially dangerous.”

He hates the way your words makes his heart flutter and he continues speak. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you did,” you respond curtly, watching as the elevator doors open. “Come on, my car is that way.”

Spencer flinches at your tone. “I’m sorry.”

You laugh. “You don’t even know what you’re sorry for.”

“I–” the words die on his tongue as he wracks his brain. “I thought it was because you didn’t like Lila.”

“That’s true,” you murmur, unlocking the car. “Look, Reid–”

“Please,” he cuts you off, his voice cracking as he practically begs. “Please stop calling me that.”

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes flicker to him as you tug the car door open. “You want me to stop calling you by your name?”

Spencer’s nostrils flare as he gets in the car. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

You laugh again as you start the engine, glancing at the mirrors. “Everyone calls you Reid. It shouldn’t be any different for me.”

He huffs. “But it is different. You’re… different.”

“How?” You challenge, backing out of the parking spot and getting onto the main road. You’ve memorised the route from Quantico to Spencer’s apartment in DC– an almost one hour drive and you understand why Spencer hates driving to and from work. 

He falters before shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. Just please don’t call me by my last name again.”

“Spencer,” You try again, missing the visible relief in his eyes, “I’m not mad at you because of something as miniscule as a girl. You’re entitled to your own relationships outside of work.”

“I don’t under– oh.” The realisation dawns on him when he recalls all the words you threw at him at the precinct. “I wasn’t a very good friend, was I?”

“No, Spencer, you weren’t.” You don’t hesitate to say it and Spencer winces at how quickly you agree with him. “You were unfair and let your emotions get in the way of the case. You criticised me and undermined my authority and then you had the absolute nerve to act as if nothing was wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” he croaks out, the lump in his throat getting bigger. 

“It hurt, Spencer,” you say, and your voice cracks as well. “It hurt because you’re my best friend and I would have supported you through everything. You know that. And I get that friends fight, but I thought that we wouldn’t fight about something as stupid as who you hook up with.”

“I didn’t hook up with her,” Spencer says quietly, and he thinks he might cry. “I’m serious, (Y/N), I didn’t hook up with her. She kissed me–”

“It doesn’t matter.” Your gaze shifts to him for barely a second before it’s back on the road. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter who you’re attracted to. I just didn’t think it would effect our friendship.”

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says again, holding onto his bag. 

You’re quiet before continuing, “ I know you are. I know that. I’m sorry that you thought that you needed to justify your feelings to me.”

He swallows thickly, watching your face carefully. You didn’t do anything to make him feel like he had to justify himself. If anything, it was Spencer’s conscious that made him feel the need to explain himself. The guilt that he felt after kissing Lila was enough to get him to feel sick. The guilt that he felt after knowing how badly he hurt you was enough to make him want to grovel at your feet. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” He mumbles, wetting his bottom lip. “You had– have– every right to be upset.”

“I don’t want to be upset anymore,” You say as you continue to drive down the freeway. 

He’s quiet before he finally says, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

He swallows the lump in his throat and he presses the pads of his fingers into the corner of his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

You finally park in front of his apartment, leaning against the chair. “I know. I know, I’m sorry too. I said… a lot of things.”

“I deserved it,” he says, a small laugh leaving his lips as he finally looks at you. “You’re right, I wasn’t being fair.”

You hum, leaning over the console to give him an awkward hug. He presses his nose into your shoulder, breathing in your vanilla perfume. His arms wrap around your middle and he realises how much he missed this. How he missed being close to you. 

“I won’t do it again,” he promises. 

“I know.”

“I really am sorry.”

“You need to stop apologising.” Your words come out like a laugh and he realises how much he misses that sound too.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says into your shoulder. “Coffees for a month. I’ll even get you those croissants you like, even though they’re really overpriced.”

You laugh again and he smiles. 

“You apologising is already good enough,” You say, squeezing his arms. “Now go get some rest, Spence.”

His smile widens at the nickname and he finally pulls away. “Good night. Thank you for driving me home.”

You smile back. “Good night. Don’t mention it.”

The next morning, you find a steaming coffee on your desk and a freshly baked croissant in a brown paper bag. Spencer waves at you and you can’t help the goofy grin on your face as you take a bite into the croissant. 

next part →

full work

reblogs are always appreciated!

[nfr-girly]

Baking with Hasan // 🧁 🍰

Summary: Hasan invites you over for a baking stream

————————————————————————

-Hasan had the idea for a while to do a baking stream with one of his friends, he had already done one with QT so he wanted to do it with someone who chat wasn’t familiar with

-that’s when you came into mind, chat knew a little about you from seeing you in the background of some vlogs, but you’d never actually done a stream with Hasan before

-you and him met through Austin and have been really good friends since. Hasan was a little hesitant as he knows you’ve never actually been on stream before, so he wanted to ask you first before confirming anything

-he called you up and asked if you’d want to do a baking stream with him, which of course you said yes to

-Hasan didn’t know it but you had grown to like him as more than just a friend, on occasion you would think for a second that he might like you back, but every time you saw him with these gorgeous models you always give your hopes up

-LITTLE DID U KNOWWW… Hasan kinda likes you back <3 anyway 😋

-you guys call a few days before the stream to confirm times and everything, making sure you both have ingredients ready, you tell him you’re a little nervous about the stream and he reassures you that if you don’t want to do it, please tell him, but he makes sure you know he won’t let anyone be mean to you for even a second

-Hasan is so so serious about this too, he absolutely adores you and if he sees ANYONE be even the tiniest bit disrespectful to you trust he’ll be ready to throw hands

-a few days later you go over to his house and ring the bell, fidgeting with your hands and sorting out your hair

-Hasan hears the bell and all confidence drops. Kayas already at the door before he even comes out the kitchen. He sorts out his hair before opening the door.

-you look up and smile “hey! How are you”

-Hasan smiles back “I’m really good thanks. How are you? Was the journey okay?” Hasan lets you in and hangs up your coat for you, you kneel and pet Kaya as she hops into your lap

-one of Hasans favourite things is seeing you bond so well with Kaya, it’s partly why he likes you so much, you’re the only person who Kaya didn’t bark at when she first met you, it was like she had known you for years

-you two went into the kitchen and set up all your ingredients, talking a little about how you’ve both been

-“you know I’m actually gonna stomp all over you today; my cakes are superior” Hasan boasts

-“shut the fuck up you don’t know shit about baking”

-“yes I do!!” Hasan defends back

-the stream starts and for the next few hours the entirety of the stream consists of you and him blatantly flirting (trust there’s gonna be compilations on yt of you two)

-the whole chat can see through both of you and are so baffled at how blind you are to the other ones feelings

-eventually, you end the stream and start cleaning the kitchen, it takes you two about an hour due to the mess

-Hasan occasionally puts his hands on your waist as he moves past you

“thank you for coming over to do this, I mean really I appreciate it” Hasan tells you

“Of course no worries, it was fun we should do it again sometime”

Hasan pauses and thinks. Just ask her out already what are you doing?

“Hey listen I was just wondering- i don’t know, if maybe you wanted to go out sometime?”

You look at him as your breath catches in your throat

“Uh- yeah sure, is it just us or with some friends?” Please say just us

“Well I mean I was thinking just us. Unless you think that would be weird-“

“No- Hasan id love that” you smile at him as he nods, smiling himself

“Okay great, would Tuesday work for you?”

“I can check but it should be yeah!”

You two talk as he walks you to the door

“Okay then, well I’ll text you later about places we could go” Hasan says

“Okay then. It’s a date”

Hasan smiles quickly before you can see

He gives you a hug as you head to your car.

As soon as you drive away he smiles to himself and goes to find Kaya, who jumps up at him

“Hey pretty ladyy, she said yes didn’t she? Oh yes she did”

A ping can be heard from Hasans phone, he takes it out and reads it

You

Sooo where should we go? 💗

hasan types out a reply

Hasan

Anywhere you want princess.

————————————————————————

UGH THIS IS SO SHIT but I hope you liked it anyway 😘

🏷️ @mavericksice @thatsactuallyinzane @kaya-p @fullofgutsndopamine @inhibitionfreewriting @the-phantom-author @makeandshift @hot-insurrectionist @hasblair

[oceansblvds]

I SENT THE ASK ABT TEACHER CORYO IM BEGGING YOU TO WRITE TA/PROFESSOR SNOW 😝

OKOKOK IM GONNA WRITE SOME HEADCANONS BUT I MIGHT HONESTLY EXPAND THIS INTO A FULL FIC BC im a whore!

warning(s): nsfw, obsessive behavior, lowkey an abuse of power

coriolanus, almost out of university, was selected to teach a higher level math class on the account of dr. gaul saying he needed a little bit more experience with teaching and leadership if he was to be head gamemaker. so, he was a TA, teaching under a professor but was basically given full rein with the class, as the professor seemed to focus more on research than teaching the class. the second he was in the lecture discussion, he saw you walk in. you were a junior, just a year under him in university and god were you beautiful. almost mouth wateringly so. it made him sick in the head at how pretty you were.

and gods above, you were smart, almost as smart as he was (though he wouldn't ever admit that) and it was clear that you liked him. you always smiled when he complimented your high scores on tests and quizzes, and would read the notes that he put in the margins of your essays with a glimmer in your eyes. he needed to talk to you, needed to be closer to you, and the only way that he could think of was to give you slightly lower marks on your essays and homeworks. never on a test, he would never want to drop your grade low enough for it to be concerning, but he did wait for you to stumble into his office hours. and you did. you asked him how you could do better on the material, and he told you that he'd help you.

he didn't have an office, only a classroom that he was lent during his office hours in the top floor of the math building. it was there that you would meet him, every tuesday and thursday, to go over problems. he liked the way that your lip would be bitten in between your teeth when you were looking at a particularly hard problem, or when you would look at him with your big doe eyes when you asked him for help. and whenever you asked him for help, he would lean closer, and explain it to you.

one day, he finally got the courage to make a move. you asked him for help and he placed his hand on your thigh, as if he was using it to keep himself steady as he leaned over. but instead of watching him explain on the paper, you kept your attention on his face. and then he pushed his hand further up your thigh, under your skirt, and you didn't stop him. your hand came to his and you pushed it up until it was cupping your pussy. he fingered you right then and there, hoping beyond hoping that no one else would walk into his office hours for help. the two of you made out while he fingered you, going as far as to press three fingers into you, with a squelching sound, your moans echoing through the room softly.

that became somewhat of a normal thing. you two always met during his office hours, until you decided to go to his home one day for some extra tutoring. it ended with you in his large bed with your legs spread, while he put his fingers in your mouth as he fucked you with such fervor that you were sure you were going to break.

sometimes when he was grading papers, you would slink under his desk and pull his cock out, spitting on the tip and bobbing your head up and down until he gave you the attention you wanted. he always fantasized about you doing this when he was teaching another class, with you working him with your mouth as he sat on his desk and no one else knew the wiser. he would have to try that with you one day.

lots of words like how dirty you were for sleeping with your teacher. "you're such a needy thing, aren't you?" "show me how good you've gotten" when you were riding him. "you probably fantasize about my cock in class, don't you?" it was all so derogatory. and other times he would praise you. he would tell you how smart and beautiful you were. he would let you cum when you got a problem right while he sat under the desk, eating you out. when you got a problem wrong, he would stop, and no amount of begging would get him to continue unless you continued your work.

[undressrehearsal]

right back where we started

summary: ellie is on tour as the opener for a popular band. she begrudgingly passes through the hometown that she had sworn she would never see again and runs into the one good thing she left behind.

tags: some sad stuff, ellie has daddy issues, mentions of alcohol, modern au, not rockstar ellie but that same kinda genre???, no smut in this one sorry this is all setting the scene, this is another shorter one 3.6k words

a/n: listen. I'm gonna level with yall. life's been fucking insane. it's been what 3 months since I posted something?? and it's because 1. my fiancée and I are buying a house 2. and planning a wedding 3. I work 45 hour weeks (at a job I hate so much omg) 4. I'm writing a book and 5. I'm preparing for a p major surgery (I go on tuesday)

so yeah, life's been insane. but I missed writing fics. I'm writing my book so I never stopped writing but writing a lil fun fic just hits different yk?

anyway enjoy and look forward to a few (I'm thinking 3?) parts of this

love yall. reply and lmk if you wanna be added to my tag list. also I'm posting this on my phone so the formatting might be fucked lmk

part 1

Ellie couldn’t remember the last time she had been in this city.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She could remember exactly the last time she had been in this city. She had watched it disappear in her mirror when she had driven her bike west three years ago in search of the horizon. She had hoped she would find something more once she got there - more than the dingy dorm room she had loosely called home and the classes that had made her eyes glaze over; something more than playing at the bar’s open mic nights, her guitar hard to hear over the noisy din of drunk students and drunker professors; something more than a future that had been planned for her by the time she was in high school.

Her dad had kicked her out after she dropped out, of course, but that was fine. She had planned to leave that night anyway; she had kept a packed bag hidden underneath her bed for months. She hadn’t seen him in three years, either, and she planned to keep it that way.

But when she woke up and saw the city outside the bus window, silhouetted against the rising sun, something in her chest rose to her throat and refused to be swallowed back down.

She hadn’t missed it - but as she looked down at her shaking hands, Ellie figured her body must not have gotten that memo.

The band she was traveling with were still sleeping; she could hear the singer snoring in her bunk, could see the bassist's leg sticking out into the aisle. She had never been a morning bird - back at her shitbox apartment, you'd rarely catch her up before noon - but something about being stuck on a bus for days made her restless. It was her first time touring - after three years of playing at open mics and taking small jobs singing at the senior center - and she wasn't used to feeling her own bed constantly shifting beneath her.

Which is how she always ended up pacing the length of the bus, tapping her fingers against her thighs as the confined world around her slept, waiting desperately for the driver to pull off to whatever venue they had booked. She wasn't sure what the band did before their shows in the evenings, but she didn't stick around long enough to ask. Maybe it was rude, but she couldn't force herself to hang out with the band who only chose her because their usual opener had “flaked” on them - which was how they described it when the opener couldn't travel with them for several months after their mother had just died.

So, yeah, Ellie couldn’t find it in herself to feel bad about it when she rushed off the bus as soon as it parked, not even sticking around to let the band know where she was going. They wouldn't care either way. Hell, they were probably so hungover they wouldn't wake up until their show started in several hours.

The driver - his name was Zachary (never Zach) and he was the only one who paid her any mind - helped Ellie hoist her bike down from the rack on the back of the bus. The band had teased her about bringing it, bitching about how it showed she didn't want to hang out with them. She had been tempted to tell them they were right, but she couldn't really risk losing the first real gig she’d gotten. She lifted the seat and dug her helmet out, waving to Zachary as he disappeared back into the bus to get his own well-deserved rest.

The purr of the bike was a familiar comfort beneath her. Lowering the visor of her helmet to block out the sun, she squinted at the streets sprawled before her. She realized, with dizzying familiarity, that she was in the next neighborhood over from her old apartment. Hell, she had watched a few shows at the venue she was playing at - something in her stomach clenched.

Fuck, she needed coffee.

With the wind cold against her bare arms, Ellie let the world fly by, the city waking up around her. Her phone remained snuggly in her bag; she didn't need directions here, the familiar streets leading her down well-worn paths, winding all the way back to a life that was no longer hers.

It was muscle memory that led her back to the coffee shop she had frequented as a student. She looked up at it, a glow around its worn brick from the rising sun, and something tightened in her chest. They had replaced the patio chairs - the old ones had been practically falling apart three years ago - but otherwise it hadn't changed.

Ellie cursed under her breath, swallowing around the foreign lump in her throat, and climbed off her bike. When she took the steps two at a time, it felt like somebody else had taken the wheel. It was a familiar stranger that opened the door.

The smell hit her first. They say that scent has the strongest tie to memory, and the smell of burnt coffee beans hit her like a punch. There had always been a sweetness underneath it, something she had never been able to place but thought might be honey? When she stepped up to the counter, she could even smell the milk they were steaming.

The barista - a young girl with faded pink hair tied up into space buns - looked up from her phone and said, in a voice teetering on the edge between cheerful and bored, “How’s it going?”

Ellie took her in briefly, noting the brown corduroy overalls and the star-shaped nose ring, and was comforted knowing that this place was just as queer as she had left it. She would bet money on the fact that if she peeked over the counter, this girl would be wearing beat up Docs. She was young enough to be a student - probably an English major, if she had to guess.

She always ordered the same thing - iced mocha with oat milk. She had never understood why her dad drank his coffee black.

The barista - her tag said Dianna She/Her/Hers - eyed her as she rang Ellie up, brows quirked. When she smiled, dimples caved her cheeks. “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you a student?”

Ellie fought the urge to groan - this girl was just trying to be friendly (and was probably trying to decide if Ellie’s flannel meant she was gay or was just a bad fashion choice), but the last thing she wanted to do after failing to sleep on a bus and waking up at the ass-crack of dawn was to make small talk.

Still, she smiled and said, “I used to be.”

She paid and stuffed the remainder of her cash into the tip jar. When Dianna thanked her, her cheeks were as pink as her hair. Ellie could feel her eyes lingering on her as she walked away, nodding awkwardly in thanks.

This place really hadn’t changed in three years. The coffee shop had a reputation of students writing all along the walls - over a decade ago, they had simply stopped trying to paint over it, so the walls were littered in signatures and drawings and claims of call this number for a good time. Scattered poetry was written along the edges of the windows, an incredibly detailed Sharpie drawing of a cat peeking over the top of the doorway. When she searched for it, she found that her own scrawled handwriting was still there, small letters where nobody would think to look, right underneath the thermostat: Find me where the sun sets east. Don’t forget me.

She swallowed the lump that threatened to choke her and stepped away. Her eyes stung from sleep deprivation and nothing more.

Ellie scanned the room and found that, to her annoyance, nearly every table was taken. Students huddled around notebooks and laptops, engrossed in their work or else on Netflix to avoid studying. Professors blinked wearily, clutching their own cups of coffee as though they were lifelines holding them to this realm. Ellie could see the spot she had frequented herself - a booth tucked by the window, where she could write her songs in a dingy notebook without anyone looking over her shoulder.

Now, there was a guy with his cheek pressed to the cold surface, snoring lightly.

Ellie jumped when Dianna called her name, holding out a cup so filled with coffee that it trickled over the side and down the glass. Ellie took it gingerly, holding it in careful fingers to not spill any more on the countertop.

Dianna held onto the cup for several seconds longer than necessary, her fingers - cold from the glass - lingering on Ellie's. When a crooked smile pulled at her lips, her brown eyes sparkled. There was a teasing tilt to her voice when she said, “I hope to see you around, Ellie.”

Ellie gave her what she hoped was a friendly smile - judging by the way Dianna’s cheeks bloomed pink, she must have succeeded - before turning away. She almost felt guilty for the relief she felt when she found there was no phone number left on her glass this time. She was never sure whether it was nicer to ghost somebody or to send a gentle rejection through text, and she did not have the energy for that decision.

She turned, searching for an empty seat to slouch in and try not to fall asleep into her coffee, when her eyes found you.

You hadn’t changed a bit.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true either. You had changed - anybody would in three years. You had changed your hair, and now you dressed differently than she remembered - you used to bitch so much about how you couldn’t dress how you wanted, and now, looking at you three years later, she was happy to see that you were finally dressing like all those pictures you had saved in your little Pinterest folder of “outfit inspo.”

Ellie could see the mark of three whole years, but truthfully, you hadn’t changed. You were slouched over a laptop, leaning way too close to the screen, and you still had that pinch between your brows when you concentrated, the one that she used to run her thumb over; she could still feel how soft your skin was beneath her fingers.

She should have ignored you - she should have gone to slump in a corner of the coffee shop like she had planned, trying not to fall asleep into her cup and pretending to not notice you even as her eyes kept cutting across the cafe to find you again. She should have pushed the memories away just like she had pushed away all of the other memories associated with this city - hell, she should have never come back to this city in the first place. There were too many memories here that she had spent three years, a thousand miles, and an ocean of whiskey running away from.

And yet Ellie found her feet carrying her over to your table of their own volition. She walked the tightrope between who she is and who she once was, chasing a memory of the only good thing she left behind.

You didn’t look up at her as she approached. You kept your head bowed over your laptop, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth. There was no reason for you to look up - Ellie could have been any nameless stranger coming to bother you when you were clearly just trying to work.

But Ellie had never been good at leaving well enough alone. Which is why she hesitated for only a moment before reaching out and tapping lightly on your shoulder. She had to bite back a laugh when you jumped, pulling your headphones from your ears and swiveling around to look up at her.

She’d be lying if she said her heart didn’t do an embarrassing acrobatic jump when you met her eyes. And she had always been a terrible liar.

“Hey,” Ellie said, trying her damnedest to keep her voice steady; she only somewhat succeeded. She cleared her throat, lowering her voice when she said, “Remember me?”

Satisfaction bloomed warm in her stomach when your eyes widened, taking in the sight of her. Truthfully, she must’ve looked like shit; she had had to take a disturbingly brief shower at the last rest stop - the water apparently didn’t get any warmer than antarctic - and she hadn’t looked in a mirror for a few days. She had forgotten to pack her brush, so her hair must have been standing up at odd angles. And God knew what the lack of sleep was doing to the ever-growing shadows under her eyes.

But none of this stopped you from running your eyes down her body, cheeks pink when you finally looked up to meet her eyes again. And Ellie couldn’t stop the slow smile that spread across her face, her own cheeks growing warm. It wasn’t intentional when her voice dropped another octave, nearly a murmur when she said, mostly to herself, “Yeah, you remember me.”

“Holy shit, Ellie?” You jumped to your feet, a smile pulling at your lips as you gripped her arm. The familiar shine in your eyes did something funny to her stomach that she was way too stubborn to name. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I was just, uh- just passing through town,” she found herself saying, rubbing at the back of her neck. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but explaining to you the actual reason she finally came back to this hell-hole town suddenly seemed daunting. “Wanted to check out some old haunts, I guess.”

And then you just… looked at her, for several long moments - long enough to make Ellie squirm. Your eyes bore into hers, searching for something that she had buried three years ago.

You jumped, and whatever spell that was floating between you broke when your phone buzzed from where it still sat on the table. You scooped it up and flashed an apologetic smile to the glaring student a few seats away. Swiping at the screen, you cursed under your breath:

“Fuck, I have to get to class.” You looked back up at her again, a question behind your eyes, and Ellie had never wished so hard that she could read minds. You hesitated for only a moment before saying, words rushed, “Do you want to walk with me?” Before Ellie could respond, you continued, picking up your cup and fiddling with the straw, “It feels like forever since I’ve seen you and I want to catch up. But you’re probably busy, so you don’t have to-”

“I’d love to,” she cut you off, trying to smother the smile that pulled at her pink cheeks. She failed drastically when you smiled back at her.

After asking for a to-go cup from Dianna - thankfully no number written on the plastic cup either, despite the way the barista eyed Ellie as she left - she followed you out the door and back into the blinding morning sun. The mid-October air bit at her cheeks, creeping under her flannel; the cold coffee in her hand made her fingers sting, but you were already walking away, so she grit her teeth and followed.

And it was like you both just fell back into place, aligning with each other as though that empty space had never existed. You were working towards your graduate degree, Ellie discovered, and were working as a TA to get through; the class you were heading to was the dreaded public speaking class that you taught around your own curriculum. You laughed as you talked about some ridiculous speech a student had recently presented, and Ellie had forgotten just how much she liked the sound until it was burying behind her ribs again.

Ellie didn't tell you exactly why she had come back. When she’d left, you had known she was chasing a dream - it was the main reason she had presented when she broke up with you. The idea of long distance was too hard - too complicated - and Ellie didn’t want anything tying her to this town.

Even so, her body still wanted to fall into old habits. She told you about her roommate and how, when Ellie had been up too late writing a new song or her roommate had had a late shift at the hospital, they would play truth or dare until they were too drunk to stay awake, and her fingers brushed against yours, muscle memory making her reach for you. Ellie told you how she had visited her sister, Sarah, while passing through Houston, and she wanted so badly to lace your fingers together. She wanted to wrap her arm around your waist - hell, she even wanted to grab your ass right where everyone could see, just like she used to. She tucked her free hand in her pocket.

“You still haven’t told me why you came back,” you said, coming to a stop in front of the Communications building - it was just as tall and ominous as Ellie remembered. Her stomach lurched at the site, remembering all the speeches she had to make in her own classes. She supposed Public Speaking wasn’t a useless class now, considering she didn't stutter when she had to speak in front of an audience now.

Ellie shrugged, dropping her cup into a trashcan without looking at you. “Like I said, I’m just passing through-”

“Bullshit,” you said, but there was no malice behind it. You tilted your head to meet her eyes and smiled at her, even as your eyes held something unreadable. “The Ellie I knew couldn’t wait to get out of this shithole - her words, not mine. She wouldn’t simply pass through - she would go out of her way to stay in the next town over. So,” you crossed your arms, “what changed?”

Before, if you had ever crossed your arms at her, Ellie would reach out and gently pull your arms away from your chest, pulling you into an embrace. She wanted nothing more than to pull you into her, instinct unaware of the three years and a thousand miles that had separated you. Instead, she leaned against the wall of the building, the brick biting into her back. “Nothing’s changed. Trust me, if it was up to me, I wouldn't be here.”

For only a second, your face twisted into something unreadable that pulled at Ellie's stomach. But you quickly schooled your expression, tilting your head, your smile soft. “Listen, I have to go - if I'm too late, these fuckers are just gonna try to skip. But we should meet up later - I want to catch up.” When Ellie opened her mouth to say you had been catching up, you continued, “Really catch up. I want you to tell me everything - it's been years, so we have a lot to cover.” You looked at your phone and cursed. “Look, my last class ends at 3:25. Meet me on the green after?” For good measure, you stuck out your bottom lip and added, “Please?”

Ellie had never been good at resisting that look - she had given into you so many times from that look alone. She had to bite back the sudden, stupid smile pulling at her cheeks, so she pressed her lips together and looked away. After three years, you still made her cheeks flush without trying.

“Okay,” was all she could say.

Without warning, you rushed forward, wrapping your arms around her neck briefly. Her hands hovered at your sides, unsure of where to go. Feeling your body pressed against her again - feeling the warm brush of your breath against her neck - short-circuited her brain, leaving her gasping on dry land.

Before she could figure out where to put her fucking hands, you murmured in her ear, “I really did miss you, Els,” and pulled away, just as quickly as you had come. Ellie's mouth hadn't even caught up to her brain by the time you were gone, the door closing softly behind you.

Later, after she had had a proper breakfast from McDonald's, she was still thinking about you. Seeing you again had opened up a bottle that she had sealed away, and the cork wouldn't fit back into it. Her fingers itched with the memory of your skin beneath them. When you had hugged her, she had smelled the shampoo that you apparently still used, and she remembered how it had felt to have your head on her chest, breathing you in as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. And your lips next to her ear - that opened a whole subcategory of memories that she tried desperately to push away.

She was only here for the night. She lost count of how many times she had to remind herself.

Ellie was stopped at a red light, leaning her bike from one foot to the other, when she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She glanced at the blinking crosswalk sign - twenty seconds, so she still had plenty of time before the light turned green - before fishing her phone out. She had to squint against the sun, straining to make out the screen. She nearly dropped the phone when she saw the familiar name popping up on her screen, fumbling to open the text.

There was a screenshot of an Instagram post from the venue she was going to play at. The band's name was in bold letters, stars pasted around a grainy picture of the group. And in small letters underneath - like an afterthought - was her name: Ellie Miller.

And underneath, in all caps:

YOU'RE PLAYING AT THE HAWTHORNE?????

Her face flushed all over again. After all these years, you had still kept her number.

tag list: @macaroni676 @ellstronaut @elliewilliamsmiller0 @elliescoolerwife @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @liliflowers-blog @filtered-sunlight

[gretavangroupie]

Burn (Chapter 2)

Word count: 7.5k+

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ as always, language, drinking, smut, fluff.

Burn Playlist

SAM POV

I’m gonna do it.

You’re unsure how you’ve even made it this long. Monday and Tuesday you convinced yourself it was too soon. Wednesday you were so wiped from work that you missed your window of opportunity, silently kicking yourself. But now, Thursday has come along and you’re all out of excuses. 

You have pulled that little business card from your wallet more times than you care to admit, just running your fingers over the shiny embossed letters of her name. The corners of the card rolled and tattered as if it’s been there for months. Each time quickly shoving it back into the tiny leather slot after you’d talked yourself out of it. But this time you don’t. This time you type the ten numbers into the text box and watch it turn blue. 

You: Drinks tomorrow?

You hit send and feel your heart start to race. 

It’s casual. No feelings. You’re not doing anything wrong.

When you see the banner flash across the top of the screen a few minutes later, you click on it, and swallow nervously at the reply.

Her: Sam, it’s Thursday night. What if I already have plans?

You: You cancel them.

Her: I said I could be convinced, not that I was. 

Shit.

You: We both know that you want to.

Her: And Morgan….

You: Not a concern.

Her: I don’t know Sam…

You: It’s just drinks. One drink.

You see the text bubble pop up as she types her response, but then it disappears. After a few minutes with no reply, you take that as your answer.

Sliding your phone into the front pocket of your shirt you slide the rolling chair away from the mixing board and stretch your arms over your head before standing up. You run your hands through your hair, pushing it away from your face as you make eye contact with Josh through the window. You give him the hand signal that you’re heading out with a thumb over the shoulder. He lifts his hand at you as a goodbye and you grab your keys and dip out of the side door of the studio. 

Your phone rings through the bluetooth of the car and you can’t help but let your mind jump to the idea that it could be her. Your eyes flick to the display and you see a name, but it’s not hers.

Morgan.

“Hello?” you answer.

“Hi babe! How was it today?” she asks.

You sigh, “It was fine, just a little fine tuning. What are you up to?” you ask.

“Oh nothing, just calling to see if you want me to come over tonight. Or we can do tomorrow?” she asks.

“No, not tomorrow, I have a work thing tomorrow.” you lie.

Strike one.

“Okay, so tonight?” she asks.

“Uh, yeah if you want to you can.” you reply.

“What’s wrong? You sound off?” she says.

“Nothing. Nothing, I am fine, was just a long day. You can come over, sorry I am being short with you.” you say. 

“Okay, well I will be there in a bit. See you soon.” she says.

“Ok lovely.” you say hanging up the call. You pull your phone from your pocket clicking on your texts. 

Still nothing.

Frustrated, you speed the rest of the way home, just needing a few minutes of peace before the rest of the night begins. 

When Morgan arrives an hour later you seem to forget about not getting a reply. Afterall, Morgan is your girlfriend. Not her. You eat dinner together and spend the evening watching a movie before you feel her hands wandering closer to your bare stomach under the blankets.

Your cock twitches as her fingers slide down your stomach meeting the button of your pants.  You can't help but let your mind wander back just a few nights ago when a new, but familiar touch grazed the same area of your exposed midsection, igniting a feeling much different. 

A feeling you’ve never quite gotten to with Morgan. A feeling years in the making, stifled down by your own stupidity.

Snapping you back to reality, your phone buzzes in your pocket and your stomach drops.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” you say, standing up, making your way to the hall bathroom. The click clack of Rosie’s nails on the hardwood floor following behind you.

Once inside you pull your phone from your pocket and sure enough, those ten numbers light up the screen.

Her: Time and place?

Fuck yes.

You: Blue Door, 8:00?

Her: I’ll see you there.

Smiling to yourself you shove the phone back into your pocket, and return back to the living room.

“Hey, babe. I think I am ready to go to bed. I had a long day.” you say, hoping she won't put up a fight tonight. 

“Okay….” she replies, obviously annoyed.

Things with Morgan have been rocky but constant. In the beginning it was fiery and passionate and everything you’d want in a relationship. You had just moved to Nashville and met her out one night, and things really went from there.  But, as time has progressed, things have become more loose and tense, not exactly in the good way. You are gone a lot, traveling and she sometimes has a problem with that. She has needs that you are physically unable to satisfy sometimes, and her for you when you are gone for months at a time. When you both agreed to an open relationship it didn’t come without its rules. So far neither of you had broken them, but that was before. Before LA, before the plane, before the bar, before your thoughts had been consumed by a girl you knew so long ago. Now you aren't so sure that these rules will be as easy to follow. And mostly you’re not sure if you want to follow them.

Crawling into bed, you cuddle up behind Morgan, closing your eyes and anxiously thinking about the possibility of what tomorrow may hold, all while holding someone else.

It’s truly been one of the longest Fridays of your life. It seemed like nothing was going right at the studio, everything had to be redone multiple times, everyone was in a pissy mood, and somehow it was only 3pm. You wonder if it's partly due to the fact that you have been mentally absent all day, daydreaming about your evening plans. Trying to shake her from your head you refocus and get through the rest of the session. 

Come 7:00 you are getting into the shower and thinking about what you are going to wear. You’ve never been someone who cares what a woman thinks of your outfit, but for some reason, tonight, you do. You run your comb through your hair, letting it dry in waves around your face. You opt for black jeans, and a floral button down, that has recently been your favorite. A quick spray of cologne and you are ready to go.

“Bye Rosie, I will be back soon, okay?” you say, patting the top of her head, lounging on the edge of the couch. You grab your keys from the hook and you’re out the door.

You are set to arrive exactly at 8:00. You hate to be late, but what is the use in being early either? As you pull into the parking lot you slide your phone from your pocket, swiping up and placing it on do not disturb. You place it back in your pocket and you take a deep breath as you turn off the car and walk inside. 

Why am I so nervous?

HER POV

Go, go, go, go…

Of course you get off work late today, of all the Fridays you get off at 3, today is the one you get off at 5. After spending well over an hour debating an outfit you finally decided. You're not even sure why you care, he is just a friend. A really really good looking friend, but a friend nonetheless. Plus he has a girlfriend, or something like that….maybe you’ll get to the bottom of that tonight. 

Your tires are basically screeching into the parking lot as your eyes flick to the clock. 

8:10. Shit. Whatever. It’s just drinks… you’re… fashionably late…

Stepping out of your car, your boots crunch against the gravel parking lot of Blue Door. This little bar is one of the east side's best kept secrets. You’re actually shocked you’ve never seen any of the guys here before. 

You pull the door open, and it's busy, but not crowded. Music is playing loudly through the small bar, and you scan the room, looking for Sam. You walk a little further inside, looking around but still nothing. 

Maybe he’s not here yet.

You step up to the bar and order a vodka soda, feeling slightly nervous about how the night will playout. You promised yourself, one drink.

The bartender passes you your drink and you squeeze the lime into it, stirring it around with the straw. You step away from the bar and walk to the back of the bar to see if maybe he is back there somewhere, and much to your surprise you spot him at a small table in the corner.

He is sitting casually with his legs crossed, sipping his drink. His eyes flick up and catch yours, a soft smirk crossing his lips.

As you approach him, he pushes the chair across from him, out with his foot. 

“Well, look who decided to show up…” he says smugly.

“Oh please I am ten minutes late…Today of all days I didn't get off at 3. Then you know, Nashville traffic is a bitch….anyways, I finally made it…” you reply, sipping your drink nervously.

“No problem, did you have fun with Lauren in town last week?” he asks.

“Yeah I did, it was really nice to see her. Its been a while. It seems her and Daniel made up after all these years.” you laugh.

“Oh yeah, he hasn't shut up all week.” he laughs.

Warmth creeps through your chest hearing his laugh. It’s been years since you heard that laugh that is unmistakably his. 

You think back to highschool, right before prom all of you were in the car together. Sam and Danny were in the front, you and Lauren were in the back. Belting out every word to TikTok by Ke$ha. You were all laughing and you think that might be the first time you really felt like you had feelings for him. That was of course before he left you at the Prom and stomped on your heart. You know Sam would never admit to knowing the words to that song now. He is much to cool for that. You wonder if he still knows them.

You are snapped back to the present, when you hear him repeating your name.

“Hello… are you still there?” he says, snapping his fingers around your face.

“Oh yeah, sorry…” you say laughing.

“Jeeze, one drink and you’re already getting spacy on me…” he jokes.

“Just lost in thought for a second, it was a long day.” you reply.

“What were you thinking about?” he asks.

Hmmm. Do you lie or tell the truth and risk embarrassing yourself….

You take the last gulp of your drink, and smirk down at him.

“Do you remember when we all sang that Ke$ha song in the car? I think you sang it the loudest….” you say.

You see his eyes light up a little, “Off the record… yeah I remember. Daniel knows that we never speak of that moment.” he laughs. “Is that what you were thinking about?”

“Yeah, I don't know why, your laugh just reminded me of it for some reason.” you say sheepishly.

He sips the last of his drink, “Mhmm back when you had a crush on me…” he says smirking smugly.

“Mhmm back when you had a crush on me, back…” you quip. “Are we getting another drink or not?” 

“I only bartered for one, but if you are feeling two, who am I to object?” he says standing up.

You shake your head and stand, walking back to the front bar, with him following behind you.

Suddenly he is walking next to you, his hand placed on the small of your back. A place he seems to have a certain affinity for, so you let him.

As you step up to the bar to order, he turns to you, “want to do a shot?” he asks.

“What kind?” you reply, knowing it won't make a difference. His big brown eyes and honey laced voice could say poison and you’d do it anyway. He has always had that effect on you. Even after all these years, but you couldn't let him know that.

“Tequila or Whiskey, your choice.” he smiles.

“Tequila.” you answer.

“My kinda girl…”  he says.

“You wish…” you reply.

“Sometimes.” he says, handing you the tiny plastic cup.

Sometimes?

You grab your other drink and your shot, and make your way back to the table in the back.

As you both sit, he nods his head silently asking if you’re ready and you nod. You both throw them back and you see his face wince, which is kind of endearing.

“You know Sam, for someone who loves to have their photo taken on stage with your pretty little drinks, you should at least be able to handle a shot of tequila…” you say.

“And just how would you know that? Do you keep tabs on me?” he asks, smugly.

“I searched your little band up once…” you say snarkily, knowing that the ‘little band’ comment will get under his skin and you are right.

“Little band? If your research proved successful you would know we are not just a little band anymore….” he says, almost arrogantly.

“Oh Sam, I’m just fucking with you…” you say patting the top of his hand.

“Not yet you’re not…maybe later…” he says sipping his drink with a sly grin.

“Samuel!” you scoff.

“What?” he asks coyly, taking a gulp of his drink. 

You can tell the shot is starting to set in for the both of you, his eyes have grown darker and more hooded, his skin a little flushed. You are feeling it too, but the feeling you’re feeling is desire and it's greatest between your legs. 

This new more mysterious version of Sam is hot and you are dying to know more.

“So tell me about Jimmy.” he asks, leaning forward on the table.

What?

“Oh, getting right to it, ok. How about you tell me about Morgan first.” you quip back.

“What’s there to tell, I think you know pretty well what there is to know.” he replies.

“Then I could say the same about Jimmy.” you snap back, cutting your eyes at him.

“Ok, fine. Morgan and I have been together off and on for a few years.” he says.

“Uh huh, and where does she think you are at… 9pm on a Friday night?” you ask suspiciously.

“She knows I am busy,” he replies.

“Why did you want to get drinks Sam?” you ask.

The vodka and shot has definitely entered your bloodstream.

He smirks at you, “You know, to catch up with an old friend…”

“Is that not what we did last weekend?” you ask.

“Not quite, I…couldn’t exactly catch up how I wanted to…” he replies.

“And how do you want to catch up….” you ask.

“Like this… just us… no…interruptions.” he says, running his long, calloused index finger down the side of your hand.

You swallow harshly at the electricity of his touch, as his eyes flick to yours, somehow even darker than a few minutes ago.

“Do you feel that too?” he asks.

“Feel what?” you reply.

“Don’t play dumb with me, we both know you are an intelligent woman.” he replies sternly.

Don’t do it. Do not answer him. Change the subject. You won’t be the other woman.

“Fine.” you reply.

Stupid tequila shot.

“Fine what?” he asks, tracing the outline of your hand on the table.

“Fine, you can buy me one more drink, and then I am going home.” you reply, snatching your hand away from the table. 

“We’ll see.” He says, standing up and sauntering off to the bar.

You pull out your phone, and scroll through your texts. Lauren of course is chomping at the bit to know what is happening, so you quickly shoot her a text letting her know you were just catching up, and nothing is happening.

Then you move on and see a text from Jimmy. You roll your eyes…

This man is annoyingly persistent.

Jimmy: You out tonight?

Sam comes walking up behind you and around the table setting your drink down on the little black napkin.

“So, are you fucking him?” he asks.

Taken aback by the question you shift in your seat. 

“Well come right out with it…No.” you reply truthfully.

“Do you want to fuck him?” he asks.

“No.” you answer.

“Why?” he asks.

“I already did. He was a lousy lay and he obviously doesn't feel the same, and I can't say I blame him. What is with the twenty questions Sam?” you ask.

“Why do you keep calling me Sam? Why don't you call me Sammy?” he asks intensely.

“Sam is your name isn’t it?” you ask, sipping your drink.

“You never called me Sam. You always called me Sammy.” he barks back.

“Things change Sam.” you reply.

“Not that.” he says.

You shrug your shoulders, and the warmth of the alcohol has finally enveloped you completely. 

“You always get your way…don’t you?” you say, your words slurring together.

Any filter you had left has clearly gone out the window.

“Only with things I really want.” he says, running his tongue over his bottom lip.

“And what do you really want, Sam?” you ask.

“You know exactly what I want, and you want it too.” he says, his knee rubbing against yours under the small table.

“Oh yeah? You want another drink?” you ask playfully.

“I thought you said you were leaving after that one?” he asks smugly.

“Maybe soon…” you reply, tossing back the rest of your drink, setting the empty cup on the table, and staring directly into his eyes.

“You can’t drive…” he states.

“I’m not planning on it.” you reply, tilting your head to the side.

“Come with me.” he says, standing up, pulling your arm up with him, before sliding his hand down to yours.

You follow behind him to the hallway near the bathrooms and he stops you, spinning you to press you against the brick wall. 

“Tell me. Tell me right now, that you don’t feel it and I will walk out of here and we never have to speak again.” he says, his hands boxing you in, his face inches from yours. “Or, tell me you do, and we can leave right now and finish what we started years ago.”

“We can’t Sam, what about Morgan…” you reply.

“Stop worrying about her. It’s a non issue. Yes or no.” he says.

Do the right thing. Do the right thing…

“It will be our secret?” you ask, almost whispering against his lips.

“If that’s what you want.” he answers.

“Okay. Yes.” you say.

He closes the gap between you crushing his lips to yours, moving his hands to your face, cold from resting on the brick wall. The coldness offering relief to your alcohol warmed skin. 

His lips move against yours soft and plush. He tastes like tequila and lime and everything you imagined he would since you were 17 years old in the back of his parents Grand Cherokee. You melt into him so effortlessly, your will to fight the feelings you’ve been pretending aren’t there,  completely slipping away as the kiss intensifies.

He pulls away, “Let’s go.” he says, sliding his hand around your waist and ushering you out the front door.

“Don't you need to close out?” you ask.

“I closed out with the last round. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you much longer.” he says, opening his car door and letting you slide in. 

He slips around the back and opens the driver side door, climbing in, and throwing the car into reverse pulling out of the parking lot.

His hand sneaks across the arm rest and rests on the top of your thigh, the heat from his hand warm on your skin. 

You look over to him, his long hair in perfect waves down his back, his shirt unbuttoned slightly more than it should be, giving you a glimpse as to what's underneath.

You feel your arousal pooling between your legs as his hand slowly travels up higher on your thigh, inch by inch. 

It’s a short drive from the bar to his house. As you pull into the driveway, you are met with a white brick house, with beautiful uplighting and a well manicured yard. The lights are on inside the house, the windows glowing yellow from where you sit. 

Sam gets out, and comes around to open the door for you, taking your hand in his. He leads you to a side door that looks like it opens into his kitchen. His house is beautiful. Its an older home that has been renovated to a very modern and eclectic style. Somehow it’s just… effortlessly Sam. As you step inside the door you hear a dog start to bark. 

Oh gosh, you forgot about his dog!

Seconds later, Rosie comes bounding to the door, all wiggles and tail wags.

“Hi baby, hi, yeah I missed you too, yeah we have a visitor! You remember her?” he says in a playful baby voice while patting and rubbing her head and ears.

You squat down to say hello and are instantly attacked with wet licks and nose prints on your face. Your laughing only seems to spur her on more. 

“I think it’s safe to say she remembers.” he says, grabbing your hand and pulling you to stand up. He backs you up against his kitchen island by your hips and slides his hands up your body until they are resting on your neck. 

“I would be lying if I said I haven’t thought about this exact moment far more often than I should have for the past two weeks.” he says pressing his lips to yours softly, and almost too passionately for the short amount of time that has passed since your kiss in the bar only thirty minutes ago.The searing shock of electricity passed through every nerve in your body at the connection of his lips to yours. 

You pull your lips away from him, “Then quit talking, and kiss me.” you say before sliding your hands into his long thick hair, pressing your lips back to his. A groan leaves his mouth as you scratch your fingernails lightly against his scalp.

You can feel his hardened length pressing into your stomach as he continues to kiss you. 

And you press yourself into it, eliciting a hiss from his mouth. 

He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you away from the counter, walking you backwards through the kitchen, before pulling his lips from yours, spinning your body in his hands and pushing you down the hallway to his bedroom. 

His bedroom is exactly how you expected it to be, it's warmly lit with fluffy linens on the bed in neutral colors and plants lining the window sill. A plush oriental rug sits underneath the edge of the bed, and a vintage mid century modern bedroom set fills the space.

As you step deeper into the room, you turn to sit on the edge of the bed. Sam shuts the door behind him, before sliding his shirt over his head revealing the rest of his torso. He kicks his shoes off and you do the same. 

He walks over to you and crawls over top of you, forcing you down onto the bed. He hovers over you staring at you, before his hand sweeps the hair away from your neck. Leaning down he places a soft open mouthed kiss right over the pulse in your neck. 

“Your heart is beating fast.” he  whispers against your skin, running the tip of his nose across your jaw line. 

You wrap your hand around his wrist and feel his own pulse raging against your fingers.

“So is yours…” you reply.

He trails kisses down your neck, his tongue darting out over your clavicle and you squirm beneath him at the sensation. He comes up to his knees and his hands find the buttons on the front of your blouse. He painstakingly slowly unbuttons each button making sure to take his time, teasing you. 

“Hurry up, Sam.” you beg.

“Oh no, I am going to take my time. Savor every second of this…” he replies.

When he finally reaches the last button, he opens the fabric revealing your plum colored lace bra that barely hides your nipples. A groan leaves his mouth as his fingers slide down the straps on each side, hooking his fingers into them and pulling them down your shoulders. 

He runs his index finger straight down from your throat, crossing your sternum before descending to your stomach passing over your belly button and stopping when he reaches the top of your skirt. A shudder runs through your body as it tells you it needs more.

“Impatient?” he asks.

“Take it off Sam.” you instruct.

“I will, I’m just enjoying watching you underneath me.” he says, leaning over, placing a wet kiss on the swell of your breast.

Your back arches into his mouth as his left hand slides under the fabric of your skirt, his fingers skimming the hem of your panties. His fingers slide under the band of silky fabric and pull downward, and his right hand scoops your tit from the cup of the bra, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

You throw your head back at the feeling and a small whimper leaves your throat. 

“That feel good, baby? Want me to keep going? I haven’t even touched you yet and you are so close to falling apart. We haven’t even gotten to the good part.” he says, licking a warm stripe up your stomach.

“Yes, please, I need more.” you respond.

“I know, I’m gonna give you more. Gonna give you anything you want, just have to be a good girl for me? Can you do that?” he asks. 

Another rush of warmth takes over your center. You know you would do anything this man asked you to and you nod your head yes.

He slides your panties the rest of the way off your legs, before both hands are pulling your skirt down to meet your thong on the rug. You quickly lean up taking your shirt off the rest of the way and unclasping your bra to throw it on the floor. 

His eyes flick to your chest and up to your eyes before they slowly travel down the rest of your body taking in your completely naked form.

“You are fuckin gorgeous.” he says running his hands down your thighs.

He slips himself off the bed and goes to unbuckle his belt. You shoot up, and grab his belt buckle pulling his pelvis closer to you. You stare up at him and begin to undo the belt yourself, never breaking eye contact. You unbutton the button and slide the zipper down on his jeans, placing your hand over his growing bulge before tracing lines up and down with your finger over his length. 

His dick twitches beneath your fingers and you flick your eyes down before pulling at the top of his jeans, dragging his boxers down his legs. He kicks them off to the corner and runs his hand through your hair. 

You wrap your hand around his well endowed length and look back up at him, hearing a small hiss from his mouth as you tighten your grip. You pull him closer to your mouth, parting your lips and letting his dick slide over your flattened tongue, guiding him to the back of your mouth. You wrap your lips around him and the groan that leaves his chest echoes through the room. 

“Oh fuck….your mouth…” he says groaning, trying not to buck his hips into you.

You slide back and forth, working his base with your hand, letting your tongue swirl against his tip. He moans again, as his tip grazes the back of your throat. 

He is obviously very vocal and his audible display of pleasure is lighting you on fire.

He pulls you off of him, and stands you up, grabbing your face and crashing his lips to yours. His tongue finds yours and you both struggle for power over the other. He pushes you back down to the bed, and drags your body up further, slotting his knee between your legs. He bends down and presses a wet kiss to your stomach before returning his mouth to yours. 

“Sam, please…” you beg.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” he says into your mouth.

“Fuck me, Sam…” you breathe.

He aligns himself with your opening and presses into you, groaning as he reaches the hilt.

“Holy fuck, you’re so tight. Oh my god.” he pants, his hair hanging in your face.

“God you’re so hot…” you whine.

He pulls out slightly before pounding back into you, groaning with each thrust. 

“Shit, you’re fuckin wet… feel so good…” he says pushing your knee up to your chest, changing the angle and pressing into you deeper.

“You’re so good, such a pretty boy…always have been… so pretty Sam…” you whine.

“Call me Sammy…” he begs.

“No” you pant.

He begins to roll his hips into you, hitting your g spot deliciously, eliciting a scream from your lips.

“Call me Sammy… please… it’s all I want, want to hear you call me Sammy again please baby…” he says, hitting that spot again with another moan of pleasure escaping you. 

“God you’re so fucking beautiful, please baby I am begging.” he says continuing his assault on your g spot. His hair swinging in waves around his face, sweat beading at his temples.

“No, just be a good boy and make me cum Sam…” you cry out.

His eyes grow dark and he stops his movement all together. He aggressively gathers his hair into a bun at the back of his neck, a few strands hanging free around his face.

“Fine, if you want to play that way, I will make you say it.” He says, the tinge of dominance in his voice has you desperately pulling his mouth back to yours, but he stops you. 

He pulls out of you and you groan at the loss. He grabs your hips and flips you over to your front, before scooping you up to rest on your hands and knees, giving your ass a swift slap. The sting, making you groan with anticipation.

He grabs the hair at the back of your head and collects it into a ponytail around his fist, twisting your head to the side.

“I was more than willing to play nice and give you what you wanted. You told me you would be a good girl. Good girls get what they want. But bad girls….bad girls get what I give them.” he says, and with that he is thrusting back into you from behind, maxing out the boundaries within you immediately, causing a groan to leave his chest. 

“Fuck, Sam!” you scream.

He pounds into you from behind, his skin slapping loudly against yours as you near your orgasm. Each thrust pulling a groan of exertion from his chest. His hands grip into your hips viciously pulling you back to meet him.

“Sam, please…I’m so close.” You beg.

“Say it. Say it doll and you can cum.” He manages through panting breaths.

He pounds into that sensitive spot over and over, and you feel yourself fighting for your release. His hand reaches around you, two fingers swirling over your clit, causing you to arch your back into him. 

“Fuck, I’m close. Say it baby. Say it and cum with me. Say it right now.” He demands.

Unable to fight it off any longer, your body lets go and gives in to his demand.

“Sammy…Sammy, fuck….” You cry out, feeling the most intense orgasm you’ve had in years run its course through your body, rendering you practically speechless.

“Finally….” He grunts, as you feel his release pour into you with the jagged thrust of his hips. The warm release painting your insides.

“That’s all I wanted, baby. That’s all…” He says, panting into your back. His hand smoothes down your hair and runs down the length of your body as he pulls out of you and walks to the bathroom.

You roll over onto your side, and face him as he stands at his sink. “Why?” You ask, voice still shaky.

“Why, what?” He asks, stepping out of the bathroom, with a towel for you.

“Why do you want me to call you Sammy so badly?” You ask.

“Why do you not want to call me Sammy?” He quips back.

“You first.” You reply.

His demeanor softens, and he gently wipes the insides of your legs with the warm towel as he answers.

“Because… It reminds me of when you liked me when I was… nothing. When we were two kids, just… hanging in my parents garage having fun together. When none of this…” he says motioning around the room “…existed… and you only saw me for who I was, not what I would be, or what I would do. It’s grounding….and it is more meaningful coming from you…more than anyone else. Especially like this. I was so stupid back then… ” He says, shyly, running the wet towel gently over your center. His eyes nervously look up to you, almost scared that maybe he revealed too much of himself.

You slide your hand over his arm lacing your fingers with his. 

“I didn’t want to call you Sammy because... I was afraid that all the feelings that I had for you then would come rushing back. I called you Sammy then. You were always Sammy, never Sam. You never let anyone call you Sammy, just me. You were my Sammy. I felt like maybe it meant that you liked me too… but then… well, anyways.... I just feel like calling you Sammy now is…it means too much to me.” you stammer.

His hand grips yours tighter. “I still don’t let anyone call me Sammy. Only the guys, and they know I hate it, they know it reminds me of you. You’re the only one.” He says, his eyes searching yours. 

You lean over, closing the gap between the two of you, his hands reaching up to cup your chin as you place a delicate kiss on his swollen pink lips. He kisses you back groaning softly into your mouth.

Fuck. 

Every single feeling you ever had for him, then and now have come speeding at you like a bullet train, crashing directly into your chest. You pull away from him and stand, making your way to the bathroom.

SAM POV

Watching her walk into your bathroom, you collapse into your bed. Your head reeling from the events of the evening. You stand up and pull your boxers on, opening the bedroom door and walking down the hallway. Rose is waiting by the side door, so you open it to let her out.   

You grab a glass from the cabinet and fill it with water, as your mind wanders. 

Fuck. She is so gorgeous. I can’t believe she still wants me.

You told yourself you weren’t going to let this happen. You told yourself you could do this. No feelings involved… please. You feel more for her now than you ever have. 

Fuck was I wrong.

Rose barks at the door, so you let her in and lock the door before turning off the lights and heading back to the bedroom. You let Rose walk in first telling her to get in her bed, and you set the glass on the nightstand. You grab a shirt for her, placing it on the dresser, it's one of your favorites and you can't wait to see her in it. You shake out the sheets, and crawl underneath them, waiting impatiently for her to cuddle up next to you, so you can wrap your arms around her. 

The bathroom door opens and her skin is still flushed pink. She looks for her underwear on the floor, sliding them back on.

“I put a shirt on the dresser for you if you want it.” You say gesturing to it.

“Did you pick this one out specifically?” She asks, sliding it over her head with a smirk.

Beautiful.

“Might have.” You reply smugly.

“How old is this thing?” She laughs.

“Probably like… ten years old?” You guess. 

“I remember the day you guys drew up this logo in Daniel’s parents basement.” She says.

She remembers…

“Can't believe you still have this…” she says, turning back the blankets and sliding into the bed. She turns off the lamp and fluffs up the pillow behind her. 

“That is priceless memorabilia!” You joke, opening your arms to her. 

She slides over towards you, resting her head on your shoulder throwing her leg over yours and you are positive she can hear how hard your heart is beating for her. You just hope she can’t also hear your thoughts or she would surely know the extent of your feelings.

Suddenly, nothing in this world could hold a candle to how you feel about the girl in your arms. 

“I know, I know, big famous rock stars and all of that…but not to me…” she murmurs into your chest.

“Oh, no?” You ask, curiously.

You wrap your arm around her, turning in to face her, pulling her in closer to your chest exhaling against her head, rubbing circles into her back. 

“No. Just my Sammy.” She replies, leaning into the sleep threatening to take her. 

Her Sammy… and you know that you always have been.

You could listen to her call you that every day for forever. You kiss her head and find yourself drifting off to sleep imagining just that. 

HER POV

“Babyyy!!!!” the loud shrill voice echoes through the house.

Rose barks loudly at the voice, waking you up fully from your sleep.

“Rose!” You hear Sam scold her.

“Sammmmmm! Are you up?!” The voice calls, from down the hallway.

You force your eyes open, the headache making its presence known in your skull.

“What’s going on?” you ask Sam, who is now sitting up next to you looking confused. 

Shit… It’s Morgan.

Before you can even get out of the bed, the bedroom door is opening and Morgan is stepping in.

“Hey baby I brou—” she stops, staring at you, then flicking her eyes to Sam.

“Really, Sam?” She asks, stepping further into the room.

You are so taken aback you aren’t even sure what to do or say first. 

I guess I did know this could be a possibility after all..

You all stare at each other for a minute before she sets the coffee on the dresser, “Are you going to tell her or am I?” She asks.

Tell me what? Why isn’t she furious?

You look over to Sam, who is sighing heavily as he stands up, pushing past her, into the bathroom.

“You should probably get dressed and call an Uber.” She says with a snide attitude before turning back down the hallway.

What in the fuck is going on?

When the door shuts, Sam emerges from the bathroom, quickly rifling through his closet looking for something before ripping it off the hanger and tossing it to you, along with a pair of sweatpants. 

“Here, put this on. You’ll probably have to roll the pants a few times.” He says, pulling a t-shirt over his own head and tossing you a sheepish look. 

You look down at the clothing he has given you and you smirk to yourself and shake your head. 

The pink sweater…really Sammy…

You give him a look that he knows all too well, before he slips out the bedroom door. 

Of all the things he could have chosen, it had to be this… he doesn’t even realize, does he?

You stand, pulling on the sweater and the sweat pants, hyping yourself up to do the walk of shame right in front of his girlfriend.

What have you done?

You gather your clothes and head out of the room, taking one last look remembering the confessions of the night. 

"I still don’t let anyone call me Sammy…”

“You’re the only one…”

You shake the thoughts from your head and make your way into the living room, now brightly lit by the morning sun. You can see more of Sam’s style here. The room is scattered with various plants, the centerpiece of the room being his white upright piano. 

I wonder if he still remembers the song he played for me all those years ago when he was just learning…

No. Focus. Why is she not yelling and screaming? She’s just sitting in the kitchen staring.

You see them standing in the kitchen, and approach them nervously.

“Tell her Sam…” She says, in a bratty tone, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Morgan, stop.” He says, clearly annoyed, shaking his head.

“Well, since he clearly isn’t going to —” she starts before he stops her.

“Can you just stop, my god!  Let me talk to her alone for five minutes. Okay?” He asks, as she storms off into his bedroom.

“Come sit with me for a minute.” He says, pulling out a bar stool.

“What is going on Sam?” You say, horribly confused. “Tell me what?”

He runs his hands through his hair and sighs. The look on his face tells you that he doesn’t want to tell you whatever it is. He grabs your hands, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. He is nervous. 

“Morgan and I… we are in an open relationship. That is why I kept telling you not to worry about her. We have one rule that we both agreed on when we decided this. We can sleep with other people, but it can only be a one night stand. There can’t be any feelings involved. It can't happen ever again after that night. We can't speak to the person again. But I don’t—”

You snatch your hands from his cutting off his sentence. “I see. So you knew the whole time that this was only going to be a one time thing. So, all of that…” you say pointing to his bedroom, “… all the things you told me last night… you’re saying there were no feelings involved in that, right? You did all of that, and said all of those things, just to fuck me?” You say with a shaky voice, tears welling in your eyes. 

“Begging me to call you Sammy again… was that just to fulfill some sick little fantasy after all these years? That meant something to me Sam, all of it did! You let me tell you all of those things, knowing all along that you were planning to never speak to me again?” You stand scraping the stool across the floor, looking at him, clearly hurt.

“No, please… please, let me explain…I….” he says reaching for your arm. His eyes pleading with you to let him explain, but you can't. You know how this ends. The girl in the bedroom knows too. 

This meant nothing to him.

“No, anything you need to say should have been said last night. Before you brought me here. I will make sure you get these clothes back. I have to go, my Uber is here.” You say, walking through the side door and out into the harsh, judgmental sun light. Your heart is constricting in your chest over that fact that yet again, Sam has picked someone else over you.

.

.

.

.

tiny tiny taglist: @gretavansara @jordierama

[comic-book-jawns]

Ava kisses her for the first time on a Tuesday morning, their 12th day in Switzerland.

“C’mon, Bea. You’re gonna give yourself a hernia.”

Beatrice, naturally, had opened her mouth to explain why Ava’s assertion was not remotely plausible… but then her diaphragm hadn’t given her the chance to, just as Ava intended.

“Pardon me.”

Beatrice wasn’t sure if her blush was the more the result of her loss of dignity or Ava’s smirk.

“Nope.” Definitely the smirk. Dammit. “You’re allowed to have the hiccups!”

The laughter was clear (and enticing) in Ava’s voice, but Beatrice refused to let herself be goaded into conversation a second time. Perhaps, she could admit to herself, though, that Ava had a point.

“I literally peed my pants yesterday, and you don’t see me apologizing for it.”

They’d been halfway to Bar LaVasseur for their first night shift, Ava babbling away about the wild time Beatrice prayed was not in store for them until she stopped abruptly and confessed she’d forgotten to use the restroom.

Beatrice had asked if she could wait to go at the bar; and Ava, looking only moderately sheepish, had replied that waiting wasn’t the issue. So, in fact, it was Beatrice who’d ended up apologizing, following her prolonged period of silent confusion.

When they’d set off again from their flat twenty minutes later, Ava indeed had not apologized. She’d thanked Beatrice for accompanying her.

“Fine.” Beatrice at least managed not to hiccup mid-word, but Ava still giggled. “Slap me.”

Until her giggles turned into a cough.

“Excuse me?”

“No.”

It was Beatrice’s turn to smirk, and Ava stopped in her tracks, face flushed — which wasn’t surprising given the burn she’d acquired last week in pursuit of a “base tan.”

“Bea, I’m not gonna slap you.” Even less surprising was her roommate grinning well before she got to the punchline. “That’s way too boring.”

Ava, naturally, had spent the rest of their walk back to the flat trying out increasingly absurd scare tactics: jumping in front of her, phasing in front of her, phasing in front of her and screaming, declaring that she’d left the stove on.

Admittedly, that one could possibly have worked last week… before Ava decided to make “experimental tea” and Beatrice returned from the library to a kettle of boiling orange juice, alongside Ava, who’d spotted a stray cat on the street from their third-floor window.

Just as it seemed Ava had run out ideas, she suddenly sprinted ahead, straight for the lake. And while Beatrice already knew Ava would complain about her wet clothes for the next two hours, she also recognized that Ava was an adult, free to make her own choices — as long as they didn’t involve the stove.

“I can’t swim, by the way!”

Her roommate called over her shoulder gleefully, as she splashed through the water’s edge.

“Ava!”

The warning only encouraged her, of course… until she reached the drop-off. The one Beatrice had known was awaiting her, having gone for a morning swim on Sunday, their “day off” from training.

“Bea!”

Beatrice was still getting used to the nickname, despite Camila having used it first. Ava’s tone, though, was one Beatrice absolutely did not want to get used to.

“I’m here.”

If she did, it would mean she’d failed her mission… failed Ava.

“I’ve got you.”

She hadn’t this time, though, carrying her out of the water — Ava uncharacteristically quiet as she clung to her neck.

Beatrice wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, only that she felt her blush return — as Ava pulled back and promptly looked over Beatrice’s shoulder at the ground below — along with her hiccups.

She was too drained to fight a smile when Ava giggled again, but it was short-lived.

“Thanks, Bea.”

Beatrice set Ava down with a tingling right cheek.

She didn’t hiccup again.

[thisapplepielife]

only bc i am about to go on holiday and i absorb all your long works like a sponge and i so fondly remember reading tuesday's gone w the wind on a 6 hour flight and then waking up early every day when i was jetlagged in california to keep reading (im a slow reader)

what are the chances all across the universe is almost done and i might read it on this trip? 👀

(i will drop everything and read it the second it's done and no rush cause i do have other stuff queued up i just saw the last chapter drop a few weeks ago and was like !!! maybe it'll be done for my trip!)

Hi! This is so sweet. It thrills me that you enjoyed reading Tuesday's Gone With the Wind on a long flight/trip and would like to do that again with All Across the Universe!

You didn't say exactly how soon your trip is, so I can't answer this fully. But if it's this week, probably not. I still have to edit and, let's all be real, probably add to, lol, the last chapter.

Is it later this month? Odds are much better!

The last chapter is a long one, though, so it's gonna take me some time to get it into its final form. So, I don't have an exact posting date locked down quite yet.

But know that this does make me want to put a little more time and attention into it now!

Thanks so much for asking! ❤️

[clatterbane]

The next thing up is another day in that new outpatient surgery hell scheduled for Tuesday. 🤨

I did go ahead and successfully ask for some premedication. Ended up just telling the doctor when he came by after the procedure that I really wasn't sure if I could make myself come back, due to some past experiences elsewhere (making sure to emphasize that everyone had been great there, even as fried as my brain was by that point). I really hate feeling like my autistic ass is forced to play some kind of multidimensional manipulative social chess to try and get some needs met, which is tricky enough when I am in much better form than I was after that day. But, it apparently worked. The guy did actually seem sympathetic when my composure kinda broke down talking to him, and frankly he had probably already heard about my little PTSD meltdown earlier. I was afraid that would hurt me in general, but maybe not so much.

I now have some Oxascand waiting, which I am supposed to take far enough in advance that I am not sure how much effect there will still be by the time I even get to the hospital. (Also planning some preemptive Tylenol and take more along with me for after, as much musculoskeletal pain as my bendy ass ended up in from being stuck on a fucking gurney for hours last time. It always hurts to lie flat on my back, and I also kept ending up there. Felt like I had been hit by a truck, which probably struck my previously broken butt before sending me flying. Plus the inevitable effects of their Migraine Potion after the procedure, while I'm stuck there under fluorescent lights for at least a couple more hours before they'll let me go. Gonna bring along some cough drops and a rescue inhaler too, because coughing with the throat irritation from the damn anesthesia trach tube set off my asthma last time. Thankfully that did calm down on its own, but jfc. Do not need.)

Especially given the way my adrenaline-charged system seems to blast through benzos. But, at least that will hopefully help me get out the door to go to Lund for their early morning outpatient surgery cattle call. Idk about the hours of waiting until they wheel me back, but hopefully that will be slightly more bearable now that I do know what to expect. The premedication will at least hopefully help keep my white coat blood pressure down enough that this doesn't lead to more delays. Not surprisingly, the first reading they took while I was still sorta melting down was high enough that they waited to get a less alarming one.

The gastro endoscopy people really did burn through most of the trust they had managed to earn with this latest poor communication shitshow, I tell you what. I was down to mild dread of a quick unpleasant procedure before this, but I am back to looping unhelpful thoughts at the prospect of another round like the last one. Even going back in with a much better idea of what to expect, and prepare for.

And yes, it's starting up before the weekend for a Tuesday repeat.

I do at least trust them to be competent, try not to hurt me, and actually talk to me like I am a living human being rather than an annoyance. That is much better than I could say for the bunch I was stuck dealing with in the UK. That unfortunately still doesn't completely override the dread of being trapped in a fucking surgical unit pretty much all day.

[thesupreme316]

Oblivious (Darius Martin x Fem!Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Childhood Friends to Lovers

Summary: You make it up to Darius (who just had a horrible evening) and more happened than you anticipated.

Word Count: 1,553 (my b)

Supreme Speaks: OKAY this one took me a while (school and work) sorry @hooks-martin. i hope you and everyone enjoys this cause tumblr started being an shithead about my character count. i will release more works next week (@wwenhlimagines 😉). anyways, i hope everyone is doing well and remember you are loved and appreciated.

Warnings: not proofread, bffs being bffs, also this is my first time writing without bullet points (so again my b)

Taglist: @hooks-martin @wwenhlimagines @triscillal @diabloguapos @sheinthatfandom

“So, when’s the date?” You ask your best friend.

Your heart immediately dropped when he responded with “In two hours,” as he grabbed his suit.

You’ve been best friends with Darius Martin as long as you could remember. You two have been through everything together. From play dates on the playground to y’all’s high school graduation, to his first match, your first match, first crushes. Speaking of crushes, you had a crush on Darius since high school. And how could you not? The man fits your ideal type all the way; tall, athletic, amazing smile, great style, funny, the whole package. The bad news? He was so perfect that he fit the ideal types of others. So, he constantly had women in his face and on his radar. 

NOW YOU ON THE OTHER HAND? You were gorgeous, also athletic, and artistic too. Many people saw you as Darius’ equal and were confused about how ya’ll were not dating. But despite it all, he always made sure he had time for you; he would make sure that you knew you would always be number one (even though he didn’t show romantic interest). Which made you fall in love with him even more yet made you angry at him. How could he not know that you fell in love with him? Oh right, you never made your feelings known for fear he wouldn’t feel the same or ruin your friendship. So for years, you sat alone suppressing your feelings to not feel rejected. This leads to today; you sitting in his hotel room as he gets ready for his date.

“Oh,” you started, “I thought it was later this week.”

“Me too! But I’m excited. She’s a cool girl, you two would get along great.”

“I bet,” You said while thinking over my dead body.

“Hey, I promise we’ll hang out afterward. After all, you’re my favorite girl.” Darius smiled before shutting the bathroom door. Although it wasn’t the first time he called you that, your heart fluttered at the endearing term. You shook it off as him just trying to comfort you, rejecting the wave of feelings you experience.

Just as you were about to say something else, there was a knock at the door. “That her?” You rolled your eyes, hating how it was getting closer to that time of their date.

“No, we’re meeting at the restaurant. That’s probably Dante” He shouted from the bathroom.

Upon opening the door, you were met with the faces of Dante, Anthony, and Hook. “Hey guys.”

Anthony engulfed you in a hug, “Y/N! We missed you at Taco Tuesday.” Tyler (Hook) nodded at you and gave you a quick hug before walking in with Anthony. Dante closed the door with a sad smile and hugged you. He whispered, “I’m sorry he’s an idiot.” 

You slightly chuckled “I’m the idiot”

Dante always knew about your feelings toward his brother, trying on multiple occasions to get you together over the years. He was always the number one cheerleader for you guys. He truly believes that you are the one for Darius, no one else. “No, he’s really just being an idiot. I told him not to do this.”

As the boys (except for Dante) were hyping Darius up, you saw a flash of worry/sadness go across his face. You only saw that look when he was unsure about something; whether it was a decision, match, or test. Ever since that look, you didn’t feel right about the date.

As you were gonna ask what’s wrong, his timer went off, signifying it was time for him to leave. Darius grabbed his things before dapping everyone up and hugging you, then he left without any more words. Just like that, making your heart grow even more uneasy as his cologne scent became faint. “Something feels off about this” You spoke moments after he left.

Dante stood up, “Yeah, that’s because he’s going on a date with the wrong woman.”

Anthony turned to you, “Aww, are you jealous Y/N?”

Your eyes flicked around the room, avoiding eye contact. “No, I just don’t feel well right now. My head hurts so I’m gonna go, bye!” You said very quickly before leaving.

As you began walking down the hall, you heard Tyler’s muffled voice, “They’re both idiots.” 

You got back to your hotel room that you were sharing with Willow Nightingale, who knew something was wrong. As you explained what happened and how you felt, Willow immediately told you to put on some nice clothes and said you were going out on a “Girl’s Night”

This is the time you were really appreciative that you and Willow were close friends, to the point you can do spontaneous plans.

Two hours go by of you and Willow parading around the town in gorgeous gowns, looking like you were coming from the Met Gala even though you were going around Target. Your mood was uplifted and soon you started to forget your dilemma. Finally, you and Willow went to a restaurant that fit the themes of your outfits. Very fancy, very upscale, and expensive.

 As you were being led to a table, you saw a familiar face on the side. Upon closer look, it was Darius, alone on the phone. Your heart churned and skipped a beat in both happiness and sadness. As you turned to continue to walk, Willow shook her head and shooed you to Darius’ table. You hugged her tightly before walking towards him. Walking up to his table, you heard him being on Facetime with someone. “Dante-“ Darius started

“No, you should’ve done what I said and asked Y/N out. Then, you wouldn’t be there by yourself. Y/N really likes you and has been for years. I can’t believe you would let her go.” His younger brother said before hanging up abruptly

Darius slumped in his chair, leaning his head back. “You know he’s right in a way.” You spoke, startling him. 

“Y/N?” He got up to pull your chair out and sat in his seat again. “You look amazing but, what are you doing here? How much did-“

“No, first question: How long have you been here by yourself? And what happened?”

Darius sighed as he recounted his evening, “An hour and a half. I thought she would show up but I look on Instagram to see her with Carmelo Hayes at another restaurant.” You immediately were filled with anger yet sympathy for Darius. He didn’t deserve to be treated like this, no one did.

He continued, “Then sitting here made me think about myself and what I don’t have. Maybe it’s because I’m not signed to WWE. Or I don’t make enough money. Or maybe because I don’t look as good as him-“

You immediately cut him off, “Stop. Don’t do that. Darius, you are more than enough. You are an amazing man with incredible athleticism, a great personality, and handsome looks. I refuse to hear the man that I am in love with, degrade himself when that woman doesn’t understand what she’s missing out on. It’s her loss, not yours. Don’t act like that.” You sat back in your chair after a heartfelt monologue. 

You look back up at Darius, who’s smirking down at you. “So you are in love with me?”

Then, the realization of what you said just settled in your heart, mind, and face. There was no point in disagreeing, sighing, you said “Yeah. I’ve been in love with you since high school. I just thought there was no way you would like me back.” 

 “I thought you didn’t like me.” Darius said making your eyes go wide. “I’ve been in love with you since middle school. Every time I would hint at something, you never responded to it or you would think I’m joking.”

“That’s because you always dated other people!”

“That’s because I wanted to distract myself from you!” He exclaimed, making the table go silent in shock. Both of you realizing that you were oblivious and didn’t try to understand each other. Just making up assumptions. 

Darius chuckled, “We are so stupid.”

You giggled while nodding, “Yeah, we are. More you though.”

He smiled at you before grabbing your hand and saying, “Better late than never.”

“Yeah, but I prefer we start this over. Correctly”

“I agree.” Darius cleared his throat and looked into your eyes while intertwining your fingers, “Y/N, will go out on this date with me?” Again, Darius always made sure that your relationship was smooth sailing. This was nothing different, even if he was late or you were too oblivious to see it.

You looked up at the ceiling as if you were thinking about your answer. “Absolutely.”

As you two looked over the menu, with hands intertwined and all, Willow was on the phone with Dante, giving him the details of what just unfolded…

Quietly telling each other good job on their scheme.

[jhtechgeek2011]

Blown up phones, users and more

Tuesday night at work I had someone call me 4 or 5 times in a row, just one ring hang up, a couple rings hang up, 1 ring hang up, 3 rings hang up like they were just gonna MAKE me answer my phone. It's like dude you're NOT forcing me to answer no matter what you do, I am gonna keep hanging up and declining the call and putting you on silent and do not disturb till you stop it.  I then had 2 friends call and text me following those telemarketer/spammer/bill collector ones with the pattern. Friend 1 would NOT stop calling no matter how many times I kept telling her I CANNOT have phone calls at this job I am at today I can text you but even that is hard. Finally got her to get the point and stop calling, only for her to text a barrage of messages as if I can answer her immediately while a guest is at the desk. I text to tell her this and she doesn't even stop texting so I can get my message through. I then get a call from Friend 2, I tell her one time that I cannot have phone calls at the job I am at right now and we can message but even that is difficult. She immediately stops calling and texts. Friend 1 literally is mad at me for not being able to take her call during the job when I can't take ANYBODY'S calls.  She literally was snapping off at me about she really needed me she had a big emergency her mom did XYZ and her sister did ABC and her dad is mad at HER for it all. I am literally standing at my computer at work looking at this like this is an emergency for YOU, not ME girl. It's that entitlement people have of my needs taking precedence all my things are the biggest emergencies and you gotta help me with them asap!

This entitlement I saw with Friend 1 leads right to what I wanted to say about users. They are entitled, spoiled, selfish, drama queens that feel like everything they are going through is the most important, biggest emergency ever. It is that thing of thinking people owe them something and that they need to get what they think they're owed RIGHT NOW! It's that whole "Karen" mentality that drives me crazy. It can also be that they think they can get away with, get over on, and control everyone and everything. I even have people like this in my family and it sucks. I get calls from certain relatives in the middle of the night all urgent and like its an emergency and all they want is to ask to borrow money that I don't have. I will get called by certain other relatives and friends to ask if I can come to hang out with them only to end up at their house doing something for them, some favor they could have just asked for. They do not, however, ask outright because they know my answer is likely to be no. Like friend 3 that I have who asked me to come to hang out at her house and help her with her resume, cover letter, and website only to turn around and leave me working on it by myself and take off with her boyfriend and not come back for several hours, thereby getting what she really wanted, which was for me to babysit her kids and do her resume and crap for her. She then came back 3 hours later with her boyfriend dropping her off and leaving me stuck without a way home since her boyfriend left with her car. I ended up taking a taxi home because of that. I did NOT write her resume or cover letter and after the first half hour she was gone and I called her for her to tell me she would be back in another half hour, I quit working on her website because I knew what she was pulling and I was NOT going. I will never go to her house again, she blew that option from now on with me. 

I have had too many people trying to use and take advantage of me and I am so over it. Nobody will be allowed to trample my boundaries or use me again. I am not being taken advantage of again. I will help only within my boundaries and limits and I will not stratch or push them for anyone else ever again. If you cannot abide by or accept that, then there's the door go ahead and walk right out of my life. I am not obligated to let  you walk all over my boundaries because you think you are entitled to get your way and have whatever you want from whoever you want it from and to never be told no. I am done with users and "Karens" that think they can do this to people, period.

On another note, I have dealt with a different kind of Karen lately as well. I was at the grocery store the other day and there was a long line at the self check outs, this one particular Karen was taking up the entire aisle leaving no room for people to walk past the self checkouts and get to the chip aisle and frozen section. Everyone's having to go down like the cereal aisle or something and then up the other side by the meat just to get to those 3 aisles on the other side of the aisle hogging Karen at the self checkout. What makes you think you can just do that? There is enough room for you to wait in the self checkout line AND leave enough room for through traffic to other aisles, all you have to do is move over to the side half a foot. This is the same type of person that will pull their car WAY into the traffic lane to parallel park on the curb. If you are parallel parking the entire point is to pull up PARALLEL with the front car and the back into the space between it and the car behind. You REALLY suck at parallel parking if you have to pull your car on an ANGLE out INTO traffic to get into the parking space, that's literally NOT parallel parking. 

The other type of person that I have dealt with is the ones that think they own the entire road and nobody else is driving except them. The ones that will fly down a residential street going highway speed because they're in a hurry. It doesn't even get you where you are going sooner in the long run because the purpose of highway speed is for highways where there are NO stop signs, traffic lights or pedestrians to stop for. I almost got hit twice on either the way to or the way home from work by the same car (I think) doing 55 to 60 mph in a 25mph residential zone. I also live by a school and during the school day the speed drops 5 to 10mph slower to 15 to 20mph. What sense does it even make to go that fast just to stop a block later? NONE! It is dangerous and you're putting everybody's life including your own because you're in a hurry and it doesn't even help you to use all that speed and you just end up arriving either on time or late anyways because you use up all your gas speeding up and stopping over and over so you have to stop at the gas station which deletes any time you made going so fast, either that or you get pulled over and ticketed for speeding like that and end up later than you would have had you just gone a normal speed in the first place. Bottom lime your appointment, date, job, etc. is not more important that people's lives and driving highway speed on city streets wont even save you time anyways because of all the stopping and the potential speeding ticket slowing you down. Just stop the stupid speeding and learn how to share the road with the other people that are using it, you're NOT the only one out here on the road!

One last thing that I have been dealing with lately is people that think they're going to drag you back into bad habits or situations that you have already gotten out of. The worst offenders with this are like what happened with my uncle, he had a bad addiction that he went to NA and got clean from but he had friends that hadn't kicked that were pulling him back into using again. He had to stay away from them in order not to be drawn into a relapse. For me it is with mental health things that i have gotten treatment for and gotten out of that I have certain friends and relatives that want to drag me back into it. Certain things that my bipolar disorder, for example, caused I got help for and stopped doing but certain people in my life try to draw me back into them because they're still stuck in them and haven't gotten the help with it. Another thing is with diets, I no longer deal with diets, I had a problem around diets and eating and I got the help I needed to deal with this problem and am out of those behaviors and don't do diet stuff anymore. Some people that I know are still immersed in that kind of thing and try to draw me in, I have repeatedly said I will not discuss it and am not returning to it. 

One relative I have has this program she is in for therapy about some of these issues and she really expects me to sit with her through all her therapy sessions (online) on the phone with her and I refuse. I have one friend that she checks in with me before and after her similar kind of therapy and on her break in the middle of it but she doesn't expect what my relative does. My relative expects me to sit through the entire thing with her from start to finish because she's afraid or uncomfortable or whatever. I have told her no. I no longer answer her calls when I know it is time for her therapy because she pretty much refuses to take no I can't do this with you for an answer. You're the one in the dang therapy, go take your therapy. I completed mine already Im not going through it all over again.  This same thing happened with a friend of mine when we were in college, she wanted me to go through her classes with her when I already completed them the year before her or the semester before her. I am not getting ready to sit on the phone or chat with you for your whole class when Im already done with that class and got my grade for my work already. People that do that are annoying and selfish. You go deal with your own therapy, own class, own job, whatever, I don't need to do it too, I don't have that job or I finished that course already or I am done with that therapy and on to another type or whatever the case may be, I have been there done that got the t-shirt, your turn. These tend to be the same folks that expect someone to do their assignments in school for them, let them copy your exams, want you to do their work for you at a shared job or work for their job when you have a totally different job and it's not on you that they brought the work home with them or whatever. It's lazy, entitled selfish, and immature of them to do it and I wish that they'd stop. But just because they don't stop doesn't mean I gotta still deal with it, I won't. You do your stuff, I'll be over here doing mine talk to you later bye.

[theprinceofnothingatall]

November 17, 2024- 110.2 ish

It’s all going to shit again and it’s my fault.

I’m “fixing” it by water fasting for 6 days.

I crave a cigarette and I haven’t tasted one in two months now. Just sounds nice with the cold air. Maybe I’ll go out on the roof and have one on Friday.

My partner came home. He’s sitting on the bathroom floor doing homework while I’m in the bath. Really annoyed the past two days, but I stopped taking my bipolar meds and anxiety so that’ll do it. Still taking my apple cider vinegar and green tea weight loss pill.. only one the next few days since it’s water fast diet of lemon water, diet soda, black coffee, and plain herbal or black tea. I could have a bang or 0 cal energy drink on Friday but no money til then. I’ll break about 142 hours or longer on sat. I’ll take a bite of something. No more than that I have to be careful not to hurt my tummy. I’m going to feel so good. I’ll be 50 hrs in when I go back to work Tuesday. Work for 3 days. Good activity.. I’ll work really hard. Fasting so I feel better. They won’t fire a sick person who’s brother attempted suicide and they need me it’s end of the year. I won’t screw up anymore. I won’t be so worthless anymore. It’s a bit crazy trying to lose 10 pounds in 6 days but hey it’s possible. I’ve never water fasted longer than half a day. Nearly a week will only trim my down, take away any bloat and make me feel light as a feather. This will make me feel better… every 10 hours I can have soda or a drink or tea or something.. maybe 5. In 5 hours it’ll be almost 4. I’ll have a soda. 5 more hours it’ll be almost 9, I’ll have ginger tea or something. Drink my black coffee in a small cup so it’s more manageable and more like 1 cal the 1-2 cal tea and coffee will have won’t break just 10 from the energy drink would cause just cause. My fast my rules. Monday I’ll fall asleep at 8 or 9. Prolly 8 just to make sure. I’ll start taking iron. My leg circulation has been fucking up. B/p free face in… well by Dec 1. Guess my limit for camping will be 400. Might stay that too con then go up to 742 then back down.. after … god thanksgiving is the 26. That’s in nevermind the 28… still that’s 10 days. My limit will stay 400 for the camping tree and I’ll go back to water fasting when we get back… 742 cal limit for thanksgiving then back to water fasting depending. If I’m 99 in 6 days, or even 101.2. No 99, I can go to 400 after thanksgiving til con but that’s just 9 days. That’s 216 hours.. 3 days more than what I’m doing now. Only an hour and half in.. the fucking irony of my stomach making noises because of the pill moving my food and my fat gut digesting pizza and he asks if I want anything for lunch. His appetite has come back some. But I’m still only 74 pounds lighter… our difference needs to be drastic.. if I were 84 he’d be 100 pounds more than me. But he’s gonna lose more.. 74 pounds lighter than me then he’d be 158… prolly as far down as he’ll get anyway… it’s so triggering to me.. I’ll have to lose weight fasting like this. I’m clipping all my nails when I get out of the shower. Maybe I’ll paint them. He whispered I love you. Doesn’t sound like him. That fake. God he won’t touch me rn why did he think it would be so easy for me to touch her last night? We just had that conversation JUST a few hours before. Then turned it around like I was the bad one. They’re about to be so busy with work I can at least fake eat. I’ll not ask for food from their job. Hell maybe I’ll drop a cup size by Dec 1 that’d be nice. Imma finish my wig… well one of them today. And drink my water and whatnot. Maybe if I faint at thanksgiving my dad will give a shit. I have to be smaller and clearly sicker than my dumb ass step sister… taking laxatives.. god and she looks like an ugly witch right now. At least when I’m thin I’m pretty.. I want her to see me and how I do it so much better. I want them to wonder what happened to me and worry. My dad will give me money to try and encourage me to get groceries and I’ll be grateful. I just want them to care. The perfect little partner on this camping trip. He can pull me onto his lap. They’ll be wine I’m sure. His parents are fancy. My sweet reward for my hard work. Only needing a glass to get a good buzz. They’ll order that fancy pizza. I’ll grab a small piece and take a bite. Two bites for symbolism. Maybe eat the slice.

[jodilin65]

TUESDAY, JUNE 30, 1998 Oh, my fucking God! Caddy kid just went blasting by like you wouldn’t believe. He did this yesterday at this time, too, but not as loud. So what are we in for here? We back to the blasting by several times a day? I think one of these mornings Caddy kid may find me waiting for him in the street. It obviously isn’t a kid in school since school’s out, so I guess it’s going to a job in the mornings.

It’s pretty ironic that Caddy Kid starts up again right when El Cocko leaves. As if something wants to compensate me for the lack of door slams and for just knowing that that fuck’s not there as much.

At 7:15, we went through the same weird ritual next door. The Caddy pulled up just to the opening of the carport, then we went through 10-15 minutes of door slamming, then El Cocko pulled up at the curb in front of the house. I came to peek out just as I saw him walking from the back of his car, then he got in and drove off. I don’t think it was in its trunk, so maybe, the Caddy comes to get the bitch and he comes to get the kid.

In my email to my folks, I mentioned how cutting out real sugar has helped a bit, and in her reply, she said I could do anything I set my mind to do. Oh yeah? Well, that’s weird coming from her. Weird, but nice. She’d never have said that to me in the past, but it’s nice to have her vote of confidence.

For the third day in a row, I was 120 pounds even at the end of my day. Even after not eating for 12 hours, though, I stayed at 120 for a couple of reasons. Well, first off, my metabolism’s still slow and secondly, getting down into the one-teens is gonna be very very hard cuz it’s now completely foreign to my body to do that. It’d take it time to “learn” how to get down there. Just like it took time for my body to get the hang of being at 100 pounds and staying there for quite a while. I still don’t think this 120 will keep on holding, let alone drop into the one-teens. I still think I’ll return to 124 and stay there indefinitely.

We did go to Melanie’s yesterday after all. Tom still has to have work done on the car and is gonna be taking it to a dealer since the place he brought the car to yesterday didn’t touch it after promising to have it done by noon.

Melanie looked hot, but I like her with bangs better than with her hair swept back off her forehead. Either way, she has nice hair. I just hope she doesn’t ever hack it off short while I’m seeing her.

She asked me more about the mice and if Tom likes animals too. I asked her when I was gonna get to see her with her hair straightened and she said she didn’t know, but she straightens it a couple of times a week. If she were attracted to me too, and cared about my opinion, and wanted me to see her in different ways for variety, she’d have it straightened next time I go to her, but I know better. She’s not the least bit attracted to me and could care less about showing me her hair straightened. As you know, I like straight hair better than curls, but it’s hard to picture her hair straight. Maybe because she’s so exceptionally good-looking, she looks better with it curled and to me, it does take a great-looking woman to look good in curly hair.

For a moment, as she was in front of me getting tools as I was lying back, she turned, and her eyes swept me from head to toe for a second. Oh, how I wish she was checking me out with lust in her eyes, but nope. It was just a casual glance, I’m sure.

I try hard not to stare too long into those gorgeous, dark brown eyes cuz I wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable. Melanie will never know of my crush on her, but I wonder how she’d react to being told of my attraction for her. Would she be OK with it? Even flattered? Or would she freak? Part of me thinks she’d be OK with it, but the other part’s not sure cuz I see a hint of Rosemarie in her. She’s friendly and is more talkative, but she’s more serious and I can see traces of that snobbish, judgmental Rosemarie in her. Given those touches of Rosemarie in her, if they really are there, she may refer someone like me to someone else if she knew.

I still wish she were my neighbor, rather than my ortho. It’d be worth her two dogs that’d be outside barking just a few feet away 24/7. I’m sure her dogs, like all dogs out here, are outside all the time. It’s a bummer that we’ll never be friends. Even just friends, which would be enough for me, but that’s life.

Anyway, getting the bracket on was no easy task for her. She didn’t have enough hands and even had me help by holding a tool in place while she went to get a couple of others to help hold wires. I almost got poked in the eye by one of the wires. I was pretty sore, as she said I’d be, for a few hours last night and today. I took some Ibuprofen. I’m OK as long as I don’t bite into any hard foods. Besides, I’m not eating much, and I don’t want to risk knocking off this bracket.

I have to see her now every two weeks till that tooth comes into place. What a bitch and what a bitch on my scheduling. Tom says it’ll be easier than I think. I hope so and thank God, she’s so gorgeous! It helps.

Later…

I knew I’d gain weight again. I’m up to 122 pounds and climbing. My body’s really comfortable in this day and age at 124 pounds. It’ll get back there by the end of today or tomorrow.

Lisa called and she’s fed up. She says she knows she deserves punishment for getting suspended, doesn’t mind helping out, loves her mother, but has had enough of the never-ending grueling chores and is sick of having no life. She also says she’s to be leaving with Bill in a couple of days to go to Florida. Tammy’s gonna let her be alone with a guy who beats her and who just came close to hitting her again? Real smart, Tammy!

God, when are you gonna kill this guy? What? Do you love him that much? Is he just too great of a guy for hitting Lisa that you just can’t kill him? How can you let such sick, unfair shit go on in this world, you fucking bastard?!

Anyway, Lisa’s afraid that doing what she’s got to do would interfere with her seeing my folks. Also, Tammy said she’d never talk to her again if she went to live with Larry. What kind of a mother would say that to their own kid? She’s really a hell of a mother for not accepting what her kid wants and for being so selfish.

I told Lisa that she’s got to worry about herself and her own needs. Not what Tammy would do or think and not about visiting people. I told her that she could either stay where she is, go to Larry’s, or talk to her therapist about taking legal action through the courts to get her out of that house and into God knows where. Kids have a ton of rights nowadays where they used to have none. There should be some legal action she can take to get her out of that house. Something they didn’t have when I was her age. She can petition the courts to live with Larry or at least somewhere that’s not a funny farm that’ll just dope her up.

Later…

I spoke with Larry a little while ago. I began to tell him of my earlier talk with Lisa and he stopped me and said that before I went any further, he didn’t want to get into that he said she said ordeal, and said he’s working on it, just listen to Lisa, and that’s it. So after I reminded him that I was on his side and would never repeat any of our discussions with the wrong person, he let me know that he’s still on top of it and hasn’t given up. Thank God! He also said he’s talked to Mom. I’m sure that since Mom’s mad at Tammy, she’s encouraging him to do what he’s gotta do. If she weren’t mad at Tammy, she’d probably tell him not to get involved.

I’m hoping that he and Lisa can petition the courts to allow Lisa to live with Larry. I would think that any normal, rational court would take Lisa’s feelings into consideration and listen to her when she talks of her emotional state at that house.

Later…

Here’s that blue pickup that does the freeloader’s yard. Guess they’re gonna be coming every Tuesday, huh?

Got that Olivia Newton-John CD after all. I didn’t think I’d get it.

Later…

Yup, we’re back to the 3 times a day routine from Caddy Kid. Well, tomorrow I’ll be waiting for him.

Got the bedding my parents sent. It’s bright, but sort of boring. The sheets are plain yellow and the comforter has a yellow floral design. It beats that blue-striped one they sent, though, and is always nice to have.

MONDAY, JUNE 29, 1998 Yesterday, Tom relaxed and did his two favorite things - TV and computer.

We screwed too, and this time, he stayed in there for a while. Neither of us came, but as always these days, I’m glad to see him not cum. I don’t like the mess it makes, and he’s just as happy not cumming, so it works out well. Nowadays, I consider us to finally have the ideal sex life but back when I was horny all the time and wanted him to cum, it was a humiliating, frustrating ordeal!

Today I see Melanie. Can’t wait! I’m gonna be kind of tired when I see her, but at least I don’t have to worry about having to take Benadryl and get back to sleep if I wake up after just 4 hours after today.

In two weeks I see that Dr. Linda Brown. I hope I have the strength to do right by God and do the proper thing period, by not mentioning my infertility. It’s not a health hazard, therefore, I should be left as God created me and allowed me to be. It’s for a reason and a good one, too. I shouldn’t be mentioning my weight either, as God’s gonna get me for the few pounds I’ve lost as it is. At least I believe he will. Maybe not, though. Maybe it’d take me losing 10-15 pounds before compensation made its way to me.

I wonder if Melanie will notice the difference in me. It’d be nice if she were just as attracted to me as I am to her, but I know better. Still, the fantasy is nice. Most people, gay or straight, aren’t attracted to overweight people, though. Yes, I’m definitely smaller, and for the 3rd day in a row I woke up at 120 pounds, but I’m still a chunky one. I still say my appetite will return and I’ll go back to that infamous 124 pounds, as I always end up doing.

I knew it. Andy didn’t call during the weekend cuz I told him it’d be OK to. If I had asked him yet again not to, he’d have called for sure.

Marla’s gone back east for 3 weeks to stay at the beach. Charlotte and Jim are there now. They still come to New England for the summers. Boo and Max are gonna be selling their house in Longmeadow.

Anyway, Marla says that once she gets back home, she’ll discuss jury duty with me. All she said so far was that a guy was found guilty of murder, sane at the time of the shooting, and got sentenced to death. But he won’t die if you ask me. Unfortunately, criminals get much less than they’re sentenced to. If you get death, you really get life in prison 99% of the time. If you get 20 years, you serve 5-10. It’s really asinine.

For fun and for stuff like email, I’m gonna try out this new talker that Tom’s got once he makes my computer even faster. With this one, you don’t have to talk so slowly. It can keep up with you talking at normal speed, but it still won’t be as fast and as accurate as my typing.

Also, Tom’s gonna see about Mary sending me a copy of a really high-tech, sophisticated word processor, now that she’s got a modem (which she miraculously installed herself!) and can send it by phone. This one’s supposed to let me have more color choices.

On Saturday, we went to a used bookstore which is great. It groups books more organized compared to the library. There was a section with hundreds of books that I like that is like searching for a needle in a haystack at the library. It only costs $16 for 8 books and I can take these books back when I’m done with them for credit and get 8 more for just $8. Usually, though, they charge half of the cover price.

It appears Tom was right - the red car that’s been next door is a rental. A couple, I guess, flew in from God knows where to visit the bitch. They may be gone now, though, cuz unless the car’s pulled up in the carport, it’s not there. I can’t believe how quiet they were, but again, I really believe that’s cuz the cock’s been out of the picture. If it were around, they’d be barbecuing and having loud parties for hours, not to mention blasting music. Speaking of music, that’s why I think Tom’s right about the rental car. Those don’t come with those killer stereos, so that explains why there was no music, cuz I’m sure that they’d be happy to bang in and out if it did have a stereo like that, with or without the cock around.

The Caddy just pulled in. I can’t see the driver, though, and who knows if it’s to pick up the kid, her, or both? Speaking of Caddies, Caddy Kid’s been by only once that I know of since Tom said he heard him bang by a few days ago. Thank God it’s not cruising by 3 times a day every day, though!

Those wireless headphones Tom got are great. You can go all around the house and into the backyard with them. They’ll be great for housework and for doing anything out back during the winter when the guard dogs are at it non-stop.

OK bitch, that’s the eighth door slam. Why don’t you get in or out and have Caddy get the fuck out now? What? Is this bitch packing little by little cuz she couldn’t make her late rent payment?

What the fuck’s going on now? I just up and checked and the Caddy’s finally fucked off now, but guess who was parked on the street? Mr. Baldy himself. Yeah, I saw him get into his car and leave. Again, no music, fortunately for them, but why would he pop in so early in the morning? I doubt he’s moved back in yet, cuz if he spent the night, he wouldn’t have parked in the carport, then moved it to the street. And I know it wasn’t on the street all night cuz I’d have seen it. I’m hoping that he used the U-Haul to move his shit out for at least a few months. Cuz if he were only taking off for a week or two, why would you need enough stuff to pack in a U-Haul for just a couple of weeks?

Later…

Well, we’re not going to see Melanie today. I worked really hard at getting on schedule all for nothing. Out of our two shitty cars, one won’t start, and one’s in the shop. Tom said they said the car would be ready at noon. Bullshit! I know how people overestimate time. I’ll be seeing Melanie some other day.

SUNDAY, JUNE 28, 1998 It's gonna be a really close call getting to Melanie's tomorrow. I didn't sleep as late as I'd have liked to. I want to stay up at least until 8 PM, but already I am so tired!

Today Tom's 41. He's still asleep. He picked out a birthday cake, got wireless headphones, and he even picked me up a really nice Arizona puzzle with cactuses and palm trees.

He also got food for the critters and a bottle for Bunny. I have it hooked to a piece of chicken wire that's surrounding one of the cactuses out there. This'll be better than a water dish so that bugs, dirt, and leaves won't get in it.

SATURDAY, JUNE 27, 1998 God, the Humane Society really is full of its share of desperate, begging, bribing people who just don’t give up! They sent me more animal labels in the hopes of getting some money from me. Well, I can use these, thanks to them, till we move.

The red car was still parked here when I crashed at 11:00 this morning. And thanks to the Benadryl, which I don’t know what I’d do without, I slept well and long. I slept on and off for 12 hours so seeing Melanie should be no prob!

Before Tom went to bed at 10:00 he left me a message saying that that car had been in and out, but he couldn’t always hear when they’d come or go. By that, he means car doors, or else he’d have told me there was music or something else if he’d heard it. He said he got a quick glimpse of that guy and said he didn’t think it was the same guy. He said this guy appeared older and had some hair. Well, I don’t know about that, but I got to thinking about it afterward and perhaps this guy isn’t black enough. Wasn’t Mike darker than this guy?

I looked out and didn’t see the car, so unless it’s in the carport, I don’t know what the story is with this car or who these people are. Maybe it’s the kid and a girlfriend, who knows? I just hope there won’t be no shit this weekend. Things have been great and I want to keep it that way as long as I can, preferably till we move, if God will allow it. What? Is this car gonna come and go and slam me 20 times a day this weekend? That’d be better than music, but I’d still rather not have to deal with that.

I awoke at 120 pounds. I could eat my way back up to 124 by the end of my day if I ate normally, but I’m still not hungry enough to do so and don’t want to risk getting sick again. I’ll be back to 124. I always am sooner or later. This is the third or fourth time I’ve hit down at 120. It never lasts long and again, I better hope, in a way, that I don’t get thin again cuz the compensation and price to pay for it may be worse than being fat itself.

Tom was telling me that for now, since people’s needs constantly change, he’s sacrificing his dream of having a home business for me. He says he doesn’t know what he’ll do in the future, but says that right now, it’d be a bad thing to do cuz it’d take our time away from each other. Then why would he ever think he wanted a kid? I think I know what he’s driving at by saying this to me. There may be a very serious grain of truth to what he’s saying. I’m not saying he doesn’t have a point, but could he be hoping that he could use that to get me to put off being tested? He said that he notices that if he encourages me daily to do something that’s not easy for me to do, it pressures me. Well, he can rest assured cuz even if I did want a kid still, I wouldn’t do anything to steal our time away from each other. I would say no to a kid no matter what, but I don’t want that anymore, and I’m not so sure I’m that curious anymore to go through the hassles of testing and all that. I’ve had enough tests and medical procedures to last me 20 lifetimes. And I’m still one gutless puppy. It’s not that I’m embarrassed to talk about it to a doctor or afraid of the testing itself. I’m afraid of God. If I go against him, he wouldn’t hesitate to lash out at me. Also, no doctor could help us without us dealing with Tom’s infrequent cumming and I still don’t see how he’d let himself be helped with that. I’m still certain that he’d have conned and manipulated his way out of being helped, which, therefore, would’ve meant we could not be helped. Even if they fixed me, it would do us no good with our strange and part-time sex. So I’ll be OK with wondering all my life exactly what makes me sterile and I’ll most certainly be OK without a kid. I love life and my husband too much for that even if I am an abnormal, fat, unique, freaky thing with her share of trouble and a few bad days here and there.

Later…

What the fuck? How fucking weird! That car just came in. There were two not-too-loud door-slams and this is just sooooo baffling. I have no clue as to what the hell’s going on anymore. Are these people moving her little by little? Would that explain all the trips in and out? But at this hour? Sounds like drug runs to me, cuz wouldn’t I sense it for sure if the bitch was moving? I know I didn’t sense that bald fuck splitting, but wouldn’t I sense it if she were splitting? And wouldn’t there be some kind of sale or rent sign up? Maybe not, cuz I’d guess the city would want to come in and fix the place up before putting up any signs to sell it if they sold it and didn’t rent it to another pack of poor blacks or Hispanics.

Later…

I got Weight Watchers magazine in the mail today. It was boring and I pretty much just skimmed through it. It was one of the 3 magazines I ordered on account of Becky’s being a brownie.

I wouldn’t be surprised if that red car didn’t move till the early afternoon. All these freeloaders have always seemed to be night people for the most part, and I’m sure that after coming in at 4:00 in the morning, they’re gonna want to sleep in. These could be friends of the bitch’s. Maybe she decided that without Baldy in the picture, she didn’t feel comfortable being here alone cuz of me, so she asked her friends to move in. I don’t know where the hell they’d sleep, though, if she’s in one room, the freeloader’s in another, and teeny bop’s in the other. Perhaps the living room?

FRIDAY, JUNE 26, 1998 Our little freeloader just slammed in. I heard two car doors really loud like it wanted to get someone’s attention. Someone meaning me, of course. Some people just don’t give up! It’s parked up front, so hopefully that means it’ll leave. I couldn’t see for sure if it was his car, but who else would it be at this hour? I just hope it doesn’t plan on staying the weekend, but we’ll see.

Later…

Fuck! The freeloader’s still here. I know what this means, too. It means it’s negotiating with her about coming back. This is a definite sign saying it’s on its way back. As it got closer to moving back in last year, its visits got more frequent and its overnight stays increased, too, then it was back to stay.

Later…

In just a couple of hours, daylight will be here and I’ll be able to see this vehicle more clearly that’s parked out front. It looks a little tall to be the freeloader’s gray car and the shape seems a bit off. You never know what a car dealer’s gonna be driving, though. Or car thief. Whichever it truly is. I just hope it’s not back in a Jeep again. something about jeeps makes him tend to blare the music more, but let him. Cuz if he does, he’s out of here and so is the bitch. So far, though, there’s been no music and it’s great not hearing a million door slams a day. For now, anyway.

I’ll also call Lisa to see what’s going on. I’ll call her at 6 AM our time which will be 9 AM her time and when Tammy will be gone to work.

Later…

How the fuck can that cat still be alive?! White Paws came in to eat, then I decided to torment the little bitch with a broom handle since I still don’t like this cat like I like Blackie. White Paws sort of takes after her bitch of a mother. After a few minutes of jamming the broom tip into her head with all my strength, she bolted for the door. I caught her in the door by her neck and pressed with all my strength. She wailed, but since I didn’t feel like pressing this door into her forever, I let her go and she ran to the side of the house where the cinder blocks are where she was born. Blackie followed her.

Blackie just came back in to eat some more, but White Paws won’t. She’ll be stupid enough to come back tomorrow, though. If she doesn’t die today, then yes, God really wants me dealing with this cat while we’re still here. In fact, she’s already getting braver. She’s now out back, rather than at the side of the house (I just went out to give Measles mice food since it has the same seeds/grains birds eat). What is it with cats and abuse? Do they like it? Or are they just too stupid to remember it and avoid it from happening again?

Later…

Boy, are we getting weirder by the minute! I just can’t keep up with all these cars and people at the freeloaders. That car was not the gray car. It was a red car. Again, it was fairly new and fairly nice.

At 7:45 I saw the bitch walking up her driveway. Maybe she went out to pick up newspapers. A few minutes later that silver Caddy pulled up and it waited 15 minutes for the bitch. I think it was that same car, but this time, the driver was female. If I heard right, the bitch put the kid in this car, but she didn’t leave in it. She and the driver were talking as loud as can be, as rude as can be, as if they were the only ones on the street and as if everyone is on their schedule and gets up when they do. I could only make out a few scattered words. None of which I can remember.

Then a female I may or may not have seen before (black, tall, fat) came and got in the passenger side of the red car. Same thing - talking deliberately loud and making sure to really slam doors hard. A male got into the driver’s side, which would explain why I heard two door slams at just after midnight last night. One for her, one for him, but I couldn’t tell who “him” is. It could be Mike, it could be the kid. The kid’s about the same height and old enough to drive, I think.

So, at just after 7:00 they left and 45 minutes later they returned. How fucking weird! Who the fuck would leave early on a weekday morning for just 45 minutes? I wonder when they’ll leave again and if I’ll hear music. Guess it’ll all depend on just how much they want to stay here. What? Are there 4 people living there now, or what? Is this car gonna be slamming in and out daily now?

Well, I’m gonna go read and try to stay awake as long as I can to get to see Melanie on Monday. She’ll be calling in about an hour!

Later…

I forgot to say that Tom’s mom got hearing aids and they make quite a difference, so that’s good.

Also, I called and spoke to Lisa. Tammy leaves at 6:30 in the morning and doesn’t return till 4:00. I guess the sick fuck (Bill) stops by daily.

Die, you bastard, die!

If he did die, though, then that’d scrap the child support payments. Fortunately, Lisa didn’t cut herself and I told her how relieved I was to hear that and that I was very proud of her, too. She said she was just pissed cuz Tammy came in after she had cleaned all day and yelled, “What have you been doing all day?” Guess Becky and Sarah made messes that made it look like Lisa hadn’t done anything, I don’t know.

Lisa, Becky and Sarah are home alone all day. I asked Lisa (after speaking to Sarah and Becky. Becky says she’s gonna send me a letter) what Becky and Sarah do all day. She says they watch TV and eat all day. She says Becky’s a bit heavy. I knew it. I could tell from the pictures I’ve seen of her over the last 5 years or so, so I knew she’d be heavy sooner or later. Out of the three of them, I think she’ll be the one to look a lot like Tammy. In her latest picture, I saw Tammy in her unlike I’d ever seen in any of Sarah’s or Lisa’s pictures. She is quite homely. Sarah’s cute, but too young to really tell how she’ll look when she gets older. Lisa’s looking good, but it’s so hard to really see them from just pictures and videos.

Three little girls all alone in the woods like that is a bit scary. What if a crazed gunman decided to break into that secluded little house thinking it was empty? What if when he saw three girls in there (although Lisa and Becky aren’t so little) he decided to rape, sodomize, beat, and even kill them? Well, hopefully God will protect them from any such tragedy and nightmare.

The only fear I have about moving is break-ins. It’s so secluded where we’re going. There’d be no witnesses. I can’t believe that in the 12 years Tammy’s lived in that house, and in the 8 years the fuck lived in there alone prior to meeting Tammy, there’s never been a break-in. The only problem they’ve had is kids breaking into their car once.

Later…

Just had a wonderful little chat with Melanie. I said, “Hi Melanie” when I picked up the phone and she asked how I knew it was her. I told her we had caller ID and that not many other people would be calling at this time.

I told her the tooth has come down some more and she said that this time she’s gonna see if she can get a bracket on it. I hope so and that it stays.

Then I said I thought one of my mice got loose, to start some small talk. She said, “Oh, you got mice?” I said yes, and told her about all the animals here. She said she thought she was bad and told me she’s got two dogs, two cats, a bird and a hamster. Then she told me to have a good weekend and that was pretty much it. Can’t wait to see her!

The red car’s still here.

THURSDAY, JUNE 25, 1998 Again, how do I get used to cigarettes again and how did I get used to them in the first place? Yeah, I had Tom get me cigarettes again. He got them nearly an hour after I asked him to, though. I know he wanted to eat and wake up, but I think he was stalling with the hopes that I’d change my mind.

Accepting the new fat me just isn’t as easy as I hoped it’d be. What if it takes me as many years to accept it as it took me to accept never having a kid, among other things?

If I can rehook myself to cigarettes, I’m gonna quit again either way. I’ll either lose weight and will stop eating when I stop smoking again. Or I won’t lose weight but will quit again and go to a doctor to find out why I can’t lose weight. If the doctor tells me there’s really nothing I can do about it, and that that’s just the way some people are, especially older non-smokers whose heart rates and metabolisms differ from those who are younger or who smoke, only then can I accept my fate as a fat person. Like I said, I know I’ll be fat either for a long time or for the rest of my life, but I just can’t seem to accept it. Here’s a scary thought, though. What if I can’t quit the second time around? I thought that because I lost a lot of weight once, I could do it again. Obviously, I was wrong, so what if I can’t quit smoking again if I return to it? I never thought I’d have such mixed emotions as far as my finally being able to get off the cigarettes and my no longer wanting a child goes. I’m happy I quit smoking and improved my lungs (some of the time), but that only made me fat. I’m glad I finally stopped wanting the child I could never deal with or have, but still, I feel like I’ve swapped one problem for another. I feel controlled and as if all rights to choose have been stripped from me. If I miraculously could be thin again with or without cigarettes, I’d have some new problem thrown at me. If I decided I wanted a kid again, could magically fight God and Tom to get that kid, my new problems would be the fact that I could not handle a kid cuz of my schedule and cuz of the way I am. I know I’d only be another Dureen and Tammy and that I’d abuse it. I can see now just how easy it’d be to succumb to beating it and throwing it away to foster homes or funny farms. Tom says that’s the first step to doing something about it, but it’s not that easy. Just cuz you know you shouldn’t do something, doesn’t mean that you’ll be able to do what’s right.

Or am I just telling myself this shit to make it easier to deal with what I’ll never have???

So, the point is, I feel trapped and hopeless either way. Most of my problems, like my schedule, inability to sleep with my own husband, and infertility, aren’t your common everyday problems that can be fixed, they’re rare, unique, freakish problems that I could never fix. I feel like I’ll be trapped, overwhelmed and miserable no matter what. I either smoke and make my lungs worse, I either don’t smoke and be fat, I either don’t have a kid and wonder from time to time just what I could be missing or if I was right about how I feel it would have been like, or I have a kid and suffer the consequences of that. Meaning, the giving up of my life and the not being able to handle it. The bottom line is that there is nothing I can do about these things. It’s out of my hands. I have no say in these matters whether I tried to have some say in it or not. I can’t fight God and I can’t fight my husband. So, all I can do is try to remember that God made me and my life as it is for a reason and that if I didn’t have the problems I do, there’d only be other problems that I’d have. Also, I believe that if Tom really wanted a kid as bad as he says he does, he’d push me a little harder to see what could be done about that.

Maybe I could do something about my fat and my inability to reach out for help in fixing my female parts due to my fears about being a parent if Tom suggested every day that I should do whatever I could do to fix these problems and go to a doctor, but I can’t make Tom suggest things he doesn’t want to suggest. And a repetitious daily suggestion is what it’d take too. I’m that scared and weak. I wish I could conquer my fears, but I can’t, and I can’t make my husband say something that isn’t in his heart or that isn’t important to him. My husband will still be fine and will still love me if I stay fat and he’ll be OK and still love me if I can’t get up the nerve to speak out about my sterility to a doctor and try to fix it, then try to handle motherhood if they could make that happen. Even if a doctor could make my parts work OK at the snap of their fingers, we don’t have the proper sex for making babies. We couldn’t get me pregnant cuz my screwy schedule and his busyness prevent us from having sex more than once a week and that, combined with his age, pains, tiredness, and him being just the way he is, prevents us from cumming regularly. The way to impregnate a woman is to cum at least 5 days in a row, but that is not Tom S any more than it’s Tom S to sit and make prank phone calls. He is how he is, and I am how I am (not always so great in bed) and no doctor can fix/help us. So even if a million people cheered me on about these issues every day, what good would it do? I’m beyond help. My fate’s been sealed a long time ago as far as these issues go. I said that years ago and I’m still right about it and will always be. Nothing will change about that, but I still have such a hard time accepting my fatness. I know I will someday, and I know that when I do finally accept it, I’ll have a new problem that’s hopeless and that I cannot fix and that I’ll have to accept.

Later…

I have a lot to fill you in on now that my moods have stabilized back out to what they usually are, thank God.

First of all, Lisa tried calling again today. In the morning I’ll see if I can see what’s up. I hope to hell she didn’t cut herself again. I told Tom I didn’t feel I was competent enough to help her and he said I was doing all I could do and was doing an excellent job. Then why is she still cutting herself? God kept kids away from me for a reason and that’s cuz he knows I couldn’t deal with them. Thank God, though, and why oh why I ever thought I’d not only want to throw my life away on a kid, but have a Lisa living under our roof, beats the shit out of me. Tom says that in time, my words will sink into Lisa and that she’ll get better. I hope so!

Anyway, it’s one thing to know that something wanted me to quit smoking and that something does not want me to return to cigarettes, but then there’s really knowing! Yes, it was really drilled into this thick skull of mine the hard way. The other few times I tried smoking again, I just got a slight headache and a bit of nausea. Not this time! This time I got the headache and nausea, but I was also very dizzy too. So I ran into the bedroom and turned on the fan and blew it on myself to help clear my head. Then I went back out and smoked again, suddenly more determined to rebel against God and do all the things he’s forbidden me to do. What quickly changed my mind, though, was that the next time I had decided I could use some wind, he had broken my fan. Yup, the only loud fan we’ve got. He couldn’t just wait one more lousy year! Like what happened next wasn’t enough of a punishment and enough to drill it into my head that I must not smoke for reasons I don’t know if I’ll ever know?!

Anyway, I woke up at 120½. Not cuz this low fat/cal diet decided it’d work for once. Not cuz God decided to help me help myself lose weight. But because I ended up puking what I’d eaten early on in my day and was too queasy feeling for the rest of the day to have anything more than a few grapes, a few bites of spaghetti, and liquids. I know better, though. By the end of the day, I’ll be right back up to 124 and will stay that way for quite a while. I still have a virtually non-existent metabolism and while it’s a shame, it’s true that I either gotta get sick, or stop eating, in order to lose weight. I wish I could make myself bulimic, but I can’t. I can’t live on liquids either.

I know that something not only wants me not to smoke, but it wants me heavy, too. It’s important. It’s necessary for some reason I haven’t discovered yet, but I absolutely must never smoke again or lose weight, according to something up there. There is a reason why I was destined to quit smoking when I did, then get fat. I just hope this extra fat and nutrition it brings isn’t to help me survive a bad accident or illness, but there is a reason for it. I wish I knew what that reason was, though, and I guess I’ll be finding out one of these days.

To make matters worse, I had puked in the sink, figuring I could wash down the puke as it came out of my mouth so I wouldn’t have to see it and prolong my puking any more than necessary, but this asshole just clogged up the drain.

Tom came home for a while and later, he fixed the sink and bought a new fan. Unfortunately, they don’t make fans as loud as the older ones. I have two fairly quiet fans in the bedroom now and I’ll be sleeping with the music on in the daytime. I had stopped the music cuz Caddy kid thankfully dropped out of the picture, but according to Tom, he’s back and I didn’t hear him. He says he went by and went to check and saw it was him. Well, he must’ve just begun his cruising by 3 times a day again or wasn’t playing his music as loud as he usually does, cuz I don’t see how I could’ve not heard it over those two quiet fans and with the music, which I don’t play that loud. Only loud enough to hear its beat, but I guess it does do a good enough job of blending in with the beat of our city animal’s stereos. That was the idea after all.

Tom says that due to the fact that cigarettes are poison, it does make people puke, and that fan was very old. I’ve never heard of anyone puking from cigarettes. Why didn’t I puke when I first started smoking? And yes, that was an old fan, but it’s quite ironic that it breaks down when I do something that’s a no-no in God’s eyes. Cigarettes don’t make fans break or make people puke, something that doesn’t want a person smoking makes that fan break (something it knows is important to me) and makes that person puke. I never would’ve believed it and I’ll bet most others wouldn’t, too, if they heard that someone that quit smoking, can’t return to it no matter how hard they try. That’s not the way it works. Almost all smokers who quit for at least 2-4 weeks end up going back to smoking and they don’t puke. It’s me. It’s me again. Something doesn’t want me smoking and to top it off, it wants me fat, too, but why??? At first I thought about God doing this to me cuz he wants me to go to a doctor, and that I am fixable, and that he wants me fixed, and he wants me to have a kid now. (being a non-smoker would help ensure a healthier baby) And the reason why he wants me to go to a doctor and couldn’t have had one on my own all along is simply cuz he knew I was gonna be too stupid to do the right thing and prevent myself from conceiving back when I was a young, dumb, naïve 21-year-old. But he’d be forgetting something if this were the case. What about my inability to keep a schedule? What about the fact that I couldn’t handle a kid? Besides, that’s not what I want anymore. My idea of a good time is being with my husband, taking care of the animals, doing my hobbies, etc. Not playing Barbies with some smelly little kid or having a Lisa under our roof cutting herself.

Well, I know that his reasons have nothing to do with a kid, but what do they really have to do with? Why must I not smoke and stay fat? His decision to have me remain smoke-free isn’t the problem, it’s the fat that’s the problem. It’s got to be for more reasons than just mere compensation that’s got me so fat. Well, all I can do is just hope that his reasons are for the better and that it’s not cuz of something bad to come.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 24, 1998 I typed a letter to Larry and told him to tell Sandy that if some rude pervert asks to get in her pants, to tell him, “No thanks. There’s already one asshole in there.” This is based on one of the jokes I received from Kim.

Tom did email my folks and that was nice of him. My mom has this thing about signing off her messages as “the mother.” So Tom signed his name, then typed, “Or am I supposed to sign off as ‘the son-in-law’?” I got a kick out of that and I’m sure my folks did, too.

I got to thinking and wondering about something. No God, I’m not gonna go against you and ask for more trouble, but could this weight be lost in notches? By the way, first of all, my water has filled right back out on me like I knew it would and I’m sure I’m closer to 124 pounds now. Anyway, as I was saying, when I starved all those years ago for about 3 days, I began losing weight, then I kept on losing it, even though I had returned to eating whatever I wanted to whenever I wanted to. After going about 4 days on just a few bites a day a little while back, I went from constantly weighing 124-126 to constantly weighing 122-124. What if I did this again for 4 days? Would it put me to 120-122? Could I do this in stages? I’m sure I couldn’t, but it’s an interesting thought. Meanwhile, I’m fat to stay and I know it.

My dear best friend really is losing it. He’s jobless, he ain’t got Quinn’s dick to turn to, so he is really, really losing it. TV, music, phones and pot. That’s all he knows. Get this - he calls me up saying that on a one-hour show about violence against gays, I had a part in the show. He says one of my tapes was played. An old tape of us making prank calls and our edits from back in Springfield in 1989. I don’t think so! What? Did the pigs seize my tapes, send them to Hollywood and tell them to help themselves? And we didn’t call and bash gays, so maybe he’s talking about how when they’d hear a gay voice (his) they’d bash gays and that’s the tapes he’s talking about. But still, there’s no way in his delusional, doped-up mind, that any tapes of us making prank calls, or the edits, were used in a movie.

Later…

Yesterday I called Lisa to find out what was up. Well, she told me alright. She told me she cut herself. All I could say about it was the usual. She said she called Larry at work and told him. She said he said the ball was in her court and she should do what she needed to do. Sounds like he’s giving up on her, but I don’t know.

TUESDAY, JUNE 23, 1998 Tom’s gift surprised me. I really thought my folks would send him something along the lines of clothing and flags, but instead, he got a clock radio with a weather alert system.

My folks say they wish they could hear from him more often and he says he’s gonna email them tomorrow, but I don’t know. I think that’ll be just one more thing he says he’s gonna do but doesn’t. I told him that they’d love to hear from him about once a month or so, but we’ll see. It’s up to him.

And I’m still smaller. Amazing, huh? I haven’t broken down and weighed myself yet, though. I’m trying to stick to doing that once a week only. I’m sure I’m still between 122-124 anyway.

Sex was the usual problem it is. Once again, I got him rock hard with my hand, then when he went to go in there, he went soft. He now claims it’s due to back pain. Why doesn’t he just come out and tell me he’s not interested? Why say he wants more sex and why say he’s in the mood when he’s not?

Later…

Andy and I spoke and sure enough, he flirted it out at the job he just lost. He said all the customers, co-workers, and managers, were flirtatious too. I don’t doubt that knowing how human beings are, but once again, God is not an equal opportunity doer or sayer. Meaning that just cuz the general pop can do or say this or that doesn’t mean he can. Remember? Some of us are different. He’s got to stop doing this! When’s he gonna learn? No wonder he bitches that he can’t get ahead in life. He’s too stubborn. He’s too bent on doing the opposite of what people ask of him or of what he knows he should be doing. Maybe he likes this and maybe he wanted to get fired, I don’t know. It does no good telling Andy not to flirt at work or not to associate with druggies and losers if he can’t attract someone nice right now, and not to settle. The more you tell him this, the more he’ll go against your advice and he will flirt and he will settle on the Lauras of this world as pals and roommates and on the Quinns of this world too.

It’s sad to see him in such a rut and in the same boat all these years. Nothing’s really changed with him since I’ve known him. He is more tolerant of those needing to talk and doesn’t kick a person down further that is already down, he’s much more sensitive, but he’s still the same old as far as his life goes. I know what it’s like to be stuck in a rut, but he won’t even try to get ahead. I’m not saying that God’s not against him in some ways. Yes, I think he’s had a major play in keeping Andy held back, but Andy can change some things. Maybe he can’t get Mr. Right, but he can avoid the next Mr. Wrong (Quinn) and he can shut up at work. Let everyone else say whatever they’re gonna say, but shut up!

Andy, if you ever read these journals for some reason I can’t foresee, especially the stuff I’ve written over the last couple of years or so, you’re gonna hate me! Well, try not to. I still love you. It’s just that I’ve come to be a bit different over the years, as you yourself have said. I outgrew the phone and a lot of our old ways, although I’ll always have my crazy laugh and lots of funny memories to cherish! Leaving Nerve hanging on the line at the bitch was fun and the calls we made were fun while we made them. I don’t regret the past, buddy!

Tom picked up a new shower massager and aerator for the kitchen sink. They’re the best ones yet.

Unfortunately, I was not up when Lisa tried calling twice today. I called Tammy to ask if she called. When she said no, I said that I must’ve read the caller ID box wrong so that she wouldn’t go asking Lisa questions. I’ll try to call Lisa in the morning and hope that Tammy’s at work when I do, to see if I can find out what’s up. Tammy didn’t say anything, though.

My ma says she’s shipped some bedding out to us. I asked her why I never see her on my buddy list on AOL and if she had a block on it and she said she doesn’t know how to use it and maybe I could teach her. I told her I thought I could show her how, but to tell her how would be a different story, so I forwarded her message to Tom so that maybe he could help them.

Now here’s something that could be good news concerning El Cocko. El Cocko still hasn’t been around. I only saw its car once last Saturday. There’s been no music trouble, either. Once again, if they could stay the way they have been, then I’d love for them to remain my neighbors till we move.

El Cocko returned in a U-Haul, so why not go out in one? I thought about it and realized that this fuck must’ve moved out and it must’ve known it was gonna be gone for a while, or else why pack enough shit for a U-Haul? And also, if it were helping someone else move, wouldn’t it be back by now? And why was the driver that left with him driving a blue car and not the freeloader’s gray car?

How did I miss vibing it, though? Could the September vibe mean that’s when it’ll return? Well, if it does, I hope it’s after Labor Day, cuz if it is out of the picture for Labor Day, maybe there won’t be hell to listen to from over there that day. Just about all the outbursts that have taken place have taken place when he’s been there. The dog, the music, the ball games, the parties, have all been in his presence, so hopefully it’ll be gone for a long long time. I know it’ll come back at some point. That’s bound to be. The question is, though, will it be back in 1 month, 3 months, 6 months, or a year?

I also don’t think it went very far. It’ll probably pop in every 2-4 weekends to see the bitch.

After carefully monitoring my fat and calorie intake, and what with how I felt when I got up, I really thought that this was it; I had busted into the one teens for sure and was maybe 119½ at the very least, but nope. Again, how insulting! No God does not help those who help themselves, any more than he wants everyone to “be fruitful and multiply” as I hear the bible says.

I’m telling you - it’s either bend to God’s will or drive myself crazy! See, I know I’ll be 122-124 pounds indefinitely, it’s just that I’m having a hard time accepting it. I’ve been down this road before, though, and have had to accept plenty of other things, so I’ll accept this too, in time.

The thing of it is, though, is that if I ever got thin again, he’d do something else. There’d just be a new problem to deal with for quite a while, so maybe I’m better off fat. Especially if the replacement would be worse. When it comes to my life, compensation is what it’s all about. He won’t give me anything without taking something from me. He gave me the strength to not smoke. Therefore, he took my thinness away.

I think that it was a psychological delusion. Due to how I’ve been eating, I tricked myself into thinking that maybe things had changed for once, but I’m still the same big-bellied, fat-faced thing I’ve been for months now. My legs are the size my waist should be and my waist is what my hips should be.

MONDAY, JUNE 22, 1998 Been up since 3 PM and the Caddy just slammed in. Just one not-too-loud slam. I still don’t know if El Cocko’s returned. I’m waiting to hear from Tom when he gets up. I think I know who is driving the Caddy, though. I think it’s her brother who’s about 19 years old and I think he’s a major drug runner too.

A package for Tom just came. It’s mom and dad’s birthday present to him.

Later…

Caddy’s gone. I didn’t know it till I just checked. It seems to go quieter than it comes.

I called Tammy’s to see how the state investigation was going and Lisa answered. Tammy was at her therapist’s, but Lisa told me what I knew would be the case - case closed.

She’s bummed that she’s not gonna be living with Larry but understands it’s just not gonna happen. It depresses her that she can’t talk to him or my folks, and she asked if I’d pass a message along to them. So in my email to Mom and Dad, I told them that Lisa sends her love, but they didn’t hear that from me. They heard it from a little birdie, a psychic palm reader, but not from me. I’ll tell Larry the same thing when I do a letter to him.

Anyway, I told her that she’s 15 and not 5, so in just a few measly years, she can talk to whomever she wants to.

Andy’s been fired yet again. Good, God! And I had a vibe about it, too, when I saw that he was calling when he was supposed to be at work. He said the day manager had told him he was doing a great job, but then the night manager said, “Nope. You’re outa here.” And he had been making good money, too, finally. Unless Andy went on with the flirtatious attitude again, he really is cursed with jobs and sex. For me, it’s sex and doing what I want to do in life, but lately, life’s been good for me.

Is God trying to tell Andy something? Something like maybe it's time to get out of the restaurant business for a change? Go back east? We haven’t had a chance to discuss it yet cuz Michelle had popped over, but I’ll write about it after I talk to him.

Andy may not have a life, but I do and my life consists of more than phones so hopefully it won’t be an all-night thing and he won’t keep me tied up too long. I had chewed him out for the last time about the non-emergency weekend calls (which would’ve done me no good), but due to the fact that he’s jobless again and gonna need support, I told him to call anytime any day. But since Andy’s naturally one to sway against what others want, maybe he won’t call so much on weekends now that I said that.

Still eating a low-calorie, low-fat diet. I even swapped in the regular sugar that I use in my coffee, for Sweet-n-Low. Still smaller today, too, but I refuse to think it means anything cuz I’m sure it doesn’t. I’m sure I’ll fill out again. As long as I stay under 125. That’s what’s most important to me now. When I’m at 125 or higher, rocking becomes very uncomfortable.

SUNDAY, JUNE 21, 1998 At dusk, I was out swimming. The pool and weather were gorgeous. I love the temp at 82º in the shade. I was surprised the guard dogs didn’t spoil the peace. And no more ball games since the 4 came to play two evenings ago. It sure did sound like a distant kennel and daycare out there, though. I could hear lots of barking dogs a few blocks away and lots of screaming kids. Fortunately, it’s not next door! If it were, it’d be nothing but bark, bark, bark right now. The July dog vibe has eased up a bit, so that’s good.

Now, is the freeloader boy back? I’m just not sure. There hasn’t been enough door slamming to say that he is, but Tom will let me know if he sees its car when he comes in early in the morning. I’m still surprised I didn’t sense it leave and that it’s not back yet if it’s not back yet for sure. I did hear something earlier, but couldn’t quite tell where it was coming from. The freeloader isn’t always as obvious as he usually is when it comes to door slams.

I called Dad to wish him a happy Father’s Day. We didn’t talk long. Ma was out playing bingo.

Andy’s his usual selfish self who can’t even respect a friend’s wishes. Had to leave a message this weekend.

Kim sent me more jokes I’m gonna go check out.

It’s “small-time” again for me. Yeah, for a whole 5 hours. Then I’ll be all bloated and watery again till my next period. Yeah, I finally managed to pull off a good enough flow. I knew I would, though, eventually. I’ll just enjoy the fact that I’m the smallest I’ve been in a while it lasts, cuz it’s only a matter of time before this fat-faced, big-bellied woman goes right back to how she has been for how many months now? Has it been 5 months now since I’ve been weighing between 122-124?

My oh, so horny husband never touched me all weekend. Fine. I don’t want the problems it entails, and I can take of myself. I’m a big girl. He’s talking about tomorrow, though. I don’t think so. I love my husband, but not sexually. I hate him in bed. Unless he just goes down on me forever, I hate the bed charades.

Other than that, we swam together and got some things done around the house.

I could write more now, but I’d rather go check out my library book some more, but I’ll leave the computer fired up in case I do return to write more later.

SATURDAY, JUNE 20, 1998 Today we dismantled the old bunny hutch. It didn’t take long by using a pry bar and an electric screwdriver to pull the screws and nails out, but it would’ve taken quite a while had we not used these tools.

In Ma’s email, she recommended some authors to me, so I’ll check them out the next time we go to the library.

No freeloader shit today and since I haven’t heard any car doors, which would be highly unusual if the cock were there, I’d say the cock isn’t there. It’s too quiet for it to be there.

Those 4 kids only played for 20 minutes yesterday so that was OK.

Later…

And here it is! I knew it’d be back and I knew that when it did come back, it’d return on a weekend. Yeah, I saw its car out front for sure. It took off, though, and I’m listening for when it returns. I’m sure I couldn’t miss those door slams even if I wanted to, though. There’s been no music yet, and no ball games today, but I can kiss the peace from the door slamming goodbye. I’d like to say that yes, it moved out with the U-Haul, whether or not it was because it was caught being here when it’s not supposed to be here, and it just popped in to either see the bitch or to get something it forgot, but nope. I’m sure it’s here full-time again and that it just went out for an hour or two and will be back any sec.

FRIDAY, JUNE 19, 1998 Here we go again with the wacky periods. Had a few spots on the 17th (period was due on the 16th) but since then - nothing.

The latest scenario at Tammy’s - they’ve been there investigating (the state) and will be back Monday. Why do they even bother to have these state people when they do nothing but look around and talk? They don’t take kids out of households they shouldn’t be in. Hell, if Tammy smacked all the kids in front of the state, they still wouldn’t take the kids away. Even Tammy admits she’s not worried.

It’s really weird with Tom cuz at first he was against Larry and meeting with him a few years ago, but now he defends him. He brought up a good question, though - how does Tammy know that it was Larry who called the state? I asked her this just now and she said that he called Bill at work and asked him to sign over custody of Lisa to him. Bill, naturally, told him to get lost. Not cuz he loves Lisa, cuz you don’t love someone you beat, as far as I’m concerned, but cuz he doesn’t like Larry any more than Larry likes him.

This is the second time I called Larry at work since he told me he’d get back to me and his secretary told me he’s tied up. I get the feeling he’s avoiding me which is fine but I told her to tell him that if I can discreetly help in any way, let me know. I know what he’s doing. I’m on his side, etc.

Saw Gloria live on TV and she didn’t look huge, but she really is aging. You could really see it in her cheeks what with the way they’re starting to droop.

Later…

Just printed out January to June’s shit for the freeloaders. I know June’s not over, but close enough.

I thought I heard music a while ago, but I couldn’t tell for sure what it was or where it was coming from. Tom says he still hasn’t seen the freeloader and its car since it left in the U-Haul. Amazing, huh?!

Got the Nicolette Larson CD a couple of days ago and The Dream Academy CD today, so I’m gonna go listen to that till the sun’s just about set and it’s time for my last swim of the day.

Later…

It’s still not quite dark enough for my swim yet. Thank God it’s 7:30 and not 5:30 cuz there are 4 kids at the basketball hoop now. The Lopez girl and 3 white boys. I’ve seen these boys before too and am pretty sure they’re part of the Lopez clan too. Or that some of them are.

Larry did call me and he said he didn’t want to get into the situation with Lisa and Tammy which is understandable, but otherwise, he sounded good. He even joked saying that it was 40º and that they were expecting snow so I could give him my laugh. He’s been really busy but hasn’t forgotten about me.

Kim sent me some more jokes that I didn’t think were very funny. It’s still nice to have the jokes sent to me.

Marla emailed me for the first time in a while (this time I didn’t delete it) and she basically said the same thing I said. Andy says he understands our point of view, though, and that she and I share the same feelings.

Andy never acknowledged it was our anniversary. Never called to wish us a happy anniversary or to ask us what we did that day. Deep down, I figured it was cuz he was jealous, but I asked him if he was upset with me to see what he’d say. He said he wasn’t upset with me. Just that he’d been in his own little world recently. True. It’s gonna be a while before he’s over Quinn.

We went to the library yesterday. I got 3 Dean Koontz books and one by some guy that I’ve never heard of before.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 17, 1998 My period’s finally starting. I should have a full flow tomorrow, but I don’t know if I will. My next period will be due on Linda Ronstadt’s birthday.

Last night my sister called me high on painkillers and it was hilarious. She went back and forth between laughing and telling me the details of her sex life with Mark, to being pissed about Mom and Dad. She says she has to have knee surgery, has a bum ankle, and something else, too. Yeah, that’s Tammy for ya!

Then she went on to say that Boo and Max visit twice a year and call periodically. How nice of them to visit her twice a year, but when I lived just 10 minutes away, they never visited me. Meanwhile, she’s over an hour away. They never call me, either, but I know what it all boils down to. That crazy daughter of Dureen’s. They’d give me money if I went to their home or asked for it and for that I’m very grateful, but they don’t come to me on their own by visiting or by phone calls. Well, I certainly wouldn’t want them to do anything they didn’t feel comfortable doing and I told my folks this.

In Dad’s email reply to me, he said he thought I was acting "out of line" by what I had to say about them, saying they have given to me, and they always ask about me. Oh, I know that. I was just simply making an observation. Then he said that they went to see the kids while they went to Foxwood Casino which was right next door to Tammy’s. They went to see the kids? Now why would they do that? What’s in visiting the kids for them? Of course, I wasn’t stupid when he tried to tell me it was the kids they really went to see. Like they would’ve come to visit my kids if I had had any back there if it was next door to someplace they went, yeah right! I could be married with kids back in my old apartment on Woodside Terrace and they could be coming to see somebody on the floor below me, but that doesn’t mean they’d ever stop up one more flight to see me or my kids.

I accidentally deleted the email I got yesterday from Marla. I could’ve kicked myself for it and I hope she emails me again.

The freeloader isn’t back yet.

I’m utterly amazed at how quiet it’s been lately as far as stereos go. For a time, you’d hear several of them cruise by a day, but lately, I haven’t heard any. I shouldn’t say that, though, cuz now I will!

Oh also, my parents didn’t call Becky on her birthday. They did send her something, cuz Becky called to thank them. Then Tammy said something about how Becky was gonna hand the phone to her, but Mom said she didn’t want to talk to her, so Dad took the phone. Tammy had taken the phone by then and told Dad she didn’t want to talk to either one of them.

Last night Tammy tried to use me to get Mom and Dad’s sympathy (doesn’t she realize it won’t work)?! By asking me to call them to tell them I’m concerned about her having to have knee surgery. No, I wasn’t mad or anything. I’m used to her ways and it was harmless. Tammy will always be Tammy, I guess.

Tom picked up a bunch of shit that’s been lying around the back room for ages. I know it won’t be neat for long, so I’ll enjoy it while I can. Anyway, he did it so I could vacuum. I want to continue not having allergies and lung trouble.

In case I didn’t already mention it, we got Blackie some stuff for worms. It’s these capsules you break open and sprinkle in their food.

Later…

Well, my brother called the state on my sister today. Yes, Tammy called me to tell me that Lisa called Larry all upset that she can’t work at the convenience store, then Larry called the state. Lisa didn’t know Larry was gonna do what he did and according to Tammy, Lisa’s feeling guilty about it.

Later…

I got caught up doing other stuff, so I didn’t finish what I was saying about Larry, Tammy, and Lisa.

First, though, I haven’t heard a peep coming from next door. Not even car doors of the bitch’s rides in the last two days.

Anyway, Tammy called me wanting advice. I was surprised she’d ask for my advice seeing that I don’t have kids and can’t relate to what she’s going through. Also, I thought she was wary of trusting anyone. Well, she needed to talk to someone, so I listened to her. Her two biggest gripes are Lisa’s rebelliousness and mom, dad, and Larry’s having the nerve to judge her parenting and all that.

I wish the state could place the kids somewhere else. Somewhere where they’d be with someone who could handle them better but calling the state doesn’t do shit. All they do is come out and talk with the parent or parents, but that’s it. It’s nearly impossible to get a kid taken away from its mother. Murderers get custody of them all the time.

Later…

Well, someone is next door. I could see the sprinkler on over there.

Something just hit me - Tammy said Larry had a guy from the state call her where she works. Then she met the guy at her house. How did Larry know where she works? She works with Mark, and I guess Lisa gave Larry the address. Or maybe the guy called the house and Lisa answered and she was the one who had the guy call her at work.

Still getting regular emails from my folks. Ma’s better, but still needs to get her strength back. Dad says they’re proud of me for quitting smoking and happy, happy, happy anniversary!

TUESDAY, JUNE 16, 1998 Yesterday was a fun day, but let me get our city moochers out of the way first. They’re getting their lawn mowed now by those people in the blue pickup. If the bitch is paying for this herself, no wonder her rent’s late. Not to mention the fact that most of the money she gets, no doubt, is going up her nose. This truck doesn’t have any city emblem on it and my guess is that yes, the bitch, cock, or someone associated with them, is paying for this. I’m sure the city would say, “Hey, we give you a house for practically free so you maintain its lawn.”

Tom said that they have skipped weeks of putting out their recycle bin, so it’s nothing new.

Yesterday evening, that dark blue car was there for a while. The one that left with the cock in the U-Haul. If the cock’s back yet, I don’t know, but I guess seeing that car was a sign saying it’s well on its way back if it isn’t back yet.

They’re done now. At least they work fast and park on the street.

Later…

Damn! I shit 3 times today, so you know what that means - no shitting for a day or two now. I thought walking was supposed to up your metabolism; not stop it. Something’s stopped it again, cuz I went to bed at 123 pounds, got up at 123 pounds, shit 3 times, and still weighed 123 pounds. What’s keeping all this weight on me and where’s my period that’s due?! God, you really want me to pay for better lungs, huh?

Anyway, yesterday we went out to a paper store where we spent nearly $100. I got 4 single sheets of stationery. One was a light purple that darkened down towards the other end of the sheet which Tammy got. Since I owed Becky and Sarah letters, Becky got a purple flower design and Sarah got a pink and yellow flower design. Larry got a wooden wall with rope on a nail and cowboy boots on the ground.

We picked up some wire binding combs and 5 different colors of paper. Got two different shades of pink, two different shades of purple, and bright lime green. The green and purples are thicker sheets of paper than the pinks.

I printed out my first journal using the grape paper. I used black text and a plain font, and purple text for the cover. I put the wrong zip code on the address, though. We have black and white wires. I used the white for this cuz the blacks we have are too big for the binder.

Then we went to Red Lobster and it was closed. So we drove out to where Melanie works and found one in that area. The lobster, which seemed smaller than the last one I had, was good. It was the company nearby that wasn’t. We were seated in between tables with kids. One had a boy and a girl of about 8 years of age. The other had a boy of about 3, its mother, and what was probably its grandmother, too. The 8-year-olds weren’t bad and they left shortly after we were seated, but the little boy, on the other hand, was what your average child is all about today. No manners, no discipline, no respect, no nothing. It threw a piece of food on the table. My back was facing them, so I didn’t see it, but Tom did and said, “Hey, that’s not nice.” Then Granny apologized for the kid. Then I muttered something about them watching and controlling their kid and teaching it to behave in public. Granny said it agreed with me, then Mommy went on and on about how we shouldn’t have said this and that, and something else I can’t remember. All I know was that I had had it and I stood up and yelled something. Mommy told me to sit down, in her southern drawl, or else she’d call the law on me. I told her to call them, saw how terrified she and the others looked, saw that she really didn’t want to fight and that she was someone I believed I could badly hurt (she was close to my height, but very motherly in weight and weighed 20-50 more pounds than me) so although I sat down, I was so fucking close to mauling her. I wanted soooooo bad to dog her. I was so pissed that my heart was thumping and I was shaking. Tom asked if I wanted to move to another table. I said loud enough for Mommy to hear, “No, I want to break its neck.” So after a few more gripes and “No one tells me to hush” from mommy, and with granny telling her to drop it, I did too, since she didn’t threaten me (or else I’d have dogged her without caring about the consequences or that the boy saw me do it). After the fact, though, it was pretty funny and I still joke about it to Tom and giggle to myself when I remember how terrified she was of me when I stood up. And maybe the boy’s learned a little lesson and mommy and granny will remember this and learn from it too.

That’s the closest I’ve been in years to a fight. Even closer than when that bitch came to this door. That bitch would be dead if it came to the door again, and I think it knew it and left while it was ahead and didn’t want to push its luck. Like I said, my days of kissing up to or turning my cheek the other way from the Rosemaries, Scotts, Mary Ds, Staceys, project assholes, neighbors, etc., are long gone. If you swing at me or if you threaten me bodily harm - you’re dead. Period. And if you don’t want to be, you better be a better fighter than me and knock me on my ass, cuz if you don’t knock me off my feet and keep me off my feet, you’re history! I won’t hesitate to severely maim or kill the next butch, bitch, Barbara, Bonnie, or anyone, male or female, that fucks with me.

I don’t know how I know this, but I do. I just know that no matter what my size/weight, if I ever get into another fight again, and I guess it’s bound to be sooner or later, I’m gonna do some serious damage. I’m going to cripple that person or kill them without even being able to help myself. After all those people I decided to get out of fighting with, and that I let cower me down from, that’s a lot of lost fighting to make up for.

Later…

White Paws was in the house today and fortunately, mama bitch hasn’t been around hardly at all. White Paws is still not as brave and as friendly as Blackie, but if I keep being nice, I’m sure she will be too. It’s nice to be able to feed them inside the house (not that we could keep Blackie from darting in and out when we open the door, anyway) so that ants don’t get the food and so mama bitch doesn’t come back.

That’s the second hang-up I just got that says unavailable on our Caller ID box. For the thousandth time, it’s someone we know. I just know it is. I’d say that Fran wouldn’t have the brains to be this consistent and that he’d have spoken up a long time ago, so my guess is that it’s Wendy or Jenny C. Probably Jenny. Hell, it could be Larry for all I know, making up for all the times I bugged Jenny. Maybe he’s calling from his business and knows that no info will show up on a Caller ID box.

Anyway, we went swimming yesterday and the water was too warm, so we didn’t recover the pool yesterday. Today it’s cooled down to a pleasant and refreshing temp. I wonder - can we for once and for all leave our pool uncovered till September?

Buying that colored paper got me in a creative mood yesterday, so I scanned several different sheets of colored paper that overlapped each other, to make colored striped paper. I also scanned in a journal cover and printed that out, too. I folded it in half to make it card-like.

Got a couple of phone messages from Andy reading me those favorite notes, and then a couple of happy anniversary emails from Kim.

I called Lisa to see what was up with her, and she is one stressed-out, depressed, frustrated, angry girl! I feel so bad for her. Tammy’s being typical Tammy. The way she’d be towards me when Mom and Dad weren’t around. Yelling, screaming, and using me as a slave and personal housekeeper. Now Tammy’s using her as a built-in housekeeper and babysitter, all the while screaming at Lisa and making her feel like nothing she does is ever good enough. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear Tammy’s name was really Bill or Dureen. She spends most of her time with Mark.

Lisa says she doesn’t mind helping out, she wants her mother to be happy and be with Mark, but she doesn’t want all the housework and babysitting dumped on her. She wants her mother around more. She wants to be a teenager and get out and do things. Not be a slave to a house and kids. It’s not her time yet for that. When and if she has kids, then she can be tied down. She should be living now.

Lisa wanted to get a job at a convenience store to show she can be responsible, but Tammy won’t let her work there cuz she needs Lisa at the house to work for her.

She knows not to tell her therapist that I said this or that, cuz that could get back to Tammy, but I suggested she tell her therapist and Tammy together, exactly what’s going on and exactly how she feels, cuz she has the legal right to file a complaint of neglect on Tammy. It may not do her any good, but she should at least do everything she can to speak out.

She then thanked me wholeheartedly for being there for her and said she was gonna call her therapist.

Later…

I was just sitting here realizing I’m late for my period, haven’t one symptom of PMS, my tits are only slightly sore, then it hit me. It’s time. It’s time for something wacky to occur with my plumbing. Remember two summers ago? That’s when I had that two-week spotting attack, and when that happened, I had the feeling that another screwy event would occur two years later. I wish I could say that it’s now in the cards for me to have a hysterectomy and that’s what this is leading up to, but I don’t know.

I spoke to Jen earlier. God, she and Lisa sound so different! Jen sounded like this perky, happy-go-lucky kid, while Lisa sounded so miserable. Jen’s now 5’ 6” at 105 pounds. God! Now it’s the other way around. I’m shorter, she’s skinnier. She’s working at a restaurant and babysitting. Sandy and Larry were at work. Larry’s been busy, she says, with out-of-state businesspeople. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t called. I left a message with his secretary for him to call when he can, nothing important, just wanted to say hi. From here on out, he either calls or he doesn’t.

Jen says she and a friend of hers who lives on her street, is going to Florida to stay at my folk’s place. Are my folks physically and mentally up to having two teenagers stay with them? Can they handle it?

Later…

I went for a quick dip in the pool, then I was gonna do some walking till I said, fuck it. I’m 32, I don’t smoke, fat is me and me is fat. I’m not gonna spend my life fighting for a body that can never be again, regardless of whether it’s a curse from God, or something’s wrong, or just cuz I am middle-aged and not taking any drugs that up the heart rate. I will watch what I eat, but I’m not gonna live hopelessly doing this or that to achieve something I could never achieve.

Later…

Oh, that fucking husband of mine! You know, I really hate it when he insults me with the sex games and denies what really is the case here. The last time we screwed, he wasn’t in the mood. Yet he’s trying to pin the blame on me by saying I got impatient and sidetracked and all this bullshit that never happened. Why is it always my fault he can’t perform sexually? No wonder I desire him sexually less and less and just prefer to take care of myself more and more. I love him in every other way, but I’ve had close to half a decade of this sex shit and I’m sick of it so if God insists I be cursed sexually, it won’t work, cuz I’m not gonna give in like I used to. I don’t deserve this shit.

MONDAY, JUNE 15, 1998 And today we've been married 4 wonderful years! I'll be getting Tom up at noon, then an hour later we'll have lunch at Red Lobster. We'll be going when the lunch crowd should die down.

I tried making CDs the new way that Tom set up and it's pretty much the same old hit or miss, but mostly miss. I got one CD and killed two.

No one put out the recycle bin. I've never known them to miss a week of not putting it out.

There was an APS truck over there earlier and Tom said there was no car next door when he left for work yesterday evening and none when he got off at 6 AM, either. Really?! Then I wonder what that was I heard yesterday. Must've been a Lopez car engine and something else shutting (that I thought was a car door).

SUNDAY, JUNE 14, 1998 I totally, totally give up on telling Andy not to call me on weekends. It just doesn’t work, and I could kick myself for asking him to come over sober. I’m really in for it now! He’s gonna be so plastered when he comes over from now on. It makes me question our friendship. If he were a true friend, wouldn’t he respect my wishes?

Later…

Tom and I went swimming. Got several things done this weekend, too. He mowed and picked up some stuff we needed. I did laundry and some cooking.

Now that we have the “bee whackers” not many bees come around.

I began feeding White Paws again. I kind of felt sorry for her.

I made an anniversary card for Tom and did up his birthday card, too.

Tomorrow, we’ll be going to Red Lobster.

We got a card from his mom too, with a $25 check.

I called and spoke to Tammy today. New England’s been getting lots of rain. Boston declared a state of emergency over it. They were supposed to get something like 30”!

I guess she’s still in touch with Mark, cuz she’s in business with him. She’s been working with him at his sharpening business since January.

I know it has to be up to me to decide whether or not I want to give Jenny Craig a shot, but I asked for her opinion on it, anyway. She thinks it’s a waste of money and that you can do what she does at home by yourself. I tried that and got pretty much nowhere. So maybe I either need the help of Jenny Craig, something is wrong, or God just doesn’t want me to be thin again. I think I know which one it is. I’ve known it for 8 months now. Why am I so stubborn? Why don’t I just give up?! I’ve got to accept things as they are and live life. Enjoy what I do have and how things are.

Tom says Tammy has a point. You can do it at home, but if you’ve tried that and had no luck, it wouldn’t hurt to try Jenny Craig. We’ll see.

And as far as what I am or am not gonna say to any doctor about my sterility - we’ll see. Rather than decide whether I will or won’t say certain things, we’ll see. I’ll see what I feel like saying when the time comes.

Later…

Tom told me that some people put their journals on the web. I’m gonna check that out some time, but no, I don’t want to put my journals out. I can’t see who’d want to read them, but I’d rather a stranger read them than someone I know, cuz then I’d be embarrassed if someone I knew read them. Anyway, I just think it’d be interesting to see what I could find.

Tom showed me how to back up my stuff on a CD. I still have my journals, drawings, and things like that backed up on floppy disks, cuz it’s always good to have more than one backup copy. It’s amazing how much stuff a CD can store! All my journals, plus everything else that’s on the computer.

Tom’s getting ready to watch the basketball finals and thank fucking God that cock isn’t in the picture. Thank God for me. Thank God for them. If that cock were there, which I’m amazed hasn’t come back yet, it’d be rocking over there from one PM till at least 10 PM like it was June of 96. They’d barbecue, play ball, scream and shout, and of course, bass in and out like hell. God spared me from June of 97, too, cuz the cock didn’t come back into the picture till late June last year and the finals are in late May to early June.

Thank you, God, cuz I don’t know how I’d ever have been able to deal with it without going over there and beating the snot out of them!

I just can’t believe it’s not back yet! It’ll be back though, sooner or later.

Boy, were we bad yesterday. Our illiterate mailman gave us 3 pieces of mail that were the bitch’s. Later, he tried to get it back out of the mail slot when he realized he fucked up, but we’d already gotten it by then. (if he put a note on the bitch’s door explaining how he screwed up and how we got some of her mail, she’d be like - well, there’s no getting it back now! Ha, ha!

There was something from AT&T and Sprint long-distance phone companies. I got her number again too, cuz I like to have information. Although, this bitch doesn’t accept blocked calls.

In the third envelope was a 14-day notice to pay up on late rent from the city. This bitch’s rent is $181. It gets to pay just $181 for a remodeled, 3-bedroom, 1½-bath house, that little fuck! Well, little fuck ain’t got no pool, though.

Anyway, I stored her number, her account number that was with the late rent notice, and the address listed as the return address for this letter, on the computer. I don’t know if I’ll ever use this information or not (that’s up to them), but it’s nice to have.

Later…

It’s back. I heard a few bangs, which were amazingly not too loud, went out back, heard the car engine, then a door shut again. Yeah, I knew you would be back, you piece of shit. I was just a day or two off with my prediction. It was only for a few days. No wonder I didn’t sense it. It’s gonna fucking be slamming doors all fucking day and night as it unloads its stuff. Fuck!

SATURDAY, JUNE 13, 1998 Well, it’s that time again, folks. The weekend. Will our little freeloaders be good? Is a certain little punk with a gray car back yet? Time will tell.

Once again, if I were smart, I’d keep my mouth shut about any testing when I went to the doctor. It won’t get me anywhere. It’ll just cause more trouble and Tom won’t cooperate and do his part. I know he won’t. I know he’s full of shit about wanting a kid, too, or else knowing I was sterile, he’d have done something about it a long time ago. He’d want us to go to a doctor, he’d want me to get tested to see what could be done, he’d want to get tested himself, he’d want to mention how he doesn’t cum much. But he doesn’t do any of these things. Why? Cuz he doesn’t really want to deal with testing and personal issues, and he doesn’t want a kid. Well, I guess that makes two of us cuz I don’t see how I’ll have the guts to bring it up. It’d just be asking for trouble from God and from Tom and they’d manipulate me out of getting the answers I seek. Tom suggested that instead of lying and saying we use rubbers, when they ask if I take birth control, to just say it’s OK whether or not I get pregnant and say no to testing for now. Yeah, I know Tom likes to put off and put off. Especially when it comes to the things he doesn’t really want or want to deal with, but that would be lying too. No, it’s not OK if I get pregnant. I no longer want a child. People change. People move on. The point is the sex and kid issue has never gotten me anywhere but frustrated and even downright pissed. The only way to deal with it is to turn my cheek against it.

Neither of us could’ve complied with what they’d have requested of us to do as far as the tests go. He’d be ordered to squirt in a cup for them. He wouldn’t. They’d want me to take my temperature and to have sex several days in a row at certain times. Now what good would that have done me with a husband who’s too busy and too tired for sex and who wouldn’t have cum if we could get together more often and at scheduled times? He says sex has to be spontaneous for him. It can’t be made into a job or chore for him. Well, spontaneous sex never set his Willie straight before, so scheduled sex sure wouldn’t do it.

My condition also is not fixable. So why should I fight to get answers to problems I couldn’t solve and wouldn’t want to solve anyway? I’m not that curious about it.

Same for my weight. That was really sweet of Tom to offer me a shot at going through the Jenny Craig program, but for what? So I can be labeled a control freak? So I can keep on not accepting myself and liking myself as I am? So I can go against God, and win or lose, be made to pay for it. He’d just go and do something else to me if I ever got thin again. So why eat bland food with no fats or sugars for the rest of my life?

I need to like and accept myself as I am and live for the things that are realistic. You can live putting your energy into things that can’t be, or you can live for reality and do things that are meant to be and that are possible. Things we can handle and that are within our control.

When I was last talking with Andy, who’s no doubt waiting for the weekend to fully set in before calling me to let me know which of the notes were the funniest, I told him it’d be nice if he’d visit me sober when he’s more alert and receptive. What a stupid thing to do. Andy’s an opposite-doer. He rebels and now he’s gonna really make it a point to come over baked out of his mind. He’ll be a giggling ditz who won’t get or remember one thing I say.

Got an anniversary card from my folks yesterday with $50 bucks of cash enclosed.

Tom, who ordered me 3 CDs so far for our wedding, brought up an interesting possibility. What if Michelle is Andy’s true soul mate and neither of them knows it? Maybe they’re destined for each other, not him for a guy and her for a gal. Tom says he’s heard of couples where a gay guy has a female roommate (maybe she’s gay too and maybe not) and after 10-15 years of neither of them finding anyone, they end up married. Or at least they end up together in some shape or form. I wonder if that’ll happen with Andy and Michelle, but who knows if they’ll ever be roommates again?

It’s just 5:00 in the morning now and here goes Tweety! Wonder if the trailer people who are here enjoy listening to him?

Later…

Well, another one of those goofy sex sessions, but I wouldn’t give in as he might’ve hoped and expected. I mean, give in by getting all mad or frustrated. I expect him to shrivel up here and there. It was another one of those cases where he was rock hard, then when he went in there, he went soft. He tried to say he didn’t even get in there, but he did. He was just in there for a few seconds, though, before deflating. I then tried to pump him up again, but couldn’t get him in the mood and hard enough to reenter, so I suggested he just go down on me, and we’ll try to screw again later (although I’m sure he’ll forget it and I hope so too!) As usual, he was never happier to oblige, and he even cracked some jokes along the way down there. He tried to joke and say that I should tell him if I’m not in the mood to screw. Uh-huh.

I better hope and pray that I’m wrong about that freeloader returning yesterday or today, cuz if it’s there tomorrow afternoon, it’s gonna make a total ass of itself for me over the fucking basketball finals. There’s a big game Tuesday night, too, Tom says. The freeloaders better hope and pray that for their sakes, they don’t act up, cuz if they act up, so do I.

Got a letter from Lisa.

FRIDAY, JUNE 12, 1998 Oh, this fucking cat! I mean, I love him, yet I hate him. After he eats, all he does is whine if I don’t pat him. I can’t spend much time patting him cuz of my allergies, which are back to being a nightmare. But then when I shoo him out, he doesn’t want to go and I have to scream and chase him out.

I swear my whole upper respiratory system, as well as my lungs, are forever cursed. I haven’t had asthma attack #4 yet, but these constant sneezing fits are driving me nuts! Today, I’m gonna wear nose clips all day. Yesterday I was so sick, that I had to take a couple of Benadryl, which knocked me out. Therefore, I couldn’t be up when Tom got home so we could order CDs together. I slept so long and was so out of it that I didn’t even see him before work. I woke up 15 minutes after he left. He said he ordered 3 CDs, though, and they’ll be here in 4-5 days.

I just have to tell myself that this is how it must be as long as I don’t smoke. If I’m not gonna have as much lung trouble, it’s got to be made up for in the nose. God’s just not gonna leave me alone. Just like I have to tell myself every day that I’ll never be thin again. I’ll never lose this weight no matter what my diet or exercise routine consists of. All I can do is try not to gain anymore and hope I don’t.

Just talked to Andy. He loved all the notes and says he’ll leave me a message later about the notes he thought were the funniest. He’s still his usual self. He’s working still, but he spends all his time stoned and on the phone. Where would this guy be without phones and pot?!

Later…

A cream-colored medium size car just came and got the bitch. Who are all these people giving rides to this bitch? God! Wish I could’ve gotten so many people to cart me around before I was with Tom.

Later…

I left Kim a message asking her to email Alex and have him email her about why he’s shut me out, then forward his response to me. However, she can’t email him, either. Like I do, he has blocks on to keep junk mail out, so her message got returned to her.

People fall in and out of our lives and by the time most of us are my age, you’re more than used to it, but I was a little curious to know if he’d give me an explanation. Like most people, he didn’t have the guts to tell me why he shut me out, but it’s got to do with something he read in those journal excerpts I sent him. But what? I know I said a lot of weird, stupid, and naïve things, but what could upset him that much? I don’t remember writing anything mean about him.

How weird. I just checked both the Woodside file and the Elm file and there’s not one mention of meeting Alex. Well, I was a vague and shitty writer back then after all. Especially since I never even mentioned how Maliheh kissed me when I left the bar that night back in Northampton 7 years ago. I never would leave that detail out in this day and age if I were meeting that sick twist now.

I prayed one last time to God as far as my weight goes, although I’m sure all my pleading won’t get me anywhere. I know deep down that this is how I’m meant to be. I’m fat, have been for a while now, and always will be. I just know it deep in my gut and heart. No, God does not help those who help themselves. And once I see that this walking won’t help any more than the exercising did, I’ll hang it up and accept my bigness. I’m through fighting for things I’m not meant to have.

This questioning why I’m sterile at the doctor’s next month has me a bit nervous. I know God. I know how he operates with me. If I go meddling in areas that are a no-no per his orders, and that isn’t meant to be, he could hurt me, he could hurt Tom or both of us. But would he for just a little information? I can see him retaliating and punishing me for trying to change myself, but what about just getting a little info as to why I am the way I am? Don’t I have a right to at least know about my body? Or is that a sin, too?

I called and talked to my mom who could barely talk. Through fits of coughing, she managed to tell me she has a bronchial infection and that her computer mouse died. I teased her by letting her know she could have a live, furry one.

Dad wasn’t home, so we didn’t talk.

THURSDAY, JUNE 11, 1998 Just thought I’d update while I was sneezing, as usual.

A blue pickup was parked on the street in front of the freeloaders yesterday. There was no writing on the truck, so I don’t know if it was a city truck or what. Then, a couple of white guys got out. One looked like he had a lawnmower in tow, the other an edger. However, I never heard any mowing from over there, and they weren’t here long.

I asked Tom earlier where the cock’s car was if he was helping someone move out of state. His answer made perfect sense. Since the bitch has subsidized housing and since loverboy’s not supposed to be there, he parked his car elsewhere for now so it wouldn’t be there all the time. It was there all the time for days during the Christmas holidays, but they weren’t likely to check and see its car there during that time. So, it’ll definitely be back, as my vibes say. Again, if anyone’s going anywhere for good or for a while, it’s not gonna happen till September. And that’s if. I think it’ll be back on Friday or Saturday.

Blackie’s acting pretty weird tonight. He came in and ate. He ate a good amount, too. More than the usual two bites. Now he’s sitting under the kitchen table where he’s been now for a while.

I figured something was up with my folks for them to not be sending as much in the way of email. Dad said Ma has some kind of flu or virus and he’s gonna take her to a doctor. Hopefully, she’ll be OK, I told him, sorry I couldn’t help, keep us posted.

For our anniversary, Tom’s gonna get me the 7 CDs we couldn’t find in stores, by ordering them on the computer.

For our anniversary and his birthday, he wants a car racing game for his computer and cordless headphones.

We went to the library yesterday. I got a couple of Dean Koontz books. So far, the one I’ve begun is great. I’ll go read some more of it now while I begin my day’s walking.

Later…

Aren’t we off to an early start this morning! The Caddy (which may not really be a Caddy, but something that looks like one) pulled in a few minutes ago. The little bitch was doing something in the backseat, then the car left. I don’t think I saw anyone in the passenger seat and I thought I only heard one door shut, so maybe she just popped the kid in it, but not herself.

Walking goes much much faster with a book in hand. Reading and walking is it. Not music and walking. That’s for damn sure! I walked 30 minutes so far today but only went 1.5 miles so far. That’s OK. The time I spend walking is more important than how far I walk.

I Raided some food for White Paws. Amazingly, this desperately hungry thing ate it. I know God won’t allow it to die, though. Maybe it’ll get sick, but even that’s doubtful. Wish I could get a hold of some really potent, tasteless, scentless poison for her, but I know I’m stuck with this cat till we split.

Later…

Wow! I don’t believe it. I just went out back, fully expecting to see White Paws sitting out there, but nope. She wasn’t anywhere in sight. I’m sure she’s not off dying somewhere, but I almost wish! Maybe she’s off puking somewhere, but she’ll be back. Haven’t seen the bitch of a mother in a couple of days. She’s mostly off tending to her kittens that’ll be ours to deal with once they grow some more.

Later…

Sure enough, White Paws is A-OK. Out there sitting in the shade. I just sprayed her away for a while again.

Later…

Well, there was a city car parked on the street in front of the freeloaders’. I’d like to say that they found out Loverboy was living there, he split, and an inspector just came to ensure that he’s all moved out, but nope. I’m not stupid. Even if they were onto him and even if this is the case going on here, it’ll be back in a month or two.

I expected to get up yesterday after sleeping 4 hours, but nope. I slept right through. I woke up a few times, but I was able to fall back asleep in seconds.

I walked for just over 40 minutes and just over two miles.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 10, 1998 My brother was supposed to call me back several days ago. I don’t know if he’s giving me the silent treatment or what, but if he is, I hope he’ll have the guts to come out and say so this time around. If not why, then at least I hope he has the guts to tell me he doesn’t want to talk to me. I told him up front back in ‘93 that it was his choice to associate with me and that I’d respect whatever he chose. He just wasn’t gonna keep coming back into my life. He’s either gonna be in my life or always out of it.

I woke up just 4 hours after going to bed, as usual. Finally, it hit me and I said to myself, if you’re waking up after just 4 hours of sleep, then that’s all you need. Especially when you’re waking up just because, and not due to some rude, sick fuck’s noise. So, instead of living on Benadryl every day, which I don’t want to do, I’m gonna just let my body sleep as long as it chooses.

Later…

The sun’s up so that means Tweety’s chirping away. The weather will be fine for him through the weekend. Of course, I don’t even know how hot or how cold parakeets can stand. Will we ever hit 110º? Even 105º? In Florida, it’s the other way around. They’re unusually hot.

Anyway, I hope that the weekend will be wonderful and not noisy. I’ll be up during the day.

So freeloader boy, are you over there? It’s gotta be back by now, but if it’s not, it’ll be back by the weekend, no doubt. I still think it helped someone move, but we’ll see. At 7:15 yesterday was when the silver Caddy came to get the bitch, so we’ll see if I hear Mr. Fuck slam out at 7:30, which was its usual departure time.

I’ve been having fun Raiding White Paws this morning. That fucking cat’s never gonna get it, is it? It obviously hangs around just to piss me off. Maybe there aren’t many dogless yards here, but what about an alley or something?

Later on, at about noon - 1:00, we’ll be going out and doing some shopping. I want to order the CDs I couldn’t find in stores on the computer for my anniversary present. Meanwhile, I thought we’d go to Walmart to see if he could find something for him. We may also stop for a bite to eat, and to pick up some books at the library. I don’t know yet if I’ll get fiction stories or true crime stories.

Later…

I never heard anyone leave from next door. Not even the bitch.

I walked 1.9 miles so far today at a pace of approximately 4 MPH and it all took 29 minutes.

Later…

Just did some singing for the second time today.

I did hear some sounds that may have been from next door, but if they were, I didn’t see anything in the way of any vehicles.

TUESDAY, JUNE 9, 1998 Well, well, what do you know? According to Tom, Freeloader Boy’s car hasn’t been here tonight and last night. That’s weird, too, cuz I could’ve sworn I heard him slamming around at 9:30 a couple of nights ago, and he didn’t warn me a change or absence was to come by blasting off, and my vibes never sensed anything. Well, wherever it is, it’ll be back in a few days or so.

Later…

It’s only 4:23 in the morning and yet the sun’s coming up.

Andy was over last night. He did what he usually does when he visits. He went on the web to read up on Stevie. Unfortunately, he was stoned, so that means he was a flaky ditz who was half out of it. I wish he’d come over sober when he’s more alert and receptive to what’s going on around him and to what’s being said.

I wonder if Blackie has worms. He was bleeding from the ass and he’s really skinny, so maybe we’ll pick up some stuff for it. It’s just something you put in their food.

As I said, I’m walking 30-40 minutes a day, but am doing very limited exercises. Just enough to keep my back feeling good. I’m still huge, but again, it’s mostly all in the gut and face. My goals have changed too. Obviously, I cannot lose weight for whatever reason, and I’m just not in the mood to live on water, so my new goal is to maintain the 125 pounds I’m now at. If I can’t lose, fine, but I don’t want to go above 125. So, that’s what I’ll work on and will walk to ensure I stay right where I am. Once again, I feel really insulted to have worked so hard to lose a few pounds only and to have quit smoking just to keep on having attacks. Yup, yesterday was my 3rd vicious attack. There really is never an end to this and it’s so scary and frustrating. I not only felt angry and humiliated, too, to have quit for nothing but a few saved bucks, but I almost had Tom get cigarettes. I almost said, fuck it! I’m gonna make myself smoke no matter what. If I’m gonna have lung trouble, it’s gonna be for a reason.

I wonder, though, could this be meant to be for a reason? I ask this, cuz it’s led to Tom and I taking action now as far as going to a doctor goes. Did God have this happen knowing it’d lead to us seeing doctors now cuz he feels it’s time for me to learn something I should know? Well, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with my lungs or thyroid. If he were gonna do something to me, I’d think it’d be my female parts that he’d go after. But is it time? Is it time for me to see if I can find out what makes me sterile?

I showed Tom what I wrote about my being sterile and my wanting to know why and my suspicions about him. He said I’m all wrong about him. I said, “OK, then there’ll be no problems when I go to a doctor in January. I love you, I’d do most anything for you, but I need answers here and I can’t worry about you or care what you think of what I’m doing.”

His response was thrilling. He said he doesn’t want me to care what he thinks as far as this goes. Well, then I don’t have to feel guilty. I can do what I gotta do to see if I can find out why I’m sterile, then get on with my life.

Anyway, I have an appointment with a Dr. Linda Brown out near Melanie in Glendale on July 13. This is when I’ll mention the asthma, see about making sure my thyroid is OK, see about getting my ear cleaned, then see about a female exam. When I have the female exam, I’ll mention the DES exposure and how I can’t conceive, then hopefully the ball will roll from there. It may take me time to find out any answers if I can, but it’s worth a shot. I just don’t know how much Tom may or may not get in the way or try to con or manipulate things, even if it’s on a subconscious level, but we’ll see. If he doesn’t cooperate, I’m still gonna see to it that they do what I need them to do for me. I still won’t tell them, though, that I want answers and not a child. Tom still swears he’s gonna make an appointment for himself, too, when I go for mine, but this I’ll believe if I see it.

Later…

Tweety’s in for a change, although I don’t know if it’s gonna get all that hot out. He’s actually doing this chirping that’s pretty and not as obnoxious as when he squawks.

Later…

I was peering outside when I saw 3 kids at the Lopez’s fooling around with a basketball. I said to myself Oh no! They’re gonna come right over here and play basketball. They didn’t, though.

Jesus! It’s only gonna be in the low 90s for the next few days. It’s supposed to be 110º now!

Lisa called me collect. As usual, I refused it and called her right back. She says that instead of cutting herself, she’s drinking. Great. Just great. Well, once again I went through my speech about how things do get better and to try to do something more constructive when things aren’t going well.

I wish I could speed up time for her and get her out of that house. Not that adults on their own don’t have their share of problems, but I just wish things could get better for her like yesterday. My heart goes out to her, knowing what she’s going through. She’s in my old shoes, I swear. The only difference is, is that she’s not in a funny farm or a foster home. I’d rather her stay home than be in some psyche ward or foster home (especially if the foster parents aren’t like Anna and Harry were), but I still think Tammy’s a shitty mother. Maybe she’s not like our mother was, but she’s bad enough.

Lisa says Larry secretly went down to meet her at school where she was doing something with cooking. That was really nice of Larry. I didn’t think he’d ever care about Tammy’s kids.

She says Larry wants her to live with him.

Right now, Lisa’s going through a lot of mixed feelings. She doesn’t want her parents arrested, but she doesn’t want to take the shit they dish out, understandably. She’d love to live with Larry, but she doesn’t want to leave home.

Then she tells me I’m young and cool and that’s why she likes me so much, on top of my knowing what she’s going through and her being able to trust me. That’s sweet of her, but I still think she’d be disappointed and shocked if she saw me. She’s seen recent pictures of me, but I don’t know if she realizes just how fat I’ve gotten. I’m about 25 pounds heavier than when she last saw me.

She says Tammy and Mark got in a fight. Yeah, I believe that. Lisa said something about him pushing people away and throwing things. That sister of mine knows how to pick them, huh?

It really pisses me off to hear that now Tammy’s slapping her around, so this is what I did: I typed a letter to her, and in it, I commented on how anyone that hits kids (referring to Bill) is sick, etc. Maybe she’ll look in the mirror after reading this.

Lisa goes in a van that picks her up to a place where she’s an out-patient. She goes for 4 hours 3 days a week.

Later…

Tom and I just went for a swim. The water was only pleasant due to the pool cover, or else we’d never have been able to get into that water.

He put up the volleyball net, so we played a little volleyball and badminton, but no bee bashing. There was only one bee that came along and he missed it.

I scanned some desert scenery pictures, as well as a few of me from when I first got here, for Paula.

Why oh why does Kim insist on sending me Bob’s letters? I tell her she doesn’t need to bother, but she just doesn’t listen. She wasted a stamp just to send me his boring letter, filled with the same old shit. Fortunately, he doesn’t write to her very often. Lately, he only writes when she does and she just sent a letter for the first time in 3 months. Bob’s letters are so fucking boring, that when I read (when I was proofreading) how much I used to love getting letters from him from 1992-1995, I was kind of embarrassed for myself. How could I dig getting letters from him?

Wonder what Miss Bitch was doing here on a weekday at 1:00. That silver Caddy pulled in, she and the kid got out for a few minutes, then she returned and took off, but I don’t know if the kid was in tow. It could’ve been left here with someone, but I doubt that.

MONDAY, JUNE 8, 1998 The weekend went by fast, seeing that my schedule’s on nights. All I heard was some door slams a few hours ago to remind me they’re still there.

Andy’s coming over at 12:30. So if he really does come over, he’ll really be here at 2:30.

Tom got an air cleaner and a small portable evaporative cooler.

Kim sent an email with some jokes.

I just had some chicken. It feels so good to not worry about eating too much. I quit weighing myself regularly, too, cuz I know the scale will always say 122-128.

I don’t know from where, but Blackie’s bleeding. There was a drop of blood in the living room and a few on the kitchen floor, so I put him outside. Maybe he was in a catfight.

SUNDAY, JUNE 7, 1998 Yesterday turned out good, but today’s a day that I could do without.

Here’s where I’m glad my husband’s easy and not your average guy. I was too horny to wait for him to get up and take the time to eat, digest, and do the many things he has to do before he can have sex, so I woke him up. We began screwing, but he went soft. He said he had to pee, but I think he really wasn’t all that into it. That was fine, though, cuz I just had him go down on me, which is really what I wanted all along, cuz I needed some relief fast! And naturally and thankfully, he didn’t mind being left out. So I can be selfish and not feel guilty about it.

From here on out, I could easily live the rest of my life with the vibrator half the time, and with his tongue the other half of the time. I could totally live without screwing at this point, although the variety’s still nice.

I feel so insulted and kind of embarrassed, too, to have lost just one or two measly pounds after the two weeks or so I’ve gone on just a few bites a day, and after the exercises I’ve been doing for over a month now. It’s hopeless. Totally hopeless. This is how I’m meant to be. I’ll never be any smaller than I am again. I lose a lousy inch in the hips, but meanwhile, those exercises never really did me a damn bit of good. I knew they wouldn’t too, cuz I’m too fat. The crunches just can’t cut through all that fat. I just don’t have the willpower to live on just water and that’s what it’d take. Meanwhile, I’m gonna fuck the exercises and fuck watching what I eat. I’ll eat what I want, when I want, but will continue the 30-45 minutes a day of walking. Once again, I’m gonna prove to Tom and myself, but mostly to myself, that there is something up there that’ll never let me get any smaller. I made a bet with him that if I walk down to at least 115, I have to cook for him 5 nights in a row. If I don’t, he owes me Red Lobster.

Another thing I find insulting and frustrating, even scary and sad, is how I still have wheezing bouts and how I still need inhalers every day. Yes, I know it could be worse, I could still be in the ER and having bad attacks regularly and on more medication, but God? I don’t smoke anymore, so why must I still have wheezing fits? It’s like - thanks, God. Thanks for rewarding me for all my hard work in fat and wheezing. Adults aren’t supposed to have asthma. At least that’s what the latest reports say. You can have allergies, though. I swear, if it’s not the norm, it’s me.

Tom got this bright idea that if he brought up the CD-maker differently, it’d work all the time unless we got a defective CD. Well, he made me an audio CD and him a data CD for the computer OK, but when it came time for me to do a CD, of course it had to fuck up. It won’t work for me. Something doesn’t want me making CDs. I’ve been so stubborn, though. I just don’t know when to give the fuck up, but this is it as far as the CDs go. I tried, I got a few that I like, now that’s it. Time to move on. There is something really cool that I did do as far as CDs go. I made labels. There’s this CD labeler that lets you line up a label to put directly onto the CD. I used all different pretty graphics. They’re not photos of any kind, but they’re colorful. They have ocean waves, swirls, and designs like that that I used.

Again, why would I have the suspicions I have about Tom if they weren’t true? I know he doesn’t want a kid (thank God), but this means he’s gonna do what he can to block me from going to a doctor and finding out what’s wrong with me. He does not want to deal with it. I know finding out what’s wrong with me won’t fix whatever’s wrong with me and I wouldn’t want to, but I’d still like to know and understand. Not just have theories and guesses. I can’t let another year go by with this eating at me. I want to know why I’m sterile if I can be told why, so I can close that chapter and move on. I tried to talk to him earlier and although he said we could talk if I needed to, he just did not want to deal with this. I can tell. Every time I bring it up, he just does not want to hear it. Well, that’s fine, cuz I’ve got to do this for me. I’ll leave him out of it. He doesn’t have to go to a doctor himself. He doesn’t want to deal with it, he doesn’t want to go to a doctor - fine, but I’ve got to do this for me. I don’t see how they could legally refuse to help me just cuz he wouldn’t be a part of this, too. He won’t come out and say he refuses to support me or go along with me or go to a doctor, but his actions will tell that. He won’t make an appointment to go to a doctor for himself, and I know he won’t be supportive of me, either.

He tells me he wants me to be happy, he tells me I should do something about this rather than talk about it, he supports me through my ear, through my teeth, but not with this. I just know he’s gonna try to put a guilt trip on me, but like I told him in the message I left him, I’ve got to do this for me like I should’ve since we got married. I should’ve trusted my gut instinct, I knew something was wrong with me, so I should’ve dealt with it then and not let it eat at me year after year. I can’t keep putting this off and making excuses. That gets too easy. It may never be important to him, cuz if we did it his way, we’d never go to a doctor and if I never brought up testing/kids again, he wouldn’t either. No, I’m not going now, and not when I’m 34 or 35, but in January. I thought that’d be a good time. After the Florida trip, but before we move, so that’ll be one less thing we’ll have to take long trips into town for, cuz I’m sure it’ll take me a few months to find the answers I seek if they can find them for me.

I don’t want a child for various reasons that I’m sure are obvious, and I can do a million other things for Tom, but this I need to do for me. I need to start thinking of and doing for my sanity sometimes. I don’t think what I’m doing is wrong, any more than it was wrong of me to deal with my ear and teeth. If one has a problem, they should try to fix it. Like I said, I could go to my grave asking why I’m sterile, but I don’t want to. I know God sterilized me and why, but how did he let it happen? That’s what I want to know.

This isn’t to say that if I had been OK and gotten pregnant, he would’ve been your typical dad. I think he’d have stuck around and would’ve been very supportive and a good father.

He says he loves me, and I believe him. If he didn’t, he would never have dealt with me with my ear, teeth, and other things. I’m sure he’ll see how much this means to me and will take me to the doctor even if he came out and told me he didn’t want any part of it. I’ve lived with this enough years, he knows it, and I don’t need to add another year or 2 or 5 or 10. I believe him when he says he doesn’t like to see me hurt, angry, confused, frustrated, etc. Well, the not knowing sure is frustrating and it’s well past time to do whatever I can to deal with it and seek closure to it.

Later…

I just had a huge potato and oh, it felt so good! See, I never get used to not eating much. Instead, it catches up to me and my stomach wants to make up for lost food. Of course, now that I’m eating when I’m hungry and eating more than a bite a day, I’m right back to what I originally weighed. So all my hard work was wasted. I did what I did for nothing, and I don’t know why I even bothered in the first place. I should trust my instinct and vibes when they tell me I’ll never again be below 120 pounds. I don’t see myself going into the 130s, but I’ll be right where I am in the mid-20s indefinitely. Why do I even bother to walk? All it’ll do for me is raise my heartbeat and make me thirsty. I just want freedom from food and weight worries and I’m taking that freedom back. I’ve been on the weight and food trip for too damn long now. For 8 months I drove myself crazy just to lose a few pounds, then end up right where I started. Wow! I should be proud of myself, huh?

Later…

Yesterday I spoke to my folks. Boo and Max, who found a place down there, are gonna be leaving MA altogether, I guess. They took Mom out for steak for her birthday.

Tom did a lot around here. He cut the pool cover to fit the pool, set up the reel we got for it, and the volleyball net, too. He trimmed the little palm trees and did several other things.

SATURDAY, JUNE 6, 1998 Sent my mom a “Happy Birthday” message on AOL and typed Tammy a letter.

It really bothers me that they’ve got Lisa drugged up, but it fucking figures. They’ve got her on a couple of different medications I’ve never heard of. I just can’t understand using drugs to solve problems. Drugs don’t solve problems. People solve problems. And sometimes people have problems that no other people can solve, but this doesn’t mean that they should resort to drugs on account of it. How can you learn to deal with your problems naturally, if you’re drugged up?

Is Tom ever gonna get up? I’ve been horny all night, so if he doesn’t get up soon, I’m gonna just take care of myself. Maybe I should do that anyway, cuz even if he got up now, first he has to eat, then take an hour to digest, then take forever to get started, etc. He’s just got so many conditions. Can’t we ever have unconditional sex? He has to have an empty stomach. The temperature has to be just right. The time has to be just right. Everything has to be just right. He can’t just have fun and not worry about everything having to be perfect.

And the tooth comes down some more. I can really feel it trying to force its way out. I’m not in any pain, but I can feel pressure in the area at times, and sometimes my jaw pops.

Ziggy has a strange way of wheeling. It’s like she rocks back and forth while she wheels. She doesn’t continuously flow around the wheel.

God, I’m so bored now! Should I do a fourth walking session, or what?

FRIDAY, JUNE 5, 1998 It’s that time. The weekend’s here. I don’t know what to expect, as usual. When I got up at 3 PM, Tom told me there was a U-Haul over there. He said it was parked at a funny angle. Its back was right against the corner of their house, suggesting it was loaded with something they were holding for someone else. If someone had been moving in shit here, why leave it in the U-Haul? And also, if someone was moving out, why keep it in the U-Haul here? So, Tom’s theory was that it was being held for someone else and it was at that angle so no one could take any of the stuff inside. In other words, if there was a couch in there, you couldn’t move it out cuz the house would be in the way.

An hour or two later, a dark blue car I’d never seen before was sitting on the street in front of their house. Then the bald-headed cock jumped in the U-Haul. The blue car took off, and Baldy followed.

So Tom was right. No one’s coming or going. The person in the blue car was who El Cocko was helping/holding shit for. Besides, my vibes tell me they’re it. They’re our last neighbors while we’re here. My vibes aren’t always accurate as far as when and if they’ll act up at certain times, but I would pretty much bet these journals that they’re it.

Tom said that maybe this person he was helping was moving into a house and maybe they’d go there for sports parties. Not a chance. First off, they want to at least have occasional outbursts to piss me off and be noticed by me. Secondly, if this person was going into a house, why not park the U-Haul there? Obviously, this person’s going into an apartment. And probably coming from one, too.

Later…

Just thought I’d write some more in between laundry, cooking, and dishes.

Andy’s going to Quinn’s funeral tomorrow. He was cremated a few days ago.

Andy and I haven’t gotten together yet, but we will. When we do see each other, he’s gonna be thrilled and amazed to see how many notes he’ll be getting. Yeah, it’s time to make him a new batch of “funny notes.” I used a handwritten font and oh, how easy it is to print these little notes out! I could never do this on the old printer. I had a tall square pad of 10 different colors. I took the reds and greens that I don’t like, so he’ll end up with tons of notes.

Yesterday I began walking on the treadmill. I never thought I’d enjoy walking so much. I’m starting with 3 10-minute walks a day. Every other day I’ll do my shaping/toning exercises.

Colorful Images really wants my business. That’s the label company. They sent me 10 very boring address labels that had Bob’s name all over them. So, I’ll be sending him some old journal drafts after I’ve proofread them and I’ll use the labels on him. They also sent book labels, CD labels, video labels, and a few other labels too.

The weather’s still unbelievably mild. It’s supposed to be 110º at this time of year, but we were in the low 90s today.

THURSDAY, JUNE 4, 1998 The freeloaders are still behaving. All I heard was a few annoying door slams.

I changed the mice’s cages today and did a new setup for the first time in a while. I had had the same setup for too long. They needed a change and they like it a lot, too. Especially Star, who’s always been afraid to climb. Another reason I changed things around is so that instead of just being able to roam around in 2 of the 4 cages, as she has been, she can roam around in the maze, too. I thought it might help her to get around more and teach her to climb and so far, it looks like that’s what’s happening.

Neither of us was in the mood for sex tonight cuz we were in the mood to just lay around and chat instead. It was nice.

Here I was the other day saying I hoped Quinn killed himself - well - he did. According to Andy, he had been afraid Quinn would kill himself, too, cuz of how depressed he’d been and cuz of how he’d been talking about it. I feel so bad for ending up falsely reassuring Andy like I did. Usually, and I can say this from experience from when I jumped is that if someone’s serious about suicide, whether or not they succeed, they don’t talk about it or warn anyone, they just do it. Guess he did both, seeing that he hung himself after threatening to do so.

I feel bad for Andy, who was still in shock when I last talked to him, and I wouldn’t say this out of respect for him, but I can’t say I’m sad over Quinn’s killing himself. It’s sad to see one be so miserable all their lives, but that’s just it - he was miserable and he brought others down with him and I haven’t forgotten those times he was a sick fuck. I know it was just a matter of time before Quinn became verbally and emotionally abusive to Andy again, and who knows what else? He was a druggie and a waste product so, in a sense, his life was over long before he hung himself. It’s like he never even had a purpose in life from what Andy told me.

The good I see in this is that it might help Andy to move on. I don’t see him running to Connecticut to be with David or him getting some other wonderful guy out here, but I still think Quinn was a bad influence in his life and when he wasn’t, all he did was hold Andy back.

At least now I won’t have to worry about Quinn hurting Andy and me having to hurt Quinn. Just because I’m perfectly willing to beat the snot out of anyone that may hurt someone I love and care for, doesn’t mean I want to.

As for why Quinn did this, I guess he just couldn’t deal with the real world, and as Andy said, he could never fully accept his gayness. It was probably that and a combination of things. I think he knew his life never meant anything and that it was going nowhere.

At least Andy’s dealing with this well. He says it only makes him want to live all the more.

Later…

Andy left me a message this morning saying he was sorry he didn’t call back yesterday. I had called him, but he had company. He said that after the company left, he just wanted to be alone. No problem. I understand. He also said he was going to go over to play with Quinn’s cat. Also, Marla called, so the family will know about it now. They’ll probably feel as I do - sorry one was so miserable that they had to end it all, but perhaps they’ll breathe a sigh of relief knowing that this potentially dangerous waste product, which’s a negative influence, is out of the way for good now.

Tom and I were discussing Andy and Quinn last night. I had left him a message about it when I found out about it, cuz I was gonna be in bed when he got in. He said he was sorry about it, which was nice of him.

I see the little animal kid was out playing with the Lopez’s kid. They were very quiet this time. I wouldn’t have known they were out if I didn’t look out and see. Guess they mostly stay on the Lopez’s property.

Later…

Evie went to a doctor about her weight and you’d think they’d tell her some complex thing to do, but nope. The doctor just said, “Don’t eat bread and walk 45 minutes a day.” I guess bread affects the body’s insulin and sugar levels. I don’t know about the walking, but I know that one must stop eating in order to lose weight. I’ve been at 121-123 for too long now so I’ve got to muster up the willpower to eat even less. It’s either food and fat or no food and thinness for me. A few bites a day will keep me where I am, but it won’t let me drop further down. I’ll be doing some walking myself, though, so we’ll see if it helps or not. Tom brought the walker back from Ma’s that we had let her use before she got so weak.

I left Andy a message letting him know that he could come over tonight if he wanted to. It goes without saying that I want him to call me anytime he needs to talk about something, but I hope he doesn’t use this Quinn thing, as selfish as I may sound, to play phone with me a lot.

I also called to wish Becky a happy birthday. Actually, her birthday was on the 3rd, but I forgot to call then. She’s 11 now. She also sounded like she was crying, but when I asked her if she was, she said she wasn’t. Maybe she really was, or maybe she was just tired or had allergies. Who knows?

TUESDAY, JUNE 2, 1998 Just thought I’d jot down a few things while I was waiting for the potatoes to go soft. I’m boiling up some potatoes to mash.

Last night I was like, oh my God, it’s all over! I threw away days of all this hard work. Yeah, I ate too much yesterday, but still, what I ate was a fraction of what the average person eats, and if my metabolism weren’t so slow, it wouldn’t have affected me. I woke up yesterday at 119½ and went to bed at 125! Major setback. My metabolism’s not at a complete standstill, or else I wouldn’t wake up a few pounds lighter, but it’s still really damn slow. No one should gain that much in one day. When I woke up, though, I was lucky to find that it wasn’t such a setback after all, cuz I was 122. I thought I’d wake up at 124. Still, things are going a little too slow. I should be in the high one-teens now regularly, so I hope to move things along quicker, cuz I’m gonna eat even less. Another reason I could’ve woken up that low was cuz of the attack I had last night for an hour. That really takes a lot out of you. If I didn’t know any better last night, I’d swear I still smoked. Even Lisa asked if I was smoking when we talked earlier.

It was about 3 AM and I had just gotten into bed. Next thing I know I was coughing up a storm and wheezing my ass off. It wasn’t till 6:30 when I fell asleep. So when I got up at 2:00, I felt drained and dehydrated. I even let myself have some canned peaches on top of water and coffee.

Tom and I peeled back the pool cover when I got up, and then he went to bed. After taking a quick dip and sitting out in the sun for a little while, then after waking up some more, listening to music, and exercising, I can say I felt much better. More alive and more energized.

The proofreading’s coming right along. From here on out, I should have fairly short journals and no more really long ones.

We talked some more about ways to get rid of our two unwanted cats. Scaring or hurting them won’t work. They’d either have to be killed or physically removed. And remember, this is all White Paws has ever known. Blackie will be getting fixed one of these days soon.

I called Tammy’s and got Lisa. Tammy was still out working. Lisa said she’d been thinking a lot of me lately. I’ve been thinking a lot about her, too. And worrying.

She says she’s suspended again for 10 days for swearing at her teacher and has outpatient therapy at Natchaug for 4 hours 3 days a week. They got her drugged up, too. She’s on a couple of medications I never heard of. I think they’re already out of school here, but there, they don’t get out till June 19th, says Lisa. Gotta make up all those snow days!

After telling me how much she loves me, misses me, wants to see me, and thinks I dress cool, she told me something that has me fuming even more! Guess Tammy’s taking Bill’s place with the hitting. Lisa says she understands she did wrong by cussing her teacher out, she loves her mother but says that for the first time, Tammy let her have it. She gave her a bloody lip and scratched her neck as she went to reach for her and says she’ll do it again, too.

Wonderful. Thanks, God, for allowing these things to happen. And I don’t believe it was the first time, either. I’ve seen her smack Lisa. Hell, she even hit me a lot and gave me a bloody lip when I was little. Before I was in my teens, mainly between the ages of 8-12. I asked her how old she was when Bill started smacking her around. She said about 9 or 10. So it was when I came out here.

She also says Tammy’s threatening her with foster care, so I reminded Lisa she should do better in school and find more productive ways to deal with her emotions, and why she does not want to end up in foster care.

Thank you, God, for blessing me with sterility! How could I have seen it as a curse and not the gift that it truly is? Never shall I make the same mistakes my mother and sister made or risk God murdering that child.

Later…

The freeloader just left. It had its music low, but I know its patterns. It’ll get louder and louder till I have to either contact the city or put its music out for good myself. The heat’s gonna stir this thing up. We’ll see how this thing returns at 9:30 or so, but it seems that after 3 months, our city letters expire. If that was even it. It had its quiet spells long before we ever launched a complaint to the city, so who knows why it is that he’s really quiet at times? Could be cuz they just don’t want to deal with me bitching about it or take the chance of me doing something to them or the car.

It is just gorgeous out! I love it at 82º in the shade.

Later…

Didn’t type much last time cuz it was just too beautiful to stay inside. So, I’ll type now while waiting to hear how El Cocko arrives. Unless it came back while I was under the headphones, or super quiet without even a door slam, it ain’t in yet.

I swam for quite a while at sundown. I wish the sun went down slower. I just didn’t want to get out of the pool. It’s not that I can’t stay in when the sun’s down, but dusk is my favorite time to swim. That way, the bees are gone, but you still have enough light to see around you. No swimming into any dead bugs that may be floating around. The pool chemicals dry the skin out, though, so maybe I’ll take an oil bath later.

I think I’ll go type my nieces letters for now.

MONDAY, JUNE 1, 1998 Well, this is it. This is where I’ll do my journals. No more writing them. Can’t say for sure whether or not I’ll print anything I type here out. We’ll see. What’s most important is that I have them on the computer. I don’t know if I’ll have monthly files like june98 for example, or if I’ll have two months at a time filed like junjul98. I’m using an easy-to-read font and a deep purple color. For now, anyway. Meanwhile, it’ll take me time to get a format established.

Sunday was a freeloaderless day. In fact, I wonder if he’s been around since last night. He came in quietly yesterday, but last night at 8:30, I heard more packing sounds, and then he left without music. 8:30 is an unusual time for him to leave. All day today, I haven’t heard any car doors. The last few weeks or so have been really good as far as stereos in general go. For a while there, it got really bad. A day wouldn’t go by that you wouldn’t hear someone blast by 1-3 times a day.

I thought of something, too. The bitch and cock weren’t home when that aqua car banged around for a few minutes and I realized that that could possibly be the kid and the kid’s friend. Maybe the kid let the friend bang in cuz the bitch and cock were out. Kids don’t take city complaints and eviction possibilities as seriously as adults do. So all in all, that cock and bitch may not know about this aqua car and they may have nothing to do with it. They may even worry that I’ll launch another complaint if they find out about it. Well, for their sake, it better stay at an occasional outburst with the bass, cuz as soon as they go basing out on me daily, is as soon as they’re dead meat. They’re either out of here, or they’re dead. I’m not gonna tolerate no shit from them or from anyone else. They got the wrong idea if they think they can harass me again and get away with it. I’ll lay their fucking asses across the pavement.

Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, Melanie! If Tom, who sees me every day, notices the weight I’ve lost, then she really ought to notice! It’s great when someone notices I look different (if it’s for the better), but it’s mainly important to me and that I feel comfortable. I’m happy to say I am finally trimming down and toning up, but I’ve still got a way to go.

In case I haven’t mentioned this yet, I’m inserting bullshit into the freeloader’s excerpts every few pages to keep it interesting. That way, if they get sick of reading how much I hate them and just what I’d like to do to them, they can read some interesting stories of shit they didn’t do and that may make them really read the whole thing through. It should keep their curiosity going so that they read on to see if there’s any more BS to either laugh at or get mad at. I’ve got stuff like how she chased him with a weed-whacker, she puked in the driveway, they asked me personal questions, etc. I already printed out and made into a booklet the excerpts on them from 1996-1997.

Later…

Oh, am I having a shitty time of it now! I can’t even do a simple thing like print out more journals to be proofread! I hate technology! You just can’t depend on it. The papers got all jammed up in the printer, and the CD-making thing was a bust. I got so sick of most of the CDs not coming out right that I finally said fuck it! I have a few good CDs I made, I did condense my CDs immensely, and I do have one edit CD, so I’ll live with that. I knew having everything I wanted on CD was just a dream, anyway. Just too good to be true.

I spoke with Andy, who refuses to quit calling me on weekends, and we might be getting together within the next few days. I have that stuff to give to him and Laura and I haven’t seen him in a while.

As usual, Andy’s life is as it’s been since I’ve known him. He, Michelle, and Quinn are all having a tough time. Andy says he’s afraid Quinn’s gonna kill himself cuz he’s been depressed and is not answering his phone or door. I hope he does kill himself because I believe he’s dangerous. Andy’s still loveless and lonely, and Michelle’s still a virgin and it ain’t by choice. She’s 23 and she’s never made it with anyone, male or female. She has the same problem I had. She’s attracted to very feminine women and as I can tell you firsthand, feminine gay women are one in millions and if you do find one, she’ll almost definitely want a butch. Fems don’t usually dig other fems.

He also fears that Laura and her sick pals may have drugged him. I don’t know if it’s just pot paranoia on his part, or if they did, but how can you live with someone that you fear may even think of doing that to you?! Doesn’t he have any self-respect?

I wish God would give them a break, though! God, just let them have love and great sex. Just let them have it! Is that too much for them to ask for?

Later…

Just took a moment out to get off with my vibrator. Oh, it feels sooo good! I thought of Melanie. I’d have gotten off with my husband, but that’s usually not possible as I well know.

The pool cover works great, and I’m looking forward to us getting a reel for it. The water at the top, about two inches deep, was actually hot. The rest was pleasant.

Yesterday we had a ball with the badminton/volleyball game he got for the pool. We didn’t set up the net yet for volleyball, but we played badminton. It came with 4 rackets and 4 birdies. Pink, green, blue, and yellow birdies. I actually had more fun bashing bees, than birdies. Together, we killed about 8 bees. There were so many!

It’s finally gotten hot, although not as hot as it usually is at this time. It’s usually 110º at this time, but we’ve been around 100º.

My allergies have let up. I don’t know if it’s cuz of the nasal spray I’ve been using, or for some other reason, but I don’t miss them.

Got to see Melanie today. Again, she didn’t look as hot as she did the first 4 times I saw her, but she looked plenty good enough. If I were single and she asked to get between my legs, I’d spread them without hesitation.

That nice black lady, which her kind needs many more of, came to get me. Usually, Melanie does, so I don’t know why she did. At first I was bummed, thinking Melanie wasn’t there, but then in she came!

She said she got that straightening iron we talked about the last time I was there and that it works well. She had her hair curly, though.

Hello, freeloader (it’s out slamming doors now). Yeah, I know you’re still there. How the fuck could I forget? Like you’d let me forget your sorry existence?

Anyway, I asked Melanie, “Since you’re quite the adventurer, have you gone bungee jumping yet?” She said she did last year, and it was scary.

That’s basically all we talked about. She said that yes, the tooth’s come down some more, and hopefully it can be bracketed next time I see her in just 28 days!

I got pink whatever-you-call-its instead of blue, too. She laughed when I said it clashed with my lipstick.

Amazingly, I finally woke up tipping the one-teens! Woke up at 119½.

After seeing Melanie, we went to Zia’s Records where all I could find was a Judd’s CD, but that’s fine, there are songs on it I love to sing. One of them I forgot all about till I played it.

Our last stop was to get him something to eat at Arby’s and to get me KFC. It was the most I’d eaten in days, and even after that, I still weighed 121! I thought for sure that 4 wings and one biscuit would put me up to 123, but nope. I can bet you that now, after two side dishes of macaroni and cheese, I am back up to 123, but I hope this is a good sign. One saying I’ll go from bouncing between 121-123 to bouncing between 119-121. That’s how I lost weight the last time, and I’d stay at certain weights for a week or two.

[carmenized-onions]

i was gonna send u an ask about this but then i deleted it cause i didn’t want to be annoying but you mentioned it in your reply soooo-

i literally saw the new chapter an hour after it dropped (also thanks for tagging me<3) but i’ve been working late every day this week grrr so i’m waiting to read it to give it the time it deserves. bc 1. i want to enjoy it properly and 2. yes it does take a little - lot - more time to read when i’m making notes along the way sjsjs

so i’ve been walking around at work thinking about how much i wanna read it and whenever i have a break i’m like hmmm. but then i’m like no i need to be patient. i’m going to treat myself and relax when this week is over, take a shower/bath, put on a facemask and then read the chapter and enjoy every last word. i’m hoping that will be tomorrow after work (i should be off earlier tomorrow), if not then monday which probably means you see the ask on tuesday cause of timezones (or whenever you have the time to read it)

so yeah master’s thesis inbound at some point in the near future!! but also you looking forward to reading it??? my heart went ✨🦋✨🦋✨ fr!!

My perfect little wonderful angel, as you and i both know, you've sent in your master's thesis, and i've read it multiple times, time to draft up a reply for 10 years before jumpin in the shower and doing my night routine like i'm supposed to be doing

consider this a warning everyone though: the thesis is so long (and wonderful), so your feed might get fucked, and that is our bad. sorry.

This is all to say, I'M GLAD YA GOT A CHANCE TO READ IT IN PEACE-- God makes his strongest soldiers work a nine to five. Frfr. I just got invited to join my local film union and i'm considering jumping ship on everything for it atp. Probably will.

I ALWAYSS LOOK FORWARD TO READING WHAT YOU AND ALL YOU SILLY LITTLE READERS SEND TO ME (sorry i'm not always fast to respond, typically it's because I'm writing the next chapter) Which speaking of, might drop tommorow? I feel like I should give more breathing room, to let you bitches like have a second, but to be fair, we stopped on a cliffhanger. So if my last review/syntax editing goes well, hey, maybe new chapter tomorrow? But also maybe the syntax edit goes terribly or maybe I decide to think on it longer, idk. we'll see.

[writershapeholeonthedoor]

FICS RECOMMENDATIONS

Okay, so tons of you (literally one single person) asked for some fic recommendations upon these ships, so I decided to put on a lot of work to come up with my favorite fics for all of them.

Honestly, it got much bigger than I initially intended, but oh well. I also wanted to out their summary so you know what you would be clicking on, but it would honestly get waaaay to big. So, sorry about that, people.

The list isn't following any particular order, just to be clear. Also, this fics are all from AO3, I will let the link there for you. Read it if you want and all of that.

I will also take this opportunity to say I also write fanfics, so, if you want, go check it out.

1 - SUPERCORP

I have read so many fics if them, so of course this list will be gigantic - my bad.

The Love of Forgetting, by KL_Morgan

Supergirl in Training, by wtfoctagon

you and me (and you makes three), by searidings

it's always ourselves that we find in the sea, by lostariels

wander through your thoughts like a broken promise, by aspidities

let me be your ruler, by lostariels

don't go slow 'cause you're gonna be someone, by robie

in any version of reality (i'd find you and i'd choose you), by C_AND_B

you had me at pineapples doesn't belong on pizza, by C_AND_B

The Fifth Wall, by Black_Tea_and_Bones

Swear Jar, by BroodyJC

heroism is a full time job, by unicyclehippo

I Gave You a Pizza My Heart, by PandaPaladin

Something's not right, by spacemanearthgirl

2 - SHOOT

Written on the body, by InspectorBoxer

At The Still Point (There The Dance Is), by journaliar

99.607% Match Compatibility, by ionizable

Different Names For the Same Thing, by kesdax

My Therapist Said, by mother_finch

Only Fools Dial Drunk, by kesdax

3 - WAYHAUGHT

Okay, so to be honest I don't read too many fics of these ones because canon is just so perfect.

for the price of seven good cows, by coldmackerel

Colors, by onlywordsnow

Strangers Again, by Last_Young_Renegade

4 - CABENSON

I also don't spend so much time with cabenson fics, but I will loose track on time looking at gifs of them. Sue me

Magnetic Resistence, by RaeDMagdon

It Happened One Night, by RaeDMagdon

A New Life, by AOZB

Dancing, by mjduncan

5 - BISHOVA

I'm super new to this ship and didn’t have a chance to read much about there two idiots, so feel free to drop some names for me!

come as you are, as you were, as i want you to be, by endofdaysforme

when we went from friends to this, by pocketfulofarrows

Home for the Holidays, by galaxiesreader

Breath in the Summer Air (You Are the Sand Between my Toes), by tamoline

Misunderstandings, by Thatoneloser_kid

Killshot, by arrowsandbows

6 - FLEURMIONE

Cold as Ice, by zerozerozero (zerodawn22)

Saving Souls & Healing Hearts, by BatwingLawyer

In Defiance of Destiny, by AgentGrey

Dance with me, by MyCatIsMyEditor

7 - Lou Miller x Debbie Ocean

smit me, i'll come back for more, by atlantaisairlock

Magic numbers, by aster_risk

wind me up, convertible nights with you, by atlantisairlock

8 - DANSEN

Honestly, most fics have other ships in the middle. Not enough fics that focus solenly on these two.

with these hands, by daskey

Let's fill this cup and drink it up tonight, by mw4vt9

9 - CAROLNAT

Every Tuesday Afternoon, by flipflop_diva

divine, by novoaa1

Marked, by flipflop_diva

A light among the stars, by Alexander_Daeqirelle

10 - GLORBIE

This Barbie Likes Gloria, by a9e9r9e1n

what's god to a woman's love anyway, by overnights

Godforsaken Mess That You Made Me, by luckytheepizzadog_13

11 - (gay) TWILIGHT

Multiple ships, beware

After Office Hours, by Rhys_J

Falling Slowly, by Kamaroo917

Boyshorts, by leyweaver

A Rose By Any Other Name..., by T_E_Reynolds

So I Hope You See (That I Would Love to Love you), by Olivia_Janae

It Was Always You, by fritokays

What Do You See?, by CuriousAussie

Kiss the Violets, by Scream_In_Cathedrals

12 - ROJARIAS

the ties that bind, by sten06

i'll be home for christmas (you can count on me), by daskey

Honestly, it took me 3 hours to make this list, so please enjoy

@bearrycool 😉

My favorite ships ranked!

There's a huge chance this list will change once every two days at the very least, but let's do it!

1. SUPERCORP

Literally my favorite ship ever. They're just perfect for each other in every possible way. Their love languages complement each other perfectly, they can rely on each other, and they work together like the best team in the world. Lena needs love and Kara knows how to offer it without asking for anything in exchange. She will take whatever Lena is willing to give her and be happy about it. But Kara still needs someone that will look at her and see who she really is, no judgment, and someone who she will be comfortable being herself - Kara Zor El - with.

Speaking of fanfic, I think it’s safe to say these fandom has some very talented authors who gave us very well written works. They can also work in every possible scenario, so that's a huge bonus.

Favorite scene: "Supergirl might have saved the city, but, Kara Danvers, you're my hero."

2. SHOOT

Shoot is THAT couple that should have ended up together, but didn’t. I don't hold a grudge on it, though, because Root's death made sense to the show's ongoing plot. I can't say they would be perfect like Supercorp because Shaw has some emotional problems and Root is just also in love with a artificial intelligence or whatever, but they would work. Shaw would try - for Root - and Root would love every part that Shaw allows her to see.

Favorite scene: "You can't live with me and I can't live without you."

3. WAYHAUGHT

Do I even have to say anything? Our most perfect CANON couple. They were perfect from start to finish. The way Nicole absolutely adored Waverly, almost like a worship even, but wasn’t afraid to stand tall on her ideas and opinions. The way Waverly acted like Nicole hung the moon and stars in the sky just for her, and how we know she would be able to do anything to keep Nicole happy. They're that couple that make everyone's teeth rotten with how sweet they are.

Favorite scene: "You guys make The Notebook look bleak."

4. CABENSON

One of my favorite gay ships, so it has a special place in my heart. In the early seasons, it's pretty clear, at least for me, that Alex and Olivia could have something going on. I believe they were both shoving it away because none of them was ready to get seriously involved with anyone and they knew that whatever they decided to have would be too special to be treated lightly. Unfortunately, time was cut short for them when Alex got pulled away for WitSec.

I do think they will forever be each other's "almost", or "what if", but they're long past that now. They changed too much and they did it separately. If they were together, they would have changed around each other and, possibly, be able to work those differences to stay together. But now I don't think they would be able to keep a relationship. It's a bit sad, but it's also a very good portrait of reality.

Favorite scene: "You like being back on court, don't you?"

5. BISHOVA

I'm new to this ship, but I already love it. They remind me a lot of Shoot, actually. We just know that Yelena needs to find someone who would love her with no restrictions and that she deserves to find love. And Kate needs someone able to ground her, but also someone who allows her to be as silly as she wants, someone that will always have her back, doesn't matter how insane her plans might be. They have chemistry too. Also, I can see them getting together with no drama at all, or maybe something they can easily solve, and then being together for the rest of their lives to the point that they can't even remember a time they didn’t know each other. We didn’t get to see them that much, sadly, but I keep my hopes up for more scenes of them in the future.

Favorite scene: "You have one fork?"

6. FLEURMIONE

Okay, two intelligent and beautiful women together? Sign me in! I've been in Harry Potter's fandom for many, many, years now and, after giving it too much thought, I can safely say that Fleur would be the perfect match for Hermione. She would challenge Hermione, they would have endless discussions about any and every subject, they would have enough books together to fill up a library, and they would make each other want to be better every day. I also see Fleur being a bit sarcastic and Hermione keeps rolling her eyes at her at least fifteen times a day.

Fleur is constantly curious about the muggle world, always eager to learn anything Hermione is willing to show her. She would have a great relationship with Hermione's parents, mostly because she thinks they're one of the most genius people on the planet because they know how to fix people's teeth. Meanwhile, Gabrielle would loooove to talk with Hermione, especially when they get together to embarrass Fleur.

Favorite scene: You know, the totally canon one when Fleur asked Hermione to the Yule Ball.

7. LOU MILLER X DEBBIE OCEAN

Heist wives? Yes, please.

We don't even need to pretend. These two were totally banging throughout the whole movie. The headcanon is that they used to date, then Debbie made some stupid decisions, met the wrong people, they broke up for a while and then Debbie got locked up. I believe Lou was so angry with her for both being stupid and for ruining what they had because she wanted to get more money than they actually needed, that she didn’t even visit Debbie in prison.

While there, Debbie had enough time to realize how much of an idiot she had been, so it's up to her to win Lou back. Meanwhile, Lou knows that she's screwed the second she sees Debbies smile again. She just can't help but orbit around her.

Also, they're the Moms, no doubt about that.

Favorite scene: "Baby, I don’t have a diamond yet."

8. DANSEN

The only reason they’re all the way down here is because I hate CW, but I actually love them more than half of my family. They’re married, they’re moms, they’re in love, they’re perfect. Someone as caring as Kelly needed someone to make her go crazy like Alex, while Alex deserved someone that would understand her no matter what. Honestly, I just love them.

Favorite scene: THE PROPOSAL

9. CAROLNAT

Is there any chance this could happen? No.

Do I still dream about it? Constantly.

It's just one of those couples where things would just work. My biggest headcanon for them is that they would be constantly laughing and having fun. Always joking and playing around with each other. Natasha would crave physical touch and Carol would be happy just to be around her at all. Carol would finally find a reason to stay on Earth without feeling guilty about it and Natasha would one thousand percent make a retirement party for her.

Also, they would protect each other so fiercely that no one would even dare to warm any of them.

Favorite scene: The one where Natasha ends up on top of Carol in the training room. Totally canon, trust me.

10. GLORBIA

Might sounds crazy, but hear me out.

Barbie is literally Gloria's dream Barbie, and Gloria is the reason Barbie is alive. Once Barbie becomes human, I can totally see Gloria falling for her without even noticing it, while Barbie takes a while to realize what are those things she's feeling. I do believe Sasha would have a strong part in bringing them together. She would be the one to explain to Barbie what a crush is and what being in love should feel like, and then she would have to give her mom a gentle push to acknowledge her own feelings.

After that, fluff all the way. Gloria would be the most patient person in the world while she sees Barbie navigating human life, just happy to have whatever Barbie is comfortable giving her. Meanwhile, Barbie keeps getting surprised by how strong her feelings can be every time she even looks at Gloria.

Favorite scene: Not a scene per se. Instead, I'm bringing that Tumblr post that says "Ken only has a great day when Barbie looks at him. Gloria always has a great day when she looks at Barbie."

Bonus

11. GAY BELLA

Quite literally, any lesbian ship from Twilight. My favorite one is Rosella, but Bella x Tanya is a close second. Bellice is also a very strong candidate, not to mention Bella x Kate. And, oh, did I hear someone say Bella x Irina or was it Bella x Leah? Honestly, just give me lesbian Bella and I will be happy.

12. ROJARIAS

One of the hottest couples that exist.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.