#he mentions being gray later and she's like ''HUH??''

[amethyst-halo]

got thinkinf abt floyd n rosewood so i doodled them :]

[rumplereids]

research purposes.

tags: spencer reid x reader. tech analyst!reader. mentions of 50 shades of grey. bau ladies are like gossiping wine moms. fluff & crack, bcos spencer has been thru enough already. referenced/mentioned sexual acts but nothing explicit. a/n: got inspired by aj cook implying mgg was reading 50 shades + the table read of cm where mgg’s name card was “matthew 50 shades of gray gubler” masterlist. requests are open !

The team is on the jet home from a consultation in San Francisco. Everybody’s either dozing off (Emily and Derek), eating (Rossi), or doing paperwork (Hotch, as usual). JJ is scrolling on her phone, catching up on the pictures and videos Will sent of Henry when she notices something very bizarre.

“Reid, are you reading 50 Shades of Grey?”

“Huh?” he looks up from the paragraph he was reading. Something about not making love and only fucking hard. Or whatever drivel he’s suffering for you.

“I didn’t peg you the type to be reading romance or erotica.”

“It’s for research.”

JJ quirks a brow Spencer doesn’t see. His eyes already returned to the book in his hands.

“Research? For Y/N?”

“Yep,” Spencer turns a page.

JJ continues to gape at him. She wants to press for more details, but with a shake of her head, decides she was better off not knowing the intricacies of the relationship of people she considers her siblings. No matter how baffled she is by the fact that Spencer Reid is reading 50 Shades of Grey, she doubts that she’d want to dip a toe in that rabbit hole. However, she has no qualms of bringing up this certain knowledge in the near future.

Spencer was in a rush to finish his case load for the day. It’s your day off, so he’s doing anything he can so that he can go home earlier than usual. With you out for the day, he can’t even pop into your office to bug you, talk your ear off, or have an impromptu make out session. It was so sad, really.

He’s down to his last three folders when Derek attempts to get his attention.

“Pst! Pretty boy,” Morgan whisper-yells.

“Yes?”

“How’s Y/N?”

Spencer’s a bit perplexed by the question. While it’s not unusual for Derek to worry about your well-being, he finds it a bit weird for Derek to be asking such a question at that exact moment. As far as he knows, you texted Derek 15 minutes ago about mold on the street that you insist looked like the aforementioned man. That was the last time Spencer talked to you as well.

“She’s fine. Enjoying her day off.”

There’s a big grin crawling across Derek’s face. Such a look on a man like Derek Morgan spelled trouble. He looks like he knows something that Spencer doesn’t. Spencer’s starting to get cautious.

“Anything exciting happened to you guys this weekend?” Derek asks with that shit-eating, I-know-something-you-don’t-know grin.

Spencer raises a brow.

“Not much. The usual,” Spencer flips a page in his file.

Morgan hums, “Ah, yes. The usual.”

Spencer looks up at Derek, perplexed. Having no idea what in the world Morgan is trying to get to.

“Late night?” Derek continues. Spencer shuts the folder in his hands.

“Are you trying to insinuate something?”

“I don’t know, am I?”

Spencer rolls his eyes and returns his attention to his work. Completely ignoring the chuckles coming from Morgan.

A few days later, Spencer is making his second cup of coffee at the office kitchenette, bracing himself for another round of paperwork when he hears somebody rush into the room. He turns from the counter to see you, flushed and embarrassed?

“Hey, darling—”

“Why did Penelope ask me how it’s like to have my own Christian Grey?”

“What?” Spencer puts his mug down to turn his full attention on you.

“She barged into my office, asking me what kind of BDSM we’re into!” you devolve into a sort of whisper-yell, eyes shifting as to check if there were other people around. The two of you were alone in the area.

“Why would she ask that?”

“I don’t know? Something about you researching BDSM for me?”

Spencer shuts his eyes in realization, “JJ.”

“JJ? What’s she got to do with this?”

“A week ago, on the jet home from San Francisco. I was reading 50 Shades of Grey.”

You take a pause, “You read 50 Shades? I thought you said it was complete nonsense?”

“My opinion hasn’t changed on that. But I overheard you and Garcia giggling over the movie’s actor… I wanted to see what it was all about.” He tries to be nonchalant with what he’s saying. You completely melt into a puddle.

“Oh, Spence. That is the cutest and sweetest thing that has ever happened to me.”

Spencer blushes red at the comment. All these years together, and you never fail to make him feel so lovestruck and bashful.

He clears a throat, “The BDSM in the book is so atrocious. Have you read it? Or are you only interested in the movie?”

“Just the movie,” you say with a grin.

“Their lack of communication is astounding. It’s completely far off from the BDSM we’re into.”

There’s a gasp behind you. You turn to see Garcia at the entryway of the kitchenette, one mug in hand, the other hand pressed against her chest.

“Oh , I knew it. Ya’ll nasty.”

“Penelope—” you start to speak. She cuts you off.

“I didn’t believe JJ at first when she said Spencer was reading 50 Shades for research. I mean, really, Spencer Reid and BDSM? Never thought to correlate those two things ever in my life,” Penelope rambles, and then mid-thought, she turns to you, “So you do have your own Christian Grey! That’s so sexy— I don’t think that’s the right word considering it’s Reid—” this earns a snort from the man watching amused, standing against the counter, “Have you recreated any scenes from the books?”

“Penelope!” you say, aghast.

“I mean, if Spencer’s using 50 Shades to spice up your sexy times then—”

Spencer begins to laugh. You turn to face him, in disbelief that he can laugh at your mortification.

“Trust me, Penelope,” he says, “we don’t need 50 Shades to spice up our sex lives.”

“Spencer!” You can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth right now. Penelope looks as if she’s hearing the greatest gossip scandal the world has ever produced.

“50 Shades is tame compared to us.”

“What?!” a third voice enters the conversation. Emily and JJ enter the kitchenette. Emily looked a bit confused, JJ looks just about ready to shit on you too.

You hide your face in your hands, trying to hide away from Spencer’s laughter. Emily, JJ, and Penelope start to bounce comments and choice words between the three of them. You hear words such as ‘unbelievable’, ‘kinky’, and the real kicker, ‘Dr. Reid will see you now’. You want to dig yourself into a hole.

Hands grip your hips, squeezing in silent comfort. Without removing your hands from your face, you mumble, “This is all your fault.” Spencer laughs once more, hands squeezing your hips one more time before he turns to pick up his coffee mug.

He moves to leave the kitchen, turning to you with a smug look on his face before he says, “Laters, baby.”

You refuse to acknowledge the three ladies descending on you like a pack of wolves.

taglist: @i-live-in-spite @khxna

[mouthfullofmunson]

After work

Summary: Eddie has another late night at work and needs to unwind. Some cute domestic fluffiness with lots of smut ❤️‍🔥

The apartment is dark with a light flown from the television static that’s been on for the past hour and a half.

The door finally cracks open after being sealed shut all day, the hinges hissing almost like they are relieved to finally stretch. The smack of boots on the floor introduced a new sound in the apartment other than static rolling and stove burners hissing from pasta boiling over. “Hey,” Eddie half whispers, his body achy and sore from being bent over tattooing all day.

“Hi baby.” Y/n gives a sleepy smile to her boyfriend. No matter how many times he’s told her not to wait up on late nights she always does anyways. “Dinner is done.” He gives her a small smile, tucking his boots under the little bench at the entrance before rubbing the kinks out of his neck. “Sounds perfect, thank you sweetheart.” He creeps over to Y/n, wrapping his arms around her waist and sitting his head on her shoulder. He inhales her scent, appreciating the soft power smell coming from her skin. She smells like home.

“TV is out again.” She mentions while rubbing his back. He nods, letting out a sigh before pulling away from her. “I’m going to shower, I’ll be back.” He slaps the top of the television as he walks back to their shower, a random film coming on and filling the room with a better background noise than what was previously on. “I’ll be here.” She softly calls from the kitchen, waiting to hear the water fall from the shower head.

Fifteen minutes later Eddie walks into the room, a gray towel wrapped around his waist as his long hair drips down onto the floor. “How was your shower?” He wraps his arms around her waist from behind, his skin still warm from the undoubtedly scalding hot shower water. “Relaxing.” He presses a kiss to the skin of her neck, trailing them down her arm while she tries to fold clothes.

“Yeah?” He nods, threading his fingers with hers as he pulls her around to his front. He gives a quick nod before pressing his lips to hers. He basks in the sweet warmth of her mouth on his, how delicately she kisses him like he might just break. Eddie can't help but softly laugh in her mouth at the thought. “What?” he pulls back with a tiny smirk on his face. “Nothing, sweetheart.” his hands fall to her hips where her shirt ends, his thumbs pushing it up.

“What about dinner?” Y/n asks, her arms wrapping around his neck.

“My dinner is right here” he softly jokes, pulling her shirt over her head to reveal her soft bare skin under it. The smile doesn’t leave his face, his cold hand coming to her warm breasts, his thumbs rubbing against the sensitive buds. “My pretty girl, huh? You’re so gorgeous.” Y/n’s cheeks heat up, avoiding eye contact. No matter how long they’ve been together she never gets less shy; his words always have the same effect on her.

He leads her closer to the bed, dropping his towel and laying back on the bed before he pats his thighs.

They softly laugh as they both struggle to pull down her panties, hushed whispers about how it would’ve been smarter to do it before they got on the bed.

Y/n straddles his waist, her heat hovering above him. Eddie’s hand slips down, checking if she’s wet before he slides his fingers inside of her carefully, softly grinding his palm into her clit. He watches her face, paying attention to how she reacts, her breath hitching, her chests rapidly rising and falling, her eyes blinking hard to try to stay open. He pulls his fingers out of her, sliding them into his mouth to taste her. “Tastes sweeter than ever, baby.” His hand comes back up, brushing her cheek before his thumb softly pulls at her bottom lip.

“Why don’t you put me inside? I know you want it.” She works slowly, her hand wrapping around his pink cock and pumping him a few times before lining him up and sinking down onto his big cock.

She whimpers, her mouth falling open at the feeling of him throbbing inside of her. “Fuck, sweetheart. You know how to ride me so well.” His thumb rubs her clit, making her shudder. She bounces on his cock, clenching around her. He sits up, filling her even more while making her gasp, a sob of pleasure leaving her lips. Y/n grips at his shoulder, using Eddie to balance herself. He slides his tongue inside her mouth, their tongue dancing together, Eddie swallowing down all of her moans.

“Youre so fucking wet. I can feel you dripping down me, pretty girl.” He laughs into her mouth, thrusting up into her to get her to moan his name again. His kisses fall to her chest, pressing them randomly until he gets to her nipples. His tongue teases the sensitive skin, teeth softly grazing the buds then slipping one into his mouth. He sucks at her nipple while his hand is still occupied on her clit.

“Eddie” her voice shakes, breathless as his dick hits her g-spot over and over again. “I know” he smiles, just as out of breath as she is.

His head falls back, groaning at the feeling as she picks up pace. “Keep going, sweetheart. I want to fill you up. You know just what to do, fuck.”

She grabs his arm tighter, squelching filling the rooms as she sloppily fucks him.”I’m getting close, Eddie.” she chants a mantra of his name the closer she gets.

They both moan out each other's names, Eddie's hot cum filling her pussy up. Once they calm down he gently pulls himself out of her, letting her flop back on her side of the bed.

Eddie looks over at her, a matching sleepy smile painted on both of their faces. “I love you.” Y/n kisses his hand that pushes her hair out of her face. “I love you too, Ed”

He groans like an old man as he lifts up from his spot, hovering from his spot before he sinks between her legs, admiring his milky cum that leaks from her pretty cunt. “I'll clean you up then it's lights out for me.” he swings her thighs over his shoulders, getting to work.

Sorry about the crappy ending :( I’m excited to get something out again tho! I’m actively working on other things as well and constantly have stuff In my drafts that I add onto all the time so expect that stuff too! Let me know your thoughts!!

:)

[bloodmoonmuses]

stray cats, cold spaghetti | mark lee

genre: mark lee x reader, meet cute, friends to lovers (this is unedited, so forgive any typos! happy valentine's day!)

warnings: mentions of food!

summary: your cat introduces you to your new friend, mark. he's a bit more similar to an actual cat than you initially realized.

You didn’t understand the attachment people had to their pets until this stupid cat showed up. She was a stray, with mangled fur and callous eyes, who popped up some months ago. You had checked for any postings about missing pets, and even asked a few of your neighbors, but no one claimed the ratty thing. It’s not that you disliked animals entirely- you’re not a sociopath. You just aired more on the side of nonchalance. 

The cat could sense this, ever since the first time you two crossed paths. You remember that night so vividly. You couldn’t sleep. You laid on your couch, staring at the ceiling, hoping slumber would whisk you away sooner than later. Just as your eyes began to flutter shut, you heard whining. Visceral, pained whining. At first, you tried to ignore it, but when you heard a sound that suspiciously sounded like a young child, you figured it’d be better to survey the situation just in case. When you opened your door to a begging cat, you sighed. Damn the neighbors for feeding this thing. Now she thinks she owns the place. 

“I bet you’re hungry, huh.” The cat bore into you with bright green eyes, tilting its head as if to say, “Duh!”

So you re-entered your home, Googled “What human food can cats eat?”, and came back with canned tuna and half a carrot. The brat looked right past the carrot and inhaled the tuna, this being its first real meal of the day. In between scarfing down food, the gray cat looked at you inquisitively. “Any more where that came from?” her eyes said. She sidled up next to your leg, purring and rubbing her head against it. 

“That’s all I got,” you had confessed. 

You named her June, since that’s the month she came into your life. Now, you’re best friends. June is actually pretty chill. She likes watching movies with you and, strangely, likes going on walks. After getting her groomed, she’s kinda cute too. You hated to admit it, but you love June. You imagine this is how people felt about their kids- without the initial reluctance of course. June comes and goes as she pleases as if she’s still a stray, but always comes back by dinner time. 

When June isn’t back at her usual time one day in October, you get a bit nervous. She never does this. Before breaking out into a full out panic, you remember she’s got a collar and a tracker from the vet now. No biggie. Opening the app that’s connected to June’s tracker, you meander down the path you usually walk with her when it’s warmer out. When you’re a few blocks from your place, you see her, relief flooding your system. Then you realize there’s a man petting her.

“Junie! June!” You run up to her, taking her into your arms. You snuggle her into a tight embrace, planting a kiss on her head. You’re so caught up in your reunion with June that you forget about the stranger standing in front of you. Oh yeah. You should probably say something. His hair is somewhere in between auburn and brown, making his face look incredibly warm. You hold June a bit tighter.

“Cute cat,” the stranger says. His voice is a bit hoarse. “Thought she was a stray before I saw the collar.” Um, okay? June’s a little rough around the edges, but she’s clearly cared for. 

“Yeah, she’s mine. Do you, like, follow strays around in your free time?” you ask with a bite to your tone. 

“Do you let your pet wander around like a stray in your free time?” Fair, you think, but still rude.

“She’s a free spirit,” you contest. 

“So you let her wander.” 

“This is the first time she hasn’t come home for dinner. Our relationship is built mostly on my ability to provide her food- which works for me.” You’re not sure why you’re explaining your relationship with your cat. Who cares what this guy thinks?

June jumps out of your arms, back to the ground, and walks up to the stranger’s legs. He bends down to resume petting her. From his crouched stance, he looks into your eyes. The eye contact makes you shiver.  

“She’s sweet,” he says. “What’s her name?” 

“June. She’s a charmer- and incredibly manipulative. She probably thought she could swindle you out of some food.”

“Do I look easy to take advantage of?” He asks.

You assess him. Oversized hoodie, baggy pants, sneakers covered in scuffs... Maybe he’s a dancer. Or skateboards. You’d be into that, you think. Skater boys weren’t really your thing, but they could be- as long as it’s him. If anything, the guy just looks… cozy, all bundled up like this. There’s a tinge of red on the tip of his nose from the nippy air. He’s smirking to himself at his (flirtatious) question, making his cheek look plump. You want to pinch it. 

You want to make him as warm as his eyes make you feel. 

You realize you’ve probably been staring. Geez, what was his question? Oh yeah. “Yeah. Like a pushover,” you say. “In the best way, of course.”

“Ouch.”

“Only a real sap would fall victim to June’s powers. She can sense lackeys. No offense.” 

“I’m gonna choose to believe that means you think I’m a nice guy.”

“Nice enough.”

“I’ll take it.” The two of you stand in awkward silence for a few moments, June having finally grown bored of her new friend. The guy stands from his crouching position and sways a bit as he awaits your next move.

“Well, like I said, this little lady was late for dinner. So if it’s okay with you,” you pick up June, then continue your thought, “We’ll be heading out.” 

As you turn to walk back home, the stranger says, “I… didn’t catch your name, by the way.” 

Right. You introduced June, but not yourself. Go figure. “Oh. I’m ___.” 

“Cool. I’m Mark.” He looks like a ‘Mark’-boyish and chipper.

“Nice to meet you, Mark. Well, have a nice night.” You start to walk again, but Mark interjects yet again.

“The sun’s setting,” he blurts it out like he’s trying to rid his mouth of the words as quickly as possible. “Can I walk you home?” Then he amends, “I live nearby, so I know it gets kinda dark in this neighborhood. Not many street lights.”

You think about it. You’re not getting any serial killer vibes, plus he’s already passed the June test. (And if you're being honest, he's very cute.) “Um, sure. Thanks.”

The two of you walk in silence, save for June’s purring. When you make it to your apartment building, you stop. Your gut is twisting, mind fixating on the warmth radiating off Mark’s body. Your fingertips are whirring with electricity. You have a bad idea. 

“Would you maybe… wanna come in for dinner?” Mark turns to look at you.  “I never really learned how to cook for one person, so I always have a bunch of leftovers.” 

It’s a lie, but not entirely. You like to cook enough food for the entire week. Mark doesn't need to know this, you conclude.

Mark nods to himself. “Uh, sure. I could eat.”

As soon as you place June down in your apartment, she sprints to her food bowl. Silly girl. 

“Sorry about the mess. Wasn’t expecting company,” you say. “I hope you like spaghetti.”

“Love it,” Mark responds. (You’d later find out this was a lie.)

“Perfect.”

That’s how you and Mark became friends- similarly to how June came into your life. You fed him. In all honesty, he wasn’t that fond of your spaghetti. He just liked the way you smiled each time he took a bite. The two of you continued to get to know one another while making food. Neither of you are great cooks, so you usually team up. It’s become a love language of sorts, sending recipes back and forth to try. You look forward to eating with Mark more than anything these days.

You’re more than aware of your underlying feelings for Mark, but you’ve managed to temper them. You don’t want to scare him off, but the tension is relentless. You’re making tiramisu and your shoulders touch. You’re piping flowers on a cupcake while Mark pulls tendrils of hair away from your face. You’re whisking meringue into stiff peaks while Mark hums to June in the living room. It’s heart achingly domestic. 

Oftentimes you imagine Mark as your husband. In your daydreams the two of you are wearing matching aprons, flour dusting his nose. He kisses you, a fit of giggles attacking your system. You’re absolutely smitten and unabashedly so.

 In reality, today is Valentine’s Day. Mark suggests he comes over and makes pizza. You don’t think Mark realizes what day it is until you suggest making your pizzas heart shaped. He says he forgot to buy his friend Jaehyun a birthday gift.

“This is, like, kinda romantic.” If being covered in pizza sauce and flour is romantic, then yes. This was very romantic. You have a nice spread here-  fresh basil, mozzarella, alfredo sauce, vodka sauce, roma tomatoes… It smells so nice. Mark keeps sneaking chunks of cheese into his mouth. He looks like a little mouse. June is fast asleep on the couch. You’ve finally perfected the heart shape of your dough, and begin to spread alfredo sauce on your pizza. 

“Your parameters for romance are very strange, Mark Lee.”

“If you close your eyes, it’s like we’re in Italy.” When he says things like this, they only fuel your daydreams. You blame the flush of your face on the preheating oven.

“Venice, I hope.”

“Of course.”

Mark’s pizza looks more like an anatomical heart than the kind you’d doodle in a notebook. He scoffs when you tell him this, feigning offense.

“Should I remind you of how your cinnamon rolls came out a few weeks ago?” They were awful. At a certain point, you had given up and rolled them into balls. 

“My cinnamon rolls/balls were innovative and transcendent.” 

“I don’t even know how you messed them up,” Mark says as he puts the pizzas in the oven, “We bought pre-made dough.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

When the pizzas are done baking, the two of you sit at the dinner table. It’s a different feel for the two of you, seeing as you usually eat together on the couch.  You take a bite of your pizza, savoring the taste.

“Not bad. Wanna taste?” Mark nods. Instinctively, the two of you swap plates, trying each others’ creations.

“I think you’re better at making savory foods.”

“I agree.”

You and Mark continue to eat your pizzas, taking gulps of your respective drinks in between bites. Beer for Mark, white wine for you. Jazz plays softly from your shitty phone speaker, and June’s snores fill in the gaps of silence. After a bit, Mark’s face goes red from the alcohol. You liked seeing him tipsy. He gets all wavy and fluid, unconsciously swaying side to side like a daisy in the wind. Your face feels fuzzy from the wine and you find yourself biting your tongue. 

You’ve had to be more conscious of your alcohol intake around Mark lately. It felt as if at any moment, your love for him would simply become unbearable. Recently, it’s been hard to just look at him- even while sober. Tonight, apparently, you threw caution to the wind. 

“Mark?” you say.

“Hmm….”  He’s drifting away, lethargic from the food and beer. You repeat his name again, this time getting his full attention. When his glassy eyes meet yours, the force behind them knocks the wind out of you.

“Yes?” says Mark. He takes another sip of beer. 

You can’t do this, you think, backtracking entirely. The lie escapes as a garbled mess of words: “Forgot what I was gonna say.” You take a nervous gulp of your wine.

Mark slams his fist on the table, in a drunken stupor. The sound startles you, but there’s no malice behind his motion. In fact, he’s laughing to himself. “Bullshit.”

“I really did lose my train of thought. Maybe it’ll come back to me.”

“I know you’re lying. Like you lied about that cold ass spaghetti you used to lure me in!” he says, referencing the night you met. The spaghetti wasn’t that cold…

“I really did make too much spaghetti that night! Plus, you kept June safe. It was the least I could do!” 

Mark begins to gather your plates and cups, walking over to the kitchen to place them in the sink. As he stands, he says, “I won’t force you to say it, but I know you’re lying.” 

Then he moves to run the faucet. The rushing water fills the silence like TV static, buzzing and itching in your ears. Your throat is burning. You want to talk to him openly, honestly- but something’s stopping you. Mark washes the dishes wordlessly. With his back turned to you, his words hang heavy in the air. Mark never pries but simultaneously knows you so intimately. You love being known by him. You love knowing him. 

You simply love him.

“Why’d you walk me home that night?” Your voice barely pierces the air. The question practically squeaks out of you.

“What?” Mark turns off the facet and dries his hands on a towel, turning to look at you.

“The night we met. Why’d you walk me home?”

He contemplates the question for a moment, closing his eyes to visualize the night. Then he says, “Wanted to make sure you got home safely.” 

The moment is delicate and fragile. You’re scared that if not nimble enough, if not cradled with the utmost gentleness, it will shatter. You proceed with caution.

“Mark?” At the sound of his name, Mark returns to his seat at the dining table.

“I think… I love you.” Mark chuckles. “Don’t laugh!”

“You think?” he says, now breaking out into a full-bodied laugh.

“Yeah. I think so.” 

“I love you too.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “...I think.”

“Very funny, asshole.” 

Mark reaches over the table and places a chaste kiss upon your lips. “Okay, I think I’m a little more sure now,” he says.

“Need some more reassurance?” you ask. Mark nods. 

You lean in to kiss him this time, and just before your lips touch, you hear whining. You pull back to look down, seeing June curled up beneath your chair. Her timing is always impeccable. The two of you giggle, sealing the moment with a fervent kiss. You melt into his touch, the elation coursing through your veins. When you come up for air, you meet Mark’s eyes.  

“What?” he says. “I’m a better kisser than you thought?” 

“I was just wondering… you’re still gonna wash the dishes, right?”

[roshellow29]

Idk why but I feel the need to rant about trolls band together so here's a warning for SPOILERS.

TL;DR I'll be talking shit about major conflict parts in the movie that I wished were handled differently >:((((

Please take caution (and a deep breath) reading this because I'm very bad at making sense when I ramble ok? Ok les go

OK SO.

The movie was great, loved the songs and I enjoyed branches family shenanigans, including supportive girlfriend poppy I've been WAITING FOR THIS (ifykyk)

But here are some things that bothered me that they could've definitely done differently

1. JOHN DORYS ENTIRE CHARACTER ARC- jd is great. He's actually my favorite! He's a cringefail boyfailiure and I love him for it. In the movie, his whole thing was that he was basically an ass who didn't listen to his siblings and always pressured and bossed them around. Cool, that's established. What's not is, Why??? It's really the whole "perfect family harmony" thing I guess.

Because later in the conflict he says that it was "hard being responsible for four younger siblings" (which bitch me too were litteraly the same) and that all they needed to be was perfect. what I don't understand is why? Why the whole perfect harmony? Where did it come from? They didn't say it was a big thing or that other bands did it? Would it get them more fame? Would it mean that they're perceived as the perfect brothers or something?? Also, why wasn't the grandmother more involved with the kids?? Did she pressure him to care for his siblings because their parents weren't involved or something? That's just one thing that's not really explained to me ig 🤔

And the whole thing that bothers me with jd is that he doesn't do the cliché "branch I'm sorry I was an asshole brother, and I wanna be a better troll to you and our bros. And blah blah blah" like they skip that entire potential jd apology??? I was expecting that with a hug?? I WANTED A HUG WITH BRANCH AND JD OK. He genuinely cares about him!!! You can see it, he really does. He's just bad at communicating. Like extremely - so they skipped that and just made him go, "We'll follow ur lead branch," and that's it.😐 no apology. No proper character development. Just him going "ok yeah I'll follow u one time." LIKE HUH. (This also includes the other siblings cuz they dipped on branch the same, and none of them said sorry!!)

OH and another thing. WHY WERE CLAY AND BRUCE SUCH ASSHOLES TO JD. ESPECIALLY CLAY. like I completely get it, he was an asshole, he pressured and bossed you around, we know that. But that was 20 PLUS YEARS AGO??? Like no you don't have to hug him but damn why r yall so cold???

I'm thinking that because I'm p sure they went no contact at all after they broke up. So how r they so sure he's still the way he was before?? (I mean they were kinda right but still) like you could've been super happy and then get disappointed later when trying to practice hitting the note. It would've made more sense to me idk. Like it just bothers me that they straight up ignore him- it's mean! (But I can't be too mad I mean they all have their reasons ig 🙄)

While we're on the topic of the family, on to my next point.

2. ROSIEPUFF AND HER DEATH. I think it was handled HORRIBLY. Like the whole movie I was just like "plz don't skip over it plz don't skip over it." And then branch drops the bomb on them right (which still caught me off guard like damn) and THEYRE DUMBFOUNDED, GREAT. And then after that there's NOTHING. NOTHING!?!??!?!?!? they don't mention it they don't apologize to branch for what he went through they don't take two seconds to mourn her they're just like "wait she dead?" And then fucking move on like. Why???? they don't question how, they don't question when branch was living in solidarity for 20 years, nothing. and I'm mad as fuck because that was part of Branches entire CHARACTER ARC in the first movie!! They don't mention he was gray they don't mention he didn't sing they don't mention anything. He went through that for 20 YEARS, ALONE. and they don't mention it. I rlly hated that- like they rlly didn't care.

Anyway.

Third smaller topic that I thought was gonna happen

3. I thought clay was gonna end up going, "actually yknow what, I AM fun" and then embrace himself because hes most definitely goofy. But nah they left him trying so hard to convince himself he's serious, and tbh he just came across as branch 2.0.

Alright moving on!!

4. I'm mad they didn't include a little flashback of viva and poppy being inseparable until the escape happened. Like I know popps was an infant but at the same time troll kids talk the day they're born, so it would've been nice to see them be together at least once before they separated.

Also.

I WANNA DECK PEPPY IN THE FACE. you lost your daughter and instead of MOURNING her and spreading her memory you decided to act like she didn't EXIST. WHY. like he was obviously depressed and sad but why didn't you tell poppy stories of her when she was a kid or something? And keep her memory alive??

(And sure. There's the thing with "They weren't gonna give poppy a sister until now" but I feel like they could've at least made poppy remember a small flashback is what I'm saying.)

Idk. I just wish it was handled differently like why is peppy keeping so much shit to himself lmao.

Oh yeah and then there's just my little nitpick and it's that I wish they included the troll leaders in the wedding sequence ok they're all friends they should've been invited ok I just wanted to see them again 😭(totally not saying thus cuz world tour is my fav but I am)

Anyway, yeah! I think this is just what mainly bothers me about the movie. I just feel like the conflict was handled poorly. But either than that it's still a good watch. I like it a lot :D

If you read this far, God damn you like to read, and thanks for dealing with my stupid thoughts!

If not, that's OK lol.

[buried-in-autumn-leaves]

college Nate and Everett please please please :3

LMAO HIII <33

I was just yapping ab this in the notes of one of my other posts but college is when they both have to admit that not even THEY can handle each other. This post will be formatted as a badly written and unedited drabble fic 🥰 Mostly from Eve's perspective, so like some of my story for Nate gets lost here but I'll probably post about that at some point.

(Content Warning for Mentions of Drug Use) (It's just weed, Nate has a bad experience and talks about some of the symptoms that are overwhelming him.)

It didn't surprise anyone when Everett and Nate end up going to college together– No way Nate was going to let his best friend NOT go to college, it was important. Them going to the same school would just make it easier for Nate to keep an eye on him.

They weren't expecting it to be so much different.

Nate is busy more these days. Everett sees him sometimes, hunched over his desk as he falls asleep. He hears him leave before sunrise, not bothering to wave– He won't wave back anyway.

It's embarrassing, the way he misses the way Nate used to look after him. Things as simple as waking HIMSELF up instead of waking to Nate shaking his shoulder feels bitter.

And then the grades start coming back.

He hides them– Obviously. He can't admit to Nate that he's failing, can't admit that he's probably going to get expelled by the end of the year. It would be one thing if he was just slacking. Had he been failing due to just not doing the work, maybe it would've FELT less like failure. But this? To genuinely be trying and just not being good enough? That hurt.

He makes the decision to drop out within maybe four months of starting– It's probably longer than anyone else thought he would last. He swears he can hear Shiloh's god awful passive remarks all the way in the dean's office.

"What are you doing?"

"...packing."

This... this is probably his fault too, huh? He could've warned told him. Could've torn Nate away from his notes and books long enough to say something– ANYTHING. Maybe, if he'd done that, there could've been a proper goodbye.

But like we said, Everett isn't smart.

"Please just stop yelling-"

"What is wrong with you?! All the work you did- Hell, all the work I did!"

He argues back, of course– He's still himself. He yells. He rants about how he'd never wanted to go here in the first place, about how if Nate really cared he would've noticed how much he was trying, really trying.

When Everett storms out, he tries not to think about the fact that his entire world just collapsed underneath him. He calls his mom, convinces her that Nate is this awful monster who only cares about himself. She defends him, to his bitternes, because how couldn't she?

Everybody loved Nate.

When he goes back to the dorm that night to get his things, Nate isn't there.

He'll pretend that doesn't upset him either.

It's almost six months later when his phone rings.

'Unknown Caller' my ass, as if he could ever fucking forget that one. It's practically engraved in his brain: One of two numbers he ever bothered to memorize. He tells himself that unless Nate is on the line to APOLOGISE, he's hanging up. He doesn't quite believe himself anymore.

"What the fuck are you rambling about?"

"I can't- They said it would help but- Shit, I can't breathe right-"

Now, whatever you were thinking, Everett Gray has a backbone. He does not tell his friends that he just remembered something he had to do for his mom. He does not leave the party in a rush he struggles to keep under control. He does not sneak back onto that hell of a college campus and into Nate's dorm. He does not acknowledge the fact that his stomach is in knots. He does not spend that night sitting at Nate's side, letting him lay his head in his lap and reminding him that no, the room is not spinning. You're safe.

Because why would he do that?

Nate is... less than pleased when he wakes up. It's Saturday, he has no excuse to immediately leave, avoiding the awful awkward conversation that's staring him down right now.

Nate Lawson does not ASK for things– He takes them. He commands any room he's in. He knows how to control people. He does not beg.

And yet...

"I want you to stay."

"We're not good for each other. For anyone, really."

"I could be better."

And maybe that's not what they said. Maybe there was more arguing, more yelling. Maybe someone cries. Maybe they don't speak at all, too awkward to start. (After all, remember who we're talking about.) But they'll understand each other.

They always have.

[that-stray-bird]

The Outworld Melodia

Tired from days of toil, seeking ways to cope, Old friends greet with smiles, rekindling hope. Yet, as memories bloom from the days of yore, A ticking bomb sets off, and peace is no more.

Warnings: Dazai going missing. Mentions of being homeless, struggling with food, mentions of robbing, some fluff, wholesome things, and reader being done with bombs and shit.

Chapter 6

------------------------------------------

A yawn escaped you as you stretched your arms and shoulders. You heard pops and snaps and tried to relax to continue the task before you, which was writing and looking through some files. It was not the most exciting task, especially when you were failing to keep up a better sleeping schedule, so your interest and energy levels were not at their best. 

"Has anyone seen Dazai? I can't find him at home or anywhere," Atsushi questioned, noticing the absence of the brunette-haired man, who usually would be up to cause Kunikida a headache or call someone to help him out of his latest suicide attempt. 

“He’s probably down in some river again,” Kunikida responded while working on his computer. “Maybe he got himself stuck in jail,” Kenji said while admiring a pot of plant. “My guess is he’s off with a woman,” Ranpo added while seated in front of a window and probably eating more snacks. 

“Aren’t you worried?” Atsushi questioned, rather stunned by their lack of care toward the suicidal man’s disappearance. 

“That man's ability to avoid death works at nightmarish proficiency,” Kunikida stated. “Maybe after all the suicide attempts, he’s as lively as ever,” Kenji added. 

You glanced at the gray-haired boy, who seemed really hesitant and worried about the agency’s suicidal maniac. “Give him a day or two…” you started. “Dazai can look after himself if he’s in trouble, and if he’s okay, he will appear sooner or later. If he doesn’t, then it's time to worry about him,” you said, trying to sound assuring. "Okay— if you say so," Atsushi said after listening to you. 

Your eyes then notice a familiar face walking into the office. “Oh, hey! You’re finally out of the death bed!” you announced his presence to the others. 

“Huh, looks like you’re back on your feet,” Kunikida stated. “Yeah…” Tanizaki rubbed the back of his head. “All thanks to Miss Yosano’s treatment,” he smiled. 

“Of course…” Kunikida fixed his glasses. “How many times?” he asked, and Tanizaki became pale. 

“Fou... four times," Tanizaki quivered on the ground like a traumatized child. You looked at the ginger with pity while Atsushi was still confused. 

Your phone vibrated on your desk, showing a text message. You grabbed it to check and saw it was a message from an old friend. 

"(Name)! Long time no see! I hope you have been faring well. Say, would you like to meet up and get some coffee? I have some news about your robber," – Yours truly, Markel. 

From the mention of the robber, the fatigue you felt vanished completely, and you didn't waste a second to send a reply, agreeing to meet with him. 

"Did something come up? You seem much more energized than seconds ago," Atsushi asked after noticing the sudden change in your mood. "Yeah. I got a text from a friend I hadn't seen in a while. He asked me to have coffee and share some news," you shared with a smile. "Oh, that's nice," Atsushi smiled back. 

"Now, this is a surprise!" Yosano suddenly wrapped her hands around your shoulders. You nearly yelped from her sudden appearance and her weight against your back but didn’t mind it since you were used to her initiating physical contact. 

"You usually avoid going out, and now here you are willing to go get coffee with... what's his name?" she leaned down to take a closer look at your phone. "Markel?" she grinned at you. 

You rolled your eyes at her. "Markel is just a friend, Yosano. Don't entertain those ideas in your head," you said as you pushed your phone into your pocket and began cleaning up your desk. "And besides, having coffee with an old acquaintance is better than skulking about files and whatever Kunikida had added to my work list," you stated. 

“Is it really okay for you to just leave suddenly?” Atsushi questioned. “It’s fine. Since Kunikida is not here anymore,” you replied. “What do you mean? He’s right—eh?!” Atsushi finally noticed the absence of three other people in the office, a habit they did to avoid whatever Yosano would get in her mind. 

“By the way, Atsushi. I need someone to go shopping with, and since you’re the only one available,” Yosano said. Atsushi looked nervous. “Eh? Do I really have to?” he questioned. “It will be fine. We won’t be doing anything violent,” Yosano smiled. “Yosano… you’re scaring him,” you gave her a slight glare. 

“Anyway, my destination is near the shopping center. Mind if I join you for the time being?” you asked. “Yes, please!” Atsushi replied without hesitation. “Oh, that would be wonderful indeed. Well, let’s not waste any time,” Yosano said as you all began leaving the agency. 

You nudged Atsushi as you walked together. “Hey, you will be okay. Yosano might have a reputation, but she can be pleasant when you hang around enough. You just need to avoid asking too many questions and avoid accidental confrontation,” you explained. “Okay, I will.” Atsushi nodded. 

“You know, I think this day will be a peaceful one, no drama, no Port Mafia, and especially no bombs. We already had too much of that this month,” you said. “I… I hope you’re right,” Atsushi replied as you left the agency. 

—

You bid farewell to Atsushi and Yosano at the entrance of the shopping center and began making your way through the city. Yokohama was a large city, and usually, you do not dare to wander there alone, but luckily, you knew several different routes to the place that had helped you a lot in the past, Markel's music store, The Monedero's instruments. 

The streets became familiar to you, and when you finally saw the shop and the cafe on the opposite side of the driveway – you noticed a familiar man waiting outside, dressed in a fine outfit and smoking a cigarette. 

When he saw you, he took out his cigarette and grinned. "(Name)! Good to see you!" he declared as you approached him. "Hi, Markel. You look lively as ever," you greeted him. 

"How have you been doing? Has the armed detective agency been treating you well? Has anything interesting happened during your time there?” Markel questioned. 

“I’ve been doing okay, and the people there are very good to me. However, too many things had happened for me to share in a single sentence,” you replied, and he laughed. 

“Well, let’s go inside and enjoy some coffee and simple delicacies while you tell me. I am very interested to know what you have experienced in these past years,” Markel patted you toward the cafe with a grin, and you entered without much thought. 

—

With Markel’s insistence to buy for you, you two ordered coffee and some pastries before seating yourself at a table, sharing the latest news and rumors before finally receiving your orders from the waitress. 

“Thank you, Markel, for buying these. You really didn’t have to since I’m no longer struggling with money. I have more than enough to buy my own things,” you took a sip from your coffee. “Then how about for old times' sake? I always had a soft spot for all of you,” Markel grinned with a dismissing hand. You smiled at his gesture. 

“So, what did you find out about the robber?” you asked. 

“Oh! I nearly forgot. One moment, please!” Markel took out his phone. You waited patiently as he then showed you a picture. “My friend a few days ago had a robbery incident. Now, I am not sure if this is the robber you are looking for, but my friend then said the little rat managed to escape by vanishing in thin air,” Markel explained as you stared at the picture, which was taken of a surveillance screen, and there on the screen was a hooded person, running away from the shop. “Now, that’s what got my attention and made me suspect if this is the world hopper you talked about,” he said, pulling his phone away. 

“Of course, the robber managed to escape, and no one knows where,” Markel said with a dramatic sigh. “But I thought this would be something worth mentioning to you,” he glanced at you. 

"Does your friend really have no idea where this robber might have vanished?" you questioned.

“Well, my friend was very pissed about the whole incident, so he’s already looking into it. He’s someone who doesn’t let these kinds of things go easily. But, I am not certain if he will be successful with his investigation,” Markel explained.

You remained silent for a moment, thinking. 

"Thank you, Markel. This is the first clue I have heard in years," you stated. 

"I wonder. (Name), you work in an agency filled with people, who are specialized in solving cases like murder and disappearances. Why haven’t you asked for their help?” Markel questioned with a curious look. 

"They... don't know where I am from yet. I don’t know how they would react, but Dazai has been trying to probe the truth out of me since he has a hunch I am not telling everything," you revealed, holding your coffee. 

"Dazai? Wasn't he that odd fellow Keiji and Tsukiko found stuck in the trash container behind the shop months ago?" Markel questioned,” If I remember correctly, he tried to jump off the roof,” he said.  

You groaned at the memory. "Yeah. That Dazai," you confirmed. 

"Not to mention. The Port Mafia had been trying to abduct the agency's newest member. He has an ability that allows him to turn into a white tiger. Someone had put a bounty over his head, and because of that, he hasn't been allowed much peace," you explained. "Oh, that is very unfortunate," Markel shared his pity. "Everyone knows if you end up as a target to those ruffians, they will not leave you alone," he added. 

"I know this might be a lot to ask, but since you have more dealings even in illegal matters. Could you look out for who announced the bounty on my friend's head?" you asked. "I usually stay away from those matters unless I really have to, but if I end up finding something. I'll let you know," Markel said. "Thank you, Markel," you stated. 

"Anytime, Chica. Remember that The Northern Light will always look out for their own,” Markel smiled. He then looked over your shoulder, and you heard the bell at the cafe’s door ring. 

An arm suddenly wrapped around your shoulder and pulled you against another presence. "(Name)!" one of your old friends, Misaki, screamed and hugged you tightly. Momentarily, you struggled to breathe while patting her arm in a greeting. "It's been forever! Markel! Why didn't you say you invited (Name) over?!" she looked at him accusingly. Keiji and Tsukiko then walked over. Misaki let you free from her death grip. 

"Sorry! She got excited when she saw (Name). Nice to see you again, (Name). How have you been doing?" Keiji asked. You smiled. "I've been doing okay. How about you?" you questioned. 

“We have been doing well, though it’s been more quiet since you left,” Keiji answered. “It’s really good to see again, (Name),” Tsukiko smiled. You looked at her with a fond smile. “Me too, Tsuki,” you said. 

"Hey! You should consider visiting us more often!" Misaki ruffled your hair, and you awkwardly chuckled. "That would be a wonderful idea! (Name), if you're interested, I have some places and gigs for your skills," Markel smiled. 

“I… think about it,” you said. 

"Oh yeah, you became a member of the Armed Detective Agency. You got to tell us all about them. Are they really ability users like us? What kind of actions have you seen?!" Misaki asked as Tsukiko sat beside her and Keiji beside Markel. "Yes, they are ability users, but I prefer to avoid unnecessary action,” you answered. "Oh, come on! Tell us more," Misaki begged. "If you don't mind. I would be interested to know too," Tsukiko said with a curious gaze. 

"Well..." you looked at all of them. They all looked back at you with eager and curious gazes, and Markel was just sitting in the corner, obviously not planning to help you out of the spotlight. "I guess I can," you relented. 

"Yes! Tell us everything!" Misaki nudged at you. "Okay, calm down. Where should I start... Okay, here's what happened last month..." You started talking about past events. Your former boss and friends listened, asking questions from here and then while enjoying coffee and pastries with you. Your visit lasted longer than planned, but you didn’t mind since it felt nice conversing with them after such a long time. 

—

You walked down the streets. After conversing and promising to keep in contact with your old friends, you were in high spirits. What you once thought would be a gloomy day had transformed into a truly good one.

You used to wander alone, traveling from city to city, desperately trying to keep yourself fed by performing with your violin as a street artist. You were homeless, and by fate, you were found by Markel, who was amazed by your talent and decided to take you in, introducing you to your friends. 

Your friends welcomed you with open arms, and together, you formed a band called The Northern Light. You couldn't thank them enough for the support they had given you. They were ability users as well and part of a bigger community that was full of warm-hearted people. They were the first to introduce you to the world of ability users when you discovered your ability for the first time. 

You glanced at the picture you had asked Markel to share with you. Several thoughts ran through your mind as you tried to find similarities between the robber and the one who brought you into this world. 

It was unclear, but it was the first clue.

Your goal to find them might be a desperate one. The robber could be anywhere since they had the ability to travel between worlds, and you knew nothing about them, except that they wore a hood and stole your wallet. 

Markel's words about asking for the agency's help lingered in your mind. Should you reveal the truth and ask for their help? It would definitely help stop Dazai from nagging you for good. But what if they call you a liar? What if they don’t react well like you hoped? What if they start treating you like a delusional? 

Releasing a sigh, you put your phone away. Too many thoughts– you will think about it once you have to cross that bridge. 

You started your journey back to the agency, but then your ears caught the sound of a train, and a huge explosion happened at the train track. Stopping in your tracks, you watched as the cloud of smoke cleared up and noticed the state of the train. It looked like it had been completely ravaged by bombs. Weren’t Atsuhi and Yosano supposed to be on that train? 

In the distance, you could notice two figures floating above the water after the bomb went off. 

“Oh, come on!” you groaned in rising frustration. 

It was the third time Yokohama had been targeted by bombs. Couldn't the Port Mafia or other crime organizations come up with something different once in a while?

[yuraimi-lee-bunny]

Same anon that asked about gray's analysis, just wanted to say that it's nice to see that you're writeing "the 13 reason's why" inspired fic, I remember you said that it was based on a speech the boy (forgot his name) wrote to hannah. Looking forward to it

would also like to share some anti-rc arguments as you were asking

Gray groomed carmen.

Carmen is trying to 'fix' gray.

Gray chose a corprate job over his little sister. Would also like to rant about the last argument you taked about refering to gray keeping quiet for six months(hope you don't mind) can I just point out that carmen kept quiet about gray's brainwashing for 18 months, that's 3 times the amount gray did and you don't see anyone talking about that, the hypocrisy. It's also important to understand why they did that, they've both wanted to not be on opposing sides, carmen see's gray's date as a "second chance" before realising that she could gray in danger and walks away same goes for gray who after carmen is brainwashed doesn't do anything for 6 months and then does something when carmen is awarded faculty and is going to kill shadowsan. I feel like a lot of people would just say that what carmen did was fine since gray wasn't a criminal anymore but gray was living a life without choosing it/being himself and that's still wrong, that's something they're totally gonna be trauma bonding and apologising about. Anyways best of luck on the fic and hope you have a great day.

Hi! Oh my! Did I comment on my idea here? I didn't remember it (it must have been in 2021 or 2022 that I mentioned) Thank you very much for your support and desire to read it!

About the other reasons why they come to deny/hate Red Crackle: hmmmmmm let me comment on it point by point.

1.- huh?… how? when? like why? There is no reason or proof for that. The word "groomed" shouldn't be used lightly.

2.- Carmen? That Carmen? Our Carmen Sandiego? The one that in the second chapter, basically because she didn't agree to return to Vile, 5 minutes later, kicked Gray in the face and handed him over to Chase? Are we talking about the same Carmen that in Chapter 4 of the fourth season, when Gray told her that he was returning to VILE and asked her not to continue messing to them, she immediately blew up half a laboratory and ran away, thus saying goodbye to Gray?

……..let me first laugh freely.

I guess since there is no real reason to deny Red Crackle, they have no choice but to lie.

3.- ……………………. Carmen left Gray, her older brother, to make her own path. Gray chose to let Carmen free because of her criminal career (and because of threats than mere pleasure). Everyone chooses her path…

And about you rant. I somewhat agree. I mean, Carmen didn't do anything for 18 months because she didn't really know what VILE had done to Gray. I mean, she believed that only Gray had his memory erased from his time in VILE, but not from the change in morals. And yet, Carmen didn't have the tools to do that. And even if she had them, she was going to choose hers well and it was best of her not to make him remember her past with VILE. As for what happened to Gray when Carmen was brainwashed, let's go to the same thing: he may have first thought that it was a "good plan" because FINALLY he wasn't going to be with a high probability of having to face him again Carmen, and that if the Faculty ordered him to "get rid of her" he would have no choice (again, for his life, not for "loyalty" to VILE, that one left when he returned, but again, I will talk about it later in my analysis)

He no longer liked the plan because he saw what happened at the fair (because Gray saw himself in Carmen, he projected himself, but again, I talk about that later in my analysis) he started to take care of her in those 6 months. , but once she became part of the Faculty, she was in their hands and with the rumor about Shadowsan, he had no choice but to take risks.

Both in the ENTIRE SERIES ALWAYS took risks to take care of each other. Yes, some were of dubious actions and morals, but there were no other options. It was what they both had at that moment, for the sake of their own well-being. Why everyone believes that Gray returned to VILE with such pleasure? it's TOO obvious that it wasn't like that, that he only did it out of fear for his life and Carmen didn't do anything in those 18 months because she didn't know the change in morals, she didn't have the tools and for her own good?

Anyway, thanks for your ask! And thanks for your encouragement to my fic!

[helcria]

Sayato’s Story Chapter 1

i had an earlier draft of this but i felt like revamping it and splitting it more efficiently into chapters than i did first time writing it- this feels more prologue-y than anything really so i was torn between calling it chapter 1 or prologue lmfao. anyway i’ve worked on this for over a year now and maybe if i actually start posting chapters it’ll motivate me to actually get this full thing finished. 

this story series is going to get heavy. if you’re particularly sensitive toward the subject matter of bullying/abuse this story may not be for you. if other triggering material comes up in future chapters i will be issuing warnings for the things there, as things like the mention of self-harm and suicidal ideations come up later.

anyway enough preamble. story under the cut!

A fight breaks out in the training grounds; it’s a normal sight for instructor Shirou Katsuragi’s class, admittedly- at least, between this pair of students involved anyway. The rest of the class crowds around the two squabbling kids, eager to witness this mess. Shirou, however, was out on a lunch break on what was the final day of class before their graduation the following week.

A blonde girl had a brunette boy pinned to the ground. He struggled to fight back against her, his frame being quite a bit smaller than hers, so it wasn’t working out well in his favor. “You're so cute when you're pathetic and beaten down like this, Sayato!” The girl sneered.

The boy looked more annoyed by her than anything else and gave a roll of his eyes in response before finally speaking up. 

“Shut it Shiori. The mind games aren’t gonna work, haven’t worked in a long time. Everyone here knows you’re in love with Ak-” A swift punch to the brunette’s face shut him up real quick.

“I can't believe someone as weak as you managed to graduate. I feel sorry for whoever gets stuck on your squad considering you can't even fight back against a girl.” Shiori went to insult and degrade him, trying to move the subject on from Sayato’s earlier remark.

“Maybe if you weren't so heavy, I'd have a chance.” Sayato usually didn’t really care to make disparaging remarks like that about others, but landing a low blow on the vain Shiori was an exception to that.

“You FUCKING ASSHOLE!” Shiori immediately brought her hands toward Sayato’s neck. This went from a simple schoolyard fight to a serious one-sided brawl very quickly. She was already mad about Sayato implying who she had a crush on, but now to have him attack her body image was a step too far. 

A gray-haired kid, one who appeared to look a few years younger than the rest of his peers in the class, ran away from the scene. Other kids stood there, discussing it all amongst themselves in the meantime.

A girl who hadn’t been there however, came to the training grounds to see what was going on after having finished her own lunch. When she came onto the scene, the mood changed immediately. Many of the kids tensed up or took their distance from her. Her name is Hibana Uchiha, and she unfortunately has her sharingan activated at all times, unable to turn it off.. She was seen by many as emotionally unstable and intimidating as a result of this.

Despite her reputation, she knew she had to step in. It’s not like anyone else was going to do a damn thing. They’d rather sit around and talk about how funny it is that Sayato’s getting beat up by a girl or who they think Shiori has a thing for. 

Hibana made her way to the center, trying to pull Shiori off of Sayato and shouting “Stop!”

Shiori did as Hibana said, giving a glare to the Uchiha who decided to butt into the brawl. “Is this any of your business?”

“I’m...I'm sick of the way you pick on people like Kaiko and Sayato! It's awful! You're awful! You think you're better than everyone else and it's tiring! You don't mess with me, probably because you're scared of me just like Akio is, huh?!” As soon as Hibana said that, more whispers and murmurs started. “Now get off of Sayato, or I'll make you.” She growled, tugging at the blonde’s arm. She didn’t know it, but a second tomoe had formed on her sharingan. 

Before Shiori could respond in turn, the gray-haired youngster returned in tow with an older man. “Again? Jeez…” The white-haired instructor looked exasperated. Not the first time he’s seen Shiori and Sayato duke it out, but it is the first time he’s seen Hibana get involved.

“Kids, stop fighting… you’re all technically genin now, can’t you save this for the battlefield?” A half-hearted response. Again, nothing new. He was used to this, and he was definitely over it all.

“Aw Haine, why’d you have to go and snitch like this? The fight was starting to get good!” A slightly older student with face markings complained at the fight being stopped.

The fight broke up, Shiori getting off of Sayato, Hibana letting go of Shiori’s arm and helping Sayato off of the ground, and the kids separating off into different groups to talk amongst their peers.

Sayato was surprised that someone for once had actually come to his defense. He wasn’t exactly well-liked in class. He made no effort to really socialize with others, and treated class as if it were a joke a lot. Still, he managed to figure out the clone jutsu before anyone else in class could, much to the pleasure of Katsuragi who was probably thankful he didn’t have to deal with the class clown for another semester.

“Uh… thanks for getting involved back there…?” He said, a little awkwardly. 

“You don’t need to thank me!” Hibana replied back. “I’ve kinda been getting tired of her mean girl shtick and this gave me the chance to almost do something about it.” There was a faint blush in her cheeks.

“You’re an Uchiha, right?” Sayato said, asking the stupidly obvious.

Hibana nodded in affirmation.

“If you’ve got any relatives working at the Uchiha police station, do any of them still mention my dad? He liked to help out from time to time, and his birthday is coming up on our graduation day so I’ve been thinking a lot about him lately.”

Hibana gave a contemplative face. “Uhh… there’s a plaque for a guy named Shohei Yasuda there I think, if that’s your dad! It’s been a while since I’ve actually gone to the station myself. I’m not sure if they still talk about him there, adults don’t really like to discuss ‘serious’ stuff with us…”

“That IS my dad!”

Sayato and Hibana talked for a while longer, mostly about family stuff. Or well, in Sayato’s case, lack of family. Sayato had lost his parents when the Nine Tailed Fox rampaged a few years prior, leaving him an orphan. Other topics discussed were what they wanted to do in the future, how much they looked forward to graduation and obtaining their headbands, and getting to know each other. It was funny, neither of them really had reached out to one another outright before besides maybe something as simple as a “Can I borrow a pencil” type of conversation in class, but now that their time in the Academy was up and graduation was imminent, they were getting friendly. It’s the first time in a few years Sayato could say he’s had that kind of connection with someone.

The sun was setting and most kids had already made it back home. Two adults, a man and a woman approached the school grounds, coming up to Hibana.

“Hibana dear, it’s starting to get late.” The woman, presumably her mother, said with a tone indicating it was time for her to get going.

Hibana looked a bit dismayed. She was having a good time with Sayato, but unfortunately home was calling. “Bye Sayato! See you at the graduation ceremony next week!” She said, walking off with her parents.

“See ya! Thanks again for helping out!” Sayato said, being a bit vague about what that helping out entailed as to not snitch her out to her parents.

“Sayato? That's Shohei's boy, right? Glad to hear he graduated too. Maybe you'll be on the same squad as him!” Hibana's dad said, giving a small fatherly ruffle to Hibana's hair.

“Uh huh! And Shohei’s birthday is coming up soon, so you better pay your respects to him!” Hibana said, boasting her newfound information about a man who she didn’t really know, but knew that he obviously mattered to Sayato.

“Oh, is it?” Hibana’s mother said. 

That was all Sayato could hear before the family got out of earshot for him. And there he stood, the last kid at the academy. No parents, no guardians there to drag him home. And it was about time for him to take his leave too.

The lonesome boy made his way back home, greeted by a usual silence. Bunny themed knick-knacks adorned various places within the house. A few picture frames were there, but they were pushed down. Maybe a little too sad to have those up all the time and remind him of what he was robbed of, he thought.

Tonight’s “dinner” composed of a cup of instant ramen. Nutritious. But Sayato didn’t really know how to cook much, and admittedly was a little reckless in how he spent his monthly orphan stipend, but he felt the candy he liked to buy was more worth it than getting something sustainable.

After taking care of some other basic needs like showering and brushing his teeth, it was time for Sayato to go to bed, albeit getting to sleep was a struggle for him, as he did have semi-frequent nightmares. Going to bed was like a gamble, one he didn’t particularly like to take, but an unavoidable one. He flopped into bed, eventually passing out for the night.

[jodilin65]

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 2001 Paula left a message saying she changed her number cuz some girl’s been driving her nuts. Too bad she wasn’t out here. She could get her hung for it. It’s a Puerto Rican, though, so maybe not. Anyway, I left her a message.

In good news, we got water last night at 6:30! Yeah, with one last-minute tease from God, too. I guess we went hog wild and pumped too much water at once because the water stopped towards the end of my shower. He had to go and vent the well cuz of something related to the pressure and the warm air escaping from the well. We’ll pick up a vent with a screen on it sometime soon. We used a lot of water at once, though I don’t expect we’ll do this regularly. We used water for 2 showers, 2 loads of dishes, and 3 loads of laundry.

It was nice to be able to clean the mice’s air filter today, too.

We got water just in time too, cuz the water was evaporating from the traps and it was starting to stink in here. I had to pour some of the last of the water down the drains.

Walter arrived with his nephew just after noon, saying he got stalled by a bunch of sheep, and I was like, by a bunch of sheep? Where? There’s no sheep around here that’d get in the way of cars. It made me wonder if the gods didn’t materialize them out of thin air as a last-minute insult. Once Walter got here, he said he was afraid to leave until it was done. I wouldn’t have wanted him to leave, that’s for sure.

He’s going to return today or tomorrow to pick up his rig. The rig with the wench has been sitting here ever since.

What pissed me the fuck off were the nosy workers from in back that invited themselves over to stick their noses where they didn’t belong. They just breezed right by the no-trespassing sign as if it didn’t exist. I’m sick of people driving onto our land to butt into our business. I can’t wait till we have fences. They could still get in, but not as easily.

We called Mary at work to let her know they made it out here, then again later on in the early evening. She was really happy for us. So was I!

In case I didn’t mention it yet, Tom fixed the bird clock that stopped chirping a couple of years ago. It’s nice to once again hear the birds chirp at the hour. We never could figure out why they stopped. Something about his taking the thing apart is what fixed it.

I’m getting ready to start ripping CDs into MP3s so that I don’t have to spend so much time doing that when I get the MP3 player. Ripping to MP3s takes longer than waves.

My birthday came early this year. Tom and I went to the grocery store in Casa Grande, and I got two new dolls! And one of them is a redhead! Finally, huh? It’s just like Teddy Bear’s, only a few shades darker. Darker than what I last saw her with, anyway. She was $20 and I named her Misha (that is a really cute and unique name) and she’s a 22” with gray eyes and a not-so-nice dress. It’s old-fashioned with gray wool, but I liked the face and hair color enough to feel her dress was worth it. I can maybe change it someday. It has pink rosebuds, velvet and lace trim, and a brown satin hem. I polished her nails brownish-gold. Her brown beaded necklace was glued on at the nape of the neck. I’ve never seen necklaces glued on before. Fortunately, her hat wasn’t glued on. It was sewn to her wig, so I could cut it off since I’m not big on hats. She doesn’t wear shoes. They’re white heels that are a part of her mold like Summer Dream’s.

I also painted Colette’s nails black and an old, cheap doll’s nails, alternating between pink and purple.

All the other 22” dolls wore wedding dresses. They were nice, though. One held a pink floral bouquet and another had gold accents on its dress so it wasn’t so boring being nothing but white, white, white. I wonder if this is what Paula meant when she was talking about dolls wearing white.

The second doll I got is another one of those 10” sitting musical dolls. This one’s dress is gorgeous. It’s an orchid dress with pink and blue trim with a touch of silver glitter. She has a melon-colored rosebud on her chest and on her white shoes. She has gold, curly hair and blue eyes. I named her Tiffany.

Tom got his computer working again, so that’s good.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 2001 We didn’t get water yesterday, and as soon as I awoke at 7:30, I knew we weren’t getting it today, either.

No words can express the red-hot liquid hate I feel for God and how strongly I wish I could yank him down from the sky and beat the shit out of him. Even Mom said to Tom last night on the phone, “Maybe God does hate her.”

Well, that’s been rather obvious for a long time now, hasn’t it? I’ve given up on asking why. I don’t know why, and I don’t care why. I just wish he’d leave us the fuck alone. Not even God can ignore those he hates. He has to torture them year after year.

I’m too pissed off to write anymore at the moment. All I know is that it’s going to be days before we get water if we don’t get it today, and we’re looking at a lot of trips into Phoenix in the meantime. But I know Phoenix would love to have us, so there’s nothing to worry about there.

Later…

I’m not sure if we’re going to get water today or not. I won’t believe it till I see it, but here’s an update so I don’t get too backed up.

The day and time I predicted we’d get water yesterday would’ve been right had God not inflicted punishment upon Walter for trying to help us and done things to stall us from getting water. Instead, at 1:30 that afternoon, I suddenly knew we weren’t getting water that day. Then by 3:00, I knew he wasn’t even coming. As it would turn out, the axle on his trailer broke, and that would’ve happened around the time my vibes changed. Everything was bought, though, so it was just a matter of having the pipe delivered to his house this morning, but what should God have happen to the poor person delivering the pipe? They got stuck. Then, after they got unstuck, a tire blew on this other old trailer of Walter’s, so he had to take it in to be fixed.

He’ll supposedly be here in about an hour, but I don’t know. This all makes me wonder if he’ll get killed en route to our place. Anything to keep us from getting water sooner. I’m nearly as worried for the guy as I am for us.

Then last night, as if God hadn’t shit on us enough already, he went and broke poor Tom’s computer. Talk about adding insult to injury! Two-year-old pumps and 6-month-old computers just don’t break. They just don’t. Nobody’s shit breaks like ours. Nobody’s.

What’s left for him to go after in this house and what will be next? The dryer? The lights? The roof?

I’ve really nailed this thing vibe-wise with uncanny accuracy. My psychicness really develops with age. In my early 20s, all I could do was get these little feelings here and there, but no details. Now I’m getting more accurate and more detailed with the things I see/sense.

Anyway, there’s a scattering of dead bushes alongside the washes. I broke up an ugly dead one yesterday while I was waiting hopelessly.

Although soft, and not audible in the house, I could hear Dan’s place thumping with music again. Hey, not hearing music on a 10-acre ranch in the middle of a weekday is simply out of the question, so what can I say?

If God will let us, we’re going to put up hedges, with or without a fence, in back. George’s dumpy little city is such an eyesore, let alone an invasion of privacy. They’ve got this ugly red writing now on one of the water tanks.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 2001 It looks like my Wednesday water vibe’s going to be right on. Come 3:00 yesterday with Walter still not showing up, I knew he wasn’t going to and that he’d call around 4:00. He called at 3:50 saying that the bank wouldn’t cash the check being a third-party check, so we had to go all the way back to Phoenix, the city that just won’t let us go, to get a check written from a different account and bank. Right now, Tom’s meeting Walter at the B of A bank in Casa Grande to give Walter the money in either a cashier’s check or cash. However he wants it. Then by noon, Walter should be here with all the parts needed to get us water by the late afternoon.

Fortunately, Tom had personal days stored up, so between this week and next, it’ll be a combination of personal days and vacation days he’ll take off. Next week he’s going to take off Monday through Wednesday. We decided not to go to Game Works because of all the holiday commotion, but we will do miniature golf.

My vibes have been amazingly accurate throughout this process. I was right about the footage, about the pump being bad, about him not showing up yesterday, about when he’d call, so now let’s just hope I’m right about getting water today!

Actually, he did show up yesterday to return the other check to us. We weren’t about to give him more money without getting that check back first.

When I went outside where he was talking to Walter, I thought Walter was playing music from his truck, but then I stepped back and realized it was Dan’s people. It was soft enough to hear plenty well outdoors, but not in the house. If this house were the Phoenix one, we’d hear it in here loud and clear. I’m sure it was coming from a car and not the house through an open window. It’s been cold, and I’d like to think no one could be that desperate for attention.

No one was in back yesterday to listen to either, and I hope they take today off too, though they never did end up being noisy. I only heard them for a few minutes. Maybe that’s because George spent most of the day back there, too.

We’re wondering if the reason APS hasn’t powered up the place yet is due to their having trouble passing inspection, but the longer that house is empty, the longer I get to live in peace if they truly are going to be noisy.

Tom says that by the subdivisions they’re building in the center of town, we have to get rich someday off this land. It’s a guaranteed thing. If this is true, then our struggling now is compensation of money later on, and not an everlasting curse, just like my shitty luck with women was compensated with Tom and Teddy Bear. I hope with Teddy Bear, anyway, if only for a year or two. The closer we get to May, the more I’ll be able to sense whether or not I’m going to see her.

Anyway, we weren’t at Mary’s long. She gave us $20 and let us load up 20 gallons of water for toilet flushing. Then we hit Circle K where he got gas and soda and I got hot coffee to warm me. As is 99% of our things, the heater’s broken in the car.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 2001 I don’t think I can concentrate on working on my bio right now, so here’s the latest well scoop. The cost will be $5,653. Mary and Dave met Tom at Harrah’s casino and gave him the check. Because it’s so much money, we agreed we’d give them a thousand dollars in January, though we didn’t tell them that. After making the comment to Tom about how I wish I could get a job to give half the money to charity since God wants us to give our money away, he said that maybe if I got a home job, I could give to Mom instead. Well, I have mixed emotions about that. First of all, I’ll never have a job. That’s just not meant to be, convicted felon or not. Second of all, in my eyes, Mom owes us. By now, she’s paid back all the money she took us for when she so selfishly took advantage of Tom around the time Dad died, but she can never pay us enough money for the time she stole from us. We were a new couple and going through a time when I needed him most, but she kept him away from me. She’d sometimes send home my favorite coffee with him, admitting he was at her house more than ours, and that’s nice, but that just doesn’t cut it as far as compensation goes. I’m all for milking the woman dry, as much as I love her otherwise because enough could never be enough or too much money from her, as far as I’m concerned.

Anyway, this shit with Dan just gets better and better. As it turns out, the cock gave us a used pump and then lied to us, telling us it was a 3-horsepower pump, when it’s really a 2 that can only pump 2 gallons a minute. This new one we’re getting is a 5-horsepower and it can pump 15 gallons a minute, so no more will we have to worry about not running dishes while doing laundry.

All my vibes were right, though. I said that unfortunately, the only thing Dan did tell the truth about was the footage, and yes, it is 785’. I also vibed the pump was fucked up, and true to what Walter said after testing it, it is fucked up. There was a hole in it cuz the fucker didn’t wrap that area like he was supposed to, and the pump was too small for that depth, so it overshot itself.

As far as what to do with Dan - my first impulse is to run over to his business and beat the shit out of him, but his wounds would eventually heal. Where we want to get him is where it’ll really hurt and for a long time too, which is his business. Tom wants to wait another year what with the way things are being so closely monitored cuz of all this terrorist shit. As soon as those fucking Arabs will leave us alone long enough, Tom will take care of him, along with Hall, the Public defender, Pig Bias, and the black bitch, if he can find them. I’d bet she’s got her number listed and is in the same place she moved to when she moved out of the house. Yeah, because she was never really scared of me. She’d welcome any calls or mail from me, believe me. Anything to use as ammunition against me so she could use and abuse the law against me again.

I checked online for Steven, but sure enough, he’s moved on to new areas and to gather new victims.

Tom knows enough about accounts to do things to Dan’s business, like transfer money out of his account, make checks bounce, etc. The less I know, the better it’ll be, he told me, and he can’t do the same thing for everybody. We can’t have an obvious common denominator there - a husband who works at a bank with a wife who has every reason to hate these people. It’s too bad I can’t be the one to decide what each one shall get. How fun that would be! After all, they got to decide my fate for a while. It’d only be fair if I could decide theirs, but life ain’t fair. It’s going to be something that’ll devastate them for years, though. It can’t be something they could recover from in just a few weeks or even a few months. We’re going on two years of picking up after Dan’s shit, and six for the freeloaders, so they definitely need to suffer more than just a handful of weeks/months.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 2001 It’s not even 9:00 and the gold truck’s already in back with its music thumping away. Just how many hours am I going to have to listen to this shit? How many more days? Well, I’m not going to listen to it. If I have to listen to music, it’ll be my own. In fact, I’ve got a CD playing now. Tom said it’s doing skirting.

It’s no joke how they say that when it rains, it pours. Last night, God just had to let a hose blow on the car, and poor Tom had to fix that, too. Like he didn’t have enough shit to deal with already!

Today is Dan and Steven’s unlucky day. Tom had taken them off his shit list to concentrate on those responsible for getting me thrown in jail, but guess what? They earned their way right back on it. It looks like, from what I vibed and what the guy he talked to this morning said, that this latest problem is also Dan-inflicted because the stupid shitfuck used too much plastic piping where he should’ve used metal. It could also be that the pump overworked itself since the fucking cock installed a pump for a 500’ well in a nearly 800’ well. Either way, ma will pay the costs, but that’s still one more thing we have to deal with. Meanwhile, laundry’s going to get backed up, dishes are going to get backed up, and trash is going to get backed up since we’d never want to burn without a working hose right there to wet any sparks.

I’m just sick of us having to be the ones to pick up after other people’s messes!!! God’s favorite pastime for us - suffering for years at the expense of others’ fuck-ups or vengefulness.

Anyway, some guy’s going to be here any minute, and I wonder - how incompetent is this one? How much money will we lose? How many years will we have to spend recovering from this cock?

Damn the Gods for making us pay for others’ shit! What? Do we not fuck up enough ourselves to be allowed to just pay for our own fuck-ups? Meanwhile, I’ll bet you don’t have anyone fucking over your precious freeloaders now, do you, God? No, they’re invincible, aren’t they? Nobody can rip them off or inflict untold amounts of stress, depression and anger on them, can they? Well, mark my words, God. Not even you can protect your beloved freeloaders from us in the end!

I wasn’t going to diet till after New Year’s, but I have to start now, or else I’ll be well into the 130s by the time New Year’s rolls around. I’m not like Tom or Mary who can eat all they want and stay the same, though they’re more like 30-50 pounds overweight. I’m 123 pounds now and would be a lot more than that come New Year’s, so I’ll have to start watching what I eat now, or else I won’t be able to fit into my clothes. We can’t afford new clothes now.

It makes me wonder, though - how much would I gain if I kept eating whatever whenever? I can only begin to guess! I’d say I’d probably get up to the 140s - 150s, but I’ll find out someday. I’m not going to try to control my weight for the rest of my life.

If we reactivate the well, and there are some things that could cause us to have to abandon it altogether, I hope we can get storage tanks in here soon enough. That way, when we suffer yet again on account of Dan’s greed and stupidity, we can have water till it’s fixed. Meanwhile, we got about 20 gallons of water at Mary’s yesterday, after we took showers there, for toilet-flushing.

Pepper was all over me, as usual, being playful and lovey-dovey. I’m thinking more and more that we will get Pepper eventually. Mary and Dave don’t hate him, but they don’t want such an attention-needy dog around. With me being home all the time, I wouldn’t mind him following me around. Mary mentioned how he’d love running up and down the house here. I could just tell by the way they were talking that they’d go for it once we got fences. The only problem is we can’t get fences if we’re constantly having to play well and car.

Ma gave me some puzzles, and Mary and Dave got me some more memory for my computer which was really nice of them when they went out to get some for their own computer. It doesn’t make things within my word processor run faster, but it helps with other things. Especially when I have a lot of stuff open.

We also got pizza and Mary sent us home with the leftovers.

It looks like George is back there now. I hope to hell he hasn’t heard about this black/Mexican shit I’ve been through, though I don’t think he ever knew our last names. It’s just that he’s in favor of freeloaders, and if he knew about this shit, there’s no saying how that’d influence his picking out tenants for that house. Although, it doesn’t really matter. If God wants me harassed all over again by the same old shit, I will be. In fact, I’m sure he’s going to make sure the noisiest people move in there, no matter what George does or doesn’t know. With this rental being the closest one to us, why would he let us have quiet white neighbors?

Later…

I totally, totally regret moving here! God, I never thought I’d be so sorry! I knew God was going to punish me for moving from the city and lifestyle he wanted me to have, but I had no idea it’d be this extreme. He wanted me to live with lots of people and noise for a reason. The well’s going to cost nearly $6,000 to fix! This guy, Walter, who I got good vibes from instantly, said he’s heard of Dan and his scams. He says we’re not the only ones that got fucked over by him, which I figured. It’s a common practice for drillers to come in, fuck people over in a certain area, then move on and do the same old shit elsewhere. I’m sure Steven, who was connected to Dan, is now long gone. Remember, he worked out of his house.

I was always nervous when it came to God’s punishing us for moving, but now I’m scared. Literally scared. This is beyond punishment. This is a curse. The question is, how much more cursed will we be the longer we stay here? How much more money will we lose? We should’ve just stayed in the city, kept a just-grin-and-bear-it attitude regarding the freeloaders, and then I wouldn’t have had to go to jail for 6 months, spend $40 a month for the freeloaders, thousands in hotels for contractors, and then thousands more a couple of years later. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about what other curses lie ahead for us after fixing the contractor’s fuck-ups, and ridding our lives of the freeloaders if we ever can.

Unless our struggling is because we’re going to be compensated later on in life with lots of money, which I doubt, something really wants us to struggle. It just doesn’t want us to get ahead. Every time we start to crawl out of a new hole someone’s dug for us, we get kicked down another one. Why bother trying to get ahead if we’re just going to be thrown back?

How do we get rid of the curse? How do we hang onto our money? How do we stop others from victimizing us and getting away with it? This isn’t a few hundred bucks and a few hours of freedom that was lost. Between the freeloaders and the contractors, you’re talking many, many thousands of dollars and half a year of freedom. What? Would it make God happy if I chained myself up in the closet every so often? Should we give half our money to charity? He works hard for our money and we should be able to keep it and spend it in normal, legit ways. Not be forced to give it to our perpetrators or greedy incompetent assholes. When is the payback for leaving the city and getting such a big, beautiful house ever going to be enough? When one of us is dead? It’s like - fuck living on a boat! Like God would let us? Besides, if we’ve gone through all this shit just to change houses, I’d hate to think of all we’d suffer on account of dumping civilization and getting off of land altogether. He would kill us for that! It’s like God put us here to serve others at our own expense. It makes me furious with God to know that these well drillers can get away with fucking over numerous innocent people out of thousands, while I go to jail for speaking my mind to people that provoked me. People that gave me a reason to react towards them. And nobody can try to convince me that things wouldn’t have been different had I been black, Mexican or male.

Later…

We’re waiting for Walter to return to take the pump out. Tom said he’s hoping they lied about how deep the well is because if it is a case of bad pipes, then we won’t need as much and it won’t cost as much.

We couldn’t get that lucky.

He also hopes the pump’s okay too, though we know the motor’s running.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 2001 Well, we made it to late November before we finally had to turn the heat on. Tom said the cold woke him up at 4:00 in the morning. It was down to 67°. We didn’t even have it on for an hour, though. Once it hit 70°, I turned it off.

The bad news is that the well’s fucked up. We’re not sure if it’s drying up and needs to be blown out, or if the screen’s clogged. There you go, God. Just have us spend our money on the well so we don’t have any to spend on his vacation. And we know no reliable company to call to ask questions to, thanks to society’s incompetent little fuck-ups.

I’m going to try to hold a day schedule till mid-December. The first week in December is his vacation, but then I have to hold out a little longer for the freeloaders.

Tom said there was a message on the phone this morning as he was about to log in to the web. I immediately thought it was Paula. It didn’t do me any good telling Andy that weekends were a bad time to get me, so why should it do me any good telling Paula that? Well, it turns out that it was his work. He told them, “You want to bug me after hours, give me a beeper and pay me extra,” but like most people, they don’t listen.

Al Loomer really did say it right back in ‘88. He said I was someone that just did not like people. When I told the therapist I had at the time, Trisha Morrissey, that he said that, she said she didn’t think I disliked people, she thought I just feared them. No, Al had it right - I detest people. And if there’s any fear it’s only because they’re so fucked up that you just never know how badly their fuck-ups are going to fuck you up.

Later…

To say today’s been a shitty day is quite an understatement. First the well, and now one of the rentals is getting on my nerves with its fucking music. It could be coming from the old gold pickup that’s at the new place right now, but Tom says it’s unlikely that someone would invest in a stereo that expensive in such a dump of a truck. It started as soon as we went out there and they saw us. Tom said there was music coming from the other direction this morning. If the music I’m hearing now is coming from this truck, I better hope to hell that this person doesn’t end up being the one to move in there. This doesn’t mean, though, that whoever does won’t end up being just as noisy.

There was even a dog getting on my nerves too, but only when I was outside. This was coming from the front.

Anyway, it appears I’m not going to be able to wash my hair till Monday and that this well shit is going to cost us hundreds of dollars that we don’t have. That’s right - my teeth are all paid off, so now it’s time to replace that problem with a new expense. Anything to keep us from getting ahead. What’s the point in even trying to get ahead? All we do is get set right back. It’s either the control board up top or the pump, but either way, this shouldn’t be happening after just two fucking years! Our washer won’t work on the small-load cycle, our jet dry dispenser in the dishwasher breaks, and now this shit! Nobody’s shit breaks like ours. Makes me wonder if I should even bother getting an MP3 player. In fact, no I won’t. I’ll just finish burning my waves onto CDs once we get more CDs. I’ll no doubt have to put any money I get for my birthday and Christmas towards this well that’ll cost us hundreds, if not thousands, cuz we can’t count on his selfish mother helping us for sure. No, she’s too wrapped up in her own self, like hanging onto all her money in case she has to go into a nursing home someday. Even if this does happen, that could be ten years from now. She should be living in the present and putting her kids first, not herself. But she’s the kind that’s selfish enough to see Tom get sent to jail just so she could see him, rather than have him move far away and not be able to visit.

Well, maybe, just maybe, next year I can have a birthday and a Christmas after missing out on that twice in a row. Maybe.

This living on a boat someday is just a dream, though. God would never let us get that far away from civilization, anyway. I think this area will build up, but not in a way that’ll get us rich enough to live on a boat. Just in a way that’ll have more people and more noise.

Later…

It is the gold truck, and of course it’s a freeloader, too. I just saw the cock go into the truck and turn the music back on (it was off for a while). Also, a piece of shit doesn’t mean it can’t have a stereo like that in it. That ranchero whose stereo harassed the shit out of us was an old beat-up piece of shit. It’s a matter of priorities. Some people are demented enough to spend hundreds of dollars on a stereo just for others to hear than on a vehicle itself. A lot of these stereos aren’t bought and paid for in honest ways, either. They’re either stolen or bought with hot goods. Besides, Tom always tries to talk me out of believing certain sounds are coming from certain cars/houses. I guess he doesn’t want me to complain to them, as if I would even think of doing that after all that’s happened.

Anyway, it, and someone with a silver or white truck, is working on the electrical wiring by the house. Hopefully, with the fading sunlight, they’ll be gone soon. Of course, they’ll be back tomorrow, and God only knows how many more times after that.

No one can tell me we haven’t been punished by something up there for leaving the city. With the shit we went through to get into the house and then me being dragged back to live in the city for 6 months, it’s so obvious. And I knew it, too. I knew there’d be hell to pay for leaving the city. I just didn’t know it’d be so extreme. So, since we have to listen to music and dogs out here, we might as well have just stayed in the city and just gotten a newer, bigger house there. Then we wouldn’t have had to deal with wells or hauling water.

Oh, good. I just jumped up and checked and both vehicles are gone. Like this freeloader couldn’t have waited till it was pulling out to start the music? It just had to start it a few minutes before it left so we, and others, could hear it and notice them, huh?

Tom’s going to call this company to come out and check the well on Monday. He’s going to take that day off. He’s owed a personal day anyway. He keeps saying everything will be alright, but you know I can never believe anything’s going to be alright till I see it. What if everyone’s booked up and it’s weeks before we can get someone out here? What if they fuck us over and rip us off like the other company? Will we have water before we run out of dishes? He can’t even burn tomorrow. We only have enough water to flush the toilets about 20 more times, then that’s it. Of course, there’s laundry to be done too, and we could be in big trouble if we end up having to go too many days without water.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 2001 I finally got through to Paula. She’s the same old, same old. She’s fighting with her upstairs neighbor now who she says is noisy as hell. She dreads being there on weekends. Yes, I remember dreading the weekends all too well! Meanwhile, she can’t get out of there till May cuz she has a lease. At least she’s in an apartment. It’s a lot easier to move from an apartment than a house.

She says some other girl’s been calling her, threatening to kill her and fuck up her car. I don’t know what this is all about. As usual, she made no sense. First she’d say it was cuz of one reason, then another. You know how she is - jumping from subject to subject, interrupting, contradicting, making no sense, not remembering anything. She didn’t even remember Teddy Bear. She asked if she were Puerto Rican and if I’d written to her, yet if she’d read my mail she’d have known she was a white redhead and that we agreed I’d wait a year before contacting her. I told her I may have sunk my chances, though, by stupidly trusting Mary.

She claims she’s going to send me a doll, though I doubt it. She asked if I could make her new tapes of rap songs and basically surprise her with whatever, so I did. I made her two tapes, using my best judgment as to the songs I chose.

I asked her, and she said she was in jail for 3 months, in a dorm, in Niantic, CT. She said most of the COs, as they’d call them, were jerks. Her charges were assault and battery on this girl and a pig. Naturally, my first instinct was to be totally sick over the fact that someone can beat up two people, one being an oh-so-precious pig, and get just 3 months, while I get 6 for words on paper. But then she told me she also got 2000 hours of community service and I was like - oh my God! In a sense, that’s way worse than what I got. If you’re gonna sit in jail for 3 months, you might as well make it 6 and come home to just 100 hours. She’s damn lucky she didn’t do that out here. If she’d done the same thing here, she’d be looking at years in prison and many, many years of probation. I’ll bet she’d do 3 to 5 in prison, then 5 to 10 years probation with more like 5000 hours of community service. I forgot to ask just how much probation time she had and what her community service work entailed. I know she did it out of the house.

Here’s a classic example of how much stricter Arizona is than Massachusetts. I sent threatening letters and a threatening tape to people in Massachusetts (Larry and Ronnie), yet I never heard a damn thing about it. They probably ignored the stuff and threw it out once they realized what it was since that’s the way people there tend to react, and if any of them did go to the police about it, they were no doubt told not to worry about it. It’s just a voice on a tape and words on paper. I hadn’t done anything.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 2001 Went to Circle K this morning for some goodies before I do that diet again. They finally changed their coffee flavors. They had vanilla and mocha for a long time, and now they have Butterfinger and cinnamon. We got delayed by an Am-track train forfuckingever on the way there. It’s hard to believe Maricopa has AM-track. They just built a train station, so I’d say Maricopa’s going to build up as I predicted. We didn’t see any new houses along the way, but it looks like they’re getting ready to pave more of the road about 6 miles from here.

When we got back, we picked some radishes. Tom was brave enough to try one, but as I figured, he hated it. They’re pretty hot, but I like them. After too many, though, my mouth is on fire and I have to eat something to take the bitter taste away.

Nothing going on in back yet, but I have seen a couple of vehicles there today and yesterday.

I decided to fly the rest of my flags one by one till they all wear out. I took down a tattered Tweety bird flag and replaced it with cute Dalmatians.

We also made wire shelves for the rats with the wire that we used to make the pig’s cage. We bought the stuff for the mice, yet it ended up with pigs and rats!

Last night I set up 4 ladies with males for breeding, but I don’t know if I had them together long enough or if they’ll allow themselves to breed. They didn’t seem the least bit interested. They fought the guys like hell.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 2001 I got some potentially good news in the mail yesterday that fits with my vibes. My letter to Ida was returned, saying she’s no longer in custody and was released on the 9th. That’s exactly when my bad vibe suddenly went away, which means I was right in assuming that together, she and Mary were bad news had my bear worked during this time. It may be too late and they might’ve trashed me to the bear already, but that’s not what my vibes say. Now that Ida’s gone, if it hasn’t already been done, Mary may feel awkward about trashing me alone. It’s not as fun when you have another person with the same venom towards you trash you along with them. So, unless it was done during the time I had the horrible vibes, which was for about 3 days, I still might see my bear next May. In fact, it appears I may get my cake and eat it too. Meaning, I’ll never again hear from Mary, which would be just fine with me, yet I still get to keep my bear.

Also, I had wondered why it took Ida so long to respond to me when I sent the note two weeks earlier and she’d been with Mary that long. Well, obviously it was so she could be sure to get the last word. At least she was all talk when she said I’d hear from her further. I figured as much, anyway. I mean, what’s she gonna do? Threaten to break my hand for writing the note?

Meanwhile, I’ll keep Mary’s letters and story file till I’m off probation, then I’ll destroy those.

How the fuck did Ida get out of there so fast? She was in on a violation, and violations are supposed to be 3 months. Maybe she bonded out, though I don’t know if violations are bondable.

I forgot to mention that two mornings ago, I saw smoke about 30 feet in front of the rental. I wonder what the hell they could’ve been burning.

I downloaded some e-books, though they’re books I’ve already read, and I’ll have to sit at the computer and read them.

Later…

It’s turned out to be a nice day and I’ve opened the windows. I don’t like smelling horses in here, though I’d rather smell horseshit at home, than farts in jail.

I tried to call Paula yesterday morning and today but she wasn’t in. With my luck, she’ll call over the weekend. I’d really prefer to talk to her without Tom being here. That way I can talk a bit more freely without getting him paranoid about something I might say.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 2001 Yesterday, Tom was telling me that he was about 20 pages into my Estrella book and that he suggests I don’t share it with anyone other than him. He said I can’t stop you from doing what you want to do, but things like how you wrote about how Rule told you how to get into Ad-Seg may make people paranoid, etc. He said he doesn’t think I should give it to Teddy Bear or Paula. It’s too late with Paula, but obviously it was okay since nothing bad happened to me for it, but Teddy Bear? I always believed, judging by her personality, that she’d be okay with it and that she wouldn’t tell anyone about it. At least not the wrong people, anyway.

Tom feels journals should never be shared, but to me, anything written away from home is not a journal. It’s more of a story about your adventures away from home, be it being away in jail or in Vegas gambling.

After taking a day to digest this conversation, I said to myself, hey, you need to try to learn to be a bit more independent when it comes to decision-making, as hard and as foreign as that may be. You let him talk you out of writing Palma and a zillion other things, and it’s okay to do what the one you love feels you ought to do, but you need to follow your own head/heart at times, too. I know he means well, I know he isn’t forcing me to do anything, and I know he’s right a lot of the time when he gives me suggestions or advice, but sometimes, I need to do my own thing, even if its results aren’t always very good. Life’s about taking chances. There’s been a lot of times when I was glad I took his advice and there have also been times when I wished I’d taken my own. It’s like sometimes he’s even more paranoid and cautious than even I am. “Do what you want, but I think tearing out and destroying journal pages would be too paranoid,” he told me. And maybe it was, but it’s just as easy for me to say that I can see how could be a bad thing to send copies to Mary, even if there were no N-words or threats in it, but the bear? I don’t know about that one, though her copy would be severely edited.

I still don’t think I’m ever going to see the bear again, but the point is, I’m not going to say yes or no either way as to whether or not I share the story with her. Maybe I will and maybe I won’t. It’s going to be solely up to me with the only influence being herself. Meaning, something she might say/do to convince me either way.

My first thought was to keep it a secret if I did share it with her, but first of all, I never could keep a secret to save my life. My secrets were always discovered one way or another, and secondly, I shouldn’t have to. At nearly 36 years of age my actions, especially to Tom, shouldn’t have to be hidden, explained or made excuses for. I’m always going to do what he suggests I do 8 out of 10 times cuz I love him, know he means well, and trust his judgment, but sometimes I’m going to make my own decisions and do things my own way. Once again, though, I’m not saying either way how I’ll deal with Teddy Bear when it comes to this book. If I ever see her again, we’ll see.

Who knows? I may decide, come May, not to write to her. I wish I could make myself not want to write to her. After being burned time and time again by 9 out of 10 people I’ve had contact with, both on account of my stupidity and my not doing a damn thing to deserve it, you never know what shit she may drag into my life, despite how unlikely that seems. She’s just someone that gives off positive vibes from the get-go. There doesn’t seem to be one ounce of meanness or paranoia in her. I doubt she’d go running to a pig friend, if she’s got any, to type up a threatening letter to her to add to the story, if she got pissed at me. I think that unlike most people, if she was pissed or unhappy with me for any reason, she’d simply ignore me. And that would be the proper thing to do in most cases. She’s never seen the type to get upset easily, though it probably wouldn’t take as much as it’d take Tom. She’s a DO, after all, and you need a little bit of bite to you for that kind of job or else some of those inmates will chew you up and spit you out. Still, unless Tom’s eager to disagree with me for whatever reason, I think he’ll see what I mean if she ever does visit. I wouldn’t count on a visit, though. Especially if I don’t hear anything nice from Mary this week.

If I ever did share the story with the bear, I think that the absolute worst thing that could come of it would be that she wasn’t happy that I wrote about her, even if it was all good, and that she may no longer want to be friends with me.

Early this morning two vehicles showed up in back, but I can’t say how long they were there, what they did, or if anyone else showed up. I was asleep by noon.

Yesterday I scanned my journal covers. Why keep them when I can scan them? I thought. I’m only keeping a few. One specialty journal and two prism-like ones. That’s because those two don’t scan well. They only sparkle with movement.

I wonder - will Scot invite himself over this week?

Later…

I worked on and off throughout the night on my bio. Once I get back on days, I’ll stay that way for a while. I’m tired of rolling, and besides, there’ll be more going on in December (hopefully all good).

I’m up to 1982 in the bio. What am I gonna do when it’s done? I’ll be so damn bored! I already am bored a lot as it is, so what will I do when it’s done? Read and clean?

Better not complain too much. I wouldn’t want God to think I need another adventurous trip to jail to liven things up.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 2001 Now the flat trailer and horse trailer are gone, too. Maybe the people connected to all these trailers were just workers living back there while they were doing the house since it’s so far out. Maybe they travel from site to site in the trailer.

I did something rather clever yesterday. I tore Velcro off of an old doll’s dress and replaced the belt tie on my robe by sewing on this Velcro. It stays closed better this way.

Time to go put the nature sounds station on and work on my bio. Not all of the rainy sounds sound good. Some of it sounds like static or like someone rustling papers.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 2001 Five and a half months from now I could’ve seen my Teddy Bear, but no. I had to be stupid and let someone go and ruin it for me. It’s gonna be so hard next May, knowing I could be seeing her if it weren’t for my stupidity and someone else’s cruelty.

You’d think Mary would’ve been a bit more empathetic. I mean, she of all people should know what it’s like to lose someone she cares about. Then again, maybe she didn’t care. Maybe she wasn’t at work. Maybe she was right there all along with him. And maybe I had her all wrong in that department. She fooled me in others, after all.

Anyway, it was yesterday that I noticed that the trailer was gone. There were a lot of workers over there, though. Remember, this is an old piece of shit so the setup will take more work. Now I’m not sure if those trailer freeloaders are going to live there or not. Maybe not and maybe that’s why my bad vibes subsided so quickly. But still, that place has “freeloaders” written all over it and there’s nothing to say that whoever does end up in the thing won’t be a problem. That’s okay, though. I can be a problem right back.

I still think that yes, having the same old thing every day does get boring, but I should’ve stuck out that last diet regimen I was on a little longer. It was working without leaving me starving my ass off. Sooner or later I’d have had to have started shitting. I couldn’t have stayed stuck forever. As soon as my body realized it wasn’t going to get 1500 or more calories a day, it would’ve adapted, and it’s not like I’d have had the same old stuff forever. Maybe I just didn’t give it enough time. The plan I had wasn’t all that terrible as far as variety goes. Having a cucumber and a can of peaches would be my fruits and veggies. I’d get my protein with a packet of corned beef, then I’d have the potatoes and pudding. All this would be slightly over 1000 calories a day, excluding gum. If I kept this up for a few months, with the exception of one day a week to indulge, I’d have to lose weight. My body couldn’t possibly hold its weight on that, even if I were stuck every other day.

I had major variety yesterday, including beans, yet I’m stuck again. Besides, due to my lack of willpower, having too much variety around tempts me to have a little of this, then a little of that. Next thing I know I’ve had too much.

I’m just not sure if I want to do this next week or wait till after the New Year, what with all the treats the holidays bring. Also, I strongly vibed, even before Mary stole my bear from me, that I wouldn’t be seeing the bear before Christmas.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 2001 I finally heard from Paula. I figured giving her the silent treatment would prompt a letter from her, but I have mixed emotions about writing back and calling her (she has a phone now). It’s easy to say it’s best not to bother spending money on stamps/calls to her. Especially with the way I’ve been burned time after time, but you know what? I’ve known Paula for 17 years and she hasn’t burned me yet. Plus, I want to question her more about her charges and experiences in jail just out of curiosity.

She asked for my number and enclosed a hideous picture of herself. She really got big! She’s 165 pounds. She was usually around 120 when we were neighbors. Her hair is between her shoulders and tits. Tom’s going to take a picture of me to send to her, as she requested.

She’s still dating this married black cop and this married Hispanic pig. She too, likes the uniform. Only difference is I lost my babe in uniform while she gets to keep hers. Hell, I didn’t even get to make it with my uniform in the first place!

She’s still in that apartment in Chicopee and says she yelled at her noisy neighbor. Yeah, that’s what you do in the east. Out here, you’re expected to sit back and take their shit, and God help you if you do complain!

She has a white Chevy Cavalier now and will move in April.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 2001 It’s only 73° in the house right now and 54° outside. It’ll definitely be in the 60s in here and the 40s out there come 6:00.

Tom visited with Mom, Mary and Dave. Mom gave me $20 to get a treat. I guess that was for the lemon drops I gave her. I think I’ll spend it at Walgreens over his next vacation. I could use more perfume and more sparkly lip gloss. I got raspberry last time, so I think I’ll go for watermelon or vanilla next time. I wouldn’t mind a new puzzle to two, either.

I really look forward to December and January, God forbid some freeloaders, or anyone else, fuck it up for me. I’m looking forward to going out and doing fun things, getting Christmas gifts (hey I’m just as spoiled when it comes to that as I was as a kid getting Hanukah gifts!) and fencing the property. Also, I look forward to getting an MP3-CD changer. I’ll re-rip my CDs as MP3s instead of waves, then I’ll make CDs of them in MP3 format. That’ll fill about 3 CDs (the one I looked at holds 5). Then, as I gather new songs, I’ll put them on rewritables in regular audio CD format till I fill those 2 CDs. Once full, I’ll burn them as MP3s. That way I won’t have to wait till I get around 250 songs, which is what a CD with songs in MP3 format will hold.

I’m also hoping to get a palm tree or something to fill the empty dining corner. Perhaps in January, there’ll be some good sales. I don’t have much hope of getting a doll or a new rat cage, though.

Later…

I was just browsing online when I came across this book. It’s about a former inmate that like me, kept a day-to-day account of her 6 months in jail. Only she was in the tents. She describes the horseshoe to a T (the intake area where I waited 16 hours to go to Estrella). Like me, she didn’t “fit in.” She wasn’t your typical criminal, in other words. She talks about how Arpaio’s crazy, out to boost his career, and how he wanted to cut a meal to “save the taxpayers money.” Meanwhile, this is supposed to be donated food. I’ll bet her story doesn’t end like mine did where a DO she likes definitely likes her back! Ha, ha. Anyway, it’s interesting, though it’s just the prologue and first chapter I could read. For $17 you can get all 21 chapters.

Later…

Tom installed a new online radio for me. It not only displays the artist and song titles, but it has a wider variety of music. I’ve never even heard of some of this stuff! It also makes its own toolbar, so I can always see the artist/title, even while I’m typing this. With the other one, I’d have to switch windows. It also allows me to see what’s playing on other radio stations before I even tune into them. There’s even a nature sound station. On one track I could hear the ocean, birds chirping, and wind chimes. Then there were storms, whales, rain, etc.

I forgot to mention that when Tom was at Ma’s, they ended up discussing Pepper. Tom told them I want him, and that we plan to put up fences and a doggie door. That way, if we don’t get their dog (which would only be because there’d be some other dog they wanted more), we can get some other dog.

Little Buddy gets more and more playful. He loves to come out and run around. Loves to chase me up and down the house and climb on me to see if he can get treats. He’s not just playful, he’s so loving and a real people rat!

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 2001 Yes, it got a little chilly in here last night. Down to 72°, and it’s gonna get chillier tonight. It only made it up to 77° in here today. I’m trying to wear warmer clothing before I turn on the heat (though I will turn it on if it drops below 70°) for the sake of saving money.

Tom should be home anytime now. It’ll be interesting to see if he brings any jail mail for me, though I doubt it. It’s been nearly a month now since I heard from Mary. I still say my first guess is that I won’t hear from her, the second’s that she’ll send me a “fuck you” letter, and lastly, she’ll tell me everything’s fine. Maybe she even got into it with Ida. It seems less likely, though, that she’d get into it with her as easily as I did since she’s more tolerant. Mary can sleep through anything, so she wouldn’t mind if Ida was up bopping around the room at 7 AM. I doubt they’d fight over how much of the vent was blocked, either.

Looking at it from Teddy Bear’s perspective, she’s certainly going to be pissed to find out I told someone in that jail that we liked each other. I myself personally, would not be, but most people would be. Knowing how overly cautious and professional the bear is, she’d definitely drop me like a hot potato if anything was said to her.

Worries, stresses, worries, stresses! And all for the wrong people! I mean, here I am, worrying my ass off about what these fucking low-life, scum-sucking inmates may say. Fuck that shit! I need to move on, with or without my bear.

As far as not hearing from Mary goes… ordinarily, I’d say no news was good news. Yes, I’d be happy not to hear from her, but that’d only convince me all the more that she bashed me to the bear. Should I really bother to write the bear next May? Should I bother sending a letter I know won’t get answered?

Later…

True to vibed, there was no word from jail. Don’t let my logic/vibes jump the gun, Tom urged me, telling me that if I don’t hear from the bear again, it could be for a million reasons and not necessarily cuz of Mary or Ida. She could get a better job opportunity, the county could lay her off, she could have to leave the state on a family emergency, they could have a policy in February stating that all personal mail will be returned, etc.

This is true, but what are the chances of any of those things happening as opposed to Mary and Ida ruining things for me?

Tom seems to be more empathetic about this than I thought he’d be. He even promised to help me see if I could find her online when it gets closer.

Although I hope not, maybe Tom’s right when he suggested that just like with Rosa, our time was meant to be brief, and not an introduction to a whole ‘nother chapter in life. Maybe she was just destined to help me get through that place, and she sure did! Just like my heart would pound with happy, excited anticipation when I’d be called for visits, it would when I’d see she was on, too. She totally made my night when she was on. When she was on, I knew everything would be ok. She made the time fly. An hour’s visit with Tom felt like 10 minutes, and 8 hours with Teddy Bear felt like just a couple of hours. Palma never made my nights like she did.

I don’t know what to think at this point. My vibes say everything’s cool as far as the bear goes, but logic says it isn’t. I know firsthand how spiteful people can be and over the dumbest things, too.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 2001 I’m up 2 pounds, and if I don’t shit soon, this last week of dieting’s gonna be a total waste.

Since Dave, like most guys, is dumb and useless around the house, Tom’s hoping he can comp a deal with Mary. Mary mentioned wanting to put up a couple of ceiling fans in her house. Well, if Tom mentions that we do too, perhaps she’ll buy us the fans for his installing them for her.

Later…

Well, that’s good that I finally took a dump, but now I have to relose those 2 pounds, so that set me back a day or two. Then again, what’s the hurry? Teddy Bear will never see me again, Tom loves/accepts me no matter what, so I may as well go at a leisurely pace and not push it. Or maybe I’ll dump dieting altogether. We’ll see.

There have been no changes in back. APS still hasn’t powered up the place. I’m like - just get the power going, get in the damn house, have your “housewarming�� party that we all have to hear about and get it over with.

It’s going to be cold in here tonight. It never even hit 80° inside the house or 75° outside.

Anyway, if I’m right about losing the bear, come next week with still no word from Mary, I’ll know it. I doubt she’d have the nerve to write to me to tell me all about it. I still don’t think I’ll ever hear from her again, and that if I do, it won’t be to say anything nice. My bad vibes are still down, but there’s still no reason to assume I’ll see the bear next May. Besides, it isn’t just Mary. I have another enemy in that place and one of them, if not both, had to have said something to her. I don’t think they both could’ve kept their big mouths shut.

I’m getting over my never seeing the bear again little by little, day by day.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 2001 The Brown Man died last night. Tom’s out cremating him now so he doesn’t attract maggots. We don’t bother to bury mice anyway. I just dread finding out just how many of these females are pregnant. And right after I finally segregated them without fucking up. It would’ve been too early to start breeding had I seen Teddy Bear next spring, but now I have no reason to breed at all. I have enough mice for myself.

It’s vet’s day today, so if Mary hasn’t gotten my last letter yet, she will tomorrow.

Bad vibes pertaining to behind us and at the jail have subsided greatly, but I don’t know why. Maybe Mary was planning to trash me, but then chilled out and decided this shit wasn’t worth fighting over. Or maybe I just don’t give a shit, since I resolved to not let anyone from jail get to me, and since I already resigned myself to the fact that I lost the bear. As are all things, it’s in God’s hands. If he wants the bear to visit next May, she will. If he doesn’t, she won’t.

Another thing is that if I end up getting yanked out of this house again and dragged into the city, then that’s where I’ll stay. If I’m meant to live in the city, I will. I’m not gonna have it be where sometimes I live here, sometimes I don’t.

I also won’t do a damn thing as far as working out and dieting goes. I’m starting to see a real difference again as far as muscle goes, and if I’m gonna be forced to lose all I’ve worked for again, I’m not starting over for the third time. I’m either all or nothing in this department, too. People should either always work out or just not bother. Working out on and off makes no sense. It’s just a waste.

I’m still 117 pounds, though, cuz I’m still stuck. If I’m having this much trouble at 117, there’s no way I’ll get even close to 105. In fact, I don’t think I’m going to lose anymore. I’ll still stick to the 1000-calorie diet, though, now that I found an easy way to do it. This way I’ll be sure never to go over 120 again. It’s just awfully sad that I can’t lose more than 7 pounds on such a low-calorie diet. If I were in my 20s, I’d already be 105, and if I continued on at the rate I’m going, I’d be emaciated in no time.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 2001 I finally forced myself to work out after having a good cry after Tom went to bed. I’m up to about 880 calories so far. I doubt I’ll crack 1000 today. I’d only be at 580 if it weren’t for the weekly sampler pack I get of 4 wonderful, sugary, flavored coffees. Carmel, vanilla, mocha, and something called Straight-up Latte.

Later…

I’m still 117 pounds. I’ve been on the diet for a week and losing 7 pounds in one week is still good. Now’s when it’s going to get tough and slow down. I’m already stuck.

Last night I began to feel better. Don’t get me wrong, I’d still undo my stupidity of trusting Mary and take my bear back in a heartbeat, but I can’t. What’s done is done and I put my foot down and decided not to be miserable over this shit day after day. I’ll be damned if I’ll let any inmates put the same stress on me in my own home that they put on me when I was stuck there with them. Mary G and Ida F are not going to bring me down. They stole any chances I might have had of having some kind of friendship, relationship or both with Teddy Bear, but they’re not going to take any more from me. Enough is enough. There, I couldn’t just ignore those who bothered me, but here I can. There are no vents to connect us, there’s no nothing to connect us.

I’ll still respond to any non-nasty letters I may be surprised with from Mary, but Ida will not hear from me no matter what she says.

My first guess is that I’ll never hear from Mary again. My second guess is that she’ll send me a letter bitching all about how I “used” her as if asking her to do something I told her she didn’t have to do is using her in the first place. If she hasn’t already, tomorrow’s the likely day she’ll trash me to the bear. Especially if she’s on her usual Monday M Dorm routine lately, and if Mary hasn’t gotten my “let’s be friends” letter, which still may not necessarily help things. People hold grudges. And for the dumbest things, too. And this is right after she contradicted me too, saying she wouldn’t give the address out to anyone, and how we got screwed by the government and the rest are criminals.

Anyway, the bear was never really mine to lose and I’m not gonna dwell on it. Yes, I’ll still write to her. Yes, I’ll miss her. Yes, I’ll always wonder about her, but she will live forever in my heart and memory. I will always cherish the memories of the brief time we had together. I will always appreciate and be grateful to her for going out of her way for me. She went beyond the call of duty and she really was my jailhouse guardian angel. I loved her with all my heart, though I’ll never really get the chance to know her, and I always will.

My bad vibes have backed off a little more, but I still have every reason to believe I’ll never see the bear again until and unless proven differently.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 2001 This is the most I’ve cried since I’ve been home. Each day it gets easier, but it’s going to take a while. I can’t believe I even bothered to respond to Mary’s first letter in the first place and that these people are still causing problems/stress for me on the outs! I don’t have to live with these people anymore (thank God) yet they’re still pissing me off and making me miserable. Fuck that shit! And fuck you Mary G and Ida F for fucking me out of my bear!!!

I keep trying to tell myself over and over again like a broken record how I’d be better off not seeing the bear anyway, that she’d have only ended up burning me, that there’s a lot of good to not seeing her again, but you know what? I’m not very good at lying to myself. Yes, there is some good to this, I’m sure, and perhaps it really is all for the better, but it still hurts. And there’s no way to fix this mess, either. I lost the bear cuz I asked Mary to do something she didn’t want to do, and now all I can do is move on and hope they don’t make any more trouble for me. Costing me my bear is one thing, but costing me my freedom is another. I still don’t see that happening, but you just never know. Anything could cause anyone to end up in jail in this state. Last night I was plagued with dreams of being a jail, being told by some nameless, faceless DO that the press was eating me alive, but I don’t know that this is necessarily a warning of trouble to come. I’ve had these kinds of dreams on and off ever since I’ve been home.

I realize more and more that Mary’s not getting out of there anytime soon. I think she’ll be there 6 more months to a year. Maybe even longer.

I haven’t had the energy to work out or much of an appetite. In fact, I stayed at 117 pounds because I only ate a few bites of macaroni on top of that burger and blizzard yesterday. Having backstabbers snatch from you someone you love and are attracted to does that to you.

Words can’t express just how glad I am we don’t have a kid. Not just because life would suck all the more with having to deal with the expense and demands of a kid on top of everything else, but I would’ve hated to have to level with the kid about life and all that. I’d have had to tell her or him, don’t believe anything anyone says. Don’t put your trust in anyone. God help you if you make an enemy, for they won’t just walk away. They’ll bring you down on their way out of your life.

How depressing as well as true, huh?

I’ll tell you one thing for sure and that’s that although I doubt Teddy Bear will call in a mad frenzy about this shit if she does, I’m going to let her know up front that if she harms me anyway simply because she’s pissed off at me, I will take legal action against her.

Another thing I’ve lost is the time she might’ve filled. Visiting with Teddy Bear would’ve given me more to do and filled more of my time since there’s only so much I can do sitting at home. I’d still rather be bored here than sitting in jail, but even so, I’ve lost so much. As long as she didn’t meet anyone in the meantime, I’ve lost so damn much. And all for asking a simple little favor of someone I’d done so much for. I can’t believe the selfishness in this world! You do for me but don’t dare ask me to do for you. That’s how so many people are.

I said I had had a bad vibe for the 3rd - well - those freeloaders arriving and my losing the bear is awfully close to the 3rd.

I ask myself - would Ida tell her PO to tell mine that I wrote her when she wrote me, too? Yes, she would. She would, even though it’d mean sinking her own ass as well. People will bring their own selves down to bring others down. The freeloader gave up a free house for me. They thought I was that worth it. So why not do more jail time for me, too? Mary, on the other hand, has nothing to lose, since she’s going to be in jail for years. Even if a year or two more was added to her sentence, it wouldn’t matter. She’s got enough years to do as it is that one or two more won’t really make a difference.

Worries, worries, worries! God, please don’t let Mary and Ida trash me to the bear!

Oh, like he really cares? He had me send the letter to Bill when I did for a reason - to get me into jail. So he’s going to have Mary trash me for a reason, too. I only hope it isn’t to go back to jail! Just cuz I’m bored a lot lately doesn’t mean I want to fill my time with adventures that aren’t very fun. I’ve had enough negative excitement in my life. I really thought Tammy would laugh at Bill for getting a letter like he did from me. I didn’t realize she was still so in love with him, but she is one of those who falls in love with abusive men. So, even though he was abusive to her and the kids, she’s still gonna jump to defend him.

I thought Teddy Bear and I met for a reason - to be with each other even if it was only on occasion. But now I see that it was only God teasing me into thinking I could have her. Just like he’s teased me before with a million other things. How could I have been dumb enough to believe that after 35 years I’d have a woman like her in my life, part-time or not? If it wasn’t meant to be in the past, why would it be meant to be now? And yes, I believe God used my stupidity and Mary’s vindictiveness to take the bear away from me. Things happen for a reason.

Oh, Teddy Bear, I’m so so sorry for trusting that bitch!

If this shit hadn’t happened, I’d be so thrilled if she called me now, but now, if she called me, I’d be like - oh, no! All she’d do is tell me how pissed off she was and not to write to her. Then I’d tell her I was sorry for my poor judgment call and that in the meantime, if you don’t like me, don’t have anything to do with me. Don’t shit on me either. Just go away.

Then she’d be nothing more than just a memory to me.

Later…

I worked some more on my bio since I’ll never have any more typing to do for Mary, nor any proofreading to do for Teddy Bear. Yes, I’m down to having just one project, other than the usual household chores I do, along with my hobbies, and just two appointments a month. Wow, huh? Lucky me. Now if I could just be surprised with a letter from Mary saying all’s cool, or a response to my letter from the bear in May, life would be even better. But neither of these things are going to happen, so I best just deal with it, get on with life and get over it. It’s just that I can’t control the pace at which I do this. I wish I could speed things up, but I can’t. Slowly my wounds will heal, but slowly. Meanwhile, 10 years from now I wouldn’t be surprised if I found myself wondering whatever became of my tall, redheaded jailhouse guardian angel that I came to love and never got to know. I’ll never even know if that R really does stand for Rebecca or Rachel.

Lo siento y ich liebe dich, my sweet Teddy Bear.

At least I can ask Tom for favors like spraying the outsides of the doors to keep the spiders out, without him turning on me.

I haven’t even had 700 calories today and I’m not the least bit hungry. I wish it could be like this every day, minus the anxiety and depression.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 2001 I’m doing wonderful. My stomach’s in a knot, my lungs are tight, my heart’s pounding with anxiety, and I’m madder than hell (at least I’m down to 117 pounds). Damn you, Ida, for starting this shit! That woman has caused me more stress and misery than even Melinda and Nancy. And damn Mary for turning against me all for asking her to do me a simple little favor she could’ve said no to. If she gave my address and God knows what else to Ida, she’ll certainly trash me to Teddy Bear. That’s the problem with people who decide they don’t like you anymore. They don’t just drop you. They fuck you over.

Anyway, I decided that if a little ass-kissing may save me my bear, I’d do it. So, after thinking about it for a while, I decided that even though my gut instincts about Mary are probably right, perhaps I was jumping the gun and assuming too much. So, I wrote her saying I was very sorry if I upset her, her friendship means a lot to me, I’d still like to help her with her book…

That way, if she was planning on telling/showing letters to the bear, it may change her mind, unless she’s already done it. If she’s done it already, it’s too late, I lost the bear, there’s nothing I can do about it, etc. If I can butter her back up, though, it may prevent her from doing anything stupid that’d cost me my bear. I’d like to believe she wouldn’t trash me after all I’ve done for her like typing up her story, making her birthday cards, sending inspirational letters and all that, but people are that mean. They truly are. And Ida’s no doubt egging her on, influencing her to shit on me if she hasn’t already done it herself.

Unless I’m surprised with a letter from Mary letting me know she’s still cool with me, I’m going to put a hold on proofreading any more of the bear’s copy. I’ll still send a letter to her on the first of May, but I’ll know not to expect a response. If Mary shows her the stuff I’ve written about her, even though it’s all good, there’s no way she’s going to trust me enough to want to associate with me in any way. Damn me for trusting Mary! If I get thrown back in that place on account of her or Ida, they’re dead. If I can get my hands on them, they’re so so very dead.

Also, if I should be miraculously blessed with a letter saying things are okay from Mary, I’ll play nice at least till I write the bear. Hopefully, she’ll get the fuck out of there soon enough! If Mary hasn’t already made up her mind to dump me, I still intend to dump her. I’ll just slowly fade away with time. For now, though, if I hear back from her in a good way, I’ll write less and I’ll write shorter letters, keeping all other people out of it save for Tom.

If Teddy Bear surprises me by calling me this month, it’ll be to chew me out. “How could you send anyone that shit?!” she’d say.

How could I have been so stupid?

Anyway, I gotta go see the cheeks (fortunately I don’t have jail vibes), then I’ll get my weekly treat at Dairy Queen. However, with the way my stomach’s so queasy with fear, anxiety, paranoia and depression, I may not be able to enjoy it all that much.

I bawled my eyes out last night knowing I’ll never see that face again. Never hear her voice. Never get to hug/kiss her or anything more. Now I’m not only left to wonder what would’ve happened my last night there with her if Misha hadn’t been around but I’m also left to forever wonder exactly what would’ve happened between us. I’ll still try to breed various mice, though I know her being a closed chapter in my life is for a reason. Things happen for a reason, so I’ll just have to accept that God must’ve had good reasons for using Mary and Ida to intercept our impending visit. I don’t know, maybe it would’ve gotten harder and harder to say goodbye each time I saw her. I’ll be sad for a while, but I’ll get over her. It just may take 2-3 years, but the lust part of it would’ve died anyway with time, regardless of how well we got along.

Later…

Tom just went to bed even though it’s early. That’s cuz he’s been going to work earlier these last few days.

We were in and out of Scot’s, then off to Dairy Queen, where I managed to scarf down a double cheeseburger and a blizzard. I still have some of the blizzard left, and as always, I gave some to Little Buddy.

Oh, Scot said he mailed the county a progress report on me like he’s supposed to do every 6 months. God, I feel like a kid all over again with these little report cards! My only worry with that is that they see I finished my community service, they see I finished with Helen, but what do they do when they see I’m not “working?” Well, once again, my life’s been altered enough over this shit and I’m not about to rearrange any more of it. I’d love a home job, so if they think they can find a convicted felon a home job, and if they want me to work, let them find me that job.

They’ve been booming again, although they must be further away this time because the booms are softer. Not enough to wake me up.

I’ve been hearing the weirdest sounds lately. Sounds that sound just like car doors, though I never see any cars moving, and I know I couldn’t possibly hear car doors from in back or next door. So, I don’t know what it is I’m hearing, but I swear they are car doors. I wonder if this should worry me, though everything has me paranoid, if not worried, these days.

Dan’s people have a better view of all 3 rentals cuz they can see the backs of the houses which sit side by side. Driving by Dan’s and looking past at the rentals, I was shocked to see just how far apart they are. They must be a couple of hundred feet apart, but seeing them from here all lined up makes you think they’re closer.

I’m a lot depressed and a little worried. I mean, I don’t see how what I wrote could get me thrown back in jail as long as Scot doesn’t get wind of it. I never used “racial slurs” or threats of any kind, but I did mention names and I wrote about those people, the stupid fool I am! And once my bear learns about it, she’ll be pissed and completely turned off. Just the fact that I wrote about her is all it’ll take. Why did I open up to this bitch and put my trust in her, someone who has years and years to do in jail with nothing to lose? Like Tom said, what am I gonna do? Threaten her? And with what? Telling her auntie Carolyn what a two-faced, phony, lying, back-stabbing asshole she is? Maybe she is guiltier than I thought as far as her kids go, too. Just the fact that she gave Ida the note and gave her the address tells me something right there; that she’s turned on me. And instead of telling herself, well, I really shouldn’t put Johnson on the spot and embarrass her in any way, she will. She’ll spite my bear to spite me if it’ll cost me my seeing her next May.

I ask myself, though, would someone really get pissed at my asking them to slip a note.

Yes. Yes, they would. Look how the freeloaders took my asking them to turn their fucking stereo down, and remember, that’s what started this whole chain of events in the first place; me asking them to lower their music. I don’t know why, but simple little reasonable requests really do set people off. Especially out west. And out west, when someone gets pissed off at you, they drag others into it just to fuck you over all the more. They don’t have the balls to face you directly and keep things between them and you. And how could she feel “used?” I mean, I don’t know for sure that she does. That could be just Ida talking, but if she feels used by my asking something like that, I should feel incredibly used for being asked to type up page after page of her life story! If she felt used, upset or pissed in any way about my request, couldn’t she have told me so herself? I told her she never had to do anything she didn’t want to do, so what’s the big deal? Is there more to this than I know of? I know a lot of it is Ida’s influence. Mary’s a very suggestive, gullible person. That’s why I hope my letter insisting I didn’t mean to offend anyone and that I want our friendship to work out will convince her to at least not trash me to Teddy Bear and drag her into this shit. She doesn’t need or deserve that.

If I don’t hear from her, or if I get a letter that’s not the least bit nice, I won’t bother writing to her ever again, but I’ll still take a shot at my bear next May, even though I know it’ll be useless. If I do get a letter from her saying everything’s cool, I’ll write to her to keep her from spiting me, but will write much fewer and much shorter letters. If I dump her without being dumped first before May, she could turn on me for that alone.

I keep trying to tell myself that everything will be okay and that I don’t know for sure that Mary’s turned on me and that I lost the bear, but I had to have. Her giving Ida what she gave her tells me that. Plus, I haven’t heard from her since they’ve been cellies. So, if Mary can give Ida the note and the address and tell Palma I had a crush on her, why not show the bear the stuff I was stupid enough to send?

How could I have been so trusting as to open up to this person?! Ugh!!! I swear I’ll never trust another human being again other than Tom. I’m not even going to write Palma, Pérez and Espi, regardless of whether or not I hear from the bear.

I’m just glad I don’t have to go this shit alone, although Tom doesn’t seem overly empathetic about the damn good possibility of me losing the bear. Maybe deep down he’s glad. Of course, I know that if I don’t get a response from her next May, it could be for some other reason. I highly doubt it, though. If I don’t hear from her, I’d say there’d be an 80% chance it was cuz of Mary and Ida. It really pisses me off but mostly bums me out to think I’ll never see my Teddy Bear again. Although my bad vibes have backed off a bit about the freeloaders in back, I’d rather they pummel these walls with base every day than lose my bear.

I’d also rather lose her than go back to jail, and I still do worry about that, as much as it seems unlikely. It’s just that that’s what I thought a year ago, too. I’d go to court, and be told I was to receive extra probation time only to find out 5 minutes prior to sentencing that I was to do months in jail. I was never kidding when I said that something up there had an obsession with me being stuck in all different places I didn’t want to be. It was like I was being teased and punished for living here and like the city didn’t want to let me go. Something up there also loves for me to worry my ass off over nothing, so let’s hope that’s all this is. But what am I gonna do? Worry my ass off about something every 6 months? That’s no way to live. This stress, anxiety, paranoia, and depression is no way to live.

All I can do is just try to look at the good as a way of helping me to get over her. I feel less pressured to lose weight since, after all, I did tell her I was going to lose weight. I don’t have to bother trying to breed certain mice, not that I’ve had much luck with that anyway. Perhaps it’s all for the better that we don’t see each other. I’d certainly rather have a full-time relationship with my husband than a part-time one with any woman. It makes no sense that God would connect us like he did and have us fall for each other, but it does. Meaning, I’ve never had a woman I was into this much, so why would I now? If one wasn’t meant to be up till now, why would it be meant to be now, part-time or not?

Anyway, now it’s just a matter of sitting back, trying to relax as best I can, and hope for the best. Hope that whether or not I hear from Mary, I don’t get in trouble and I hear from my bear come what May.

Later…

My bad freeloader vibes have backed off considerably and my bad bear vibes have backed off a little. But only a microscopic bit. I still have every reason to believe I lost her. And I lost her all for asking Mary to slip someone a note that she didn’t want to slip.

What burns me up is that like with the freeloaders and most everyone else that’s ever fucked me over in any way, there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. There’s just no fighting back. I also don’t believe in dragging innocent people into feuds. Why involve her aunt in this? She didn’t do anything. I could’ve been meaner than hell and dragged Larry Jr. into my dispute with his sick father, but I didn’t. I know it really would’ve hurt like hell too, for him to hear things like - you murdered your son just like you yourself said - etc.

I can’t picture Teddy Bear being spiteful in the way that most people are, but would she go further than just not having anything to do with me? Would she contact Scot herself? Would she call and bitch me out, telling me to forget about writing to her next year? Or would she be pissed, then be chilled out by May, finding my letter too sweet to resist responding to?

Fat chance on that last one!

Just how closely do the mailroom people read letters? If they spotted DO’s names would they still give the letter to Mary? Or would they themselves find a way to bring it to the bear’s attention?

Anyway, unless Scot contacts me about this shit, it’s going to be 2-3 weeks before I know for sure what’s going on. I mean, there’s still a chance that Mary just may, after all, drop me without dragging Teddy Bear into this, but I highly doubt it.

Sooner or later, I’m going to get over Teddy Bear, but it hurts. It really hurts. To know I’ll never see her, never learn her name, never learn about her, never hug her, never give her any mice, never show her this house, never see her house, and yes, never have sex. I know it would’ve come to that as long as she wasn’t with anyone she met during the year. But like I said before, I never made it with someone I was this attracted to in the past, so why would I now? That always seemed to be totally forbidden to me. Just not in the cards at all.

Sooner or later Mary’s not going to be a witness anymore and the DOC has to come and get her, regardless of what state she’ll be in, but not soon enough. Nowhere near soon enough. Even her getting out of there in 3 weeks isn’t fast enough because the bear usually works there once every week or two (although Mary said she hadn’t worked there in weeks). Teddy Bear may not work M Dorm till 3 weeks from now, but I know Mary will be there then and whether or not she’s with Ida, she’ll trash me then. It’ll be worse, though, if she is with Ida. They’d feel much more comfortable trashing me together since they’re both pissed at me than they would if they were separated. Not that separation would change things. They’ll still fuck me over. Especially Mary. It’s just that she may do it a bit more gently if she doesn’t have Ida right there cheering her on.

What’s done is done, though, and what’s fated to be is going to be. If I’m not meant to have the bear in my future, I won’t. God’s not going to let me have what he doesn’t want me to have. Period. I just wish he didn’t let the bear and I mount to what we did if he doesn’t want us to be a part of each other’s lives! It’s like - why have me crying over not being able to have a kid from 1994-1997 if he knew he didn’t want me having one?

If only I could be wrong, though! I don’t see how there could be a chance of that, but oh how nice it’d be to get a letter from Mary saying she was never mad at me, yes we’re still friends, no I haven’t shown any of your stuff to anyone.

Here’s another question I have: could she two-face me by bullshitting me by saying everything’s cool, yet trash me to the bear behind my back? I think that, in a sense, would be even worse; having her be all lovey-dovey in her letters all the while she’s laughing her ass off, fucking me over behind my back!

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 2001 In between my final run-through of the bear’s copy, I began my autobiography.

Now that I don’t have a zillion appointments and have completed most of my writing and household projects, I find myself getting bored here and there. I’d rather that, though, than be overwhelmed with being in jail or having a zillion freeloader-related appointments. Even non-freeloader-related appointments can get to be a bit much after a while.

I did a little rearranging of the walls earlier. After 2 years, even a rather pleasant arrangement can get old, so I swapped some pictures within a few of the rooms.

Still no music in back cuz they’re not in the house yet.

It’s already coming up on 1:00 and I haven’t had to kick the AC on yet. It’s gorgeous out. I’ve got windows open in all the rooms but his office, the den, and the retreat. Actually, I shut the kitchen window cuz the sun is on its way back there. Early this morning it was quite chilly in here. We’re getting closer to needing the heat.

I’m still accumulating a few scattered songs off the web that I had trouble finding for a while. The original plan was to get either a CD changer or an MP3 player with my birthday and Christmas money, but as I told Tom, it’d be nice to do everything via computer. The only bitch about that would be having to deal with turning the monitor on and off since I don’t like rocking out with lights on at night. Also, switching from song to song may be a bit of a bitch. That’d depend on how big my list was, I guess. I’d probably alphabetize them. I’d have it hooked up to the stereo because although MP3s are small, they do take up space when you have hundreds of them. When using the regular computer, like when I’m writing letters or something like that, I listen to online radio stations to listen for new songs I like. With an MP3 player, I certainly could change my playlists around a lot easier, whereas with CDs, it’s not like I could rearrange the tracks anytime I felt like it.

Tom’s going to hit some stores and check into the prices of MP3 players and CD changers, and find out what they entail. Like, do they have a way of indexing what songs are where? If they’re not going to be any more convenient than a computer, I won’t bother. I’ll spend the money on other things like maybe a palm tree for the empty corner in the dining area, a doll, new rat cage…

I’m 118 pounds today. I would’ve been really shocked if I hadn’t gone down some more. Tomorrow I’ll go up a couple of pounds because it’ll be my day to indulge in a burger and some ice cream and maybe even a single bag of popcorn. I miss reading with popcorn. I haven’t been reading at all. I think I’ll have Tom pick me up some celery stalks and some cucumbers to munch on while I read this Saturday when he does the grocery shopping. The freeloaders have altered our grocery shopping schedule a bit. The first two Fridays of the month aren’t convenient for him to go grocery shopping cuz those are the days I see The Cheeks. Therefore, he goes on Saturday.

Anyway, I’m so sick of potatoes! I’m going to drop to just one package of potatoes a day, and also have a small box of pudding, a banana and a package of corned beef. This way I’ll have a better variety, and better to munch on a 14-calorie celery stalk, as boring as it is, and a 21-calorie cucumber, than a 300-calorie bowl of popcorn while reading.

I decided to do one more schedule rollover. Then, although my senses don’t sense my Teddy Bear in the near future, I’ll be prepared and ready for her should she jump out and surprise me with a pre-Christmas call, using my making-up cards for her as an excuse. I’ll also be set for the vacation he plans to take throughout the week of my birthday. We’re going to go play miniature golf and hit Game Works, too. It’s not eating at Red Lobster and shopping at malls for dolls, books, and clothes, but it’ll be a fun break from the usual routine. I’m looking forward to it.

Later…

Got a surprise in the mail from Ida, of all people, and what she said makes me wonder if I can trust Mary and if I should bother associating with her. The letter was only a few sentences. She says: No, Mary didn’t slip me your “nasty” note. She handed it to me since we’ve been cellies for 2 weeks. I’ll be out there again shortly and you will hear further from me then. Why did you use Mary like that, you coward?

So, in my reply I wrote: I hope you know that my intentions weren’t to be “nasty.” I was just being a smart-ass by saying shame on you for being in there, etc., and as I’m sure Mary knows, I wasn’t using her. I just wanted to play a little joke on you. You know how I was with my little pranks. I’m glad to hear you and Mary are cellies. You can share this with her.

Truthfully, Ida, I don’t care what you’ve done in the past or in the present to get in there. I like you, you’re an interesting person, and you were a good celly (even if we clashed at times), I just don’t think we should get together on the outs. You’re welcome to write me all you want, though.

Anyway, it’s ok that Mary gave her the note (which was not nasty in the least) and that Ida wrote to me, but here’s what worries me about Mary. It bugs me to know that she went against my wishes and simply handed it to her. It also makes me question just how trustworthy she is to know she gave Ida our address, even if it’s just the PO Box. Yes, I gave Ida the address before I got out, but she wouldn’t have had it with her in jail, she certainly wouldn’t have remembered it, which means Mary, who swore she wouldn’t give it out, had to have given it to her.

Tom said not to jump the gun and assume too much, and perhaps I am being paranoid, but I don’t know. There’s just something about the whole thing that really bothers me and I think it’d be best to hope she never writes to me again and for me not to write to her again. I’m not supposed to be in contact with those with records, anyway.

My only worry is Mary or Ida saying anything to Teddy Bear. Or worse, showing her my mail! I haven’t said anything wrong/illegal and I’d hope that if they did try to turn Teddy Bear against me she’d know better, but that’d be up to her should they open their mouths. There’s nothing I can do from here but hope she’s not involved in this and that Ida doesn’t do something like tell her PO when she gets out to tell my PO that we’ve had contact. Then again, where’s the law that says I can’t write to others in jail? I think this do-not-associate-with-those-with-records thing pertains to those who are on the outs.

Tentatively, I’m just going to quietly go away. Then, if I do hear from either one of them, I’ll decide how to handle it then.

Later…

The more I think about this shit with Mary and Ida, the more worried I become. I hope to hell it’s just pure paranoia on my part, but Mary’s turned on me, obviously, and so’s Ida. But why? Why would asking Mary to slip Ida that note which wasn’t nasty or else it’d never have gotten through the mailroom, upset Mary in any way, not that I can say for sure that it did? How is that “using” her? I told her she didn’t have to do it if she didn’t want to. She had me type stuff up for her, but I didn’t feel used. And just what does Ida mean when she says I’ll hear from her further once she gets out? That has a rather menacing ring to it. Does she simply mean she’ll write? Is it just talk? Or does she have any evil plans in mind?

The worst-case scenario is that I’ll get thrown back in jail over this, and the second case, which is the more likely one, is that they cost me my Teddy Bear. I don’t know, I just have visions of Ida saying, “Hey, Johnson! Jodi sent me a nasty note!” then she and Mary telling her all kinds of BS. I’d hope that Teddy Bear wouldn’t let them influence her in any way, but they could be flagging my letters around the whole damn jail for all I know. I wouldn’t care if they were as long as my bear didn’t get wind of it. And after all I’ve done to help Mary - God, I am so stupid! When am I going to learn - if you don’t want to be burned by people, don’t associate with them?

Well, hopefully my letter of explanation will back Ida off, and hopefully she and Mary will keep their mouths shut and not cost me my bear or get me in trouble, but even if it turns out that I’ve got Mary all wrong and she sends me the kindest letter, I’m just going to ignore her. This bout of paranoia, be it justified or not, is enough to scare me off. I’m going to ignore them both and hope they’ll do the same.

I know I haven’t written Mary anything wrong or illegal, but somehow, despite the fact that the bear did nothing wrong either, I doubt she’d like hearing or reading anything I’ve had to say about her, as good as it all was. Yeah, I lost my bear. I just lost my bear, dammit! Damn Mary and Ida to hell! They’re vindictive enough to do it and I know they did. I know they dragged my bear into this, turned her off and scared her off forever! Damn them!!!

Later…

A million possibilities run through my mind. Perhaps I am being paranoid about Mary because come to think of it, she wrote me after I asked her to pass my message to Ida, and that’s not something you get bent out of shape over. If you don’t want to pass a message, you don’t. For all I know, Ida could’ve written that letter to me behind her back and what she said could’ve been bullshit. Ida’s already proven to be a liar.

But Mary can be funny, too. She and I agreed she’d be the one to move since she didn’t mind big cells, but what did she do? She got all pissed off over it when it happened. She could be more two-faced than I’d imagined.

I hope that just like I was paranoid about losing the house I’m just being paranoid about losing the bear, but right now I have every reason to believe I lost her and that Mary and Ida told her about my letters and maybe even showed them to her. That’s my biggest concern right now. Way more so than being thrown back there. What’s done is done, though, and if I’ve lost her, I’ve lost her. Of course it pisses me off and saddens the hell out of me, but there is good in us never getting together as well. That is that even if the chances were one in a million of her fucking me over, she’ll never get that chance. So, all bad things have their good to them, too. All I can do is ignore Mary and Ida, hope they let me ignore them, write to the bear in May, and just live with it when I get no response.

Today’s the first day so far that we didn’t run the AC all day.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 2001 Yesterday I woke up at 120 pounds and was surprised to be down barely a pound. I thought I’d be down to 118 today, but instead I was barely down to 119. I don’t know why. I didn’t exceed 1100 calories yesterday and am still shitting out what I eat. I didn’t expect things to slow down until I got down to 115. All I know is that if this low-calorie diet doesn’t work, nothing will. I may have too much muscle to get down as low as 100, but there’s no reason the fat shouldn’t dissolve if I don’t go over 1100 calories and I only splurge weekly.

Where it gets hard is having to have the same old things day after day. So, when I realized that the fat-free, sugar-free puddings were pretty equal to one of the potato packs I’ve been having, I decided that next week I’ll substitute one of the two potato packs for a pudding. So I’ll have two servings of meat, a huge serving of potatoes, and a small box of pudding. That’s under 1000 calories. I have to lose weight on that.

I’ve finished proofreading Teddy Bear’s copy and now I’m listening to it. I realize I could never be happy. Meaning, I could go through the story a million times and still find changes to make. Not necessarily mistakes, but things I feel should be changed around a bit.

I wrote Mary a letter. I know she’s got her own shit to deal with, but I wish she’d write more often. I want any Teddy Bear updates she may have for me, too!

It’s still unseasonably warm, yet cool at night. I open windows when I get up, even if it means making the house smell like horses, then shut them and turn the AC on around 1:00.

Still haven’t heard from them back there yet, but what an eyesore the whole place is. Yes, we need walls up back there. Fortunately, we can’t see the Mexicans next door cuz they have a big tree blocking their little dump. We can see Dan’s house, but not nearly as well as this one in back cuz it’s further away.

There’s this one chick in particular that bothers me. She looks awfully blackish, but she may be connected to the silver pickup and I don’t think the silver pickup lives there. A pack of Mexicans is bad enough, but to sprinkle the scene with a black or two on top of it all would really be the ultimate nightmare!

Anyway, I don’t know what’s taking APS so long to finish their job, but there have been workers working there like crazy. One’s this scruffy-looking white guy with a gold pickup. They haven’t even skirted the house yet, and if they’ve carpeted, I wouldn’t know. Boy, would it be noisy with all those people if they were just a few feet away! But stereos can travel for miles, and although my bad vibe is backed off a bit, I still say we’ll hear from them 1-3 times a week from their house stereo once they get settled in. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if they were evicted from wherever it is they came from.

I didn’t get a look at the driver, but the silver pickup just went by with what appeared to be propane tanks for the trailer. I also saw a dark-colored car leave the property, but at the angle it was at, it could’ve emerged from the middle house. The owner of the blue pickup might actually have a job somewhere cuz it’s been absent during normal business hours, save for Monday when they first showed up. Tom’s so sure they’re not Section 8, reminding me that while that sicko Debra was the one renting the house, her boyfriend was illegal and he was the one with the van, not her. So what’s to say we don’t have the same case back there? Either way, there’s gonna be trouble. We’re still looking at lots of noise and trash. And company too, since Mexicans have a zillion family members. They may not come and go every 45 minutes, and they may not have 5 or more carloads of people coming to see them on a daily basis, but there’ll still be too much commotion for comfort. A city-like atmosphere that’ll totally clash with Maricopa. I just don’t know why people like this would want to live way out here. I guess it’s just a matter of God’s desperation to continually sic these sickos on me.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 2001 I’m so fucking pissed right now. No, I’m beyond pissed. I’m furious!

Trouble’s finally moved in behind us, and I know without a doubt there will be trouble. Just one look told me that. As soon as they get settled, they’ll be notorious for all kinds of noise, particularly music.

We got a whole family of freeloaders back there. I saw at least 2 or 3 little kids and 2 adult females. If there’s a man in the picture, I don’t know.

It’s like - fuck! Here we go again. The same old shit all over again, though they’re not at arm’s length this time. They’re gonna drive me crazy with base thumping like hell, they’re gonna trash our land, and you know what? There won’t be a damn thing we can do about it. Whites don’t win going up against minorities whether they have connections or not. I’ll be damned if I’ll make one single little complaint once their shit hits the fan. Why would I? So they can cry racism and harass us more? Maybe get me thrown in jail while they’re at it? I don’t think so!

I’m just so fucking ripped shitting mad right now - ugh! It’s always me that has to get stuck with this shit. Why?! Why God? Why do you insist other’s business be mine? There’s just no escaping what we moved from, is there? I knew it was just a matter of time too, before the shit hit the fan again. I’m totally cursed when it comes to neighbors in this state. Totally cursed.

Anyway, these are the kinds of people that are home all day and that live outdoors. You might have one adult in the household working, but even worse so, I’d bet they’re Section 8. Section 8 with nothing better to do, but blast music and hang outside (in between drug sales). The adults are going to feel too cooped up with the kids inside the house, they’re gonna be like - so what if there are snakes, scorpions and black widows out there? - They’re gonna put the kids outside, and knowing they’re too young to be left unsupervised (at least, I think they’d know that), they’re not gonna just sit there bored. They’re gonna put a nice big fat stereo speaker or two in their windows and blast it outside. Mexicans, like we got to the north of us, are very few and far between; that work and that keep their shit to themselves.

It’s always the blacks and Mexicans that have to come and ruin an otherwise peaceful place. Always! Yeah, congratulations, blacks and Hispanics! You made a die-hard racist here, didn’t you? I’m just tired of God and his obvious obsession with throwing these kinds of sick fucks in my face and having them butt into my peace, my life, etc. It’s like he’s saying, “Oh, no you don’t! You cannot live in peace and block out others from your life. If you’re not going to see other people, in or out of your house, you’re going to at least hear them. You cannot ignore them.”

It’s like he wants to constantly remind me that these people exist. As if I could forget! And why must the past always follow me? Poverty always follows me. The blacks, the Hispanics, the subsidy, etc. Like something wants to remind me of where I came from. Again, like I could forget even if I wanted to. Yes, Maricopa’s just as riddled with Mexicans as the city is, but not many of these 10-acre lots have rentals/freeloaders on them. Right now, we and the people at Dan’s are the only whites out of all the houses you can see well enough from this house, which is now 5 houses. I can’t say what’s renting the middle house, but from the looks of it, the farthest house is definitely freeloader-infested. I can tell that by their dumpy cars and the way they trash their place. Although a lot of owners out here tend to be just as big of slobs. That much I will say. Still, you can almost always look at a house out here and tell if whites live there or not.

They’ve given me every reason to hate them and every reason to know there’ll be trouble from back there. There’s nothing to say there won’t be. What I don’t get is - why not just stay in the city if you like noise and commotion? Why would these people want to come all the way out here? To spoil it for others? And damn George for being such a freeloader-lover!

There’s still no power hooked up. They’re doing what we did. They’re all staying crammed in this little shit trailer till they can get into the house. They have a horse trailer too, but it doesn’t appear there are any horses in it. I hope not. They don’t have fences for that. It also appears they may have one beat-up car and one OK pickup.

I really loved sitting in here when I was up during the daytime, hearing nothing but peace and quiet, and now I’ll be forced to give that up. I’ll have to start sleeping with the fan on high and having music on all the time. Even when I don’t want to hear it. It’s just that if I’m going to be forced to listen to music, I’d just assume have it be my own. Guess there was a reason why I had Tom put nice speakers on the computer yesterday! I have one in here and one out in the living room, so I could listen to the online radio stations while working out. So, as soon as the place goes thump thump with the sound of their base, I can have music out there, too.

I used to get bummed when freeloading trouble like this would move in next to me (behind me in this case), and I’m bummed, alright, but not nearly as bummed as I am furious. I’m so pissed at God for doing this to me over and over again. What’s he gonna do? Send them out in a boat after us once we get on the boat and out in the middle of the ocean? I wouldn’t put it past him. Makes me wonder if he’d preferred I’d married a freeloader with a dozen kids. And it’s usually those with kids that tend to be worse. I’m just so pissed knowing we’ll be forced to be victimized for years till one of us moves (they tend to hate us as much as we hate them).

They’ll love using our fence as a clothesline, once it goes up, but I’d rather that than have their trash dumped over it, and once the plants we plant back there grow tall and bushy, we won’t be able to see the clothes draped over the fence much. It’s just a pity that it’s going to be 6 months to a year before we can’t see them and their shit. Couldn’t you have waited another year, George?! For now, they’re in both sight and sound. Hopefully, it won’t be too long before they’re out of sight, if never out of sound. I also hope it won’t be long before they’re in the house, so I can hear their house stereo which isn’t quite as fierce as car stereos. Them being in a trailer is gonna tempt them to blast that car stereo more often, till the harsh roads fuck the thing up, not that they won’t fix it as fast as it breaks.

Why? Why come here, though, when they can sit in the city and have a million more drug customers and the opportunity to cause trouble? Their car stereo will work better there and there are more people there to hear it, so why come here? See, this tells me all the more that it’s God sending me trouble. They no doubt hate whites and want to ruin a nice, peaceful place to live. Unless George said anything, they don’t know us and Dan’s people are white, though common sense should say so. Nice new, well-kept homes owned by Mexicans? I don’t think so. The question is, how many years will they be here? It doesn’t matter, though, because together George and God would just send me a new batch to pick on me. I’m just sooo glad I don’t have to hear their car doors, them screaming or their dogs barking in this house if they get one.

George’s pickup has been there a couple of times this morning. It looks like he even hauled them in some water. Oh, how sweet of you, George.

I’ll be damned if I’ll make the mistake of bitching to Tom about them and letting them come between us this time around. Tom tends to be pretty defensive when it comes to neighbors, and if I bitch about them, all he’s going to do is make excuses for them, play things down, and make it sound like he’s on their side. You know how neighbor-conscious he is. It’s like he worships them or something.

At least I’ll be getting thinner while I listen to their shit. I finally discovered the right combination of food to lose weight without feeling so hungry all the time. I think I already mentioned this meat and potato diet, but anyway, it’s a piece of cake so far. In fact, I couldn’t even finish all of yesterday’s allotted food, and only ended up having about 900 calories. I’m already down 2 pounds too, to 122. So when I get fat a third time, I’ll know how to kick it back off faster. My body’s still gonna try to fight it once I hit down around 115 by being constipated and all that. I’m still rebelling against nature, so to speak. The question is, will I be able to get down to 110 or lower? You’d think I should be able to if I can comfortably keep my calories down with only one day a week to splurge, but we’ll see. I’m still 35. Not 25.

Later…

I just saw what looked like 2 adult male Mexicans drive a silver jeep-like thing down Ralston, then Meadow Green, then to the house. That’s a nice-looking jeep and pickup for poor, trashy freeloaders. Amazingly, I didn’t hear one beat of music. Not yet, anyway. It’s like the Phoenix freeloaders with all the nice cars, most of them quiet music-wise. It was only a few vehicles that were a source of music. Most of it came from the house which will no doubt be the case with these freeloaders. I’m almost positive none of them work. For all these people to be out and about in the middle of a Monday kind of tells me that. If not all, then some of them will be home all the time. How are all these people going to fit in a 3-bedrroom? That’s what I wondered in Phoenix, too. I swear history’s come to repeat itself all over again! What a chilling, uncanny, eerie resemblance to what we had in Phoenix. It’ll be interesting to see if they come and go every 45 minutes like they did in the city, and if they’re out running around naked at 3:00 in the morning during the summer, although that’d be hard to see from here even without walls.

Troublemakers don’t usually act up right away, though. Once they get settled in is when they act up. Within a week or two we should hear from them. That much I do know. Now I’m not so sure I want porches and a pool. What’s the point of trying to enjoy these things and the peaceful outdoors if the peaceful outdoors isn’t going to be so peaceful? If God can’t bring me to the city, he brings it to me. Even if I complained to George about the noise and trash-dumping and got results, what’s to say they don’t have some vengeful, white-hating friend hiding behind a label that says “biased crimes” waiting to type up a threatening letter and manipulate me into getting my prints on it? I’d know better, though, not to talk to pigs or touch anything they had, but still, I wouldn’t risk it. We’ll just have to take whatever shit they dish out at us.

Later…

Just talked to Tom, who suggested that maybe they were working on the house, but not going to live there, and that the adults working on the house took their kids so they wouldn’t have to find anyone to watch them, but no way. They live there. Why would they bring one trailer, plus a horse trailer, plus another flatbed trailer with God knows what on it, and two vehicles?

Later…

Still haven’t heard any shit yet, but the whole thing just pisses me off. It just pisses me the fuck off so bad! First I had to live in Puerto Rico back east and in Mexico out here. When can I live in the United States?

I can’t believe all the work people put into my bullshit case. With all the copies made of the journals, it’s no wonder they want $40 a month. They gotta get someone to pay for all that ink and paper.

One of the things the public defender showed me right before sentencing (convenient, huh?) was a sheet of paper presumably written by the DA complaining that I referred to the cunt’s boyfriend as “cock,” “it,” etc.

Now since when has it ever been illegal to call someone an “it?” I just don’t get the relevance here, since racism in that form isn’t yet illegal here. Another 5-10 years and they’ll hang us for calling them names like that. Maybe if our lawmakers had to live with them for a while, they wouldn’t be so quick to defend them and shower them with more rights than one could ever imagine any group of people could get.

Lots of clouds and some thunder today, but no rain yet. We did get a little bit of rain last night.

I take that back. It’s raining right now. Big fat raindrops. And the freeloader’s trailers are still here. Because they live here.

Later…

The jeep-like thing just left and this time I got a better look at it. It’s just a pickup with a camper shell and it’s not nice at all. In fact, it’s a piece of shit. The blue pickup’s gone, but the trailers are still here. I take it one, if not both of the trucks will return later, or else those huddled in the trailer would be stranded there. I’m sure that one of the owners of the trucks, if not both, lives there, too. There’s got to be at least 8 of them, counting kids and adults. God knows how many friends, cousins, aunts and uncles will move in with them later on. It’s ok. George won’t mind. Anything for a Section 8. He even said he hated to give one up himself when he was telling us about some other Section 8 nightmare he was evicting. Are there any Section 8s that aren’t nightmares? Makes me wonder.

Later…

The blue pickup just returned.

Holidays are no longer going to be peaceful out here. Holidays like Vet’s Day may be fine, but New Year’s Eve will be rocking. Christmas might even be too, since freeloaders tend to stay home on holidays and have people come to them. Heat and bad weather won’t put a damper on their outdoor antics, either.

God, I feel like I’m in the city that hated to see me go all over again, logging all these freeloading activities, bracing myself in the calm before the storm, knowing I’m in for all kinds of trouble. It’s fated to be and there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop or change it. Only this time, the outcome will differ from the last. I’m not going to jail!

Today’s one of those days where I have no energy whatsoever. I can’t even bring myself to work out. That’s partly cuz of the dreary weather as well as my depression/anger that God could do this to me yet again, and sic a pack of freeloaders on me. Yes, I think I want to move up north if we don’t go on a boat or to a retirement community where there’s a little more money and less trash like this. I’d rather the cold and the snow than this fucking bullshit year after year. I’m really fucking sick of this shit. I’m fed up and I don’t need to take this crap time and time again. A person should have the right to live in peace. Then again, even though there’s less of them up north, God would only see to it that I got stuck with them, so I don’t know. If I’ve got to live with them either way, I may as well do it where the climate’s nicer. I knew the northeast was riddled with Ricans, the southeast was riddled with Cubans, but I had no idea just how infested with scum Mexicans the southwest really was! It’s terrible. I still say there’s more of them than us, but if not, they’re doing a damn good job of catching up. They breed like mice, after all.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 2001 Saw Apple Cheeks, who says I can do the rest of my probation standing on my head.

Oh, I just can’t wait! Like I look soooo forward to it, too!

Anyway, the cheek’s schedule will be changing after the New Year. Instead of reporting to him the first two Fridays of the month, it’ll be the first and third Fridays of the month. See, I knew he wouldn’t be telling me to report just once a month anytime soon. He never will, either. In this state, I’m no better than a murderer.

At least he’s not bugging me here at home as much. Oh, how I wish those freeloaders would come and see me here! But they’re gutless wimps cowering behind the law. I don’t know, though, people like them, who think they’re invincible tend to get stupid. Stupidly brave. Maybe they will come and see me someday. I hope they do, but they damn well better be prepared to die for it! The question is, though, would they have the balls to face me directly, or would they just shoot at the house or try to burn it, then turn around and run? My only fear is that they’d probably be more likely to do shit to the house than to me. Maybe the black bitch is afraid of me like she was playing to be. She should be. I mean, technically, after all she’s put me and my husband through, she has every reason to fear me. Initially, she and her people weren’t afraid of me, but once they finally got a reaction, they probably did get a little scared after all. Maybe they’ll think the next time they pick on some other white neighbor.

At the same time, I fear they won’t “legally” go away. They know they can fuck me over through the law and get away with it. They’ve fucked me over and have gotten away with it for years, so I worry about that going to their heads. I really do. Some people just never stop. Enough is never enough, and I know obsession when I see it. Helen kept saying they don’t think of me, but I disagree. I think they think of me nearly every single day of their sorry lives. It used to be to think of how they could harass me noise-wise, but now it’s how they can use and abuse the law against me. I just hope I have an airtight alibi if and when they ever strike again because if they use the law and refuse to fight fair by directly facing me, there’s no way I stand a chance of beating them. I’m too white and too childless. I don’t have any pig friends, either. Vengeful, angry, bitter friends, hiding behind a label that says, “biased crimes.” All that black pig was out to do was “get even with whites.”

Again, I think of karma and all that, but again I truly believe that different people have different rules and standards set upon them by God. Just because I have to pay dearly for the smallest fuck-up, does not mean others have to as well. What have these freeloaders lost on account of me? A dog? Him living in that house with her? Wow! That’s an awful lot compared to what we lost now, isn’t it? Such poor, poor freeloaders. I know she didn’t lose the house on account of us. We would’ve heard about it if they did. The only thing that surprises me is why they moved out so quietly and civilizedly. If they were moving with nothing more to lose, why didn’t they blast us the fuck out? The stereo had to be broken. It had to be.

They say it’s therapeutic to write your thoughts and feelings down and all that, but I don’t know if I like this writing about the freeloaders almost as extensively as I used to when I lived with them, so I’m going to tune them out now. My freeloader ventilation spree is over for today.

When we came back, I noticed right away that the house smells much better now that there are no GPs here. If I ever get another one, I think it won’t be before the next 20 years.

Tom’s organizing his office now, so he tells me. Oh, I don’t want to hear it! So he organizes some of it, then gives up on it. Or he organizes it all, then trashes it a week later. Big deal.

I miss my Teddy Bear. I want my Teddy Bear. Oh, bear, how I came to love you so!

Little Buddy’s been really demanding attention lately. He sure does love to run around the house! He loves it when I share my treats with him, too. He licks my ice cream off of a knife.

The mice were cute earlier, sliding down tubes like little furry firemen.

Tom downloaded me this fingerspelling screen saver that spells words (musical instruments) but the thing that lets you create your own word list is disabled because we have the freeware version.

I wish I could get a sign language dictionary. That’d be so cool to have just like I have English and Spanish dictionaries.

Tom didn’t go to the PO Box during his vacation because it’s not worth spending the gas money to drive that far, so when he goes on Monday, I hope there’ll be something from Mary. And hopefully, she’ll have something to report to me about Teddy Bear. I wonder just how true it is about my theory about her going away along with me, so to speak. If I understood Mary, she hasn’t worked there as much since I left. Palma hasn’t worked there at all. I wish I could see her, if only for a second. Just steal a quick, secret peek at her to see what she looks like nowadays. I’d still love her, but I hope she hasn’t cut her hair off and decided to go short.

I feel like there’s something I’m forgetting to write about, but if I am, I haven’t remembered it yet. Therefore, I’ll just say that if I’m truly meant to lose this weight and keep it off for once, now’s the time I’ll do it. With the diet plan I’ll be on, there’s no reason why I shouldn’t lose 10-20 pounds unless I really do have a hell of a mental block about losing weight because of how I ended up gaining it back the last two times I lost weight. I’m starting it on Sunday. I’m starting with 1100 calories and I’m even cutting out gum. I’ll have two big 400-calorie servings of potatoes, a 180-calorie serving of roast beef, and a 120-calorie serving of corned beef. Next week I’ll drop down to 1040 calories because by then both meat servings will be corned beef only. And of course, I’ll be exercising, too.

I wrote much more than I meant to and am used to doing these days, and no, I haven’t started my autobiography yet. I will sooner or later, though. First I’m finishing up proofing Teddy Bear’s copy of the jail journal, then I’m going to hear it read back to me by the reader, then that’ll wrap up the Estrella saga.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 2001 I finally began what should’ve been done a year ago, and together, Tom and I picked up scattered bits and pieces of junk throughout the land. I didn’t realize just how much trash there was in the front wash way up near the freeloader’s property line. Makes me wonder if it’s their shit. They live like freeloaders, after all, with shit strewn everywhere. Most people out here live like pigs, though. It’s disgusting. But maybe it’s not theirs. Like Tom said, someone obviously gutted an old camper or trailer and that could’ve been anybody. The more I think about it, the more I think that with all the trash they already have on their land, they’d have gutted the thing right there on their own land.

Anyway, Tom’s going to rent or buy a small tractor one of these days to bury the shit and to use for other things.

It’s looking so much better out there now that we’ve picked up most of the junk that was out there and either put it in sheds, burned it or buried it. It’s looking more and more like a home, and whether we end up here 5 years or 20 years, we may as well take care of things and make them look nice. I know most people don’t care about appearances, especially outdoor ones, but I do. It looks so much nicer now when the weather’s nice enough to be out strolling around. The only thing that takes the fun out of strolling around is those damn ants. They’re everywhere!

I just wonder if Tom will keep his word this time around and not retrash the property. He either procrastinates, quits in the middle of projects, or goes and undoes what he did.

It kind of bothered me when he asked me to watch what I say since on a calm day like today, next door could hear us, and I was like - how many times do I have to tell you - I DON’T CARE! I’m sick of his being so neighbor-conscious. We don’t owe these people or anybody else in society shit and I’ll be damned if I’ll live my life worrying about how others might react to something I say. I don’t care. Period. I’ll wear what I want, say what I want, do what I want, and be myself. If others have a problem with it, then that’s their problem. I’m not saying I should have the right to walk out in public stark naked and call every black and Hispanic a name, then shoot them all dead, but I’m me and others are others. I don’t tell society how to be or how to act and nobody’s going to tell me either. Tom didn’t “tell me.” He asked. But still, I’m not going to live my life for neighbors and screen my speech for them. My life doesn’t revolve around them in any way shape or form unless they force their lives upon me like they did in Phoenix. They’re not a part of my business, and as long as they don’t make their business mine, I’m not going to consider them in my speech and plan around them. Hell, I was even forced to plan how I’d rearrange my furniture for neighbors in the city, for Christ’s sake, keeping furniture away from windows as much as I could! Well, no more!

I can’t believe Apple Cheeks still hasn’t shown up, though today’s a possibility. Either way, I’ve got the forced honor of seeing him tomorrow.

Teddy Bear died this morning before Tom got up. It’s too bad, but now it’ll be a bit less smelly and less expensive too, food and bedding-wise.

[arcanaaa]

This just occurred to me, but since Cana had started drinking, she has never really drank alone. She is always surrounded by people and it's always within a social setting or in celebration, but even when she drinks at the bar by herself, she's never alone. There's only one case where she drank alone, and that was on the day after Makarov announced the participants of the S-Class promotional trial.

I want to expand on this because this is pretty important to me regarding her character development and what essentially is the catalyst that sparks her conviction to really Become an S-Class Mage or Leave Fairy Tail. Something that I have mentioned before is that Cana very rarely ever drinks for the sole purpose of getting drunk. She never abuses alcohol because when she's in the company of the guild, with people that she loves and trusts, she's drinking to be social and to have fun.

But imagine for a moment that the same trial that you have spent for the better part of your life training to complete-- 13 fucking years to be exact --and that same trial comes back like clockwork and you've already failed four times, it wears on Cana mentally. The weight of her failure is a heavy burden-- and coupled also with the fact that her brother and lover former partner are joining the trial ( which surprise! Guess who didn't know that Loke was not only alive but also a spirit? Guess who thought that said person had spent what was supposedly their last moment together only to abandon them to 'die'? Guess who didn't bother to explain who or what they were and that the relationship they had was all on borrowed time and was essentially built on false hope? Huh, wow, it's a mystery that just won't be solved gang-- ) just twists the knife on her emotional state; so what better way to cope than binge drink at the local bars until she passes out in a dark alleyway alone and uncaring if anyone found her dead or alive.

Because let me tell you, if Lucy had not been the one to find Cana, there's no doubt in my mind that Cana would have been found by someone ( possibly, maybe, eventually although with her buried under bottles and snow, could we truly say that she would have been found alive? ), but it's dubious as to whether that someone would have been a good samaritan, and taken Cana back to the guild, let alone to the Magnolia hospital-- and that thought alone is chilling to realize later when Cana is sober. But it's the kick in the ass that instills almost a manic, desperate drive to devote all her time and energy to just focusing on the trial.

And That's It.

She can't afford to be distracted by anything else. No matter how amicable she is towards her guildmates, no matter how much she would like to stop and reconcile with Loke, no matter how much she'd just like to pretend that things are fine when he and Gray are there, she can't stop. Because if she stops, she fails. And if she fails, she leaves her family behind. And even if she doesn't want to, even if her heart screams at her that leaving is killing a core part of her being, she will because that's what she decided to do and that is the choice she will stand by.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙼𝙴𝙴𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝚄𝙽𝚂𝙾𝙽𝚂 - chapter 6: manic monday.

𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 - eddie tags along for a day in the life of a real adult: college, then work. and later, he lets you tag along for a night in the life of a starving artist.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 5.8k

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 - sexual conversation/talking about sex acts, more deceased parent discussions, vague description/mention of nude pictures, drug use mentions, really just fluff

Things were different after that— quieter.  Part of you couldn’t help but imagine it was the calm before the storm; mostly, you hoped it was the beginning of a new phase in your relationship with Eddie.  That phase being tolerance, maybe even a hint of friendliness.

You decided not to bring up what happened in Eddie’s van on the way home from school that day… because nothing actually happened.  How do you talk about something that didn’t even happen, anyways?  You could talk about what almost happened, if you actually were sure what that was.  It felt like, for a second, you were about to kiss— but every time you thought about it again, you convinced yourself that you were just misreading things.  Because he would never— and you would never—

You heard the door shut and straightened up, as if you were about to get caught, but on the outside all you were doing was eating your cereal.

“Morning,” Eddie greeted as he sauntered into the kitchen, shirtless and rubbing his eyes with his fist.  With a mouthful of Grape-Nuts, all you could offer was a quick nod in his direction.

It was dark for how late it was in the morning, since it was overcast outside, and the whole kitchen was a bit gray as a result.  Eddie stood out in some way, seeming to be more colorful and lively than everything else— but then again, he was the only living thing you were looking at, except for technically the daisies on the counter in the white ceramic vase.  Wayne had started bringing your mom flowers as often as he could get away with, and she kept them in the kitchen.  See how they just brighten everything up? she’d beam as she finished arranging them for display on the bar.  And you loved the way she smiled at them and tilted her head while she fluffed the petals up again.

Eddie was like that— he brightened up everything.  Even if he drove you up the wall sometimes, you could at least appreciate that.

He stood in the middle of the floor for a second, glancing around.  

“Where’s your mom?” he wondered.

“She had an errand to run,” you recalled, “something with… taxes… or something…”

He snorted.  “Grown-up stuff,” he shrugged.

“Yep,�� you agreed.

“What are you eating?” he asked.  You had to swallow another bite to answer.

“Grape-Nuts,” you replied, and he grimaced.

“You can eat that stuff?”  He shuddered when you nodded.  “You’re tougher than me.  I need my Lucky Charms— gives me my luck and my charm.”

You smirked a little and looked down at your bowl, stirring what was left around with the tip of your spoon.  You looked at him again when he reached up to the top shelf of the pantry to get the box of cereal— and as he did, you could finally make out the name on his ribs: Barbara.  "Who is she?" you blurted out.

"Huh?" 

You pointed to his ribcage, and he looked down as if he forgot he had the tattoo there.

"Oh— that's my mom.  Barbara Rose Broussard."

You felt guilty for almost being jealous before, having assumed it was a former lover or something.  "That's a nice way to remember her."

"I've got this for her, too," he explained as he extended his left arm out to you, showing you the long-stemmed rose inked into the skin there, extending from the inside of his elbow to about halfway down his forearm.  The pointed end of the stem reminded you of a needle; it was nestled right over the vein, too, and you wondered if that was intentional.

"I wish I had your pain tolerance," you smiled.  "Then again, I think the best thing I could do to honor my dad is not get any tattoos.  Or piercings.  Or boyfriends.  Ever."

Eddie snorted, grabbing the cereal and sitting down with the box at the table.  "He was strict, huh?"

"Sort of."

"No wonder you're such a goody two-shoes," he smirked, shoving his hand straight in and shoveling the chex and marshmallows into his mouth by the fistful.  "Still daddy's little girl, huh?"

“Aren’t you gonna use a bowl?  And a spoon?” you sneered.  “And milk?”

“Answer my question first,” he insisted.

You chewed your lip for a second.  "I guess so."

He kept smiling at you.  "I don’t like milk.  And I’m using nature’s spoons.”

“Nature’s unwashed, disease-ridden spoons,” you mumbled, sighing.

“Hey, they’re washed,” he defended just as he shoved his forearm back into the box, the motion accompanied by the loud crinkling of plastic and the rustling of the cereal.  “Think I’m walkin’ around with dirty hands?”

“Probably,” you raised an eyebrow.

“Nope,” he denied.  “Just a dirty mind.”

He winked at you just before he tossed back another handful of cereal, and you cleared your throat as you looked down at your own bowl, now empty.  "U-um, so, there's no school today, right?"

"Not for me," he smiled, "but you've got classes, right?"

"Just one," you corrected, "and then work."

"Take me with you, please?  I'm gonna be so fucking bored today."

“Bored?” you repeated incredulously.  “Figured you’d be planning your campaign or jamming with the band.”

“Jeff, robotics camp, remember?” he prompted.

“Right,” you nodded.  “I mean, I guess it would be kinda fucked up to make you drive me but then not let you come…”

He perked up.

“So I’ll take the bus,” you finished.

“Pleeeeeaase?” he whined.  “I mean, don’t you think I could use the education?”

It wasn’t a bad argument, actually; you glanced to the side.  “Well, my class is having a field day,” you remembered, chewing your lip as you considered it.

“They have field day in college?” he asked excitedly.

“No, like, my photography class is going in the field to take pictures,” you explained.

“Which field?”

“Not a literal field, Eddie,” you sighed, “we’re just going outside.”

It was exactly one hour later that he made you eat those words while you held your camera and watched your fellow classmates step through the tall grass in search of their perfect shot.

“I dunno, this looks like a field to me,” he noticed as he raised his arms, gesturing to the wide open clearing that Professor Hill had brought you all to.

“I didn’t think he’d actually make us photograph somewhere like this,” you defended, speaking quietly in case the professor heard you questioning his methods.

It was hot out— those ruthless Indiana summers were just around the corner— and you wiped your forehead with the back of your hand as you searched for something worthy of your camera’s attention.  In a landscape as empty as this, there wasn’t much to focus on… and whatever there was had already been snatched up by your classmates, and you were still hoping to come up with something original to shoot.

Eddie said he would help you look, too, but he had no idea what to look for.  In a couple minutes he seemed to be in his own daydream anyways, smiling to himself, swinging his legs a bit as he walked.  And then he was going in a big circle, trying to step in the exact same shoe print he’d left the last time around, making psh, psh sounds every time he placed his foot on the grass.  You rolled your eyes and ignored him, finding a torn leaf on the ground and reluctantly squaring up your camera to shoot it— no, it was hardly worth the film it would waste, but it was something.

You both turned when you heard someone coming up towards you, seeing your professor approaching Eddie; you stood up straight.

“You must be Edward,” Professor Hill smiled, extending a hand towards Eddie, who shook it eagerly.

“I knew it, she talks about me all the time,” Eddie joked with a grin.

“You were an excellent subject for her photograph series— such an expressive face!”

Eddie froze when the professor suddenly grabbed his face, leaning in closely and staring at him.

“These eyes!” he exclaimed.  "Like a turbulent storm on the sea at golden hour!  It's like I can see your troubled past, your hopes and dreams, just by looking into them!"

Eddie smiled nervously as he glanced at you.  "Is he always like this?" 

You laughed and shrugged.  Eddie breathed a sigh of relief as the professor let him go and stepped back.  “A talented young photographer and a natural muse!  What a perfect couple you make,” Professor Hill smiled coyly.

You and Eddie simultaneously began awkwardly laughing and stammering through several replies.

"Oh— we're not—" Eddie started.

"No, nonono," you choked.

"It's not like that," Eddie assured.

"Technically we're related!" you continued.

"Except not actually," he jumped in.

"But we aren't—" you continued.

"I mean, her?" Eddie scoffed.  "Never."

"He's— he's a freak!" you rushed.

You couldn't be sure how much of that Professor Hill had actually understood, considering you'd said it all at once, but he raised his hands up in relent.  "Okay, okay!  You're not a couple!  Got it."

As the professor turned on his heel and walked away to check on other students, you chewed your lip and Eddie played mindlessly with his hair.

"Let's, uh, find something to take some pictures of," you suggested, and Eddie nodded.

You both trudged through the grass as you looked for inspiration— all the grass and trees seemed the same, you weren't sure where to start.  It was probably some weird challenge that Professor Hill had come up with, to find inspiration in as bland a place as this.

"Heeeeeyyy, check this out," Eddie announced after a few minutes of searching with a grin, "these grasshoppers are totally doing it!"

You glanced where he was pointing in the grass to see two bright green insects on a stalk of grass together, joined at the end, and you grimaced.  "Real mature," you sighed.

"You should take a picture of this," he suggested.

"Yeah, I think I can do a little better than bug fucking."

George appeared suddenly, leaning in to speak softly to the two of you.  "You know, the female will eat the male after they're done mating."

"Thanks for the tidbit, George," Eddie offered sarcastically, shuddering as the other man disappeared to get back to his own photography.

"That's funny," you smirked, "'cause in the human world, the female is lucky if the male eats her at all."

Eddie cleared his throat, and when you looked at him, he was looking a little flushed.  Maybe it was just the heat?  Sweat was making his hair stick to his forehead, after all— but maybe you finally got to him.  You smiled proudly to yourself at the thought.

“Niiice,” Eddie crooned with a nod when he saw you in your work uniform for the first time.  It was just a red vest with a nametag, but it still managed to be the most unflattering thing any person could wear, and you crossed your arms self-consciously as you frowned.

“I don’t even know why they make me wear this thing, I’m almost never at the counter.”

“Where are you usually?” he asked.

“The darkroom,” you explained, “but today I’m covering the register for a half hour until Kevin gets here.”

“Kevin, your coworker?” 

“No, Kevin the President of Zimbabwe— yes, he’s my coworker,” you sighed, unlocking the register and opening the tray, counting the money before you officially clocked in.

Of course, you weren’t exactly supposed to have friends (or step-family) loitering around the counter with you when you were working— and the darkroom was strictly employees only.  But you let him do both, because it was a slow day and it turns out people are willing to pay to have their pictures developed whether or not some weird kid is sitting on the back counter, swinging his feet and eating candy he took from the shelves and didn’t pay for.

The first customer wanted a whole roll of film in eight-by-tens— her son’s birthday party; the second was a professional turning in wedding photos.  Then there was a half hour of nothing, and you read your book while Eddie threw Red Hots in the air to try to catch them in his mouth.

You glanced up from your book, watching him open his mouth wide and lean to the side only for the candy to hit his cheek and land on the dark green carpet.  “You look ridiculous,” you mumbled to him as you shook your head.

“You want one?” he offered, holding his hand up like he was about to throw it at you— you ducked instinctively even though he never let go of it.

“No,” you frowned, making him shrug and toss the candy up for himself (and he caught it that time).  “Didn’t you want to come with me so you wouldn’t be bored at home?”

“Yeah,” he answered flatly as he chewed on the candy— his teeth were starting to turn red.

“How’s that working out for you?” you asked sarcastically, but his answer was totally genuine.

“Great!” he beamed.

“How?!” you yelped.  “We’re not even doing anything.”

He shrugged again.  “We don’t have to.”

You didn’t quite know what he meant by that, but thankfully your time at the counter ended just ten minutes later, after one more customer came in to pick up their prints that had been developed yesterday.  That was when you got to properly break the rules and show Eddie the darkroom.

“Woah,” he noticed as he walked in behind you.  “Kinda spooky in here.”

“You get used to it,” you assured.

“I know this is a stupid thing to say but, uh,” he said as he looked around, “it’s really dark.”

“Yeah, it’s stupid,” you agreed, “but I get what you mean.”

You were already setting up the chemical bins while he was still exploring, though there really wasn’t much to see.  There wasn't anywhere to go either, the small room was really meant for just one person at a time.  It wasn’t awkwardly cramped, except when Eddie wanted to see what you were working on and had to squeeze between the two tables of bins— forcing him to press up to your back to fit.  “So, what’s all this?” he asked quietly.

“Well, this is the developer,” you explained as you motioned to one bin filled with semi-clear liquid, pointing at each one as you went, “that’s the soft bath, aaaaand that’s fixer.”

“Cool, cool,” he nodded thoughtfully.  “And, what does that mean?”

You snorted.  “You put the blank picture in the developer, and that makes it start, well, developing.  You put it in the stop bath to make it stop so it doesn’t over develop.  And the fixer sort of, like, seals it so it won’t be affected by light anymore— once it dries, that is.”

“Okay, that actually makes some sense,” Eddie agreed.  

“So, we’re gonna pop open all these canisters and load the film onto the reel,” you explained.

“Then what?” 

“Then,” you continued, sighing slightly as you exerted some force on the plastic containers to get the film out, “that goes in that tank.”

Eddie looked at where you were motioning with your head.  

“And after that, well, you’ll see,” you decided, tiring of the explanations.

He leaned in over you to get a closer look at the strip of negatives as you unraveled it.  You turned and stared at his profile for a second; by the dark red light, Eddie looked different— it seemed to show off the angle of his jaw more, but you couldn’t see the color of his eyes like usual.

“It’s kinda crazy,” he noticed, “you get to have a glimpse into these people’s lives, you get to make their moments last forever.”

“Taking the picture makes it last forever,” you corrected. “I’m just the one that makes it look decent.”

You couldn’t see details while the negatives were this small, but when you leaned in close, you could get the gist— a kid in a bathing suit with floaties on their arms, a dog running through the sprinklers.  

It all looked pretty typical, so you loaded it onto the reel and opened the next canister.

“What kind of weird stuff do you see come through here?” he wondered.

“I mean, mostly it’s just—”

"Somebody's mom's homemade Playboy shots?" he assumed with a laugh.

You sighed.  "You joke, but that's a lot of my job."

"Nice," he grinned.

"Not at all," you rolled your eyes.  "If people wanna take dirty pictures, can't they have the decency to do it on instant film?"

"Hey, you've got a Land camera," he remembered with a grin, "you ever taken any little naughties on that?"

"Of course not," you scoffed.  "Do I seem like someone who would do that?"

"No, that's why it would be hotter if you did," he explained.  "It's never the ones you expect, anyway."

"How would you know?" you challenged.  "Nobody's ever given you one, have they?"

"Well, no…"

As he trailed off, you smiled and held up a strip of film, dangling it in the air.  "I think we've got a live one here, if you wanna take a peek," you offered.

He should've known not to fall for that.  "Oh god!” he grimaced as soon as he leaned in to look at the negatives.  “So much hair!"

"This guy is relentless," you laughed.  "I can't tell if someone else is taking them for him or if he sets up a timer or what, but he has a roll of film developed almost monthly— and they’re all like this.”

“So he comes here and makes some innocent college kid develop his full frontal shots?” Eddie realized.  “That’s messed up.  Get your ya-ya’s however you want, but don't inflict it on the poor employees of the Rite Aid photo counter…"

“Oh look!  He’s doing lunges in this one,” you tried to move the negative closer to his face, but Eddie tilted  his chin up and looked at the ceiling.

“I’m already scarred for life, thanks.”

“Just wait til the ones where he bends over and—”

“AAAHH,” Eddie yelled and plugged his ears with his fingers.

“Okay, okay!  I’m loading it on the reel, you’re safe,” you promised, and he calmed down.  “I didn’t know you were so squeamish.”

“Listen, there are worse things to look at than a naked dude,” Eddie decided, crossing his arms, “but I guess I forgot that it’s not only good-looking people who take pictures of themselves in the buff.”

“It… very rarely is,” you promised.  “I guess if you’re someone people want to see naked, you don’t need to do DIY nudie shoots.  You can have them done by the professionals.”

“Well, if you ever feel like switching careers, that probably pays better than this,” Eddie offered, and you chuckled awkwardly.

“I’ll stay on this side of the camera, thanks,” you decided, “and I don’t think there would be much of an audience for that.”

“C’mon, would you quit saying stuff like that?” he groaned.  “I don’t know if chicks think pretending not to know they’re hot is attractive or something—”

“Eddie, I’m not pretending,” you insisted, “I’m not— I don’t look like that.”

“Like a porn star?  No, you don’t,” he laughed, “that doesn’t mean you’re not hot.”

“Isn’t that what every guy really wants, though?” you shrugged.

“I mean, I would be remiss to speak for every guy… but I think most guys just want a normal girl— you know, pretty, but real,” he explained.  “The perfect girl doesn’t look like a porn star… she just acts like one.”

You snorted; “So, she fucks the pizza boy?”

“So you have seen porn!”

“What?!  I—” you stammered.  “I’ve just heard about it.”

“Uh huh, sure,” he replied disbelievingly.  “You never rented a dirty movie?”

“Not even once,” you shook your head.

“Never even saw one somebody else rented?”

“Why are we talking about this?”

“I knew it!” he clapped his hand, making you jump.  “You’re not that innocent.”

“I never said I was innocent,” you shrugged, suddenly feeling more aware of Eddie standing just behind you.  

“Did you watch it at a sleepover or something?” he interrogated.

“Yeah,” you rolled your eyes, “me and my five hottest friends all got together and watched it in our skimpy little PJ’s, then we had a pillow fight and the losing team had to make out with each other as punishment.”

“My brain knows you’re being sarcastic,” he sighed, “but my heart wants to believe you so much.”

You just laughed and loaded up another reel for the tank.

“And my dick already believes you.”

“Ew!  Eddie, I don’t wanna know anything about your dick,” you lied.

“So, what’s the real story?” he wondered.  “Gary talked you into watching it, didn’t he?”

You nodded, more focused on the work you were trying to get done.

“Babysitter and pizza delivery boy?” he continued.

“Actually, she was just a regular college student,” you remembered.

“But she ordered it with extra sausage?” 

“Yup.”

“And the pizza wasn’t the only thing that didn’t get eaten?” he assumed.

“No, she—”

“Not her,” he corrected, voice lowering slightly, “you.”

“That’s none of your business,” you snapped.

“You were talking about it before!  With the grasshoppers!”

“Yeah, well, that’s only ‘cause George set me up,” you explained, “I don’t normally go advertising that kind of stuff.”

“I’m just saying, if Gary Thompson wasn’t absolutely horrible in bed, I’ll eat my shoe,” he announced.  

“What makes you so sure?”

“Well, for one, he just has that look about him,” he listed, “and second off, you’re too uptight for me to believe somebody was givin’ it to you right.”

You sharply shot your elbow back into his gut, making him groan and keel over partially. 

“Okay, okay, outta line,” he choked out an apology.

“Gary wasn’t bad,” you answered.  “No, it wasn’t like the romance novels— I don’t think it’s ever like that, anyways— there weren’t, like, fireworks or anything… but he wasn’t bad.  And you should go.”

“Aw, come on—” he began to protest.

“You can drive yourself home, and I’ll get a ride with Kevin.”

“Wait, please,” he whined, “I’m sorry— I shouldn’t have asked you personal stuff.  I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you!” you said in that tone that made it impossible to believe.  “You’re not supposed to be in here, it’s employees only— just leave now while the reels are in the tank and it’s still okay to open the door and let the light in—”

“I’m sorry,” he pouted, resting his chin on your shoulder, which made you freeze.  “Don’t make me leave, please?  We were having fun…”

“No, you were having fun,” you corrected, shutting the film tank a little more forcefully than you needed, “by pissing me off on purpose.”

“Okay, what’s your idea of having fun with me?” he asked.

You cleared your throat, because you didn’t like your first instinct when he asked that question.  “I dunno,” you stalled, “me slapping you around for a while?”

“Mm, I can get into that,” he agreed lowly.

“See?  You’re doing it again.  I can’t even say anything around you ‘cause you make it weird.”

“It’s only ‘cause you set me up,” he returned, making you shiver slightly as he turned his face to speak into your ear— he was so close, you could almost feel his lips against your skin when he whispered: “I wish you wouldn’t pretend that you hate me.”

Though it took more bravery than you thought you had, you turned to look at him, too— and you’d never seen him this up close before.  “I wish you wouldn’t pretend that it’s not obvious how I feel about you,” you challenged with a venomous smile.  

But he just smiled back at you— much sweeter than your own.  “Oh, it’s obvious,” he agreed.

Swallowing, you turned back to your work and he stood up straight again.  You knew he wouldn’t leave unless you made him, and honestly, you just didn’t feel like it.  You kept working, and he kept standing there.

“What… what do you do now?” he asked hesitantly after a couple minutes of silence, like he was afraid you’d kick him out if you remembered he was standing here.

“I put it in the developer, like I said,” you sighed; he was lucky that opening the door now would ruin the photos.

You let him stay, and thankfully he was much less irritating after that, simply watching you do your job and asking the occasional questions.  He was even impressed when you hung the photos up to try and he could start to see the image coming through.  “Wow, it just… shows up?”

You nodded.

“That’s cool.”

It might seem small, but someone giving half a fuck about your interest felt really nice.  Most people could appreciate a decent photo, but nobody ever cared about the work that went into it, least of all working in a darkroom which you’d been told many times was terminally geeky.

Guess it takes someone with interests as uncool as metal and D&D to show some respect for photography.

“Thanks,” you said quietly.

The next day, when you came home from class (you’d gotten a ride from Pete, which you decided not to mention to Eddie), you heard the music coming from your room before you even shut the front door.

“All your life you had to stand in line, still you're standing on your feet,” you heard Eddie singing, not entirely on key as his acoustic guitar provided the chords.  He started the line over, and hit the note this time: “All your life you had to stand in line, still you’re standing on your feet, all your choices made you change your mind…”

You tried to quietly shut the door so he wouldn’t hear you, and therefore wouldn’t stop, before delicately creeping up to the half-open door.

“Don't wait for answers, just take your chances, don't ask me why…”

There was a brief guitar interlude, a pretty good adaptation of what was originally a piano solo, and you set your backpack down on the ground slowly as you propped yourself up with one hand on the wall.

“You can say the human heart is only make believe, and I am only fighting fire with fire,” you heard his voice get a little louder as you leaned by the doorway, “but you are still a victim of the accidents you leave, sure as I’m a victim of a desire…”

You bit your lip, for some reason remembering when Eddie drove you home again, your heart twisting as you convinced yourself again that what you thought maybe might have happened wasn’t about to happen.

“Yesterday you were an only child,” he sang softly, “now your ghosts have gone away—”

You leaned the wrong way and the floorboard under the carpet creaked; you winced, hearing Eddie stop.

“You out there, sis?” he called to you.

“I still don’t want you to call me that,” you replied back in an awkward mumble, stepping into his view with your arms crossed.

“I know,” he smiled.

“That’s a good album,” you nodded.  “Glass Houses— kinda nostalgic for me.”  You smiled to yourself as you remembered being twelve and thinking you were so mature and subversive for knowing that Sometimes a Fantasy was about phone sex.

“Well, I noticed you own it,” he gestured to your records shelf, which was still overstuffed now that it had to accommodate his collection as well.  

“Didn’t peg you for a Billy Joel fan, though,” you noticed.

“I mean, I dunno about fan, but I think his lyrics are kinda funny,” he smiled.  “And this album is his best work— even though it’s far too quiet for my tastes.  All for Leyna would rock so hard if it weren’t for all the keyboards.”

“Only you would complain about Billy Joel songs having too much piano,” you sighed and rolled your eyes.  “Let me guess— Louis Armstrong should ditch the trumpet, too?”

“I didn’t know you knew Jonathan Byers,” Eddie blurted out suddenly, and you knitted your eyebrows together.  “You mentioned him, when the Hellfire guys came over.”

“Right,” you hummed, wondering what made him bring that up now.  “Well, it was a friendship borne of necessity.  He was the only other photography geek at Hawkins High— he was a year behind me so we didn’t see each other that much, but yeah, we hung out.”

“So you weren’t very close?” he pressed, and you shook your head.  “Well, that’s a shame— he seemed alright, I guess.”

“You knew him?”

“I mean, know is a strong word, but… I sold to him once or twice.”

“Ah,” you nodded.  “You know, I think he told me that.”

“You never smoked with him?”

“No,” you answered.

“Darn,” he snapped his fingers, “would’ve been kinda funny if you smoked my stuff way back when.  But it’s not too late—”

“Ed, I’m not a stoner,” you insisted.

“Right, right,” he relented, “I’m just saying, we could get high together sometime…”

“Together?  That’s even worse,” you frowned.

“But you’re still coming to my show tonight, right?”

Yes, there was one part of that drive home you still talked about— when he invited you to see his band play.  You took him up on it, because apparently you had some kind of self-destructive instinct and weren’t satisfied enough with the hearing damage you’d received just from hearing Eddie rehearse alone (when he was on the Warlock, that is; you didn’t mind the acoustic, hence your eavesdropping).

Unfortunately, catching a ride to the show with Eddie meant having to get there extra early for the set-up process.  Poor Gareth seemed to have an infinite supply of drums he had to unload from his parents’ trunk; and Eddie just seemed to have way more pedals than you expected.

You got through two cranberry juices while they were still only getting ready— at a certain point you wondered if they were just trying to act like they were setting up to play, because how many cords do you need to unravel when there are only three electric instruments?!  And then there was the tuning, dear god the tuning, it went on for ages.  Did none of them think to tune before arriving?

Finally, Eddie tapped the microphone, and you sighed as you adjusted in the uncomfortable wooden chair.  “Check one two, check one two… a Slovakian hooker and a Czech one too—”

You tried not to snort at that, because it wasn’t funny, but you were desperate for any sort of entertainment after waiting that long.

“Okay, uh, hi everybody,” Eddie greeted, still fiddling with his guitar’s dials as he spoke, the mic ringing with a touch of feedback at first.  “We’re glad you could make it out…”

You looked around the ‘crowd’, which is a very generous word for six middle-aged men scattered around the tables, not even looking over their shoulders to see the band playing— plus you, right in the middle-front of the room, looking up at the ‘stage’, which is a very generous word for a half-step up covered in old dirty rugs.

“Anyways, uh…” Eddie cleared his throat.  “This first song is about drugs!”

Although that got a couple people to clap semi-sarcastically, that was all the attention they got as they started to play.  You recognized the lead guitar part as something Eddie had been working on for a while, but it sounded better with all the other instruments behind it.  The bassist, Greg, was really good, too— not that any of them were bad, but he stood out considering you’d never heard him play before.

Gareth tried to spin his drumsticks a few times and always dropped them, which made you suppress a laugh; Jeff started to sweat when harder parts of the song were coming up.

Only Eddie looked completely in his element like this.  The other three were working, but Eddie looked like he was oddly relaxed.  Some of those songs, when he played them, seemed to take him somewhere else.

You dutifully clapped after each one finished, even offering the occasional half-hearted woo!, but it was more awkward when no one else was doing it.

“Okay, this is our last song,” he announced after they’d finished playing your favorite one so far, apparently titled Devil Woman and more literal than you expected with a name like that.  Usually the women in songs were proverbial devils, but considering the line about what he wanted her to do with her long red tail, it seemed a little more than just a metaphor.

You were more disappointed than you expected to find out they were only playing six songs— but hopefully this final one would be a good cap to the night, and then you could go home and go to sleep.  

“Well, this one’s actually not our song,” he admitted, “and it’s also not our style.  Or our taste.  At all.”

You quirked an eyebrow, but waited for more.

“But it goes out to the only person who’s here to see us and not just to get trashed,” Eddie finished his preamble.  That was you, right?  He was talking about you.

Gareth counted them off, and when Eddie and Jeff started playing the riff, you recognized it, but you couldn’t place it.  Only when Eddie returned to the mic and started singing did you know what song they were playing.

“Friday night I crashed your party,” he sang with a little smirk on his face, “Saturday I said I’m sorry, Sunday came and trashed me out again…”

You know, if he’d asked first, you would’ve told him a Billy Joel cover by a crappy metal band would be horrible… but it actually almost worked?  Funny enough, it engaged the rest of the crowd more than what they’d played before— which sort of made sense, considering the look of the patrons here.

“And you told me not to drive, but I made it home alive, and you said that only proves that I’m insane.”

Jeff had come up to the microphone to sing harmonizing vocals, and while he didn’t have a beautiful voice per se (let’s be real, neither did Eddie), they were both smiling and it just made you smile, too.

“Remember how I found you there, alone in your electric chair— I told you dirty jokes until you smiled,” he went on, “you were lonely for a man, I said take me as I am, ‘cause you might enjoy some madness for a while—”

You found yourself singing along under your breath, and bouncing your leg to the beat.  You noticed some similar energy from the men at the bar, even the ones who had looked the most disinterested at first.

“If I’m crazy then it’s true, that it’s all because a’you, and you wouldn’t want me any other way…”

[scarletta-ruan]

Oh, oh can i still request kunikida and chuuya react (separate) when his female s/o accident call him "mom" when he scold/take care her and after that she run away? (If you don't mind can you add dazai's react in kunikida's s/o case?)

KUNIKIDA AND CHUUYA REACT WHEN HIS S/O ACCIDENTALLY CALLS HIM "MOM" WHEN THEY SCOLD/TAKE CARE OF HER AND AFTER THAT SHE RUNS AWAY

WARNING: OOC, upset or angry!characters, mention of character being called mom, reader is female btw

TYPE: Headcanon

PAIRING: Chuuya Nakahra || Doppo Kunikida x fem!reader (separately)

WORDCOUNTS: 700 words

NOTES: Writing this one is cute as if they called them their mom, though. But I don't think they like it after all, but if you sincerely apologize to them they might forgive you. This request takes a long time than I think since it was kinda hard for me to write it.

1. Chuuya Nakahara

If you dared to call Chuuya your mom, then congratulations on your saying. Because… only God would know what Chuuya did after you called him your mom. 

Believe in me, please! I just told you the truth. 

Let’s imagine that you had just got back from home after a tiring day, putting your shoes messily on the doorstep and also threw away your bag near the front door. And you had just done the things that Chuuya hated most, making you two shared an apartment a mess. But you did that because you knew he was not home yet.

An hour later Chuuya got home. He saw a mess you made at the front door, what should he do? Of course, Chuuya was going to scold you without any doubt. 

And when he found you, Chuuya would scold you immediately.

“What are you doing? Putting all of the things in the house everywhere like that? Do you know that I have to clean the house when I have just gone home, huh?”

That was when you said sorry to him and accidentally called him mom.

At first, he would be angry if he heard you accidentally call him like that, Chuuya would frown then angrily look at you with his upset gray eyes and ask you to confirm again.

“Tell me, small candy. Have you just called me your mom?”

If you nodded your head to confirm what you had just called him. Then, yeah, I knew that you would go to die with him, no doubt. 

Let's just discuss the punishment he did for you if you ran away. Whispering Chuuya would punish you by not letting you have your favorite food, and he would not give any permission for you to hug him or kiss him for a day. And yeah, when you told him that you were so sorry and you did not mean it after being punished by him then you were able to kiss and hug him again.

2. Doppo Kunikida

I don’t think that Kunikida would like this. I mean… even if you accidentally called him mom or not, he would be very angry if you said that.

Let’s imagine that Kunikida was scolding you because you did not take care of yourself when he was too busy with his work.

And I may give you some examples about it like, you always ate instant noodles because you were so lazy to make meals just only for you, or always stayed up late.

As your boyfriend, Kunikida had to take care of things about you. That was the reason why he scolded you, and when you said sorry to him but accidentally called him mom.

Kunikida would freeze for a moment and then ask what you had just called him.

“W-What are you saying?”

When you realized what you were saying you said sorry immediately and told him that you did not mean to say that. You would know that Kunikida would be sad if you called him your mom, he would sigh and not say anything else but told you that he had to work until midnight and you should go to bed soon. 

“I have to work late tonight, don’t worry about me. Just go to your bed first, if you are so tired.”

I guess when you had to run far away from Kunikida not to get him to hit you, but when you did not see him chase after you then you would have to return back to that place just to look at his face. Gosh! His face made you feel guilty. Believe me, if you looked at Kunikida’s upset face you would swear that if you could have a chance to go back to the time you accidentally called him you would not do it. 

That was when you decided to make him something hot which was good for his stomach since he had to work at night. At first, when Kunikida saw you, he would not pay any attention to you because he was too busy with his paperwork. 

That caused you to misunderstand that he was still upset about you, then you wrapped your arms around him, chin leaned on his soothing hair, and said sorry to him. Kunikida would be very surprised because he did not understand anything, and when you told him the reason he just chuckled and turned around to kiss your forehead and said he did not mind anything at all but since you were sincere so he would forgive you.

 “Gosh! Don’t worry about it. I don’t even want you to make that face again, so promise me you won’t do that, okay.”

And yeah, that was Kunikida’s punishment for your little heart.

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Right Where You Left Me

Summary: Y/N never expected to see him again. He tore her heart out and left her in the dusty heat of a Las Vegas diner. She never wanted to see him again, but sometimes the heart wants what heart wants.

Word Count: 3.7k

Author's Note: This is the first prompt that I wrote for 400 followers and it is based on Right Where You Left Me. Some background info: Spencer and Reader (Female pronouns) were lovers when they were 23, Spencer left to join the FBI and Y/N never recovered.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Content Warning: Angst till the very end, one use of f--k, reader cuts her hand on glass so blood is mentioned.

Right Where You Left Me

2009, Enterprise Diner, Las Vegas, Nevada

The bell above the door always sounds the same, no matter who walks into the little diner. Whether it’s exhausted truckers looking for a cheap cup of coffee or lonely souls looking to be a little less lonely for even an hour, the bell’s chime is always the same.

From the first time she met Spencer Reid, Y/N knew that boy was destined for greatness. His greatness is exceptionally painful when it juxtaposes her intense ordinariness. Part of her always dreams of the bell ringing and telling her that he’s back. He’s back and would no longer just haunting her dreams. But he isn’t back. He isn’t back and she’s right where he left her.

Y/N wipes the counter with a worn napkin, noticing how her skin is cracked from her fingertips to the butt of her palms. The bell rings and Y/N picks up her head. An elderly couple walks in holding hands. It’s amazing to her, to be that old and that in love. She wonders what it would be like to have the kind of love that you’ll never run out of things to say. If her past has taught her anything, Y/N tells herself she’s not the kind of girl that gets a lifelong romance. She’s not the kind of girl that gets someone who gets her.

She’s the kind of girl that’s frozen in the place right where he left her.

September 2012, Enterprise Diner, Las Vegas, Nevada

“One of these is not like the other,” Sabrina says in a singsong kind of voice. She walks out from behind the counter, finished with her shift. She wishes Y/N good night before she leaves the diner, telling her to lock up and handle the clean up. The busboy makes his way to the table of men with two kinds of coffee, decaf and regular, in her hands. Y/N follows, rolling her eyes, behind with three coffee mugs.

Apparently, there is a missing child case and the FBI has gotten involved. The two men, dressed intimidatingly in black suits and gray ties, looked very different from the younger man who sat across from them. It only took her a second to recognize that face. It’s the face of all her dreams that at one point was just out of reach. But now it’s just the face of rejection and hurt.

Before she even realizes it, the coffee mug that Y/N holds in her hand drops and shatters on the floor. The men, even vigilant, turn towards the noise. Y/N wanting to disappear into the night, drops to the floor to clean up the glass. She hears a shuffle from the booth and in comes a pair of well-worn converse into her field of vision.

“Here,” he says, his voice just soft and steady as ever, “let me, Y/N,”

Y/N drops the glass like it burns her. But in reality, she’s trying to get as far away as possible from Spencer, because she knows if she touches him again, she’ll never be able to survive letting go.

Spencer.

Spencer Reid crouches down before her just inches from her face all these years later. It seems unbelievable to see him in the flesh, but it’s him, even if he looks a little older and a little sadder.

“Thank you. I’m going to get you a new cup. I remember how much you love coffee,” Y/N whispers, wishing again that she could turn into the wind and disappear.

Y/N tries to ignore the way Spencer’s co-workers eye him when he returns to the seat. Clutching the pieces of glass, Y/N cuts her thumb. The dark red blood rushes out and she can feel her pulse rise. She wraps a white cloth over the cut. By the time she gets to Spencer’s table, the blood has pooled to the surface. She places the cups on the table, turning to leave, but a strong, yet gentle hand grasps her elbow.

“You’re bleeding?” Spencer says, his voice ends on a high note like he’s asking her more than telling her.

“Yeah, it’s fine Spencer. I’ll take care of it later, it’s just-”

“Let me help you,” he says, the two men, his co-workers, share a thoughtful glance. Y/N has the sneaking suspicion that they can read her mind or very much close to it.

She narrows her eyes at Spencer as her thumb pulsates and the blood soaked napkin grows even more red.

“Last time I checked you’re not a real doctor,” Y/N says, the venom in her voice all too apparent. The man sitting across from Spencer with the kinder eyes puts his hands up in defeat.

“What the hell is going on here? Do you know her or something, Spencer?” he says, his confusion about who Y/N is growing into frustration by the second. The man sitting next to the man with the kind eyes doesn’t say much. Y/N expects that he’s soaking in the entire interaction or is too tired to care about his co-worker’s personal drama.

“Huh, you didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell you FBI friends about me, Spencer? Huh, can I say that I’m not surprised by that at all,” Y/N responds, fumbling with managing to pour the coffee and covering her cut with the napkin.

“Please, Y/N you’re being ridiculous, let me help you,” Spencer asks or rather, begs Y/N. Y/N tries to not let him know how much it affects her when he rubs his thumb on the crook of her elbow.

“Fine, make it quick Spencer, I’m closing up tonight and I want to get home soon,” Y/N says, walking away from the table before Spencer can even get the chance to get up from the booth.

Y/N is too far past the booth to hear Spencer whisper to his co-workers that he’ll find his own way back to the hotel. She runs her thumb under the running water, watching as the blood clears up, revealing her clean finger. Y/N can feel Spencer’s looming presence behind her. She can smell his cologne and thinks if he cans any closer she’d be able to feel his body heat.

“You’re not supposed to be back here, Spencer,” Y/N says, she knows she’s being short and clippy with Spencer, but she supposes that should be expected, considering how he left her all those years ago.

“That never stopped me, or you for that matter before,” Spencer says, taking a step forward. His hand comes up to gently hold Y/N’s. She can feel his fingertips on her skin for the first time in years. Y/N has to close her eyes to focus on anything but how close Spencer’s body is to her’s. It’s restraint in it’s finest.

“Things have changed, Spencer. People have changed,” Y/N says, she doesn’t make a move that tells Spencer she doesn’t like him touching her. Spencer, whose hands have a slight tremor as they hold Y/N’s, practices an equal amount of restraint as Y/N does. He has to stop the thoughts of what it would be like to feel his hand against her hand again or how she’d sound if he could muster up the courage to kiss her again. He can’t even think of the first place he’d want to kiss her if he had the chance again.

“I’ve changed, Y/N, I’ve changed,” Spencer says, knowing fully that he’s pleading with the girl whose heart he broke 7 years ago.

“I have a hard time believing that one, Spencer. You were always the exception to the rule, whether you liked it or not,” she tells him. Her voice has lost all venom. It’s bare to the world without any weapons to wield.

“Let me fix you up and I’ll be out of your life again,” He says, still holding on to her wrist, still holding on to hope.

Y/N nods and tells him where he can find the first aid kit. She watches as he reaches up to the top shelf and carefully places the kit on the counter. Y/N holds out her hand as Spencer takes an alcohol wipe to her wound. He grimaces more than she does, afraid that somehow, all these years later, he’s still causing her pain. What he doesn’t know is that his touch stings more than the strongest rubbing alcohol in existence.

“So,” Spencer starts, hating that there’s silence between the two of them, when a decade ago that would have been impossible, “how’ve you been?”

“I’m good, Spence, I’ve been good. All I ever wanted was a quiet life, and I guess that’s what I got,” Y/N says, Spencer knows her answer is cordial. It's an answer that you give when you really don’t want to give an answer.

“That’s good, Y/N. I’m happy for you,” Spencer says, he doesn’t realize that he’s been rubbing his thumb against Y/N palm until she reaches into the first aid kit and tosses a band-aid at him. Spencer blushes slightly, but thinks that he’s not offending her too much since he’s still at the diner.

“What about you, Spence? Did you ever find uh….someone that could…” Y/N says, her voice trailing off, too afraid to finish the sentence herself, but aware that Spencer is probably the only person on Earth that could fill in the blanks. He was always good like that, he could always fill in her blanks and make sense of her senseless.

“Find someone, like a wife?” Spencer asks, the blush returning to his cheeks, “no, Y/N I’m not married. Are..are you? Do you have, um, a husband?” Spencer asks, hating the way that he stumbles over the word “husband” like it’s a dirty word. Though he supposes that it is a dirty word when Y/N’s husband is not synonymous with Spencer Reid.

“God no, Spence. I couldn’t not after, you know,” Y/N says, again letting Spencer fill in the blanks and hoping beyond belief that he’d pick up the pieces too. Spencer looks over at where his co-workers sat when they were working, he can't say he’s disappointed to see that they are gone.

“I never really apologized for what I said to you, Y/N. I know that I’ll never make it up to you, but..”

“It’s okay, Spencer. You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true, I’m just a waitress. And you, god. You are you. How could I ever think that I’d get a happily ever after with someone like you,” Y/N says, brushing past Spencer to collect the coffee mugs from the table.

“Please Y/N don’t believe that for a second,” Spencer says, his voice full of pain and regret.

Y/N thinks about the times that she would dream of seeing him again. She can’t remember if she’d rather him to be sorry or if she'd rather him rush back to her and sweep her off her feet again with a love confession that rivals the greatest stories ever told. But then again, waitresses don’t get knights in shining armor. Especially when those knights wear sweater vests, despite being in law enforcement. Spencer always loved facts, and he told it to her in a few more words than necessary, people like Spencer Reid don’t end up with people like Y/N Y/LN.

“You still think too highly of me, even after I hurt you, I can’t apologize enough for what I did to you,” Spencer says, hanging his head low. His hair, that’s grown much longer, falls into place over his eyes, as if it’s shielding Spencer from Y/N.

“Did you come here tonight thinking I’d be here? Did a part of you still want to see me?” Y/N asks, she wants to reach out and touch Spencer’s hand, she wants to reach out and feel that his hand is still the same hand that would caress her face and make all her worries vanish. But it’s hard when that hand is attached to the man who destroyed you.

“I didn’t think you’d still work here, Y/N. You always hated living in the desert. Remember how we talked of getting a place somewhere cold where you can see the snow, but still be warm-”

“And safe inside? Yeah, Spencer, I remember that. But that was our dream, how can I still want that when it’s tainted by you,” Y/N spits, walking towards the last booth in the row. She plops down, sinking into the plastic covered cushion. Spencer, nervously, sits down next to her. He doesn’t say anything, knowing how Y/N’s bated breath and tapping foot tell him she’s going to unleash 7 years of pent of hatred and frustration. And somehow, 7 years of desire and want and love.

“I lied Spencer,” Y/N says, looking down at the table. “I lied. I hate it here, you’re right. God, why are you always right?” She smiles wickedly and Spencer has to tell himself to not give way to his emotions. He needs to let Y/N finally release her justified anger onto him.

“You moved on, Spencer. You moved on and I’m right where you left me,” Y/N’s strained voice is perhaps noise that Spencer knows will haunt his nightmares, “It’s like I’m a ghost of that girl I was when I was 23, waiting for someone who’s moved on. Waiting for you, but god, no one wants to love someone so fucking pathetic,”

Spencer wants to react, he wants to reach out a kiss away Y/N tears that fall down her cheeks. He wants to make her pain go away, but how can he when he’s her pain. Spencer knew he never wanted to end up like his father, yet sitting in that corner booth watching Y/N cry, Spencer realizes he’s his father’s son. Spencer realizes that he ran away from the best thing that ever happened to him, when thought he got a better opportunity.

“I never moved on Y/N,” Spencer says, reaching down inside himself for the courage to tenderly hold Y/N’s hands in his own. Even all these years later, her hand still feels the same inside his.

“I’ve thought about you every single day of my life. It’s a curse, Y/N, not being able to forget how much I hurt you. As much as I try, I’ll never be able to erase the look on your face when I told you--”

“When you told me I wasn’t good enough,” Y/N finished for him. It looks like she can fill in his blanks as well as he can fill in her’s.

“I didn’t mean it, Y/N. I didn’t mean it and I know that you’ll never look at me the same way, but I’ve never stopped loving you, Y/N. I’ll never stop loving you,” Spencer says, he’s sobbing at this point. The tears trail down his face and his skin in blotchy red.

“Spencer,” Y/N says quietly, like she’s trying to control the mix of passion and fury that threatens to take control of her, “I need to get this out without interruptions, so just please listen to me,”

Spencer nods and tries his best to not react when Y/N reaches down to his lap and takes her hands into his. He tries to hold in the emotions that split seems in his not-so tough exterior.

“I created a fantasy for you Spencer. I gave you the life that I could never give you. In my head you had kids because I needed you to be deliriously happy. I gave you a wife and I hated her because I love you too much to hate you. I needed you to have the life that I couldn’t give you, because it beats thinking you’re a mess. It beats thinking you ended up like me,” Y/N professes.

Spencer brings his hands up to her cheeks wiping away the tears that fall rapidly. Even the time he was kidnapped, the countless of times he was beaten or held hostage, his heart never ached quite like this. His heart never yearned to soothe someone’s pain as it did when Spencer watched Y/N come to terms with the years and years of heartbreak Spencer left her in.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Spencer says, his fingers lacing through Y/N’s pinned up hair, “I hated myself for years for doing what I did to you. I knew that there was no one else, there’s no one else for me, Y/N,”

Y/N’s cheek presses up against Spencer’s chest, his warm body is home and is spicy, yet sweet cologne the closest thing to paradise. She tries to get control over her breathing, trying to steady it and not slobber too much over Spencer’s soft shirt. His hands anchor her to him. They latch on to her elbows, begging her silently to not shove him off and kick him to the curb, even though it’s what he deserves.

“Oh god Spencer. You really still are my Spencer, aren’t you?” Y/N asks, her voice slightly muffled by Spencer’s chest. She can hear his heart beat, even now, it’s still in sync with her heart beat. After all these years, between all these miles, throughout all this pain, Y/N’s heart still beats for Spencer’s.

“I don’t wanna lose you again, Y/N,” Spencer says, the tears back on his face, some have dried slightly and new ones make their way down and pool onto the back of Y/N’s head. Spencer brushes his fingers against Y/N, making sure that he’s actually holding her in his arms in this little diner he thought he’d left in the past.

“Please don’t hurt me again, Spencer. I love you too much to lose you again, but I can’t get hurt like that. I can’t bear to do that again,” Y/N says, raising her head to look at Spencer in the eyes.

She can see the glistening tears that fall down his face and the way his gaze softens when his eyes latch on to her. They could spend hours drinking each other in, making up for the lost years. She searches his face, finding new age lines and wrinkles, and maybe even a gray hair or two. But underneath all that, he’s still Spencer.

“I though our love was dead, Spencer. I thought I had my chance real young and the rest of my life was going to be spent haunting this booth, waiting for a man that in my delusions was married to a wife that wasn’t me and with kids that aren’t mine. But good God, Spencer, you really are too much sometimes?” Y/N says, her voice breathy and exasperated as she leans in close to Spencer.

“Can I take that as a yes?” Spencer says, terrified for her answer, even though he knew it already, based on how deeply Y/N looks into his eyes.

Y/N is quiet, and even though it’s just a moment it feels like forever. They are so quiet that all they can hear is their heartbeats. The little diner where their fateful love story took flight is never quiet, yet in that moment you can hear a hair pin drop. Spencer counts the seconds that pass, reading Y/N’s eyes, reading her emotion, and praying to a God he’s not sure is real that she’s not going to leave him this time.

“Yes, Spencer. I love you too much to let you walk out here again,” Y/N says, leaning into Spencer’s face.

She bridges the gap that they’ve both been ignoring since they realized they were in each other’s company again. Spencer is still when she leans in, he doesn’t realize until her soft lips kiss him how much he’s missed her. Before his mind is able to run off the far away places called doubt and denial, Y/N wraps her arms around Spencer’s neck, hooking him in closer. Having each other so close has never made them feel so utterly helpless and giddy. Spencer feels like he needs to tether himself to Y/N’s because he still feels like she’s going to float away. The world was dizzying and Spencer was the only solid, strong thing, holding her to Earth. Y/N always knew he was her anchor, it was just a matter of time before Spencer realized it too. Spencer’s quiet whimpers and shaky tremors spurred her on, kissing up and down the openness of his face until she felt the need for air.

“You’ve been practicing? You’re better at this than when you were 23,” Y/N says, not wanting to let go of Spencer’s neck.

“No, God no, Y/N. I haven’t been with anyone since you,” Spencer says, slightly ashamed to be reminded of his deepest mistake.

“Spencer, baby, you know I forgive you, right? And considering you kiss like that now, I know how you can make it up to me,” Y/N says, planting a couple light, feathery kisses up Spencer’s neck and to the corners of his mouth. Her lips are like a paintbrush on his, turning the grimace he holds into a winning smile. He remembers that it’s near impossible for him to not be flustered near Y/N. He’s glad, even now, that still rings true.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Spencer says, he leans his forehead against Y/N’s and lifts her hands to his mouth, kissing each of her fingers as he says “you are enough, and I’ll hope you’ll let me spend the rest of my life making it up to you,”

Y/N kisses Spencer on the nose as he scrunches it, causing her to laugh. She slips out of the booth and holds a hand out for Spencer to grasp. He takes it without hesitation and pulls her in closer. She supposes that after being apart for so long, it would take some time to get back into their rhythm. Y/N knows that it will never be the same; they aren’t 23 years old anymore. They’re scared and wounded, but together, Y/N thinks that they’ll never run out of things to talk about even if they are old and gray and wrinkled.

THANK-YOU FOR READING :) <3 <3

I really appreciate every like, comment, and reblog. It helps me know what people like about my writing things I should work on.

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[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 4) - Safety Nets

Summary: The reader has her first date with Jensen, a simple dinner at home with him and the kids, but when they get a moment alone, he shares some information about the accident hardly anyone knows. Just as things start to get moving with the pair, Jensen has to head to Canada for filming ahead of schedule but he’s not so sure he can go back to whole weeks away from his family right now...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 5,200ish

Warnings: language, death of a spouse, mention of injury, depression, anxiety, self-worth problems

A/N: Shopping buddies are the best ;) Please enjoy!

________

“Can I help set the table?” you asked the next evening, Jensen shaking his head at you.

“JJ, can you set the table for me?” asked Jensen. She jumped up from the couch and got out silverware, setting an extra spot for you.

“Y/N, are you and dad on a date?” she asked when she finished up. You looked down from where you leaned back against the counter, Jensen chuckling.

“Yes we are sweetie. If this goes well I’d like to take Y/N out on Friday, maybe you guys can go to Uncle Jared and Aunt Gen’s,” he said.

“You should go out with dad,” said JJ. 

“Oh I should?” you said, crossing your arms. “Why’s that?”

“Cause he’s strong and handsome and smart and funny and…” she said, holding up her hand and counting on her hand. 

“The hair,” he whispered, a smirk crossing your face.

“Oh and he’s only got a few gray hairs!” she said.

“Oh. Well that is interesting,” you laughed, Jensen smacking himself in the face.

“Great hair, JJ. Not gray. Great,” he said.

“You do have gray whiskers,” she said.

“Like...barely,” he said. “See what I put up with? A few teensy tiny little patches in my beard if it grows out.”

“I don’t know if I can date a man of such frail age,” you said. He cocked his head and you laughed, JJ giggling as she went to get the plates.

“Keep it up you two,” he said. You walked over to him, JJ going past with the plates. “Come to tease some more?”

“I was told you’re quite handsome, thought I’d get a closer look,” you said. 

“You can have as close a look as you want,” he said, flashing you a wink.

“Calm yourself, Casanova,” you said, reaching up to the cupboard to get another plate for JJ. “Here sweetie.”

“Thanks,” she said. She set it ran back over, hugging you. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said.

“Good,” she said. You bent down and picked her up, resting her on your hip. 

“Where’d you think I was going?” you asked. She shrugged and Jensen stopped stirring the pot.

“I don’t know. Wherever you were before. Dad’s a lot happier since you live with us now,” she said.

“Well taking care of you three is hard all by yourself,” you said. You set her down and patted her head. “Go get your brother and sister for dinner.”

“You’re good with them,” he said, stirring the pot again.

“They’re people. Small people that don’t know half of what adults do but still people. Sometimes you gotta treat ‘em like it. Most of the time actually,” you said. 

“I talked to her earlier about this whole situation,” he said.

“Besides listing off all your selling points what’d she think?”

“Well apparently she’s in favor of me asking if you’d marry me tonight,” he said.

“Oh. Shotgun wedding. Simple. I like it,” you laughed. He turned his head and smiled, glancing down for a long moment, slowly returning.

“Why doesn’t this situation scare you? The kids, me who has been all over the place lately, not to mention my job, long distance, the shit you get just for-” he said, your hand covering his mouth.

“I didn’t say it’s not a lot, Jensen. It’s scary. Of course it is. Every single one of my relationships has ended badly for one reason or another. Friendships. Family ones. Romantic ones. You’re handsome and you’re so successful and I’m literally a nanny but you said you wouldn’t hurt me. So I’ll trust that you won’t and you trust I won’t hurt you and it’ll work itself out.”

“That simple huh.”

“I’m easy going. Let’s keep it simple,” you said.

“Simple works,” he said as you pulled the pot off the burner before it bubbled over. “Simple definitely works.”

“This is not a good idea,” you said two hours later, the kids in bed, you and Jensen jumping up and down on the trampoline in the yard.

“Oh most certainly not,” he said, landing near you and sending you up. You yelped and landed back down on your bottom, Jensen bouncing again, sending you up again and laughing this time. “Well that’s a cute sound.”

“Boys. Is it taught somewhere that you gotta tease a girl when you like her?” you asked, Jensen pulling you to your feet and bouncing around lightly.

“Right after manly man class, duh,” he said. 

“You would have failed, I can tell you right now,” you said. He scoffed and you shrugged. “That’s kinda a really good thing.”

“That your ex? Tough guy all the time?” he asked.

“Not like, to that extent or anything. I had a bad day and I really needed someone and he let me down. He got mad at me for it actually. He called depression a phase I needed to get over with,” you said. He stopped bouncing and you did the same, glancing down. Next thing you knew he playfully tackled you onto the trampoline, rolling to his side and smiling at you. 

“Some of my friends have it. One of my best friends does. Jared. If he ever knocks on the door late at night or whatever, let him in.”

“You take care of everyone in your life it seems,” you said.

“You take care of the people you care about, not insult them. Hopefully the ex figures that out someday.”

“How’d you figure it out?” 

“I don’t do anything anyone else shouldn’t,” he said.

“Maybe that’s it,” you said. “You’re unapologetically good and you don’t even know how rare that is.”

“It takes up too much energy to be angry or mean or cruel. I’d just rather be happy,” he said.

“You got a lot of friends, don’t you.”

“My fair share,” he said.

“How many would you call close?”

“Maybe ten or so.”

“How many real close?”

“Two or three.”

“How many know what really happened that day? Your wife…” you said. He stared at you and swallowed.

“How do you know?” he asked quietly.

“Because when we met you said she died in an accident but then you said it was her head. You’re holding onto something, something you don’t talk about.”

“She was driving when the aneurysm happened. I was in the car with her. I almost died. It’s seemed easier to lie about that.”

“Who knows?”

“My parents and Jared. They’re the only ones.”

“You ever talk to anyone about it?” 

“I went to talk to someone a few times. I’m better now,” he said with a smile. “I don’t share a lot if you may have guessed already. Not to too many people. But you it feels so easy to.”

“Must be special,” you said. He smiled and reached a hand over, twirling a piece of your hair in his fingers. “That why you like me?”

“There’s a lot of stereotypical reasons to like someone and part of that is true in why you choose someone I suppose. But there’s this other part that when you meet someone that you can’t really explain.”

“I get that. I get all of it. My brain always seems to want to go to the bad scenario first I suppose,” you said. You looked up at the black sky, Jensen toying with another strand between two fingers. “I wish it didn’t do that so much.”

“You’re just trying to protect yourself is all,” he said.

“But I come off as pushy and distant,” you said, turning your head. “Like I’m that person that’s cool with everything being casual.”

“Well think of it like this trampoline. It’s the only thing holding us up right now right?” he asked and you hummed. “Well my life, I’ve had thousands of safety nets below me to catch me when I fall so even if I tore through one, there was more to hold me up while the others got fixed. You never had as many to start and I think more of yours broke and there was no way to fix them in time so you kept tumbling through until you got to the ground.”

“Your point?”

“Maybe some people hit the ground and others never do. But the people who hit the ground, as they go back up they can make the best most solid nets in the world to hold them up. One good net beats a thousand flimsy ones.”

“So at what age do I get the wisdom?” you asked, turning your head and smiling over at him.

“You don’t. My job has made me fall through more nets than I wanted to and this year made me realize I might not have a thousand strong nets at the bottom but I just needed one to get by and now I’m working back up. You’re not even close to being down low either. You’ve already had the hardest part of your life. It’s all up from here.”

You leaned over and he lay back on the trampoline, gazing up at you. You lowered your head as he cupped your cheek, pulling you in close until your lips were touching. Part of your mind was reeling from that in itself but the other half knew that was his first kiss since his wife. You inched back but stayed close, Jensen peeling open his eyes. 

“You okay?” you asked.

“Very,” he said. You lay back beside him, Jensen letting you go. His hand reached out for yours though and laced your fingers together. “Why’d you kiss me?”

“Wanted to,” you said.

“Cool. I wanted to kiss you too,” he said. 

“Alright then.” You stared upwards, the trampoline shifting again. He popped into view propped up on one arm, your head turning slightly. He was flush, even in the dim light. He moved slowly but you let him come to you, a barely there gentle kiss that lingered, a thousand gears going in your head, likely a thousand more going off in his. 

“I’m okay,” he said quietly as he pulled back a few inches. Your fingers carded through his hair and he smiled. “I’ll get the hang of this again. I promise.”

“That was more than enough for one night,” you said. “We said slow and we’ll go slow, okay?”

“Sounds good with me.”

Two Days Later

“Y/N, can I have a word with you in my office?” asked Jensen as you were picking up after dinner. You hummed and put the last fork in the dishwasher before following him down to a quieter part of the house. He shut the door behind you and he ran his hand over his face. “This is about work, my work, but it’s going to involve you. Heavily.”

“What’s up?” you asked, taking a seat in a chair. He sat in his by his desk, scrunching up his face.

“My job with that TV show, The Boys, it films in Canada. I’m gonna need to be up there four, maybe five months. The way things used to work with my wife was I would fly back home every weekend or every other weekend. I never went more than 2 weeks seeing the kids. I don’t have to film every day but it’s easier to stay there for the week. But it’s...it’s difficult for me. It’s difficult for them and...they lost one parent this year. I can’t stay away that long for months. I just can’t do it anymore.”

“That’s perfectly understandable,” you said.

“I’d like to temporarily move to Canada while I film. No flying back and forth. The kids can see me everyday and I can see them. JJ’s school still offers remote learning and I’m homeschool certified in a pinch. Twins can do daycare easy. The only issue I have is the same one I originally did. I still need a nanny. Only now in a different country...and it’s gonna be more late nights on the regular.”

“I see,” you said.

“This isn’t what you signed up for so if you don’t want it, that’s okay. I can find a nanny up there and we can try long distance and-” he said before you stood and walked in front of him.

“I’m in.”

“Really? I mean it’s gonna be awhile before we’re back in the states,” he said.

“It sounds like fun.”

“Awesome. I was really hoping you’d say that,” he said.

“So where are we going?” you asked.

“Toronto. Well, near there. I gotta start filming start of February but there’s promo stuff to do in late January,” he said.

“It’s already late January,” you laughed. “When do we have to move?”

“Uh, tomorrow,” he said. “Just got the call a few hours ago. I got a house to rent lined up already.”

“Oh wow. Alright. Uh, what do I need to do exactly?” you asked.

“Keep stuff normal. Don’t worry about cleaning or anything. Maybe box up anything you want to bring and some of the kids stuff. Toys, books, that stuff. I’ll handle their bags. We’ll ship it all up tomorrow and take a flight up at night,” he said.

“Okay, cool,” you said. “Wait I need like, a snow jacket right?”

“We’ll get you set up there with coat and boots and all that,” he said. 

“Gotcha,” you said, starting to leave before you spun around and walked smack into his chest. “Wait. I have a lot more questions actually. Like...I don’t have a passport?”

“I know which is why tomorrow morning first thing you’re gonna go down to the post office, get your passport done up and when it comes in, we’ll get it shipped up to Canada,” he said.

“How do I get into Canada though?”

“We share a border with them so we bring your license and birth certificate, you can go right on in no problem,” he said.

“Oh. Okay,” you said. “Wait. I’ve never been on an airplane before. What-”

“Okay,” he laughed. “Take a hot second and breathe and we’ll go from there. I know it’s last minute but it’ll work out. I promise.”

“Y/N,” said Jensen, tapping your shoulder two days later. You hummed and reluctantly turned your head away from staring out the back sliding doors to the snow covered yard and trees around you. “Have you ever seen snow before?”

“No. Not like this,” you said, head going back to staring outside. “It’s something out of a movie.”

“You had that same look on your face when we took off last night in the plane.”

“What’s that?”

“Those little moments where the years fall off and you get that childish joy, like nothing bad has ever happened,” he said. 

“I suppose there’s hope for me yet,” you said with a smile.

“Oh there was always that,” he chuckled. He threw an arm over your shoulders and you leaned into him. “Can I still take you out Friday?”

“Who’s gonna watch the kids?” you asked.

“My buddy.”

“Does he exist?” you said, grinning at him. 

“Cute,” he said, ruffling your bedhead. “Yes he does exist. How’s Friday night sound?”

“Do I need a dress?” you asked.

“Probably. It’s a nice place,” he said. “My favorite place in Toronto actually. Jeans are perfectly acceptable there though.”

“I’ll pick out a dress today too,” you said. You kissed his cheek and watched them turn an ever so light pink. “You’re cute.”

“Shut up,” he chuckled. “Put your boots and coat on the card I gave you alright? That’s a business expense.”

“Whatever you say boss,” you said. “I’m gonna duck out before the little ones get up. I’ll try not to be gone too long.”

“Take your time. Drive slow in the snow until you get the hang of it, okay?”

“I will. I promise.”

“What the fuck’s the difference between therma heat and therma wear…” you mumbled to yourself, gawking at the glove rack at the store an hour later.

“I think it’s just marketing,” said the guy on the other side. You jumped and managed to knock about five pairs off the hangers. He laughed quietly and peeked his head around. “Didn’t mean to spoke ya.”

“It’s alright. I’m…” you said, the man smiling as you shook your head out. “Um...I…”

“You okay?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. You nodded and he smiled. “You sure cause you were just having a life crisis over gloves a second ago and now you can’t seem to form a sentence.”

“You’re Home…” you said, shutting your eyes. “You’re the actor that plays...I’m having a fucking day.”

“Looks like it,” he said, bending down and picking up some of the gloves. He laughed again and you got the ones closest to you, putting them back. “You know it’s like ten degrees outside right? Not exactly sneaker weather.”

“I know. This place looks pretty but it’s worse than a Texas summer almost with how cold it is.”

“I thought you sounded not from here,” he said with a smile. “I’m not from around here either. I do better with the heat myself.”

“Okay um, listen...uh, what’s your name, not Homelander?” you asked.

“Antony,” he chuckled again.

“I’m Y/N. I’m just gonna get the weird stuff out of the way cause…” you said as he smiled but stepped back a foot. “Yeah. Um I’m a fan but like...do you know Jensen Ackles?”

“Why?” he asked.

“He’s my boss...and my boyfriend but that’s another story. We might run into each other at some point, probably very likely. Just wanted to throw that out there.”

“Your boss?” he asked.

“I nanny his kids. I wouldn’t believe me if I were you either. I should go,” you said. You groaned when you were past him, hearing a pair of feet jog to catch up with you. 

“I know you. You were on his instagram last week right? Yeah okay, that makes sense why a clueless Texas girl is stressing over gloves.”

“Excuse me?” He shook his head and smiled. 

“Get a pair of thick gloves, thinner ones but not too thin, a warm hat, good boots for traction along with some boot spray and go with a longer hooded parka. It’ll be warmer. Throw in a few pairs of wool socks to be sure,” he said.

“Oh. Thank you,” you said. You looked back at the store and then to him. “There’s like five hundred coats in here.”

“How about you buy me a cup of coffee and I’ll help you out. Deal?”

“Why would you help me?” you asked.

“Well I’m gonna be working with Jensen quite a bit and he’s your boyfriend too apparently plus it’s just nice,” he said.

“You’re so not like your character.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. We’ll be out of here in an hour tops.”

Antony turned out to be very helpful since apparently you had an uncanny ability to be attracted to the least warmth rated items in the whole store. But you had your parka and boots on now, other items tucked away in the bags as you browsed through a rack of black dresses at a different store.

“We dress shopping now?” said Antony, sipping on his coffee cup.

“Dude,” you said, jumping again. “You gotta learn to make noise.”

“It’s my natural stealth,” he said. “That one.”

“What?”

“That one,” he said, nodding to a dress on the wall.

“I can’t pull that one off,” you said.

“Try it. I’ll watch your stuff,” he said.

“You’re oddly nice,” you said. “To a stranger.”

“Well this beats my plans of walking around the mall buying crap I don’t need. Besides, I like you.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“I’m taken,” he laughed. “Come on. Everybody needs a shopping buddy.”

“Okay but if you’re a weirdo Jensen will kick your ass,” you said, finding your size and taking it off the rack. “Just sayin’.”

“I like the guy more already,” he said. “It’s not like it’s your first date or anything.”

“...Second date.” He stared and looked away. “It’s…complicated.”

“I heard about...you know…the accident,” he said. 

“Let him bring that up,” you said and he nodded. You took the dress into the changing room and smirked at the mirror. “Alright, maybe we give this one a shot.”

You changed back and found Antony on a bench outside. 

“I should take you shopping more often,” you said. “You have good taste.”

“Sounds like a winner,” he said, handing you back your bags. “I gotta head out for work but it was nice meeting you, Y/N. I’m sure I’ll see you around very soon.”

“Me too. Thanks for the help today, really.”

“Not a problem at all. See ya later,” he said as he headed out. You gave him a wave and picked out a pair of black heels to go with the dress before you were heading home.

“Hey Jensen,” you said late that night. He’d had to go in for some photos in the afternoon and had taken quite a bit longer than he’d anticipated. “Leftovers are in the container on the top shelf.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said. He rubbed his eyes and padded into the kitchen before tossing the container in the microwave.

“Um, Jensen? Can I talk to you about work?” you asked. His ears perked up and he nodded while he looked around for a spoon. “Second drawer to the left.”

“Thanks,” he said. “So what’s up? Something wrong?”

“Not exactly. I was thinking earlier though about a backup plan,” you said. He took out the container and grabbed his spoon sitting across from you at the table.

“What’s a backup plan?” he asked, shoveling a spoonful of too hot pasta into his mouth.

“Well down in Austin, say I was suddenly unable to perform my job duties cause I’m sick or hurt or I’m off on vacation or whatever. Down there I have a network of other nannies that could step in temporarily, they can do a pick up or drop off in a bind, that sort of thing. It’s kind of a support group in way. It’s good for me and for you.”

“They must have one of those things up here?” he asked, taking a slower bite this time. You spun your computer around and he nodded. “Tornanny. That’s cute. You gotta sign up or something?”

“I need to take a four hour class. They have one on Saturday morning. Is it okay if I sign up?” you asked. He chuckled and took another bite of food.

“Weekends are still yours to do as you please. I need a bit more help during weeknights or mornings but weekends are still yours. I’m also compensating your pay for the additional time and no you’re not winning that argument so don’t even try.”

“Okay. I’m gonna sign up,” you said, turning the computer back.

“What was that thing on the side?” he asked.

“Hm?” you said as you started filling in the form.

“Some happy hour thing on the side,” he said. You flicked your eyes over to the side of the page and saw the group posting. “That could be fun.”

“Do I look like the kind of person that goes to happy hours?” you said.

“Well maybe you could meet a nanny friend in this group, one you could maybe get to cover for you if you ever needed it. I did steal you away from everything you know to a different country with a days notice after all. I’d go with you if you want,” he said. 

“What about the kids?”

“Hm?”

“Jensen. I’m starting to see a fatal flaw in me being the nanny and us dating. I’m the person that should be watching the kids when you go out,” you said.

“Hm,” he said, eating for a few moments. “You do have a point. I think we need to renegotiate your contract.”

“Wait you’re firing me?” you said, Jensen shaking his head and laughing. “Okay cause you were about to lose a girlfriend for a second there.”

He smiled to himself and looked down, playing with his dinner. 

“So what are you talking about?” you asked.

“Well, girlfriend,” he chuckled. “How about this? Weekends you don’t work, at all, for any reason. If you watch the kids for an hour while I duck to the store, it’s cause you’re doing it cause of us, not as part of your job. If we want to go out or on a date on the weekend, we’ll get a sitter. I had a go to in Vancouver when I lived there. I’ll give her a call, see if she knows anyone out here that would work. That sound good?”

“I guess that’s alright,” you said. He raised and eyebrow and you shrugged. “I enjoy our alone time, don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to take away from them though.”

“I appreciate the sentiment but I’m not saying…” he said before he trailed off and ate the last bites of his food. “I moved us so they could see me everyday which is far more than they ever did when I filmed my show. I will still make them breakfast. I will still put them to bed. I will still have lunch with them and play with them and all of it. They’ll always by my first priority. But a relationship with kids doesn’t always mean the kids are around. Sometimes they come with, sometimes they stay home. I’m not talking about ditching them for days on end. A few hours on a Saturday night, most of which they’ll be in bed asleep is all I’m talking about. We have a right to a little bit of time for ourselves. It’s not as easy with them than it was the first time around but we just have to try harder is all.”

“Okay,” you said. “I’m good with that. How was your first day?”

“Good. We did a lot of promotional stuff. I won’t start acting until next week. I heard you met Antony shopping today.”

“Yeah. I didn’t get a chance to tell you when I got home earlier. He seems like a nice guy.”

“He does. He invited us to dinner once we settle into a routine,” he said. “Apparently you two are shopping buddies now.”

“The man does know how to choose a dress.”

“Good thing I packed my lucky suit up here,” he said. 

“Speaking of suits...you wouldn’t happen to have any of you in your Soldier Boy suit from today?” 

“No spoilers,” he said with a smirk. You jutted out your lip and he rolled his eyes, taking out his phone. He tapped and slid it over to you, your eyes wide. You must have stared for a solid minute before you looked over at him, Jensen leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head and a huge grin on his face. “You think I’m hot, don’t you.”

“Pft, no,” you said, biting your bottom lip before you licked it. He was still grinning out of the corner of your eye and you gave him the phone back. “Maybe...you’re kinda hot. But it’s totally the suit. Like right now, ugh, horrendous.”

“Nah, I’m hot,” he said, sticking out his stomach and rubbing it.

“I’m impressed you can actually do that,” you said. 

“Everybody’s got a tummy,” he said. “Seriously though, you think the suit is cool?”

“It looks awesome. I’d love to see it in person,” you said.

“Oh you guys will be on set at some point,” he said. “I’m kinda nervous about next week.”

“Really? Why? You’re a great actor.”

“Have you ever seen a single thing I’ve done,” he chuckled.

“I did in fact see that horror movie on a date years ago. Something with like mining?” you asked. 

“That’s what you saw? Like that movie? I hope the date worked out at least,” he said with a big smirk.

“Actually it was the crappy ex,” you said.

“Oh. You guys must have dated for a long time then.”

“Since we were seventeen,” you said. He stared and you shrugged. “I kept waiting for him to grow up and change. Eventually I realized he never would.”

“Did you love him?”

“I loved the idea of him. I liked him. I was with him for close to 12 years so I obviously liked him. But it wasn’t love. I could never be myself all the way around him and that’s not a way to live. There was none of that feeling when you first meet someone, you know?”

“Would I be pushing to ask if you ever thought about marrying the guy?”

“He did propose actually. A few times,” you said. “I turned him down. Things really went downhill from there though.”

“Why’d you say no?”

“I didn’t want to marry someone that made me feel bad about being me. Got tired of him telling me to get over everything that happened as a kid, dress a certain way, should I really have dessert, that kind of crap.”

“It’s part of who you are. I wouldn’t exactly call your past something to get over,” said Jensen. “Why would he even make you feel bad about it? You’re so normal.”

“I don’t think his daddy hugged him enough,” you said.

“No need to be a dick to other people for it,” he said. You smiled as you finished filling out the rest of the form for the class before sending it off. “Hey on the plus side I did get a good recommendation for daycare today. I was gonna check it out tomorrow morning, maybe get the twins in next week. Apparently they’re also hooked up with a school so JJ can go to school with some other American kids too instead of being stuck behind a screen here all day.”

“That’s great news. She can make some new friends that way. You know I was thinking maybe she could get signed up for indoor soccer. When I played the new season normally started right at the beginning of February.”

“Is it safe?” he asked. “I thought that could get pretty dangerous.”

“Adult leagues can be but kids her age it’s just running back and forth mostly. She could make some new friends, give her something fun to look forward to.”

“It’s not a bad idea. I would like her to be involved in something since she’s out of dance and soccer back home right now. I’ll talk it over with her in the morning,” he said. “She say something to you about it?”

“No. I just know what it’s like to be the new kid,” you said. “Soccer helped me make friends at school.”

“You and your mom move after your dad passed?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah. I was little so I don’t remember so much,” you said, an email coming in that your spot in the class was reserved. “Alright. Looks like I’m all set for eight on Saturday.”

“I’ll try not to keep you out too late on Friday night then,” he said.

“I never said that.”

“I like flirty you,” he said, both of you looking up at the ceiling when you heard a loud pair of giggles. “Duty calls. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Jensen.”

________

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

[phoneboxfairy]

Catalyst - Nalu Angst to Fluff fic

Ao3 link -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/39602091

Lucy Heartfilia was a strong wizard. Smart. Kind. Compassionate, with the patience of a saint in most cases.

Most.

See, there was one specific topic where her patience was wearing thin. Simply put, Natsu Dragneel was getting on her nerves.

To be fair it wasn’t really his fault. He was clueless about everything except battle, so he probably didn’t realize he was doing anything that could be perceived as wrong.

Hence Lucy’s growing frustration. He had all the romantic proclivity of a rock. By all accounts he didn’t know or care about love. So she had long since resigned herself to the fact that they would never be more than friends.

Not that she would ever admit to interest in any such thing out loud. No, better to just let it go.

Of course it would be easier to just let the matter rest if not for one fact.

Natsu was clueless about boundaries and personal space, especially Lucy’s. What was once simple, almost innocent, was now aggravating.

In Lucy’s mind the jealousy was somehow worse than the groping.

Ah, yes, that was it. She wanted to at least try to strike out on the dating scene. The thing is, that particular endeavor was impossible when there was always a territorial hothead nearby.

Take today as an example. The team was enjoying lunch at a small cafe attached to the hotel they were staying at. A young man approached Lucy and they began talking. He seemed nice enough, charming, and handsome.

“Got any plans for tonight?”

Lucy blushed and smiled. No sooner had she opened her mouth, she felt the air get warmer.

“Yeah. She’s going with us on a job. Got it?”  Fire was in the pink-haired boy’s eyes and fist. He was mad? Well, let him be. Lucy was flat out pissed.

“Y...Yessir. Some other time, then.”

“Sorry. It was nice talking to you.” The young man took off, not daring to so much as look back. Lucy got to her feet, shot Natsu a dark glare, and made her way to her hotel room.

She ignored his shouts and attempts to get her attention, locking the door behind her.

Meanwhile, at the cafe, a very concerned Wendy and Gray moved to investigate the situation further. They made it halfway across the room before Erza stopped them.

“No, let them be. They have to sort this out on their own.”

That was that.

Lucy couldn’t ignore Natsu’s knocking for long. In fact, he was so persistent about it she stormed over and opened the door, still glaring.

“What could you possibly want, Natsu?”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing, that’s all. Ya seemed really mad earlier and…” His smile faded as he saw her expression. “...I guess you’re still mad.”

“How very perceptive of you. Why wouldn’t I be mad? I haven’t had a date in forever and you ruined it!”

“That guy was a creep!” “No. He. Was. Not.” Her attention was momentarily averted to the exceed in the corner. “Happy, could you give us a little privacy?” “I...I’m not sure. You’re not gonna kill Natsu or anything, are you?”

Privately, Lucy wasn’t ruling that out.

“No, we need to talk, that’s all. I’ll buy you some yummy fishies tonight…”

Happy’s tummy rumbled at the mention of his favorite food.

“Deal. See ya later, Natsu, as long as she doesn’t kill ya!” With that Happy flew off, leaving the two wizards alone.

“Privacy, huh? Because of some guy?” “It’s not...No. There’s more to it than that. Something’s been bothering me for a while and I’m tired of letting it slide.”

“Letting what slide? What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you, Natsu. We’re friends, right?” “Yeah. Have been for years.” He had a confused look on his face. Other than that, he seemed almost uncharacteristically calm about the whole thing.  Like he was assessing the situation.

“Well…” She took a deep breath, exhaled. “Friends have boundaries. And lately you haven’t been respecting mine. Being friends doesn’t give you permission to grope me whenever you want, and it definitely doesn’t mean you can act jealous when someone else expresses interest. We don’t have, uh, that sort of relationship. Not that you have any interest in that sort of thing.”

Dead silence for several long moments. Natsu’s confused look was gone. Now he was gazing intently at Lucy.

“...Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“Yeah. I am.” He stepped closer. Then he took her hand.  His gaze never left her. “You’re kinda dense, you know?”

“What?!” Lucy’s emotions were already swirling around and her heart was racing feeling her hand in his. Now confusion and a bit of rage were added to the mix. She wanted to scream at him...but knew that wouldn’t solve anything. “What do you mean?” “You’re so smart, but you don’t see somethin’ that’s right in front of you.” Quick glance at their hands. Was that the beginnings of a smile…?

Lucy wasn’t sure. She was, however, quite sure that she hadn’t expected him to react quite like this.

“What’s...right in front of me…?”

“Me. Duh. You really couldn’t tell I liked ya, that I’ve liked ya all this time?” Wide eyed, Lucy could only blush in response. Natsu’s expression softened a bit. “Come on, Lucy. I can hear your heart racin’ right now, just like every time I take your hand.” He stroked his thumb over her palm. It felt nice, pleasant, soothing. Natural.

Now his actions made sense. Now she understood why he always acted like a protective dragon around her.

It was a shock, to be sure, but not an unwelcome one. In fact, Lucy realized, this new development solved her problem from earlier.

...although at the same time it created a whole new problem. She sighed, pouted, her gaze shifted to her feet.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He lifted her chin, quirked his head. She sighed again, feeling, irrationally maybe, like she could burst into tears.

“I...um...I l, like you too, Natsu but…What if this ruins what we had? Our friendship. It...it means everything to me. You mean everything to me.”

“Yeah, but what if it makes us stronger? That’s a chance I wanna take.”

“Me t-too…” She stepped closer to him, bit her lip, dared to look up into his eyes. Speaking of chances, there was one she wanted to take. “Natsu?” “Yeah?”

No verbal response. She got up on her tip-toes, close enough to see the light flickering in his eyes. So close, almost dangerous. She leaned closer, going for what she hoped would be a sweet moment.

Instead she lost her balance. Stumbled from her tip-toes, bonked her forehead on his chin.

Luckily Natsu caught her before she could embarrass herself further. She had to admit she rather liked feeling his warm, strong arms wrapped around her.

At least until she heard him snickering.

“It’s not funny…” A dramatic sniffle for effect.

“You’re right. It’s hilarious.” His laugh was infectious. Lucy had to bite her tongue to keep from cracking up right along with him.

“Fine, jerk…” She made a pouty face. “I wanted to try a kiss, but if you’d rather laugh at m--!!!”

Lucy’s protest was effectively silenced by the feeling of Natsu’s mouth on hers. A little clumsy, since neither of them knew what they were doing, but not bad.

Eventually she pulled away to breathe, then rested her head on his shoulder.  

Before either could think of anything to say there was a rather timid knock on the door. Happy peeked in, eyes wide.

“Natsu? Lucy? Erza said to meet in the lobby.”

Right. The job. Somehow in the drama of the afternoon both had forgotten that they had a job to do. Lucy took a step back, exhaled.

“Hey Natsu?” “Yeah, Luce?” “Stay with me tonight? After the job, I mean. I...want some company, that’s all.”

“Sure.” Natsu looked confused but at least he was smiling as he held out his hand. “Let’s go.” His smile was so bright, so contagious, that she didn’t hesitate. She smiled and put her hand in his, then they met up with their teammates and set out on the afternoon’s adventure. Things were different, in a way. They all noticed the way Natsu and Lucy walked hand in hand. It was hard to miss the way Natsu made it a point to protect Lucy at all costs, standing between her and the beast throughout the fight. He was always protective, but never to this level, at least not until today.

And once the beast had been vanquished, Lucy hugged Natsu. He didn’t mind at all.

Happy snickered. Gray rolled his eyes. Wendy giggled. Erza said nothing, only smiled a knowing smile.

That night the pair lay side by side for what seemed like hours, talking, bonding, and sharing the occasional gentle kiss. Happy was snoring on one of the extra pillows. Eventually Lucy yawned, having trouble keeping her eyes open. She snuggled into his arms. He rested his forehead on hers. In moments both were snoring, glad to enjoy a moment of peace after what had been a rather interesting day.

Sure, things were different, but it was a good change…

~Fin